"What in the hell was that, Potter?" shouted Angelina. Her voice broke out over the hushed silence that had fallen over the veteran Gryffindor players. Even the hopefuls had quieted as Harry heavily dismounted his broom, the snitch finally clutched in his hand.

"I don't think it's ever taken you that long to catch the snitch," she said, squeezing the bridge of her nose. "I don't think it's taken you that long in any three games combined."

Harry looked down at the snitch. The wings fluttered their familiar pattern between his fingers, but that was the only thing that seemed familiar. He stared at the fingers clutching the small golden ball. They were too long and too big to be his own. He shifted his weight on too-long legs, gripping his new firebolt tightly in his other hand. It hadn't been the broom. He knew better. Everything about him felt off when he had been soaring through the air, chasing after the snitch.

When he had first climbed on the broom and flown around the Quidditch pitch in a slow, leisurely lap, nothing had felt more natural than being in the air again. But once he'd gotten up to speed, pushing the Firebolt near to its max, he had come apart. Every turn he tried to make was too wide, every roll too loose. He had nearly dismounted himself on a hairpin turn he had done a thousand times in practice, his momentum nearly carrying him off the broom. It had taken him almost an hour to catch the snitch, a sheer stubborn will to catch the damn golden ball the only thing keeping him from calling it quits.

"Ginny was good," Angeline continued, exasperated. "But you should've been…"

Harry winced. He knew how he should have been.

"Come on now Angel," Fred placated, his demeanor far more serious than his usual. "It's been over a year since we've had practice. Maybe he's just-"

Angelina whirled to face her boyfriend, pressing one angry finger solidly into his sternum.

"Don't you 'Angel' me on the pitch," she growled, before whirling to face Harry, though her frustration seemed to have given way to resignation.

"Listen, Potter, we have a little while until our first game, so if you can shape up before then, and prove it, the spot's yours. Otherwise Ginny will be our starting seeker this year."

Harry nodded mutely, squeezing the snitch tightly to stun it, before tossing it over to her. He strode quickly towards the locker room, Ron hot on his heels.

"What happened out there, mate?" Ron asked as Harry swore, the nosepiece of his glasses scratching the bridge of his nose as he roughly pulled his jersey over his head. He put a finger up to his nose, and held it close to his face, squinting, and saw the tip tinted red with blood.

"My body's changed," Harry grumbled, fishing his glasses out from the folds of his jersey.

"Well-I mean," Ron said, coughing loudly. "We've all…"

"Not that you berk," Harry said, wiping the remaining blood from his nose with a thumb, "the potions. My center of gravity is different and I weigh more now. The way I have to handle the broom is different from before. I have to bank harder and earlier if I want to turn properly. I have to put on speed much sooner to come out of a hairpin without stacking it." He sighed, staring at the Firebolt where it sat on one of the benches. "I might as well have to learn to fly all over again."

Ron stood in silence for a moment, following Harry's gaze to the resting broom.

"So what are you going to do?" he asked.

"I don't know," Harry replied, his voice pensive. "There's going to be a lot for me to do this year, especially once I'm learning from Dumbledore. Even if I weren't having trouble flying, how could I justify spending time at Quidditch practice when I could be getting stronger."

"But Harry," said Ron, "it's Quidditch."

"It's my friends," Harry corrected, finally turning to face Ron. "And it's Moody. How many people are going to get hurt or die because of me? I won't sit by and watch someone suffer because of me. Not anymore."

Ron stared at his friend, at his burning green eyes, and the thin line of blood running from the side of his nose down to the corner of his mouth. Where Ron had once been over a head taller than Harry, now the gap had lessened significantly. Changes indeed.

"Is it because of what happened when You-Know-Who came back?" Ron asked quietly. Both he and Hermione had spent a fair amount of their time patrolling the halls discussing their friend. The obviously abbreviated version of events in the graveyard had been one such topic.

Harry nodded slowly, and Ron noticed his eyes grow distant.

"He made me watch while he tortured her because I wouldn't duel him. I was close enough that I could have touched her, but the body bind made it so I could only watch." He shuddered, and some of the haunted shadows left his visage. He glanced back over to his Firebolt. "That's why I can't spend the time it would take to re-learn how to properly fly."

Harry looked back to Ron, whose freckles stood out in stark contrast to his pale face. He saw determination building behind his friend's blue eyes as Ron opened his mouth to speak.

"Then I won't try out for keeper either," Ron said, wincing as he did so.

