Chapter 38 - Fact or Fiction?
Submitted: Sunday 18 Nov 2012 Prev. Sub.: Sun 11 Nov 2012
A/N: I've said this before but we are entering the stretch run. I must admit, I never had the intention of adding Harry's relationship with Eva to the story...at least in such detail. It serves a purpose. I expect the last few chapters to be intense so keep an eye on the dates of the last submitted chapters to avoid Spoilers. My hope is to have Aphrodite's Kiss finished by end of year (or mid-January latest) so don't be surprised if I submit two or more chapters in a week on occasion. In fact, the next chapter is already written and will be submitted Thursday or Friday of this week.
One last thing: I originally planned to write a sequel to this story but I'm wondering if there is interest enough to do so. Frankly, besides two people, I don't see many reviews so I'm not sure what the real interest is. I'm not pandering for reviews but if you would like me to continue then let me know – either with a review or a private message. Writing this story takes a tremendous amount of time and while I get satisfaction in writing it I'd like to know I was writing for an audience. You don't have to let me know right now...but I'm going to have to begin the research for the back-story of the sequel by mid-December. The plan is going to be for an action suspense with less romance and a gradual introduction of select children.
In all, there were two articles written by the mysterious Tari Streek concerning the Eva Flanagan Scandal. The first was titled, Fact or Fiction? Fiction! and was written a full week after the caption that had enraged the magic world. It debunked the rumour that Witch Weekly had itself started – beginning the story on the day Quilvash had first threatened Eva Flanagan and ending the day that she was 'wrongfully accused.' Eva Flanagan was portrayed as a brave witch who stood up to her Editor and stood for the wizard she loved. The story left the reader feeling sympathy for Eva and hoping desperately for a happy ending for both her and her love.
The second article came a week later. It was titled, aptly, The Great Apology and told the story of the fallout of the whole affair:
He entered the offices of the Daily Prophet early Monday morning. What he found was a teary-eyed witch packing the contents of her desk into a small box. The young witch couldn't look him in the eye. Instead, she focused on the last of her things.
"Eve?" Harry tried to get her to look at him but each time he moved his head to catch her gaze she'd turn in another direction. She continued to pick up the last memories of her life at the Prophet.
"Eve?" he asked again, "I tried to reach you by owl. I went to your place. Where have you been?"
She couldn't keep her silence any longer, "Me? Where have I been? Where were you Harry? Where were you all last week when my life was spinning out of control? I sent an owl but heard nothing. I tried to reach you at your home but I found that I could no longer remember where you lived. I tried the Ministry but they said you spend most of your time in the field."
"My mates thought it would be a good idea if I..."
"Act like a coward?" Eva hissed. "Oh, you were more than apologetic when the full story came out. I received the owl post...and the flowers...and all that other rubbish!" She threw the flowers he'd sent her but they flew harmlessly to his left. Shattered glass could be heard behind him but he didn't dare look back.
"How was I supposed to know...?"
"You couldn't've known Harry!" Eve shouted. "That is where faith comes in! Didn't you consider once just asking?"
Harry did consider asking. More than once. It wasn't so much that he was afraid of anything she could have done or written but that he was afraid that what had been written was true. He couldn't face the idea that she would have fooled him so easily.
He had never loved her. He knew that. But he fancied her. She was pretty. She was smart. She was fun. True, they were more like mates than boyfriend and girlfriend. When they snogged there wasn't the same passion as with Ginny or Eliza. Even so, he cared about her and it made him feel awful that he'd hurt her.
When Fleur had shown him that picture of the two of them at Diagon Alley in the paper and the words written beneath, his blood froze. So did his heart. He felt betrayed. It was true too. He had ignored her calls. But he'd ignored everyone's calls. He buried himself in his work and he and his partner Marianne conspired to work as much overtime as they could before her daughter returned from Hogwarts the following week. It was the only financial help that Marianne would allow Harry to provide. She wouldn't take any actual gold but she'd allow him to work the extra hours with her so that she could gather the extra wages.
