Chapter 9

March 24th, 2000

The Centre de Danse du Marais is a collection of classrooms, studios, halls and even a library, all spread on a couple of seventeenth century buildings at the heart of the Troisieme. A number of schools of dance and of music share the space, along with individual teachers which rent the facilities for their own classes.

Madame Emmeline Lepaux is a former Opera ballerina, turned teacher, and a half-blood witch. She runs her own little school and dance company in the gray region between magic and muggle. Her advanced classes are well-respected and sometimes lead to the Opera school. Gabrielle takes lessons three times a week, flooing straight from Beuxbattons to a small hidden room next to the lesson hall.

Her class has six students, Gabrielle and a sloppy brunnete sixth-year that Gabrielle despises with all her heart, two other home-schooled witches and two squibs. One of the squibs, Laura Aguirre, is one of Gabrielle's very few friends. A quiet thirteen-year-old blonde, hardworking and immensely talented.

They finish class at seven. Gabrielle has a portkey to take her back home, but she always walks Laura to the Rambuteau tube station before portkeying home. Gabrielle would never say it, but she worries. Her friend is very beautiful. Paris is a safe city, but, as any Veela knows, the world is full of predators.

That evening, the caution pays off. They were walking along and chatting, when a group of boys grabs Laura and Gabrielle, pulling them into a boarded up store. There are four of them. Gabrielle is lifted from behind, with a large hand covering her mouth and an arm holding both her arms against her body. Scared beyond het wits, she opens her link to Harry as wide as it goes and sends her distress into the void.

Gabrielle has a few resources. Her allure, is good for a distraction, but it would whip these animals into a frenzy, with prolonged use. Her fireballs are good to hurt, but not to disable. There is four of them and wands are not good for close-up work. So she waits, while three of the boys hold Laura down and start removing her clothing. Laura struggles, kicks one of them in the balls, and another boy slaps her. Hard.

The one holding Gabrielle keeps egging the others on, screaming instructions. Feathers appear in her arms and neck and a fireball in her right hand. Arms pinned she manages a weak toss towards one of the boys holding Laura, but it misses. Two of them manage to hold Laura down and the third has his pants down.

Gabrielle gets desperate. She frees her left arm and twists around, her unexpected strength taking her captor by surprise. With her nails turned into short sharp talons, she rakes the boy's face. Three parallel bloody lines, from forehead down to his cheek. He yells, pushes her away and she lands on her back, a few feet away. She scoots backwards, putting a little more distance between herself and the aggressor. He forgets his pain and focuses back on her. Before he thinks of moving, she throws a fireball to his face. He yells, as his facial hair burns.

She gets up and whips out her wand. First she stuns the one without his pants. Everyone is screaming now. Gabrielle turns her wand towards her initial assailant and casts another stunner. She misses. The boy, even burnt and injured moves too fast. He steps towards her and backhands her across the face, yelling. "What are you, freak?" The strike sets her tumbling backwards and she hits a wall, seeing stars. The burnt one pulls a knife from somewhere and approaches her cautiously. Then, a loud crack.

I'm in the shower when it comes. I get out, soapy and wet and run outside. I put on some boxers, grab my wand and my badge and focus on the bond. What I'm about to do is dangerous, but I have no choice. I close my eyes, gather my magic and push towards Gabrielle.

Arrival from apparition usually means a moment of disorientation. Aurors are trained to deal with this by moving. The sensation of squeezing, out in a confined, darkened space. An awkward roll as I arrive, taking in the situation as quick as possible. Gabrielle is down next to the wall, a large boy looming over her with a knife. A silent stunner and he is down. Another young girl, clothes ripped. Two bad guys left. One grabs the girl, sets a knife to her throat. The other is running at me in a flying tackle. I dodge the tackle and stun him in passing. I turn my wand towards the last one and beg Gabrielle for a distraction. Somehow she gets it. A burst of allure and the boy slackens a little. That's enough. From five paces, a point cast piercer right between the eyes. It leaves two bloody half-inch holes, front and back, and a deep gouge on the wall behind him.

=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=

Susan is half-sitting in bed, three pillows behind her back, and one under her legs, a closed book on her lap. A little past half-way there and she's already looking... big. She checks me out and looks sad. "I'm sorry." I begin, worried about her worrying. It's near midnight.

