Disclaimer: Nothing is mine; everything is J K Rowling's.
The next chapter!
I appreciate all your responses, diverse and interesting as they were, and I must admit I mostly agree with the general consensus, even if I find it almost impossible to write a completely selfless character without cringing horribly every other sentence. There are some wince-worthy moments in this fic too, but at least their jarring inconsistency in character is in keeping with the plot, so it's not too terrible. Maybe if get around to rewriting - which I almost certainly will given my inability to type sentences without missing out words - I'll throw in a little more depth here and there. I've been fairly light with Fleur in the interest of keeping things moving along at the right pace, but the odd sentence to embellish her character wouldn't go amiss.
Anyway, enjoy!
Chapter 86
'Excellent, Hermione,' Slughorn beamed, chins wobbling as he squeezed his belly past her cauldron and Ron's. 'Exemplary work! Everyone here could learn a thing or two from you,' he chuckled, 'well,' he caught sight of Harry's equally perfect potion, 'everyone except Harry, of course.'
'Thank you, sir,' Hermione smiled, though her eyes flickered irritatedly towards Harry's cauldron. She shut her book, stuffing the tattered tome swiftly into her bag, and then carefully labelled a flask for Slughorn to mark.
Harry set his own flask down next to hers.
'Nearly identical,' she sniffed, frowning.
'Joint top of the year,' Harry sighed, 'such a catastrophe.'
Hermione laughed, and shook her head. 'There are more important things than books and grades,' she echoed, so softly it was almost sad. 'I forgot that briefly,' her face hardened, 'but not anymore.'
'You won't mind me looking at your potions textbook then?' Harry asked innocently. He was fairly sure that her sudden increase in talent was down to the battered book she kept with her at all times.
'Get your own,' she dismissed. 'It's identical.'
'But mine's in my bag,' Harry continued evenly.
'So's mine,' Hermione countered.
'I'll steal it,' Harry told her bluntly. 'In the night I will come up to your dormitory and take it,' he grinned wickedly, 'along with every pair of panties in the tower, just to let my father's legacy continue.'
'Fine,' Hermione sighed. 'It has a few annotations, they're useful, but I don't know who wrote them.'
She extracted the book from her bag and opened it, still holding it out of Harry's sight. 'Since you already seem to know this stuff I can show you without giving any of my advantage away, but you have to promise not to tell anyone.'
'I promise,' Harry said quickly.
'See,' she opened the book, 'lots of annotations, nothing more.'
The book's margins were filled with cramped, slanted script that Harry recognised immediately.
She has the same assistance I do, he realised, amused.
'Mystery solved,' Harry grinned. 'I was curious.'
'Just curious?'
'You got better very quickly,' he shrugged. 'I hope you're not trusting everything you find in there without thinking it through?'
'It seems harmless so far,' Hermione defended, 'but of course I'm not. If it seemed like it wouldn't work I wouldn't do it, but they all work so far.'
'I imagine most of them will,' Harry remarked. 'It belonged to our former professor of this subject when he was younger.'
'Snape?' Hermione gasped.
'So take it with a pinch of salt,' Harry warned. 'He may be a member of the Order now, but he's always loved the Dark Arts.'
'I know,' Hermione scowled, emphasising the shadows under her eyes, 'he goes on about them as if he were in love. Parvati, who sleeps in the bed next to mine, has been having nightmares every now and again about her sister becoming an inferi, and strangling her.' She shuddered. 'I've not seen Parvati look so terrified.'
'He's not wrong though,' Harry mused. 'The things the Ministry classifies as dark are often powerful, it's better Parvati know how to destroy an inferius and lose a little sleep, than get ripped apart by one.'
Hermione's frown deepened. 'They are illegal for a reason,' she stated matter-of-factly, 'Snape makes them look attractive to students like Malfoy who have few morals, and too much ambition.'
'He's a lost cause already,' Harry said calmly, 'you saw how he was stealing around again while we were at Slughorn's party? I doubt he was intending to gatecrash when Filch found him.' He was quite curious to see if she had learnt, or seen, anything that might prove useful in discerning Malfoy's role in Voldemort's plans.
