Disclaimer: Nothing is mine; everything is J K Rowling's.

A new chapter! A nice, undramatic chapter full of fluff and romance and all things sweet. Sadly not technically a Fleur chapter though.

Chapter 59

He was woken by a warmth on his chest, a soft, pulsing heat that he knew to be from the locket Fleur had gifted him.

Groggily he searched for his wand under his pillow, casting a tempus charm once he had retrieved.

Nine.

Harry blinked, rubbed his eyes, and checked again.

The numbers didn't change.

Normally he was long since awake and up by now, he woke up at just after seven every day without fail. The extra use of the time-turner was tiring him out quicker than he had anticipated. At least this morning was without lessons, he had Runes and Herbology in the afternoon, but only History of Magic now, and he never, ever, went to that lesson.

The locket pulsed again, and Harry swiftly cast a silencing ward over his bed, transfigured his clothes and made an attempt to control his hair. Fleur would not be fooled, but he didn't want to look completely awful to her.

'Morning, Fleur,' he smiled, opening the locket.

'You finally answered,' she frowned, scrunching up her face.

'Sorry,' Harry apologised. 'I was asleep.'

'So I can see,' she smirked. 'You look quite attractive like that, come and see me, I have your polyjuice and things we need to talk about.'

'That sounds ominous,' Harry grinned. 'Have I done anything deserving of being scorched?'

'No,' she said slowly, pursing her lips to consider it, 'though I still owe you for your joke in Gringotts.'

'I was hoping you had forgotten,' Harry told her. 'If it's any consolation Katie definitely knows that I'm yours.'

'Oh,' Fleur managed to pull off complete innocence for longer than Gabrielle, but only for a moment.

'You made your mark,' Harry laughed. 'She found it funny, and then hit me over the head with a book for making the joke.'

'Good,' Fleur smiled, 'you deserved it. Now hurry up and come here,' she eyed him deliberately demurely, 'I've missed you.'

'Coming, ma princesse,' he said, holding the mirror out so she could see him bow. Fleur tried to scowl at him, but ended up smiling helplessly and shaking her head.

'Do not let Gabby hear you call me that,' she warned.

'Will it really make her interest in our romance any worse?' Harry asked.

'No,' Fleur admitted, waving goodbye, 'but she'll insist on being given the same nickname since you saved her from the lake.'

No saying that in front of Gabrielle, Harry agreed.

The inevitable moment of explanation to Fleur's parents that would follow him being seen calling both of the Delacours' daughters princesses was to be avoided at all costs.

Stripping off his pajamas, he quickly changed into a fresh set of robes, one of the few pairs he actually kept in the dormitory rather than with the rest of his things in the chamber, and pulled back the hangings.

Everyone else had gone, presumably to the Great Hall for breakfast and then back to the common room.

He disillusioned himself, sneaking out past his friends seemed easier and preferable to having to lie or mislead them. It also gave him him an alibi for the few things that were on his to do list for the day.

Harry slipped quietly downstairs, closing the hangings around his bed and warding them before he left, just in case anyone tried to check on him.

Pretty much the entirety of Gryffindor House was in the common room, as was now normal with Umbridge, her silver-badged lackeys, and Filch stalking the corridors searching for excuses to punish anyone they hated. The caretaker was particularly bad, dragging every single student he could even try and accuse to Umbridge for detention.

He was the second thing on Harry's list for the day. Argus Filch needed to be reminded just how much of a privilege in Britain it was for anyone close to non-magical, even a squib, to work at a place like Hogwarts, especially when it was the house elves that did all the work and he just got to wander around the castle yelling at nervous first years.

That, however, could come later, and he hurried a little faster along the empty corridors towards the Chamber of Secrets.

'Hi Myrtle,' he announced himself, giving the ghostly girl a cheerful wave, as he waited for the entrance to open.

She flushed and waved back.

Harry stepped into the stairwell, beyond the school wards, which he was almost certain Umbridge couldn't check since she was conveniently locked out of the Headmaster's Office. If she were not such a danger to everyone within the school he would be tempted to leave her be, as her ignorance worked in his favour.

He gave a nod to Salazar, who rolled his eyes, already having guessed where Harry was going, and snatched a sufficient handful of galleons from his slowly depleting Triwizard winnings.

