"How was it?" Fleur asked as Harry and her father stepped through the floo.

Her face fell as the green floo-fire parted to reveal her father's thunderous expression.

"Another sham of a trial," Sebastian said, waving a hand angrily back at the fireplace. "Justice for one man, then they silenced another. They had Pettigrew kissed before he could give testimony during Dumbledore's upcoming forum regarding Voldemort's return."

"They finally let Sirius free though," Harry added quietly, his voice subdued and his sense melancholy.

"That is good though," Fleur tried. "Is it not?"

Harry nodded.

"Dinner will be ready before long," Fleur's mother said, stepping into the living room and wiping a hand on her apron. "Come along Sebastian, I'll pour you a glass of that scotch you like so much and then you two can sit down to talk, instead of standing in front of the floo." She smiled at Harry to take the sting from her words and offered a hand to Sebastian, who took it gratefully.

Fleur gestured to one of the chairs by the large window overlooking the southern woods and took a seat in the chair opposite. She glanced to where her parents had left the room as Harry sat, then turned back to him.

"You do not feel nearly as excited as I would have expected you to be following the acquittal of your godfather," she said gently, trying to suppress the thrill that ran through her at being freely able to listen to her abilities with Harry. True to his word, he'd allowed her to 'read' him when they were alone, even allowing her to put words to certain feelings he was unable to when he'd gotten word about Sirius' trial date.

"I'm glad he's free," Harry said quickly, "but they said he's got to go through certain treatments to retake his position as head of house Black. Dumbledore said that meant he wouldn't be able to take me in until he was better."

"Did he say anything about what happened?" Fleur asked gently. She let out a frustrated sigh as Harry shook his head.

"He said he was pretty busy," Harry said with a frown. "Which makes sense. He is about to present to the ministry about Voldemort coming back."

"That is true," Fleur said slowly. "It would have been nice if he would have at least said something. You said he was the one who left you with those horrible people."

Harry smiled inwardly as Fleur finished. She'd made her distaste for the Dursleys perfectly clear, and refused to call them by name, instead opting to insult them at every opportunity. It wasn't 'burning them down,' which she threatened almost as often, but he'd prefer name-calling to finding Fleur had been sent to Azkaban for murder.

"That's what Hagrid told me anyway," Harry said, snapping Fleur back from listening to his feelings.

Before Fleur could reply, Apolline stepped back into the room.

"Dinner is ready," she said, an odd resigned note in her voice. "Harry I have done my best, I hope the blueberry pie is any good at all. I have never fought so hard with a pastry in my life."

"I'm sure it will be great, thank you, Mrs. Delacour," Harry said, rising. "Pie crust is tricky. It took me ages to get it right. I can help you if you want."

"You are a guest Harry," Apolline replied. A phrase she'd grown used to saying during Harry's stay. " But… I would probably benefit from some pointers. Do you want to help me with a wildberry pie tomorrow"

"Absolutely," he answered, grinning.

"Come along then," she said, gesturing them both to follow to the dining room. "Gabrielle and Sebastian are likely almost finished by now."

Fleur blinked away her surprise as she followed Harry, his sense overflowing with excitement.

Harry took his seat at his usual spot at the small dining table. The Delacours had a truly impressive wooden table that, after seeing it, Harry had expected to eat there his first night. Mr. Delacour had shown Harry to their more reasonable personal dining room, just off their sizable kitchen. Harry had missed a step at the sight of it, instantly hoping he'd be able to make at least one thing inside.

He'd always enjoyed cooking, despite the people he was forced to do it for. It was predictable but allowed him room to be creative if he followed a few simple rules. He found he liked dancing for much the same reason...maybe Fleur would-

"Harry? Is it not good?" Apolline asked, her brows drawn together in a frown.

Harry started, surprised that his thoughts had carried him away for so long.

"It's good, Mrs. Delacour," Harry said, dutifully take a large bite of the cottage pie. It was quite good, and he looked forward to dessert, no matter how she said she had struggled. The conversation was light and meaningless, an event he had come to appreciate immensely, though that night, the air was tense with the weighty subjects being avoided.