"You don't have to do that," said Harry, surprised. "I'm the one that has to train with Dumbledore, not you."

"But you're going to show us what he showed you," Ron countered. "Besides, as much as you don't want your friends hurt, we don't want you hurt either."

Harry smiled wanly at Ron's unintentional imitation of Fleur. Ron grinned back and pointed to the Firebolt.

"Besides, you can always pick it up again after everything is over and done with!"

"Yeah," Harry agreed, lifting the broom from where it lay and leaving the locker rooms to find Angelina. "After."

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

News, as usual, spread quickly through the castle, and by the time their defense "class" came around again, the gossip had even reached the faculty. Following another read-along class, this time about the origins of counter-curses, Harry was again asked to stay behind by the squat Professor.

"Have you considered my offer any further, Mr. Potter?" She asked, her mask of friendliness firmly in place. "I heard the unfortunate news that you weren't quite up to the team's standards this year. Perhaps you would like to fill that time in your schedule with something a little more fulfilling?"

Harry opened his mouth to retort, but Umbridge barrelled on, a fervent gleam in her eye.

"In fact, I was just speaking with the Minister this morning through the floo, and he's expressed an interest in giving you a personal tour of the Ministry. He's been so busy after coming back from his small vacation just before the new term started, bless him."

Harry could think of little he'd like less than to spend the day paraded around the Ministry next to Fudge like some sort of trophy.

Umbridge leaned forward, her false voice dropping to a conspiratorial one.

"I am not an unreasonable person," she said. "It's well known how close you are to Mr. Weasley and that girl. How about you see if he wants to join my group along with you? Our goal is to not only provide some order to this chaotic school but also to help you create inter-house contacts with other people of your...significant status. I do, however, recognize that it can be nice to have a friendly face to help through difficult transitions. What do you say?"

"I'll have to think about it, Professor," Harry replied.

"Well, I expect a favorable answer shortly," Umbridge said, rising from her chair and fixing Harry with a stern glare. "It's not every day someone is handed the honor of rubbing shoulders with the Ministry's elite."

"I'll keep that in mind, Ma'am."

"See that you do," she said, again waving him away in dismissal.

Harry did his best not to sprint from the room, meeting up with Ron and Hermione, who were waiting just outside the door.

"Is she still trying to recruit you for that mystery group of hers?" Hermione asked as the three of them started jogging in the direction of the dungeons.

"Yeah," said Harry, popping open a painting that hid a shortcut to the potions hall. "She's trying harder now too. Offering personal tours by the Minister to try and convince me."

Ron laughed, the sound echoing down the dark narrow passage.

"As though you need Umbridge's help for that. I bet if you wrote to the Minister he'd come running. Dad says the only thing he cares about is appearances, and if he were seen being chummy with you, it'd only help him out."

Harry stayed silent as they slipped out the exit, and into the potions classroom just before they were tardy. He doubted the Minister would be quite so pleased with him when Dumbledore finally presented the facts of Voldemort's return.

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

She keeps trying to recruit me into some group she's starting. She's dangling trips to visit the Minister in front of me along with vague mentions of it all helping me out in the future. I can't figure out what she wants out of it.

Be careful. I asked Papa about her, and he had nothing good to say. She is probably telling the truth about being able to get you to the Minister. He said she works closely with your Minister and was a big part of blocking his investigation for the ICW into your godfather's trial. Be careful around her, please.

If I do get dragged to the Ministry, at least I could come to visit you and Mr. Weasley at the DMLE.

You would be a welcome distraction. You would likely see your headmaster as well. He has worked with me often since we moved on to the filing stages of the process. Have you started your lessons with him yet?

Our first one is tomorrow. I'm glad he chose Sunday mornings so it won't get in the way of the Hogsmeade visit next week.

As am I. I would not have thought that the excitement of living alone would go hand in hand with a pervasive sense of loneliness when I floo home to an empty apartment.

Fleur set her quill down on her desk and looked out into the darkness. The lights of the city twinkled off in the distance, small luminescent reminders that she could no longer look out her window to see the forest. She shivered and picked up her wand from where it rested next to her on the edge of her small sofa. With a quick flick and mumble, the glowing embers sprang back to life, pushing a warm gust of air at her back. She made a mental note to purchase a number of blankets and flannel pajamas for the drafty living room before the temperature dropped any further.

She leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms over her head as she looked around the still rather spartan room. The small living room only held her grey sofa against the wall to her left and the desk from her room opposite the fireplace. She looked to her right, taking in the large white wall and empty floor space. In the corner next to her desk were two small alcoves, built into the wall. She smiled, a picture of her Christmas decorations forming in her mind. A flicker of movement caught her eye, and she turned back to the paper, reading Harry's reply as he wrote to her from all the way up in Scotland.

I'm sorry you're feeling lonely. I wish I could help.

It is okay. I think homesickness is just a part of moving out.

She yawned and blinked quickly, her eyes refusing to focus on her paper.

I am sorry, but I am exhausted. Let me know how your meeting with your Headmaster goes tomorrow. Goodnight Harry.

Goodnight Fleur.

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

Harry mechanically shoveled his breakfast into his mouth, his stomach doing yet another nervous revolution. Even though he had been looking forward to learning from Professor Dumbledore since the beginning of term, now that the day was upon him, he felt like he had forgotten every spell he had ever known.

He automatically reached for more food, his fork nearly skewering another sausage when he noticed, to his pleasant surprise, he was already full. He set his fork down, again staring at his vaguely familiar hand as he brought it back to his lap. The potions had certainly done their job, he just hoped he'd feel like himself again soon. It would be hard to make a good showing of himself for the Headmaster if he tripped all over himself.

He looked up when the dull hum of conversation around him picked up in excitement. The morning post flew into the Great Hall, Hedwig swooping down from the front. Harry saw a package clutched in her talons and his shoulders sagged in relief. She landed delicately on the spot Harry cleared for her, stepped gingerly off the bulky package, and bent down to grab a piece of bacon off Ron's nearby plate.

"Oy!"

"Sorry girl," Harry said, reaching to grab Hedwig's customary reward. He set the bacon strips on the table at her feet and pulled the attached letter from the package.

"'Sorry Ron,' more like," he grumbled, replacing his stolen breakfast as Harry opened the letter.

Harry,

I hope this is what you were looking for. It's as close as I could find that matched your idea. I think she'll like it, in fact, I bought myself one. It's drafty in this big empty house, and it'll be welcome once the winter weather rolls in.

I also checked with Madam Malkin while I was out about your Christmas present idea. She said she can do the fabric, but the enchantments are beyond her. She actually suggested you talk to Professor Flitwick first, and if that doesn't work out, she gave me one other name.

I'm glad the Delacours invited us over for Christmas. Don't get me wrong, I'd have enjoyed the evening with just you and me, but this house isn't exactly Jolly. Any ideas on gifts? I've already gotten some scotch for Sebastian, but I have no idea what to get Apolline, Gabrielle, or Fleur.

Let me know how your lesson with Dumbledore goes!

-Sirius

P.S. Jacobson says things are going well. It's too early to tell if I'll be cleared before the end of the school year, but I'll keep working on it! I'll keep you updated.

Harry tucked away the letter, a smile tugging at his lips. It was the most normal letter from his godfather he had ever received. No mention of evading the ministry, or of clandestine meetings in a collapsing shack. No mention of abnormal school years or of dark wizards. Just gifts and Christmas time.

"A nice letter?" Hermione asked, eyeing the package curiously.

"A normal letter," answered Harry as he stood, grabbing the package as he did so. "It's Fleur's birthday on Tuesday, and she'll be here for Hogsmeade this weekend. I had to ask Sirius to pick her up something."

"Harry, why didn't you tell me?!" Hermione fretted, her eyes widening in panic. "Maybe I could get her something in the village and give it to her when she's leaving."

"I remember her saying she's got a sweet tooth. She likes chocolate."

"I'm not sure Honeydukes will have any sweets to match what she's used to if she often has French chocolates," said Hermione, wringing her hands together.

"I don't think that'll matter," Harry said with a parting smile. "I've got to go drop this off, then meet with the Headmaster."

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

After nearly two months of waiting, Harry was sure he couldn't be more ready to learn whatever it was Dumbledore had to teach him. He would finally be able to learn to protect the people he cared about.

He'd walked purposefully through the halls after dropping of Fleur's gift in Gryffindor Tower. He had given the gargoyle the password and taken the stairs up to the Headmaster's office two at a time, and then he had frozen...just outside the large wooden door.

His hand was raised to knock, held motionless in the air as he tried to swallow back his sudden anxiety. Quiet hateful whispers flitted through his mind, pulling up with them his most unwanted memories.

The burning agony as his hand touched the face of a terror he knew, but could not remember.

