It had been a long and tiring day for the two fugitives and it was not even close to coming to an end. It was the day of the Summer Solstice, an ancient Pagan tradition known in England as Midsummer Day, and the whole village had been participating in the noisy, happy preparations for the feast for the past three-four days.

Harry's wizarding skills did come in really handy in the building process, and he finally managed to convince the others as well to combine forces as certain parts of the construction couldn't have been done the Muggle way. The sleek bridge, the pride of the village, was finally finished, after two weeks of construction work, the Queen herself hammering the last nail into the pillar, and Harry was voted to get the honours and walk through the bridge first. Truth be told, Mircea jokingly explained his vote with the fact that if the bridge collapsed under Harry, he would still be able to levitate himself back into safety, earning a murderous glare from Fleur and a painful pinch on his forearm.

Harry made the first few steps carefully, listening to any unexpected noises and ready to Apparate away if needed. A few yards further his confidence gradually increased and he walked the whole length of the bridge with steady, even steps. Upon reaching the other side, he victoriously raised his fist into the air and the colony burst out in loud cheering.

Fleur, immensely proud of her friend, ran towards him, meeting him halfway on the bridge, and flung herself on his neck, resulting in another round of cheering mixed with a few wolf whistles and quite a few disappointed moans. Both flushing red, they immediately let go of each other and walked silently back to the crowd, not even looking at the other. Understandingly smiling, the Queen offered her hand to Harry and the other youngsters, the gesture answered by a respectful bow from the boys' side before accepting it.

Slightly above six hundred mouths to be fed, the women of the colony had been preparing mountains of food, these past days, ready to be consumed during the festivities. The children, on the other hand, were collecting wood for the huge bonfire to be lit at sunset, all of them immensely enjoying the process including the youngest ones barely capable of walking. Roughly cut tables and long benches seating twenty were being constructed and quite a few casks of beer and wine were delivered via the new bridge only Merlin knows from where. The colony breathed as one organism, anticipating a wonderful night with food, wine, dances and singing.

At sunset, the people of the village collected around the 20-feet high heap of wood in the middle of the clearing. A good dozen women clad in simple white togas - Harry's eyes quickly identified the Queen and a beaming Fleur among them - formed an inner circle. Their hands raised to the skies, the thirteen voices chanted what to Harry sounded a prayer in unison, in a language he couldn't indentify, neither could he make out the words even after having cast Fleur's Translation charm. The prayer ended on a high note with a strange, dissonant glissando that rang in the cold evening for what seemed an eternity and Harry felt a small breeze caress his hair, a breeze of Veela magic that swept across the clearing.

In the silence that followed, twenty six palms pointed towards the heap of wood, twenty six fireballs smashed into the logs and the bonfire came alive with a loud whoosh. All broke out into loud cheering and clapping and soon excited chatter, singing and laughter filled the air as the music started and the people, old and young, big and small, soon engaged in a whirlwind of dance. Harry's eyes barely could make out a few flutes, a pair of fiddles and a strange-looking hammer dulcimer in the ensemble providing the music before a flushed and still heavily panting Fleur pulled him into the masses.

When the girl's hand touched his, Harry felt a sudden jolt of electricity. "What was that?" he enquired incredulously. In the merry cacophony, however, he heard nothing from Fleur's answer until the girl repeated her words, pointedly whispering them into his ear.

"The Summer Solstice is a very special day for us Veela. Today, we feel more connected to Mother Nature than ever and even the strongest of us will have difficulty in taming their powers. Be alert, my handsome friend, for hormones will be raising to dangerously high levels tonight."

In the darkness Harry couldn't make out from Fleur's features whether or not the girl was joking but he was quite positive he could feel the familiar, fluttering breeze around his beautiful companion for a moment. After brief consideration, he nodded briefly and saw her face immediately relax. Then, with a sudden jerk of her hand, she turned him around, into the cavalcade of dancers. Little remained him but to follow the simple steps of the quick dance, at first somewhat awkwardly, later with growing confidence.

A few dances later, which Harry survived without as much as stepping on Fleur's foot once, the two fugitives slipped through the dancers and and found themselves an empty spot at one of the tables. Exchanging a few friendly words with the people already sitting there, Harry loaded two wooden plates with food, handing one over to Fleur, and poured some wine in two glasses, Fleur drying hers in an instant. Screwing up her face in a grimace, she shrugged. "This is as far from a Bordeaux Pinot Noir as can be, but will do for one who wants to forget. Don't look at me like that," she snapped half-seriously, seeing Harry's questioning look. "I'm most certainly not going to drown myself in alcohol. I couldn't do it anyway; as all Veela are extremely susceptible to alcohol, I will most probably pass out after the second glass."