"Harry," Sebastian called as the plates floated up and away once they'd finished eating. "Would you please stay behind. Unfortunately, there is pressing business to discuss."

Harry felt his chest tighten, and he couldn't stop himself from shooting a panicked glance over to Fleur, who smiled reassuringly in response.

Once it was just Harry and Sebastian, the older man stood and gestured for Harry to follow him into his office. Harry took the offered seat in front of Sebastian's desk, and looked around the opulent room, eyes wide.

"I know," Sebastian said with a grimace, eyeing the multitude of ornate bookshelves lining the walls. "They seem to think the ambassador's work will be better if done in a library. My choice would be far more spartan, but that is far from the point. We have a date for your hearing. It will be Wednesday of next week. We will have to go to the Ministry that morning and get everything prepared. I will provide the memories you allowed me to use, and you will have to make a statement."

"A statement as in…?"

"You will have to explain why we need to permanently remove you from their home. It can be as simple as repeating what you said in your letter, which will be submitted for evidence as well." Sebastian pulled open an envelope lying on his desk and produced a familiar, but slightly burnt piece of paper.

"Why is it burnt?" asked Harry.

"You will have to ask Fleur," Sebastian said with a small smile before dropping the paper back to the table. "I would recommend that you, at the very least, go into specific details about the injuries that will be seen in my memories. Anything else you remember will, of course, be useful, though I doubt it will be necessary.

"However," Sebastian continued, holding up one finger. " You do not have to. We will move forward with the hearing regardless. My memories will be enough to launch a thorough investigation, which we both know they will find more than enough to remove you from the home."

"Then why would I talk about it, if I don't have to?"

"It will expedite the process," Sebastian answered with a sigh. "I want you to be aware ahead of time. The Dursleys will be at the Ministry that day. They have been summoned, the same as a court in the muggle world. If they do not show, they will be arrested. Should your case have significant enough evidence, they will be tried shortly after your hearing is complete."

Sebastian's words faded to a ringing noise in Harry's ears. He'd have to be near the Dursleys again. How did anyone expect him to do anything in front of those monsters?

"Harry?" Sebastian asked into the silence.

"What do you think I should do?" Harry asked hoarsely.

"It's your choice. I cannot make it for you. I am sorry."

Harry nodded slowly.

"I want to be done with it," Harry whispered. It felt like a treasured secret he'd guarded for years finally let loose. "I want to be done with it for good."

"Then I would recommend giving a statement. One that is as accurate as you feel comfortable giving," Sebastian said. "It will be a closed hearing, but you can have as many people as you want to come with you. Did you want Sirius to come along?"

"I expect he'll need to know why I need a place to stay," Harry said, nodding. He hadn't thought so many people would come to know what he'd been through so quickly after sending Fleur his letter, and the magnitude of the events put into motion was beginning to seem overwhelming.

"I'll get in touch with him then, let me know if you think of anyone else. In the meantime, why don't we leave the rest be for this evening? If anything pressing comes up, I will let you know."

"Thanks, Mr. Delacour," Harry said, before turning and leaving the office.

As the door shut behind him, Fleur rose from a seat in the adjoining parlor and rushed over to meet him.

"Bad news?" she asked, her head tilted slightly to the side as her blue eyes scanned his face.

"Not exactly. The hearing to determine if I get to stay away from my relatives is next week," he explained. He paused. "Why was the letter I sent you burned on the sides?"

Fleur's burgeoning fury at the mention of the Dursleys melted away as a flush crept up her face and down her neck.

"I was...rather upset," she said primly, though he saw the flush in her cheeks darken. "Younger Veela have trouble fully controlling both their inner flame and avian forms when they are upset."

"You were that upset by my letter?" Harry asked, shocked. He knew Mr. Delacour had said Fleur had a hand in getting him out, but he hadn't expected her to be so invested.

