Clinical Week 1 (B-Day Plus 5)

Fleur and Molly had come to call, just on elevenses. Malfoy, thank Merlin, was out of the house safely elsewhere, and occupied. Harry was under the impression he was meeting with his man of business over some capital investments they'd needed to settle; the details were fuzzy when murmured softly in his ear after Malfoy had sucked him off this morning under the breakfast table. Most details were, at this point.

The majority of Harry's attention was focused on just the one thing: Malfoy.

"Well, you look alright, Harry," Molly remarked, setting down her cup with an air of business to be gotten on with, right smart. "Healthy. Happy. Erm...satisfied."

Fleur, had she the full blood Veela's pointy ears, would've perked them inquisitively at Harry. Instead, she only sat up straighter in her seat across from him, the very picture of the demure daughter-in-law. She had a very odd expression on her face, though: one part carefully but not completely concealed disgust, one part avid curiosity and two parts concern. For a married lady and the mother of one quite rambunctious little girl, she was just as lovely as she'd ever been, and still as compellingly beautiful as Harry remembered her from the wedding, but time, the aftermath of the war and motherhood had taken their due, nonetheless. That brilliant 'come hither' air she and all the Beauxbatons girls had carried about with them like bright banners so long ago had been burnished into something much more steely in nature, Harry thought. There was an indefinable, ineffable likeness to Molly Weasley; a sort of 'I am Woman! I am Mum!' that overlaid the lambent 'I am Veela!'

For a spare blip of a moment, he wondered if Malfoy would bear that same look to him, years down the road: 'I am Man, I am Husband!' and if hewould, as well. Like crups and their owners, growing to resemble one another as they kept each other in care. If so, he'd likely be forced to practice that one particular Malfoy down-the-nose stare the git had perfected to truly fit in with the remainder of the uppity lot of them. And likely, too, learn to carry about a leather-bound Quik Quills notebook regularly, to keep track of his many important appointments.

Harry wasn't, for all he was an Auror and good one, all that skilled in reading the emotions of his trusted few. He rather took them for granted, and relished that he could. There was nothing like knowing a person would die for one's sake - willingly - to leave one feeling oddly reassured. Molly and Fleur were family, and Fleur was as much Harry's sister-in-law as Ron was Harry's brother. And Molly was...Molly was Harry's very overprotective 'other' Mum. Of course they'd come, then.

He sighed.

Families were the very arse-aches at times, being nosy. He was in for it and Molly likely wouldn't budge till she was satisfied all was right and tight, no matter how fond she and Arthur were of Malfoy these days.

"I am," Harry replied, flushing. "Maybe a bit, er - "

"Overwhelmed, 'Arry?" Fleur wanted to know, her accent a faint, pleasant buzz to her light voice. "That iz natural, of courze."

"Is it? Oh." Harry was certain there were reams more to that innocuous comment than appeared. And he? He was piqued by Fleur's apparent interest in Malfoy, but then his interest in Malfoy was always burbling away inside him, a pot come to perpetual simmer. The man bloody well fascinated him, and on levels he'd not even conceived of previously. "And that means...what, exactly? Is it something to do with the Veela, Fleur?"

He ditched his teacup entirely, the better to pay attention. Here was a real live Veela, come to call, and one he trusted implicitly. Mayhap Fleur could shed some light on his and Malfoy's somewhat precipitous proceedings. He could use the help, absolutely. Fascination didn't equate to knowledge, necessarily.

"Well, it iz," Fleur set her cup down as well, and Molly nodded. "He iz exerting ze Allure most particularly on your zenzes, 'Arry. He doez not wish you to escape, az it were. You are important to 'im."

"Harry, he is taking good care of you, isn't he?" Molly interrupted. She frowned quellingly at him and Harry instantly felt somewhat guilty for causing her a moment's worry. "Draco is? I know he's quite reformed - a model citizen these days and the dearest of boys, really, under all those silly manners - but, Harry! It's very odd to me that it should be you two, of all people, given how you were, once. Friends I can understand, even mates like you and Ronald, but this!" She shook her head, fretfully. "Seems strange…"

"But no, Maman, it iz not at a'tall strange!" Fleur raised her pretty chin and glared at her mother-in-law. "It iz more than comprehenzible, this. I am only zurprized 'e haz not taken 'iz steps long since to Bond with you, 'Arry. Ah!" Her exquisite face brightened as a thought stuck her. "There waz some sort of Supprezzant Potion he waz given, az I understand it?"

Harry nodded, casually smoothing out his robes. Here was a question that always niggled away at his mind, raising yet more questions along the way.

