A chilly breeze followed Harry and Fleur down the path, carrying them away from two noticeably melted holes in the otherwise unmarred snow-covered landscape.
"I am sorry if I am too...exuberant," Fleur said, finally putting words to the worry he had noticed brewing inside her.
He hadn't at all expected an apology and had to put in a herculean effort to avoid both gawking at her and letting out a snort of laughter. Privately, he thought he had done well, until he saw her glance over at him, her head tilted slightly to the side.
"What?" she asked defensively, battling against a smile that threatened to curve her lips. "It is not such a…" she paused, her eyes growing distant for a moment in a way he had grown pleasantly accustomed to, "...a humorous thing to say."
"It's a little funny," he said. "Of course it doesn't bother me."
"I just...know you do not like to be touched," she lifted their hands and let them fall back between them as she finished speaking.
"It's different with you," he mumbled, feeling his ears heat in the cold winter air.
He saw her raise an eyebrow and could see the playful retort forming behind her smiling blue eyes.
"I suppose the fact that I am kissing you senseless might have something to do with that."
"Something like that," he said, grinning as she preened at his admission. He stared at her resulting luminescent smile and felt a gradual understanding of his girlfriend begin to build itself inside his mind. His moment of pride was cut short when she suddenly stopped walking. She pulled him to a stop alongside her, his hand held fast in hers.
"I am surprised I did not feel that from you sooner," she said, her eyes locked on his own, scanning them intently for...something. "I had expected to feel it from you last night, when you first called me your girlfriend."
"What do you mean?" Harry asked, the sudden shift in mood leaving him slightly off-balance.
Fleur sighed, the puff of warm air floating slowly away in a growing breeze. She tucked strands of silvery wayward hair back behind an ear and grimaced.
"I felt your pride just then, Harry," she answered. "As I said, I had expected to feel it when you first called me your girlfriend last night, but I did not. I was very nearly offended."
Harry opened his mouth to protest but shut it with an audible click when he saw a grimace interrupt the playful smile that had begun to bloom across her features.
"I am sorry. I should not joke. I...have thought about this quite a lot over the years," she said, her free hand twirling the loose ends of her braid absently while she spoke.
"I...don't think I understand," Harry said, jumping in before she could continue. "I guess I was feeling pride just then, but why were you expecting it sooner?"
Fleur hesitated, her anxious thoughts clearly interrupted by his words.
"What did...if you do not mind me asking, what were you thinking of a moment ago, just before I stopped us."
Harry felt his ears burn and he hoped it would be hidden by the chilly wind that was beginning to pick up. He stared at her for a moment, before doubling down on his internal commitment. Of all people, he could be honest with her.
"I realized how much you like it when I compliment you, or when I say what I'm feeling." Embarrassment shifted his eyes to an invisible point off in the darkness, unable to look at her shocked expression any longer. "I was feeling kinda proud for figuring it out."
"Oh."
Harry watched in mild amusement as Fleur flushed deeply, the color traveling down her neck and disappearing beneath her large coat.
"I...made an assumption," she said, offering him an apologetic smile. "I am sorry."
"It's okay," he replied quickly. "But what were you talking about? It er...seemed like it was important to you."
Fleur's mouth worked noiselessly for a moment before she finally seemed to settle. She stepped closer to him, wrapping her arm around his and taking a step forward, resuming their walk.
"I know that I have…decried being Veela for much of our time together," she said over the crunch of snow beneath their feet. She stared off into the dark distance ahead. "It brings me difficulties in my day to day life, and it will present obstacles to our dating life, but in truth...it is not being Veela that bothers me. It is what happens because I am Veela that I find difficult."
"What do you mean?" Harry asked as gently as he could manage.
Fleur didn't reply, instead continuing through the snow, the lights of the house vanishing as they dropped below the crest of a hill. The silence drew on, amplified by the day's snowfall and the empty night around them.
"I did not think we would be having this conversation so soon," she whispered.
"You don't have to if you don't want to," Harry said quickly, the words almost propelling themselves from within. How often had he heard those same words offered in kind acceptance of who he was during their time together?
"It is okay," she said, squeezing his arm tightly in hers before disentangling herself. "You have told me so much in our time together."
