Disclaimer: This is a fanfiction based on the associated works of J.K Rowling. I own no part of Harry Potter and I make no profit.

Authors Note 1:

Happy One Year Anniversary!

It's been awhile, huh? I am sorry for the long delay on this chapter, but between being out of the country, focusing heavily on another one of my stories, and quite frankly, the fact that this chapter was a bitch to write — it has taken me far longer to post this than I imagined it would.

The next chapter should be out by January 14th, though the chapter after likely won't come until early February, as I am out of the country again from the 14th to the 24th of January for a training camp and though the resort we are staying at is beautiful, unless they have overhauled the wifi in the last year, it will be physically impossible for me to post anything.

On a positive note, the pace will really pick up after this one, so I hope you are all ready!

Authors Note 2:

I had to do this French accent myself this time since the person who is usually generous enough to do it for me was unavailable due to the holidays, so if it is not as good as usual you have me to blame :) It will be revised when they become available again.

I could have waited, but I really wanted this out on the anniversary.

Authors Note 3:

Thank you to my betas James Marx and mineng101 for their work on this story.

"Speech."

'Internal Dialogue.'

Parseltongue.

French/In Story Text.

Memories.

Chapter 22: Advice and Occlumency.

That night Gabrielle sat alone in her room within the magically enhanced Beauxbatons carriage as her mind pondered the events of the past twenty-four hours in detail. On one hand, Harry had opened up and even agreed to allow her to help him. On the other, she could tell he still held so many important secrets, and without them, she wasn't entirely sure how to proceed. The only tidbit of information she had received from him that may lead to some more answers was a name, and it was given inadvertently at that — Sirius.

She sighed, mentally adding that name to her memory log and promising herself that she would look it up when she had the time. She made to shift her position on her bed and felt something in her pocket, she reached her hand into the pocket in question, remembering only as she touched it that she was still in possession of Harry's wand. She eyed it critically, holding it as gently as possible as though it were a priceless and delicate piece of art. It was perhaps a bit shorter than her own, but it was oddly pale; a colour of wand she had never seen before. She gripped it as though to cast a spell and had to bite down the impulse to gasp. She felt warmth spread all throughout her body, much like when she had first taken ahold of her own wand — 12 inches, made of beech wood with one of her grandmother's hairs. In fact, it had been one of the last times Gabrielle had seen her grandmother, as shortly after, she had passed on and left the responsibilities of the French Veela in the hands of her mother.

Gabrielle shook her head. She was certain that whatever was in Harry's wand, it was not the hair of a Veela and the wood was evidently not beech. Was it the bond then? Is that what made his wand seemingly so compatible for her? She bit her lip; she wanted to test the wand, to see if it was actually as compatible as it felt, but doing so felt almost like treason. She took a deep breath and raised Harry's wand, conjuring a pile of sand with a casual wave before flicking the wand once more, causing the sand to rise into the air and begin to contort into geometric shapes. She raised her eyebrows, the animation charm had been just as easy with his wand as it would have been with her own.

She shook her head, vanishing the sand with another casual flick as she set his wand beside her own on her bedside table. She was allowing herself to fall prey to curiosity, an occurrence that was far from foreign to her. She had promised to help Harry, but how would she do it?

She sighed, coming to a decision without really thinking about it. She held out her hand and a moment later, a piece of paper flew into it.

Wandless magic was something that came far easier to Veela, actually, it came far easier to most any magical creature. It was not something Gabrielle showed off in public, but it was a rather convenient ability. She had never really pushed its boundaries, never trying to learn curses or complex charms wandlessly, but things like summoning and banishing charms were easy for her.

With a twitch of her finger, a pen was in her other hand. She didn't understand why Hogwarts — and by extension — England seemed to use quills. Her father had told her that they were far more hung up on traditions than France, who had abandoned that practice decades ago.

She smoothed out the piece of paper and wrote.

Dear mother,

I am sorry for my lack of correspondence over the past month. Hogwarts is amazing, no matter what Fleur tells you. It lacks the elegance of Beauxbatons in many areas, but its magic and secrets are unmatched by anything I have seen in our country.

