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"Potter!"

Harry looked up from his locker to see his coach, Finbar Quigley, glaring at him from across the room.

"Get your head out of your arse out there! You've been coasting for months but the playoffs aren't far. If things hold, we'll be getting the Bats right out of the gate. Their seeker isn't you, but she's damn good. Don't embarrass us because you're dreaming of the World Cup."

Harry sighed and looked back down, stripping off his practice jersey and dropping it to the floor. His shoulder ached and protested, causing him to hiss in pain.

"Ew, that's gonna leave a bruise," came the voice next to him. Looking up he saw Angelina staring down at him, a cocky smile on her face.

"I just need to grab some salve from Colin," he said as he removed his shin guards.

"Which you won't do," Luc said as he stood up, grabbing something from the top of his locker next to Harry's. "You're too bloody stubborn to go see the doctor."

"Are you even allowed to say the word bloody?" quipped Katie from across the room, tossing a roll of finger tape at Luc, hitting him in the back. "I thought you French were supposed to be more dignified than that?"

"Oi, leave him alone," a booming voice called from the end of the row. Oliver looked at them with a hard gaze before smiling. "Luc's just gone native, that's all."

"Hey, this was supposed to be about making fun of Harry. How'd this turn on me?" questioned Luc. Angelina bent down and pinched Luc's cheek before he swatted her hand.

"Aw, is our resident Triwizard Champion upset by a little bit of teasing?"

Everyone laughed as Luc shook his head before flicking his wand to send his dirty jersey down the hall to clean itself. It was somewhat of a running joke amongst the team, Luc's entry into the then newly-reinstated Triwizard Tournament during Harry's fourth year at Hogwarts. Luc had been the top Quidditch prospect in France at the time, but being in his last year at Beauxbatons meant he was eligible to compete.

His massive ego wouldn't allow him to stay back in France to let someone else take "eternal glory."

Harry scratched his cheek, feeling the stubble starting to come through, and wondered what would have happened if Fleur had gone to Hogwarts that year with the rest of the delegation. After his conversation with Fleur a couple months ago he'd been curious and asked one of his oldest friends. He'd confirmed to Harry that, no, Fleur hadn't joined them, though nobody had known why.

Would he and Fleur have met then? Would he and Luc have formed the kinship they had? Luc had dubbed him "the craziest man on a broom" by the time he'd left for the year, having seen Harry perform all sorts of, looking back now, incredibly stupid feats in the air each time they'd flown together.

It was the entire reason Luc was here, in England, playing in the English league. Would that still have happened if Fleur had come to Hogwarts?

"Earth to Potter," he heard, breaking his concentration as Katie waved her hand in front of his face.

"I'm sorry, what?" he managed, shaking his head and removing the last of his guards.

"I said, are you going to get your shoulder looked at?"

He looked down and could see it starting to discolour. Iit was beginning to hurt more, but he shook his head all the same. He had salve at home, and Colin would just ask him a thousand questions.

"No, I'm alright. I'll get to it when I get home."

Angelina shot him a look as she began to wave her wand over her hair, removing the moisture and curling it at the end. She and Katie were already completely out of their gear and in their street clothes, he noticed. He must have been sitting at his locker longer than he realized.

"What happened out there?" she asked, and Harry could see concern on her face. Looking back at Katie, he saw the same. Even Oliver, their usually unshakable Captain, seemed to have a softer look in his eyes than normal. The four of them had formed a close bond at Hogwarts, something that had been forged on the pitch and wasn't easily broken by trivial matters such as graduations.

That they all ended up here, on the same professional team, was no coincidence.

"I was just distracted," he admitted, looking down as he grabbed his wand to begin cleaning up.

"You ran shoulder-first into the stands," Oliver pointed out with a raised eyebrow. "That's a little more than distracted."

"I didn't want Hedwig to crash into them and I couldn't stop in time, so the only option was to let my shoulder take the brunt of the impact. It'll be fine once I get the salve on it, and I'll have my head clear by the time we play the Harpies next week."

