"How could they think such a thing?" she asked indignantly, disbelief at the way that the paper had labeled her. "I- this is an outrage!"

"I'm more interested in how they knew to find you here," George said, directing a dark look at his younger brother, who flushed under his scrutiny, the red color clashing horribly with his hair.

"A man firecalled just after dinner last night. He said he was checking Gabby's references, I thought it was for a job application! All I told them was that we brought her on the staff recently. That's it, I swear! I'd never- they didn't even ask any personal questions about you!"

Gabrielle fumed. Of course her in-laws would set her up like this. She should have expected it; after all, Harry had dated their sister at some point, hadn't he? No doubt she'd had a hand in engineering this- this atrocity.

Well. They didn't count on one thing, when they sprung this trap to try and destroy her new relationship - she was a Delacour, one of the most influential families in Magical France. She'd seen her father hold press conferences several times, and listened to him on the Wireless dozens more. She'd simply employ her wit and charm and transform the coverage around her and Harry from salacious to sensational.

"I'm going out there."

"What? You can't!" Ron's blush disappeared, his pallor turning pale with impressive speed. "Don't-"

"I am not afraid. You cannot cower from the press, it only serves to reinforce their version of events. I will make them see that I am not… what they claim I am."

"Gabby, no-" George started to say, but it was too late, she'd already turned the lock and stepped outside. A cacophony exploded around her, shouts coming from all sides.

"Miss Delacour!"

"Gabrielle, over here!"

"Is it true that Harry Potter brought you back from Switzerland?"

"-reports of you demanding work at the Ministry of Magic?"

"Twirling Tina claims-"

"ENOUGH!" She shouted, and the dull roar lessened to the point she could speak in a normal voice. "I will answer your questions, to correct the- the slander written about me in this morning's paper."

"Actually, dear, slander is spoken aloud. I think you mean libel," Rita Skeeter, given a wide berth even by the other journalists, simpered. "But our laws allow for reporting based on the merits of good-faith, even if found to be untrue." Skeeter's tone made it clear she thought that was a very big 'if'.

"I am not a- what was said about me. Harry and I are, ah… we-" Gabrielle froze. Was she really going to announce, in front of a crowd of more than a dozen reporters, that she and Harry had agreed to start dating? He complained several times last night about how he longed for privacy; would he be upset that she revealed something so personal, so soon? What if he thought he couldn't trust her?

"Miss Delacour is an employee of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, she certainly is not involved in anything sordid," Ron's voice, sounding utterly terrified, spoke up from just behind her. "Any insinuation otherwise is nothing more than the basest sort of gossip-peddling. You've reached a new low, Rita."

"Gabrielle! Kimberly Kent, Witch Weekly. Where did you purchase the outfit you wore on your outing with Mr. Potter?"

"-rumours of using your veela wiles to seduce-"

"-Delacour, are you and Mr. Potter planning to move overseas to-"

Blinded by a steady stream of flashes from multiple cameras, Gabrielle stuttered, trying to listen to the onslaught of questions to find one to respond to. Naturally, it was Skeeter who had one more bombshell to drop, obtaining everyone's attention with a question surprisingly for Ron, not her.

"Mr. Weasley, is it true that Harry Potter used his influence as a minority-owner of the WWW to secure legitimate employment for his 'off-the-books companion'?"

Even Gabrielle turned to face Ron at that. 'Harry owns their business?' Why didn't he tell her? Did- did he think her incapable of anything more than a shopgirl?

"Absolutely not! Harry has no involvement in personnel decisions, Miss Delacour was hired personally by my brother and myself and is a valuable addition-" Ron continued talking, but his answer was drowned out by the sudden rush of the reporters away from the two of them.

"Mr. Potter!"

"Harry, over here!"

A silver wave emanated from the direction that the journalists had turned, and absolute silence fell over the whole block of Diagon Alley. Gabrielle watched as the wizards and witches tapped themselves with their wands, trying and failing to dispel the Silencing Charm that had washed over everyone.