Then he saw the full article in Witch Weekly the following weekend. He was mortified. It was only then that Harry realised that she had not only been innocent...but his protector. She'd been verbally abused and tormented for months by her editor because of him. And then, as thanks, instead of being the knight in shining armour he fashioned himself to be, he left her to face reams of hate mail and her abusive boss all alone. He remembered how lonely he felt during the Tri-Wizard Tournament when the press had come after him and he only felt worse.
And that's when he tried desperately to get in touch with her. He tried everything...except visit the Prophet. At first he couldn't make himself walk through those doors. He was afraid that would only make things worse.
But now he was finally here.
"I'm sorry."
"For what? For abandoning me?" she asked shrilly. She gestured to the floor, "Maybe your sorry for letting all of your so-called fans send me these sacks full of rubbish? Might it be for the hourly arrival of Howlers from all manner of witches who wanted me to know that I didn't deserve such a 'brave and loving wizard?'"
Eva closed her box. She was done packing. "I've been sacked, Harry. I don't know why but I'm actually a little happy about it. I have no job and no prospects. My dream of eventually becoming a writer is dead. What's sad, Harry, is not that I'm upset that I lost my job or my dreams or even my dignity. I'm upset that the one bloke that I thought would stand by me no matter what...instead abandoned me the first time there was any sort of conflict."
She wasn't finished, "I thought I loved you, Harry. I had these fantasies of you fearlessly saving me from a terrifyingly evil wizard and then carrying me away to live happily ever. I was certain you'd protect me from any danger. Little did I know that when I faced my most terrifying moment...that the one thing that would make you run with fear would be one itty-bitty lie." She picked up her box and carried it to the door, "You couldn't even protect me from that."
The conclusion to the third and final article said it all:
Harry watched as she walked out the door. This was no longer a sad witch. There was no slouch in her shoulders or pause in her step. If anything, Harry had offered her the opportunity to walk out with dignity...she now had closure. Despite all of the indignities of the previous week, she had stood up to the one person who'd wronged her most.
She walked away with her dignity and her soul intact. Not many in the field of journalism can say the same.
That said, this story is tragic no matter how one looks at it. Miss Flanagan was bullied and coerced by her boss. She was mistrusted and neglected by her boyfriend. Ultimately she lost her job protecting someone who abandoned her. Let's all hope this poor witch's tragic story at least ends happily.
ZZZZZZZZZZZZ
This was not the type of story that Rita Skeeter wrote but it was vintage Tari Streek. Tari Streek was everything that Rita had buried beneath years of experience. Long jaded by the lies and embellishments, she eventually forgot that the truth even mattered.
Rita sat reading her final story yet again. She was still proud that it had rated the front page. As she sipped her tea, she felt the odd sensation that she was being watched.
"Are you happy?" Harry asked as he plopped down in the booth opposite her.
"How did you find me here?" Rita asked...more annoyed than worried.
"I've been looking for you for months," Harry mused. "It wasn't until your article that I spoke with a certain Editor at Witch Weekly. She told me you liked to frequent this place when you weren't researching a story."
"That cow," Rita complained.
"She didn't tell me that you wrote the story. She only told me where to find you."
Rita raised a sceptical eyebrow.
"I read that story over and over again and all the while I tried to figure out who could have heard our entire conversation. It's surprising how easy it is to forget that you are an Animagus. Hermione would have caught it right off but I haven't been in any mood to speak to anyone."
"And so you remembered I was an Animagus and Bob's your uncle, eh?" Rita quipped.
"Actually, no," Harry frowned. But I have become brilliant with anagrams. After the fourth or so reading I noticed a striking similarity between Tari Streek and Rita Skeeter."
"And so?" Rita sipped her tea. It needed warming up. "You're here to warn me to stop writing about Eva? Will you wallop me, like you did my editor, if I refuse to stop?"
"No." It was Harry's turn to frown, "I was just curious. Doesn't it bother you? You ruined her career and our relationship with little more than a caption and a picture. And none of it was true."
"I followed up with the truth in the article. I made it very clear that she never in any way had intended to write about you. And then the final article vindicated her entirely. My readers learned that despite everyone's unfair words for her, it was you that deserved the better amount of it."
"And all of the pain you caused her?" Harry asked.