"That's not why I did it," he cut in quickly, mimicking her earlier movement, and stopping her with a firm tug on her hand. She turned to face him, a watery smile quivering on her lips.
"Which is precisely why I want to talk about it." She took in a deep breath and held it in for a moment, before releasing it in a large cloud of vapor. "Do you remember my letter about the Louvre?" she asked, letting go of his hand and pulling her coat tightly around herself with a shiver.
"How could I forget?" Harry replied, even the reminder bringing a bitter taste to his mouth.
She smiled fondly at him, though it quickly fled against the weight he saw settle on her shoulders.
"What happened that day...left its mark," she said quietly, a humorless smile flitting across her features. "In more ways than one." She lifted a leg barely off the ground in front of them, kicking up a small tuft of snow as her boot broke through the surface. "You have seen the scars around my ankles, I am sure."
Harry nodded, remembering the faded circles catching his eye as she kicked idly at the water of the lake. She stared down at her raised foot for a moment before allowing it to fall back to the ground. Harry saw small clumps of snow tumble against her calf as she set her foot back down, and watched as it melted away on contact. If the cold water running into her boot bothered her, she didn't show it.
"Do you remember when I said that they used shackles of iron to keep me in that filthy cage?" she asked, her soft voice carried away on the sudden wind as it lifted her braid, whipping it in the air behind her as she spoke. The ends of her ribbon fluttered madly from where they were tied into its intricate silver length.
Harry again nodded, trying to work some moisture into his mouth, just in case he ever managed to find the words to speak what he was feeling. His eyes widened in sudden realization, one of Hagrid's early Care of Magical Creatures classes springing to life in his memory.
"Yes," Fleur said tonelessly, her eyes locked on his, but staring straight through him..or straight into him...he couldn't tell, "iron burns fairies...burns us. For the entirety of the four days I was in that cage, those shackles slowly burned away at the skin on my ankles." She broke her intense gaze, her eyes traveling haphazardly back down to her feet. "I had to go on a significant potion regimen in order to avoid permanent mobility loss. We were never able to get rid of the scars though." She tilted her head to the side, the familiar action lacking any of the closeness he'd come to associate with the motion.
"I hated the scars at first," she whispered, forcing him to lean in to hear her speak over the frozen wind rushing through his ears. "They were a reminder of what had happened. What could have happened. Years later I would still wake up in a panic, the lingering sting of the burns slowly fading from around my ankles." She smiled a sickly smile that looked alien on her usually warm, caring features. The sight of it broke his heart. "I eventually came to love them.
"Those people took me because of the 'beauty' I would become. Those scars marred my unblemished skin and became a sort of false protection...but they did nothing to protect me from the bizarre perceptions of Veela that began to permeate my life once I began to grow into my heritage. Even before my allure pulled at people with its full strength, people had expectations of me, and of my coming 'beauty.' Scarred or otherwise, I was a 'catch,' a 'prize,' and eventually, paradoxically-" her mouth twisted over the words, her brows drawing furiously together over their bitter taste, "-la salope; a slut. All because of the way I look."
She finished speaking, her words freezing Harry in place, mimicking the frosty landscape around them. His breath came in short, angry bursts, quick clouds of steam escaping his lungs with each exhale. Horror and rage battled inside of him, pounding furiously-futilely against the wall of powerlessness that was the distant past. He watched as her gaze slowly traveled back up to his, climbing its way up from her feet as though it were scaling a mountain. When wet blue eyes finally met his, he saw a crack in the despair-filled walls her tale had built around her.
"So why do I tell you this?" she whispered, wiping at the corners of her eyes with one hand. "Why do I bring such pain to a fantastic Christmas evening?" Her eyes darted back and forth between his own as though searching for the answer deep inside of him.
"Because I can," she said, her misery shattering against the true, brilliant smile that burst forth from her. "Because I have told no-one the things I have told you. Because you make me feel safe, Harry."
She hesitantly reached out and lightly grabbed his fingers in hers, the contact reigniting life and motion inside him. He gripped her hand tightly in his and pulled, bundling her into his arms. A sob escaped alongside a delighted laugh as she wrapped her arms around his back.
