Disclaimer: I own nothing and am making no profit.
Acknowledgments: Zaion Indulias for the beta work on this chapter
Chapter 2
"Nice to see you, Harry," Charlie Weasley said as Harry stepped away from the Portkey landing pad. The stocky red head walked up and hugged him tightly. It was a little odd, but Harry just hugged him back because he wasn't sure what else there was to do. He'd been the only one to take that Portkey to Romania so the terminal was empty at that moment. Harry and Charlie just walked off toward the exit.
"I wish it was better circumstances," Harry said. And then he frowned remember just how that sounded. "Not that your wedding is a bad circumstance." He corrected quickly.
"We're going to postpone it," Charlie said quietly. Harry had assumed as much, but no one had said anything about it to that point. His mind couldn't keep much straight, anyway. And he could only suspect that Charlie was in even worse shape.
"I thought so," Harry said. He wasn't quite sure why he still came to Romania. But Charlie had flooed and asked him to. So here he was.
"But we already have a huge party here. My family was one of the last groups to come in. Talia's had people arriving for weeks." Harry just nodded as they stepped into the next room. He wasn't sure what else there was to say.
Unfortunately, the next room of the Portkey station was crowded. And people in the crowd recognized him. He made his way through quickly enough, somehow managing to lose Charlie in the shuffle. He only had to sign a few pieces of paper, and a few trading cards, and only paused for a few pictures. He suspected that his dour expression helped get him out of there sooner.
"You ever get used to that?" Charlie asked. Harry shrugged.
"Sort of. It becomes routine. I'm almost positive my signature is just a squiggly line at this point, though," Harry commented.
"I bet," Charlie laughed. "Gets it over with sooner."
"It does," Harry agreed, but then smiled a little bit to himself. "Titus actually signs his name different every time. He claims if he does that he can say every autograph is a forgery."
"Except that they're magically verified," Charlie laughed quietly.
"Never said Titus was very bright," Harry commented idly. The Weasley clan had met Titus once or twice at parties and what not. Although most of them found the beater to be a bit abrasive. Ron, for example, hated him because Titus felt pretty much the exact opposite about the Chudley Cannons as he did.
But that just made him think about Ron, and that made his stomach tighten and he just shook his head, trying to get rid of the thought. Charlie paused as well, but didn't say anything until they were outside.
"How are we getting there?" Harry asked, mostly to change the subject, he wasn't even particularly sure where there was.
"Car," Charlie said. Harry raised an eyebrow at him.
"You can drive?" Harry asked.
"No," Charlie said. "We were supposed to take another portkey to the grounds, but the Transportation department doesn't want to take any extra chances so they had a ministry driver come out."
"They let me portkey here," Harry commented as they walked through the car park.
"Yes, a private portkey, created and accompanied by the Romanian Minister of Transportation," Charlie laughed.
"So that's who that was?" Harry said, remembering the dour gentleman who'd met him at the station.
"Indeed it was," Charlie said as they approached a standard looking black sedan. The two of them climbed into the back and the driver started off on his way.
"So do they have any sort of idea?" Harry asked. He wasn't sure how to bring up this topic. If he was honest, he was nowhere ready to discuss it. None of it really seemed real yet. He half suspected it was some sort of elaborate prank. He swallowed hard and shook the thought from his head.
"No," Charlie said.
"What happened?" Harry asked. He'd not received a coherent story in the matter yet. But it had been less than a day.
"They don't know. The ministry was tracking it as normal, and then it just disappeared somewhere over Munich. There are teams investigating where the German Ministry last saw it, as well as here in Romania and England. The French are getting involved too. But there's nothing yet," Charlie explained. Harry just nodded along with him.
"How does a Portkey just vanish?" Harry shook his head. He really didn't understand that part of the story. But he wasn't really in a position to understand how that worked. He'd certainly never learned how to make one, and if he was honest he wasn't entirely certain how they worked.
Typically the quidditch related travel he did was through stadium floos. Sure, they'd stay in opposing cities for a couple of days during stretches on the road, but that was more out of interest in being there than anything confining.
"Hell if I know," Charlie commented. Harry could sense that Charlie didn't really want to be talking about this, so they were silent for a moment before Harry spoke again.
"I should have been with them," Harry frowned. Charlie just shook his head.