Luc chuckled lightly next to him. Harry glanced over and saw the taller man waving his wand over his hair, sending it back to his trademark, Witch Weekly look.

"Daydreaming about French birds," he said with a wink as Harry finally got his street clothes on.

"It's not like that."

"Isn't it?" Luc stepped back from the small mirror in his locker and turned towards Harry. "You've gone back and forth to France damn near more times than I have since I switched leagues. And I actually like my family!"

Harry raised his chin in indignation.

"I said it's not like that."

"Oh? Then explain it to us."

"Fleur's the best broomsmith I know. You've all seen how Hedwig has performed since I started taking her there. Hell, we haven't lost a game since the first time I went there."

"Eh, that's more on your awesome Chasers," Katie chuckled.

"And your amazing Keeper," added Oliver.

Harry sighed and looked up. He wouldn't bother trying to fix his hair, there was nothing he could do about the way it looked. He flicked his wand and sent his dirty training clothes away before turning back towards his team.

"Have I failed to catch the snitch recently?"

"Well, no," admitted Angelina, "but Oliver makes you do a double practice anytime you do, so that argument's really not working in your favor."

"You're welcome," Oliver said with a smile as he took a sip of water. Briefly, Harry wondered why Oliver, Mr. "Hydration After Games and Practices Is Important" himself wasn't chastising them for their lack of water.

Angelina narrowed her eyes.

"Honestly Specs, I'm surprised you're even still here. Figured you'd have gotten out of here as quickly as possible to get your broom polished by that French babe."

Oliver choked on his drink from across the room and Katie laughed as she walked over to him, slapping him on the back several times. Harry sighed and gave Angelina the most unamused glare he could manage. She simply smiled.

"First of all, she literally makes brooms for a living…Luc, stop making those eyes or I will smack you," Harry said, turning around as Luc continued to move his eyebrows up and down. "Second of all…"

Harry sighed and Angelina laughed loudly, pulling him into a brief, light hug, careful of his shoulder, before stepping back.

"Second of all you were planning on ditching us to go see her, you just hadn't gotten around to telling us?"

Everyone looked at him expectantly and he closed his eyes. They wouldn't let him leave until he said it, and they would torture him with the knowledge for days after. It was just how their little dysfunctional family worked.

"Yes," he muttered, earning catcalls from Luc and Katie, while Oliver simply shook his head and laughed quietly. He wouldn't live this down for a while.

"It's not like that," he insisted, though he knew they didn't believe him. "I need to get Hedwig looked at after my crash. She seems fine but I need to make sure."

"Why don't you just invite her to join us?" Katie asked.

Luc laughed.

"The Fleur Delacour I knew wouldn't do pints. She'd only drink wine, like a civilized human being."

"So you're saying you're not civilized?" Oliver wondered.

"Absolutely not," Luc confirmed with an overly dramatic sigh. "Going out with the likes of you to a British pub so often? There's something incredibly wrong with me. It's a good thing that I'm so very handsome, otherwise people would talk."

"I have invited her," Harry interrupted, rolling his eyes at Luc's antics. "Multiple times, but she's not interested. I don't think a pub is really her scene."

Katie shrugged and walked over to the door.

"Whatever. Perhaps you should try inviting her to a game instead of just drinks with the boys." Katie turned towards the rest of the team. "You lot ready to get pissed? No practice for two days so we can cut loose!"

The team made their way out of the locker room, giving Harry their goodbyes as they went.

"I'm supposed to help Fred and George at the shop tomorrow so I can't drink too much," Angelina said as they all disappeared around the corner, leaving Harry alone.

He rubbed his shoulder gently before sighing again and grabbing Hedwig. He had a portkey to catch.

He was just nearing the apparition point when he heard the call.

"Hello, Harry."

He nearly growled, looking around to see if any of his teammates were still milling about. Seeing none he sighed and turned around.

"Lavender." His voice was neutral and he let his face fall into a familiar mask. The one he wore around people he didn't want to speak with. The one he wore when he spoke with the press.