"How are they?" When I don't reply immediately, she adds. "Fleur told me."

"Elle is fine." I shake my head. "Nearly fine. Her friend is a mess, though."

She purses her lips. "What about you?"

"I killed a boy."

"So I heard. Want to talk about it?"

"Yes." Who else would understand? I tell her, in minute detail.

Her first comment goes straight to the point. "The piercer was the right call."

"I know." I remove my shoes and lie down next to her. It takes me a few minutes to speak again. "He was seventeen, with a couple of stints in juvie. Piddling stuff."

"Attempted rape of a thirteen-year-old." I sigh. "It's not supposed to be easy, darling."

"Hope it never gets easy, right?"

Another long silence. She rearranges her pillows and lies down, facing me. I caress her baby bump, still brooding. "Did you lay all that on Elle?" She is still trying to figure out how things work with Gabrielle and I.

"While I was there, I tried really hard not to dwell on it. Right now, I'm closing the bond a bit."

"Hm." She comes closer passes her fingers through my hair and we snog a bit. Sweet and slow. Susan can be very comforting.

=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=

Laura is lying in bed, looking haunted and bored, when Gabrielle gets in. "Hi. You're looking awful." Gabrielle sets down a little pile of magazines on the bed stand. They range from fashion, gossip, magical and mundane to one focused on professional dancers. Laura picks up 'Le Monde Magique' from the top of the pile and leafs through it. Gabrielle shakes her head. "There is no mention of it."

Laura glares at the magazine. "Why not?"

Gabrielle shrugs. "Three obliviated muggles, one dead and a squib doing an overnight hospital stay? Not regarded as news, I guess."

Laura ponders things a bit, then nods. "That wizard..."

"Chiseled abs and silly-looking boxers? That wizard?"

Laura smirks. "Yeah. That was Harry Potter, wasn't it?"

Gabrielle smiles. "Among other things."

She grabs the bait with both hands. "What things?"

"My betrothed, for one."

Laura screams. "What? You're betrothed to Harry Fucking Potter?" That distracts Laura from her misery, which is the intention.

"There's been no fucking." Gabrielle giggles. "Yet."

"And how did that happen? Merlin's sagging balls! He is dreamy. And powerful. And rich... how did he find us? I have to thank him..."

"We have a bond. He felt my distress and apparated straight from London."

"A bond? Is this a Veela life debt thing? I thought that was a myth."

"No life debt, silly. It is a myth. Just a bond."

"Just a bond." Laura replies in a mocking tone. "Like 'made for one another' and 'chosen by magic'?"

Gabrielle laughs. "You're really letting your airhead romantic out for a stroll, aren't you?" She shakes her head. "No, it's nothing like that. It's magical, but it's not romantic. I don't think it will ever be."

"How disappointing." Laura looks at Gabrielle, who stares calmly back. "Is it like a brother, then?"

Gabrielle laughs again. "Oh, no! It's like... he's a piece of myself. I love him, and he loves me. But we are not in love, that's all. As a matter of fact, he's in love with someone else, and so am I."

"The same person?" Gabrielle nods. "Who is the lucky one?"

"A pretty redhead auror. You will meet her, sometime. What about you, any prospects?"

Laura looks glum. "As you know, I don't have a personal life. I guess I'll live vicariously through you, how's that?"

"You're welcome to do it." Gabrielle starts making a little braid in Laura's blonde hair. "He kissed me once."

"A real kiss? Your first?"

"Yeah..."

"Is he a pedo, or something?"

"I wish." Gabrielle giggles. "It was real sweet."

"Details, you mini slut. What happened?"

"Oh, you're going to love this..."

"What?"

"I danced for him."

"What? What did you dance?"

"You remember my solo from last Christmas?"

"The Nutcracker one?" She frowns in concentration. "The sugar plum fairy dance."

"That's the one."

Laura closes her eyes and hums a couple of bars, smiling. "I remember. You really killed that."

"It was all right."

Laura raises an eyebrow. "So, you danced for him and then he kissed you." Gabrielle nods. "The fuck!" She sighs. "And you're not in love with him."

"No,"

"You're a dirty fucking liar."

April 14th, 2000

At twenty-seven weeks, Susan and the twins are getting a little hard to move around. Floo, aparition and portkey, except for those slow medical ones are out. And there are no slow international portkeys to be had. We were not going to miss Gabrielle's fifteenth, so that left muggle transportation.

