Revised: 7/8/2019
Harry couldn't help the grin plastered across his face as he dressed and brushed his teeth the next morning, once again having risen before the sun.
The previous day had turned out to be much more exceptional than he had been expecting. What had started as a routine trip into Diagon Alley had not only reunited him with the witch that was slowly becoming his closest confident, but had also led him to a far superior location to study and practice magic. The extra time he'd be able to spend around Fleur was simply a bonus of course…
Harry padded through a silent house with an extra spring in his step, intending to finish his chores even earlier today in order to make it to the Cauldron in time.
Having already cleaned the majority of the house the previous morning, Harry lightly dusted the shelves of knickknacks and pictures of the three 'normal' residents of Number four and started on the Dursley's breakfast; attempting to weed the garden in the dark would be pointless after all, it could wait until he'd finished cooking their meal.
Harry had just finished plating the last of the meal when his attention was grabbed by a sharp tapping on the window. Glancing at the source of noise, he was unsurprised to see a plain grey owl that he recognized as belonging to Hogwarts, seeking entry to his home. Thanking his lucky stars that the Dursleys had yet to wake up to encounter the uninvited guest, Harry padded over to the window to let the bird in, sneaking it, as well as himself a piece of bacon from the sizzling skillet. Harry took the letter attached to its leg and opened it reading the contents:
Mr. Potter,
Though it pains me suggest this, it truly remains in your best interest to stay within the immediate area of Number four Privet Drive. You of all people are aware of the trying times in which we currently reside and I suggest you remain where you are protected for your own safety.
-Albus P. W. B. Dumbledore
What? No: 'how are you, Harry' or 'Sorry we let you get kidnapped again, Harry?'
He frowned down at Dumbledore's particularly impersonal letter, so different in tone from the mentor-like figure he'd known the last four years.
Was this vague order to stay put the only update he would be given by the man? What happened to all the trust the Headmaster had spouted about towards the end of last term? What could have happened in the last few days that had change his opinion so severely?
But that wasn't the only issue here… With a flash of irritation, Harry realized that he was being monitored in some way. He cursed his own ignorance of tracking magic, knowing that such a thing was possible with certain wards and enchantments. In hindsight, going to the alley without some sort of glamour wasn't the most intelligent of decisions. Despite his own safety being the justification for the headmaster's meddling, such an invasion of privacy without his permission only lowered his opinion of the Headmaster even further. The nature of the wards surrounding the Dursley's home had always been ambiguous, and the more Harry pondered such a topic the more they appeared to conveniently fit the Headmaster's wishes.
It was time for this farce to end…
He flipped the parchment over and began to pen an equally informal response on the back.
Headmaster Dumbledore,
I appreciate your worry for my safety in these harrowing times and will take your suggestions into consideration. By your word of mouth the protections surrounding my home require me to spend the first month or so of the summer under the Dursley's roof, and for the time being I intend to do so. This is purely out of respect for your wishes, Headmaster, as you know the opinion my relatives have of me, an opinion I assure you is reciprocated entirely. Other than the requirements you have set for the safety of my relatives, how I spend my time is none of your business. I assure you I will be diligent during the rest of my holiday.
Yours truly,
Harry Potter
Harry read over what he had written, deeming it polite enough to be sent yet still remaining true to his original plans. Harry had no doubt that he had enough evidence at this point to be emancipated on the basis of his guardians being unfit to care for him. The headmaster didn't actually have any authority over him outside of Hogwarts after all. Pushing for Harry to be handed over to the Dursley family would have been easy enough considering Sirius' incarceration and their direct relation to the young wizard. With Dumbledore's many titles it must have been trivial to throw his weight around to achieve the desired result in a time of war.
Harry had the legal grounds to push for emancipation, and under normal conditions such an appeal would be a simple matter, but considering his current reputation with the ministry his chances of success were close to nil. Taking that path would also cause more backlash for Dumbledore, Harry was hesitant to do so and risk alienating such a powerful ally in the coming months. Despite Dumbledore's cold attitude, it was still important to present a united front to the masses, informing the public of the Dark Lord's return was the most crucial step to resisting his efforts for takeover.