He held onto her as tightly as he could manage, her arms clinging to him as though she would be carried away by the frigid breeze that was finally beginning to die down. He felt her sigh against him, the tension slowly bleeding from her back along with her breath. She squeezed him once before stepping back, running a hand across her eyes with a soft laugh.
"All of that to say; I do not mind when it is you who appreciates or comments on my looks," she said. "I am sorry we had to tread such treacherous ground to get there."
"It's okay," Harry replied, rubbing at his arms through his jacket, the dissipating warmth of Fleur's body quickly leaving him colder than before. She had certainly had to bear more than her fair share of his burdens, it was unthinkable that he wouldn't do the same. "You can tell me anything you need to."
"I know," she said, reaching out to take his hand in her own. "As much as I want you for myself, we should get back. We will have time together, even if it is sporadic after this evening."
Harry found his heart surprisingly heavy as they turned around, and began their trek back to the inviting warmth of the Ambassador's Manor. Even after hearing such a difficult story, he felt closer to her than he ever had before. He knew something about his girlfriend that no-one else did.
A squeeze on his hand brought him out of his thoughts, and he turned to see Fleur grinning at him.
"I can tell when you think of me that way, you know," she said, her blue eyes twinkling in the faint moonlight.
"As...my girlfriend?"
She nodded, her grin growing warmer. "A small thrill of excitement whirls through your emotions when you do so. It is a completely new form of excitement from you that I only began to feel as of yesterday, so it was not difficult to figure out what it was."
"Well, it is exciting," Harry defended half-heartedly. "Besides, you told me you couldn't read my mind."
"I cannot," she assured him, turning back toward the manor with a squeeze of her hand. "But...we have been around each other for long enough that I am able to understand you in ways I had not thought possible. I hope that is okay."
"Yeah," Harry said, nodding, "it is."
"I am glad," Fleur replied simply. A shiver ran its way up her spine, causing her teeth to chatter. "Accursed fire-affinity," she grumbled, letting go of Harry's hand to blow warm air on her cold-reddened fingers.
"Couldn't you just...hold a fireball to keep yourself warm?" Harry asked, voicing a question he had been curious about since hearing about her ability.
"Do you not remember?" she asked, one eyebrow raised in mock disapproval. "My fire is an extension of myself. It cannot burn me, nor can it warm me."
"Ah," Harry replied simply, his ears burning. He had forgotten.
"Any other questions?" she asked, her lips pursed in a suppressed smile in an attempt to affect a put-upon expression.
"Yeah, actually," Harry said, nearly surprising himself as a memory from earlier in the evening finally resurfaced.
"Go on then."
"What are Samodiva? You said you were descended from Vila," he asked, his curiosity ablaze. The more he found out about her abilities and heritage, the more he wanted to know.
"Ah," Fleur said, her eyebrows rising in surprise. "I...do not actually know the difference. I believe it might be regional. The Greater Fairies are notoriously difficult to pin down, both categorically and literally."
"You can actually meet a Greater Fairy?" Harry asked, his own eyebrows shooting up in a mirror of surprise. "I just thought they were...gone. That's how Hagrid talked about them in class. He showed us one of the Lesser ones though. He said he caught it going through his coin pouch."
"You can," Fleur explained, "if you can find them, or more accurately, if they let you find them."
"Where would you even go to meet them?" Harry wondered aloud, staring past the Ambassador's manor out to the snow-covered branches of the surrounding woods.
"Not a very thorough class," Fleur commented with a smile. "You can sometimes find Vila and Samodiva in the Slavic countries, though others of the Greater classification reside all over the world. England has quite a few as well, and from what I have heard they can travel rather easily. They do have certain areas they prefer to live, however. They are a rather particular race."
"I see..." Harry said aloud, his mind churning with the new information. He wondered if there were any fairies in the forbidden forest. He had certainly met stranger things than that in there.
"And now I have a question for you," Fleur said, lacing her fingers again through his own.
"What is it?"
Fleur didn't speak immediately, instead chewing at her bottom lip, anxiety flitting its way across her face.
"What did Maman talk to you about?" she asked eventually, her voice again subdued.
"Nothing...strange, really," Harry answered. "She showed me the ribbon your father gave her during their first Christmas."