I bought a brand new red Mini about a year ago, just because the thing looked so bloody cute. Added a few enchantments, and got myself a muggle license a few months later. Susan had tried it out, even driven it a bit, but Elizabeth hadn't really seen it before. She looks at it, in the quiet, suspicious way she regards anything new.

"So, what do you think?"

She looks at me as if I had gone insane. We really need to go muggle with this girl. "What is it?"

Susan stifles a giggle. I try to answer seriously. "It's a car. A muggle means of transportation."

"What's its name?"

I frown, not quite understanding what she is asking. "This kind on car is called a Mini."

She stomps, annoyed. "Not the kind! This car," she points at it. "What's it's name?" Now Susan actually snickers.

I shake my head. Purebloods. "I haven't given it a name, sweety. Why don't you do the honors."

"What do you mean?"

"Choose a name for it."

"Ah!" She walks around, staring at the car for about a minute. Susan and I wait. "Firebox."

She looks at me to check for approval.

I smile. Gabrielle will like it. "Good choice. Firebox it is."

After that, she gets in the back with a satisfied look and I tie her seat belt. It's about an hour from the newly named Bones Manor to the private airport.

If a car was a bit of a shock, an airplane was a revolution. Elizabeth stands frozen in front of the

single-prop commuter plane.

"We are flying to France, sweetie. This is the way." She just shakes her head.

The pilot, and airplane owner, is a woman in her sixties, a short muggle with silver hair. "It's perfectly safe, deary. I've been flying this baby for twelve years."

Elizabeth, unable to even express her dismay in front of a muggle, buries her face in my side and shudders. I kneel down in front of her. "Suzy and the babies are coming. You think We'd even consider it if it wasn't safe?" Elizabeth, still silent, seems a little resigned afterwards.

I help Susan accommodate her extended self on the back seats. I was planning on taking the co-pilot seat, maybe even trying my hand at the controls, but just looking at Elizabeth nixed the idea. I sit her next to me and strap her in. She is close-mouthed and tense as a violin string.

Engine on, followed by a tiny moan from the girl now buried in my armpit. Planes are noisy buggers. Susan is also pretty tense, but, tough auror and phlegmatic Brit that she is, lets her keep an appearance of serenity. After all, she more-or-less knew what she was getting into. The pilot talks to the tower, moves to the head of the strip and accelerates to take off.

She levels up at three thousand feet and heads south. Finally, Elizabeth takes her face away from my armpit and looks outside for a while. "It's really flying." she mutters to herself. "But how?"

I give her the cheeky answer I've been saving to give someone for a long, long time. "Science."

She looks at me, still a little besides herself with fright, but also annoyed... "All right, Dad, explain."

It was a three-hour flight, with a bit of shaking over the Channel included. Plenty of time. And I honestly tried to explain, but got exactly nowhere. Truth is, I don't understand it either. The pilot was a little more successful, talking about lift, drag, control surfaces and propulsion, drawing in the air with her hands and demonstrating with the airplane controls. Little by little, Elizabeth comes out of her shell, and asks a few pointed questions, finally requesting some lessons. She is disappointed that she will have to wait until she turns fourteen.

Both Susan and I are very proud of our new daughter.

We land at a private airport, where Jean-Paul is waiting for us with a big black Mercedes. Elizabeth jumps out ahead and curtsies to Jean-Paul. "Hello, Monsieur Delacour."

Jean-Paul does a little bow and smiles. "Well met, Mademoiselle... it's Bones now, no?"

"Yes." The blood adoption changed her a little. Her eyes went from dark brown to an off-green, her hair how has a reddish tint, she gained about half an inch in height, a couple of pounds and her face gained a little baby fat. And, much to her annoyance, she acquired a small collection of freckles across her nose. It was a painful couple of nights, but the result is very cute.

Meanwhile, I help Susan step out of the plane. "Jean-Paul, I don't think you've met. This is Susan Bones. Suzy, meet Jean-Paul Delacour, Elle's father."

"It's good to finally meet you, Madam Bones." Susan offers him a hand, which he air kisses.

"It's Suzy, Monsieur Delacour." She looks briefly at me. "We are family, after all."

"True. And I'm Jean-Paul. I do hope your twins will call me Granpapa, after all."