"And I should have gotten married back at home. But Talia wanted to have the wedding with her grandmothers one hundredth, and it seemed like a perfectly good excuse to have a weekend long party," he sighed as he spoke.
"So?" Harry asked, looking at the older man, looking a little confused.
"So we're both in shock," he said. "And there's nothing that either of us could have really done, Harry."
"I know. But maybe," he sighed. He knew Charlie was right. And he knew things would just get worse once he actually stopped to think about what happened.
"For what it's worth, Harry, I'm glad that you weren't there," Charlie said.
"Well, I'll do whatever I can to help," Harry said.
"Don't say that," Charlie said, "Or I'll have you look into all the paperwork that the ministry brought over."
"Daphne already is," Harry commented. She'd mentioned it on the way to the portkey.
"Your agent?" Charlie asked. They'd met before, at some sort of gathering. Harry was a little surprised at how easily he was getting along with Charlie. He'd only ever seen him at the occasional Yuletide gathering and Ron and Hermione's wedding.
"Yes. She manages my finances as well. And I was part owner of the joke shop. So she's dealing with some of the preliminaries."
"Is that wise?" Charlie asked, looking a little concerned about the concept.
"Probably not," Harry admitted. "But she's a lawyer. So she already knows more about it than me. I'll probably hire someone else to look over it too, if you don't mind."
"I do not mind," Charlie laughed. "I appreciate it. I'm dreading going through all of that. Mr. Delacour had been handling all of the legal stuff for the family." He let his words trail off. Harry understood why.
"I'll let her know then," Harry said. Assuming Charlie would realize he was likely giving Daphne the green light to go through everything.
"How did you get started on all of that so quickly?" Charlie asked.
"I'm part owner of the joke shop," Harry admitted. Obviously the bit with the start-up money never quite made its way to Charlie.
"That explains how they got started. I never really asked."
"Yeah. Anyway, when the portkey vanished with both Ron and George, they came to me next. Except they got side tracked by my representation. She's figuring out the next course of action. But I suspect things won't be resolved in a hurry."
"What are you going to do with it?" Charlie asked.
"No idea," Harry said. "Probably just hire people to run it."
"Not sell it?"
"No idea. I haven't thought about it," Harry admitted. "Why, do you want to come run it?"
"No," Charlie laughed. "I'd rather keep taming dragons." And Harry just nodded. They were silent for a few moments, Harry simply stared out over at the scenery.
"So," Charlie continued after a pause. "It won't happen now but Talia and I were debating just who your plus one was going to be."
"Really?" Harry asked, looking back toward him. He understood what Charlie was doing. The man simply wanted to talk about anything other than the Portkey accident. "Who did you have?"
"I assumed you were going to come alone," Charlie said. "You were only going to stay for a couple of nights anyway, with your quidditch schedule. I figured you'd just show up and drink."
"That's pretty much what I planned on," Harry admitted.
"Yet you indicated a guest," Charlie commented.
"That I did," Harry responded.
"Well who?"
"Eva was going to come with me," Harry admitted.
"The chaser who got traded with you?" Charlie asked, he looked a little surprised. Harry didn't blame him. He and Eva had never actually been linked to each other in any tabloid rumor or anything.
"That's her," Harry said calmly.
"You two are a couple?" Charlie asked.
"No," Harry laughed. "But she always wanted to come to Romania. And she wouldn't make me sleep on the floor if there was only one bed."
"I see," Charlie laughed.
"And we have the same days off. Titus wanted to come. He was hoping to hit on bridesmaids and young gypsy girls," Harry laughed with Charlie.
"Does he know anything about young gypsy girls?" Charlie asked.
"Probably not," Harry said.
"So they'd probably rob him blind," Charlie commented.
"And you're making me wish I'd brought Titus," Harry laughed.
"Personally, I'm rather glad you came alone," Charlie said. Harry nodded a little bit.
"Seemed unnecessary to bring a girl at this point," he agreed. But Charlie just shook his head.
"No it's not that," he said.
"Oh what then?" Harry asked. Really, he still wasn't sure just what he was doing there. Some officials just thought the Portkey may still turn up. And he figured he should be in the area. He didn't admit it, but he felt lost. And it seemed like a better place to be than in a bar.