He tied his letter to the owl's leg and sent it off, striding out the back door, resigned to the hours of labor he still had ahead of him.
oooOoOoOooo
Albus Dumbledore was tired. No, that wasn't quite accurate, he was exhausted.
The accumulation of his many titles and responsibilities had allowed him to guide the future of the Wizarding world as best he could. In times of peace he felt quite able to juggle the many responsibilities demanded of him from the public and in the years following the first fall of Lord Voldemort he had done a fairly good job of it. He had made mistakes of course, after all, he was only human. To claim perfection would be blasphemous, though he had accumulated great wisdom in his hundred-odd years of living if he did say so himself.
However, currently, the wizarding world was not in a time of peace, and between convincing the powers that be that the Dark Lord had indeed returned, gathering his own allies, and juggling his many responsibilities he found himself stretched thin once again.
Presently, the man of many names was enjoying the few minutes respite he could find in the day to himself, amusing himself with a kinetic desk toy, one of many muggle contraptions that littered his office.
He smiled in fascination. What wonderous inventions those without magic could come up with. As he tinkered with the swinging metal parts, a grey owl he recognized as the one carrying his message to Harry, swooped into the room and alighted upon his desk. Opening the offered letter, he sighed as he read the young man's response.
"An expected response m'boy, though not one that completely satisfies me I'm afraid," he sighed to the owl. The wizened man found the wise creatures to be acceptable conversationalists when his first option: Fawkes, was otherwise engaged. Neither the owls nor his companion ever did respond persay, but they were the best of listeners.
He rose, gazing over the sprawling Hogwarts grounds visible from his office window as he considered his constantly amended plans for the boy. "I only hope he can find it in heart to forgive an old man for asking so much of one so young."
oooOoOoOooo
Once again Harry found himself in transit to the Leaky Cauldron after Vernon had left for work. Harry stepped off the triple decker bus onto the busy London street and paced towards the entrance to the dingy pub. He squinted briefly, his eyes still adjusting to the dimply lit room before he peered at each booth searching for his friend.
Even if Harry wasn't already so attuned to Fleur's magical aura, who, as a veela, possessed an even more conspicuous presence than a normal witch or wizard, it was a simple matter to follow the unsubtle glances of the other patrons leading to the statuesque blonde perched on her seat, finishing off a cup of tea.
"Hello, Fleur, have a good morning so far?" Harry greeted quietly, not wanting to draw attention to himself as he smiled his first genuine smile of the day.
"'Arry!" he wondered how his simple presence could make her so happy, "aside from 'ze 'ole room ogling me for 'ze last twenty minutes, it 'as indeed been an enjoyable morning." She answered with a sardonic role of her eyes. "Yourself?"
"Unfortunately can't say the same, Fleur, chores all morning. But my day is definitely looking up." He gave a pointed look at her attire, "It's no wonder half the guys in this place can't keep their eyes off of you."
The witch's navy blue cardigan draped around her light blue blouse did nothing to hide her graceful curves, and the off-white skirt that ended a bit above the knees showed off her fantastic legs,
She smiled graciously at the not so subtle compliment and rose. "Shall we go, 'zen? 'Ze tea is good but one 'zing I do miss about France is 'ze coffee." She said with a wistful sigh. Harry nodded and joined her as they entered the alleyway.
The previous afternoon, Harry had planned to shop for a couple pairs of trousers and shirts to relax and study in having long since grown tired of wearing Dudley's cast offs. Fleur had insisted on accompanying him on the trip citing the fact that she really had nothing better to do. Harry'd made a token effort when protesting, but they both knew that any extra time spent together could only be a good thing.
After searching Diagon for a while, the pair found a shop off the main alley that would suit their needs as it was owned by a young half-blood couple and carried a mix of muggle clothing and wizarding robes.
Harry had intended to only purchase a couple things upon entering the shop, but both he and Fleur agreed that some of the shorter shawl collared robes styled after muggle trends were both more practical to move around in, and much more aesthetically pleasing as well. Fleur in particular had been quite generous with her compliments, claiming how impressive a figure Harry cut in the different style.