"Yes, actually. Snape - er, Professor Snape gave it to him, all through Sixth and after, too." Harry reflected for a quick second, recalling what he'd been told by Malfoy and Poppy. "No, um, for longer than that, actually. Onset of puberty and up until the end of that years's April, or so Snape said, so from maybe age thirteen or so until just before the last battle with Voldemort, I think. Years, it was. And then Madame D'Argent, the Veela Leader, also mentioned to us these staggered maturational cycles Veela have and - and then there's some special trait called 'conjunctive superannuated timing', which is a typical male Veela behaviour, apparently, and which is why it wasn't 'til really recently he - well, he caught on it was me he was, erm...wanting. Or…at least that's what Madame Pomfrey's theorizing these days, though I'm not sure I buy it. Nor have all the details straight, either, sorry. I know Malfoy's being the Seventh Son figures in, too, in some way—Pomfrey said—but...it's complicated. Very."

"Very!" Molly repeated, snorting and tossing her head. "Need a map to keep all that in order, Harry, I don't doubt! Or perhaps a chart—like the Order used, remember?"

Harry laughed. "Poppy Pomfrey's enough medical charts for us already, believe me, and I'm sure there's probably a whole lot she's conjured up just for Malfoy alone. He's a bit of a freak, it seems, even just himself, eh? The Seventh Son, last scion, ancient Blood thing he's got going...but, yes. It's been a real puzzler, actually, why his Veela instinct was that long delayed."

"Hmmm," Fleur looked askance at Harry, as if she doubted in the reliability of any Healer's expertise as compared to the natural abilities of a Veela, even a sport like Malfoy. "I, for one, do not believe even the most powerful Confundum could have that effect, 'Arry, much less a mere Potion, but then the boy iz only partly Veela. Perhapz...but, only perhapz, it iz so."

"Well," Harry began, fluttering his fingers, "we've really only Snape's portrait's recollections to go on, y'see, and you know how they can be—it's paint on canvas, in the final say. I mean, it's not Snape really—"

"The real point is, Harry." Molly had polished off a second sliver of the lemon curd cake the Elves had provided them (an excellent cake, that, and one of Harry's favourites) while she patiently whiled away Fleur's murmured-aloud mull over the oddity of Malfoy and his peculiar manifestations of Veeladom. Clearly, though, Harry's adoptive Mum was waiting on courtesy no more; she'd her say to say, yet. "The point is, is Draco good for you, dear? Is he minding your needs and wishes, Harry? Because if he's not, then Veela or no, Draco or no, he'll have us to answer to, us Weasleys - well, me, Harry, really! You know how Arthur is, always the forgiving one, heart as big as the sea, but you're as much mine as any of them, Harry, and I'll not sit back and see you mistreated! He's such a kind boy, 'neath it all, but those parents of his - well, I've issues to take up with them, still! Never doubt it!"

"Molly! Molly, it's really alright," Harry hastened to say. "It is!" He shifted uncomfortably, recalling all the ways Malfoy was 'minding' him, these days. His knees trembled, from remembering; his chest ached in a most delightful way. "It is. He's been - he's been more than adequately...caring, Molly. Concerned, over me, always. And kind - thoughtful, too. In fact, you'd think I was the only one in the world for him, the way he carries on over the slightest little-"

"But you are, 'Arry," Fleur interjected, and she had that peculiar little frown on her face again as if she smelt something fishy in the very atmosphere. "You are the one and only for 'im, make no doubt of eet, 'Arry. He iz not looking at anyone elze, not now. 'Ee will never. It iz only so very strange to my mind that he went so long without. I admit I am excessively puzzled by it. It iz not the natural order of the Veela, to know of the exiztenze of one'z true mate for zhoovery long and yet not - "

"He did, actually!" Harry gulped, blushing. "Er, well as soon as he knew it couldn't be helped, Fleur. He'd gone and arranged with Kings and Poppy and Madame when he sorted there was no stopping it; all these details I'd've never thought of, all for me, really; for my sake so I'd feel easier with it. Being him, that is. But, well, yes; we're both puzzled by how long it took to happen, still," Harry admitted. "Malfoy and I. Though Snape's portrait insists it was possible; Madame Pomfrey's already enquired of him any number of times. I only—I still can't accept - and neither does Hermione, for that matter - that any Potion should've kept his Veela bits at bay for what amounted to nearly a full decade, but...it has. It did. No arguing that."

"It may be that he waz not often in your company, 'Arry?"

"No!"

Harry shook his head, emphatically. Brushed his fringe back carelessly when strands tangled into his lashes, as they always did.