He hadn't even tried to talk to Titus about it. But he'd mostly just left practice and gone straight to the Portkey terminal. Daphne had tried to be encouraging, but he hadn't been listening.
It was the type of thing that usually, he'd try to talk to Ron or Hermione about. But he couldn't do that. He frowned as his heart felt heavy in his chest. For the first time in years he felt completely alone once more. He had nothing to focus on to drive the information out of his house.
"I need to ask you a favor," Charlie sighed.
"What is it?" Harry asked. He knew there was next to no chance that he wouldn't agree.
"Gabrielle Delacour," Charlie said softly.
"What about her?" Harry asked. He was still just staring out the window, wondering if they were close to their destination yet as the sun set on the horizon.
"She came in this morning, straight from Beauxbatons, before she read the paper," Charlie admitted.
"Oh," Harry said.
"Talia spent most of the morning with her. But she has family coming in left and right and is trying to be a good hostess," Charlie frowned. He was looking out his window as well.
"How is she?" Harry asked. He didn't remember much of the girl. He'd last seen her perhaps two years earlier at some sort of family gathering. He hadn't paid that much attention to her. He'd spent most of the evening talking about his fledgling quidditch career with Ron and Hermione.
"Not good," Charlie said.
"How so?" Harry asked, although he figured the answer was obvious.
"She's not really talking. When I finally left this morning she was just sitting outside and staring out over the country side. Talia was with her, trying to engage her. But nothing," Charlie said. Harry frowned.
"I can't really blame her," he said. It wasn't far off of what he wanted to do.
"Me either. It's what I want to be doing. Hell, it's probably what I'd be doing if Talia wasn't making me be active," Charlie explained.
"Is it working?" Harry asked.
"No," he said. "Everything still reminds me of one of them. And that just makes me think of all of them."
"I know," Harry sighed. "Have you decided on any arrangements?"
"Not really," Charlie sighed. "Percy is coming in tomorrow. I'm sure we'll discuss that more. But it doesn't really feel right doing anything."
"Because you don't know what happened?" Harry guessed.
"Essentially," Charlie responded. "The authorities can't say for sure they're dead. So it's hard to have a funeral. I mean, it's only been a day."
"A long one," Harry nodded. It had only been half of one for him and he already felt more exhausted than he remembered being since the war.
"Yes, a long one. But still, just a day. I think we'll have some sort of remembrance tomorrow before the party. Mostly, though, I think I'm just going to hope that they show up still," Charlie admitted. Harry turned his gaze away from the setting sun and looked at Charlie for a moment. The older man wasn't looking at him.
"Is that even a possibility?" Harry asked.
"Yes, but a slim one," Charlie said. "Someone with the ministry said it happened before. Sometimes a portkey can just be super late."
"I see," Harry said. He'd not heard of it, but there were plenty of things he'd not heard of.
"So I'm going to put off mourning for a couple of days. See if just maybe there's a miracle at work, and try to stay strong," Charlie admitted. "If, after everyone leaves, nothing has come of it. Well, then I'll have Talia to help me get through it all." Harry didn't really know what to say for that. So he didn't say anything. He just turned his gaze back out of the car. He could see a compound growing larger in the distance.
"So," he said, changing the subject back toward their previous conversation. "What do you want me to do about Gabrielle?"
"Oh. Well, I just figured you're the only one that's going to be here that she knows. Maybe you could spend some time with her. It couldn't hurt. See if that helps her at all. Really, we just don't feel that comfortable leaving her alone at this point," Charlie said. Harry nodded, he understood just what Charlie was implying.
"Doesn't she have any family?" Harry asked.
"No," Charlie said. "Both of her parents were only children. And I think both her grandparents are deceased as well."
"I'll see what I can do," Harry said. He wasn't going to know anyone else at the get together anyway. And he knew he wasn't going to want to party at all.
"Thank you," Charlie said.
"Is that where we're going?" Harry nodded out the window toward the buildings that were growing larger in his window.
"It is," Charlie said. Harry could already see people milling around, even from the distance.
"I thought you said she was a poor gypsy girl," Harry laughed
"I just remember saying gypsy," Charlie commented. "And compared to you or George they're not wealthy." They both winced a bit at the reference.
"Could have fooled me," Harry laughed, attempting to keep the mood in the car light as they pulled up the drive.