Harry was still examining her with an incredulous look and the young Veela rolled her eyes, ruffling up the young man's unkempt hair. "Relax, knight Harry, enjoy this night and I'm going to do just the same. Let's start with this delicious-looking piece of roast lamb," she continued, stuffing a generous piece of rosé meat into her mouth. A droplet of juice escaped, and Harry watched mesmerized as she slowly licked her lips, the simple, but sensuous gesture making his heart skipping a beat.

Fleur, on the outside, seemed to take no notice of the small intermezzo, but her female instincts clearly signalled her about the effects she had made on her companion. She decided, wisely, not to comment on the case, but something deep inside stirred in her that managed to confuse even her.

"Eat up before your meal turns cold, there's still more dancing to be done," she urged Harry, trying to sound casual to mask her internal turmoil. "I know, I know, I'm but a simple food-addicted, neurotic wench, who..." Another fair-sized chunk of meat Harry magicked in between her lips effectively silenced her, and the young wizard reached for his own plate as if nothing had happened.

Fleur tried to look hurt, but soon gave up as she was literally choking with laughter. "I'll get you for this one," she threatened her companion half-heartedly. Harry only indifferently drew his shoulders and, opening his mouth, demonstratively levitated a bite of meat into it as well; his eyes never leaving Fleur's. The girl bit her lower lip, then her gaze wandered over to a spot above Harry's head. The very next moment the boy felt droplets of red wine trickling over his head as his own glass, now floating above him, slowly turned around in the air and emptied its contents over him.

He jumped up, ready to take his revenge, but Fleur was swifter. With incredible agility Harry would have never expected from her, she escaped his hands and mixed into the dancing crowd, her ringing laughter still echoing in Harry's ears long after she was gone. Shaking his head, he cleaned himself off and returned to his meal as if nothing had happened, but he bore no grudge towards Fleur for her mischief, a much-welcome signal of her mend.

"Enjoying yourself, Harry?"

Startled, Harry turned around in search of the source of the sweet feminine voice. His left neighbour had left the table while he was eating and, much to his surprise, he found a pair of piercing blue eyes belonging to Elena shining at him as two miniature Suns instead.

Clad into the same simple white tunic Fleur was wearing and barefooted, the girl emitted a ringing smile, seeing Harry's somewhat comical state of confusion. To tell the truth, Harry had all rights to be confused at the sudden appearance of the young Veela and, to tell the truth, astonished. Even in the darkness, barely eased by the light of a dozen or so huge candles on the table, her almost ethereal beauty made him speechless. True, he had seen her enough times to remark her beauty – that morning at the lake he had seen even without any clothes on - but tonight she was more than that. All her presence radiated excitement and her body shivered slightly every now and then, as she was visibly struggling to keep her powers tamed. Her eyes twinkled as two huge, precious gems as she addressed Harry again, casually laying her long, white hand on his forearm.

"I was asking whether you were enjoying herself, Harry?"

She spoke softly, yet with more depth, more emotion in her voice than ever before. Of course, Harry thought, all Veela were different on this particular night. He just made a mental note of this, but didn't move his hand away. To tell the truth, even if he didn't admit it even to himself, it felt just good to feel this soft, yet burning presence against his skin.

"Can I get you something to drink?" he indicated towards a wine bottle with his free hand.

"Not tonight, I suppose," the girl sadly shook her head. "I would most probably ravage you or any other male between 16 and 106 on this very table before I've finished my first glass of wine, but a glass of juice would be just fine."

"Thank you," she nodded, drying the glass in an instant, and then returned her attention to Harry, carefully studying the curious expression he wore on his face. "Did I disgust you with what I've just said?"

Harry emitted a short, somewhat nervous laugh, hearing the implications in the girl's sentences. "Under normal circumstances, I would have nothing against being ravaged on a table by a beautiful girl. One has to try everything, at least once. In my case, however," he stressed the possessive pronoun, "I would prefer to be ravaged by the girl I'd loved with all of my heart but who is pretty much dead now, and not by some crazed Veela who just happens to have a hormonal overflow."

Seeing the girl's face momentarily cast over by a dark shadow, he understood at once he must have said something wrong. Taking the girl's hand – it was burning up with fever that spread over his skin as well – he briefly raised it to his lips, looking her deep in the eyes. "Please forgive for being so harsh, Elena. I have just buried the love of my life and I just can't look at another girl that way. Moreover, I happen to know that this night is special for all Veela and that you might not be able to control your powers tonight – I've been warned against it, so no, you didn't disgust me."

A hint of a smile appeared on Elena's face, casting away all shadows. "I also behaved like an ass, ignorant of your losses..."