A shy smile stole so quickly across Fleur's features that Harry wasn't quite sure he'd seen it at all.
"She talked a little about the things that might...get in our way," he continued.
"Such as the 'allure'?"
"Yeah, and, er...my age," he said, his voice attempting to fail him rather than speak aloud the new potential issue.
Fleur winced slightly, before casting an angry glance up to the approaching house. "I had hoped she would not, though I am not surprised. Our age difference is uncommon, but not unheard of. I do not think it is an issue. Do you?"
"Of course not," Harry answered quickly, earning him a happy smile from Fleur at his hasty reply.
Her smile dropped into a small frown and a sigh as she turned back to the looming house.
"I suppose any further questions will have to wait until another time," she said, stepping up to the large wooden door and swinging it open.
They divulged themselves of their coats and soaking wet shoes and socks in the entryway, hanging their coats back on the nearby hooks. The followed the sound of indistinct voices to the living room, padding across the wooden floors, hand in hand.
"Did you enjoy your walk?" Apolline asked as the couple entered the room. Fleur nodded, pulling Harry back to the couch. She plopped down next to Gabrielle and tossed the blanket over them both. She curled her legs up next to her and leaned against Harry, sighing in relief as the warmth pleasantly flooded her extremities. Gabrielle made a small grunt of annoyance at the interruption but was quickly reabsorbed in her book, the disturbance forgotten.
Harry felt himself dozing off, the comfortable warmth from the blanket, his girlfriend, and the roaring fire making it nearly impossible to avoid the call of sleep. Fleur seemed to succumb to exhaustion almost instantly, her breathing growing slow and steady while her grip on his hand loosened. He rested his head atop hers, eliciting a small pleased sigh from Fleur before he too let himself relax into a light, restful sleep.
Harry awoke slowly, a warm hand gently squeezing his shoulder.
"I am sorry, Harry," Fleur said as he blinked owlishly up at her. "We seem to have slept through the remainder of the evening. Sirius is preparing to leave, and I will be heading home as well."
Harry frowned but obediently rose from the couch, his body loudly protesting the odd sleeping position. Fleur pulled him away from the couch by the hand, leading him over to the entrance to the dining room, rather than towards the parlor, where he heard snippets of quiet conversation floating in from the large room. She stopped abruptly under the doorway, shooting him an impish grin before glancing up to the ceiling above them. Harry followed her gaze, his eyes falling on a small bunch of green leaves with small red berries around the middle.
"Mistletoe," Fleur said, her grin growing wider as Harry returned his gaze back down to her.
Before Harry could open his mouth to reply, he found it suddenly occupied as Fleur leaned forward, the stray strands of hair brushing his cheeks as she briefly touched her lips to his. She pulled away almost immediately, her cheeks as flushed as though they had just come in from the cold.
"That will have to be your goodbye kiss," she said. "I am not sure I could do it in front of everyone."
Harry blinked. "That was-"
"-brute," Gabrielle interjected as she rose from the couch, fixing them with a glare. "Gross," she added, her eyes shifting quickly over to Harry.
"I know what it means," he grumbled, though he expected she was more focused on Fleur's return glare.
Gabrielle finally gave up, dropped her finished book on the couch, and joined the others in the parlor.
"I don't want to upset anyone," Harry said, turning back to Fleur.
"Do not worry," Fleur said with a laugh. "She was simply trying to get a rise out of us."
"That's good..." he said, his gaze slipping back to the spot Gabrielle had vacated.
"What is better," Fleur said, her soft tone wrenching Harry's attention fully back to her, "is that she is gone."
They joined the others in the parlor a few minutes later, Harry trying his best to suppress the slightly dazed expression he knew he was wearing. He thought he had done pretty well, until Gabrielle greeted them with a roll of her eyes.
"Are you ready to go?" Sirius asked as they approached.
"I suppose," answered Harry, his eyes darting around to the others around him.
"Well, it won't be too long until you'll see everyone again," Sirius said, gesturing to the group. "I've invited everyone over for New Year's Eve. Though I haven't had the opportunity to ask Fleur if she'll be joining us," he added with a grin.
"Of course I will," Fleur said. "I am looking forward to it."