The basilisk fang piercing his arm, the fire that raged forth from the wound lessened by an acceptance of death.

A cloud of dementors surrounding him and his unconscious godfather, their unnatural power paralyzing him within his own memories.

Voldemort's pale hate-filled face, thrusting his wand forward, nightmarish green light streaking towards him.

His traitorous mouth, repeating what had become his name: 'worthless'.

And piercing through each memory; a noise just beyond hearing. A sound that sank into his bones to fill in the holes the Cruciatus had burned away. Her screams as she suffered, because of him.

His hand fell hard onto the wood of the Headmaster's door, breaking him from the waking nightmares.

"Come in, Harry," came Dumbledore's voice, escorting Harry fully back to the present, his hair wet and matted with sweat. He stumbled through the door and collapsed in the large comfortable chair in the middle of the room.

The Headmaster stood in front of his desk, wand in hand. With two quick twitches of his wrist, the door to the office slid closed. Harry looked up into Dumbledore's wizened face to find little of the friendly smiles he'd seen throughout the years instead finding a focus and purpose that seemed to give an unknowable shape to the experiences of his past.

"I am sorry for that test," he said, "but it was necessary."

Harry could only look up in confusion, his breath still coming ragged and shallow.

"I will explain. Alastor taught you a number of spells that you were eventually able to cast with a great deal of success."

Harry nodded, his confusion growing.

"He and I were of...opposing magical methods...if you will. He taught you a spell, and you attempted to cast it until you successfully performed the magic. From there, you learned how the spell felt in order to cast it with greater efficiency."

Harry nodded again, his breathing slowly returning to normal.

"I believe that it is, in the long run, more effective to focus on yourself, than on the spell."

"What do you mean, Professor?" Harry asked, bewildered.

"Magic is, undeniably, about the intent of the user. It is the reason I can stand here and say the words, 'Avada Kedavra' and neither of us falls to the floor, dead. It is the reason you cannot successfully cast a Cruciatus without hatred boiling inside you. It is why if you are not paying attention when you apparate, you will be splinched. It is why if you are unfocused, or distracted, proper magic becomes unpredictable or impossible. Alastor preferred to focus on the spell first, and the intention later. It is a faster method of learning than mine, and it is also the method we use in classes here at Hogwarts. You have experienced the rudimentary principle of what I am describing already."

"I have?"

"Can you not think of a time when you noticed significantly different effects based upon your focus and intention?"

"The shield charm," answered Harry, his eyes widening.

"Precisely," said Dumbledore. "Forgive me, but do you understand why the charm could not protect you but was able to create an impenetrable wall to protect your friends?"

Harry hadn't had the opportunity to give the charm much thought. Not long after that lesson with Moody had been the third task...and everything that had followed.

He thought for a moment and considered everything Dumbledore had said. If magic was all about intention, then what had he intended to do?

"The shield protected Ron and Hermione because I didn't want to see my friends hurt again."

"Indeed," Dumbledore said, nodding. "Though the verbiage is somewhat incorrect. Do you recall what you were thinking of as you cast that spell?"

Harry nodded, the memory of Fleur's lifeless body still weighing heavy on his shoulders.

"What was it?" Dumbledore asked gently.

"It was about all the times my friends have been hurt, and I couldn't help them. I wanted to make sure they were never in danger again."

"We are getting much closer," Dumbledore said. "Do you see the difference? One is a desire, the other a determination. 'I don't want my friends to be hurt.' 'I will not let my friends be hurt.' Magic is will made reality.

"That is the reason for the barrier, Harry," said Dumbledore. "It was a small test of will. I know you possess a tremendous amount of willpower to have suffered as you did without losing yourself."

Harry shifted uncomfortably but did not vocalize his disagreement.

"No?" Dumbledore asked, seeing through his silence. "A more tangible example then. Do you know how many members of the faculty I would expect to be able to overpower an Imperius"

Harry shook his head, his face heating.

"Three; Professors McGonagall, Snape, and myself. You possess the capability for incredible feats of willpower, but the true test is not in those moments of intense struggle between two wizards, but in the passage of time.

"In our lessons, we will not only be discussing spells but how to focus your mind in order to perform each spell as effectively as possible. Are you prepared to do what is necessary?"

"I'll do whatever it takes to protect my friends," Harry said, sitting up straighter in the chair.

Dumbledore paused, then conjured a chair opposite Harry with a quick wave of his wand. He slowly sat in the cushioned armchair, grunting as he lowered himself down. He stared at Harry, his normally lively blue eyes clouded in thought.

