Chapter III: Grief

He sat down, drinking something strong that reminded him heavily of firewhiskey, with Fleur in her cosy apartment along the Thames. How she managed to acquire one on her limited salary as a Gringotts intern he could not hope to fathom, though he was suspecting that her Veela heritage might have played into it.

Why she was drinking so much alcohol and giving him some too, he had no idea. Maybe she had a bad day at work? Not that he was complaining, firewhiskey was so hard to come by these days due to the absence of Fred and George that knew every nook and cranny in Hogwarts, school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

His map did help but he just didn't have the shop-keeper contacts or the drive of the twins to set up any crazy parties of his own.

They were finally all alone and Harry was nervous. What was he supposed to say? What lie would he have to cook up to explain why he escaped Hogwarts, was chased by an auror and then had to stay over at the house of an engaged friend who he rarely spoke with?

He opened his mouth, searching on something to comment on, when he jumped in his seat. Fleur had abandoned her drink and was holding him in a hug, her frozen smile long thawed away in private. His face rested on her chest as he hesitantly returned her hug as apprehension started clouding his mind.

No. The Daily Prophet hadn't, couldn't, have published the contents of his letter that quickly. If it did, then it was definitely Rita's animagus form that had been behind this and she would have spent a lot more time bargaining for a higher cut from her employers and building up hype to the release. Then why was Fleur hugging him as though he was about to die?

He regarded the room in its entirety and spotted the parchment that he had sent her scant hours ago during the eves of morning. But something was wrong – it was turned upside down, scribbles that were by his hand but more numerous in detail than his scant letter to Fleur had been, filling up half the page easily.

That was the letter! With a half-visible invisibility glyph that he had learned to do just some days ago to make sure that the letter was not read before it needed to be read.

Oh. Oh, that explained it.

He leaned in against Fleur as she began sobbing all over his shirt. He was such an idiot. Such an –

"Why?" Fleur's voice shook as she interrupted his thoughts with the single word.

She must have read it. All of it. He tried to leave her grasp but she was holding him in an iron grip, as if as soon as she would let him go, he would fade out into non-existence in front of her eyes. Instead of fighting with her, he just brought her along from the chair and clutched the offending letter with one hand.

One Incendio later disposed of the sinning piece of rubbish that had ruined his entire day. Supposedly this was how Voldemort felt in regards to him – he never thought that he would feel empathy to the murderer of his parents.

Fleur's light make-up was running down her face and he was at a loss at what to do. Only a handy towel that he managed to grab saved both of their sets of clothing.

She pulled him to the couch, "Why?"

He couldn't keep it off forever; the faster it was over, the better, "I was weak." The words felt dirty in his mouth, he imagined that he would be scrubbing it dry quite soon.

"You saved Gabrielle. She would be devastated if you died 'Arry. Many people would be devastated."

"I know that."

Her mood changed in seconds as she became angry, "Then why did you write this! Why go through with it! You are smarter than this!"

"It would be over so quick," he muttered into her blond hair.

Fleur was back to tears as she hit his back, "Don't you dare die 'Arry. Don't you dare!"

"Death comes for us all," he replied with his best Dumbledore impersonation.

"Oh you silly, silly little boy. It doesn't mean that you should seek out Death first," she scolded him, holding him even closer.

Harry became indignant at her calling him a little boy before he calmed down just as suddenly. Fleur didn't really mean to annoy him. She had hid his ass from Tonks and offered him a place to stay during a difficult time. Fleur was a true friend unlike him. Besides, her words had some merit. He did just try to off himself.

He met her dark blue eyes, "I promise that I won't write another letter like that."

"You better," she sighed, "You better or I will resurrect you and kill you myself."

He chuckled. Classical Fleur. At least she hadn't turned into her Veela form and started throwing flaming fireballs in his general vicinity. He would prefer to fight the Hungarian Horntail any day rather than stand against a human and quarter avian that could throw fireballs around like toys.

He imagined Fleur's mother watching as child Fleur turned into a fiery creature of hazard and started setting a mall on fire in a temper tantrum because her parents didn't want to buy her a stuffed toy. He grinned. If he ever met them, he would need to ask them for this amazing blackmail – erm... educational material.

"What are you planning to do now?" the subject of his thoughts asked him, still clutching onto him, not quite realising that leaping off of towers was kind of on the back-burner of his mind right now.

It was then that he realised that he was an idiot. He was Harry-freaking-Potter. The Boy-Who-Lived. The Chosen One. His disappearance would cause a nation-wide manhunt and utter chaos.

But it was worth it because if he hadn't gone, then the letter could still have gotten in the wrong hands. As it was, the letter was destroyed and there were no witnesses to even its existence. Except for Fleur.

"I dunno. Probably go back to Hogwarts, pretend as if nothing happened..." he stopped when he noticed a glean in Fleur's eyes.

