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

I'm a little concerned by the handful of people who thought I was referring to myself when I asked you to guess who wasn't yet dead, that's quite a morbid mindset you guys have, either you're really afraid I might not finish this fic, or a surprising number of authors on this site die unexpectedly and nobody's warned me about the risks of joining. I literally just meant Sirius hadn't vanished through the veil.

Anyway, here's the next one, though it's inevitably a little less flashy and visual than the last two...

Chapter 66

Sirius had gone, sneaking out through the school in his animagus form, just as he had snuck in during his attempt to get to Pettigrew. There was nobody looking for him, and nobody who was capable of recognising him apart from Ron and Hermione and they were both in Gryffindor Tower according to the Marauders' Map.

'You didn't introduce me this time,' Salazar commented quietly from above the door when Harry returned early in the morning after a few hours of desperately needed sleep.

'Sirius is my godfather, I trust him, but he might not react well to my heritage if I told him that on top of everything else,' Harry explained. There had been a lot for him to take in recently, the real face of Dumbledore was a sharp shock. 'He has history with Slytherin House and the pure-blood bigotry you've become synonymous with. It's bad enough he has to return to his prison of a home and pretend to follow a man who has not even the slightest regard for his life. I'll tell him, just over time, his belief has its limits.'

'But Fleur's does not?' Slytherin inquired.

'No,' Harry smiled, 'but if you never see me again after today you know that I was wrong.'

'It serves you right,' the portrait smirked, 'you've hardly spoken to her in the last week or so.'

'I was busy,' Harry shrugged, 'she'll understand.' Fleur would understand, he was confident of that, but he was rather less confident that she wouldn't be absolutely furious with him first. That was why he was having this talk with Salazar before leaving. If Fleur wanted him to spend time with her for a bit now she was in Britain he could do it without out having to interrupt their time to talk with the painting.

'My wife would have understood,' the portrait agreed, 'but she would have made sure I felt every iota of her anger at being sidelined and not told I was doing something very dangerous.'

'I told her it was going to happen soon,' Harry reminded him. 'Don't you want to know what happened?'

'I was waiting for you to tell me.'

'Well it didn't exactly go to plan,' Harry started wryly. 'We got in, and to the prophecy easily enough,' he didn't bother mentioning the mirror or the strange archway, 'but we got caught between Bellatrix Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy, and the way out, so we had to fight.'

'You seemed to have come out unscathed,' the painting commented, 'were they any good?'

'I heal fast,' Harry reminded him, poking his finger through one of the numerous holes in his robes, then switching them for a fresh, slightly less well ventilated pair . 'They were both quite competent, certainly more experienced and better versed in duelling than I was, but not as fast or as powerful.'

'I told you the rituals would help you,' Salazar pointed out, raising his chin ever so slightly. A gesture of smugness that was completely ruined by the serpent mimicking him from around his neck.

'Are you going to let me finish?' Harry asked acidly.

'No,' Slytherin snarked. 'You should go and see Fleur now, then come leave her and come back here while she's still angry with you, that's a much better idea.' Harry's flat stare did nothing to dull the glitter of amusement in Salazar's dark eyes.

'We duelled, for a long time,' Harry recalled, realising with some disbelief just how much energy he must have spent. 'It was an even match in the basement where I couldn't use my most powerful spells without bringing down the building, but once we got up to the atrium I eventually just overpowered Bellatrix. I'm a lot more powerful now, she must have been exhausted by the time she lost.'

'She was talented at duelling though?' Salazar inquired.

'To use her own words,' Harry snorted, 'nobody has ever beaten her except the Dark Lord. I believe she might have been exaggerating a little, and she was likely weakened having only just escaped from Azkaban, but there aren't many wizards or witches that I would confidently back to beat her regardless.'

'Good,' Slytherin said fiercely, 'so you defeated her and returned here?'

'Not even close,' Harry grinned. 'Guess again.'

'Or you could just tell me,' Salazar remarked bitingly.

'I thought you wanted to guess,' Harry said, feigning innocence.

'This is me telling you that I don't want to guess,' the painting stated. 'Must you act like Godric? I thought we were past this this phase of immaturity.'

