Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Chapter 20 - Wings of Steel and Thunder

Harry lay in bed in the late hours of the night, drowsily reading a Charms textbook. The words seemed to float off the page, and he was drifting between sleep and alertness. He'd still not entirely gotten over the after-effects of the third task.

A dull thud at the front door caught his attention and he shot upright.

As he reached for his wand, he panicked. It was no longer there. Of course, for he'd lost it in the graveyard, and Dumbledore had agreed for him to visit Ollivanders once the blood protection of his relatives had been 'sufficiently recharged for another year,' as the Headmaster had put it. He now regretted going along with it. Fleur had been far more vocal than he but had eventually caved in too.

It might be the death of him.

Just as the panic was beginning to mount, a soft crack saw his godfather appear at the foot of his bed. He dusted himself off and took in Harry's state of alarm, chuckling.

"Sorry if I scared you, Harry," he said, grinning as he rubbed his forehead. "In my haste, I apparated directly into the front door."

All Harry could do was stare at him stupidly, adrenaline still surging through his body. He listened closely, hoping his relatives hadn't heard. His worries faded as Sirius cast a silencing charm on the room.

"I hate not having a wand," he mumbled as he recovered, standing to pick his textbook up from where he'd dropped it beside the bed.

Sirius pulled out a chair from his small desk across from Harry. He sat down heavily, and the chair creaked ominously.

"Yeah, that does suck," he agreed, shifting his weight. "At least you're safe within the wards here. Dumbledore thinks it would be a risk for you to go somewhere other than Hogwarts or here without the blood protection adequately replenished. I won't pretend to understand blood wards myself."

Whilst Harry wished that there was an alternative, he knew it was unlikely that he would be able to leave within the week.

"This is ridiculous. How do we even know that they work? Voldemort used my blood."

His godfather's eyes widened for a moment.

"I'd forgotten about that. Dumbledore was very brief when he explained it to me," he said. "He assured me that you would be safe within the wards though. I'll make sure to check with him."

"I've not been very safe at Hogwarts though, have I?" Harry asked with an eyebrow raised.

"No," Sirius admitted, exhaling. "I do agree, this is rubbish. Look, I'll see what I can do. In the meantime, you should take this."

He fished around in a robe pocket for a moment before pulling out a long, dark wand. It was thinner than his old one by a fair margin.

"Don't tell anyone about this. If word gets out, I'm in the shit," Sirius muttered. "Keep it on you at all times and only use it in an emergency."

As Harry grasped it, he felt a slight surge of magic. It was a feeling he'd missed ever since the night of the final task, even if it was significantly muted compared to the phoenix and holly wand.

"Blackthorn and dragon heartstring," Sirius added. "Quite a standard Auror wand, I hope it will be fine for you."

He nodded hesitantly in response, sceptical of whether it would perform if required.

"So," Sirius began, steepling his fingers, "a Horcrux is a-"

"I know what a Horcrux is," he interrupted quietly.

Sirius gave him a blank look, surprisingly devoid of shock.

"Right, and just how do you happen to know that?"

Harry pointed to his scar.

"I had one right here."

This time Sirius was left speechless. He stared at Harry as if he was waiting for the punchline.

"You're serious? Had? Do you mean it's gone now?"

Harry was unsure where to begin, but slowly the whole story poured out, starting with the Quidditch World Cup. Throughout it, Sirius sat stunned. He breathed out heavily once Harry had finished recounting the events since to him, and then grabbed him in a tight hug.

Pulling back, he rested his hands on Harry's shoulders.

"I'm impressed that Appoline managed to come to that conclusion. I have no other explanation myself. Let's not have a repeat of that, shall we?"

"I'll do my best," Harry answered.

Sirius nodded to himself, sitting back down on the chair.

"To be brief, Dumbledore believes that Voldemort made several Horcruxes. Seven, to be exact. We know this as Dumbledore has already found multiple, which means Voldemort has made more than three."

"Three?" Harry asked. "Why seven, and not three?"

"They are both magically powerful numbers," Sirius explained. "Dumbledore has so far found a ring, and more recently a diadem that was within Hogwarts itself. I stumbled upon another at Grimmauld Place - unsurprisingly that place is still riddled with dark magic, but it's mostly safe now. I got the full story out of Kreacher and it seems my late brother was involved. The diary from your second year was one as well…"

He drifted off, and Harry looked at him concernedly.