I am writing to you to speak about the bond we spoke of in the summer. You were right of course, I did indeed find out who it is, and I beg you to keep the information between yourself and papa. My mate seems to be one of the most famous wizards in the world, Harry Potter. You may think I am joking as it sounds like something straight from a fairy tale, but I assure you I am not.

Like I suspected and we discussed in the summer, he is dealing with a lot of personal demons. Some of those I am still trying to work out, but some have become more evident. As I am sure you know through Fleur's letters, he was somehow selected as a fourth Triwizard champion. Contrary to what Fleur likely tells you, I am certain he didn't put his name into the goblet, both because of the bond and because of his reaction to the events.

Unfortunately, many of his friends have turned their backs on him, and he has had a long week. Just as unfortunate, one of his main mechanisms of coping is to work himself magically to the point of exhaustion as opposed to talking about it in an effort to dim his emotions. I am trying to help him learn that sometimes you just have to talk to someone, but I imagine it will be a long transition.

Is there anything else you think that could help?

On an unrelated note, will you be at Hogwarts for our events in the tournament? I compete in the duelling portion of the tournament two days before Fleur will perform the first task.

I hope you can help in any way possible and I can't wait to see you again.

With all of my love,

Gabrielle.

The weekend passed at a surprisingly high speed for Harry. True to her word, Gabrielle had practically ensured he was glued to her any time he wasn't sleeping. They spent a large amount of time in the library catching Harry up on the week he had missed despite his protests that Gabrielle should focus on her own studies. She had apparently talked Neville into lending her the week's notes, and had even asked Professors Flitwick and McGonagall what Harry had missed.

Though Harry wished she wasn't spending so much time in places he thought she shouldn't, he had to admit that she was a very good teacher. He had never actually seen much of her wand work before, with the exception of the revealing charm and a stunner or two at the World Cup, but she was clearly as gifted in the practical as she was in theory, and she excelled mightily in both.

He did have to endure a heavy amount of teasing from Sophia, even if it was for the most part directed at Gabrielle herself, but Harry found this a small price to pay.

Luckily for him, Fred and George had evidently told Ron off, because though the red-head was still as frosty as ever, he did not lock the door at night and Harry was able to sleep in his own dormitory for the first time in almost a week.

Before he knew it, Monday morning had arrived and he found himself strolling up to the Ravenclaw table as was now routine, ignoring the hundreds of eyes that continued to do their level best to bore a whole straight through him with their gaze.

"Good morning." greeted Gabrielle with her customary smile, one that always warmed Harry to the core almost at once.

"Morning madams." He said, bowing theatrically to her group of friends before taking his customary seat beside her. When he sat down however, he immediately became more business like as he turned towards Gabrielle, holding out his hand. "My wand?" He asked. She had been true to her word and held his wand for the entirety of the weekend, though she had let him use it on Sunday for some light practical charm work.

She looked him up and down, her message clear. He nodded, trying to signify that he was giving his word he wouldn't use it to put himself in a state of magical exhaustion. She pulled her clearly magically enhanced purse from beneath the table and stuck her hand into it, drawing out his wand a moment later and handing it to him. He felt a surge of warmth run up his arm and spread throughout his body; he couldn't help but smile fondly.

Sophia rolled her eyes in annoyance; despite her best efforts, she had been unable to find out why Gabrielle was holding Harry's wand hostage as neither one of them had been at all willing to part with the information.

Harry didn't eat as the rest compiled their plates, figuring he would settle on lunch and dinner as his two meals for the day, and though she pursed her lips, Gabrielle chose not to comment this morning. A few minutes later, the customary rush of wings filled the hall as the owl post arrived. To Harry's slight surprise though, Gabrielle had seemed to have received a package as an elegant looking eagle owl landed in front of her. She smiled, looking oddly relieved as she quickly fed the bird a piece of bacon and opened the letter attached to the rectangular package, her eyes seemed to widen a bit as she nodded slowly, pocketing the note as she looked inquisitively at Harry. She clearly wished to talk to him, but did not venture to do so until her friends were locked in conversation minutes later.