He'd never been so blatantly eyed before, but as Fleur's gaze followed the young wizard as she shuffled him in and out of the dressing rooms to try on different colors and styles, he couldn't help but be flattered. The knowing grin of the shop owner behind the counter went unnoticed to the pair.
In addition to a set of grey, black, and burgundy knee length robes, Harry tried on several pairs of slacks and button-up shirts to match the robes as well as a couple pairs of cotton shorts and t-shirts just to relax in. Despite being extremely close to the young witch, Harry still found it a bit embarrassing to be buying underwear in front of her, something she took unrepentant joy in teasing him about.
"Didn't know you prefered boxers over briefs 'Arry, care to model these as well?" she breathed with lidded eyes. The resulting blush was clearly the reaction she was hoping for, but Harry couldn't quite find it in himself to be upset. It wasn't every day he got to witness such a carefree look on his friend's face.
Realizing she was having him on, he snarked back at the beautiful witch, "Very funny Fleur, you're not the one being paraded around like some kind of living mannequin." The retort had no real heat.
"Is 'zat so? Per'aps I need to do some modeling of my own 'zen?" before Harry could answer she pranced off into the racks of clothes only to return entering the dressing rooms with a pile of her own. Harry was intrigued.
When the beautiful blonde appeared once again Harry's jaw nearly hit the floor. "What do you 'zink 'Arry?" Fleur queried, twirling gracefully.
The positively devilish way those jeans hugged her ass was Harry's immediate thought; one he did not voice. Coughing lightly to regain his composure, he chose the safer reply of, "You obviously look fantastic in anything Fleur, but ah… you should definitely get those if you want them, my treat of course." Fleur's only answer was a seductive wink and to saunter back into the changing room, once more giving him the perfect view of her heart-shaped backside, epitomized even more by the dark blue jeans that looked practically painted on.
By the end of their trip Harry's opinion of clothes shopping had risen several notches, at least in present company, and was looking forward to seeing some of Fleur's outfits as much as he was to finally having new clothes in his own size to wear. He wore a faded pair of jeans and a black collared shirt out of the store, restraining himself from incinerating his cousin's castoffs on the spot, choosing the much more responsible option of tossing them in the dumpster behind the shop.
"Shall we 'ead to my apartment, 'Arry? You did say you were going to study a bit today; our summer can't be all fun and games after all." Fleur said with a gentle smile.
At Harry's confirmation, the pair headed back to Diagon Alley. Fleur lead him down an unfamiliar cross-street which they followed for a couple minutes before turning onto a path that led up to an apartment complex wedged between the properties on either side. The simple grey multistory building looked far too narrow to house anything habitable but Harry had long since learned to not trust his eyes when it came to space in magical households.
"Let me key you to 'ze wards so you can come even if I'm not 'ere, after all, I will sometimes be at Gringotts in 'ze afternoons." The young witch raised her wand and closed her eyes, concentrating on an unseen force. After a moment Harry felt some of the ambient magic settle around him signaling what he assumed was his acceptance into the ward scheme. He smiled in thanks and crossed the threshold.
Fleur's apartment was sparse, as one would suspect from someone who had recently changed residence, yet he already felt more welcome in the spacious room than he ever had in his own 'home.' "Fleur, I know I've already thanked you but you really have no idea how much it means to me that you're opening your space up for me." The genuine emotion in Harry's voice brought a smile to Fleur's face.
She strolled over, giving him a light peck on the cheek. "And like I said before, it is my pleasure to 'ave you 'ere, 'Arry." Harry simply shot her a crooked grin and nodded before taking out his trunk and unshrinking it while Fleur flicked her wand, causing her own purchases to arrange themselves in her closet. Despite being a one room flat, as with more high-end wizarding homes it had the living space of a fully furnished two-bedroom house, with a fully stocked kitchen and luxurious bathroom.
