Hello, here I am again, for those who found the last chapter a bit lacking in action, here is some at last! More on the humorous side, to be sure, and no DE's or anything, but I do hope you like it nevertheless. Although the fluffy side of things is developing a bit… Thanks for all the lovely reviews, and keep them coming, they are a writer's food and nourishment.

Chapter 4 – One Summer Sunday Morning

"Crucio!" The cold voice hissed and the hooded figure of the death eater crumpled, screaming and writhing in pain at the feet of his master. A mirthless laugh, and Voldemort turned his horrible red eyes on Harry. He raised his wand- and Harry woke with a scream, like so many of the nights before.

Like so many nights before, he was soaked in cold sweat, and glanced around him wildly for a second or two until he realised that he was- like so many nights before- in his small bare room in the Dursleys' house. He didn't bother to check the time on his watch; it was still dark and the window outlined in a pale orange square, due to the street lamp directly in front of the house.

"Hedwig?" he asked into the darkness, and then remembered he had sent her off with the letter to Fleur. "She can't possibly be back yet," he muttered to himself. "Owls just can't fly that fast…"

Nevertheless, he got up from his bed after putting on his glasses, stretched, and walked over to the open window to look out at the deserted street, which looked a lot more peaceful than it actually was, what with all the quarrelling, lying and fighting going on behind the spotless facades.

A hooting sound drew his attention, and he raised his glance to the night sky.

"Hedwig?" he said, surprised. "How come you…"

He stopped, rubbing his eyes in surprise. "What in Merlin's-" he began. Indeed, it was no trick of the light or anything, there were definitely TWO snowy white owls approaching his window.

"Hedwig?" re said again, taking a step backwards to allow the birds to alight on the window sill. "What's the matter? How can you be back already, and what- who have you brought with you? In fact-" he looked from one bird to the other in amazement, "which of you IS Hedwig?"

The owl that had landed first ruffled her feathers in that familiar way that, as Harry knew from experience, indicated she was irritated or annoyed with something.

"YOU are Hedwig," he said triumphantly. "I'd now that expression everywhere. But then- who's your friend?"

Hedwig- if it was indeed her- clicked her beak angrily and flew over to her cage to perch on top of it. Now Harry had the chance to look at the second owl more closely. And now he realised that, although the two birds looked exactly alike, this one did not have Hedwig's yellow eyes. Even in the darkness of his room he could see that these eyes were of a deep blue, almost black, the colour of a clear night sky far away from the city.

"Eyes to get lost in," the thought flashed through his mind out of nowhere, as he gazed at the owl, fascinated.

And then realisation where he had seen these eyes before dawned on him.

"Fleur?"

He could not have put into words how it happened; how the bird started to change, how it grew in size, how the white feathers became a silver blonde mane of hair, how there was suddenly a slender body in white robes, how the sharp beak turned into the beautiful lips he remembered only too well. Only her amazing eyes never changed. There were tears shining in them.

Harry stared at her, transfixed, unable to move or to utter a sound.

With a small, birdlike sound, something between a sob and a gasp, she threw her arms around him; he woke from his trance and responded, holding her awkwardly, wondering if he was dreaming. Her hair cascaded around them as she leaned her head on his shoulder.

"Oh Harry," now her voice was really a sob. "How could you doubt? Do you know how that letter made me feel? Do you still not know you are not a 'little boy' to me, and will never be? That was a cruel thing to say in your letter – pity! Don't you know it's so much more? Oh, there were days when I thought I'd never see you again…"

"I'm so sorry," he managed to say hoarsely. "I didn't mean to… it's just… I don't know, I just feel- feel so small and unimportant, I can hardly believe anybody cares for me… and then- just look at you…"

She lifted her head from his shoulder, her lovely blue eyes looking deep into his.

"Shh," she said. "Not a word more. Harry, when will you learn not to take yourself down all the time? Don't you realise you are special? Special to the world-"she felt him recoil and added quickly, "but, most of all, special to me. You are unique to me, Harry, and I don't ever want to hear you doubt this!"

Her words came hurriedly, desperately, and her embrace tightened. He felt tears stinging in his eyes and he buried his face in her magnificent mane of silver, inhaling her faint smell of lilacs.

The feeling of her warm body so close led to inevitable reactions, just to be expected from a teenage boy, and his bed clothes only consisting of boxers and a T-shirt did not help to hide the fact. Embarrassed he drew back.