'I did,' Hermione tucked the book back away, 'he seems particularly hateful of you, now.'
I killed one of his friends, and stood alongside Sirius when he scarred his father.
Malfoy actually had a couple of genuine reasons to hate him now. Which made him all the more concerned about why he was lurking around the potion's labs at odd hours.
'He's always disliked me,' Harry dismissed. Hermione looked sceptical as she lugged her book-heavy bag out of the lab towards Charms, leaving Harry to drift slowly out in her wake. They rarely exchanged more than a few words, especially since they now only shared one lesson in which they could speak. Nobody wanted to risk Snape's temper, and Advanced Arithmancy required all of Harry's attention.
'Draco.' The whisper was so quiet Harry barely heard it, and if he had not become accustomed to listening closely for the slightly inflections that indicated emotion in Snape's tone he would never have noticed the hint of desperation within.
A sly glance behind him in the reflection of the window revealed Malfoy being half-dragged into a nearby empty classroom.
Well, Harry decided, this might be interesting.
It was fortunate that he had decided to keep his cloak on him at all times. While it was safer in the chamber, Harry felt more comfortable carrying it around with him; it was his tangible proof that the Resurrection Stone existed, and both a reminder of his goal, and a constant comfort.
Pulling it over his head, and casting an array of charms to conceal his footsteps sound and shape, he slipped through the door a moment before Snape pulled it shut.
'What do you think you're doing?' The professor hissed. 'You know the task that the Dark Lord has given you.'
'This is the only way I survive carrying it out,' Malfoy shot back. 'He murdered Theo, he's probably the one who maimed my father, and he'll curse me again without hesitation.'
'It was Sirius Black who charred your father's face,' Snape told him, disgusted, 'petty revenge will get you killed. The Dark Lord may not have commanded his followers to leave Potter be, but that is because he believes them incapable of killing him. He still wants to defeat Potter himself, he is simply confident that he is now the only one capable of it.'
'Potter isn't that powerful,' Malfoy sneered.
'Barty Crouch Junior,' Snape interjected bluntly, 'Peter Pettigrew, Bertha Jorkins, Bellatrix Lestrange, Avery, Yaxley, Macnair, Jugson, Nott, and Theodore too.'
He knows about almost all of them, Harry realised. And he is perfectly placed to tell Dumbledore and Riddle about anything I do in the future.
'I don't believe you,' Malfoy shook his head.
'The Dark Lord has attributed those losses to Potter himself,' Snape's lips curled, 'disagree with him at your own risk.'
'Then the Dark Lord is wrong!'
'Do you really think so?' Snape tutted. 'You're being foolish, both in not believing what is plain to see, and in drawing attention to yourself. Complete the task the Dark Lord has given you, and remain safe at Hogwarts for the rest of the war.'
'Like you care whether I am safe or not,' Malfoy retorted bitterly. 'I know about the oath you gave my mother. You just want me to be successful so you don't have to follow through on your Unbreakable Vow and risk your own skin for once.'
'Be quiet,' Snape hissed, 'you petulant, arrogant infant. You know nothing about what you speak, and clearly very little about what you're doing too.' His black eyes burned with rage. 'I am trying to keep you alive, and antagonising Potter is a very very stupid thing to do. In fact,' Snape's mouth crooked suddenly into a small smile, 'the only thing more dangerous is to antagonise the Dark Lord himself.'
'If he is so powerful and dangerous why doesn't the Dark Lord do something about him?' Malfoy asked, not fully convinced, but cowed by Snape's wrath.
'He does not believe that Potter will do anything to directly oppose him unless his hand is forced,' Snape explained slowly. 'He thinks that their conflicts so far have been coincidence, the work of Dumbledore, or retaliation for losses at the hand of the other. This is why your mission, and its timing, are so crucial. Once your target is dead, Potter will move directly against the Dark Lord, and drop the act he so convincingly wields. That act only exists for Dumbledore,' Snape warned, 'he is the only wizard Potter believes himself outmatched by on the side of the light.'