With a soft snap the world spun back past him and he stepped into the atrium of the Delacours' chateau.

Fleur was waiting for him, dressed casually, with her veil of silver hair swept back over one shoulder and twirling a single vial of polyjuice potion in her hands.

'I'm here,' he smiled. The second part of his greeting was cut off by her kiss.

'You did miss me,' he commented, when she pulled back to let him breathe.

'I am unaccustomed to not being able to be with you for such a long time,' she scowled, 'it's… unpleasant, but I would be far worse if we did not have these lockets.'

Harry understood exactly what she meant. The locket was little more than temporary relief from the ache of being apart, a brief tonic that only made things all the worse after their conversations came to a close.

'I have your polyjuice,' she said, leading him up to her room.

'Thank you,' Harry exchanged the handful of galleons he'd taken for the vial. 'This looks an awful lot like badly cooked porridge,' he remarked, 'why is it that potions are always so unappealing.'

'Not all of them are,' Fleur told him absently, 'amortentia will smell exactly like what you desire most.' She frowned, double checking her counting of the money he'd given her. 'This is to much,' she told him.

'I don't have any change,' Harry shrugged. 'It doesn't matter.'

He was busy wondering exactly how amortentia would smell to him, burnt holly, he imagined, with maybe a hint of marzipan and roses.

'You are not listening.' Fleur poked him in the side, and dragged him down to sit next to her on the edge of her bed.

'Sorry, I was wondering about something,' Harry admitted.

'What were you thinking about that was able to captivate you so?' Fleur asked curiously.

'How amortentia would smell to me,' he confessed, inspecting the titles of the many books on enchanting on the opposite bookshelf.

'And how did you think it would smell?' Fleur teased, whispering her words against his neck.

'Probably a lot like you,' he decided, turning to catch her lips with his own. 'I am listening now,' he smiled.

'I was accepted by the Bureau des Énigmes,' Fleur told him.

'That's brilliant,' Harry congratulated her softly. 'I told you that you wouldn't fail.'

'I asked to delay the beginning of my role their until I had completed my contract at Gringotts,' she continued, confusing Harry completely.

'You have a contract at Gringotts?' Harry asked. 'This isn't payback for the marriage agreement joke is it?'

'No,' she poked him again, harder. 'I signed it a few days ago. I start in a few weeks as a liaison between Gringotts and the private magical artefact retrieval groups. I'll be based in London,' she smiled warmly. 'This way we won't have to endure another year like this one, and I'll be there to help you.'

'Have you spoken to your parents?' Harry inquired gently. There was nothing he would like more than to be able to openly spend time with Fleur as often as he could, but he didn't want her to sacrifice her family for him, and he certainly didn't want her in harms way, even if she was capable of defending herself.

'I did,' Fleur admitted. 'They were not ecstatic about it. They knew straight away the reason I had taken the role, I have little interest in being a liaison for Gringotts, it's basically part time and not very challenging.'

'What did they say?'

'They told me that they hoped I would reconsider, but that if I didn't they wanted me to be careful in Britain.' She laughed suddenly. 'Maman suggested that I try and apply for a role at Hogwarts if I wanted to be near you because it was safer.'

'And your father?'

'He asked about what your plans were. I think he understands that anything we plan will be for the both of us now.'

The idea gave Harry a warm, comforting glow, that melted across his chest and into his stomach.

'I told them that Voldemort would not leave you alone, that the quicker he was defeated the better and safer we would be and that I was not going to leave you alone to fight such a wizard on your own.' Fleur slipped an arm around his waist. 'I meant it, and they know that.'

'But they still aren't happy that I'm the reason you're leaving France to go somewhere that is not only prejudiced against you, but actively dangerous.' Harry had hoped that her parents had begun to accept him, they had certainly seemed to, but it seemed he might have been wrong.

'No,' Fleur nodded sadly, 'but they have accepted it. Maman certainly understands that I would be happier in Britain with you, than in France without you, and I think Papa does too. He just hopes that there might still somehow be a solution that works for all of us and keeps me safe.'

'You've decided then?'

'I have,' she kissed his cheek, 'I will work at Gringotts, it pays well enough to live off, and the percentage cut I get from any agreements I liaise on should eventually cover the cost of renting or even buying somewhere to live.'