"Sirius?" he prompted.

"I still can't believe that you killed a Basilisk. What the hell is going on in that school?"

The question seemed more directed at himself rather than Harry, but he answered anyway.

"Couldn't tell you."

His godfather slowly stroked the stubble on his chin, seemingly in thought.

"We could try and get you out of there, but we would need permission from your relatives. As far as I'm concerned, Dumbledore's got them in his pocket," he murmured. "I'll see what I can do, Harry, but I can only do so much. I've been in contact with Sebastien - we had some ideas of our own whilst you were still out, but I can't promise anything at the moment."

"As long as you're trying to do something, it means a lot to me. Thank you."

Sirius' eyes looked a bit watery at that, and the man quickly enveloped him in another firm hug.

"No worries, kiddo," he replied gruffly. "I'll do my best. I've got half a mind to get you out of here right now, but whilst we have a shot at doing this properly, I might as well not act so rashly. Trust me, it's looking good."

Harry nodded his agreement.

"I should be fine here."

"Before I go, however…" he trailed off, eyeing the door.

Sirius stood, drawing his wand and unlocking the door with it. He eyed the locks distastefully, before glancing down to the cat flap. After some muttered words and motions of his wand, he turned back to Harry with an evil grin.

"I'd love to see the results, but unfortunately I can't stick around."

"What did you do?" Harry asked, eyes searching the open door.

"Your lovely relatives will get quite the shock if they try anything, and the less you know about the cat flap, the better."

Of course, this was the man who'd helped to create the Marauder's Map, which currently sat at the bottom of Harry's trunk.

Harry let a grin of his own stretch across his face as his mind slowly concocted all sorts of different scenarios.

"Thanks."

"My pleasure. I'll be back when I can," Sirius added. "Stay safe."

"I will," Harry answered, remembering Fleur's words.

And with that, his godfather shot him a final glance, before turning on the spot and disappearing with a quiet pop.

Harry wondered just how long the silencing spell on his cramped bedroom would last, his eyes wandering to a small, faded Gryffindor flag he'd kept above his bed since his first year at Hogwarts. Quidditch would be the last of his worries at present.

As he went to close his bedroom door, curiosity got the better of him, and he touched his hand to one of the locks. Nothing happened, however.

Maybe he could goad Dudley into messing with them.

No, that would be cruel, he thought amusedly.

Harry walked the short distance back to his bed and allowed himself to fall back onto it. He glanced at his desk, where multiple pieces of parchment were haphazardly spread across it.

Hedwig had already left with two letters for Hermione and Ginny. It still didn't strike him as a great idea to write to Ron, however.

His thoughts drifted back to Fleur as he lay on the bed, the exhaustion from earlier returning.

The next day saw him returning to his usual activities in the Dursley household. Whilst preparing breakfast, Harry heard a yelp from upstairs, before someone shouted his name.

Bracing himself for the worst, he turned the stove off and hurried towards the staircase.

As he reached the top, he reminded himself to thank Sirius once more.

Uncle Vernon stood outside of his door, his face resembling that of a clown's. His skin was pure white, accompanied by two bright red splotches on either cheek. The end of his nose was more bulbous and shaded crimson. His eyebrows were comically large, appearing drawn on in black, whilst lipstick was applied in a manner that made him appear to be permanently beaming. A rainbow afro completed the look.

"What is the meaning of this, boy?" he hissed. "Explain yourself! What is this freakishness?!"

The shout rang through the house, and he saw his aunt and Dudley peeking out into the hallway from the other rooms.

"Uh, my godfather was here," Harry replied, hiding his face and doing his best to stifle sniggers that threatened to break out. "You know, the mass-murderer one? I'm not allowed to do magic outside of school."

Somehow, his Uncle's face managed to redden through the chalky facepaint.

"Vernon," Petunia whispered from behind, "leave it."

After a tense moment, he stabbed a finger towards the stairs.

"Out," he said through gritted teeth. "OUT!"

Harry obeyed, not wishing to test his luck further. He knew his uncle would be twice as mad after finding a cold, half-cooked breakfast in the kitchen where Harry had left it. Fingering the blackthorn wand in his pocket, he opened the door.

As he crossed the threshold, he heard another shout ring through the house.

"If you're back before dark, boy, you'll regret it!"

Fortunately, the sun was not overly harsh today, and Harry found the cool morning air refreshing. He walked aimlessly through Little Whinging, lost in his thoughts for hours.