Harry, remembering the chaotic skirmish with Barty Crouch Jr. in his defense classroom removed several texts on transfiguration from his trunk, intent on touching up his theory before diving right into incorporating battle transfiguration into his magic arsenal. He briefly leafed through the books he had on the subject, deciding to review the baseline theory for next year's transfiguration class, having already reviewed the fourth year text at the end of last term. If he remembered correctly, this year they would be learning larger inanimate to animate transfiguration, most likely purposefully taught alongside simple animation charms in Flitwick's OWL level course. These two skills were the basis for using transfiguration both as a distraction as well as an offensive tool in combat.
With a plan of attack decided, he cracked open the fifth year text and settled on the couch diving right in, the sound of Fleur rummaging around her flat a much more welcome ambient noise than the beligerant shouts of the Dursleys.
oooOoOoOooo
This was Harry's routine for the next several days, rising before the sun, worked like a slave by his 'family' for hours before finally making his way to Fleur to spend the day together, either enjoying themselves exploring the various points of interest of magical London, or increasing his skill in magic.
The sheer amount of hidden cafés and local restaurants they found off the beaten path of Diagon Alley's main street was staggering, and was as much a new experience for Harry who had spent most of his life lacking any real recreation, as it was for Fleur who was new to the country, and unfamiliar with what it had to offer. During this time, the pair found themselves getting closer as friends and perhaps even more, as they several shared intimate embraces and chaste kisses possibly indicated, yet neither had made a definitive attempt at taking their relationship to another level.
Currently, Harry sat hunched over a work desk situated in the center of Fleur's flat, wand raised with jade-green eyes boring into a short wooden rod being levitated above the surface of the table.
With a signal known only to the young wizard his eyes briefly closed before snapping open again, a tendril of unseen magic altered the molecular structure of the wood according to his visualized product. Grainy textured brown gained a metallic sheen as the ends narrowed down to a wicked point, leaving behind a flawless steel dart, nearly a foot long, hovering in the same location. The whole process had taken less than two seconds, a personal best for the young wizard made evident by the satisfied smirk adorning his face.
It had been nearly a week since Harry had first started training in Fleur's spacious apartment. Time that had obviously not been wasted. Transfiguration as a subject was traditionally favored by more scientifically-minded individuals, however, Harry's sheer magical power and detailed imagination allowed the prodigious wizard to perform transformations that would normally be out of his grasp.
Creating steel darts from a material of a similar size and shape as he had seconds before, served as a relatively simple excersise for the young wizard. However, his true goal was more practical in nature.
The darts served as excellent projectiles.
In order to practically use them in combat, however, reducing the time the transformation took was of the highest importance. Harry had spent countless hours in the last week drilling various transformations, trying to reduce the cast time. In that endeavor he was very successful.
Harry had briefly explored the theory of more complex transfigurations to create sentient beasts. It was a branch of magic favored by many specialist in that field considering they could be commanded to attack or defend oneself in a duel, however in addition to being a bit beyond his skill, he found it did not fit his style as much as smaller scale transformations on objects to be used as projectiles.
Conjuration, a title that was somewhat misleading in the first place, implied creating something out of nothing, which so far has been impossible, even for magic. What the skill actually put into practice is the transfiguration of air into whatever object the wizard was trying to create.
What made the skill particularly difficult for the majority of wizards was the fact that the output required to turn gaseous matter into a solid was often beyond the average student was capable of. For those that managed to excel in transfiguration by supplementing proper imagination and intent for magical power, the lack a basic understanding of chemistry and the basics of matter most often led to failure.
Harry, who both possessed above-average levels of magical power for his age and who'd been supplementing his Transfiguration texts with basic muggle chemistry texts, understood the materials he was working with on a fundamental level. It was no wonder that he'd had greater success in his practical application of the magic.
Conjuration of more precious metals like silver or gold was still beyond him, however, organic materials like the wooden rods he began the entire process with were not. After much practice, he could now conjure several at once, free to transfigure and banish at will.
Harry flopped onto Fleur's couch with a huff. He had been studying and practicing for the greater part of the day, and Fleur was due to be back from Gringotts within the hour. The young witch had begun her work at the appraisal offices a couple days previously, so he did not have as much time with her as he would have liked. They'd at least have dinner together when she got back from work, a time which he cherished. Though he was making strides with his magical ability, the early mornings and commute were taking their toll, leaving Harry exhausted by the end of each day. He was beginning to worry that he couldn't keep up such a schedule for the entire summer.