"I can call you, Granpapa, if you want it..." Elizabeth interjects with a small grin.

He grins, playfully. "But I am too young to be your grandfather, little imp."

She looks at him through narrowed eyes. "If you're Aunt Fleur's father you're old enough."

Not strictly speaking true. Fleur is twenty-two, Elizabeth is eight, and at fourteen Fleur looked like Gabrielle does now. Yet, the father of your aunt...

Fleur and Victoire are outside waiting for us when we arrive. I don't need to be told that Gabrielle is practicing in the dance room, enjoying the peculiar high she gets out of it. Opening our link wide, I can feel it too.

When Victoire sees us, she gets her mother to set her down and toddles towards me, concentrating fiercely. I kneel down and open my arms, and she dives right in, stumbling a couple of feet before she arrives. I scoop her up before she actually falls and pull her into a hug. "Ba-ba-ba..."

"Veela magnet." Fleur comments in a droll tone.

"Well met, goddaughter." I pull her dress up and blow on her belly, earning a happy scream for my trouble. "When did she start walking?" I ask Fleur.

"A week ago."

I tickle her belly again for another laugh. "Excellent work, pixie." I turn to Elizabeth, who is pouting a little. "She is eleven months. It's quite early for walking."

"She is quite the prodigy, I'm sure." Frosty.

I send her a wandless tickling charm with my finger, "Jealous, much?"

Elizabeth wiggles a bit, then frowns. "Vicky has her own dad."

"Pretty soon you'll be sharing Harry with two others." Susan says, patting her bump.

Elizabeth replies in a resigned tone. "I'm eight. I can be childish, can't I?"

Susan and I exchange a surprised glance. "Certainly. Knock yourself out. We can take it," I say.

"I hate you two." The small smile gives the lie to the words.

=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=

I'm just about done giving Susan a back rub when Gabrielle knocks on our bedroom door. "Who is it"

"Just Elle. Can I come in?"

"Sure." Susan is kneeling on the bed. She is wearing loose string pants, pulled halfway down, and a support bra. It's nothing Gabrielle hasn't seen before.

She opens the door and bounces in, still in her tutu. "Hey, sweet people! How are those twins?" She asks ogling Susan's breasts and licking her lips without a bit of shame.

Susan snickers. "Did Apolline wean you too soon, Blondie?"

"You'll have to ask her. I was too young to remember." She answers deadpan. Susan and I laugh. "Seriously, how are things?"

Susan sighs and settles herself on the bed. "Pretty awful. Heartburn, shortness of breath, backaches, feet aches, not enough sleep, and these two like to dance the salsa on my bladder. The healer says we are all doing fine, though."

"I'm sorry, Red." Sorry and relieved it's not her.

Susan replies with a vindictive grin, perceptive as usual. "You'll get your turn." Gabrielle glances at me and grins as well. "She means our turn, Magus."

"I can hardly wait." I'll get to experience every bit of it. Oh, joy.

"I'm going to take a nap, minions." She turns to one side and places a pillow between her legs. I help arrange two others under her head and give her a kiss. "Sweet dreams, Chief."

I stand to one side while Gabrielle approaches Susan and stretches to give her another peck on the cheek. As she moves back, Susan grabs one of Gabrielle's hands and places it to the side of her bump. She nearly jumps with excitement when she feels something poking from the inside. "Oh! Hello!"

I put a hand over hers. "Close your eyes. Empty your mind." I direct Gabrielle through the link. We stretch our perception. The little flicker of magic responds to ours, settling a bit.

"A boy?" Gabrielle asks, removing her hand.

"Yup. The other one is a girl."

"Hm." She looks at Susan, who is already halfway asleep. She is dead tired after the trip. "Do they have names?"

"Not yet," I reply.

"You better choose fast, otherwise Beth is going to name them Things One and Two."

Susan corrects her softly. "We should talk about it, then. You're just as much a partner in this family as Harry and I. "

Gabrielle is truly surprised and touched. And so am I. "Ehh..."

"What Elle means to say is 'thank you'."

"Yeah," she manages to squeeze out.

"You're welcome. Now, get out, you two."

"I think she is talking to us." Gabrielle stage-whispers, in her most fake-innocent tone.

Susan snorts. "Come back when it's time for dinner, funny one."

"Yes, Chief!" Gabrielle replies, brightly.