'Bellatrix wasn't quite what I would call sane,' Harry told the portrait, ignoring the last comment completely. It was sad when he considered it, whatever she had seen had been so horrifying to her that it had forced her to flee from reality, leaving a childish witch still capable of accidental magic when pushed to it. 'She managed to break the orb that held the prophecy, and we both heard it.'

'I presume you killed her then,' Salazar deduced.

'Of course,' Harry replied calmly, 'ruthlessness when required.'

'So what did it say?'

'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…' Harry paused to regain his breath. 'It can be interpreted in several different ways.'

'Yes,' the painting mused, 'yes it can.'

'Do you believe it holds?" Harry asked. 'I know little about the rules of prophecy.'

'What rules?' Salazar asked acidly. 'A genuine prophecy always comes true, but whether that is because people twist events to suit their interpretation, because people have fulfilled it themselves, or simply because the prophecy is true I do not know.'

'So I should assume that what it implies must eventually come to pass?'

'Yes,' Salazar replied seriously. 'Voldemort believed in it enough to try to kill you as a baby, Dumbledore has been throwing away the lives of his followers guarding just the record of it, they both will insist on ensuring that the outcome they desire comes to pass.'

'Dumbledore knows the whole thing,' Harry said simply, 'but I traded a half-truth to Voldemort in return for being able to escape the Department of Mysteries with Sirius.'

'He was there?'

'How else was he supposed to acquire the prophecy? Only one who is the subject of a prophecy can remove it from the records.'

'I didn't know that,' Slytherin remarked. 'Prophecies are quite fascinating really. I do wonder if a prophecy that was told but never heard or learnt about would actually come to pass.'

'Is the answer to that immediately important?' Harry asked snidely.

'Just because it seems to have no relevance now does not mean it will not be useful later,' Slytherin sulked. 'What did you tell Voldemort?'

'I told him the penultimate line,' Harry smirked. 'I thought it would be enough of the truth to imply I might not be a direct threat, but I don't think he really believed me.'

'The Tom Riddle I knew would never have fallen for such an obvious trick,' Salazar agreed, 'but he must have had a reason for letting you go.'

'He wants to see what I will become,' Harry remembered. 'You told him to find equals too, didn't you?'

'Everything I have told you, I once told him,' something bitter passed across the portrait's face, 'I only hope that you listen better, or, maybe, that whatever I said to drive him into becoming Voldemort you ignore.'

'He considers me similar to himself, an equal in the making,' Harry realised, 'a potential threat he allows to exist out of a curiosity born from what you once almost convinced him to believe.'

'I think you are likely right,' Salazar said softly. 'Voldemort is not Tom Riddle. The brilliant boy I taught here has been consumed and become something quite different to what I hoped. Tom would have never been arrogant enough to allow such a threat to exist, no matter how curious he was. He would have made an ally or a corpse of you.'

'He tried,' Harry reminded the founder. 'When he learnt of the prophecy he tried to kill every child who might fulfil it.'

'By sending his followers out to slaughter babies and marching off himself before understanding or even considering the coincidences of his actions.' Salazar seemed more disappointed than anything else. 'Perhaps his horcruxes and apparent immortality made him believe himself untouchable. He was always quite detached from others and it grew worse as he grew stronger. I suppose it doesn't matter, Dumbledore will not stop trying to engineer the outcome he wants from the prophecy, and Voldemort's curiosity at your similarities will only last as long as it's convenient for him.'

'I do not expect to escape him in such a manner again,' Harry agreed, 'neither wizard will stop their attempts to bring about my death. Voldemort will at least be direct, but Dumbledore, I think Sirius may have been correct when he said he expects my willing sacrifice to act as my mother's once did.'

'It would be very convenient for him,' Salazar's face twisted with disgust, 'the living horcrux is destroyed, Voldemort defeated-'

'And all in such a pure-hearted and noble manner,' Harry finished darkly. 'He will not even stop if I kill Voldemort, because he will never be able to overcome the doubt that while I live, Voldemort does too.'

'His desire to make you a martyr makes him marginally less dangerous now we know of the prophecy,' Slytherin decided. 'He will not risk you dying at the hand of anyone but Voldemort, and he will do everything he can to make sure you go willingly, forewarned and alone.'

'I am out of his influence for the time being,' Harry said confidently. 'I will not be returning to the Dursley's, Sirius will keep me abreast of the Order's movements, and I will be safe under the Fidelius Charm.'