Rita wasn't going to honour that question with an answer, "Have you spoken to her?"
"Won't have a thing to do with me," he answered wistfully, "and rightfully so. I was a right arse."
"I must admit," Rita observed, "that was very unHarry-like of you. I've never known you to doubt one of your mates – especially a bird. Normally you come to their defence with both wands blazing. What happened?"
Harry reflected, "I had a bad experience." He was about to go into more detail but he quickly sobered to the sound of quill scratching paper, "Wait, why am I telling you?"
Rita couldn't hold back a grin. "Oh, do go on," she dared him.
Harry's scowl signalled an end to the sharing. She dropped it, "That's fair enough. I'm sad to hear that the two of you didn't work out. Would it make you feel better if I told you that Phil offered Eva a position at The Quibbler as a junior writer?"
"Luna's dad?" Harry asked. "I thought he wrote everything himself."
"Luna's dad?" Rita thought for a moment, "Oh, yes, the very one. Mr. Lovegood was quite impressed with her moral character and he has her writing an article for his next edition...so the only real tragedy was that the two of you didn't work out."
She wasn't about to tell Harry that she had recommended the young witch herself or that the arrangement was on a trial basis. Cleaning up a mess caused by her writing wasn't something that Rita would have even considered doing...but it was precisely something Tari Streek, or even Margarita Skatarvsky, would do.
"Tell me, Harry. This is off the record," she promised, "did you at least love her?"
Harry's eyes told her everything she needed to know.
She sighed, "I suppose it wasn't all that tragic after all."
ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
Gabrielle woke in high spirits. The morning before she'd read an article in Witch Weekly that all but announced the end of Harry's relationship with that receptionist he'd been seeing. Her fears that this summer would wind up like the last had been completely unfounded.
Even better, Hermione had dropped by later that evening promising to take her to see Harry herself. Until then she'd feared that his row with Fleur might leave her with no excuse to see him. She'd spent nearly a week at Shell Cottage with little more to do than play with Victoire and the tiny little elves.
They were growing so fast. Already the young elves were walking and speaking rudimentary English. Their mum, Winky, lavished them with attention and when she wasn't caring for the cottage she was cooing over them. The two elves looked identical except by what they wore. Both sported large brown eyes, floppy pointy ears, and smiles that often reached from ear to ear. Tinkles was dressed just like her mum in a white tunic fashioned out of a small pillow case and refused even to wear socks.
Dumbles wore an oddly striped shirt that was as bright and varied as a rainbow. His trousers were silky and black with little red clowns embroidered on them. A silky jester's hat flopped over an ear and polka-dotted slippers with little fuzzy balls on the end protruded out from under his trouser legs. The slippers made his feet look several sizes larger than they were and completed his look. Victoire had undressed a toy clown of her's a few weeks before and fitted the clothes on the pint sized elf. Dumbles had refused to take off the outfit ever since.
Often Tinkles and Dumbles could be found with Victoire in her playroom playing Princesses and Dragons.
Little Dumbles could already be heard roaring this morning as the half-sized witch and the even smaller elf squealed in mock fright. Victoire called out, "Somewon pwease hep us fwom the dwagon!"
Bill's voice soon rumbled through the hall. He could be heard trying to lower his voice to a baritone but it was humorously forced, "I've come to save you damsel. Take care and ride my steed to safety!"
Victoire giggled, "But daaaddy, what will Tinkles wide? She's in twubble too!"
And it went on like that as Gabrielle pulled herself from her cosy bed. The smell of bacon filled her with optimism. She was certain that she and Hermione would be received well. The only question would be how fast she'd push things. It would be bad form to push too hard for a date before he'd had time to get over that receptionist. Bill had shown her the first little blurb to give her context. The article that followed was very long and sad. She felt a little remorse for her rival but only a little.
The final article had been heart-wrenching. Despite how she felt for Harry, it broke her heart to have to see all of the torture that the public had put that witch Eva through. Then to see Eva leave both the Daily Prophet and Harry on her own terms gave Gabrielle loads of respect for her. She found herself rooting for the witch by the end of the story.