She drags me by the hand to her bedroom, a few doors away. The artist-princess double room, that is her soul made into decor. In the atelier side, Elizabeth and Laura are working on something at the big table. Laura lifts her head as we walk in and stops whatever they are doing, walking up to us.

"Monsieur Potter," she begins with a perfect curtsy. "I must thank you for saving me..."

"No thanks are needed," I cut her off with a smile. "And, please, call me Harry."

She blushes nicely. "Very well, Harry." A coltish young teenager, a foot taller than Gabrielle or Elizabeth, very pretty and graceful, with her blonde hair in a bun and wearing a white tutu.

"Are you collecting them?" Elizabeth drawls, without lifting her head from her work.

Laura blushes even deeper, and Gabrielle replies. "Maybe we get you in a tutu, and you join us."

Elizabeth just growls. She's already made it clear there will be no ballet lessons for her.

"What are you working on?" I ask.

"I was showing Laura some runes." Elizabeth explains.

Gabrielle looks at her friend, puzzled. "Runes? Really?"

Laura frowns. "Just because I'm a squib, doesn't mean I'm not interested in magic, Elle."

"Sorry..." Gabrielle mutters, ashamed.

"We've been teaching Beth some non-wand subjects. You're welcome to join."

She smiles. "I'll have to ask my guardian."

"Have her talk to me if she has any questions or concerns." I'll never understand most families' attitude towards squibs.

Gabrielle and Laura needed to change out of their tutus and shower, so I leave the girls to their devices and go looking for Fleur. I find her outside, chatting with her mother, with Victoire playing at their feet. Apolline sees me approaching by myself.

"Harry, cherrie, join us, please." It's a beautiful afternoon, and well worth enjoying the sun. I sit next to them. "Is dear Mrs. Bones comfortable?"

"As much as possible, I guess."

"When is the baby due?" Apolline asks.

"Mid July. And we're having twins, boy and girl."

"Well... congratulations, again."

Fleur snickers. "No wonder she's so big."

"I worry she won't be able to walk in a couple of months."

"Elle told me she's spending the Summer with you. She will surely help."

"She will. And Beth helps too."

Apolline nods sagely. "You've managed to assemble a beautiful family in a very short time, Harry."

"A series of happy accidents. Starting with Elle." I shake my head. "I confess it makes me a little nervous. My luck has always been a little schizophrenic,"

"I think you have earned a lot of good karma, Harry," Fleur replies.

Apolline crosses her hands on her lap. "Elle will probably go through the change soon. It's a little early, but the signs are there."

"What do you mean, soon?" I ask.

"Three to four months." Apolline frowns a little. "I'm worried how it will play out with your bond."

I press my lips together. "I'm going through it with her."

"We know, and this is a blessing. The change is a very difficult time, that, normally, Veela go through alone." Fleur grimaces with the memory. "The issue is what happens after the change. Newly changed Veela are... volatile, and they can easily kill their partner. We can provide you with protective magic and potions increase your stamina, protect you from fire and accelerate healing. The problem is that you may be just as overwhelmed by the Veela awakening instincts as Elle herself..."

I lift my hand to interrupt her. "I've become a little more durable after our ritual." Fleur and Apolline look puzzled. "Enhanced strength and healing, fire resistance and some magic resistance as well, just as Yolanthe told us. Besides, I wouldn't just assume I'll be Elle's first." They seem a little stumped at that. "It's really up to her, isn't it?"

I open the link and I can feel the hot water on her soapy body and Gabrielle playing with herself. She becomes aware of my presence and sends what amounts to a sloppy kiss and a shameless grin in my direction. I snicker. "Never mind that last. I'll surely be her first." Tension eases up a little. Besides, from what Apolline implied, I can hardly wait.

In the back of my head, I feel Gabrielle's pleasure mounting, together with excitement and not a small amount of confusion. It can't possibly be the first time it happens, but it sure looks like it. I encourage her and try to soothe her confusion, while enjoying the reflected sensations. She finishes it, and ends up sitting on the hard floor with warm water pouring over her.

"Harry..." Fleur looks worried. "What just happened?"

I gather myself, realizing I'd been a little lost in the connection. "Elle just had an orgasm. Her first, I believe..."

"C'est impossible!" Apolline whispers. "Not before..."