"I have never been so ashamed of the press as I was when I saw this!" Harry said, holding up a copy of The Daily Prophet. "And considering the things you lot have written about me over the years, that's saying something. If you don't start treating my family and friends with respect, maybe I will leave the country again, and you can spend the rest of your miserable careers reprinting press releases from foreign papers. I'll say it again - don't go after my friends and family, or by Merlin you won't like the consequences."

He pushed through the crowd, reaching Gabrielle's side, and she cocked her head in confusion when he recoiled in surprise at the sight of her, directing a questioning glance to his best friend. Ron merely cocked his thumb in the direction of the eye-watering orange store front behind them.

"Come on, let's get you out of here," he said quietly, wrapping one arm around her and spinning in place.

They reappeared in the entrance hall of his home, where he quickly dispelled his charm. "I'm so sorry, Gab-"

"Why did you not tell me? I thought you believed in me! I am capable of more than working a register!"

"I had nothing to do with George hiring you, I promise! And even they know that it's just temporary, until you find something you're passionate-"

"Vile filth! Half-breeds, polluting the House of Black with their foul presence!" The curtains around a life-sized portrait of a madwoman had retracted at the sound of their nascent argument. "Kreacher! Remove this stain from my presence! Kreacher!"

"Don't you talk about her like that!" came a furious, tearful cry, and Harry and Gabrielle both watched Teddy charge the painting, punching the frame and clawing at the canvas to no avail, the little boy shouting his anger all the while.

"Hey little man, it's okay," Harry soothed, gently pulling Teddy away from his assault on the portrait before wrestling the curtains closed over the howls of rage from the woman. "You remember what I told you, right? Great-Grandma's not right in the head, she says bad things that aren't true."

"You are, ah, related to that woman?"

Scooping up his godson, Harry turned and offered an apologetic smile. "Very distantly, I assure you. She's the former Lady Black, and had her portrait tied in with the wards. I'd need to practically level the house to its foundations to get rid of it."

That sounded like a worthy compromise to Gabrielle, but before she could say anything Teddy got his first good look at her. "You look like a clown," he commented in the brutally honest manner only children got away with.

"What?" 'Oh no! The prank marmalade!' "You mean- all those photographs that the reporters were- I looked like this?"

"You really don't look that bad," Harry offered, but Teddy's giggles gave away the truth of the matter.

"I need to go," she said, eager to put some distance between her and everything that had happened this morning.

"Please stay!" Teddy called, squirming and fighting against Harry to be put down. "You just came over, you can't leave!"

"Je suis désolé, petit pois. I must return to my sister's, to-"

Giving up the fight, Teddy turned and buried his head into Harry's shoulder. "It's not fair!"

Gabrielle looked at Harry, unsure of what she had done to cause such a reaction, but he merely shook his head. "He'll be okay. Can we meet again, soon? I hate that this happened right after we, um, agreed to, you know."

"Very well. Until then, you will have to think of some way to make it up to me," she said with a coy grin, approaching and standing on her tiptoes.

Much to her chagrin, Harry pulled away before their lips could meet. "Soon," he promised, and walked her to the Floo.

Gabrielle's worst fears came true the next day, when the morning Prophet arrived, a close-up photo of her face, plastered with the prank cosmetics dominating the space above the fold. The headline was as demeaning as the day before.

Potter Insists French Floozy Not a Prostitute; Denies Pulling Strings to Employ Her at Shop He Owns

A bitter sort of resignation settled over her, diminishing the righteous fury she felt at how she'd been treated. It was just too much; from her sister constantly undercutting her, her in-laws conspiring against her, to even Harry refusing to show any affection unless her appearance was flawless, Gabrielle felt besieged on all sides. This banishment to England was the cruelest thing her parents ever could have done to her.

She spent the next several days in her room, only emerging to eat and bathe. An owl had brought a bouquet of flowers from Harry, which she promptly incinerated. A Gringotts draft slipped under her door from Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes received the same treatment. She imagined her sister and her in-laws, laughing together about how easily they'd managed to humiliate her before an entire country.

Someone knocked at her door. "Gabby?"

'Speak of the devil, herself!' "What is it?"

"Harry firecalled again."

"I don't want to speak with him!"