"Of course," Fleur said, perplexed. "I care a great deal about you."

It was Harry's turn to blush his own shade of red at her blunt admission. Before either could say anything more, Apolline stepped quickly into the room.

"Ah, good. Fleur, could you lend me a hand up in my room. I need another pair of eyes, and you are more critical than your father." She turned to Harry apologetically. "I'm sorry Harry, but us girls only. It shouldn't take too long."

Harry nodded, following a summons from Gabrielle who had followed her mother around the corner.

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

"What do you need help with?" Fleur asked, closing her mother's bedroom door behind them after stepping through.

"I've unfortunately just received word from the Ambassador's Foundation that our semi-annual meetup has been moved to tomorrow afternoon. I need your help with choosing what to wear. You know I'm terribly indecisive."

Fleur stopped her slow stride to the edge of her parent's large bed and whirled to face her mother. "You promised Harry the two of you would bake the pie together tomorrow!"

Apolline turned in surprise at her daughter's vehemence.

"I will still bake with him," she said slowly, before turning back to rummage through the closet. "It is not easy to get out of these obligations. The pie will still be just as good the following day."

"But it means so much to him," Fleur continued doggedly. "Isn't there something you can do?"

"I have responsibilities to the ambassador's foundation, no matter how dull the events are. Harry will understand." Apolline turned to face the indignant face of her daughter, two silver dresses in hand. "Why is it so important? He seemed a little excited by the prospect, but not so much as to cause distress. What is your problem with this?"

" You didn't feel how excited he got. I doubt he's been that thrilled about anything since I've met him," Fleur ground out, trying her best not to raise her voice.

"Feel...Fleur?" Her mother said slowly, her eyes growing wide.

" Merde."

" Fleur!"

"Sorry Maman," Fleur said, as unapologetically as possible. "Please don't let him know I said anything. I don't think he'd mind, but I need to ask him first."

"How? When did it change? Did it go away again?" Apolline asked, her dresses dropped to the floor, forgotten.

"That doesn't matter," Fleur said, rising from her seat on the edge of her parent's bed. "What matters is him. You said we need to focus on him to make sure he knows he's safe and wanted here. He needs to be someone's priority."

"He sounds like he's your priority," Apolline replied, her voice calm and controlled.

"I...He's my friend," Fleur said. "He's someone I care about and he needs my help. I can do so little for him normally, so when I can do something…"

"I understand," her mother said gently, dropping onto the bed next to Fleur. "But don't discount what you have done already. Do you think he'd have reached out to just anyone?"

"No," Fleur answered. She felt a thrill of excitement pulse through her again. Just a year previous she'd been sitting in the same house, a sense of lonely depression settling over her as another year of solitude passed her by. Now she had a friend. One who seemed to accept everything about her; her abilities, heritage, and her monstrous other form.

"No, I don't," she said more confidently. "Our situations are far from the same, but he understands our struggle. I think that has helped."

"I think you are right," Apolline said, gently laying a hand on Fleur's shoulder. "I am unaccountably happy that you've met someone that not only understands you but someone that can be themselves around you as well. I wish it were under better circumstances, but I am glad you found each other."

"As am I," Fleur said quietly. Harry's presence in her life had been surrounded by stressful and traumatic events, but he had still brought a light along with him simply by being patient and understanding. The very least she could do was return the favor.

"You are right, however," Apolline said after a moment. "I will contact the event planner, and let her know I will be unable to attend."

"Thank you Maman," said Fleur, rising from the bed.

"Please sit, Fleur," her mother said, her tone sending a familiar chill of dread up Fleur's spine.

"What is it?" Fleur asked, sitting back down.

"I am...concerned...for you," her mother said slowly, clearly taking care in choosing her words.

"In what way?" Fleur asked. She could feel her hackles rise preemptively at her mother's tone, but if her mother was trying to keep things civil, she could oblige.

"I worry that you are...overly invested in Harry," Apolline said, wincing internally as she finished, instantly sure she could have worded her thoughts better.