'Then he is as arrogant as always,' Malfoy smirked.
'Is he?' Snape frowned imperceptibly. 'You've fed him enough aconite to kill half the school, and he hasn't even noticed. Those Death Eaters he killed, they didn't die in their sleep, nor were they killed from behind. Your aunt was a formidable duellist, despite her madness, and the effects of fifteen years imprisonment in Azkaban, and she was pulled out of the fountain in front of the Ministry of Magic the same day Potter spent walking around school without a scratch on him.'
I am definitely checking my food from now on, Harry decided. If not for my ritual I would be dead, and who knows how many others around me have come close to dying.
Snape's judgement was also a little harsh on Bellatrix, she had inflicted plenty of scratches, Harry simply healed fast.
'Maybe he has noticed.' Malfoy swallowed hard.
'You would already be dead,' Snape disagreed. 'Potter does not play with his food like some our foolish allies, especially not those who endanger his friends. If he knows, and you still live, then you have only more reason to fear, because that means he is saving you for something.'
'You speak about him the same way you talk about Dumbledore, and the Dark Lord,' Malfoy noted quietly.
'Occasionally a wizard is born with the potential to be more than great,' Snape murmured silkily. 'You are a strong wizard, for your age, as am I, but the Dark Lord, Dumbledore and Potter are all a little bit beyond the rest of us. Potter is young, and already formidable. He is the weakest of the three, but also the most dangerous. Dumbledore and the Dark Lord have clear goals. Dumbledore is a champion of his Greater Good, a purer form of the philosophy Grindelwald once advocated, and the Dark Lord seeks dominion, obedience and recognition, because he believes himself the strongest, but Potter, Potter has no objectives. He is ruthless, cunning, powerful, and unpredictable. Stop baiting him, before you get us both killed.'
'It will just be me,' Malfoy laughed tiredly. 'My father's connections are cut, his wealth is useless now, and my mother is not a fighter. I am the only useful Malfoy remaining, and this is my family's punishment for failing the Dark Lord.'
'If you're cunning nobody will suspect you, and you will escape notice, remaining here safely when Potter leaves these walls to openly oppose the Dark Lord.'
'I am already being watched,' Malfoy admitted. 'The mudblood Granger is watching me as often as she is Potter.'
'Do not use that word,' Snape sneered. 'The Dark Lord despises muggles, not muggle-borns, power is power, and magic is magic, no matter the source.'
'Pure-bloods have more magic, and more power,' Malfoy dismissed. Clearly this was an argument they had had before, likely every year since he had come to Hogwarts.
'Go,' Snape ordered, pulling open the door, 'and stop drawing attention to your task.'
'Our task,' Malfoy corrected, smirking slightly. 'Don't forget your vow, professor.'
He left before Snape could respond, but Harry was there to witness the spy's hands curl into fists, and hear his teeth grind in anger before he too departed. Malfoy might have decided to stop poisoning him, potentially, since he had made no promises, but Snape was still magically bound to assist him should he fail.
Malfoy always fails, Harry noted thoughtfully. Snape will not.
Whomever their target was had to be either important, or already easy to eliminate for Snape to give such an oath, and the only person Harry could think of who fitted, given what he knew about Snape's potions, was Dumbledore. Nobody else was particularly important to Voldemort, since he had been excluded already, and Harry rather felt that it might be prudent to eliminate Malfoy's more competent assistance.
An Unbreakable vow could not be avoided for long, not with Malfoy consistently failing, and Harry had no need of Snape if keeping him alive helped Voldemort more than it did him.
When Snape is gone, so soon might Dumbledore be, Harry remembered, with a soft smirk.
That meant that killing Voldemort would be down to him, and him alone, Fleur would not be involved in that duel, not if he could help it, not that Dumbledore seemed to have any intention of engineering any other outcome.
His death will allow me to oppose Voldemort as I wish, Snape's skills will be a serious loss to Voldemort, and to Dumbledore if he survives the withering curse without Snape's potion.