"Aw, is that any way to talk to an old friend?" Lavender asked, stepping closer, a wide smile on her face. Harry rolled his eyes.

"You're trespassing, Ms. Brown. The practice facility is closed to the press," he reminded her.

She gave him a mocking pout.

"C'mon, Harry, I'm just trying to do my job. Get the facts straight. Help an old classmate out?"

He turned back around. Better to not engage, that would only cause her to write something with a spin. Or worse, mention this conversation to Rita Skeeter and something completely different and mostly false be printed.

"Where are you going, Harry?"

He stopped, though he knew he should just apparate and leave her there, but he didn't. Oliver would have cursed him if he were there.

"Reports say you're not hanging out with the rest of the team as much anymore," she continued, taking the fact that he was still present to press on. "That you're disappearing and heading somewhere secret. Care to comment? Trouble with the team? Or more likely, a new lover for one of the Quidditch world's most eligible bachelors?"

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. It was something Angelina had taught him when he entered the league. Sometimes it was best to take a breath before responding. First instincts weren't always correct when dealing with people who write the next headline, so it was best to gather your thoughts before letting your mouth get ahead of your brain.

"You hid from my teammates to ensure they didn't see you so you could ambush me," he pointed out, looking over his shoulder at her with a smirk. "I'll be reporting you to ownership and requesting a formal complaint be filed with the Daily Prophet. The press knows my policy on interviews and it hasn't changed. Please remove yourself from the premises. Good day, Ms. Brown."

He popped over to his flat, nothing fancy, just a small one bedroom in Muggle London, sighing as he appeared in the entryway. Hopefully his encounter with Lavender wouldn't leave enough there for a story, though he doubted he would ever be that lucky.

He walked to the counter and picked up a small dark blue rubber ball. He squeezed it in his hand before settling it between his thumb and index finger, tapping it once with his wand. In an instant he felt the pull and he was gone, landing in the empty field that had been programmed as his destination for months.

Taking a quick look around he saw no one. He never did, this spot being closer to the magical community than the muggle one of the area, but it never hurt to check. Satisfied, he set off down the hill to make the short journey to Fleur's familiar shop, rubbing his shoulder slightly. He probably should have grabbed the salve when he got home, but he wasn't quite sure when Fleur left for the day.

As he made it to the front of the shop he smiled as he saw Fleur, trademark faded overalls and messy bun exiting the shop, a look of deep concentration on her face as she flicked her wand to lock the door. He closed the distance and she stopped at the top of the steps when she saw him, jumping slightly at his appearance.

"Oh, 'Arry," she said, "I didn't expect you'd be coming by until next week. I was just about to do some shopping."

He smiled and held out Hedwig.

"I didn't either, but I was hoping you could look at her?"

Fleur made it down the steps of the shop and stopped in front of him, looking over the broom in his hands with a keen eye.

"She didn't get hit, but I wanted to make sure she was okay. I can come back later though, if you've got plans."

She grabbed the broom from him and looked up when he made a noise. Her eyes pierced through him and narrowed. He smiled, attempting to downplay the pain in his shoulder but her eyes moved instantly to the discolouration peaking through his partially unbuttoned shirt. She raised her hand and moved his shirt to the side, exposing half of the mark. He looked down and could see its colour was changing fast.

She let her hand drop and looked at him again.

"Come inside." She jerked her head towards the door. "I will look at you. Both of you."

Fleur unlocked the door and held it open for him, letting him enter before closing it behind them and following after. She stepped around him to get to the back, going past the far counter and into the area where he presumed she did most of her crafting.

She returned, pointing at the stool and he sat, his shoulder only protesting a small amount. She placed Hedwig on the bench but moved around to stand in front of him, a disapproving look on her face.

"What did you do?"

He tried to shrug but winced at the motion.

"Decided to get familiar with the stands."

She raised an eyebrow.

"And what made that seem like a good idea?"

Harry sighed.