"I'm sorry," he stammered. "I didn't mean to…"

She released him from her embrace and put her soft hand on his cheek, which felt hot to her touch. She was careful not to smile.

"I know, Harry," she said quietly. "It's only natural. And I believe I ought to feel flattered…" Now she could not hold back her smile any longer, but the awkward moment had passed and he could smile at her, too.

"I'm still not quite sure if I'm not dreaming," he said after a while, sitting down on the bed without taking his eyes off her face. "You know what tells me it's probably not a dream after all? I've not had a happy dream for ages… But- but tell me, how come you are here? I thought your mother wouldn't let you out of her sight once you were back home? And how- when did you learn to be an owl?"

Fleur sat down beside him, put an arm around him and rested his head on her shoulder. He let it happen willingly.

"I got your letter… and it made me want to be with you so much it hurt. And grandma- the full Veela, you know- taught me how to transform. And because I missed you so much, I could suddenly do it… And then I bullied Hedwig so that she'd lead me to you… She didn't like it at all; I'm afraid she's jealous of me." She giggled softly.

"Your grandmother? The one whose hair is in your wand?"

"Yes. You should really get to know her some day. She's a wonderful person. I don't know what I'd do without her."

"But- I only sent Hedwig off this evening, it can't have been more than seven or eight hours. And it must be a couple of thousands of miles to your place… Owls don't fly that fast, do they?"

"Magical owls can. Don't ask me how it works, something to do with interdimensional levels and things, I believe. Anyway, once I got the hang of this transformation business, it was simple. My grandmother will be so happy."

"And your mother? Is she still behaving horribly to you?"

"No. It's absolutely strange, but since my return she has changed completely. The prototype of the loving mother… I can't imagine what brought it about; grandma talked to her, I suppose, but can that talk have been so effective? I sometimes wonder if there might be some sinister purpose behind it all…"

Shall I tell him about her and Wormtail? No, what's the use? It would just darken his mood…

"I'm probably just being paranoid," she continued instead. "Why can't I just enjoy a good thing while I have it? Like being with you…"

"Well, I daresay you are right, but I'm sure I'd get suspicious if the Dursleys suddenly behaved like loving relatives…"

"The Dursleys? Oh, yes, those awful muggles. Are they still giving you a hard time?"

"Well, they've done worse… Look at this-" he pointed around the shabby room, "It's a spacious suite compared to the place I spent the first ten years of my life in. I ought to be content, I guess… And I do get food down in the kitchen, not through the cat-flap that they installed especially for that purpose… So, yes, it's not all that bad…"

"I do wish I could do something to help you!"

"I don't think there is anything… Wait-" a grin spread over his face. "Do you think you could just casually walk up to the door, ring the bell and ask to speak to me? Today's Sunday, so I don't have to go to the factory. It would be great fun to see their faces, especially Dudley's… If it's not too much bother for you, of course. And I have to warn you, they are not exactly the nicest people on earth."

Fleur giggled quietly.

"This sounds good indeed. Let's have a bit of fun with them. – I AM allowed to do magic in the holidays, you know."

During their conversation, dawn had started out in the streets, with the first nuances of blue and turquoise beginning to appear.

Fleur got up from the bed, pulling Harry with her.

"Let's look at our star," she said softly.

"Our star?"

"Oh I forgot… Remember what you say in your letter, what happened that morning when you looked at the star? Well, the same thing happened to me too, in exactly the same way, and it must have been at exactly the same time, too! Can you still doubt we are meant to be special?"

Harry could not speak as all kinds of feelings threatened to overwhelm him. He just nodded.

Hand in hand they moved over to the open window, and above the treetops there it was again, the bright glittering star.

"Venus," Fleur whispered in Harry's ear, "But I like the other name better: Phosphorus, the bringer of light…"

Together they looked on until the star had disappeared in the growing morning sunlight.

Xxx

"Hurry up with that bacon, boy," Vernon grunted, his mouth full. "And while you're at it, I can do with some more tea, too."

"Yes, Uncle Vernon."

Secretly, Harry glanced at the kitchen clock. Any minute now, Fleur would ring the bell.

"What are you grinning at? Watch out and don't burn the bacon!"

"No, Aunt Petunia."

Ring!

Harry's heart leapt, but he managed to remain outwardly calm.