'As long as you choose the right secret keeper,' Salazar reminded him.

'I know the perfect person,' Harry grinned. 'Someone nobody will ever suspect.'

'So long as you're sure,' the painting said sceptically, 'but I'd add some wards too if I were you.'

'Blood wards,' Harry assumed, 'that's probably a good idea.'

'All my ideas are good,' Salazar told him, 'well,' his face darkened, 'most of them are.'

'I should go and meet Fleur,' Harry decided. 'I'm going to surprise her, hopefully a happy surprise will save me a scorching.'

'I don't think it will,' the founder sniggered, 'but I wish you luck.'

'Thanks,' Harry responded dryly.

'I'll think about this prophecy for you while you're off begging for forgiveness, the more possible interpretations we know of the better off we will be. Forewarned is forearmed. We need to speak about the future more when you return, so don't stay away too long.' It had been a while since Salazar had come up with a sensible saying he hadn't yet heard, even if that had sounded a little familiar, and Harry could only agree. He was a little concerned about his ancestor's desire to talk about the future. It sounded awfully ominous, but his good humour at knowing he would soon see Fleur swiftly over came the feeling.

'Have fun.' Harry cheerfully waved his goodbye before disillusioning himself and apparating with a soft snap to the steps of Gringotts.

Diagon Alley was busy. The stores were starting to open and the first wave of visitors swept or apparated in along the length of the alley.

Harry appeared on top of a short, balding wizard who flinched violently away from the unexpected contact, losing his hat in the process. The startled man looked around wildly for the culprit before retrieving his hat and taking off towards the Leaky Cauldron muttering under his breath.

Finding Fleur proved more difficult than Harry had anticipated in the crowd. He knew she was briefly renting a room at the Leaky Cauldron, but she wasn't there when he followed the short wizard in to look for her, and he was sure he wouldn't find her out in the crowds of the Alley. There were few places Fleur would rather not be than alone among a crowd of male, English wizards.

In the end he wandered down the alley back towards Gringotts, scanning the gaps in the crowd for the telltale shimmer of her disillusionment charm, and wondering if it might be a better idea to just use the lockets to tell her.

Eventually, after several trips from one end of the alley to the other, he caught a ripple of distorted air over one of the benches by the bank entrance, as if someone almost invisible had suddenly risen from the seat.

Harry followed the shimmer through the crowd with some difficulty, nearly losing the invisible figure several times, but eventually catching it when the distortion stopped and vanished in front of a stall that was just beginning to put out stacks of the day's Daily Prophet.

Break In a the Department of Mysteries, Harry read from the front page, Atrium Destroyed in Overnight Duel Between Intruders. Bellatrix Lestrange Found Dead.

It rather ruined his plan to surprise her and then ease her gently into the news, but at least he was sure that the invisible figure was Fleur. The steady stream of French swearing, threats and repetition of his name was more than enough to convince him of that.

'It wasn't half as exciting as they make it sound,' Harry said hopefully, stepping alongside her. There was a soft gasp in the midst of her torrent of furious french, then a distinctly taloned hand closed itself around his arm and led him across the alley under the brightly coloured umbrellas of one of the many cafés there.

Her disillusionment charm had slipped with his appearance, so he abandoned his, wincing at the resurgent flare of anger in the large, dark eyes of her partially transformed face when he appeared in front of her.

'Sit,' she ordered, pushing him none too gently into one of the seats. 'You have a lot of talking to do.' Fleur took a couple of deep breaths, closed her eyes, and gradually her facial structure shifted back to its normal place.

'I suppose I do, don't I,' Harry agreed tentatively. 'Where would you like me to start?'

'How about at the reason for not telling me any of what you've been doing for the last week or so?'

Apparently that wasn't the right question, Harry realised.

'I did tell you that things were going to happen and I might not be able to see you,' Harry defended. He hadn't been that bad, it wasn't like he hadn't warned her. 'Everything had to happen really quickly,' he explained hurriedly at the decidedly avian glare he received, 'I didn't have time to tell you everything.'

'No time,' Fleur considered, as if it were the single least believable thing she had ever heard. 'Not even a few moments to let me know you'd got rid of your repulsive headmistress, or a minute to warn me that you were going to the Department of Mysteries after the prophecy.'