Sirius nodded, turning back to Apolline and Sebastian, his hands spread out apologetically. "Well, despite your excellent hospitality, we must get going. Thank you for a wonderful evening!"
"It was a pleasure having you both," Sebastian said, shaking Sirius' offered hand. "I look forward to doing it again next year!"
"We'll see you in a few days," Apolline said, turning to Harry. She held her arms out and he stepped forward, her tighter-than-usual hug still a welcome one.
"Thank you," he mumbled into her shoulder, loud enough for only her to hear.
His answer was a brief squeeze before she let him go, and held him out at arms length, looking up into his eyes.
"You are welcome anytime."
"Thanks for the gift ideas," Sebastian said, approaching Harry once Apolline stepped aside. He held a hand out and Harry shook it, smiling up at the older man.
"I'm glad to help," Harry said. "Thanks for having us."
After another round of goodbyes, a hug from Fleur, and a subdued wave from Gabrielle, Sirius and Harry stepped through the green flames both waving goodbye as they vanished.
"Well," Apolline said, clapping her hands together. "That was lovely."
"It was nice to have them over," Sebastian agreed. "Hopefully New Year's will be just as fun."
"Sirius said he'd be inviting others that would be fine around us," Apolline said, waving a hand between herself, Fleur, and Gabrielle. "It should be fine. I expect it'll be nice to get out of the house for once, besides, aren't you a little curious to see the ancestral home of the infamous Blacks?"
"I suppose I am," Sebastian said with a laugh before turning to Gabrielle. "Come help me clean up the living room before we head to bed."
She nodded wordlessly, following her father from the parlor.
"Actually, Fleur," Apolline said as Fleur made to follow her sister. "If you'll follow me, we have something we should discuss. No time like the present."
XxXxXxXxXxXxX
Harry and Sirius stepped into the quiet living room of Grimmauld Place, the flames behind them dying down as they stepped away from the fireplace. They deposited their gifts on the table between their chairs, both turning to flop down into their seats. Sirius made it halfway down before he froze, his grey eyes staring unblinking at the fireplace. Harry turned to follow Sirius' surprised expression to find a large log smoldering in the fireplace.
"Kreacher," Sirius said, his voice echoing slightly within the quiet room.
The house-elf appeared moments later, grumbling under his breath, which, Harry noted, was a far cry from appearing mid-curse, as was his penchant.
"Kreacher," Sirius asked, little of his usual venom present in his voice. "Did you put on a Yule log?"
"Kreacher does it every year," the house-elf said, condescension thick in his gravelly voice. "If Master had his head on properly, he would have been around to notice. But no, only Kreacher to do it since Master was so rightfully disowned by Mistress. Still an ungrateful blood-traitor."
"Get out of here Kreacher," Sirius sighed, shaking his head.
The house-elf vanished without another word, leaving Harry and Sirius alone in the resulting silence.
"Well," Sirius said loudly, bending over to reach under the table between them. "I suppose now's as good a time as any."
He handed over a package small enough to fit in the palm of Harry's hand. It was wrapped haphazardly in faded green wrapping paper, torn corners sticking out from the bottom. Harry carefully unwrapped it, examining the small dingy mirror he uncovered closely.
"It's a two-way mirror," Sirius explained, pulling a second, unwrapped version from beneath the table. "If you say my name, you'll be able to talk to me."
"Sirius," Harry said into the mirror, watching wide-eyed as the dirty surface started to swirl, eventually coalescing into Sirius' grinning face.
"Useful, isn't it!" Sirius said, pocketing his mirror.
"It sure is," Harry said. He rose from his seat and gathered his gifts up in his arms. "Thank you. Yours is up in my room. I'll be right back."
Once upstairs, Harry opened the door to his room to find Hedwig perched proudly on the footboard of his bed, a small pile of letters resting on the blankets behind her. As he approached, he saw that each one had, in various handwritten versions, his name scrawled on the front. He stared at the letters as he fumbled in his nightstand for Sirius' gift, his curiosity doing its best to reach his arm out to open just one.
He scratched Hedwig on the head as he passed, promising himself he would be sure to open them all later that night after Sirius had gone to bed. He handed the gift over to Sirius, the wrapping job nearly as bad as the one on the mirror. Sirius tore through the paper, a giant grin splitting his rugged features.