Harry was hesitant to relax his ambitious schedule considering the very real danger being unprepared would pose to his life and those he cared for. But at this rate, he'd die from exhaustion before Voldemort even had the chance to off him himself.
The thought however, sparked an idea in his head. It couldn't hurt to try….
"Dobby?"
Pop
"The great and wonderful master Harry Potter has called Dobby!" The diminutive elf cried hysterically, "what can Dobby do for Master Harry Potter sir?" Harry tried not to roll his eyes at the many titles the elf had for him. He was almost reaching Dumbledore levels at this point.
"Dobby, please listen carefully, its very important."
To his relief, the elf ceased his energetic bouncing, bulbous eyes locked onto his savior. "First of all, I know I've told you before but if this is gonna work out you really need to call me Harry, or Master Harry if you prefer."
"Yes Master Harry Sir!"
Harry rolled his eyes. "Close enough. Dobby, are you happy working for Hogwarts or would you prefer to be my personal house elf?" Dobby's eyes widened further, if that was even possible.
"Master Harry wants Dobby?" his reverent tone was making Harry second guess his decision but he soldiered on.
"Yes I do but if you would pref—"
"Dobby accepts," he cried grabbing the young wizard's extended hand. There was no flash of magic or anything else to signify the bond being formed, but Harry gained the unmistakable sense of ownership when he considered his smallest friend.
He wasn't quite sure how he felt about that, but at this point it was really too late to regret his decision. Harry shrugged inwardly.
"Dobby, do you remember the house where we first met? The one with my relatives living in it." Harry asked the excitable house elf.
Dobby nodded sheepishly, remembering the repercussions of his actions of that first night. "Dobby remembers, sir." Predicting his actions before he could take them, Harry snatched at the collar of the elf's oversized sweater before he could slam into the wall in self-flagellation.
Harry amended his first statement, "Actually your real first order, is you are never to punish yourself, if feel you've made a mistake come to me and we'll talk about it." The sound of a closing door had indicated Fleur's return, but she made no move to interrupt, though Dobby's next words did earn a soft giggle from the pretty witch.
"The great Harry Potter truly is a wonderful master! So forgiving and noble!"
"Sure, sure." Harry rolled his eyes for what seemed like the tenth time in the last minute. "Now every night there will be a piece of paper posted to the door of the refrigerator with a list of chores for me to do—"
"The bad family make the Great and noble Harry Potter do elf work!?" Dobby's horrorstruck look would have been comical if not for the situation. "Say no more, Master Harry Potter Sir! Dobby do!"
"That's wonderful, Dobby, but it's important that you never be seen. If you are, I'll worry for your safety and mine as well. If you could do the chores on the list at night and have breakfast ready before they all get up it would save me a lot of trouble. Any time after that you can do as you wish unless I call you for something specifically, ok?"
Dobby nodded vigorously, "Can Dobby clean Harry Potter Sir's Flower's apartment on Dobby's free time?" He glanced over at Fleur who by this point had draped her arms intimately over Harry's shoulders. Dobby's name for Fleur earned a slight blush from the witch, but she did not relinquish her perch.
"If that's want you want, Dobby, and if it's ok with Fleur of course." Harry amended. She nodded with a soft smile, and Dobby popped away with a grin and a snap of his fingers.
"Who was your friend, Oh great Master 'Arry Potter Sir?" she purred in his ear. He could feel her lips curve into a grin at his obvious reaction, frankly, Harry found he didn't mind the form of address so much coming from his beautiful friend. He nudged her away playfully before answering with a laugh.
"Shush, you! Dobby's always been a bit fanatical, but I did save him from having to serve the Malfoy family at the end of my second year. Though he had been trying to save my life himself during that same year." He said. "Nearly ended up killing me a couple times too, now that think about it."
Fleur's nose had wrinkled a bit at the mention of the blonde boy, but her eyes widened a bit, hearing the last bit of Harry defending his friend. "Killing you? I'm sure 'zere's a story 'zere somewhere non?"