'Don't say that too loudly,' Harry warned, 'the last thing we need is for me to be in Azkaban for the foreseeable future.'

'I'd probably get the same amount of attention from you,' Fleur retorted angrily.

She's being a lot less reasonable than I expected.

'I should have warned you,' Harry relented, more to pacify her temper than out of any real sense of guilt. It was understandable that she was upset, but there wasn't all that much he could have done about it. 'I'm sorry. I got caught up in things.'

'It never happens again,' Fleur told him, her tone strict, but horribly fragile. 'I've spent every single day here in Britain worrying about why I hadn't heard from you. I knew you were about to go after it,' she clenched her jaw and blinked furiously, 'I was worried you might not have managed to get out again, and then I read the paper today.'

'I nearly didn't,' Harry admitted quietly. 'Things didn't go as we planned. Voldemort went after it too.'

'Lestrange?' Fleur asked softly.

'Yes,' Harry answered, knowing she would not care that he had killed her. 'Malfoy and Voldemort himself too. It was a close run thing,' he grinned, then hissed in pain when Fleur drove her heel into the top of his foot.

'It isn't funny,' she whispered furiously. 'I've been on the verge of panic. I do not like having to wait helplessly to hear you are still alive.'

'Now I know how Gabrielle feels,' Harry groaned, nursing his injury. Fleur was a lot stronger than she looked.

'I don't do it so hard to Gabby,' Fleur told him, smiling vindictively, 'you deserve it. Now keep talking.'

Harry briefly considered rebellion, or bribing her with kisses, but decided he did need to tell her, and she was likely to stamp on him if he told her later anyway. 'Sirius and I duelled Malfoy and Lestrange after acquiring the prophecy, my godfather and Malfoy ended up unconscious in the atrium, Bellatrix and I both heard the prophecy, but I killed her when Voldemort arrived so she couldn't tell him.'

'He was there,' Fleur paled and tugged anxiously at her little finger, running her eyes over him to make sure he was all there and unharmed.

'I duelled him for a bit, but when the floor network lit up I convinced him to let me leave with Sirius once I told him the rest of the prophecy, then he left with Malfoy and I apparated out.' 'So you both know what the prophecy says?' Fleur cocked her head curiously.

'No,' Harry smirked. 'I lied.' Fleur's smile was distinctly proud as he related the entirety of the prophecy to him. 'I told him the line about him marking me as his equal, but not the actual last line. He wouldn't have let me leave alive if I had.'

Fleur's hand slipped over the table top to squeeze his.

'Dumbledore knows the entire thing,' Harry frowned, 'and I fear he has interpreted it in such a fashion that requires me to sacrifice myself for the Greater Good.'

'I hope,' Fleur said carefully, drawing circles on the back of his hand, 'that you aren't even considering such a ridiculous idea.'

'Of course not,' Harry laughed softly. 'If I had not seen the truth of the man maybe I might have, but I know too well how little he cares for me or anyone else. He's spent too long labouring over abstract concepts of nobility and lost sight of the people themselves.'

'Will he try to hurt you?' Fleur asked softly.

'No,' Harry shook his head confidently. 'I must willingly walk to my death at Voldemort's hand, and my sacrifice will then somehow unleash some hidden, magical power that will destroy the Dark Lord, just as he believes my mother's sacrifice did.'

'That's ridiculous,' Fleur spat, stopping her circling on his hand.

'He's quite wrong,' Harry agreed. 'My mother's sacrifice was linked to blood magic, not some pure-hearted, unintentional, love-based shield. I am grateful for his delusions though, else I would likely be long dead.'

Fleur looked a little puzzled by that, but made no comment, and Harry remembered then that he had never told he had once been a horcrux.

'Dumbledore arrived just as I left and long after the duel should have ended,' Harry said distantly. 'I would wager a great many things that Snape, his Death Eater spy, had told him that the prophecy was being stolen tonight, and that he intended to let me be lured there, or knew of my plan to take the orb myself already. He has meddled in my life since before it began, and will continue to do so at every opportunity.'

'So stop him,' Fleur suggested angrily. 'You can't let him keep throwing you into Voldemort's path in the hope you die.'