"Can you meet me sometime tonight?" She asked him, causing him to quirk an eyebrow.

"What for?"

"I want to teach you something zat I sink will help you deal with everysing you are going trough." she said. "I want to explain it alone first zough, because you may not want me to teach it to you at all."

She had his attention peaked. "How much time would we need?"

"Not too much," she answered. "I zink I would just want to talk tonight."

"Well, I have a duelling practice at seven, but if we make an early dinner we could meet up after eating."

She nodded. "Zat works fine for me, do you know of anywhere private we could meet?"

He had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. "Jeez I don't know — maybe the Room of Requirement?" He had told her his name for the room that morning now days ago.

She swatted him playfully on the arm. "Sure, we can walk up togezer after dinner?"

"Sounds like a plan." He affirmed, earning him another dazzling smile.

The rest of that day dragged on for Harry, as try as he might, he could not curb his curiosity, nor could he pull his mind off of the number of guesses that were swirling through his head. What would she teach him that could help? He didn't doubt that she likely knew more magic than he did, but he failed to see how any of it could achieve any of the things she hoped to.

It was a rather awkward day of lessons, though to Harry's relief, it had not included one of Snape's; he wasn't sure what he would have done if provoked by the greasy excuse of a professor at the moment. He wondered what Gabrielle had told McGonagall though, as the normally strict woman had been surprisingly easy on Harry, even offering him help after classes if he needed.

'Is McGonagall straight? If not, that would definitely explain it.'

At any rate, Harry had made it through the day with little to no drama, though he had been a bit uncomfortable as Moody's stare had burnt a hole into the back of his head. The only real event of any worth had come to pass in that class, as the grizzled ex auror had announced that they would be practicing their defense against the Imperius curse in one weeks time, something that Harry was quite certain had to be illegal, though he, nor anybody else commented on it.

Finally though, he slunk into the Great Hall, taking his seat beside Gabrielle who graced him with her ever present smile as he began reaching for food. "How were your classes?" She asked, her voice perhaps a note more gentle than usual.

He shrugged. "Uneventful for the most part; you'll be happy to know that you managed to catch me up in all of them without issue. I actually think I'm ahead in Charms now. Thanks for that by the way; the summoning charm is still giving me hell for some reason though. I don't get it, I can perform literally all of the other spells in the fourth year curriculum, and I bet most from the fifth."

She smiled at him again. "Intent, 'arry," she chided. "magic is all about intent."

He just nodded. "I know, but it hasn't helped me summon a pillow." Sofia snorted off to their right. "I should warn you though — if your Headmistress wants you in on Moody's lessons on the unforgivables, you'll be joining us next Tuesday for a lesson that won't be overly pleasant."

"What is 'e 'aving us do?" Asked Sophie, surprising Harry by speaking up.

"Trying to resist the Imperius curse." He answered bluntly, causing Sophie, Josephine and Gabrielle to gape at him as Sophia started to giggle before shakily falling silent.

"You-you're not serious, are you?"

"Dead serious." He answered, seeming to challenge her to argue with his emerald eyed stare.

"'e is a mad man!" Hissed Josephine. "Zose spells would land him in your prison forever if your ministry or ze ICW knew 'e was casting zem."

"Dumbledore might know, and he's the figurehead of the ICW."

"You zink your headmaster knows?" Asked Gabrielle, sounding more curious than accusing.

"I wouldn't be surprised," he admitted. "Dumbledore's always sort of done things his way and to be honest, something like this would be straight up his alley."

"But casting zat curse on students is 'orrible!" Bit back Josephine, seeming to be enraged by the very idea.

Harry shrugged. "I have no problem with it; I'm actually happy we're doing it." All four girls gaped at him and he just shot them pointed looks. "Would you rather face it in a classroom with harmless intentions, or be forced to murder your family by a psychopathic dark wizard?"

"A bit morbid." Noted Sophia with some distaste.

"But historically accurate." Countered Harry, to which no one had an appropriate counterpoint for.