'Have you chosen anywhere?' Harry ran a hand through his hair, thinking furiously. 'I could ward the place to make sure it's much more safe.'

'How?' Fleur quirked an eyebrow, a habit Harry was sure she had adopted from him. 'I am better with wards than you are, remember?'

'Blood magic,' Harry smirked. 'It will leave me a bit under the weather, but it's worth it to keep you safe.'

'Us,' Fleur corrected, smirking. 'I wanted to talk to you because I rather doubt you want to continue living with your relatives.'

'You want us to live together?' Harry couldn't keep the surprise from his tone, and winced slightly when Fleur looked upset. 'I just didn't expect something like that so fast,' he explained. 'I'll be sixteen.'

'We will have been together for over a year,' Fleur told him softly, 'if you include all the time we spent not speaking about how we felt the almost a year and a half. It's not such a short time, and I feel I know you well enough. If you don't want to, then I will understand.'

'I want to,' Harry said immediately. Fleur was wearing the slightly hopeful, slightly vulnerable and completely irresistible expression she always wore when she really wanted something.

'Really?' She pressed. 'I know it's a big step.'

'I want to,' Harry repeated. 'I'm more concerned about how I would be able to manage it without anyone finding out. I'm sure Dumbledore keeps an eye on me over the summer.'

He wasn't sure exactly how, but there was no way the former headmaster would allow his most important pawn to be unattended for so many months.

'Can't you just leave?' Fleur asked, puzzled.

'I am still a minor,' Harry reminded her. 'I would need the permission of either my relatives or Dumbledore, my magical guardian, and I doubt I will get either.'

'So we do it in secret,' Fleur decided. 'You go back, then you just disappear and come to live with me.'

'He will find me,' Harry disagreed. 'The Dursleys will tell him I left if he asks, and that I'm able to use magic outside of school, they have no reason to keep my secrets.'

'Memory charm them,' Fleur countered. 'I know how to cast the Fidelius Charm, with a few months practise I'm sure I can learn how to cast it, then we can't be found even if he knows you're gone.'

'We'll need a secret keeper,' Harry mused, starting to take to the idea. If they were under the Fidelius, something that Voldemort himself could not get around without the assistance of the secret keeper, then he doubted anyone would be able to find them.

'I know just who to choose,' Fleur smiled, pulling him into her. 'Someone with no obvious connection to you, but every reason in the world not to give us away. Someone who nobody will ever suspect even for a moment.'

'Who?' Harry was very aware of the consequences of choosing the wrong secret keeper.

'Gabrielle, of course,' Fleur laughed. 'Even if our relationship becomes well-known they would never expect us to entrust the secret to my baby sister, and she is well protected in France out of the eye of either Voldemort or Dumbledore.' She pulled a face. 'Why are you so worried about Albus Dumbledore?'

'I am beginning to believe he would rather make a martyr of me than anything else,' Harry answered calmly, hiding the anger he still harboured towards the old wizard.

Fleur's reaction was rather more dramatic.

Her face shifted completely, her chin and lips lengthening into a cruelly curved beak and her eyes darkening, widening and gleaming with anger. Feathers had thrust themselves through her skin, and her fingernails had lengthened into short, sharp talons.

Harry swallowed hard. He'd never seen an enraged veela quite so close before, but he didn't move away. Fleur didn't need to think he was scared or repulsed by her, nothing could be further from the truth. Oddly he still found her quite beautiful, just as he had the dancing veela at the World Cup.

She hissed angrily, sending white-hot sparks dancing over her hands, and all the feathers stood up along her neck. The air shivered away from the white fire, and the heat washing over him from it was enough to make Harry consider moving her hand slightly further away, but then Fleur took several long deep breaths and slowly shifted back.

He watched in abject fascination as her facial structure rearranged itself back into the countenance of Fleur's beautiful human form.

'Sorry,' she murmured in disconsolate French. 'I hope you do not find my other form too unattractive.'

'I actually still found you quite attractive,' he admitted, flushing at confessing something that must certainly be strange.

Fleur stared at him for a long moment, her summer sky eyes unblinking, then she crushed her lips and self against him, knocking him back onto the bed and straddling him.

'You are staying mine,' she whispered furiously between and into kisses.

'I think,' Harry replied breathlessly, 'that I could learn to live with that.'