Truthfully Harry was not sure if Dumbledore would be able to find another source for that potion, it seemed likely, given his reputation, but it hardly mattered. If he survived, the status quo that Harry was prospering in would continue, and if he died, then Harry had outlasted half his crucible, and the more knowledgeable, more popular half at that. Nobody in the Ministry questioned Dumbledore now Fudge had fallen from grace. Voldemort was understandably less well regarded by the general wizarding public.
As long as I am beyond suspicion, Harry realised.
If he was suspected, by anyone, or, worse, implicated, then everything would be thrown into chaos.
Still under the cloak he made his way towards Snape's classroom and office. Hopefully the wizard would be absent, or teaching, and Harry would be able to slip through to get what he wanted unobserved.
Snape was teaching.
A class of rather intimidated second years were ineffectively shooting red sparks at one another while Snape acidly assured them that any Grindylow they encountered had found itself an easy meal.
Harry suppressed a chuckle at the class unfortunate enough to reap Snape's bad mood, and slipped, silently down through the middle of the class, pausing only to let the occasional jet of sparks pass in front of him.
Snape was so fixated on his class' failings that he did not notice the door to his office quietly open and shut, and none of the second years dared risk looking up for fear of catching their professor's gaze.
How to do it? Harry wondered.
He'd already considered it briefly. Snape's habit of drinking Blackberry wine from the same set of glasses was not so safe as he thought. Although his office was heavily warded, Harry's hallow let him stroll in and out undetected.
Helping himself to one of the glass goblets he tucked it beneath his cloak, and then surveyed the small series of cupboards and jars along the walls.
Aconite, aconite, aconite, he searched.
There was plenty left. Snape, it seemed, rarely used it.
Perfect.
Malfoy must have some stashed away somewhere, and he had been none too subtly stealing it from Slughorn under Hermione's watchful gaze. Hopefully then, Malfoy would take the blame, even if there was likely to be too little evidence to have him expelled.
Harry scooped enough aconite to kill a hippogriff into the goblet, sealing it shut with a piece of paper and sticking charm, and wedging it firmly into his bag where it wouldn't slip out. Conjuring a replacement goblet, and pouring enough magic into the creation to keep it there for several weeks, he replaced the one he had stolen, and slipped out the door.
He nearly stepped into Snape's back.
Wincing, he closed the door as quietly as possible and edged around the wizard's figure until he could walk to the back of the class and wait for his attention to move on long enough for Harry to leave and head to the chamber.
It took longer than he would have liked, and he almost jumped when, having relaxed to watch the showers of sparks, Fleur's locket flared hot against his chest. Fortunately Snape eventually spied a nervous looking girl who was holding her wand loosely, and flinching away from the spark, and the Death Eater descended to berate her for her failings with ruthless contempt.
Harry slipped out, hurrying, still invisible, towards the Chamber of Secrets, hoping that Fleur was just missing him, and that the secret had not been lost.
It's incredibly unlikely, he reassured himself as he stole through the bathroom that had been Myrtle's. The Fidelius is almost flawless, and Gabrielle is safe and anonymous within the wards of Beauxbatons.
Abandoning the poison filled goblet, the bag, and his cloak he apparated within feet of entering the chamber itself, flicking his wand into his palm as the world swirled away behind him.
A pair of arms threw themselves around him the moment he stepped into the hall of the Meadow, but they were slim, soft, and pale, and the breath against the back of his neck smelt faintly of marzipan, and of the same sweet tang of burnt holly.
She's fine.
He sagged slightly in relief.
'Did you miss me?' Fleur murmured gently in his ear.
'You know I did,' he told her, twisting in her arms so he could kiss her.
'I have been tempted to call you back here overtime I found something,' she admitted, 'but I didn't want to selfishly interrupt anything more important.'
'There is nothing more important than you,' Harry promised her firmly, smiling when her arms tightened slightly around him. 'What have you found?'
'Not until you tell me what you've been up to,' Fleur smirked. 'Sirius comes round every now and again when he can, and while he is not terrible company, he is not you, and knows nothing about what you're really doing.'
'He only learns what Dumbledore tells him, and Dumbledore sees as little as I can manage.'