'I cannot openly fight both of them at the same time, and if I defeat Voldemort then Dumbledore will likely still try to kill me,' Harry admitted, realising now that there was nothing for it. He would have to tell her about the horcrux he had once been.

'Why?' Fleur demanded.

'I told you about horcruxes,' Harry prompted her quietly, 'any object can become one, living or otherwise.'

'You're a horcrux,' Fleur didn't need much prompting to work it out, but Harry hated the way the life seemed to drain from her face at the revelation, even if it was only for a moment, and wished he could have spared her from it completely.

'I was,' Harry corrected. 'I am no longer, the fragment of his soul was torn from mine. Salazar said it had either returned to him, or it has been assimilated into my own and destroyed.' He was rather more fond of the former explanation than the latter, but either was preferable over remaining a vessel for a piece of Voldemort's soul.

'So if you do not die Dumbledore will never believe that Voldemort truly has,' Fleur realised slowly and coolly. 'I assume you have considered telling him and doubt he will believe you.'

'He has invested too many sacrifices and too much time in his plan for me to let any evidence-less claim sway him.'

With increasingly icy determination he realised what he would have to do. Dumbledore wouldn't let him walk away free after Voldemort was defeated, and the old man was a formidable foe to have focused upon him.

I can't allow such a threat to exist.

'It's the only way,' Fleur told him bluntly. 'If he will not let us be to live our lives, then we will have to make sure he does.'

'I don't need to kill him,' Harry decided, ignoring the bright, painfully cold point of fury in his chest that believed the old wizard deserved it. 'I can pretend to be his hero still, then find some way to trick him into thinking I have died. I survived the Killing Curse once, maybe he will believe that I survived it again through the power of love, or some part of being a horcrux.' He was clutching at straws, there was no easy, harmless way of removing the ancient wizard from his path, and he knew it too.

'Was that all that happened at the Department of Mysteries?' Fleur asked, changing the subject rather than trying to needlessly argue with him.

For a fleeting moment Harry remembered their reflections in the cold, misty, metal surface of the Mirror of Erised and the clear dream of a silver-haired, green-eyed girl between them, but he knew better than to let the visions of the mirror influence him.

'That was everything,' he answered evenly.

'Then let's go to Gringotts,' she decided, rising in one, smooth, elegant motion and pulling Harry up after her. 'I have drawn up a contract to purchase the small home in Budleigh Babberton for around one hundred and ten thousand galleons, once we've paid a certain percentage it will become binding, the house will be ours, and we then have a decade to pay the rest off.'

'Ah,' Harry grinned, taking her arm and concealing them both from view, 'you want me to empty my fault for you.'

'For us,' Fleur reminded him, but she was smiling.

'Then let's go,' he agreed. 'I can check to see if any of my attempts to claim the holdings of other extinct families has paid off.'

'Is it likely?'

'No,' Harry conceded, 'the goblin in Paris hinted at the possibility of one small vault, but nothing more than a half-paid dowry.'

'That's a shame,' Fleur shrugged, 'but hardly a problem. We are both talented enough to work wherever we want, and while the house is not cheap it will not lose any of its value.'

'So modest,' Harry sighed.

'Hush,' Fleur admonished him playfully as they snuck through the door of Gringotts and looked about for an empty desk to go to.

'There's one on the far side,' Harry told her, ending their concealment, and walking as unobtrusively as possible along the line of desks.

'What can I help you with?' The goblin asked, fixing them with a calculating stare.

'I made an enquiry about inheriting a number of vaults from different families not long ago,' Harry began, but the goblin grinned and cut him off.

'Mr Potter,' the grin widened to reveal a set of very sharp teeth, 'you caused quite a stir with some of your claims, step this way and a spokesgoblin will be with you shortly.'

The still grinning goblin ushered them into a small room in the corridor just behind his desk and then hurried off in search of the spokesgoblin, presumably his superior.

'I seem to have caused trouble,' he commented idly in the silence after the goblin left.

'You're quite gifted at it,' Fleur replied, leaning gently into him, 'worse than Gabrielle.'

'That seems a little unfair,' he chuckled.

'Perhaps,' Fleur sniffed, 'but my baby sister hasn't destroyed any centres of government in the last week.'

'Give her a few years,' Harry grinned.