"While keeping your friends from harm is certainly a laudable goal, " Dumbledore said after a moment, "it is unlikely to be an attainable one. It is absolutely imperative that you understand this."

"But...why, Sir?" Harry asked.

"Because of the caliber of people you surround yourself with, Harry," Dumbledore explained. "Though I do not doubt that you will find more friends in your time here, your three closest friends would not allow you into conflict on your own if it were at all in their power to stand beside you."

"I just don't want them to get hurt because of me," Harry said quietly.

"There is a vast difference between getting hurt because of your actions, and getting hurt because they are helping you. Put yourself in their place. Would it not tear you apart to be forced to stand idly by as they put themselves in danger to protect you?"

Harry nodded, feeling the blood drain from his face.

"They, of course, feel the same way about you. You cannot take that choice from them."

Harry frowned, every fiber of his being rebelling at the thought of the people he cared about being in danger for him.

"I just…" he began but was stopped by Dumbledore's raised hand.

"I understand, Harry. I do. It will take some time, and some work to overcome those feelings. We will talk about that later. For now, allow me to show you where we will be having our lessons after today."

"We won't be doing it in here, Sir?" Harry asked, surprised.

Dumbledore smiled and held his arms out.

"There are quite a few items in my office that I would not like to see exposed to spellfire." He lifted himself to his feet, both hands pushing on the arms of the chair. "Please, follow me. We will be going to the seventh floor."

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

That evening, Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat in three chairs inside a room that appeared to be kilometers long. They had experimented with the room upon arrival, Harry showing his friends the configurations Dumbledore had shown him during their lesson. At Hermione's insistence, they had stood close together and had requested a room that was as long as possible. They watched wide eyes as the room had shifted around them, one end of the room vanishing, resulting in a massive corridor, the ceiling supported by pillars that went back further than the eye could see.

"You didn't work on any spells?" Ron asked, settling into one of the three large chairs they had requested of the room.

Harry shook his head.

"Not this time. He talked a lot about willpower, and how it's used to make spells more effective."

Harry saw Hermione's eyes light up where Ron sagged slightly in disappointment.

"So the more you concentrate and focus, the stronger the spell?" She said. "That's something I've always wondered about. You can be mechanically perfect with your wand motions and intonations, but sometimes the result will still vary. Especially in transfiguration."

"I think it's a little bit more than that," Harry said. "Remember the shield spell with Moody? He said it's a mix of determination and will. It's not enough to just want it."

Hermione nodded, before shooting a quick glance over to Ron.

"I've been thinking, Harry," she said slowly. "What do you think about showing more than just the two of us what you're learning?"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked. "Does somebody else want to join us?"

"Not yet," said Hermione. "We haven't told anybody about this, but if we did…" she trailed off, her frown deepening. "The Minister is stonewalling the Headmaster, and defense this year is the worst it's ever been. Shouldn't we be doing something to prepare now that You-Know-Who is back? You could even see if Sirius has any other books you can borrow. I'll bet he would agree that we've got to do something."

Harry looked over to Ron, who shrugged and nodded.

"I think it's a good idea," Ron said. "Everyone is talking about how Umbridge is the worst yet. I'll bet we'd get at least a few people in here with us."

"I'm not sure I'd be a good teacher," said Harry.

"Better than Umbridge," Ron said. Hermione nodded in agreement.

"And you don't have to be really. Something is better than nothing right? It'd almost be like a study group," she said.

"I guess so," said Harry. He pulled his glasses from his face and rubbed his eyes. "Maybe I can get Fleur to help. Honestly, she'd probably jump at the chance to teach people to defend themselves. She can't stand it when the people that are supposed to be protecting you just let the bad things happen."

"Like the tournament," Hermione whispered.

"What about her whole...y'know...allure. We can't learn anything if we're just staring slack-jawed at her," Ron said.

"That's true," Harry said slowly. "We'll figure something out. Maybe it'll just be another she shows me and I show you. I don't know. Every little bit will help people out, right? There's not much choice."

"We should probably wait a little bit to put the word out," said Hermione. "Umbridge is really pushing that group of hers, and I'm wondering if we shouldn't see what she's got planned before we start secret classes."

"What's she going to do," Ron scoffed, "expel us for having a study group?"

"She might," Hermione said. She bit her lip. "We should probably play it safe. Just keep an ear out for people who talk about how unhappy they are about this year's defense class. We might be able to talk to them later."