"No...no, that's not it either, Fleur. We've been working together for years now at the Ministry and, from what he's said, this just landed on him out of the blue, one day not long ago. I mean, he fought it off for a bit, but…it isa puzzler. A mystery. Even Poppy's completely at a loss as to why it took so long to rear its head, the Veela. And Madame D'Argent's not saying one way or t'other. Don't think she knows either, the old biddy."

Fleur snorted, her eyes sparkling at him, the blue very beautiful indeed when angry.

"We are not ze Thestralz, 'Arry! Not zee Beasts of zee field, either! We are just az much Wizard az you!"

"Oh! Um, no—I didn't mean!" Harry jumped and began to gabble. "Not beasts, Fleur—clearly you're not and he's not—well, ah, sometimes…sometimes he is, but that's differ—"

"Harry," Molly quirked a quizzical brow at Harry's flushed face and deftly changed the subject, "Harry, Bill mentioned once that he was, er, ah, insulated, I s'pose you might call it, from Fleur's Veela Allure, at first. Didn't see it. Really, dDidn't notice her at all for the longest time, not until well after they'd been introduced in passing. And Fleur, you've told me any number of times how it was for you, with, ah, the glow and the scent and all - "

"Eet waz a revelation, Maman, yesss!" Fleur agreed happily, bouncing all at once in her seat like the youngest of schoolgirls. "Eet might be like that, yesss! Theze 'appenings are all at onze, on occazion, ezpecially for the part-Veela. Iwaz not affected by my lovely 'Illiam at all for forever and a day and then, voila! My beautiful 'Illiam waz all I could think of!"

"Fancy," Harry said. "Imagine that." He blinked. Oh, certainly, Fleur was Veela.

She was smiling cheerily her satisfaction at her memories—the moment she and Bill had realized their mutual attraction, most likely-and it was a most beautiful sight, that. Harry felt a vicarious thrill that ran right down to his curling toes. Of course, he was far more susceptible to Veela magic of any sort, these days...but he couldn't help but shudder a bit, too, anxiety rife amidst the pleasure. Malfoy's reaction to him noticing anyone other than Malfoy would likely be...dire, if he were aware.

Hopefully he wasn't; hopefully Malfoy was safely stowed with his goblin-of-business, yet, and nowhere about.

"Ah…anyway..."

"'Arry?" Fleur cocked her pretty chin at him.

"Dear?" And Molly her slight wattle, enquiringly.

Harry most particularly didn't wish him to be. Jealous, that was. As there was no need for it, not at all. Malfoy was ragged enough these days; he always looked sickly and wan, no matter how much sleep they got or how much fine Elf-made food Harry stuffed down his elegant craw. He needed not to be concerned unduly over something as inconsequential as Harry's family coming to tea.

"Um!" he added urgently, suddenly in a massive hurry to shove his adoptive mum and sister-in-law right through the Floo. It wasn't what he wanted to have happen, really; he'd have liked some time to chat with them both but Malfoy might be returning any moment, and...who knew? Harry squirmed, the sense of impending doom growing with every second. He knew. Poor git! Harry should do everything he could to spare him that. "Mum Weasley, Fleur—I really should be revising that last set of instructions the Leader gave Pomfrey. She had it Owled over this morning, that last incantation, and we've only a few days left before we - ah, before we do it. So…ah, if you wouldn't mind?"

He nodded meaningfully toward the hearth, hoping he'd not set off a flurry of Mum Weasley's fussing—nor accidently poked at Fleur's Veela pride.

"'Arry." Fleur, however, instantly rose in a swish of pale blue that became her colouring delightfully and took Molly along with, by dint of a soft hand subtly slipped beneath the elder woman's elbow. "We understand, 'Arry. Malfoy will be scenting us out, az a 'ound doez ol' Reynard, and 'ee will not like eet. But...'Arry?"

"Yes?" Harry was on his feet as well, hastily, and taking a sideways step to wordlessly usher them out all the quicker. His nape had begun to prickle uncomfortably; the back of his throat was dried out. Malfoy was most definitely back in the vicinity, if not already striding through the Manor proper, and he wanted no part of explaining to his Veela why there was a beautiful woman - a gorgeous, married, also-Veela woman – standing not three feet away from him. Malfoy would flip first and only maybe ask questions later. "You were saying, Fleur?"

"'Ee iz deep in, 'Arry, your Malfoy. There iz no hope for 'im now. Be kind, yes? Even if you are not where 'ee iz in your 'eart of 'earts, you must think of 'im now; 'izneedz are life or- "

"I...I rather think it's alright, Fleur," Harry babbled, even more anxious to send them on their way. "I wouldn't hurt him—not for anything, believe me! And Molly - Mum Weasley, I do, really. I'm good with this, I am. He's not half bad, not when you know him. A little stick-up-the-arse, but...I quite like him."