"Impossible?" I chuckle. That word is badly overused among magicals. "With magic?"

Apolline looks a little miffed, and Fleur, amused. "That bond of yours changes things."

"Yeah... I may have helped her a little."

"You two should be waiting for the Change to begin exploring." Apolline shakes her head.

"Elle is very, very Veela, Maman. She can't help it and it's not up to Harry."

"That's right. I'm mostly holding on for dear life. Elle sets the pace and the direction."

"Was it good for you?" Fleur asks in a sultry tone.

I laugh. Fleur's earthy humor is always on point, and a dissonant contrast with her ethereal looks. "Satisfactory. Nothing to write home about."

Apolline huffs, both amused and annoyed. "I will not discuss the details of my daughter's sex life with her sister and her betrothed."

Fleur shrugs. "Suit yourself."

=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=

I walk near the dancing room, and I hear muttered cursing in French. I walk in, and Laura is sitting on the floor, one leg folded backwards and one stretched in front of her. She is rubbing her thigh, clearly in pain. I kneel next to her, "What happened?"

"Eets nozzing, just a fucking cramp in ze quads."

I try not to laugh. Another potty-mouth ballerina. "Can I help? I know some field healing."

"Of course." She turns towards me, grimacing. I first cast a diagnostic charm, that shows a faint silver glow over her leg, with a more intense wide spot a third of the the way down her thigh. She is right, there is no trauma, just a spasm, and a little swelling. I cast a gentle warming charm and place my thumbs directly on the affected area, massaging slowly and pushing a little healing intent.

Her face relaxes, as the pain abates. "My legs grew an inch over ze past few weeks. All ze tendons are strained."

"Maybe you should ease up on the training for a while."

She snorts. "Ze Academie recitals are in nine weeks."

"Elle says you are going to get in. That you are the very best."

"She is full of shit. Eet's one hundred and twenty dancers, and four places."

"I think she knows what she is talking about, Laura."

I stop the massage, and she gets up, cautiously putting weigh on her leg. She smiles and does a couple of quick steps. "Merci beaucoup, hero magicien."

"You're welcome, graceful dancer."

I stay kneeling while she tries out a little training routine. She does looks exquisite, but then, so does Gabrielle. Afterwards, she kneels in front of me, looking serious. "Elle is right. I am very good. But Elle is better, hm? I 'ope you know zat."

"Not according to her. She says she has not trained enough."

"Non! She is too critical of 'erself." I shake my head in doubt. "I am technically better, bien sur. Better form, more training. But Ballet is not just technique. Eet's art, non? Elle 'as ze 'je ne sais quois', ze leetle extra zat separates ze good from ze great. She is ze only one zat doesn't see eet. She dances straight from ze 'eart, ze leetle salope."

I smile. "I guess that much I can tell." I think about it. What Laura is saying changes things a little. "Thank you,"

She smirks. "I am ze one zat owes you. Anything, 'arry. You just 'ave to ask."

I smirk right back. "How about free tickets when you are on the big stage?"

We both get up, and she is a little flushed. "You flatter me, Monsieur." She kisses me on the cheek and leaves.

=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=

Gabrielle is a little furnace. She's a great cuddle in the winter, but not so much in April in Maison Delacour. Elizabeth wakes up sweating, a middle spoon between Gabrielle and Laura. At least they smell nice, the girl thinks to herself. Elizabeth tries to wiggle free, but Gabrielle has an arm across her hips and she just holds tighter.

There is light outside, and Elizabeth must do something before she wets herself. She reaches down and pokes Gabrielle's thigh, as hard as she can. It's like poking a warm iron pipe. At least Gabrielle feels it and startles, freeing Elizabeth. "Q-quoi?"

"Loo." Elizabeth explains as she slides down the bed, managing not to wake up Laura.

When Elizabeth comes back, Gabrielle is sitting up, stretching her arms in a huge yawn. "B'njour," Gabrielle mumbles, still half-asleep.

Elizabeth glances at Laura and puts a finger to her lips. "Shh." Gabrielle nods and moves sideways a little, opening space for Elizabeth to climb back to bed. After Elizabeth is back, Gabrielle tries to go back to sleep, but she just tosses and turns. Harry is jogging outside, and the rhythm of his trainers hitting hard dirt comes across the link. The feeling of a welcoming smile also comes across.