Harry paused for a moment, lost in thought as he recalled his eventful second year at Hogwarts. "Well, Isuppose it all started the summer before second year…."
oooOoOoOooo
Harry's recounting of his second year in detail was both thrilling and terrifying for Fleur, the amount of deadly situations he had been in by the time he was twelve years old put some wizards twice his age to shame.
By the time he had finished they had shifted on the couch so she was snuggled into his side, her soft curves molded to the harder planes of his body. While Fleur appeared quite content with their position, Harry was on cloud nine, wondering what he had done to earn the trust of this wonderful woman. His arm, wrapped around her slender shoulders pulled the beautiful witch even closer and rested his chin on top of her head, simply reveling in the moment.
"Fleur, you've become my closest friend in these last few weeks and we have kissed a couple of times, but I know the French can be a bit more uh, affectionate than I'm used to bu-"
Fleur interrupted him with a slender index finger covering his lips before he could begin rambling too much.
"Breathe, 'Arry, what is it you're trying to say." She questioned quietly.
"It's just… I have feelings for you Fleur… I mean, how could I not? You're amazing, so intelligent, you've taught me so much, and you're practically the most beautiful girl I've ever met. Will you… be my girlfriend Fleur?" He finished shyly.
"Oui," came her simple response, and the spark that had always been there between them became a thunderstorm. Her head tilted up and they paused briefly, cerulean blue eyes meeting smoldering jade green, before their lips met once more.
This kiss was nothing like the previous playful pecks shared between the pair.
It was hungry and wanting, the culmination of several weeks of romantic tension. Fleur's tongue teased his lips and with a small gasp Harry allowed her entry as her tongue slowly caressed his own. Harry's heart pounded in his chest as he hoped the moment would never end, reclined on the couch with a gorgeous French veela perched on his lap kissing the life out of him.
He wrapped an arm gently around her waist, teasing a finger at the small of her back as she languidly continued making out with him, soft mews of appreciation making her pleasure obvious. Soon their passion waned and Fleur was left peppering his lips with featherlight pecks trailing down his jawline before once again burrowing into his neck content to just drink in his presence as he held her.
"That was… wow." Harry was at a loss for words as he felt his girlfriend smirk into his neck.
"I took your breath away non?" she murmured into his neck.
"You could say that."
She giggled, "You are a natural 'Arry, and it seems like 'zis little guy enjoyed it as well," she teased, brushing the obvious bulge in his trousers with the fingertips of a dainty hand.
"Little?!" Harry squawked indignantly earning a peal of laughter from Fleur.
"Kidding, of course, per'aps anozzer time 'zen? 'zat eez moving a bit fast non?" She added with a wink.
"I agree, wouldn't want you to think I was cheap," Harry joked, getting over his embarrassment, "though I wouldn't be opposed to another snog any time you want." He added.
"Ew, non, 'Arry, 'zat word, snog…eet sounds so vulgar," Fleur corrected, crinkling her nose in distaste, "non, you will kiss me, not 'zat ozzer word"
Harry snorted at her unwillingness to say 'snog' a second time but didn't voice his thoughts, "Oh no! I guess I'll just have to settle for kissing my beautiful girlfriend instead. The sacrifices I make," he sighed in mock exasperation, pecking Fleur on the lips taking the heat out of his teasing. He rose unwillingly from the couch.
"It's about time for me to head back to the Dursley's anyway," he said, noting the time; this time his dejection was genuine. "Mind if I borrow your shower?"
"Of course not 'Arry."
His muffled voice continued from behind the door, "There's a book I found referenced several times in the Hogwarts library and I wanted to see if they have a copy somewhere in Knockturn alley; with Dobby taking care of my chores I'll probably have a lie in and get a later start to my day so don't be worried if I'm not here by the time you get back from work ok?"
She frowned momentarily, seeming to come to a decision, "Ok, just be careful 'Arry, can't 'ave my boyfriend getting 'imself 'urt so soon now can I?" She called over the sound of the falling water.