"You just told me you were happy that we'd met," Fleur replied flatly, though Apolline could see the familiar spark of anger in her eyes. "Now you're concerned I'm overly invested? What does that mean?"

"I am," Apolline defended, "but I remember how important that first friend can be after coming into your power-"

"You keep saying that," Fleur interrupted, the venom in her voice hiding behind the barest veil, "but I somehow doubt you found yourself in quite this situation."

"I wasn't," her mother admitted, "but it was similar."

"What do you mean?"

"It is neither important nor relevant," Appoline said calmly, barreling over the disagreement she saw festering in her daughter. "What happened with Nolan was a tragedy, and one I expect you have had a critical hand in preventing with Harry."

Fleur sat back in surprise, vague memories of the first funeral she'd had to attend as a small girl rising in her mind.

"What-"

"Fleur just listen and please stop arguing," her mother said, the hitch in her voice quelling the rising argument in Fleur's throat. She nodded slowly, clamping down on her angry impulses.

"I remember how important that first friend can be," Apolline repeated, "because I married mine ."

Fleur opened her mouth to reply but heard it click shut when her mother raised a hand.

"There isn't a day that goes by that I don't thank whatever magic brought your father and me together. I was extremely fortunate that he is an excellent father to you girls and a partner to me. I was not so blinded by excitement that I would have overlooked cruelty or negligence, but I would likely have looked over things that would have shown us to be incompatible, had they been present."

"Why are you telling me this?" Fleur asked uncertainly, finding herself uncomfortable with the turn their conversation had taken. "Harry and I...we're not...it's nothing like you and Papa. He's my friend, and he needs me."

Apolline sighed and shifted direction. Fleur was as blunt as could be and seldom looked for any deeper meaning unless she felt so inclined.

"I've made a mess of this conversation, and I'm sorry," Apolline said, shifting on the bed so she was completely facing Fleur. "To put it simply, I have seen you lose control of your powers at least twice this summer, and both times were concerning Harry. I am happy you two have met, and I am proud of you for doing what it took to ensure his safety." She smiled in an attempt to take any sting from her words. "Don't let just one friend blind you to all your opportunities. I know this is a special case, but with determination, he will get through this to the point where there is nothing more we can do for him. Most people have more than one friend. He does, and I simply don't want you to limit yourself in the future."

"I...understand," Fleur answered, attempting to keep the utter confusion from her face.

"I only ask that you keep what I've said in mind. I am not trying to discourage your friendship in any way, just that you manage yourself, and your expectations appropriately."

"I will Maman," Fleur said, as she knew was expected.

"Thank you," Apolline said, the weight of the conversation almost visibly sliding off her shoulders.

Fleur excused herself and left her mother to pick up the fallen dresses. She gently closed the door with a soft click, her mind already made up.

To absolute hell with all that.

Some of the only times Harry had volunteered his thoughts to her had been to express appreciation to her for always believing him, and always supporting him. She wasn't about to withdraw some of herself just in case.

Both Harry and her sister must have noticed her foul mood as she strode up to their game of wizarding chess in the parlor. Even from a cursory glance, she could see Harry was already the clear victor.

"You are quite good," Fleur said as she approached, hoping to relieve some of their worries. "Gabrielle often bests me when we play. She has always liked the game."

"It's one of Ron's favorites," Harry explained. She felt the dip in his mood as he mentioned his 'friend.' His fairweather friend did little to help her mood, instead serving as more fuel for her angry fire. "It's come to the point where Hermione and I just try to last as long as possible now."

"How is Hermione?" Fleur asked, attempting to divert her growing irritation.

"I'm not sure," Harry answered, deftly trapping Gabrielle's queen in a fork. "She'd probably be happy if you wrote to her. She seems like the letter-writing sort."

" I am the letter-writing sort," Fleur teased, taking a seat in a nearby chair. "You could write to her as well."

Harry's hand froze above his knight.