'You will have to,' she responded archly. 'I am not letting you go.' She took another deep breath and smiled at him, eyes blazing in a manner that sent butterflies exploding across his stomach. 'It's a shame we still need to talk,' she commented, still straddling his waist.

'We do?' Harry asked plaintively.

'Yes,' Fleur nodded. 'You are not living with your relatives, not if if I have to give this up.' She shifted her hips back a little and he had to seriously fight the urge to push up against her.

'Agreed,' he grinned, losing the battle, and enjoying the way she bit her lip to keep control of herself.

'So you will leave your relatives, remove their memories to protect your secrets if you have to, and come to me. I will master the Fidelius Charm, make Gabby our secret keeper and then we can live together there for as long as we please.' Fleur smiled coyly. 'We just need to choose a place, and buy it,' she decided.

'I have a trust fund,' Harry told her, sitting up to kiss her. The friction from the change of position rather interrupted his train of thought and he had to think for a moment to remember exactly what he had been intending to say. 'It's around fifty thousand galleons, from memory.'

'That's some trust fund,' Fleur smiled, 'enough for us to discretely find a small place for ourselves if I help.'

'From what Nagnok said I suspect that the Potter family fortune is around six times that,' he grinned. 'Though I can't access any of it except that trust fund until I'm seventeen.'

'Your fund tops up every year, doesn't it?' Fleur asked, shifting herself off his lap, much to Harry's disappointment.

'Yes.'

'Good,' Fleur sighed. 'That means we won't have to get a loan to buy somewhere, only combine what we have.'

'Have looked at anywhere?' Harry queried.

'A few places that seemed like they might be affordable,' she admitted. 'I saw a nice apartment I liked, but having muggle neighbours can cause problems. There was a small house in one of the magical villages in Dorset, and a nice little place in Godric's Hollow…' she trailed off at the slightly bitter smile Harry was now wearing. 'You don't like Godric's Hollow?'

'I don't think I want to live in the village my parents were killed in,' he told her gently, aware that she would not really understand what it might be like for him. 'Maybe the other small house?'

'It's in Budleigh Baberton,' Fleur told him, 'a charming place. It's in the West Country. I could happily choose there.'

'I leave it up to you,' Harry smiled, spreading his fingers to run them playfully through her hair. 'Just not Godric's Hollow, or Ottery St Catchpole, the Weasley's live there, and they would alert Dumbledore.'

'You're going?' Fleur had heard the implicit goodbye in his tone.

'I have to,' he sighed, 'though I would very much prefer to stay, especially now we no longer have to keep talking.'

'Why do you have to?' Fleur complained.

'Now I have this,' he pulled the vial out of his robes and waved it cheerfully, 'I can get rid of Umbridge before she hurts anyone else.' His expression darkened. 'She's growing disturbingly malignant of late, and I fear what she might resort to if left in power for too long.'

'Go on then,' Fleur grouched, scowling. 'You come and visit me as soon as you can,' she ordered.

'I will,' Harry promised, 'you know I will.'

He stood up, adjusting his robes and bent to kiss Fleur goodbye. When he tried to draw away from the light kiss she tangled her hands in his hair and held his mouth against hers.

'I was expecting you to stay,' she told him wistfully. 'Use the locket, I'll let you know when I've chosen somewhere suitable.'

Harry nodded, then apparated away, trying to ignore the ache that had sprung up again in his chest at their parting.

Reappearing in Salazar's study he was immediately accosted by the painting.

'No vampires this time?' The portrait smirked.

'No,' Harry answered flatly, activating the Marauder's Map. It was time for number two on his list of things for the day.

'Up to something nefarious again?' Salazar inquired, peering futilely towards the map.

'I'm encouraging the caretaker that his role here is a privilege rather than an excuse to torment children he's clearly jealous of.' That painting shared a look with his snake, then shrugged and fell silent.

Filch was patrolling the third floor, his name marker floating up and down as if he was pacing.

Harry set off at a brisk pace, flicking his wand in and out of his palm. He had already had a good idea of how he was going to deal with the cantankerous caretaker, but it relied on him attempting something he had never tried before.

Myrtle was gone from the bathroom, though the puddle remained. Filch's name had stopped pacing up and down, and was moving slowly back down the stairs.