'Answer the question,' Fleur demanded, pouting.
'Nothing too dramatic has happened,' Harry smiled. 'I got permission to take my NEWTs early in three subjects, and I'm working on the fourth.'
'You only need three to be considered for most roles or jobs,' Fleur shrugged.
'I want four,' Harry said stoically, 'you have four.'
'Is that all?'
'No,' he conceded. 'Malfoy has been tasked with killing someone at Hogwarts, possibly Dumbledore, and Snape has sworn an Unbreakable Vow to do it himself if Malfoy fails.'
'You are planning on taking your revenge,' she realised, ever perceptive of his intentions.
'Yes,' Harry nodded. 'Dumbledore contracted a withering curse from Voldemort's final horcrux, Snape's potions are keeping him alive.'
'So killing Snape kills Dumbledore anyway, grants you your revenge, and removes a dangerous, obsessed wizard with too many masters.' Fleur frowned. 'Dumbledore will die even if Snape lives, and Snape has not yet proven himself our enemy, killing him may not be worth the risk.'
Harry took a step back out of her arms.
'He betrayed my parents, my mother, the witch he loved, to their deaths,' he reminded her coldly.
'He may not have done so knowingly,' Fleur said, pulling him back into her. 'How could he have known that it was your mother the prophecy he overheard spoke of?'
'He could not have done,' Harry admitted grudgingly.
'Would you not betray a stranger in the hope of saving me?' Fleur asked, already knowing the answer. 'Your parents were in hiding by then, perhaps he wanted to redirect Voldemort's attention from them, from your mother.'
'You think his intentions were pure,' Harry swallowed his anger, trying to think clearly. 'It is possible,' he sighed after a brief period of contemplation. Snape's emotions were genuine; the patronus proved that.
'Give him a chance to choose you,' Fleur urged softly. 'It's not so farfetched. He wants Voldemort dead, does not share Dumbledore's ideals, and may prove a useful ally.'
'I will offer him a chance,' Harry decided. 'If he chooses me, then I will ignore the consequences of his decision, because you asked me too. Otherwise,' his lips twitched, 'I have an aconite smeared goblet for him.'
'You are being careful, I trust?' Fleur asked, biting her lip.
'I have to avoid all suspicion,' Harry agreed, squeezing her gently, 'don't worry.'
'No drama, you said,' she laughed.
'That is not all,' Harry confessed, stomach twisting nervously. This was the part he was truly dreading. 'I think you might have been right.'
'When am I not?' Fleur teased. 'But about what?'
'Who,' he corrected, 'Katie.'
Fleur's jaw clenched. He was aware of every muscle stiffening and coiling against him, and the shifting shape of her face into his shoulder.
'What did she do?' Fleur asked quietly, her voice slightly distorted by her altered features.
'I had to go to a party with a date,' Harry began, speaking quickly. 'She fended off the other girls to save me from them, so I reluctantly took her, but she drank more than was wise, and got… clingy.'
'Just clingy?'
'I put her to bed,' Harry responded gently, 'nothing more.'
'What did she say?' Fleur sounded concerned, not truly worried, but certainly unhappy.
'She wanted to know if I was ok,' Harry remembered, 'asked if I was angry about seeing you and Bill together at the café that time.'
'Did she,' Fleur's voice distorted further. 'After she deliberately put you next to then in the hope something would happen that would let her steal you away from me.'
'Katie wouldn't do that.' Harry shook his head, but he wasn't quite as adamant about that as he might have been. She was much less scrupulous than she used to be.
'She would for you,' Fleur pulled her face out of his shoulder. 'Was she happy, while you were there?'
'I haven't seen her so happy in a long time,' Harry said, after resigned pause.
'You believe me now, don't you?'
'I don't want to,' he sighed, but he knew now that she was right. Denying it was pointless.
'Will there be more parties?' Fleur asked softly.
'I need to stay on Slughorn's good side to get him to give me permission to take my NEWT early,' Harry answered gently, 'but I'm sure I can take someone else, or go alone.'