Harry kept to the smaller streets, not wanting to have neighbours who knew of him staring out the window.

At around late afternoon, he ended up at a small park he'd frequented whenever he'd been able to get away in his pre-Hogwarts days, which fortunately had a functional water fountain. Harry was surprised Dudley's gang hadn't trashed it by now. The park was relatively out of the way, which was why he'd become so fond of it.

Occasional pangs of hunger reminded him that he'd both skipped breakfast and lunch, but he figured that things could be worse. At this time last year, Fleur had been a stranger to him.

It was somehow pleasant to sit on the swingset and observe his surroundings. As homogenous as Little Whinging's suburbia was, the lengthening shadows and evening light made it seem like an entirely different world. The pink and orange mottling of clouds above him added undeniable beauty to the otherwise dull setting. Lush, green leaves on the park's tall trees shimmered in the setting sun's golden glow, and he couldn't help but wish that Fleur was here to enjoy it with him.

Deciding to enjoy the moment, he closed his eyes and allowed the cool, earthy breeze to wash over him, content to let the minutes continue to pass.

Harry was alarmed when he felt something press against his subconscious. It seemed familiar, yet the sensation was foreign. A moment later, it was gone, and Harry was left sitting on the swing, head swivelling around. His hand slowly let go of the blackthorn wand in his pocket as he failed to see anything out of the ordinary, though he remained alert.

"Harry!"

He thought he heard someone call his name, but again upon looking around he found no one. Deciding to head back, as he was a half-hour walk away from Privet Drive, Harry stood and began to make his way across the grass.

Hearing quick footsteps on the grass behind him, he turned, grabbing for his wand. Something slammed into him with enough force to knock him on his back before he was able to react. The air left his lungs, leaving him spluttering and winded.

He froze when he caught sight of the silver hair and enchanting blue eyes.

"Harry," she breathed, before gripping his face with both hands and kissing him hard, to which he responded enthusiastically.

Her rosy scent filled his senses, and he felt that he truly couldn't get enough of her.

Fleur eventually broke off, panting against his chest. To his dismay, he noticed that she had tear tracks on her cheeks.

"What's wrong?" he asked softly, wiping them away with the pad of his thumb.

Seeing her eyes well up again, Harry slowly rolled them over so that she was on the grass, allowing him to stand. Using strength he didn't know he had, he picked her up in a bridal carry, murmuring to her as he walked over to sit against a tree.

Harry carefully slid his back down the trunk to sit at its base, as he had numerous times with Fleur at Hogwarts. Though this time, she sat sideways across his lap, head buried in his shoulder, rather than between his legs. He decided to reword the question.

"Not that I'm unhappy to see you, but why are you here, Fleur?"

His voice came out just above a whisper, his hand stroking her hair carefully.

"I thought you might've been taken… or worse," she choked out in a whisper. "Sirius was planning to surprise you with a visit from both of us."

He was touched that Sirius would do such a thing for him. However, that didn't explain why she was so emotional.

"And?" he prodded, trying to toe the fine line between answers and her emotional state.

"They're dead, Harry," Fleur whispered between choked sobs. "All dead."

Harry felt the panic rising within him, but did his best to hide it from her.

"Who's dead? What's going on?"

"Your family," she responded shakily.

Her tears were beginning to soak into his shirt, just below his collarbone. He continued to stroke her hair until his hand froze when he realised what she'd said.

"Who? The Dursleys?"

She nodded, wiping her nose. He felt his blood run cold.

"Sirius?"

Her hand tightened on his shirt, and she shook her head. He breathed a sigh of relief and immediately felt terrible.

It hadn't fully sunk in. The last of his blood relations were dead, and Harry didn't know what to make of it. They hadn't exactly been kind to him but didn't deserve death either. Especially not Dudley.

"How?"

"Death Eaters," she responded, her voice a bit steadier now.

"Do you know what happened?" he asked carefully.

Fleur looked up at him, almost pleadingly. He trailed his thumb across her bottom lip, causing her to swallow heavily. Leaning down, Harry gave her a tender kiss, which she immediately deepened. They only parted for air.

He wasn't sure which one of them needed it more.

"Dumbledore was there," she said quietly after a moment of silence, appearing calmer. "He said something about the blood wards having been breached by Voldemort himself."

He felt numb at the revelation. His relatives had probably suffered horribly.