The door opened and admitted Fleur, despite her lack of invitation. "You cannot blame him for this. Bill could tell you stories about the things they used to say about Hermione, or Harry himself. He knows very well how you feel right now."

"That's not- he wouldn't-" Gabrielle abruptly went silent. What was she thinking? Confide in her sister? She'd be better off seeking advice from that cow, Skeeter! "What do you want?"

"Please come downstairs. If you are not going to work, at least help me with Victoire."

A surge of guilt ran through her. Victoire. The poor, overlooked child must be so lonely! Fleur certainly would have no ability to relate to feeling forgotten and left out. "Very well."

Fleur tried again as they walked downstairs. "You can't avoid Harry forever. Why not hear him out, let him explain however it is he wronged you?"

Gabrielle chose not to respond, preparing a bowl of porridge and slicing a banana to add to it, placing the bowl in front of a sleepy Victoire. Bill had already finished his breakfast, and was on his way out.

"Keep your chin up, sis; don't ever let 'em see you down," he offered, with a pat on the back before vanishing into the green flames.

Dominique in her arms, Fleur left to attend to the infant, so Gabrielle spent the rest of the morning playing with VIctoire, making her a simple lunch and then reading several stories while the girl drifted off to sleep for her nap.

She then settled in and began composing a letter to her parents, detailing the terrible things that had happened to her since arriving in England. With enough begging and pleading, perhaps they would take her back, allow her to return to France.

But as she recited the headline from that morning's paper, a glowing blue kestrel rose through the floor, speaking aloud in Fleur's voice.

"Gabby, please get ready, and be sure to dress well. A visitor is arriving to see you in thirty minutes."

A visitor? There was only one person in this miserable country that she could imagine coming to see her, and Gabrielle wasn't so sure she felt like dressing up for him. Did her sister think Harry to be so special that even a veela required accoutrements?

Grumbling at how she had to walk all the way downstairs, while Fleur could simply use a Patronus to order her about, Gabrielle found her sister preparing an assortment of cheeses, two empty glasses set next to a bottle of wine. A good bottle, she noted absently.

"I do not wish to see anyone today."

Fleur glanced up, taking in her dishevelled appearance, in frayed jeans and loose t-shirt. "Please get dressed. If you do not wish to speak with her, you may send her away when she arrives. But at least be presentable, if you choose to do so."

'She?' Curiosity piqued in spite of herself, Gabrielle retreated to her room and started digging through her wardrobe, eventually selecting a lime-green, knee-length skirt and a peach-colored wrap-top. Completing her outfit, she pulled on a pair of black stockings and matching black flats. Just as she finished running a brush through her hair, Fleur knocked at the door. "She's here."

"You!" she hissed as she entered the dining room, "How dare you come to my home!"

"Miss Delacour," Kimberly Kent, the reporter from Witch Weekly that had been present at the scene of her abject humiliation, rose from her seat, holding her hands out in a gesture of peace. "I know you've been treated quite unfairly by the press, but let me assure that I'm here in the hopes of remedying that."

"I do not have anything to say to you!"

"Harry asked for her to come," Fleur interjected. "I think you should at least hear her out."

"Why?" Gabrielle spat, "Are you planning on making a scrapbook of all of the articles mocking me?"

"He spoke with my editor and did an interview of his own, in the hopes of countering some of Skeeter's vitriol. If you'll recall, Miss Delacour, my only question last week was about your outfit."

Eyes still narrowed suspiciously, eventually Gabrielle nodded, taking a seat at the table. Fleur poured them each a glass of wine, and then left the room.

"Did Harry really ask you to come here?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter was very concerned about the way you've been smeared in the papers. He thought that my publication was well-suited to start to repair your image."

Although she was still upset with him, Gabrielle couldn't deny the thought of Harry, worrying for her and calling in favors was rather flattering. "Very well."

"Excellent! So Gabrielle - may I call you that? - let's talk about where you like to shop."

Kimberly, it turned out, was very knowledgeable about fashion, including the latest trends outside of Great Britain and made for pleasant company. The two finished the bottle of wine, their chat stretching on for two hours, only coming to an end when Victoire came wandering down the stairs from her nap.

"Thank you for meeting with me."