"I can't," he answered quietly, before grabbing the knight and setting him next to Gabrielle's bishop. The little animated horseback rider smashed the marble bishop to pieces before triumphantly taking his new position.

"Why not?" Gabrielle asked, her words heavily accented. Her English had been rough at the beginning of the summer, but her desire to be able to talk with Harry had progressed her skill significantly in the short time he'd been staying with them.

"It's a secret," Fleur interjected as Harry's face took on a panicked look.

Gabrielle smiled slyly. "You 'ave a... engouement? "

Harry turned to look questioningly at Fleur, who matched her sister's smile.

"A crush," Fleur explained, her mirth changing to surprise as she felt his sense shift from confusion to pure shock.

"No!" Harry answered truthfully, waving his hands protectively in front of him, glancing over to Fleur before turning back to Gabrielle. "It's not like that. She's just one of my friends."

Fleur saw the doubt in Gabrielle's eyes and decided to rescue Harry before the teasing became too much.

"I believe you," she said. "Gabrielle, you should hurry up and lose. It is getting late."

Gabrielle made a face at her sister, but it was interrupted by a large yawn. Fleur was sure she heard a curse slip out from under her sister's breath, but decided not to mention anything.

"You're right," Gabrielle said to Fleur, shrugging. "Good game," she said to Harry in English. She smiled at him, and stood, excusing herself.

"It is getting late," Harry agreed, leaning back as he stretched.

"Do you mind if we talk for a bit?" Fleur asked tentatively. She was surprised at how nervous the request made her. Had her mother really gotten to her despite her decision to ignore what she'd said?

"No," Harry answered simply, letting his arms drop.

Fleur sat across from him as the chess pieces finished reassembling themselves, and returning to their starting positions.

"I am sorry," Fleur said finally. "I let it slip to my mother that I was able to sense your emotions while we were in there. You and I have not discussed who you are comfortable knowing about it, and I was already not able to keep it a secret."

Harry sat still for a moment, his sense was thankfully contemplative, not angry. Fleur nervously chewed her lip, resisting the urge to pull her hair over her shoulder.

"It's okay I suppose," he said finally. "Now that the...erm...big secret...is out, at least with your parents, I don't think there's much reason to keep something like this from them." He paused. "It won't be much of a problem when I go back to Hogwarts, will it? We won't really see each other while I'm there."

"Until Christmas," Fleur reminded him. "I have also been thinking about that a little bit." She decided she wouldn't mention that 'a little bit' actually meant 'nearly every night.'

"I will be interning at the Ministry during that time," Fleur continued. Harry had been quite put out to find she had put her internship on hold to be home while he was there, and it had taken quite a bit of convincing to make him see it was okay. "I was thinking that I could come by during some of your Hogsmeade weekends to visit."

Any nervousness she'd felt about the idea vanished when she felt the bloom of excitement in him.

"That sounds great!"

Again Harry was privy to Fleur's truly brilliant smile, pushing away any embarrassment he felt from his instant reply.

"I am glad," Fleur replied, before letting her smile fall as her mother's words began to surface again. "I also wanted to check in with you to see how you are doing." She'd be damned if she let anything get her way when it came to helping him get better.

"I'm good," Harry said slowly, though she felt his sense drop significantly from excitement to introspection. "There's not a lot I can do until the hearing. I like it a lot here. It's been the best summer I've ever had."

Fleur felt the simple truth of his words echoed by his emotions, and it broke her heart. How could less than a month of normal days, walks in the woods, and by the lake so swiftly become someone's best summer of their life?

Fleur felt her determination solidify inside her as she returned Harry's shy smile. No matter what her mother said she would help Harry down his path as best she could, or die trying.

Her righteous feelings stalled as the reality of her thoughts settled on her. To 'die trying' was a possibility for Harry, and for her as well, should she actively help him with the supposed likelihood of Voldemort coming to finish what he started, and to do what he failed to do in the graveyard…

"What about Voldemort?" Fleur asked suddenly. They'd not spoken much on their time together in the graveyard. Fleur knew she wanted to talk more about it, but wasn't sure how to broach Harry's near certainty that he wasn't going to survive, nor his distressing lack of concern.