But she could also tell that the whole ordeal had been hard on Harry. She was going to have to be very careful how she approached him because any wrong move or misinterpretation of his feelings would make for a quick end to her dreams. This would be as difficult as anything she'd ever done. She'd never had to pursue a bloke before. She preferred being the pursued.
Gabrielle tied her robe tightly around her waist and followed the smell of bacon. Harry would have to wait.
ZZZZZZZZZZZ
Harry met Gabrielle in the Sitting Room. Well, it wasn't so much a meeting as an ambush. He was relaxed on a sofa with a cup of tea in one hand and a book in another when the Floo flashed the familiar green warning that a visitor had arrived. A second flash and Hermione had arrived as well, "Morning Harry!"
"What the...?"
"Mind your language, Harry. We have a visitor!"
Hermione was in rare form. She was sick of Harry's moping the past few days and her promise to Fleur seemed as good an excuse as any to get Harry to do something. Madeline's mother Marianne had taken her holiday to coincide with Madeline's first week back from from Hogwarts. Harry was left with no-one to hold him accountable at the Ministry. He'd taken to lounging around the house all day in his pyjamas and even now he was reading. She'd wondered weeks before what he'd do now that the necklace was found. Nothing! He was doing nothing and it was driving Hermione insane.
"I can see that!" Harry answered with a syrupy happiness that promised he was not happy at all. Gabrielle shifted her weight from one foot to another as her confidence slipped away. Harry looked positively angry, "You could have warned me that you were going to have guests."
"Harry, we have a guest!" she corrected. She flopped down next to her mate on the sofa with all of the drama she could muster. His cup jerked and what was left spilled onto his lap.
He sighed and pulled out his wand. As he banished the cold liquid away, Hermione mused, "Careful, one slip and we might be calling you Harriette."
The young wizard gaped at her. Hermione never acted like this, "Have you lost your mind? What has gotten into you?"
"No," Hermione grinned, "My mind is precisely where it should be. On the contrary, your manners are nowhere to be found. Will you invite our guest to take a seat?"
Harry could only sit open-mouthed. Hermione was acting rather oddly. Eventually he recovered his wits, "Good morning, Gabrielle. Please, sit."
The Veela took no time to take a seat. She wanted badly to sit instead in the sofa opposite her...next to Harry in his pyjamas and robe. Her emotions were split. The better part of her wanted to leave – she could physically feel Harry's desire to be alone so that it overwhelmed her. It pressed against her heart like a weight so heavy that it made it difficult for her to breathe. The portion of her that compelled her to make her chosen companion happy was screaming at her that she needed to leave immediately.
The other portion of her whispered in her ear that she was finally here. She'd fantasized for months how this day would go. Ever since Harry had promised her one date after she returned from school, she'd played out every scenario in her head...good and bad.
"Well!" Hermione interrupted. Apparently Gabrielle had gotten lost in her thoughts and the two flatmates had begun to argue, "If you are going to speak to me like that then I'm going upstairs!" She got up and stomped out of the room.
"Wait!" Harry called after her. "You're just going to leave Gabrielle here?"
It was obvious the only response he was going to get was the stomping of her boots and the eventual faint 'thwack!' as the door slammed upstairs. He did his best to smile politely at Gabrielle.
He shifted in his seat. He still held the empty cup in one hand and the book in the other. She tried to read the name on the cover but he set it down before she got the chance. The silence could have lasted for a second or for minutes...she wasn't sure.
"I can get dressed and see you home if you'd like," he finally proposed. Immediately he changed his tone, "Oh, love, what's wrong?"
She sniffed and rubbed her eyes in an attempt to drive away any tears, "Hermione asked me to come here to see you because I've been looking forward to seeing you for so long and I did as she asked and I don't know what happened but it's just gone horribly wrong and I don't know what I did." She felt impossibly warm...her cheeks had to be the brightest shade of pink, she was sure. The Veela had played out so many scenarios in her head but none had ended with her whining and crying like a little girl.
"Love, you didn't do anything," Harry assured her. "It's Hermione I'm angry with."
"But you don't want to see me," she sniffed.