"It was much more pleasant than I thought it would be," she admitted, shaking the reporter's hand.

"Can I ask you something, just between us? I promise it won't appear in the article."

"What?"

Kimberly, closing the clasps of her cloak around her neck, leaned forward conspiratorially. "How long have you and Harry Potter been together? I only ask," she hastened to add, seeing Gabrielle's expression clam up, "because this is the first time he's ever agreed to a 'social' interview. The Prophet really got him riled up."

"Really?"

The reporter smiled, taking that response as a non-answer. "Mr. Potter requested pre-approval, so I'll send the draft to him when my article is written. I hope we meet again, this was a pleasure."

After bidding her farewell, Gabrielle begged off watching Victoire, contacting Harry to ask for, and quickly receive permission to step through the Floo to Number 12.

"This is a pleasant surprise," Harry said, greeting her with an embrace and whisking away the ash with a wave of his wand. "Did you meet with Miss Kent?"

She kissed him, long and hard. He stumbled backwards, carrying her with him, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. She pressed him against the arm of the parlor's sofa, not relenting even after he fell backwards, pulling her along by her hips.

Harry moaned into her mouth, and she smiled against his lips, eventually halting their kiss to stare down at him. "There. Now that was much better than pulling back, non?"

"Wait," he asked, licking his lips and staring at her own, "Is that why you've not responded to my letters?"

It seemed rather silly now, so she turned her head to rest it against his chest, feeling the quickness of his pulse against her ear. "You said we are dating, then denied me. It was confusing."

"It's not that I didn't want to. I mean, snogging you was definitely the highlight of my-"

"'Snogging'? What is this?"

"I can show you, if you like," he offered mischievously, capturing her lips with his own.

Before they got too carried away, though, she put a hand to his cheek. "No. We do not 'snog'. This is a terrible word."

"Okay, what would you prefer?"

"We passionately embrace. Like in the romance novels maman would read."

"Deal," he agreed, and for the next few minutes they 'passionately embraced'.

"Stop distracting me," she murmured, feeling his hand slide up her thigh. "You never answered the question."

"What was the question?"

"That morning, after the press found me at the joke shop. Here, in the entryway."

"Ah," Now he did disengage. "Right. The thing is, I haven't really been with anyone since Teddy's grandmother passed away."

"So?"

"So, I'd just rather, uh, you know, gradually ease him into the idea that I'm dating someone."

To Gabrielle, that sounded like the sort of a response that a typical parent might utter. "Wait - you have not been on a date in a year?"

"Two, actually."

"La vache! It is a good thing that we will take things slowly. Otherwise, you may not survive a night with me."

Harry's face went crimson down to his collar, and he coughed lightly. "Err, right. By the way, speaking of Teddy, I'm hosting a birthday party for Hermione next week, on the 19th. He very strenuously suggested that I ensure your attendance."

"He did, did he? Where is he? I should say hello while I'm here."

"Molly's watching him for the day, so I could get some work done."

Come to think of it, since he'd been back she'd not heard him elaborate on what it was he planned to do next. "What sort of work?"

"It's still early; I'll tell you all about it once it's no longer in the initial stages."

"You are far too boorish to attempt an air of mystery, Mr. Potter."

"I'll show you boorish," he threatened, and her giggles echoed throughout the parlor as he tickled her mercilessly.

Gabrielle and Harry's interviews in Witch Weekly appeared in the magazine's next issue, published the day before Hermione's birthday. As Fleur was not a subscriber of that periodical, she'd yet to read it, but Harry had assured her that it was very flattering. Bill seconded that, noting that for the first time since Gabrielle's birthday he'd been able to take down the owl-redirection charm that he'd placed over her.

What's more, the day that the article was released, Gabrielle received a job offer - the most prominent theatrical director in Magical Britain had read about her, and offered for her to come and read for a part in his latest production's dress rehearsal. Based only on what he'd read in the article! She was going to be an actress!

All in all, things had turned around for the better since the disaster that followed her birthday. Case in point: her current role as a sort-of hostess at Number 12 for Hermione's birthday, which to her was a big step forward as Harry's kind-of girlfriend. Though they had gone on one more date since their, ah, 'passionate embrace' in the parlor, in accordance with Harry's wishes they limited their contact with each other in Teddy's presence.