"Now what the devil…"huffing and puffing, full of breakfast as he was, Vernon heaved himself out of his chair. "Not even on Sunday morning…" he grumbled as he went out into the hall and towards the door.

Dudley, who was more interested in his breakfast than in any boring people who might be calling on his father, remained sitting at the table and helped himself to the slices of bacon on his father's plate. Where food was concerned, Dudley Dursley was a very conscientious person.

Grateful for his cousin's greediness, Harry slipped out behind his uncle, who was quite successfully blocking the narrow hallway. If Dudley had also been there, the space would have been completely filled up. Harry positioned himself two steps up the stairs, so that he could see the door past his uncle's head.

"What do you…" Vernon was starting to say as he opened the door, but his voice trailed off into an indistinct murmur, and even from his position Harry could see how something like a jolt went through his massive bulk.

In the bright sunlight that came streaming in through the open door, Fleur was a dark silhouette, her hair forming a shimmering halo around her.

Fleur's first impression of Vernon Dursley was not a favourable one, to put it mildly. The massive freckled face, jaws still munching, with bits of baked beans clinging to the thick moustache was not an altogether enjoyable sight, and the stained napkin that was still stuck into Vernon's shirt collar did not really help to improve his appearance.

Quite subconsciously, Fleur's Veela ancestry took command. The look of her suddenly ice blue eyes would have frozen a volcano as she said,

"Bon jour, je desire de parle a 'Arry Potter, s'il-vous plait."

All Vernon could do was gape at her open-mouthed, emitting a faint gurgling sound, which did not exactly make him appear more intelligent.

"Pardon," Fleur, who started to enjoy herself a good deal, said sweetly. "Ees it posseeble to speak to 'Arry Potter?" She was putting on a highly artificial French accent, and Harry, who knew her English was a lot better than that, grinned to himself. "Zees ees 'is 'ouse, ees it not?"

Normally, Vernon would have had something to say about the preposterous idea of this being Harry's house, but somehow he didn't seem to be able to think clearly. Finally managing to close his mouth, he stepped aside, and Fleur entered. Harry noticed that the dazzling smile she gave his uncle was very different from those she normally had for him. There was something uncanny, almost sinister in that smile.

Gosh, I hope she'll never smile at me like that.

At that moment, Dudley, who had obviously found nothing eatable on the kitchen table any more, appeared in the kitchen door, his mouth still full of food, wiping his hands on the seat of his trousers. When he saw Fleur standing in the hallway, he stopped dead in his tracks, his mouth fell open like his father's had before, presenting an interesting mixture of egg yolk, baked beans and crushed toast for inspection.

Fleur shot him another dose of her Veela smile and then turned to Harry. He noticed that her eyes were the usual deep blue of the night sky again.

"Oh, 'Arry, 'ere you are!" she said, hugged him and made quite a show of kissing him squarely on the lips.

The kiss seemed to break the spell on the two Dursleys. True, Dudley continued gaping stupidly at the apparition of the stunning girl, although he at least closed his mouth, but Vernon woke from his trance for good. He wasn't sure what had just happened, and this annoyed him a good deal.

Purple in the face, but apparently afraid of addressing Fleur directly, he bellowed at Harry:

"You, boy! Who is this impudent person? Another of those freakish friends of yours, obviously! What's she doing in my house? Tell her to get out at once!"

The shouting caused Petunia to appear on the scene too. She froze as she set eyes on Fleur. Her female instincts told her that there was something about that girl, something "unnatural" as she used to term it, and that the sooner that indecently beautiful creature left her house, the better. It would simply not do to have her husband in the same room with her any longer than could be helped. Wisely, though, she decided to keep in the background for the moment. Of course, Vernon was making a fool of himself, what with shouting like that, and goggling fish-eyed, but she expected she would be able to use it for her own advantage later on. After all, there was that rather nice but expensive dress she had seen at MarksSpencer's the other day...

"Oh, so sorry, Uncle Vernon," Harry said with mock seriousness. "Meet my friend, Mademoiselle Fleur Delacour, Tri-Wizard Tournament champion, and, I'm proud and happy to say, my girl-friend. And now, if you'll excuse us, we'd like to go out for a walk. The weather is too beautiful to stay indoors. Don't expect me back before evening, and have a nice day!"

And he took Fleur's arm, gentleman-like, and escorted her past his uncle out into the glorious sunshine.

At once, Dudley started throwing one of his famous tantrums that his parents knew only too well and dreaded accordingly.