"That's not true," Harry tried to assure her. "Actually, it's sort of true. But I don't want to see anyone right now. I've had a rough few weeks." He stood up, conjured a handkerchief and offered it to her, "If you'd heard anything about the whole affair, you wouldn't be so excited about seeing me."
Gabrielle was thankful for the handkerchief. She dabbed her eyes. Her voice still had a slight nasal quality as she didn't dare blow her nose in front of him, "I read the stories."
That was all it took for Harry's head to sink in defeat. However he felt about Gabrielle, he had a certain amount of pride. Knowing that someone who looked up to him had read about what he'd done made him even more ashamed than before. Flopped back down on his sofa, he asked, "Then you know all about it?"
Gabrielle merely nodded. She'd avoided the flood of tears but she desperately needed to blow her nose. She was afraid she'd snort involuntarily if she spoke a word and despite the fact he'd already given her a handkerchief she didn't want to suffer that last indignity.
"Then you know that I hurt someone I cared a lot about because I was a ruddy git," he said as much as asked.
Again she nodded.
"Then why do you want to go out on a date with me?" he asked. "I'm obviously not the type of bloke you should want to date. I am an awful cowardly fool."
She couldn't help it. She breathed in hard and an inward snort filled the room as she unstuffed herself in a most unladylike fashion. At least that was the way it sounded in her head. Thankfully, he made no indication whatsoever that he heard a thing. Now that her head was cleared somewhat, she tried to speak, "You aren't awful...or cowardly." She kicked herself inwardly – she sounded awful.
"I broke her heart," he complained.
"I'm part Veela. I can feel your pain in here," Gabrielle insisted as she pointed to her head. Thankfully she sounded better. Her confidence grew as she tried to reassure him, "You made a mistake. It was awful and terrible and it broke her heart but I can feel your remorse." She noticed him bolt a little at the word 'remorse.'
Against her better judgement, she got up and walked over to him...sitting next to him. She took his hand in hers, "Do you know why Veelas were so highly sought after in the Middle Ages?"
Harry shook his head. Hermione had told stories about their use by dark wizards but he'd never taken the time to learn specifics.
She pushed his legs apart and kneeled before him. This earned a rather humorous look of shock from him but she ignored it. Instead she began to speak in a tone so calming that he did as she asked:
"I want you to close your eyes, Harry, and think about all of the very worst things you've done the past few weeks. I want you to think about them and how they hurt those that you loved the most."
His brow furrowed and creases made his face much sharper than before. His eyes remained closed. Gabrielle began chanting in a language Harry had never heard. It was eerily similar to the speech of the mermaids in the lake at Hogwarts.
"Open your mouth like you are blowing a bubble," she instructed in a whisper.
He did as he was told. If his eyes had been open he'd have seen a smoky substance like fog or the essence of a dream flow from of his mouth. It was quickly sucked in by the young Veela.
No longer did he feel the guilt or the sadness of before. Instead he felt vibrant and full of life. In fact, his first inclination was to pull out his broom and make a couple of rounds of the nearest Quidditch pitch. So free of worry, it took him a few moments to even remember that Gabrielle was kneeling just inches away from him, "What did you do? I feel fantastic."
She, too, was full of euphoria but for a very different reason. Only inches from Harry, her chosen companion, she could feel every bit of his joy. The exhilaration was like nothing she had ever felt before. She knelt there, shaking, unable to move or speak. She wanted to feel this way forever.
"Gabrielle, are you all right?"
His concern only dulled the feeling a little. She took shallow breaths as she let the last shivers pass through her and what was left was a tingling sensation that made her want to remain as still as possible.
"Gabrielle?"
Reluctantly, she pulled herself out of her trance. As good as she felt, she didn't want to spook him. She opened her eyes only to find that everything was brighter and more colourful. She'd been told by her mother that this was how it would feel. She explained without explaining, "It is part of the ritual."
He wasn't letting anything ruin his afternoon but he didn't want to seem selfish, "I hope I didn't hurt you in any way."
'Quite the contrary,' she thought to herself. To him, "No, it didn't hurt at all."
"Well, I feel like a bite to eat. And a bit of fresh air. Maybe some ice-cream?" Harry was absolutely devoid of inhibition and he was up for anything and everything.