That had never been so difficult as this very moment, though, as Ginevra Weasley stepped out of the Floo, quickly jumping on to Bill's back with a joyous shout.

"Gin-Gin! You came!"

Easy laughter followed her big brother letting her down on the floor. "Yea, well despite the Harpies having a pre-season match today, a certain brother of ours threatened me with the full Percy treatment if I didn't show. So the reserve will get a chance to show why I'm the starting chaser."

"Ginny!" Ron squeezed the lithe quidditch professional tight, lifting her off the ground for the second time in as many minutes."I'm so glad you're here! It means the world!"

Gabrielle watched the reunion with a detached expression from the kitchen entrance, eyeing the woman - Harry's ex-girlfriend - with a critical eye. Vague recollections of the girl mooning over him at Bill and Fleur's wedding trickled to the forefront of her mind, and she masked her scowl with a deep gulp of wine.

When Harry greeted her, though, exchanging pecks on the cheek, she decided to make her presence known. Crossing through the dining room into the parlor with quick strides, she looped her arms through one of Harry's, trapping his bicep between her breasts, watching in satisfaction as the red headed woman's eyebrows raised.

With a glance between the two of them, a sly grin split her lips. "Gabby, right? I hardly recognized you! Wow, you really grew up!"

'At least one of us did' she thought cattily, but plastering on a smile of her own she cheerfully replied, "Yes, it's been ages. Since you missed Harry's birthday, why, it must have been at least five years since I've seen you!"

Ginny sheepishly rubbed the back of her neck. "Right, sorry about that, Harry. Ollie was playing in an exhibition game on the Continent, and, well, you know how often those serve as de facto tryouts for the National Team."

Harry waved away her apology. "Honestly, I'd been back for all six hours before the party. All you missed was a very tired former Mugwump," though after a quick glance at Gabrielle, he added, "As well as a delicious homemade treacle tart."

"So you two, huh?"

Harry chuckled, pressing a lightning-quick kiss to Gabrielle's temple before disengaging his arm. "Yea, it's recent, but pretty spectacular."

"Oh, I know. I read the papers, after all. Would you believe Skeeter actually came to me for a comment on whether you'd shown any signs of 'certain proclivities' when we were together? Stupid bint. She's lucky she only sent an owl, or I'd have cursed her from here to Sunday."

"She is a very unpleasant woman," Gabrielle agreed, distracted by a giggling Teddy and Victoire sprinting into the room, Walburga's portrait hollering after them.

"You're way too polite. Still, I'm so excited you moved here! We need to have a girl's night out, as the only unmarried ladies in this family," Ginny exclaimed, looking over at Harry with a laugh. "Oh, don't look so concerned, I'll watch out for her. Or maybe you're just worried about what sorts of stories I might tell her?"

Judging from Harry's blush, she'd hit close to the mark. Mercifully, Ron tapped his water glass for everyone's attention. "Thanks everyone for joining us today to celebrate as a family, to Harry and Gabby for setting up this great party, Kreacher for cooking, and even my baby sister for skiving work to come. Hermione and I are so grateful to have you here for her birthday, to spare us having to owl each of you to announce the big news."

"We're expecting!" Hermione shouted gleefully.

The house erupted with cheers, Molly and Arthur the first to embrace them. Someone popped some champagne, and the previously sedate birthday party was quickly on the path to being a blockbuster.

One small figure, however, caught Gabrielle's eye as he slunk out of the room, head down and wiping at his eyes. While Harry was embracing his best friends, she slipped away to the staircase.

"Teddy? Is everything okay?"

"Yea. I'm happy for Auntie 'Mione," he said in a forlorn tone, not looking up as she sat down next to him on his bed.

"Me too," she said, running a hand through his surprisingly wild brown hair. "Is there anything you want to talk about?"

He was quiet for a long moment, picking at a loose thread on his bedspread. Finally, he asked, "Did you know my daddy's not my real dad?"

"Oui, he is your godfather, right?"