'No,' Fleur decided, suddenly firm. 'Take Katie.'
'Why?' He asked, extremely wary over the sudden reversal.
'Are you going to choose her over me?' Fleur asked, looking him in the eye as her features faded back to their normal appearance.
'Never,' Harry promised.
'Then let her have her consolation prize,' Fleur told him, surprisingly kindly. 'I can't fault her taste, and while I might not like it, she has been a good friend to you, and deserves better.' Her voice faded to little more than a faint whisper. 'I stole you from her, after all.'
'I never blamed you for that,' Harry reminded her. 'I did not even notice your allure, and Katie knew that. She shouldn't have retaliated for something that was not my fault, and she certainly shouldn't have trusted Roger Davies to be well-motivated.'
'I still feel guilty,' Fleur admitted. She was no longer looking him in the eye, her face buried back in the crook of his neck, and her arms tightly wrapped about him as if she was afraid he might disappear.
'You shouldn't.'
'I am a better match for you, more your equal,' Fleur laughed a little at her own pride, 'but she is a perfect fit for you. If you had never met me, you would be just as happy with her.'
'I would be happy,' Harry supposed, 'but not as happy.' He tilted her face up to look at him, and kissed her cheeks gently until she smiled, and the threat of tears faded. 'I'll take Katie, if you think I should, but she will never be anything more than a friend to me, and I'm sure she knows that really. Besides,' he grinned, 'platonic dates never lead to good relationships.'
'I hope she knows,' Fleur replied softly, stifling a small smile at his reference to their Yule Ball.
'What have you found?' Harry asked, changing the subject. 'You said you wanted to call me here every time you found something, so you must have.'
Fleur nodded, running a fingertip under each eye with a rueful smile, and leading him by the hand up to the room that had been his study, and was now clearly Fleur's.
'I found Travers, and even if the last horcrux is gone, he might know something useful,' she smiled proudly. 'He's been seen in the midlands, or someone wearing the same mask as he was caught in has been.'
'It is likely that it is Travers, and even if it is not, then a distinguishable mask means Inner Circle, and tearing Voldemort's most useful followers from him should be our first step in defeating him.'
'Exactly,' Fleur smirked. 'Travers leads raids on the scatter of villages around there, picking off those who outspokenly oppose Voldemort and,' her expression darkened, 'indulging his own appetites in doing so.'
'So we wait for a raid and grab him?' Harry frowned. It seemed unlikely that a raid would occur at a convenient moment.
'I wait for a raid,' Fleur corrected. 'When his guard is down I stun him, and use this,' she produced a Death Eater mask from under a pile of papers, 'it's an exact replica of his.'
'What does it do?'
'I will cast the protean charm on his mask and this one before I memory charm him, so that when I change the design here,' she flipped the mask to reveal an almost invisible set of scratches, 'it will change on his mask too.'
Harry didn't need to ask her if she was sure her memory charm was good enough. It was the sort of subtle piece of magic that she would be good at.
'It's like the enchantment on your box,' Harry deduced after a moment of contemplation.
Fleur pouted, initiating her little sister. 'You stole my moment,' she complained. 'It will become a portkey,' she smirked, 'and he will find himself in a nice, empty spot in the Lake District, where we will be waiting.'
'If he isn't wearing the mask we'll just have that very unattractive piece of fancy dress,' Harry warned. It was the only flaw he could see in the plan.
'Portkeys only activate when they are touched,' Fleur reminded him, and Harry flushed slightly at forgetting something so obvious. 'He might be touching something when we kidnap him, though' she finished thoughtfully.
'You've thought of everything,' Harry grinned. Her plans were much more thorough than his.
'As long as he does not have his lips pressed to the hem of Voldemort's robes we will have no trouble dealing with him, or anyone he might bring with him by accident.' Fleur's confidence was catching, and Harry found himself nodding. He was more than a match for most Inner Circle members, and together with Fleur, catching them by surprise, they should have little trouble.
'Be careful when you're waiting for Travers,' he pleaded gently.
'I am more than capable of looking after myself,' Fleur told him gently. 'However I shall be very careful, nothing must be suspected before we activate this.'
