Inspiration: Gopher Mambo (Yma Sumac). The music is used in a Russian TV comedy series based on a French restaurant in Moscow. I am not sure if there are any translations of the series but it's worth a watch if only for the surreality.

Chapter IV: Concealment

His blissful sleep was interrupted by the door banging open, "Fleur! I'm home!"

He looked around, his neck cracking at a junction. He was lying in bed with Fleur in just his boxers, his hand in her hair, while she lay in his shirt. He had an epiphany. If Bill found them this way...

He shook Fleur awake, his head ringing, "Fleur wake up."

"Hmm. 'Arry? Just five more minutes," she said dismissively as she tucked herself in further.

"Fleur, Bill is here!"

This got her eyes to shoot open and a few milliseconds later have her mouth drop open as well as she realised the same thing as him. They were screwed.

Hurriedly, she turned around to her dresser and found her wand gone.

"Merde!"

He hurriedly got off the bed and made a bee-line to the cupboard, stumbling a bit here and there. It's not as if he would be comfortable jumping off a seven story drop. He made sure to take his pants along the way with the wand in them to remove the evidence and as a safety measure. Afterall if Bill discovered him, Weasley friend or not, he would be in for a world of hurt.

"Fleur!" Bill's voice rang throughout the apartment.

Oh shit. He opened the cupboard door and squeezed in among the bundles of Fleur's clothing and narrowly avoided stepping onto any of the shoes that littered the floor. It felt as though Fleur could wear a new outfit every day of the year and a new pair of shoes to go with it and never have to wear the same thing twice.

Pressed against the door, he held himself steady just as the bedroom's door opened wide open.

"Fleur?"

"Hello Honey. You're early," she said, twisting to give him a smile that Harry was sure that she used for her customers at work.

"Well considering it's six, I think I am actually pretty late," Bill's voice echoed aloud as the door to the bedroom door closed.

If Harry hadn't been so frightened over being caught, he would have probably made a dash for it. As it was, he just hoped to whatever God there was that Bill didn't find him.

Bill and Fleur exchanged a kiss before he leaned back and said, "Nice shirt. I don't remember you buying that one for me.

Fleur just gave him a smile and kissed him more, "I've missed you."

"Wait," Bill separated from Fleur and looked properly at her, "Are you drunk?"

Fleur batted her eyelashes, "Do I look like I'm drunk, Bill?"

Bill's eyes roved carefully around the room before taking out his wand, "Rumpled bed. Your pants thrown and not folded. New shirt on you. New trainers in the corridor. You are drunk."

Bill looked at Fleur suspiciously as he raised his wand and intoned Homenum Revelio. Bill gave of a growl as he went towards the cupboard doors. Harry backtracked and stepped on something sharp. Yelping, he forcefully pressed himself against the cupboard door.

'BOOM!'

The cupboard door flew off it's hinges and knocked out Bill Weasley cold as Harry fell down to the floor in a similar fashion. He scampered off towards Bill checking for a pulse. Saved by accidental magic – a bloody miracle worker.

"He's alive," he muttered towards a worried Fleur that was already dotting on the crumpled form of her fiancée.

At least Bill hadn't seen him. He honestly expected Fleur to send him out this instant. She had brought a wet cloth to clean his forehead and was doting on him like a worried mother, "'Arry can you please dress and wait outside?"

There it was. Now Fleur would hate him forever. Great going Potter. He ran a hand through his messy and unkept hair. He nodded breathlessly, still focusing on Bill – wondering on a scale of one to ten how likely it was that Bill would murder him when he woke up under the cupboard door.

He waited outside for what seemed like hours before Fleur left the apartment, "Lets get going."

"What's up with Bill," he asked, shoulders tensed.

"He," Fleur started descending the stairs, "Found out that I am going to be visiting my parents for the next two weeks and while he was dressing, the cupboard door broke and fell on him."

"You obliviated him?" he asked with wide-eyes.

"Confounded him. I love Bill," she said, looking at him, "But if I don't keep my eyes on you then Wizarding Britain would be doomed and I won't be able to live with myself. Bill... he won't understand. You have told no one?"

"No."

She nodded. "I don't know if that is a good or a bad thing. If you don't tell anyone else then I need to look after you even more closely because people won't even suspect what you are doing to yourself. Then again, if you actually told everyone, they would stick you in a room and keep you there until you would actually end yourself to escape it," she looked disturbed at the possibility.

"I am not going to end myself," he said in what he hoped to be a reassuring tone.

She gave him a disbelieving look that told him just how much she believed what he had said.

"No seriously. I –"

His foot stepped into empty air and he crashed downwards, his jaw feeling like it had been hit with a hammer handled by an Olympic weight-lifter. So much for that statement.

