"Why doesn't Dick tell Jason he killed the Joker" because taking a life is one of Dick's greatest regrets and to Dick perpetuating the cycle of Joker's violence does not prove that he loved Jason or cared that he died, it just shows that Dick is capable of the same cruelty and disregard for human life as the evils he fights against when pushed. Moreover I don't think Jason would react positively to that info because
a. The Joker is still alive which would again prove to Jason that his death didn't have an impact and
b. Jason wanted Bruce specifically to kill the Joker to prove that he loved Jason/cared that he died, so if anything finding out that not only did someone, who was not Bruce, kill the Joker but that Bruce resuscitated him would probably just hurt Jason more.
TLDR it's not about Jason's catharsis that would not occur it's about Dick's regret at breaking one of the core tenants of his moral code
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Coping
After the second task, Fleur wanted someone to blame, knowing full well who really deserved her ire.
765 words, rated G
Takes place in the same world as my fic Tender Is The Night which you can read here on ao3. I’m not totally sure but I don’t think I’ll be adding this ficlet to ao3 so it’ll just live here for now.
For the Ladies of HP Fest Monthly Mini: 1 Feb 2024 - Fleur Delacour @ladiesofhpfest
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“This is outrageous and an affront. I demand to file a formal complaint against whoever is responsible,” said Fleur upon bursting through the door of Olympe Maxime’s office in the Beauxbatons carriage. It had taken time to make sure Gabrielle was cleaned, fed, and napping in her room, but once she was convinced of her sister’s warmth and safety she’d marched straight towards the office.
From her chair behind her desk, Maxime watched for a few moments as Fleur furiously paced back and forth, then said, “Calm yourself, Fleur. You should’ve known the song wasn’t meant to be taken literally once you realized what was stolen from the champions were actually people. You should’ve known Gabrielle wasn’t in any danger.”
“How? How could I have known that?” Fleur asked, coming to a stop and glaring at the older woman. “People have died in this tournament. No matter what protections they used today, the risks for the hostages – for any of us – have never been zero.”
Was she the only one who knew this? How could anyone think this was acceptable?
“Gabrielle is not old enough to have consented,” argued Fleur. “It’s also clear my parents were not told the full extent of her requested involvement because they certainly would not have given their permission either. And why her, for that matter? The other champions had friends, a couple of Yule Ball companions – Gabrielle is my blood! The only one brought in from outside the school.”
It wasn’t fair. Granted, the other champions had undoubtedly been unnerved at the thought of their friends under threat, each of them having to cope with that turmoil as they braved the task. But what was taken from her had been her family. If her dalliance with Hermione Granger were known and she’d been selected instead, Fleur was certain she would’ve been less rattled by it. While the girl’s participation as Krum’s hostage still filled the young Veela with an odd mix of fear, concern, and jealousy, Hermione was fifteen and a capable witch, and Fleur would’ve been on more equal footing with the other champions in her search for her.
Now that she thought about it, another thing the hostages had in common was that neither of them was of age. It was absolutely barbaric that the age limit put on champions had not been a limit for their hostages as well. And Gabrielle wasn’t even in school yet. Her little sister… immobilized and tied down under that horrible lake. The thought sent a frightening chill down her spine.
“Whose idea was it to choose her? Was it yours?”
“Of course not,” replied Maxime in a placating tone. “The organizers and headmasters consulted together. I suggested your friends Odette and Paolo, even the boy you took to the Yule Ball since it was apparent that’s where they were leaning for Krum and Diggory. It was Mr. Crouch who’d sent a message through his subordinate to suggest your sister… hm… in hindsight, the note was curiously adamant about it.”
Her eyes narrowed. Fleur didn’t like Crouch. It hadn’t bothered her that he’d skipped the Yule Ball and the second task. But now she wanted him here so she could give him a piece of her mind.
“But regardless of Mr. Crouch’s motives,” continued Maxime pointedly, “you as a fully-grown witch and champion of Beauxbatons were expected to maintain your composure no matter who was chosen. You faced the same obstacles in the lake as the others.”
Fleur frowned and clenched her fists. Unsaid, yet loud and clear, were the criticisms at her performance against the grindylows, creatures a fourteen-year-old boy had bested, and she felt those criticisms as if they were lashings across her back.
Not wanting to let Maxime see how she’d been cut, she stormed out of the office. Only when she reached her bedroom did her face fall and her shoulders sag. Fleur opened the door and silently entered her room, collapsing onto a chair facing her still-sleeping sister.
The innocent girl who idolized her would never cast blame. Neither would Hermione. And later, Fleur would seek out the brunette and take comfort in her arms, but right now she wanted to wallow in the painful truth of her shortcomings.
The issues of fairness in the tournament didn’t matter. What mattered was her.
Her wits and skills. Her ability to overcome her emotions and accomplish her task.
Which she hadn’t.
In the end, when challenged with the belief that someone she loved was in danger… Fleur Delacour had failed.
And she would never forgive herself for it.
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Note: I didn’t originally plan to contribute to this fest but then yesterday I had an idea of how this conversation between Fleur and Maxime could’ve gone, taking inspiration from Tender and how I kept her canon tournament performance, and I typed this up.
Thanks for reading!
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