"An Order member was killed," Fleur added, "they had people keeping watch on you, and the one on guard fell asleep. They said he was called Fletcher or something, I wasn't paying much attention."

Harry tightened his grip further on her. He was partially relieved to not recognise the name, but it did not sit well with him that so many had died on his behalf.

They sat together for multiple minutes, neither saying a word.

"Where are the others?" he eventually asked, receiving a strained smile from her.

"I felt you," she said. "I… left them behind."

"How?"

Fleur stood shakily and pulled him up, moving away from the tree with his hand still in hers. Turning, she reached up and gently placed her palm against his cheek. Harry could only just make out her smile in the fading light. He was glad to see that it appeared more genuine. The flow of tears had stopped, too.

"Ready?" she whispered.

He nodded, and her face scrunched up in concentration. Suddenly, they were surrounded by two great, silvery wings. Harry stared in amazement, pushing his current thoughts to the side. He reached out to touch the leathery skin. It was semi-transparent and featherless, but incredibly soft.

"Beautiful," he murmured, more to himself than Fleur.

She beamed at him, and he barely had time to react. For the second time, Harry was pushed onto his back, the air leaving his lungs. The impact was softened by the soft fabric of her wings beneath him. They surrounded the both of them in a silvery cocoon, barely letting enough light through to see her face.

Though, he couldn't miss the pair of ocean-blue eyes descending towards his own, gazing at him tenderly. They were almost glowing with a light of their own. Harry was convinced he'd never seen anything so stunning before, and they could make him forget about anything. Thousands of thoughts were whirling through his mind, but above all, one of them drowned out the others.

"I love you," he blurted.

It was neither the time nor place for such an admission. Regardless, he felt he had to make it. If something happened to either of them before he could, he'd never forgive himself. Not even in the afterlife.

Fleur paused on her way down, and he felt her exhale heavily, body tensing where it pressed against his. And then, within the blink of an eye, she was kissing him with a ferocity he'd never seen from her before. Whenever he thought he'd get a moment of respite, she renewed her offensive, giving Harry no choice but to respond. Luckily for him, he didn't mind at all.

"I love you too," she murmured once she'd finally drawn back slightly, hands cupping his face.

Harry pulled her to him tighter in response, feeling her sigh against him as he did so. They lay there for a short while, completely enveloped in the warm cocoon of Fleur's wings, shielding them from the cool air outside.

"How long have you waited?" Fleur asked quietly, tucking her head underneath his chin.

"End of the third task, I think," he replied, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. "You were my last thought."

She tightened her grip, almost painfully. He felt her wings flex against him.

"I'm not hurting you, am I?" he asked, suddenly conscious of how delicate they looked.

"Non, mon amour."

For some reason, her French was a great reassurance to him. The language caressed his eardrums pleasantly, and he didn't think he'd ever get tired of it. Especially when it was spoken by Fleur.

A comfortable silence settled until she broke it, shifting against him. It was like both of them had wordlessly agreed to comfort each other for the moment, searching for anything to talk about other than what Fleur had announced to him. It was undeniably selfish, but neither wanted to acknowledge that. They could deal with the events when they were ready.

"This is the last stage of my maturation," Fleur mentioned quietly. "It happened overnight, and I'm more Veela than I thought."

"How do you feel about that?"

He felt her smile against his neck.

"I like it," she murmured. "I can feel you."

Harry panicked as her words registered, trying to shift her weight off his torso, but she held on tightly.

"No, not like that," she laughed, grinning up at him. "Relax, Harry."

Harry looked down at her, unable to fight a grin of his own. The heat that had rushed to his cheeks remained.

"You're a menace."

Fleur beamed, looking completely unapologetic.

"You're are too innocent," she cooed.

"Is that what I felt before? Ten minutes or so before you shouted my name?" Harry asked, desperately changing the topic.

She nodded, her face falling.

"It was. I would love to explain it, but I left your godfather and the others. They are most likely panicking by now."

He shared her sentiment. The reality of what she'd said to him before crashed back into him.

The Dursleys were supposedly dead. Dumbledore's blood wards were no more, and a member of his Order had also been killed. It immediately brought back his morose thoughts, however, he remained mostly numb to it all.

"Right," he said, sighing. "We'd better get going then."

Fleur was light enough for him to sit up and pull her up with him, and she let him do so, wings seamlessly receding into her back.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly, not letting go of his hand.