"Well, we did go all out for the wedding," Charlie sighed. Harry nodded a bit as he looked around the elaborate furnishings.
"I really am sorry about that," Harry said. Charlie just shrugged.
"We'll make do," he said as the car started to pull up a long drive, heading toward the elaborate building where the ceremony was supposed to take place.
"Do I even want to know how much this was costing?" Harry laughed, gazing around.
"Probably not," Charlie admitted.
"Bill me," Harry laughed as the car drew to a stop. He got out as quickly as he could. He'd never really liked being stuck in cars. Cramped spaces in general tended to give him fits.
"Oh we couldn't do that," Charlie laughed as he got out as well.
"Yes you can," Harry laughed. "I can only imagine how much one wedding must have cost. To have to do it again." He just paused and shook his head. "Bill me. It's the least I can do."
"Harry," Charlie laughed. "We really can't do that."
"OF course we can," a soft voice said from up ahead. Harry looked up to see a pretty, short brunette girl. She had dark eyes and dark features and wore a brightly colored dress that accentuated her form quite nicely. When she moved, the entire ensemble seemed to just flow around her.
"Harry, Talia, Talia, Harry," Charlie said with a smile, gesturing to his fiancé.
"A pleasure to meet you," Harry said, offering her his hand.
"You as well," Talia responded, pulling him into a good natured hug. She let go after a moment and turned her gaze to Charlie. "Now what's this I hear about not taking money?"
"Well we weren't going to charge the guests," Charlie said.
"And we won't. But when someone is offering to give you money, you take it," she smiled brightly. Charlie blushes and looked down, which just caused Talia to laugh and give him a hug.
"Only you," he laughed. But Talia just turned her gaze back to Harry.
"Sign here," she said, holding up a piece of paper and a pen. Harry blinked, but did as she instructed, handing it back to her.
"You're in three-oh-six," she said, taking the paper before handing him a key. "We'll understand if you don't stay the entire weekend as planned. Your bag was already transported from the Portkey terminal."
"Thanks," Harry said, taking the key. The trio started walking up an outdoor marble patio, toward the hotel itself. A few guests stopped by and introduced themselves to him. Harry brushed them off as quickly as possible. It was a few minutes and a couple of autographs later that Talia spoke again.
"Did Charlie discuss our little dilemma with you?" she asked.
"Yes," Harry said. "I'll talk to her. Where is she?"
"Right up there," Charlie said, gesturing up the final few steps. Harry gazed around for a moment before he saw her sitting on the edge of the balcony, staring off into space. Her silvery blonde hair blew gently in the wind. She wore a pale blue with some silver accents. Her lips were curled into a frown and there was nothing behind her blue eyes.
"Wow," Harry said. Talia scoffed under her breath, but Charlie chuckled quietly.
"Achingly beautiful, I know," he said, staring out at her. "Just looking at her makes your chest hurt. It's amazing people aren't lining up by her to try to help her out."
"Yeah," Harry agreed.
"Well, go talk to her so I don't have to worry about her dropping off the balcony," Talia said.
"Okay," Harry said. He walked over toward her. But when he approached he realized he had absolutely no idea what he should say. Or what he should do. He didn't really know a thing about the girl sitting just a few feet away from him, pondering the loss of her entire world. And that frightened him, because he had no idea how to help. And he knew that once the shock wore off, he'd feel the exact same as she did.
Eventually he just stepped around her and sat on the balcony next to her. She didn't move, or really do anything to acknowledge his presence. So they just sat together, watching the sun make its descent over the field. It wasn't until it was dark that she turned to look at him.
"Oh," she said, looking a little startled by his presence.
"Hello Gabrielle," he said quietly. She shifted on the balcony to face him.
"Hello Harry," she said. Unlike her sister, she could pronounce both words. There was no trace of her French lineage in the two words. He remembered her English being good the last time he's spoken with her, a few years back, and it seemed to have only improved.
"How are you doing?" he asked as seriously as he could. His voice was little more than a whisper and, if he was honest, he was fairly amazed that she could hear him over the noise from the party starting behind them. The little French girl just stared at him, like she wasn't sure how to answer that question. In the end, she only came up with one word.