A select few of her mother's words shifted into frightening clarity, and Fleur felt tears begin threatening to fall. She remembered the hushed tones and euphemisms used around children during funerals, their meaning only decoded when examined through memory during adulthood.

What happened to Nolan had been a tragedy, but no accident.

"Fleur?" Harry's voice broke her from her runaway thoughts, suddenly making her aware of the wave of concern that was issuing from him. For the first time, she wished someone else could read her the way she could read him. Maybe then he'd understand.

"Yes?" she said quickly, attempting to collect herself. "I am sorry. What did you say?"

"You asked me about Voldemort, then just sorta...spaced out."

"I know, I am sorry," she repeated, trying to muster a reassuring smile. "I was just...thinking about it."

"I understand," he said, returning her smile briefly before pressing on. "There's not much I can do about him. Dumbledore said he'd work with me, but he'd barely talk to me when I saw him. Maybe something will change when I get back to Hogwarts. Even then, I don't know how I'd stand up to a so-called "dark lord." I'm just some fifth year."

"You're not just some fifth year, and you won't ever have to do it alone," Fleur said vehemently, willing her words to carry her determination along with them. He had to understand that he was important. Even if he didn't believe it himself at first, she'd believe it enough for both of them.

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

Fleur awoke in a cold sweat, her long hair plastered to her face and chest. Her breath came fast and ragged as she automatically swiped her hair from her mouth.

That was new.

She tried to shake off the new horrifying nightmare her subconscious had so kindly constructed for her. The heavy thud of Harry's body hitting the ground in front of her echoed alongside her screams; fading slowly as she finally woke fully.

She got out of bed and threw on the robe she'd draped atop her desk chair. Sliding her door quietly open, she was met by the worried face and raised hand of her sister.

"You were screaming again," Gabrielle said quietly, dropping her hand to her side. "It was pretty bad."

"I'm sorry for waking you," Fleur said, pulling her sister into a hug. Warmth filled her as she held onto Gabrielle, the feeling of a solid person helping to chase away the horrible fantasy of her nightmare.

"What's going on?" Gabrielle asked, her voice muffled by Fleur's thick robe. "You've been having nightmares ever since you got back from school, and now Harry's suddenly staying with us after all you could think about was how important the letters you were sending him could be. Why won't anybody tell me anything?"

Fleur squeezed her sister tight, then held her back at arm's length and met her gaze.

"I will talk with Maman and Papa tomorrow to see what they think," Fleur promised. "What has been giving me nightmares...is a tremendous burden. I think it should be up to you if it is something you want to know, but I think I should ask them first, and get their opinion as well."

"That's not-"

"Gabrielle," Fleur interrupted with a smile. "You know me. If I thought our parents were just being patronizing about your age, I'd tell you in a heartbeat, so please trust me when I say it's so important that I need their input."

Gabrielle nodded, though Fleur could see the reluctance behind her agreement.

"As for Harry...well...it's his business. He may tell you someday, but I can't say."

Gabrielle nodded again, her dissatisfaction with Fleur's answers clear as day.

"Are you okay, though?" Gabrielle asked, her irritation melting back into genuine concern. "You never did this before this summer."

"I will be, baby sister," Fleur reassured her with a smile and pulled her in for another hug.

"I'm not a baby," Gabrielle protested into Fleur's robe, though her tight grip betrayed her true focus.

"I know," Fleur said, "and I promise I'll talk to our parents tomorrow."

"Okay," said Gabrielle, turning back towards her room as she disentangled herself from Fleur's arms. "I don't know how I'm supposed to get any sleep now though," she grumbled as she plodded back down the carpeted hall to her room.

Fleur gave her sister one more smile as she passed, and continued to the end of the hall and down the stairs. She'd discovered a secret love of midnight snacks to settle her stomach after a particularly bad nightmare, and hoped there were some blueberries left for her to eat.