"If we do it that way we'll have the whole school in here!" Ron nearly shouted.

"Well, all the same, be paying attention."

Anything else she was going to say was interrupted by a large yawn.

"I'm going to head back. I want to try this room out some more, but I don't really want to draw attention to it either. I'm going to try and think of a plan to get people here, just in case we do have a lot of people wanting to show up."

Ron yawned as well and stood, stretching his long arms above his head.

"I'm going to turn in too. Couldn't sleep last night because I was so excited about hearing what Dumbledore was going to teach you, but instead, you just spent the whole time talking," he said with a tired grin.

"I thought it was fascinating," Hermione said, rising as well. "Coming, Harry?"

"I'll be right behind you," he said. "I'd like to just...think about it all. You know?"

"Sure thing mate," Ron said, "see you back in the dorms."

Hermione offered her own understanding smile and a quick 'goodnight' before following Ron from the room.

Harry sat in complete silence for a moment, not a single sound echoing through the vast chamber. He stared off into the distance, his mind wandering away from all the things he said he'd told Ron and Hermione he'd be thinking about, and instead settled squarely on Fleur, and her upcoming birthday. He wondered if she'd like his present, and what her birthdays had been like the years before, surrounded by her loving family at the ambassador's manor.

An intense feeling of longing washed over him as he thought of the comfortable home, but he was swiftly distracted by the walls and floors around him beginning to stir and shift, whirling around in a mess of stone and motion. When everything settled, Harry's breath caught in his throat as his eyes focused on a familiar bed. He looked slowly to the right, finding the desk and armoire where they belonged against the wall opposite the bed. His eyes slid slowly over to the wall opposite himself, a bare sliver of the moon visible above the shadows of treetops. He grasped behind himself for the door handle, an uncomfortable pit forming somewhere deep in his chest.

He stepped out the doorway, taking one last look at his bedroom at the Delacour's before gently shutting the door. He stared at the wall as he allowed the door to disappear, waiting until there was nothing but smooth stone remaining. He turned and followed the path back to Gryffindor Tower, absently massaging his chest as he walked.

He loved Hogwarts...but somehow he still missed being with the Delacours out in the peaceful French countryside.

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

Happy Birthday!

Fleur stopped combing her hair, her brush halfway down its considerable length as the letters finished tracing themselves on her paper. She stared for a moment at the short message, lost in old memories. How long had it been since she'd been wished a happy birthday by someone who wasn't a member of her family? She set the brush on the desk and picked up her quill.

Thank you! I am preparing for work, so I cannot talk, but last night I had an idea about getting me over there to help with your meetings. I will let you know when I am back home, and we can talk more. I expect I will be too busy today to do much writing. Sorry!

Sounds good!

Fleur rose from her seat, setting the quill back beside her message paper. She walked back down the small hallway that joined her bedroom, kitchen, and living room. She grabbed her comfortable shirt from atop her bed and slid it over her head. She pulled her hair out the back as she turned to the closet, sliding open the door and grabbing the first sweater she saw. She slid the loose sweater on over her shirt, again pulling her hair out from behind.

She shut the closet door on her growing collection of sweaters. She hadn't been surprised to find the Ministry building a little chilly, she'd gotten used to it over the years, but she'd found her modest collection of sweaters to be a little too old, and a little too small. She'd quickly picked up a few larger and extremely comfortable ones to wear to work, though they hadn't done much to lessen the occasional co-worker who had wrangled up the courage to ask her out. She'd turned them all down. None of them seemed to...measure up. To what exactly, she wasn't sure, but she did know she wasn't at all interested in them. Thankfully they had all taken the rejection in stride, returning to their normal selves after a day or two of nursing their wounded pride.

She sighed as she returned to her living room, and grabbed a handful of floo powder from the mantle. Despite being the first step on her path to the ICW, and the importance of helping Albus Dumbledore in his work, she was beginning to dread the monotony of paperwork. She glanced over her shoulder at her desk to the paper resting on the desktop. Harry's study group would certainly help to add a little excitement to her days.

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

The weekend couldn't come fast enough for Harry. Despite how nervous he felt about Fleur's birthday gift, he found himself occasionally counting the hours until Saturday morning. As the weekend drew nearer, he noticed he wasn't the only one affected by its approach. Hermione had begun to fret about what to get her new friend. She had started worrying on Tuesday, Fleur's actual birthday, and had only gotten more nervous as the days progressed. Her anxiety culminated in a whirlwind of muttering and bushy hair that flew from sweet to sweet, jostling the numerous other patrons of Honeydukes.