"His girlfriend" he screamed, his voice rising to a considerable level. "I want a girl like that! Why does he get to have everything? Dad, do something"

Even Dudley, dim-witted as he was, sensed vaguely that this was one of the things his father had no power to change, and this made him even more frustrated and furious. Vernon, who had probably been thinking about Fleur in a similar way, although he had sense enough not to express any of those wishes loudly in the presence of his wife, grumbled something indistinct and returned into the kitchen.

Petunia, though, rushed forward to comfort her son.

"Dudders, sweetheart" she said, trying to pull him into her arms, from which he recoiled. He just hated his mother's protestations of affection. "It's just one of those freaks, you know. You don't want to have anything to do with THEM, do you? I wouldn't be surprised if she turned into a- a toad or something. Nothing for my Duddy-boy, really! You deserve better, much better"

Dudley did not bother to reply, but his entire attitude indicated very clearly that he was not interested in anything 'better' at all.

Xxx

Privet Drive and the other suburban streets were already alive with people, and lots of heads turned to watch as Harry and Fleur were ambling by, holding hands. Most of the neighbours knew that the Potter boy was weird, and spent most of the year at some mysterious institution for youthful troublemakers. The men used to nod wisely when Vernon stressed that in St. Brutus' they still upheld the time-honoured tradition of the cane, and the women sympathised with Petunia when she told them how she worked her fingers to the bone for that ungrateful brat. "Never so much as a thank you," she used to whine, and they would pat her arm and make commiserating noises. Most people used to take the Dursleys' stories about Harry for granted, and the fact that when they saw him at all he was wearing old shabby clothes, ill-fitting and with badly mended holes and tears in them, just proved to them that they must be true. It hardly ever occurred to anyone to ask themselves why the boy never wore anything new.

Now today, Harry was again wearing old things of Dudley's, faded jeans, four sizes too wide, a horrible pink T-shirt and a green blazer with patched-up elbows that was reaching down almost to his knees. No, nothing remarkable about the Potter boy.

But the girl! Men who were mowing their lawns ran into trees, and some who were washing their cars (both very popular Sunday morning activities in Privet Drive and environs) fell over buckets when they twisted their necks to get a better look at her. Something like her had never entered the narrow world of Little Whinging, Surrey. Her gorgeous hair alone, shimmering in waves down to her waist, its unearthly silver glittering in the sunlight, was enough to increase heart rates, and the slender, perfectly proportioned figure in the extravagant flowing white dress (the term robe does not occur to muggles easily) triggered quite a number of fantasies as well. From kitchen or living room windows, women were watching the pair, too, and their feelings for the girl were not the friendliest.

How on earth did that Potter boy get to know a girl like that? It was unbelievable.

"Look at them," Fleur giggled, as another lawn-mowing gentleman fell over his own feet staring at her, and was almost run over by the machine. "I don't want to imagine how they'd behave if the Veela charm was still intact. I suppose it's because they are muggles; they are more susceptible, don't you think?"

"I have no idea," Harry replied, squeezing her hand happily. "And I don't care. It's just so good to be with you again. I haven't felt so good in weeks. Now, what can we do on this beautiful day?"

"I don't know, it's your town, isn't it? But how about going somewhere with not so many people staring at us?"

"You," he corrected, smiling. "Staring at you."

"Thank you. Was that a compliment?"

"No, it's the truth. But I guess you're right, there's nothing wrong with a little less publicity. It's quite some walk, however, till we are out of town for good; and I haven't got any money for the bus, too. He never gives me any, you know, and I have a feeling a Surrey bus driver won't accept any sickles- though I think his face would make an interesting study."

"I'm not familiar with the surroundings, of course, and I only got my licence a couple of days ago," Fleur said hesitatingly. "But there shouldn't be any harm in trying…"

"Trying what?"

"Apparating."

"You can- oh, of course, I forgot… But I can't; the ministry would come down on me like a ton of bricks… not that I could do it, anyway…"

"I can Apparate with you as long as we hold on tightly to each other. It's much like portkey transportation, you know. Now, just give me an idea of the place you'd like to go…"

Xxx

The narrow river was gliding noiselessly past, tiny ripples glittering in the sunlight; the sun was high up in the slightly hazy summer sky, in which a few blinding white clouds slowly formed and vanished again. The air was still and warm, filled with the low droning of insects, now and then interrupted by the sleepy warbling of a small bird.