An older, more wrinkled goblin entered the room, carrying a file half as wide as Harry's waist.

'I am Bodak,' he announced imperiously, dropping the file on the table with a loud thud, 'the senior spokesgoblin for Gringotts in Britain, it is a pleasure to meet you, Mr Potter, and I presume this is Miss Delacour.'

It was not even close to a question. The goblin knew exactly who Fleur was, the information had likely been passed on from Paris that Harry had come inquiring about things accompanied by the Delacour family.

'The pleasure is mine,' Harry replied evenly, curling his toes at how much like his uncle he sounded.

'Oh no,' Bodak grinned, 'the pleasure is ours, we haven't had a request as interesting as yours in some time.' He opened the file, pulling out the top piece of parchment, an ancient, worn looking thing covered in faded writing that had been torn deliberately in half, then taped together and stamped in gobbledegook.

'This is the marriage agreement between one Shelagh Slytherin and Rufinus Gaunt, it was annulled after the former had a child out of wedlock with another man and died giving birth. Gaunt married Shelagh's sister instead, but the dowry was never paid because the bastard child never claimed his mother's name and nobody from the Gaunt family could claim it while his line lived since they owed it to the Slytherin family. It might interest you to know that the bastard child was quietly adopted by a member of the Potter family afterwards, and thus the dowry belongs to you now you have claimed the name. That dowry is, once adjusted for inflation, about sixty five thousand galleons.'

'And the other inquiries?'

'Unsuccessful,' Bodak answered curtly. 'Though you would have a claim on anything they had left there is nothing to be claimed.'

'Thank you,' Harry smiled. He was quite a bit richer than he had expected to be, and he now knew where the connection to Salazar in his family tree likely came from.

'Should I transfer the money into the Potter family vault?' Bodak asked.

'No,' Fleur answered for him, 'there is a contract drawn up under both our names for a property in Budleigh Babberton, we would like to make the first payment on it.'

Bodak looked between them, then nodded when Harry did not disagree. 'I'll transfer the money straight from the dowry account to the former owner's,' the goblin decided. He looked vaguely contemplative for a moment. 'I can pay the rest of the cost of the property if I take the money from your trust vault, Mr Potter, it will simplify things, though we will have to adjust the contract since the house will technically belong to you in its entirety.'

Harry raised an eyebrow discreetly at Fleur who smiled to show him that she didn't mind living his his house as opposed to their house.

'How much will be left in my trust vault?' He asked.

'Approximately a thousand galleons,' Badok answered immediately. 'It will be topped up in a few months time, though, and it remains impossible for you to exhaust more than half your inheritance until you come of age.'

'Do it,' Harry decided. He could survive on a thousand galleons for over a year if he really needed to.

'It will be done, Mr Potter,' Badok extended one long fingered hand in his direction which Harry shook firmly, hiding his distaste at the cold, leathery texture of the goblin's skin.

'I assume Gringotts will take its brokerage cut,' Fleur commented.

'The ten percent commission is included in the initial price on the contract, Miss Delacour,' Bodak assured her. 'The property will be yours in no more time than it takes me to walk from this room to my office.'

That, apparently, was farewell, since Badok scooped up his enormous file and swept out.

'I'll pay you back half the cost of the house when I can afford it,' Fleur said quietly, 'we can do it officially through Gringotts to ensure we have half each.'

'I don't mind,' Harry told her, frowning slightly. 'I'd rather we were both safe together.'

'I don't like being in your debt,' Fleur responded stubbornly.

'You're so proud,' Harry told her, trying and failing to sound anything other than besotted. Fleur's chin shifted a little higher, but she made no other response to his comment. 'Do you think we can go to our new house now?' He wondered.

'Badok said it would be ours in a few minutes,' Fleur smiled, 'and when I went to have a look it was already empty and ready to be moved into. We'll need to buy some furniture though.'

'So we could go now and cast the Fidelius Charm,' Harry suggested. The sooner they were safely concealed in their new home the better. He was relatively safe at Hogwarts, but Diagon Alley, where Fleur was currently staying, was a big target. It would be nice to have somewhere he could relax, somewhere they knew they could always go back to and be safe.

'Let's go and kidnap our capricious, little secret keeper,' Fleur agreed, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

AN: Please read and review!