"Well, good-oh, Harry!" Molly pronounced, absentmindedly shaking off her daughter-in-law's iron grip. "That's a start and too, we all can't have those grand love affairs they blather on about over the wireless. Just do be careful, Harry. We fret over you, all alone here with that poor, dear boy. We fret over him, too, but you—you are just so-"

"I'm alright, Molly," Harry smiled. "And he's hardly a boy; I mean, not any more than I am. Sure, it took some getting used to at first, but I really think it'll work out. I can see it, now. Spending my life with him. It's not so bad a prospect."

"Ah! Brilliant, 'Arry...but I will not kizz you, all the zame," Fleur smiled, taking up a handful of Floo powder, "as 'ee will not like eet. But alwayz remember, we are but a Firecall away if you 'ave the need for uz."

"Thanks, Fleur. Thanks, Mum Weasley. That's - well, that's really very...kind," Harry blinked, his lashes a bit moist. He knew - as well as Fleur likely did - exactly what potentially horrendous reaction the people who cared for him were risking, coming within leagues of a shortly-to-be-Mated Veela's chosen one. "You—both—um, thanks."

They smiled at him, kindly, even as it pinged at his long-term recollection, that. The jealousy—the sense of Malfoy always, always hovering about him, chasing off anyone who might harm or bother Harry. Rather similar to the situation he'd been in with Voldemort after his arse, murder in those red eyes, but marginally better. Veela were not...not particularly barmy, precisely, when they were jealous or possessive. Nor purposefully malicious, either; only quite driven by that urge to Bind. To Have. To Keep. Didn't brook any interference, that's all. Very...purposeful the urge was…just like Malfoy.

"Oh! Er?" Still, the next thought struck him as a distinct blow across the chops and brought his back to his present with a sting and a snap. There was this one thing he - they - really required advice on; this one most crucial, harrowing question left hanging. "Fleur - one last, er, point, before you go off? Did you and Bill? I mean to say, erm, before you were married, had you? Um...ah?"

Harry went scarlet; he couldn't help himself. What he and Malfoy did in their grand bed still flustered the Merlin out of him. Even thinking of it made his heart race like a mad thing!

"Bonded, 'Arry?" Fleur giggled and Molly turned an interesting shade of red, brick as opposed to Harry's Gryffindor scarlet, whipping her head about at Harry's almost-question. She raised her gingery brows at him in silent reproof and he blushed all the darker. Asking Fleur whether she and Bill had been intimate before they, er, tied the knot, wasn't exactly...au fait, as Fleur would say. "'Arry, are you asking if we did ze nazty?"

"Nrgh," Harry nodded frantically, eager and antsy, all at once. Malfoy was coming closer; he could feel it. "Um-ah?"

"But yesss, of courze, 'Arry," Fleur chattered blithely, even going so far as to wink at him. "Eet waz not pozzible not to, comprenez vous? We would 'ave run mad, otherwize. We could not 'elp it."

"Harry Potter!" Molly huffed. "You are not thinking of anticipating this - this marriage ceremony of yours? Why, it's - it's a wedding, Harry! A sacred event! You can't possibly- !"

"Oh! Ack! Ah - no! Of course not, Mum Weasley - no such thing, but...um, well, Malfoy's on his way; I can feel it, so I can't – erm, goodbye!" Harry gabbled. "Good day! See you all in a few weeks, alright? At the—at the party we'll have, right? And - and Molly, if you'd please just also give Arthur our thanks for the use of the Burrow for the after-party, will you? Fleur - Fleur, thanks so much - I can't even begin to tell you how muchthat helps us-!"

"Harry Potter, you are up to something, aren't you?" Molly demanded suspiciously, hands planted firmly on wide hips. "You and Draco, both!" She paid no mind at all to his shooing motions or his unhappy little dance on the hearth rug. "Harry, dear, if Poppy says you two boys must do the deed properly then don't you dare even think about countermanding her orders! That's—that's an order, Harry! Myorder!"

"Er, um..." Harry muttered faintly, "about that, y'see, Mum Weasley...I sort of…I mean, I don't think it's going to be quite that easy..."

"Harry!"

"Come along, Maman," Fleur intervened kindly and hauled a grumbly Molly Weasley away with her through the hearth in a double-puff of greenish soot and cinders, still fulminating. "It iz not for you to worry over, that. That iz up to 'Arry 'ere and hiz Malfoy."

"But—!"