Harry stood by the door watching his friends do their shopping. He saw Ron drop a few coins on the counter and grab a small wrapped box from the clerk. He strode over to Harry and held it out to him.

"Would you give this to her?" he asked as Harry took the gift, placing it atop his own gift to Fleur.

"Sure," said Harry, surprised.

Ron fidgeted, the tips of his ears turning pink.

"Would you tell her it's a thank you gift as well?"

"Thanks for what?" Harry asked, looking down at the gift, its red wrapping paper expertly folded.

Ron shot him a pained look, the blush creeping around the side of his face and enveloping his freckled nose.

"Come on, mate," he groaned. He paused, his mouth working noiselessly before he finally spoke. "For you."

Harry's eyes widened and shot up to stare at Ron, who was studiously examining a nearby display of Every Flavor Beans.

"This will just have to do," Hermione said, thrusting her package into Harry's hands as she approached.

"You can give it to her yourself, you know," Harry said, accepting the package anyway.

Hermione grimaced.

"I know," she said, ushering them out of the small shop, "but Ron and I are the prefects that have to walk the streets this time."

"You two sure are busy," Harry commented, dodging through the dense crowd as they walked.

Hermione let out a short laugh that was echoed by a grunt from Ron.

"It's not quite all I had hoped it would be," she admitted, fingering the golden badge on her robes. "It seems a little...silly...to be honest. With everything that's going on, and what's probably coming…" she trailed off and looked up to the castle. "It just seems that there are better things we could be doing with our time."

The pensive silence that followed carried them to the Three Broomsticks where Harry bade his friends goodbye with promises of passing along their well-wishes and gifts. He rented their room from Madam Rosmerta and quickly climbed the stairs, carefully balancing Ron and Hermione's gifts atop his bulky one.

Once inside, he carefully set the gifts on the round table and pulled his wand. A muttered 'Incendio' lit the fireplace, bathing the room in its soft orange light. He pulled his message paper along with a self-inking quill he'd picked up from Scrivenshaft's.

I'm here. The room is free, so you can apparate whenever you're ready.

He set the quill down and spun around as a soft 'pop' signaled Fleur's arrival.

"I was waiting by the paper," she said, an embarrassed grin spreading across her beautiful face. She turned towards the fireplace, moving closer to the warmth. As she turned, Harry saw a yellow ribbon in her hair, the sight of it pulling a smile to his lips.

"How are you?" he asked, following her to their chairs.

"I am glad to be here," she said with a sigh. She pulled the back of her heavy robes against her thighs as she sat down with a sigh. "It has been a tough week. The week preceding and following my birthday, my powers are always at their strongest. I would never have been able to get through all the people that would be affected if I had come through the village as normal."

"Why are they so strong around your birthday?" Harry asked, her words piquing his curiosity. Ever since their first real conversation in the classroom nearly a year previous, he'd found her abilities fascinating, even though they'd taken some getting used to when eventually directed at him.

He saw a spark of mischief alight in her blue eyes and a playful smile tug at her lips.

"My birthday is also the day I was named," she said, stopping as though she had explained everything he could possibly want to know.

"What do you mean?" asked Harry.

"Do you know much of the stories surrounding fairies?" she asked instead.

Harry shook his head, his interest captivated even further.

"For a fairy, their true name holds power. If you know their true name, you hold power over them," said Fleur.

"But lots of people know your name," Harry said, his brows drawing together in confusion. "It was announced in front of the whole school."

He saw her grin widen, and felt the oddest sensation that he had somehow wandered into her trap.

"Ah," she said, leaning forward. She rested her elbow on her knee and put her chin in her hand, the light of the fire reflecting off her face and hair. "But what is my full name?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer and closed it with a 'click'. Surely he had heard it at some point during his time living in France.

"I...don't know," he finally answered, his brain failing to produce any memory of her middle name.

"You see?" she said triumphantly.

"Tons of people know my name though," Harry argued.

"And does it not hold a sort of power over you?" she asked, tilting her head to the side. "All of those people knowing about Harry James Potter?"

Harry felt a shiver run up his spine as his name left her lips. Maybe there was something to it after all.

"Well, maybe I will tell you mine someday," she said, sitting up straight again and leaning back in the chair. Her playful smile faded, replaced by a contemplative frown, her eyes focused on the fire. "It is not an actual power, but a symbolic one for us. It has become a tradition, and we like to keep it alive."