It reminded him of when Hermione developed a new study technique to cram even more studying into their timetable. He just hoped that Fleur wouldn't make him study during the winter hols. Or take him to any parties – the Slug Club Christmas party just six days ago where he found out Draco's and Snape's involvement in yet another dastardly plot had been enough for him already.

"So that you can commit... this!" she vaguely pointed at the burnt out ashes of the letter, "While I am not looking?"

"No Fleur, I have already tried and –"

"You what?!"

He tried to calm her down, "I decided to jump of the tallest tower but there was this strong gale that pushed me back and –"

"So the only reason that you're alive is because of a wind!" Fleur was becoming hysterical and holding him in an iron grip again as she squeezed the life out of him in a hug reminiscent of Molly Weasley.

He should have just kept his mouth shut. No way was she letting him off the hook now.

"Non! You shall never do this again! Promise me 'Arry. Never again!"

Logically he should have just nodded and said 'Yes' but he hesitated. He didn't like being ordered around and it was his life...

"'Arry! Don't you dare!"

He tried to untangle himself from her inviting, delicate arms.

"'Arry!" Fleur began sobbing even harder.

Finally he broke free from her grasp but looking over her, a bit of Harry's heart died. Fleur was a mess. Her jumper was crumpled, her make-up ruined, her hands bruised and to top it all off she was still sobbing her heart out with her shoulders slumped downwards.

He couldn't just leave her. He wouldn't be able to live with himself – and wasn't that quite the ironic thing to think about?

He grabbed Fleur's light body by the waist and brought her to the toilet where he opened the tap water and gently washed off the black stains adoring her face. Or well he at least tried to be gentle – didn't stop some of the tap water drenching Fleur's shirt.

He sat her on the toilet, and not knowing where her clothes were having never stayed in the house before, took off his own shirt despite how shy he felt. He didn't recognize himself. Too much firewhiskey – he seriously needed to build up his tolerance before someone like Romilda Vane sent him a bottle and he ended up in bed with her.

His brave act of sacrifice caused Fleur to stop crying. When he began taking off her jumper, she began laughing instead with her angelic voice that he found oddly addictive, "Harry! I'm engaged!"

He gave her a conspirational wink, "Bill doesn't need to know."

She continued laughing but didn't stop him from taking off her soaked-through shirt. He never thought he would be so bold and his will flailed once he saw Fleur sitting within breathing distance in just her bra and pants. He quickly averted his eyes to prevent making the situation any worse (he had already cocked up with the letter) and hung the piece of cloth in the bathroom before giving her his own as a peace offering.

Fleur just raised an amused eyebrow, swaying slightly from side to side. Sighing for the hundredth time that day, he manually lifted her arms and dressed her in his shirt. He did admit that she looked quite nice in it – didn't change the fact that it was still his. Healers seriously needed to look into the positive effects of alcohol more. The world was swimming.

Feeling even bolder now that he had managed to undress and redress a Veela without any hormonal side-effects, or at least that's what he told himself amidst Fleur's giggling; he pulled her along to the only bedroom in the place. Although before he could enter, Fleur whispered into his ear, "Lose the pants".

At this rate, his face would become permanently etched in red.

"This is my house and one of its rules is that nobody wears pants in the bedroom," as if to demonstrate this, Fleur dropped her own and kicked them away.

"Why?" he whined as he held himself steady on the door frame.

"Maybe because yours are muddy and I don't want dirt on my bed?"

She made a good point. He unzipped his pants and tried as hard as he could not to look below the waist, convinced that this was Fleur's way to get revenge on him, and followed suit. In for a Knut, in for a Galleon.

They lay next to each other, Fleur randomly giggling at his attempts to cover himself up with blankets.

"Stop giggling. I am practically naked! It's not funny!"

"But you are so adorable," she cooed as she moved her fingers under his chin in a patronising manner.

"That's it!" he moved his fingers to tickle her stomach, as he had seen the Weasley twins sometimes do to Ginny to annoy her, but it elicited no reaction.

"Ha! I'm not like you little boy! I'm not ticklish!"

He growled as he moved his hands, trying to find a spot before he brushed her neck causing Fleur to immediately and inadvertently shriek.

"Gotcha!"

She twisted through the bed sheets as he chased her over, under and through them in search of pay back.

Before long they both just lay side-by-side, staring at the ceiling, both of them exhausted; Harry from the constant movement and Fleur from her emotional breakdown.

"'Arry?" Fleur asked as she turned to him.

"Hmm?" he turned to look at her as well.

"Never again," she gave him a meaningful look that portrayed a thousand thoughts.

"Promise," he breathed, not moving his eyes away from hers.

Before long they were both asleep on the comfortable mattress, a faint smile etched on his sleeping body.