"Poorly," she said. And he smiled. He wasn't sure what made him doing it. And she just narrowed her eyes when he did. But something about it amused him.
"I know the feeling," he admitted. And she just kept looking at him. But then she sighed and nodded.
"I suspect you do," she said. She then looked away from him and gazed back out over the night sky, her lips pressed tightly together, her eyes tilting down toward the ground a few feet beneath them.
Again, Harry didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything.
"How are you coping?" she asked quietly. He barely heard her. He took a moment to think about that before he responded as honestly as he could.
"I'm not," he said. She just turned her gaze back to him.
"What?"
"I'm not," he repeated.
"But you look so composed," she frowned and looked, for a moment, as if she was debating some sort of conundrum.
"I'm not," he admitted. "I really just want to start drinking myself silly. I keep hoping that when I wake up next it will all have just been some sort of terrible dream."
"But you know it is not," she said.
"I do," he said. "But at this point I'm hoping that I'm wrong. It all hasn't set in yet. And I don't really know what else to do."
"I wish I had not come," she said softly. "I do not understand how they can still be having a party."
"Most of them don't realize what happened, either," Harry admitted. "They just assume we're guests of the groom and wonder where everyone else is. Tomorrow, I think, they'll understand more. But for now, they're all just excited for Talia."
"I wish I was," Gabrielle frowned.
"Me too," Harry admitted.
"It all doesn't bother you?" she asked, flipping around on the balcony so she could view the party. She slipped a bit and Harry slid a hand to her back to prevent her from falling. She didn't comment, but he let it drop as soon as she was stable.
"Not as much as the fact that despite signing at least fifty autographs today, no one has asked me how I'm doing," he responded. He intended for it to sound cheeky, but he thought it just came out bitter.
"How are you doing?" she asked, mostly out of instinct.
"About the same as you," he admitted. "But I have some more experience with it. Although, it really doesn't get any easier."
"I just wish I knew what to do," she said.
"You never do," he sighed. "The worst part, for me at least, is that everyone will expect me to say something. And I have no clue what I should say."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"Tomorrow, when Charlie and Talia explain why the wedding is postponed. And have their remembrance. I'll be the one that has to talk about how Molly and Arthur took me in during my summers away from Hogwarts. And I'll have to talk about how Ron and Hermione were my rocks during the war. Then I'll have to mention something about George, probably something about the war as well.
"And then I'll have to talk about Ginny. And probably something about youthful love and lie about how I still cared for her. And how I'll really miss her.
"After that I'll have to say something about Bill, purely because it would be improper to leave a Weasley out. But I don't really know anything about Bill. I can tell the same story, I suspect, about how he helped me toward the end of the war. But I haven't spent really any time with he or Fleur since then. I know nothing about them. I can't even really say anything about your sister except that I suspect she really did love Bill, and that she participated in the Triwizard Tournament with me."
"And that will make people feel better?" Gabrielle asked.
"I doubt it," Harry said. "It will make me feel worse. That much I know for certain. But I can't control that. I'll be expected to speak. Because I'm Harry Potter. They won't care that all I'm saying is words meant to appease them. Or that I can't talk about your parents because I only ever met them once, and briefly at that."
"I'm sorry," Gabrielle frowned.
"You have nothing to apologize for. I just have to hope that those few empty words will be good enough for them. Because the things that haunt me more are the things I can't say. I can't talk about how Hermione smiling at me got me through countless nights of the war. I can't talk about how much I wanted her when we were alone in that tent. And I can't talk about how I felt like I betrayed them both by wanting her.
"I can't talk about how a part of me was actually relieved when I thought I had to die. And how I thought that if that ended the war, that perhaps everyone would simply be happy. And how quidditch was more of an escape than anything. It gave me an excuse to not be around. An excuse to let everyone else live their lives. At the very least, though, I do love flying.
"But no. Those are the things I can't ever say in public. And there's more. We all have the things that we can't talk about. The things that should never be mentioned. And those are just a few of mine. But every time I have to talk about the war. Every interview I have to give. Every memorial I have to attend on every anniversary. Those are the only things I can really think about.
"And now, I don't have help for those days. And I can't talk about how that makes me feel," he finished, shaking his head. Gabrielle was simply staring at him. She looked transfixed, almost in complete awe, as he spoke.
"I do not know what to say," she said, after he finished talking.