Gabrielle gives Elizabeth a kiss on the back of her head, with a little grunt in response, and gets up.

She puts on trainers, a fresh pair of knickers, a white tee, a light green dress with butterflies, that used to be Fleur's, and races downstairs, tying her hair into a ponytail.

I am doing sit-ups, in a patch of grass at the back of the house, when Gabrielle gets there. A slight burning on my thighs and calves, due to the jogging. I am wearing running shorts and shoes, and a plain, sweat soaked, gray exercise shirt that sticks to my chest, and shows muscles and a collection of scars. It's a little amusing to feel Gabrielle's hungry look as she checks me out.

I stop for a moment. "I'm flattered, Elle, but the perving is a bit distracting."

Gabrielle smiles. "What can I do? You do look scrumptious." She squats right next to me and clamps down on the link. "Good morning."

I stop, breathe in and out a little, and change position, preparing for push-ups. "Good morning. Will you sit on my back?"

"Sure." Gabrielle sits, cross-legged on my back. I do a first series of thirty slow push-ups and stop to rest, counting up to ten. I begin to strain at the end of the second set. The third set is hard, my arms are trembling with the effort when I reach twenty, and the last two repetitions are pure torture.

"Done?" She asks.

"Yeah." She gets off, I get up and begin to stretch. She keeps watching me in a slightly predatory way, which, to be honest, doesn't bother me at all. "A walk around the path to cool-off?"

The path starts at the back of the house and quickly turns to a dirt track that wanders around an orchard with pears, in full fragrant bloom, apples, not quite there yet. and a small pond. It's around half a mile or so. We are halfway back to the house when I stop and kneel in front of her, clamping hard on our link. She looks at me with a slight frown. I fish out the small ring I had stuck under the bone knife sheath and present it. It's Goblin silver, in a delicate wrought pattern with a small oval cabochon sapphire in a tone of blue close to that of her eyes. "It's a Potter betrothal ring. Will you do me the honor of wearing it?"

The moment stretches, as she looks at it. Even with the link clamped nearly shut, I can feel her uncertainty. It confuses me. She finds her words. "It's a beautiful ring, Harry."

I try to keep the hurt out of my voice. "Yes it is."

"I'm sorry. I want a collar, not a ring." She sound wistful.

My mind races through half-forgotten lessons. "A concubine? Really?" I get up. Hurt turning to anger.

"Yes."

"Why, for Merlin's sake?"

"I will not be the end of the Potter line."

"No!" I growl. I want Gabrielle in a pedestal. "I won't do this. To you, to your family or to Veela everywhere."

"You're not doing anything, Magus."

I shake my head. "It's disrespectful, Elle. Pandering to the worst kind of stereotype."

She doesn't reply, and just looks forlorn when I put the ring away. I try to get a hold of my anger. I get it, to some extent. Magicals cherish their precious bloodlines. I was raised as a muggle, and I don't remember ever meeting another Potter. So, I care about Gabrielle a lot more than about my precious thousand-year-old fucking bloodline. We walk back, both silent, both hurting and with the link clamped shut.

June 12h, 2000

It's the middle of the night. Something grabs hard on my arm. "Harry."

"Hm?"

"Harry!"

"What?"

"It's time."

I sit up, suddenly alert. "It's too soon."

Her snicker is mixed in with pain. "I don't think they care. They are coming!"

An hour later we are at St, Mungo's. Susan is resting from a bad contraction, and casts about for a distraction. "Elle?"

"She's coming."

"So, you finally opened your link again." I shrug. Gabrielle has been a sore spot for several weeks now. "You have to solve this."

"I know. I just can't see how." Ultimately, we are both right.

It's in a lull, two contractions later that Susan comes up with something. "Have you thought of offering her the Black?"

It would be nice. There's a Black heir arriving today, and House Black is not under the risk of extinction anyways. Yet... "House rules. She would have to be a pureblood. And a witch."

"Says who?"

"The Charter."

"You're a half-blood."

"So?"

"Yet, magic accepted you as Heir and as Head. Was it difficult?"

"Not at all." I recall how eager the Head ring felt when I put it in my finger. "I don't understand why, though."

"Magic trumps the Charter. You're unusually powerful."

"Still..."

"And this bond of yours is a game-changer, isn't it?"

I stare at her as another contraction arrives. Maybe...