"I was distracted. At least I knew to take the brunt of it instead of the broom."

"Oui. It's good that you 'ave learned. Now show me."

He unbuttoned his muggle polo and moved it aside, fully exposing the now rapidly changing bruise to her. She took out her wand and muttered a spell before running her wand along the offending mark. It was cold to the touch and he shuddered briefly as the unexpected feeling.

She removed her wand and turned around to head into the back.

"I didn't know you were a healer too," he called to her. He heard the sound of a cabinet opening, its squeaky hinges sounding quickly before it was shut again. She returned with a small vial in her hands.

"It 'elps to know the basics of 'ealing when working with sharp objects. It was one of the first things my father taught me when I became 'is apprentice." She stopped in front of him and looked him up and down. "Take off your shirt."

Harry complied without protest, understanding that she didn't want to get any of the familiar purple salve onto his clothing. As he tugged the shirt over his head he looked down to see her blushing as she stared at his body. He looked down at himself and smirked.

Being a Seeker meant he didn't need to be incredibly muscular, his position relied more on speed and agility. The ability to outmaneuver the opposing Seeker was more important than being able to beat them physically. Still, he maintained a workout routine like the rest of the team, which had resulted in him staying in shape. Not the perfect specimen, but he knew what he looked like.

"Like what you see?" he teased.

She jumped, and for a brief moment embarrassment set in as she looked away. She recovered quickly, however, and she soon slapped a portion of the salve onto his shoulder with extra force.

"Ow!" he complained. She smiled at him, the blush fading.

"You're not that impressive."

The cold salve quickly warmed as she worked it over the entire bruise, her surprisingly rough hands making a good counterpoint to the silkiness of the salve. She removed her hand, waving her wand over it to vanish the remainder from her palm before slipping the vial back into her overalls.

"Sit and let the salve work," she commanded, her tone leaving no room for debate. "I will check 'Edwig while you wait."

Normally he'd protest. Tell Angelina or whoever that he didn't need to be babied, that he could take care of himself, but he held his tongue. She'd already returned to the other side of the bench and was inspecting Hedwig, looking over every inch of her surface for damage. He sighed a contented sigh, letting the familiar scent of oil and birch overtake him.

Perhaps he didn't protest because it all felt comfortable, he wasn't sure. He'd been so tense the last several months, with grueling games and even worse press conferences, not to mention the team events, and yet here, in his little hideaway in southern France, he felt at ease.

The last of the tension in his shoulders faded, leaving nothing but the tingling of the salve behind as he watched Fleur tend to Hedwig with a compassionate look in her eyes. She began to hum, absentmindedly as if she had forgotten he was there, and he felt his eyes begin to fall. His head drooped down towards his good shoulder as the notes filled the small space.

Sleep called to him and his eyes opened one last time. In that moment between sleep and consciousness, his vision slowly fading out, he swore he saw an angel standing over Hedwig.

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Fleur inhaled deeply, smelling the fresh muffins that she'd just finished, allowing a small smile to spread across her face as she grabbed the icing. Gabby had finally settled into her new place in Paris, just two streets from the Ministry building, so Fleur had taken it upon herself to pop over and make her a homemade welcoming gift. Her mother would scoff at her current state, flour on her cheek and hair halfway out of her bun, but there was something special about handmade dessert that she had never been able to replicate with magic.

She opened the icing and picked up the knife, carefully pulling a bit of it onto the utensil before she began spreading it across the top of the first muffin. It was just another thing she'd picked up from her father. Doing things by hand. Especially when there was no work or when the work was frustrating and she was struggling. Finding something else to do with her hands, to keep her mind sharp and focused, had been key to a successful apprenticeship.

For her father, idle hands meant making little wooden figures from the leftovers of a broom. For Fleur, it meant baking.

With a low crack Gabby appeared in the entryway, kicking off her shoes with a huff and hanging her coat near the door. She stopped as she entered the kitchen and realized she wasn't alone.

"Fleur," she said with surprise, "I didn't expect you'd get here until later."