Fleur walked slowly down the stairs, her feet automatically leading her to the kitchen while her mind wandered. A clang from the kitchen froze her in her tracks, startling her from her thoughts. She crept around the corner from the small family dining room to find Harry elbow deep in bubbly steaming water.

"Harry?"

He jumped and whirled to face her, shock written all over his face, but in his sense she felt...shame?

"Harry? Is everything all right?"

He quickly pulled his arms from the water and turned away from her, drying them on a towel he had placed nearby. He turned back to her, an attempted smile in place. She frowned as the emotions she felt from him screamed desperation along with pieces of others she couldn't yet decipher.

"I'm okay," he said weakly, counter to the turmoil emanating from him. "I couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd familiarize myself with the kitchen for tomorrow. I wasn't really able to find what I need for a pie crust, but it's mostly the same as a cottage pie crust, so we'll probably be fine. I was just doing some washing up, it's normally quiet, and makes me feel better."

Fleur fought to keep the frown from her face as Harry babbled, his emotions putting the lie to almost every word he spoke. Despite the short time she'd been able to sense what he was feeling, she could tell something was very wrong. An undercurrent in his emotions; down low, where she would normally feel anger or hatred, but it was neither...or both? She brought herself back to the conversation, where Harry stood, for all the world like a trapped animal who wanted to flee.

"Harry," she said gently, taking a step forward. She froze as he flinched back slightly, before mastering himself with a grimace, the undercurrent swelling in size as he did so.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, moving his arms behind his back as he stood, fidgeting.

"It is okay," Fleur said gently, trying another slow step forward. She stopped when she saw the muscles in his neck tighten and his jaw clench, panic rising in his sense before being quickly suppressed.

"I'm sorry," he said again, his eyes quickly shifting over to the sink before lowering to the ground.

Fleur felt like she was floundering, about to drown in the waves of emotion coming from Harry. How could one person feel so much so intensely all at once? Could she even help?

She steeled herself and tried to calm down. If she were going to be there for him, like she'd told her mother she would be, it was times like these that he needed her most, not just the pleasant and calm walks they'd enjoyed together around the grounds.

"I know everything is not okay," she began gently. "Remember?"

She both saw and felt the panic rise alongside the mysterious undercurrent before he flushed red in embarrassment.

"I just want to help you," she continued. "With whatever is going on." She knew it had been her consistency and honesty that had helped him open up to her, maybe the same could help him now. "What can I do?"

Instead of answering, Fleur felt Harry delve into more thoughts that caused his sense to whirl tumultuously around. She saw his shoulders sag, as though some incredible weight he carried was wearing him down.

"I don't know," he whispered, pulling one of his arms from behind his back to run through his messy hair. Fleur barely stopped the gasp that attempted to escape when she saw the bright red skin of his arms, burned slightly from just above his elbows, all the way down to his fingertips. She viciously grabbed hold of her thoughts, refusing to allow the images of Harry floating into the medical tent to surface.

"Are you hurt?" she asked, proud of how steady she managed to keep her voice.

Harry started, guilt quickly flashing through his sense as he dropped his arm back to his side.

"The water was too hot," he mumbled.

"Our water does get hotter than normal. It takes hotter water than is standard for Veela to have warm baths or showers. We should have warned you. I am sorry."

Harry nodded, a sense of relief briefly piercing his jumbled feelings. If he didn't want to address whatever had happened directly, she wouldn't push him, no matter how much his sense told her there was far more to what happened.

"Do you...want a hug?" Fleur asked, unsure of how to continue. "That usually helps me, when something is wrong."

Harry looked up at her in surprise.

"You've never...hugged me before, or even asked for one," he said slowly, as though just thinking were taking tremendous effort.

"You...did not seem to be the type who liked to be touched," Fleur explained. "Whenever I saw you, I noticed you going out of your way to avoid contact."