'Hopefully we can wring the locations of most of his fellow Inner Circle members from him,' Harry mused. 'Eradicating most of them will deal Voldemort a serious blow.'
'This is not the most interesting thing I have found,' Fleur smirked. 'I have been continuing your search as well.' She seemed quite excited all of a sudden, and Harry had to force down the upwelling hope that surged dangerously within him.
It is unlikely that she has found it so soon, he reminded himself.
'I've been trawling through legends, since the Peverell family tree links off to several notable families, amongst which is yours, Slytherin's, and a handful of others, though they are all now extinct.' Fleur traced the new additions on his wall of ancestry with her forefinger. 'There is virtually no mention of the cloak, as the last Peverell, who must have taken it with her, brought it into the Potter line many generations ago, and it has never left the family line. The Resurrection Stone,' her face turned apologetic, 'is almost as scarcely mentioned, there is a reference to it being sought after by many wizards, your ancestor, Salazar, among them, but none of them found it.'
'So maybe it too remained in the family,' Harry suggested.
'If it did, then you would already own it,' Fleur disagreed. 'It must have been, stolen, lost, or given away to another.'
'That's not encouraging,' Harry grimaced.
'It was never going to be easy,' Fleur warned kindly.
'I know.' He did not expect to find it for many years, but he did expect to discover it eventually.
'The Elder Wand, however, is much easier to trace,' Fleur passed him a list of owners, 'it has changed hands a hundred times in the last few centuries alone, though most recently the only reference I could find was the claims of a wand maker. Gregorovitch,' she clarified.
'I am not interested in the wand,' Harry shrugged. It did not give him anything he desired, he had a wand, and, from the look of it, the Elder Wand simply made him a bigger target.
'The wand has to be taken from its last master,' Fleur told him. 'I do not know if the other hallows require the same thing, but-'
'It might be best not to risk it,' Harry finished. 'I understand. What does taken entail?'
'The Elder Wand has been claimed by theft, murder, duelling, and disarming, that I know of. Any method of taking it without the consent of the owner seems to work.'
'So I should make sure to take the stone,' Harry decided. 'I would probably have to anyway, nobody in their right mind would willingly give it up.'
'I did find one other thing, though it seems unrelated, as their is no evidence he ever found, or owned, any of the hallows.' Fleur tapped the drawing of the symbol Harry had glimpsed on the graves in Godric's Hollow, on the archway, and on the inside of his cloak. 'Grindelwald adopted this as his symbol,' Fleur informed him, 'it is infamous across Europe because of it. I did not realise it was the Peverell coat of arms beforehand.'
'He never found any of them?' Harry inquired. Grindelwald was not somebody he wanted to have to need to talk to if he could avoid it. The old warlord was imprisoned in Nurmengard, his own prison, and it was practically impregnable.
'I think we would have known if he had,' Fleur smiled. 'I cannot see him having any use for any of the hallows, even the Elder Wand makes little difference when you are already so powerful.'
'Perhaps he just liked the symbol,' Harry grinned.
'It is simple, and elegant,' Fleur agreed. 'For an irredeemable, mass-murdering, dark lord, he had a good taste in emblems.'
'I should be heading back,' Harry realised, noticing the darkening sky outside over the village.
'Not yet you aren't.' Fleur's smile turned sultry, eyes smouldering, and she caught his wrist before he could apparate. 'If I cannot see you as often as I would like, then I should make the most of when I can.'
'I can probably linger a little longer,' Harry grinned, immediately changing his mind.
Fleur's dress was sliding to the floor before he could apparate them to their bedroom, her lips hungry against his. There was soft snap as he shifted them to the bed, collapsing underneath Fleur onto the mattress.
'You're still wearing too much, Harry,' she decided coyly from atop his waist, covered by nothing but her hair. His robes smouldered to nothing under her fingers before he could tear his eyes away from her to reply.
Summer sky blue eyes burnt bright with passion behind a silver veil. Fleur had definitely missed him.
AN: Please read and review, thanks to everyone who does!