"Nothing," he said. "There's nothing you can say. After all, this conversation never happened." She just looked at him, her eyes were watering, and he couldn't help but think that, at least, it was better than the empty look.
"What do we do now?" she asked. And he just smiled at her. He knew it looked genuine, but it was the same smile he plastered onto his face for any team appearance or quidditch promotional. It was as fake as it could possibly be, but he had plenty of practice to make it look genuine.
"Now? We're going to go get a drink. And we're going to act like we care a little bit about this party. Because to not do that would be rude. And once we've had our drink, we're going to go to bed. Because tomorrow is going to be even harder than today. And we're both going to need our rest for it," Harry explained. He stood and offered his arm to her. She looked hesitantly at him, her cheeks flushed pink. But she stood as well and took his arm.
"I do not know if tomorrow could be any more difficult than today," Gabrielle said as Harry moved them over toward the bar. He grabbed a glass of wine for each of them.
"It will be," Harry said. "Because tomorrow everyone will know. And everyone will come up to you and express their condolences. And you'll have to smile and thank them. And act like their words mean anything to you when in reality they're hollow. Tomorrow will seem like it will never, ever end. But when it finally does. Well, that's when things finally start to get easier. One day at a time." She couldn't have known that he was speaking more to himself than he was to her. But she seemed to take some comfort in his words, in the knowledge that eventually, things would be better. Even if it did seem like her entire world had ended.
"But it does get better?" she asked quietly, as they finished up their wine.
"Slowly, but yes," Harry responded. He put their two empty glasses back onto the bar and looked at her. She looked exhausted. "What room are you in?"
"Three twenty-two," she responded instantly, blushing a little bit more as she spoke.
"Well, sleep is the best help," he said, and he started to lead her up toward the rooms. She followed without question or comment. He stopped them outside her door. She unlocked it and looked up at him.
"Thank you, Harry," she said. He just nodded and hugged her, tightly.
"Thank you, Gabrielle," he mirrored as she hugged him back.
"For what?" she asked.
"I needed to talk," he said. She just tightened her grip on him. And then she said what he knew had really been frightening her for most of the day.
"It really does get better, right?" her voice was soft. Her breath caught in her throat and she sniffled.
"Yes," Harry responded. "Slowly. But it does. It's never quite the same as it was before. But it does get better." He could feel she was crying. But he didn't acknowledge it. He just held her for a few moments and let her cry. Because he knew that she probably needed to cry. And that she would probably need to cry for a good portion of the evening. Eventually, she broke away from him.
"Désolé!" she said. Harry doubted she ever realized she switched to French.
"Don't worry about it," he responded. "Now get some rest. I'll be around tomorrow. We can grin and bear it together."
"Okay," she said. And with that she slipped into her room. Harry just walked down the hall to his own. But there wasn't much else he could do. He entered his room quickly, but didn't really bother to look around. Instead he went straight to the honor bar.
There wasn't any alcohol in his honor bar. Which both surprised and annoyed him. But he suspected with the amount of free drinks flowing down below there wasn't of a purpose to have it in the room.
He looked at the clock. It wasn't nearly late enough for him to attempt to go to sleep. But he was too far away to floo anyone back in England. He should have had Titus come along. Then he'd at least have a drinking buddy and wouldn't feel like a lush.
Of course, that just gave him an idea. He walked over toward the fire and tossed some of the powder into it. He didn't know if his friend was home, but at least he was within range.
"What?" a gruff voice answered his call a moment later. Harry just smirked a bit.
"Come through, I need a drinking buddy," Harry said. There was a moment of silence.
"Potter?" it asked.
"Yes," Harry responded.
"Where are you?" he asked.
"Oh just come through and get pissed with me and I'll explain everything," Harry ordered.
"I have a match tomorrow," the voice argued.
"You'll be fine," Harry said. And a moment later the fire roared a bit and Viktor Krum stepped through it.
"I am sorry about," he started, but Harry waved him off.
"I don't want to hear about that anymore today. I just want to drink," Harry admitted.
"Well, where is the bar, then?" Viktor asked and Harry just smirked before leading him from the room and down toward the party.
Author's Note: As always, thanks for reading. The best way to contact me is typically through PM on the website. I tend to respond to the majority of those.