"Sand over it," Harry cut into her words. "I can't expect from everybody here being acquainted with all details of my life and my personal woes. I guess we can still have some wine, can't we?"

Pouring her precisely half a glass from the white wine she'd indicated and refilling his own glass, they toasted. "To your health!" "To your health!" they said simultaneously and both burst out in laughter.

"Care to dance with me, Mr. Potter?" Elena stood, arranging her tunic, and reaching out with her hand to the young wizard. Harry stood and accepted the hand, apologetically smiling at his makeshift partner. "I may seem rude now, Elena, but I'd rather not. I'm quite the elephant when it comes down to dancing and I'm afraid I would trample your tiny feet in two seconds."

"That was just about the lamest excuse I've ever heard," Elena laughed earnestly, "but I don't mind, I get the point. Come on," she suddenly made up her mind, "I want to show you something. I promise I will not bite."

Before Harry could say a word, she Apparated them away the Veela way. Maybe because she was a full-blood Veela, the process took less than a heartbeat's time, he noted; rather at the flick of a switch than the gradual shifting through Planes Harry had experienced with Fleur a few times.

As much as Harry could see in the complete darkness, and that wasn't much, they were still in some forest, and the spicy smell of freshly-cut pine trees tickled his nostrils pleasantly. His left hand still held Elena's hand, but he didn't let go of her. Not that he was spellbound or in love with the girl - he was sure Veela charms couldn't affect him and his heart reminded him of a well dried out long ago – it just felt nice, but only in the way and to the amount a touch of Hermione's or Luna's hand felt. No one could trigger the same feelings again inside, he was sure of that, that a simple brush of Ginny's velvety skin against his hand would ignite, but Ginny was gone and with her was gone that part of himself that was capable of feeling anything.

Still slightly confused about being kidnapped this way, he turned his head left where Elena stood patiently and smiled at her, receiving a reassuring squeeze against his hand in answer. "Wait a second until your eyes get used to the darkness," she whispered into the silence. "It will be worth the waiting."

Moments later, Harry felt a gentle tug and the two set off towards a direction known only to her. Slowly they walked, for this part of the forest was dark and so thickly grown with trees so high that the moonlight couldn't find its way through them. He was just about to reach for his wand to cast a simple Lumos charm when Elena's voice caused him to abandon his idea. "Don't, Harry, you will scare her away with your light!"

"Her? Her whom?"

"You will see, Mr. Potter," Elena smiled mischievously into the darkness. "We are not far away."

They didn't have to wait long. As if at the swish of a wand, the forest abruptly ended and the two found themselves at the shore of a small lake. The full moon's light formed a silver bridge on the oily black, calm water; the endless skies sparkled with myriads of diamonds: the light of distant stars. It was a breathtaking view indeed and Harry couldn't help emitting an amazed sigh. He felt her beautiful companion was affected the same way, for her long, thin fingers clutched around his with a surprisingly strong grasp. She pulled him a few steps aside, where the trunk of an immense tree fallen long ago, thickly moss-grown, provided itself as a makeshift bench for the two wanderers.

Comfortably sitting on the trunk, Elena looked at Harry with a serious glance. The young wizard tried to smile back at his companion; her female instincts, however, clearly told her about his internal turmoil, his struggle within.

"I know what you must be going through, Harry."

"No, you don't, Elena," he suddenly found back his voice.

"I know well enough what I would be feeling if I were in your shoes," she retorted, not in an angry way, rather with a palpable feeling of pain in her voice.

"Have you ever lost anyone you loved, Elena? Do you know what it feels like never being able again to see, hear, touch, kiss, love the one person you were planning to live your life with? Never see your friends, never play Quidditch with your team, never wish good-morning to your surrogate father and mother? How would you feel when each and every person you've ever cared for, even some you hated with all of your heart, would be murdered in one night and you would be confronted with the fact that you must stand all alone in the world from now on?" Not even understanding what had made him to do so, Harry felt suddenly much better, having poured out all his wows to someone he was in no way attached to.

"You are right, Harry," she whispered in a broken voice. "I may prize myself lucky that I never have gone through all this."

Feeling ashamed, Harry swallowed heavily and a pregnant silence descended on the two. Why on Merlin's saggy pants did he have to choose her as a punch-bag? Why did he have to hurt her who had never done anything wrong to him?

He slowly turned towards the girl, getting hold of her other hand. "I'm sorry, Elena, I shouldn't have..."

"No, you shouldn't," she answered simply, taking his breath away with a soft, sensual kiss.

Neither of them was aware of the pair of forget-me-not coloured eyes following their every move.