On the back of this delightful slice of food for thought, Harry and the four French girls ate in mostly silence before finally, when Harry had long since finished, Gabrielle rested a gentle hand on his arm. It was odd; almost as if he knew it was her without looking or using contextual evidence, it was as if he just — knew, and he did not so much as flinch as he turned to look at her.

"We should go now." She said, pulling him to his feet with her as she swung her purse over her shoulder. Whatever comment Sophia was going to make was silenced by Sophie's rather sharp looking elbow to the ribs, something that surprised Harry even more than her speaking up earlier.

'There's more to her than meets the eye, I think.'

Harry felt a bit surprised when Gabrielle slipped her arm through Harry's as they walked up to the seventh floor. Their closeness made his heart race rather quickly, though if she had noticed at all, she did not comment. After only a few minutes they reached the room and Harry looked at her expectantly as she bit her lip.

"Walk in front of ze wall sree times envisioning what I want?" She asked for confirmation. His nod was all she needed as she did as said. Moments later, the auspicious looking door appeared, and both Harry and Gabrielle entered a rather comfortable and well fashioned looking room. Harry took a seat in a most comfortable looking armchair, and Gabrielle took the one beside him, shooting a near imperceptible glance towards the lone couch in the room, though Harry did not notice.

"So," Harry began. "what do you want to teach me?"

"I just want to talk for now." Said Gabrielle. "I-I do not know if you would want me to teach you what I will propose. It takes a very large amount of trust-"

"I trust you." He said without hesitation, a statement that made Gabrielle's heart flutter, but also caused her to sigh.

"Do you, 'arry?"

The question took him aback. He felt as if he had been slapped. "Of course I do!"

"But you still keep secrets from me, some of which I know are important."

He blanched. "I — you'll hate me saying this, I know you will, but you wouldn't understand — wouldn't believe me."

She scoffed. "Come, am I to believe zat you have secrets more unbelievable zan killing a basilisk?"

"Yes." He answered bluntly, causing her eyes to widen for the briefest of moments.

"And if I said I did not believe you?"

"I wouldn't blame you, but it would just prove my point."

"What do I have to do to earn zat kind of trust from you?" She Asked defiantly, urged on by his doubt. "Trust to ze point where you do not fear telling me even your darkest of secrets?"

For a moment, his face became physically pained. "It — a lot of it has nothing to do with trust."

"And what of zat which does?"

He sighed. "Fine! Ask me anything — one thing. If I can answer — answer without risking what I can't afford to risk, I will tell you."

She thought for only a moment before asking the question that had been on her mind for days, though upon seeing the expression of pure, unadulterated agony which crossed his face for the briefest of moments, she wished she had not. "Sirius Black — who is he? 'ow did you know him? Why do you speak of him in your sleep?"

She watched with horror as even after the more obvious traces of agony had left his face, he visibly deflated, all the fight leaving him as he stared, almost brokenly at her before speaking in a soft, quiet voice. "Now isn't the time-" he raised his hand when he saw she would interrupt. "I-I will tell you tonight, but after we're done whatever you've planned. It will ruin the mood, and I won't be up for much after." He shot her an almost apologetic look. "You'll have to swear an oath though. It's not that I don't trust you but — a lot of people could get in serious trouble, and I don't mean detention."

She nodded, not even daring to argue with that look, that haunted, all too familiar look in his eyes. "Zank you." She said, gracing him with the most dazzling smile she could muster and feeling happiness well up inside of her as he seemed to gain his posture back just from her smile.

She raised her wand. "I, Gabrielle Apline Delacour, swear on my blood and magic that I will not reveal ze information zat 'arry James Potter tells me about Sirius Black wissout his expressed permission." The light of magic glowed around her as they fell into a brief, yet somewhat awkward silence.

"So?" He prompted, causing her face to take on a more business like expression.

"We boze know how I feel about your tendency to try and help yourself," she said, causing him to wince. "but honestly, I 'ave been a bit 'ard on you about it. It is no less stupid zan I said it was," she assured him vehemently. "but I also realize it's not somesing you can just stop doing all at once." She reached across the space between them and took one of his hands, looking him directly in the eye as she did so, not missing the trace of a shiver that seemed to wrack his body as she spoke. "I know you exhaust yourself because you feel overwhelmed by emotion and you feel like you need to get rid of it; I am going to teach you — if you will let me — a much safer way of doing zat." Her visage became more stern. "Your first option should still be to talk, but if you can't right away, if you need to dim ze emotions before zey take you over completely, zis is a much better option, and it is also very useful in ozer areas too."