She saw Harry blush deeply and felt the embarrassment that followed. She left unsaid that she now understood why.

"I am a very tactile person, Harry," Fleur explained. "I can get it genuinely from so few places that it has become very important to me."

"I want to be," Harry said, his voice barely audible. "It's just so hard to relax."

"Would it help if I promised that I will never hold on longer than you want me to? You can let go whenever you need to, and I will always ask before hugging you, no matter how badly I may want one."

Harry just nodded, though he made no move to step forward.

"I am also likely very warm," Fleur found herself saying. Though her tone was light, she was beginning to grow desperate to comfort him in any way she could. "My body temperature is quite a lot higher than yours."

She saw a small nervous smile float across Harry's face as a sense of embarrassment warred with his nerves. He took a jerky step forward and she opened her arms, a sense of relief washing away most of the nervous energy inside her. She'd lost count of the number of times she'd had the impulse to embrace her friend, only to stop short for fear of pushing him away. She wrapped her arms around him as he laid his head on her shoulder. His arms wrapped around her middle, their jerky movements betraying his nerves.

She stood still, warmth blooming inside her as she felt another wall between them slowly fall. She felt him tremble slightly in her arms and heard him swallow as he began to pull away. She let her arms fall, allowing him to step back, as she'd promised.

"Thank you," he said quietly, his eyes only briefly darting up to meet hers, before dropping back to his feet. "I'm going to try to get some more sleep. Goodnight, Fleur,"

"Goodnight, Harry," Fleur said, a strange thrill pulsing through her as he said her name. He so rarely said it, and when he did, it sounded different to how everyone else she knew said it. His English accent somehow made it feel like a nickname.

Fleur watched him turn the corner towards the stairs, and nearly collapsed as she felt the tension leave her body. She walked over to the sink and pulled the stopper to allow the water to drain. She dipped a finger in experimentally, her eyes widening as she felt water hot enough to be drawn for her bath. She frowned at the spot Harry vacated, an uncomfortable but unidentifiable pit forming deep in her stomach.

Harry lay in bed, his body still feeling oddly cold, despite the large blankets covering his bed. He hadn't expected it to be so difficult to take those few steps into Fleur's embrace, but he'd been glad he did. He'd always wanted to hug people like everyone else did; normally and without any anxiety. But his only experiences had been Hermione's tackles or Mrs. Weasley's tremendous bear hugs.

It'd been difficult...but not as hard as he'd expected to cross the distance to Fleur, despite the panic and shame he'd felt upon her arrival. The Dursleys never cared if he filled the sink with too-hot water, only caring if the job got done, but despite everything, he still had trouble remembering he wasn't there anymore, and he hated himself for not letting the Delacour's kindness be enough. He rolled over, trying to focus instead on the gentle feeling of Fleur's arms around his shoulders. He had felt his wound-tight nerves finally begin to release once he'd grown used to the hug, and had felt a lump begin to form in his throat. He'd pulled away, and all but sprinted from the kitchen, not wanted Fleur to see a complete breakdown.

But…she had been very warm.

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

"I would assume that you are not interested in being here, is that correct?"

"You're damn sure it's correct. I've survived on my own for years," Sirius growled from his place by the window. "I didn't need a mind healer to get through that, and I sure as hell don't now that it's over with!"

"Nothing is keeping you here," Phillip Jacobson said in his irritatingly calm voice. Sirius was sure he was just doing it to be spiteful now. "Nobody can force this on you, then it wouldn't work. But, if you want your title and Wizengamot privileges back, then I have to be able to clear you."

"To hell with House Black," Sirius grumbled, storming from the large office at the top of St. Mungos. He didn't need the same Ministry that had locked him in Azkaban to dictate what he had to do to live the rest of his life. He'd figure out a way to get his title and get guardianship of Harry as he'd promised, but he'd do it on his terms.

Maybe he'd take a page out of the book of Malfoy and grease certain wheels with some golden oil. What was the point of being ridiculously wealthy if you couldn't have some fun?