Fleur shrugged as she picked up another muffin and began spreading the icing onto its cool top.

"I had time and figured you might like a real welcoming gift, so I came over. You keyed me into the wards so I took that as an invitation to let myself in."

Gabby gave her sister a half hug before looking down at the treats, getting her hand swatted as she tried to reach for one. Fleur glared at her.

"You just wanted an excuse to use my fancy magical oven," Gabby teased, leaning against the counter with a smile. She looked around the kitchen, used bowls and mixing utensils spread around in various states of cleanliness. "Still doing your baking by hand I see. We've got magic."

Fleur bumped her hip into Gabby's.

"Someone's about to talk their way out of these muffins."

"What I meant to say," Gabby said quickly, "was I'm glad you're still baking by hand because it's delicious and can I please, please, please have a muffin now? They smell amazing and I'm about to pop."

Fleur laughed and nodded, handing her sister one who quickly took a bite. Her face relaxed as a low sigh of contentment escaped her lips. Fleur smiled as Gabby quickly took another bite and she reached up, rubbing her thumb along her chin where she'd gotten icing. No quicker way to make Gabrielle Delacour lose her composure than homemade desserts.

"Merlin, Fleur, these are delicious," Gabby said, though it came out muffled as her mouth was full.

"Chew your food before speaking," Fleur chastised, frowning at her sister before grabbing her own muffin.

She took a bite and nodded. They were good. She'd put a bit too much icing on them, but her sister had more of a sweet tooth than she did, so that wouldn't be noticeable to the person who they were made for. The buttermilk and vanilla extract were blended perfectly and weren't overpowering. She'd made that mistake the last time she'd attempted these.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Gabby muttered, grabbing another muffin before heading back towards the door, reaching into her coat pocket to pull out a paper. "I came across something you might be interested in."

She stepped back into the kitchen and dropped the paper in front of Fleur. It unrolled to reveal it was a copy of the Daily Prophet from England, not one that was seen too often in France. Fleur's eyes opened a bit wider as she stared down at the moving photo of Harry, his wide smile and charming wink as he posed for the press staring back up at her. It was the title that truely caught her eye, however.

Harry Potter: Trouble in Paradise?

By: Lavender Brown

What has happened to Harry Potter?

That was the question this report asked herself recently as she set out to discover the truth. Harry Potter, star Seeker for Puddlemere United and heartthrob of the Quidditch world, has had a long-standing close relationship with most of his team. As a young, impressionable youth fresh into Hogwarts he learned the game from half of his current team as they tore up the inter-house competition for his entire stay in the hallowed halls.

As a first-hand witness to their dominance, let me tell you dear readers, those four were unstoppable and clearly destined to remain playing together long after leaving their education behind.

Throw in Luc Bennet, a transplant from France, friends with our hometown hero since they were teenagers, and you've got one of the elite professional teams in the world.

So where has Harry Potter been sneaking off to?

This reporter interviewed several sources, all who wished to remain anonymous, and each had the same story. That Harry Potter was no longer being seen with his friends at their usual places. That everyone except our beloved Seeker was present at their usual after-practice pub rounds.

The man himself declined to comment.

Nymphadora Tonks, Harry Potter's agent, had this to say when reached for comment:

"My client remains committed to Puddlemere United, just as he has for years. Print lies and see where that gets you, Brown. Remember the last time?"

Could there be trouble in paradise? Could he be looking for a new team? Or perhaps, as this reporter believes, one of the Quidditch world's most eligible bachelors has found romance? One that he wishes to remain a secret. Who is this mystery that has captured the heart of the reigning Seeker of the Year? This reporter intends to find out and you, our dear readers, will be the first to know.

"So," Gabby drawled, voice laced with sarcasm, "Who is the mystery that's captured his heart? Perhaps a certain French bombshell with a talent for working with wood?"

"Gabby…" Fleur warned, her tone dangerous, though that simply caused her sister to begin laughing.