"Why wouldn't I let you teach me?" He asked carefully. "It seems incredible by the sounds of it." She ignored the prick of sadness at the hopefulness in his eyes.

"Because, zough I can teach you ze absolute basics just in theory, for it to actually be of any use to you, you will have to put full trust in me — trust me more zan you have ever trusted anybody else in your life."

He fidgeted. "Gabrielle, you're speaking in riddles."

She sighed again, reminding him briefly of his headmaster. "What I want to teach you is called Occlumency." She said, noticing the near comical widening of his eyes. "You know it?"

He shook his head. "N-no, I just know the term. Dumbledore mentioned it, and that it can be used to defend against psychic attacks."

'Uh huh, that does not just come up in conversation.' Thought Gabrielle, though she said nothing on the thought.

"It can be, yes, and zat is actually why it would take so much trust on your part." She added this last bit with a gentle squeeze of the hand she still held. "I would be showing it to you for one of its other uses — zough I could teach you 'ow to defend from psychic attacks as well, if you wanted."

"I do." He answered, and the force and sureness in which he spoke took her aback. She took a minute to regain her thoughts, shaking her head slowly with a sad smile playing on her perfect pink lips.

"You may not be so eager once you know what zat would entail."

"Try me?" He challenged.

"If you wish." Said Gabrielle sadly, and before Harry knew what was happening, her beachwood wand was in her free hand and aimed directly at his forehead. "Legilimens."

In an instant, Harry was no longer sitting in front of Gabrielle, but a much older, much less attractive person in the form of his headmaster, listening once again as Dumbledore spoke of Occlumency, his barriers to learning it, and its potential applications to his visions of Voldemort. Upon the thought of Voldemort and the vision, that very vision played through his mind. He was panicking, his heart racing as Voldemort spoke to the unknown man's face in the flames. Still, even now that the memory had been made vivid once more, he did not recognize the man in the fire, though as soon as his panic began, it was over, and he was on his knees on the floor, one hand pressed firmly against his temple, as the other held onto Gabrielle's like a lifeline. "W-what was that?"

Gabrielle slid off of her chair in a moment, joining Harry on the floor as she pulled him into her, releasing his hand as she wrapped and arm around him and pressed a palm flat against his forehead, causing his headache to vanish in seconds before wrapping her other arm around him as well. "Zat," she said sadly. "was what will have to happen if you want to learn Occlumency, to really learn it, I mean." She shook her head, scowling; an expression that did not at all suit her angelic face. "Zat was more extreme zan what would normally happen if we practiced, but I had to show you its true potential."

"D-did you see what I saw?" His voice sounded scared, not accusing, something that both relieved and saddened her equally.

"I did." she admitted. "I did not know you discuss magical seory wiss ze greatest wizard in Britain." She tried weakly. "I do not know what ze second vision was zough."

"I don't want to talk about it." He said a bit shakily, causing her to squeeze him tightly.

"You do not 'ave to," she said gently. "I just 'ad to show you. Zat is ze kind of trust you would have to put in me. Knowing zat I could do zat to you any time I wanted until you mastered ze practice. Knowing zat your mind would be an open book to me in ze beginning."

"And what would I gain from it?"

"You could control — even suppress your emotions zrough its use." She told him. "Suppressing zem would be a last resort," she said sharply. "as zere are legitimate dangers wiss doing it, but it would help you master your emotions." She shrugged. "And like you already said, you could learn to stop almost all forms of psychic attacks."

She saw the debate rage in his eyes for only a second before he stared at her with such intensity she would not have thought it possible. "Let's do it." He said, and she could not help but feel a wave of happiness crash through her. Still though, she would not deserve his trust if she did not make sure he understood.