Gabrielle pulled herself off of the ground and was now sprawled out on the sofa opposite him. Her head was resting on an overstuffed pillow and she was relishing in the glow that was Harry's joy. It was like lying near the beach on a cool but sunny day when the warmth from the sun struck that perfect balance. She'd have stayed there forever if she could. Sparks like little wisps of electricity burst all around her aura and she could feel the snaps of the sparks all around her. She felt a yearning like she'd never felt before.
"Would you like to go eat?" Harry asked...breaking the silence. "My treat."
"Mmmm...hmmm," she answered dreamily, "But can I just lie here for a little longer before we go?"
"Sure," he answered...not even bothered that she was sprawled out. It was as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "I need to go get washed up and dressed anyhow. I might even get a shave. I'll be back down in a few."
"Mmmm...hmmm," she answered. More relaxed than ever before in her life, all she wanted to do now was sleep...forever if possible. And that's what she did. She passed into a dreamless sleep and napped for a good half hour before he returned. When she woke, she was ready for anything and everything that the world dared throw at her.
ZZZZZZZ
Ron couldn't help himself, "You finally did it, didn't you?"
"Did what?" Harry asked. He had no way of seeing the spring in his step this morning.
"You know...it?" Ron asked. This time he sounded less sure of himself.
"You don't have to speak in code, Ron. I'm not a prude." Harry reminded him. He flopped merrily down into a seat in Ron's office.
Harry felt like he'd ignored his mate lately. Feeling as cheerful as he could ever remember, he decided it was time to think about others besides himself. He decided to drop into the Ministry not so much to get work done but to get some time in with his best mate. With Marianne away and all of his pressing cases closed, he only made the smallest effort to pretend he was getting work done this week.
"I know," Ron finally answered as he looked up from a report. He noted Harry's much more open demeanour, "But Hermione insists I should be more sensitive about these things with you."
Harry wasn't going to let Hermione bring him down, "You don't have to do any such thing. We're best mates. You can ask me anything."
"All right..." Ron looked unsure but he did as he was asked, "Did you...visit the Promised Land?" He tried to keep it as clean as he could. Ron knew whatever he said still might get back to Hermione.
"Erm...No." Harry answered matter-of-factly.
"Well you certainly act like it," Ron responded as he returned to his work. Without looking up he observed out loud, "I don't know who you've been spending time out with or what the two of you have been doing but you may want to consider doing more of it."
ZZZZZZZZZZZ
That same morning Fleur found her sister enjoying a croissant in the kitchen. The young Veela pulled the pastry apart one flaky bite at a time and placed it carefully on her tongue between sips of coffee. The joy that each bite brought would have left any wizard defenceless. 'Merlin help Ron if she ever eats breakfast at Harry's,' Fleur thought to herself.
The younger Veela beamed as if she were the sun herself. Fleur couldn't help but ask, "Did you see Angels?"
Gabrielle smirked, "I appreciate that you only speak English here at the Cottage but I don't think you worded that properly."
Fleur eyed her daughter as she reassured her sister, "No, you understood perfectly."
"Oui," glowed Gabrielle. "Voir les Anges..." she added with a grin, "It does a woman good."
The last phrase caused Fleur some confusion, "What?"
"Just something I remember from a film," Gabrielle answered as her smirk grew into a full blown smile. She felt so perfectly brilliant that everything seemed either happy or funny or...happy.
Victoire chimed in over the last remaining scraps of her croissant. The little witch had torn her's into dozens of small flaky bits trying to imitate her aunt, "You saw a weal angel? What did it wook like?"
Mother and sister shared an amused look. Gabrielle was the first to answer with a wink toward the little witch's mum, "Mon Ami, you will know soon enough."
"But not too soon," Fleur added hopefully, "Are you finished with your breakfast, dear?"
"Yes, Mum," Victoire answered politely.
"Then go on outside and play with Tinkles and Dumbles," Fleur suggested as she helped her daughter down. Once the little witch kissed her mum she ran out the door with bare feet flying. Fleur quickly returned her attention to her younger sister, "Tell me everything!"