Harry tucked away the map, and drew his wand, not bothering to disillusion himself. He wouldn't need to worry about Filch remembering seeing him.

'What's this?' The caretaker cackled gleefully. 'A student out on his own, up to no good I reckon.'

'Hello, Filch,' Harry replied coolly.

The calm, even tone caught the squib off guard and he recoiled in surprise. 'What are you up to, Potter?' He snarled. 'You think I've forgotten what you did to my Mrs Norris?' He was almost yelling, so Harry cast a silencing ward over the area.

'Legilimens,' he whispered.

The squib never had a chance, with no magic, and no idea of what to expect Harry tore through his mind with absurd ease, following the trail of hatred and resentment back to its birth, witnessing every connected moment in half a century .

The path began with the beaming visage of a young, dark-haired, pale-eyed girl, wielding a wand in Ollivander's, and surrounded by yellow sparks. She bathed in the pride of her parents while Filch watched on, forgotten, forlorn and furious.

'Obliviate,' Harry murmured. He knew from Lockhart's implication that it was possible to modify memories, but even the gilded fraud would have baulked at what Harry was about to attempt. There were fifty years of feelings to alter, half a lifetime to change or erase, ending with their meeting on their stairs.

He purged every moment of the bitterness, every memory of watching magic and feeling the resentment well up inside him was changed. The discontent that had defined Argus Filch warped into calm acceptance, and every instant along that string of emotions was transformed into something else.

Argus Filch's eyes rolled up in his head and he slumped to the floor.

Harry flicked his wand back into his sleeve, turned on his heel, and strode back in the direction of the chamber.

Without the root of the resentment, without those bitter recollections the hatred they had fed would wither and fade. He imagined that both the students and Filch would be much happier for it.

He paused outside of Myrtle's bathroom to unfold the map, and waited until Filch's name began to move again. The caretaker continued down the stairs as he had been doing before, drifting slowly back towards his office. Harry watched until he was sure that Filch had no memory of him and wasn't about to to go search of Umbridge, then he wiped the map and tucked back into the pocket of his robes alongside the polyjuice vial.

Myrtle's bathroom opened and closed with a creak, and Harry winced instinctively at the noise even though there was nobody to hear him.

He had just stepped to the edge of the perpetual puddle when there was the familiar, loud crack of apparition and Dobby appeared in front of him.

'Dobby?' Harry inquired. The elf had never come to find him, not since his misguided attempts at protection in the second year.

To his horror the elf simply slumped onto the bathroom floor, and twisting threads of red liquid began to spread across the surface of the puddle.

Turning the elf over gently, Harry hissed in distaste, a trio of deep gaping cuts marred Dobby's upper chest and neck. The elf blinked slowly several times, eyes bright with pain.

'Master Harry Potter,' he murmured. 'Dobby saved the students,' something that was almost a smile drifted across his lips, 'Dobby saved them all.'

None of the healing charms Harry knew helped even remotely, and nothing he conjured lasted longer than a few moments before dispelling. The flow of crimson continued to blossom across Dobby's pillow case, flooding down his sides and spilling into the puddle.

In the end Harry gave up trying, his promise to take care of Dobby was nothing in the face of reality and the spreading red pool. The house elf's wounds resisted every attempt he made to heal or contain them, no matter how much magic he poured into the attempt.

He stood over the elf, watching, and feeling very hollow as the blood spread across the floor of Myrtle's bathroom, running in the lines between the tiles, bright against the white ceramic.

'Did Dobby do well?' The elf gasped, blinking furiously. 'Dobby tried to do what Harry Potter would have done,' a fresh wave of blood swept across the puddle as he shifted, 'but the nasty pink teacher was faster than before.'

'You've done better than I would have, Dobby,' Harry answered honestly, but his voice sounded ever so far away, ever so insignificant before the bright, white tiles and brighter, crimson pool. The spot of ice in his chest was spreading, distantly screaming Umbridge's name, demanding revenge, demanding justice. He could feel the icy anger, held back behind a paper thin bubble of disbelief and exhaustion.

'You're free forever now, Dobby,' Harry told him gently, taking the elf's hand in his own.

'Free,' the elf sighed, a small smile spreading over his lips as his fingers closed around Harry's. 'Dobby is free.'

AN: Please read and review, thanks to everyone who does, has or will.