Fleur and Harry were lying side by side in the lush green meadow near the river bank, both gazing dreamily up at the sky. Now and then their hands touched and their fingers intertwined.

"If this is a dream, then I only wish I'll never wake up," Harry murmured, giving Fleur's hand another caress. "Everything seems so far away, so unimportant- Hogwarts, even Voldemort… It's as if … oh, I don't know how to say it… it's only you that matters…"

Fleur rolled over to her side, supported herself on an elbow and looked into his emerald eyes. "No," she said softly, stroking his hair with her free hand, "it's us that matter…"

And she leaned over him for another feather light kiss.

The roar of a motor bike tore through the silence. Fleur and Harry sat up and turned round to look at the intruder. A shining black machine was just coming to a stop on the path a few yards away. Two stocky figures in black leather dismounted.

"Oh no," said Harry, as the riders removed their helmets. "Dudley; and Pierce Polkiss."

"My oh my," they could hear Dudley say gleefully, when he had recognised them. "What have we got here?"

He and his friend walked slowly towards Fleur and Harry, who stood up to face them. Harry recognised the look on his cousin's face only too well.

"He's going to make trouble," he told Fleur in a whisper. "And he knows I can't do magic."

She shot him a reassuring and amused smile. "But I can," she whispered back, "and he doesn't know that." She felt for her wand inside her robe.

"Aw, sweetie," Dudley addressed Fleur, when he had reached the two of them, in a manner he had seen in various action films and that he thought was irresistible. "Now what's a girl like you doing with a loser like that? You can do so much better!"

"With you, I suppose?" The ice in Fleur's voice was almost tangible, and her smile was frightening. At least this was what Harry felt, Dudley, too obtuse to sense it, failed to notice the former altogether and took the latter at face value.

"Yeah, honey," he drawled on. "Why don't I kick that-" he nodded his head at Harry, "into the river, and show you what a really good time is like? Take care of him, Pierce," he said to his friend. And he grabbed Fleur round her waist with both hands, grinning broadly. "Come, baby, just be a little bit nice to old Dudley-"

Like lightning, Fleur whipped out her wand, and slammed the tip against Dudley's chest, which caused him to loosen his grip and stagger backwards a foot or two.

"Stupefy"

With all her fury, her voice remained cold like ice, and was barely more than a whisper, but the effect of the spell, perhaps because of her anger, or perhaps in combination of some residue of the Veela magic, was the most stunning Harry had ever witnessed. Like a cannonball, Dudley shot off his feet, and forcefully backwards, straight into the motor bike, which fell over with a crash, Dudley on top of it.

Fleur was standing there, eyes sparkling, her wand arm extended straight towards Dudley, her magnificent hair streaming behind her in a sudden gust of wind that had appeared from nowhere. She was indeed a marvellous, and at the same time frightening sight.

Pierce Polkiss, not the fastest thinker at the best of times, was still gaping stupidly when Fleur turned to him. He had not even time to blanch before she said in the same dangerously quiet voice,

"Petrificus totalis"

He had no idea what was happening, as he felt his arms and legs snap together as if being forced to stand at attention, and presently, he fell forward, stiff as a log.

Calmly, Fleur put away her wand, turned round and looked at Harry, grinning widely.

"C'est ca"

Harry, although he had seen magic being performed countless times, was quite impressed, nevertheless.

"Now I know why the goblet chose you for champion" he said, taking both her hands in his. "My, I would so hate to have you as an enemy"

"Not to worry, Mr. Potter" she replied, kissing him briefly. "No danger of that, ever! Now let's take this" she indicated Pierce"over to the first big goof."

They both grabbed Pierce by the legs and dragged him over to where Dudley was still lying in a heap.

"What shall we do with them" Harry mused. "It would be a good thing if they didn't remember what happened... Uncle Vernon wouldn't like it one bit..."

"No problem" Fleur said lightly. Then she turned towards the two figures, pointed her wand at them and muttered"Obliviate"

"They'll think they had an accident" she told Harry"And if I judge them correctly, each will blame the other for it. Their machine will also not run by itself any more, they'll have to push it to town. It will take them quite some time, I believe..."

"Fleur, you're marvellous! What have I done to deserve..."

"Shh, Harry, I've told you before, I don't want to hear it. Now, just kiss me, as I'll have to go back home soon."

To which Harry readily complied.