Harry started, suddenly remembering that her birthday had been the reason for the discussion.

"Speaking of your birthday," he said, rising from his seat and grabbing her presents from the table. "We got you some gifts."

"We?" Fleur asked, her eyes following him as he sat back down. He handed her the small pile of gifts, which she placed gently in her lap.

"Ron and Hermione each got you something too. They're busy with prefect stuff, otherwise, Hermione would have given it to you herself. Ron's is the red one, Hermione's is the orange one."

"Ron got me a gift?" Fleur asked, surprised. She lifted the small red gift from atop the pile and began to unwrap it.

Harry looked to the fireplace, hoping it was the fire burning within that was heating his cheeks.

"He said to tell you it's a thank you gift. For...helping me."

Fleur said nothing, her attention fully on the small, now unwrapped box in her hand. She slid off the paper cover to reveal a small assortment of various chocolates seated in little cups. She smiled up at him appreciatively.

"Please tell him I said thank you," she said softly, picking one of the chocolates up and popping it into her mouth.

She opened Hermione's next, exposing another, slightly larger box of chocolates.

"I gather I have you to thank for the gifts of chocolate?" she asked, eating one from Hermione's as well.

"They didn't know what to get you, and I remembered you saying that you and Gabrielle both have a sweet tooth."

"Well remembered," she said, setting the boxes to the side, leaving Harry's gift alone in her lap. "Please tell them both thank you."

Harry nodded, his pulse quickening as she picked up his wrapped package, and began to open it. Her eyes went wide as she opened the box, and pulled the large soft blanket from inside. She gasped as she held it, suddenly pressing it to her face.

"It is warm!" she exclaimed in delight. "I was planning on buying some blankets for the winter tomorrow!"

"It traps heat magically," Harry said, letting out a silent sigh of relief. "Heat from the fire, body heat, or a warming charm, it should last all night."

"Oh thank you, Harry," she said, setting the box on the floor and wrapping herself in the large blanket, grinning. "I feel like I have not been properly warm in ages. Now that the weather is starting to turn colder, I am missing my parent's house even more. I can charm my apartment to stay warm, but it is so drafty the charms wear off frequently."

"How is it...living alone?" Harry asked.

Fleur stared into the fire for a moment, before pulling her new blanket tighter around herself.

"Overall...it is lonely," she said, turning her blue gaze back to Harry. She smiled shyly, bringing the blanket up close to her chin. "I often just come home and check to see if there are any messages from you. None of the people I work with are the type of person I would like to spend more time around. They are not bad people...just...I do not know. You have set a high standard for friendship, Harry. I often find myself wishing you were not in school anymore. Our summer together well and truly spoiled me. Our time together was so...enjoyable, that I find myself missing it."

Harry sat quietly as Fleur talked, captivated as she put into words a longing he'd been feeling since returning to Hogwarts. He no longer felt like he was at home at Hogwarts...somewhere where he'd been nearly killed on a number of occasions. Now that he knew what true kindness and safety felt like, he longed to return to his life with the Delacours, and with Fleur.

"But," she said, breaking him out of his pensive thoughts. "That is why I enjoy coming here so much, and why your gift means so much."

"I'm glad you like it," he said with a smile.

"Thank you, Harry," she repeated. "Despite how boring it was at work on the actual day, you have made this an amazing birthday."

Harry fidgeted, feeling his cheeks heat at the praise.

"All I did was wish you a happy birthday and get you a gift," he said.

"Exactly," she said. "I am sure by now it is no surprise that I have not enjoyed a birthday outside of my family since I was a little girl."

"We can have a proper party next year," he said, smiling at the look of excitement that bloomed on her face.

"And we can have one for you as well this summer!" she exclaimed. "It will be difficult to top my birthday gift to you this year," she added with a sly smile, "but I am confident in myself."

Harry smiled as Fleur launched into ideas for his coming birthday. He'd be happy if he could just spend the day with her. He didn't need any big party or presents, really. He watched Fleur as she grew more animated, pulling her arms from behind her blanket, and using them to gesture while talking of the party. She painted him a vivid picture of the dining room at the ambassador's manor filled with decorations, friends, food, and gifts.

Before he could say anything, she began to describe another, smaller party at her apartment with just a few people over to celebrate. He relaxed, leaning back into the chair as he watched her, content to listen. The type of party didn't matter, so long as she was there.