And Gabrielle did. "The ritual worked precisely how mum said it would," Gabrielle explained to her sister.
"Did you..?"
"No," Gabrielle answered emphatically. "He was in too much pain. He still feels responsible for what happened with that witch. But once I took his guilt away...it felt..."
"Like you'd never felt before?" Fleur tried to help.
"Oui!" Gabrielle gushed. "I couldn't move. I just lie there shaking. I could feel myself shiver."
"It gets better," Fleur promised. "All you feel now is joy. When he feels joy it is like a wave of ecstasy." Fleur lowered her voice, "But the other feelings are even better. Wait until the two of you share your first kiss. And then when you..."
Gabrielle interrupted, "...There is no way I could have felt better than this. You don't understand."
Fleur smiled knowingly, "Oh, Mon Ami, I do understand. Imagine you are eating a piece of candy. Maybe a lollipop? Can you imagine that?"
"Oui," Gabrielle smiled.
"...The difference is like the difference between a lollipop and the very best chocolate truffle." Fleur smiled as she too imagined the very best truffle she'd ever had, "Lollipops are good but there is a whole other complexity of flavour to chocolate that you can't even explain unless you've tasted it yourself. That is how it feels."
The two sat in silence as the thought of truffles lingered in their heads. Each sipped their coffee and Gabrielle returned to her croissant.
Fleur finally shook herself out of her stupor, "You said Harry still feels bad about the young lady he was seeing?"
Gabrielle nodded as she sipped her coffee, "I was able to take away most the guilt and sadness with the ritual. I think he will need a few more visits before it is fully is gone. He felt really awful for what he did."
"He should," Fleur answered in a tone that was a little too judgemental for Gabrielle. Noticing the narrow stare, the elder Veela reluctantly admitted with a roll of her eyes, "I was a leetle responseeble too."
Gabrielle had no plans to offer any quarter on this subject. By now she'd pulled the entire story of what had happened from Bill. Wizards were so easy.
The younger Veela continued to glare at her sister.
"Mon Ami!" Fleur finally exclaimed as she threw up her hands in surrender, "It was all my fault! But I deed eet for you. You would steel be lying in your bed full of despair had I not interveened. And how would I know she was eenocent?"
"Thank you," Gabrielle offered as a truce, "and you are right. I wouldn't be seeing him today if it weren't for you." The younger Veela paused, "You should apologise to him, though."
"Oui, oui...when he finally speaks to me I will," Fleur promised as she shook her head sadly.
Gabrielle glanced at the cookoo clock on the wall. It reminded her of the one the Weasleys had at the Burrow. Victoire was 'Safe at Home' as were the rest of the Weasley household. Gabrielle had recently been added but she wasn't all that sure she was comfortable with the idea.
Looking at the time she remarked, "You'll have your next opportunity in about an hour. He'll be here then to pick me up."
"What?!" Fleur's mind filled with an instant list of things to do. Unlike Mrs. Weasley, Fleur couldn't stand a thing to be out of place when visitors arrived, "Winky!"
A 'Crack!' announced Winky's arrival, "Mrs. Weasley?"
"Harry will be here in an hour! Can we have the cottage ready?" Fleur asked in a panic.
The worry was totally unnecessary. Winky got a gleam in her eye, "Guests? Winky will clean and cook and make tea!"
Gabrielle couldn't hold back a smile. Winky and Fleur were perfect for each other. Both loved to entertain and neither could stand a speck of dust in the Cottage when guests arrived. Winky loved nothing more than too cook...well, except the three little children that turned the Cottage upside down daily, of course. Still, she couldn't lead the poor little elf on, "Harry and I won't be eating, Winky. We're having lunch in London this afternoon."
The elf had a look of mischief about her, "Misses Gabrielle will eat with Master Harry at Shell Cottage...Master Potter never says 'No' to Winky..." Gabrielle stifled a giggle as the elf shared a wicked smile and left the room with a 'Crack.'
Winky was right. Since Winky had moved into the Cottage, Gabrielle could never remember Harry ever saying 'no' to her. As she finished the last of her croissant, Gabrielle mused that she might learn a lot from the little elf.