"Right," Teddy muttered. "Daddy says that my mother and father had to go away when I was a baby, and they won't be able to come back. Like Grandma."

"I know," she replied quietly, to encourage him to continue.

"Daddy says that my father made him my godfather, to take care of me since he couldn't."

"You know he loves you very much, just like your real mother and father."

He looked up at her, chocolate brown eyes filled with despair. "Did you know Auntie 'Mione is my godmother?"

The hair and the eyes suddenly made sense. "I did not know that. I'm sure that she loves you just as much as your daddy does, though."

"But she's not- she's gonna have a new baby soon. And she won't want me around, because I'm not- I'm just her godson. It's not the same."

"That's not true!"

"Yes it is!" Teddy cried, tears spilling over now. "And someday, Daddy's going to have a real son, and he's not going to want me either!"

"That will never happen," a new voice said from the doorway, and Gabrielle sighed in relief as Harry rushed in to embrace his godson. "No one's going to replace you, Teddy, do you understand?"

Gabrielle, her own eyes misting, made to rise from the bed to allow them some time alone. A tiny hand darted out, grabbing onto her dress with a vice grip.

"Please don't go," he said in a weak, watery voice.

She smiled as best she could, scooting closer to embrace them both.

"At last! My heart trembled at the thought you may have decided against partaking in my masterpiece!" Paulo Frost, master playwright and director, was clearly a man born to the dramatic arts. "There is no one that could possibly breathe life into this role but you, my dear!"

"Forgive me," Gabrielle said, nervous at the attention of the entire cast on-stage aimed right at her. "I- I had family responsibilities that required my presence."

In truth, after witnessing Teddy's anxiety firsthand at Hermione's birthday party, Gabrielle had started taking Victoire to the Burrow in the daytime, so that they might spend more time with him. It felt unfair to bring it up with anyone else; Hermione and Ron certainly deserved to bask in the joy of her pregnancy, so Gabrielle had stepped up to try and reassure Teddy.

That meant missing a full week of rehearsals, but Frost had been surprisingly understanding, despite their first performance now only four days away. Gabrielle was grateful, his determination to include her in the cast providing a strong boost to her self-esteem.

"Worry not, Miss Delacour! I have no doubt that you will step into the role as naturally as though Dionysus himself whispered your lines into your very soul!"

"Err, that's wonderful," she replied, uncertainty and confusion filling her. "May I see a script?"

"Of course!" Frost whistled, and a stage-hand grabbed a slim scroll, running it over to her. "As you can see, the muses guided my quill, dipped it into an inkwell of inspiration! At last! A theatrical presentation of the Battle of Hogwarts, the triumph of the Man-Who-Conquered over the evil of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!"

'Oh no'

"I can see on your face, your worries over a scarcity of lines. Do not fear, Miss Delacour! Your greatness will not be shown in your words, but in your PRESENCE!" He shouted the last word, his theatrics over the top even in their current setting.

'It couldn't be'

"For everyone knows your character spoke not with words, but with her wand, like a valkyrie seizing her enemies within her iron grasp. No ordinary actor could portray such majesty, oh no; only you could fill the role of Fleur Weasley!"

'This can't be happening!'

A/N: Some housekeeping:

- The line about snogging came from *some* H/Fleur fic, but god help me I cannot remember which. If someone does, shoot me a PM and I will make an edit including the title/author. It's so perfect for a snooty Frenchwoman to say to an Englishman!

- The idea for Gabby appearing as Fleur in a reproduction of the Battle of Hogwarts was suggested by a Guest reviewer. As soon as I saw it, I knew it would be included in the fic. Absolutely perfect! Thank you!

We start to see some of the issues around Teddy and Harry. I think we all know where this is going, but hopefully we'll continue to have fun along the way!

This fic really has me learning the strangest things. The number of articles I read about women's fashion to describe Gabrielle's outfits is really absurd. Oh well. At least you can take comfort that I spent 45 minutes thinking about what a French veela would wear to an interview, even though I'm sure not a single one of you lingered on that sentence longer than 3 seconds haha. Writing is crazy.

Stay safe, happy, and healthy! ~Frickles