"Are you sure, 'arry? You know I have to try and enter your head repeatedly, even if I don't have to break into your thoughts? You know what I could do wiss you? Wiss your mind?"

"But you won't." He said, staring a hole straight past her eyes and into her very soul. "I trust you, Gabrielle. If this doesn't prove it to you, I don't know what will."

She sighed, her body relaxing as she leaned into him, squeezing him tighter still as she tried to convey her gratitude without words. "Zank you, 'arry."

"Well," he said, looking determined. "no time like the present. Let's get started."

She shook her head. "Not now, your mind has been through more than enough for one night, and you still have duelling practice to contend with."

He shrugged. "I'll miss it anyways. I still have to tell you about Sirius."

"It can wait," she said gently. "you have proven you trust me beyond any doubt, and I don't want you to miss practice — or to relive anysing painful after-"

But he had stopped her, surprising her by taking both of her hands.

'Has he ever been the one to instigate closeness like this before?'

"No," he said forcefully "I don't care about practice. I told you that I would tell you, you deserve to know the truth, and — it will help both of us, I think. You to understand me and — well — if you're right about this whole talking thing." He took a deep, calming breath as he looked into her eyes. "Sirius Black is," his voice caught. "was, my godfather, and was sentenced to life in Azkaban for crimes he never committed."

And he was off, telling her all about Sirius and Pettigrew, his godfather's escape from Azkaban, and the events of his third year, minus Trelawney's prophecy, up until the events of that final night. He had just finished saying how he, Remus and Sirius had detained Pettigrew and how they had walked out of the shack, with Ron, Hermione and Snape's limp form trailing them when his voice cracked and Gabrielle was mildly horrified to see tears forming in his eyes.

'Well, this must not end well.'

"P-Professor Lupin — well, you remember I told you he was a werewolf?" She nodded. "Well — It was the full moon." She gasped softly. "When he transformed, Sirius did too. He turned into the dog and forced Lupin back." Harry scowled, the tears forming more thickly in his eyes now. "Pettigrew," he spat the name with venom and hatred that Gabrielle had not thought him capable of. "he took his chance and transformed. I should have gone after him, but I warned Sirius." His voice cracked. "If I hadn't warned Sirius?" The tears were falling freely, if silently now, and Gabrielle reached up and brushed them away with a delicate hand. "Sirius went after him," Harry said in little more than a whisper. "and I scared off Lupin but-but…" his voice faltered again. "Sirius walked right in to a pack of a hundred dementors." Gabrielle gasped in horror, before a line from an overheard conversation played itself in her mind.

"Diggory," she muttered. "zat is what 'e was talking about — you fighting off a hundred dementors."

"I wasn't fast enough." Harry hissed, and the pain and self loathing in his voice nearly caused Gabrielle's heart to shatter. "I had mastered the stupid charm, managed it in my first goddamn Quidditch match but-but I couldn't get it to fucking work when it mattered most."

"'arry," she said softly, rubbing small circles on his back in the most comforting way she could manage. "if zere really were a hundred of zem, it should have been imposssible-"

"But it wasn't!" He cried, cried not in fury at her, but quite obviously at himself. "I did it, so I obviously fucking could!" He was breathing heavy now, his body racked by sobs as he diligently pressed on. "I-I thought I had done it when my stag forced them back, I knew it had taken longer than it s-should've, b-b-but I-I thought I did it." He had to take a moment to compose himself before speaking one last line before breaking down completely. "And then I looked into his eyes — there was nothing to see."

And it was over, Harry practically melted into her as his resolve crumbled with the conclusion of his tale, and Gabrielle held him, cradling his head against her chest as she tried to sooth him in any way she could, not allowing him to see her own tears as she allowed Harry to cry himself out, and eventually, to sleep.

Authors Endnote:

Well that was a bit heavy, wasn't it?

This was originally going to be longer, but I cut some of the scenes to put them in the next chapter because, to be honest, I really just needed to post a chapter at this point.

As I said above, I am sorry for the delay, but with (at the very least) the prep for the first task and the first Quidditch match (perhaps even up to the task itself) in the next chapter, I hope that will do a suitable job of making up for it.

Please read and review.