"I had to play it cool at the Delacour's," he said in answer to Harry's surprised stare. "I haven't gotten gifts in ages." His words hitched in his throat as he exposed a small photograph of Lily and James, waving up at him.
"Hagrid got me a photo album a couple of years ago," Harry explained into the sudden silence. "I haven't seen many photos around here other than the old paintings. I thought you might like one...of them."
"It's fantastic, Harry," Sirius said, bounding up from his seat and enveloping Harry in a hug.
Harry patted Sirius' bony back awkwardly, breathing a silent sigh of relief once he'd been released.
"Sorry about that," Sirius said, his weak laugh betrayed by his wet eyes. "I just wasn't expecting something like this. Thank you."
"I can show you the rest," Harry offered. "I can make copies of whichever ones you want."
"I'd like that," said Sirius, affecting a large, not entirely dishonest, yawn. "I'm going to turn in. See you in the morning. Happy Christmas, Harry."
"Happy Christmas, Sirius."
XxXxXxXxXxXxX
"Mother!" Fleur ground out, her whole body so flushed with embarrassment that she almost couldn't believe she hadn't combusted, lighting her old bed on fire...again. "We've been over this already. I'm not a child anymore!"
Apolline's eyes narrowed, an imperious glare above similarly embarrassed cheeks.
"Be that as it may, you and I are far too much alike, and I doubt you have practiced that charm a single time since I taught it to you years ago. If you show me you can do it, I'll never speak of it again."
"You shouldn't be speaking of it anyway," Fleur grumbled, snatching her wand from where it lay on the wrinkled covers. Sometimes it was easier to acquiesce than to fight, and besides, a little practice...might come in handy...eventually. She sighed deeply, waving her wand across her middle as instructed. She felt the warm touch of the charm settle on her skin as she successfully cast it...on her third try.
XxXxXxXxXxXxX
Harry sat cross-legged on his bed, surrounded by empty envelopes and colorful Christmas cards. He held the last one in his hand, the inside almost completely covered in tiny, precise handwriting.
Harry,
Happy Christmas! Oh, I've been waiting five years to send you a Christmas card! I've sent Ron one every single year, and have yet to receive a single one back. How's that for gratitude? Speaking of Ron, you let me know if you don't get one from him.
He smiled over to a simple card near his knee, a Christmas tree on the front with the words 'Happy Christmas' scrawled across the inside in Ron's familiar handwriting.
I hope it's okay, but I let everyone know you can get mail while we're out of school on holiday now. I didn't tell them why, of course, but I thought it might be a nice surprise to get a bunch of Christmas cards! Even Luna said she'd send you one!
His eyes widened in realization. He'd been wondering who had sent him a pressed flower inside a blank card.
I hope you've had an excellent Christmas Harry, and I hope your visit with Fleur was fun too! If you get this before visiting them, please let her know I said hello!
Happy Christmas!
Hermione
He gathered the cards from around him, and swung his legs off the bed, padding over to his dresser. He set each card on the large wooden top, setting bright orange Halloween cards Fred and George had sent him in the back of the group. After admiring his handiwork, he stepped over to his nightstand and pulled Fleur's notepaper from inside the drawer. He was thrilled to find new words scrawled across one side.
Happy Christmas Harry. Thank you for an incredible couple of days.
Happy Christmas. I-
Harry stared down at the paper, quill poised above it, unsure how to continue. She was thanking him? He was dating someone who cared enough about him to see past the Boy-Who-Lived, his relatives, his...panic and anxiety, and the looming threat of Voldemort. And she was so beautiful that just sidelong glances of her often stole his wits, leaving him nothing more than a gawking fool. How was he supposed to convey even a small part of that with such inadequate tools? He flipped the paper over to re-read the message, to find it already vanished, new letters snaking their way across the page.
Have I rendered you speechless yet again?
I guess so. I'm still not so sure that I'm not dreaming.
That is kind, but I would prefer it if you would join me in reality.
I know. Don't worry, it'll sink in, eventually.
I would not say 'no' to more dinner dates until it does. I gave you some excellent suggestions yesterday.
It's a deal. Happy Christmas, Fleur. Goodnight.
Goodnight, Harry.