"'Arry! Ugh – why do you men get injured all around me!"

He gave a snort, "Maybe cause you're a trouble magnet?"

Fleur gave him an unimpressed look before helping to lift him back up.

She then properly looked at his face and moved her thumb across his forehead, "You're bleeding."

"Not the first time."

"'Arry," she scolded him before she touched his hand and apparated them away.

As soon as they arrived wherever they needed to be at, he leaned on her, head fuzzy. Fleur had brought him into some kind of expensive villa in the middle of the countryside. Rolling hills surrounded the place and the sun glared onto his skin, boiling it by just its mere presence on this cloudless day.

"Where are we?" he gestured to the building in front of him with his off-hand while stumbling about .

"Welcome 'Arry to the Delacour Vacation Home in Southern France."

They where in France!

He stumbled around trying to see everything surrounding him but Fleur was having none of it. She brought him further into the luxurious building after entering pass-codes and using at least three different keys, deposited him off on the couch and went off in search of a healing salve or at least that is what she had muttered under her breath.

He just basked in the warmth. Hogwarts wasn't exactly a bastion of it what with the snow and rain and hard blocks of ice that found themselves at home in the corridors whenever somebody forgot to close a window. One day Neville had decided he had needed a bit of a breather in their dormitory at three in the morning... it didn't end well.

Fleur waltzed back with some kind of container in tow and started applying the thick cream to his forehead. He grabbed onto the couch.

The world was a bit woozy but that had to be a side-effect of the medicine – nothing could stand up to Skelegrow. Despite himself, he closed his eyes for some time, not willing to sleep before he had thanked Fleur for saving him – again.

He hadn't meant to eavesdrop – honest. He could hear Fleur's phone ringing as she sat on the couch with him, assured that he was asleep.

He could hear Fleur's voice starting to revert to French as she talked on the phone with another mildly familiar female tone answering her back. He only made out one word, 'Gabrielle'.

Fleur was chatting with Gabrielle. About what? Then he remembered that Fleur had mentioned going to her family for two weeks. He silently gulped.

He had only seen Fleur's parents once before and the memory was fuzzy. Surely they wouldn't think that he and Fleur were a thing? Where were these thoughts coming from anyways? Fleur was engaged to Bill Weasley. End of Story Harry. That ship had sailed.

Thing was, he had never seen a ship before in his life. Or the sea. Or even a river if the abomination that was the Thames was excluded from the equation. This was what made rational arguments with oneself very fruitless.

"'Arry?"

"Hmm," he answered before mentally face-palming. He was supposed to be sleeping!

"Do you mind if we go see my parents? We'll probably have to go on a picnic as well for Gabrielle's birthday and maybe shop for some new clothes. Hmm?"

"Yeah, sure. No problem," he mentally strangled himself to death. Of all the times to act like a good friend.

Fleur went back to speaking in French, saying something that sounded oddly like, 'He's coming too'. He heard giggles on the other end of the line. Gabrielle giggled?

Fleur finally stopped speaking with Gabrielle and turned to him and continued to rub the salve in.

"Well done 'Arry Potter. You are now my entourage for the two weeks that we will be staying with my family. Don't give me that look. At least I didn't make you my boyfriend or something as silly as that. You will clean, cook and generally do what is to be expected of a house elf. You do need to atone for your sins don't you? ," she gave him a sassy wink before bringing out a box of medicine and handing him over some pills.

He could only stare open-mouthed in astonishment. What had he gotten himself into? After another daring escape ending with emotional upheaval, how did the one time that he decided to be playful because he was being made fun of and he was tipsy turn into... into this?

He got it – it was a cover to not incite suspicion while Fleur was tryingto stop him from considering suicide. But he doubted having Harry Potter as a house elf would not garner suspicion. In fact it would undoubtedly be the other way round.

His life was such a mess.

He drank the pills Fleur gave him. He didn't notice the difference until a few moments later, while Fleur was talking of going to see some art gallery.

His head started feeling woozy again. This time he thought it beat out even Skelegrow as unlikely as that was. Animated animals in the pictures hanging on the walls began to walk out of their frames and a particular white peacock even smashed her tail in his nose making him sneeze quite suddenly.

"... I hope it's not an allergic reaction..."

He yelped in pain as his hands automatically moved to his burning scar. Hot, white dazzling pain spread out from there and thundered across his entire forehead as somebody screamed. A man in a dark cloak. A vile monster that lived in his shadow, tracing his every move. The Dark Lord was screaming his ass off and he himself was falling down under.

"... Harry? Harry!"

He needed to lie down for a little while.

"Harry!"