"Oh, come on sis, would it really be so bad if you two were dating?"

Fleur grabbed another muffin and took a bite, giving herself a moment to think. No, it wouldn't be so bad, but dating came with challenges for her. Challenges that her sister hadn't had to deal with.

"No, it wouldn't," she admitted after swallowing her bite, "but that still doesn't mean I want to date anyone. Though I will admit, he does look good without a shirt."

Gabby's eyes widened.

"How do you-"

"Anyway, got to go sister!" Fleur interrupted, a light blush forming on her face as she realized what she'd said. She pulled Gabby into a hug before stepping out of the kitchen. "Enjoy the muffins. Don't eat them all by yourself!"

With that she popped away, leaving a dumbstruck Gabby staring at the space her sister had been.

"She's seen him with his shirt off?"

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Fleur appeared in the field not far from the shop and sighed. She loved her sister dearly, and she'd do anything for her, but the younger woman was relentless in her teasing. She knew all the right buttons to press, and letting slip that she'd seen Harry without a shirt would have been nothing short of tourture, though she knew a lengthy interrogation would happen soon.

She shivered, realizing that she'd left her coat at Gabby's in her rush to make a hasty exit. She pulled her wand out of her overalls and cast a quick warming charm. That would do until she got back to the shop and could get a proper fire going.

The sun was setting and she looked over at the hillside, the sprawling landscape making for a beautiful walk. She'd always loved this area, even as a child. It was remote enough to be away from the business of the major magical centers, but close enough to a small community not to feel like she was cut off from the world.

Or perhaps that's what she actually wanted, she wondered idly. It had always been easier, staying away from people, so maybe the remote location of the shop was key to that. As her small spot in the world came into view she saw someone sitting out front, arms wrapped around themselves as they stared out into the countryside. She smiled as she got closer, his messy raven coloured hair being difficult to miss.

"Just 'ow long have you been out 'ere?" she asked, startling him from his concentration. He smiled as he looked up at her.

"Not long," he replied, but there was something in his voice that made her know he was lying. She sat down next to him and looked up.

"You're a very poor liar, 'Arry Potter."

He laughed, his black curls shaking as he did.

"Fair enough. I've been out here a while, truth be told, but it's nice. The sunset is amazing."

She nodded, looking out at the field.

"Oui, it is. It's especially beautiful in the fall. I'll come out and watch the sunset most days. It's calming, in a way." She looked back at him. "You do not have a broom with you."

"I do not," he confirmed with a smile, "but I do have these."

He extracted one of his hands from his coat and held it in front of her. Two tickets were pressed between his thumb and index finger.

"Two tickets to our game next Friday," he said, "I'd like for you to come."

She took the tickets, looking at them, eyes widening as she saw they were for the team box. Her father had taken her to a few Quidditch matches in her life, but always a normal seat, usually high up. Never such a fancy opportunity.

"I don't know what to say," she admitted.

"Say you'll go? I figured you could bring your dad. Does he like Quidditch?" Harry raised an eyebrow and she couldn't help but smile at his face, as if he suddenly realized he hadn't thought it all through.

"Oui, he likes Quidditch." She laughed. "I don't think he'd have kept the family business going if he wasn't a fan of the game."

"Great!" he replied with a relieved smile, "then I'm sure he'd have a great time. We're playing a good team, so it should be a good match. If you're interested…"

"I think that sounds lovely," she said with a warm smile. His own smile widened at her words and he jumped up excitedly.

"Fantastic!" He pulled out a small decorative snitch and handed it to her. "That'll activate about a half hour before the game next Friday. It'll be in the evening, at 1700. It'll take you directly into the stadium and the stairs to the box will be right in front of you. Nobody will bother you, I promise."

He motioned behind himself with his thumb.

"I've got to get to a team event, but I'll see you next Friday?"

She nodded.

"Oui, I would 'ope so."

He smiled again, and Fleur felt the air around her shift, as if it was caught up in his excitement.

"Awesome. You'll have a great time, I promise."