"I don't know."

Harry still didn't know how to feel. He wasn't sure if he should be angry, sad, or both.

Her hand squeezed his own, and he took comfort from the action.

"Let's go," he murmured.

They wandered the dark streets together, the only light that remained coming from the streetlights beside the footpath. Fleur had pressed herself tightly against his side, and he'd wound an arm around her waist, the other beside him to reach for the wand if needed.

As they turned onto Privet Drive, they saw the street swarming with robed figures. Harry kept his hand on the base of his wand but relaxed slightly at seeing some wearing crimson robes and shimmering air that indicated heavy warding.

"Mr Potter!"

Shouts and chatter hit him all at once as he passed through the wards, and he nearly jumped as the Minister for Magic emerged from the unilluminated lawn of Number 10, surrounded by multiple Aurors and a stern-faced woman with shoulder-length red hair.

"Yes?" Harry replied carefully, ready for any sudden movements. He felt Fleur tense beside him.

"Where have you been?" he questioned, brow furrowed. "Your family has been murdered. You were lucky you weren't with them."

"Out."

The Minister eyed him for a moment.

"Right. My condolences for your losses. Your godfather should be somewhere here - he's agreed to take responsibility for you."

Harry almost didn't believe what he'd just heard.

"My godfather?" he managed, nearly stuttering.

"Yes, Sirius Black? We recently had evidence come in to corroborate some of the shortcomings of the previous administration," he said, turning to the woman beside him. "Amelia, would you please fill him in? I must talk to these reporters before they start harassing the muggles, and we don't have enough Obliviators on hand for that."

She nodded sharply, glancing down at the file she held.

"Your godfather was cleared this morning after Peter Pettigrew, who was believed to have been dead, was extradited from France," she said. "He was captured just days ago - it has been the quickest extradition process into Britain in our Ministry's history."

He looked to Fleur dumbly, and she smiled at him, wrapping an arm around his waist again.

"My father helped to work on the case," she answered quietly. "We wanted it to be a surprise for when you woke up, but there were some issues in the French ICW office. He'll tell you later"

Harry hugged her tightly for a moment.

"Thank you," he whispered in her ear, before releasing her.

It was a struggle to hold back his tears. The fresh tide of emotions nearly got the best of him.

"The Ministry was on the scene within minutes, but unfortunately not quick enough to prevent the murders," she said, drawing their attention back to her. "A known Death Eater was also apprehended and will be questioned extensively. Headmaster Dumbledore informed us of the attack just before we received reports of magic use in a muggle area."

"Thanks, Madam?..."

"Madam Bones," she filled in for him, eyes softening. "Nice to meet the both of you, as grim as the circumstances may be."

Fleur introduced herself, and they both shook the older woman's hand.

"Harry? HARRY!"

This time he managed to remain upright, but that was mainly due to the height of the man who'd just enveloped him in a spine-cracking hug.

Sirius pulled back, holding him at arm's length.

"Are you alright?" he asked worriedly, his eyes scanning Harry from head to toe.

"I'm fine, Sirius," Harry replied, the happiness at seeing him immediately fading as his thoughts turned to the Dursleys again.

"Thank god for that, kiddo," his godfather said. "I can't believe we thought it was a good idea to leave you here. Never again, mark my words. I've had your things sent to the Delacours' place, Sebastien invited us to stay. Does that sound alright?"

Harry could only nod, dumbstruck again. He was relieved he'd sent letters out the night before, for Hedwig would likely be dead if he hadn't.

Only briefly in his third year had he believed he could live with Sirius, and it was now a reality. Though, he felt horrible about how it had come to pass. He still hadn't even begun to process the fact that Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley, had been murdered in a likely brutal fashion.

His uncle had inadvertently saved his life this morning, and all Harry had done was laugh at him.

Harry's eyes found a white tarp illuminated by a streetlight out on the lawn of Number 4, and he nearly heaved at seeing it. The white light gleamed brightly off several splotches of deep red that covered it, confirming his belief that the attackers had not opted to use the Killing Curse.

Someone should've been there to stop it. Immense guilt welled up within him. Mere hours ago he'd been chuckling to himself over his Uncle.

He'd just told Fleur that he loved her, after receiving the news that they were dead. What was wrong with him?

Fleur spun him back her way, apparently knowing what he was thinking.

"Harry, they're gone. You can't do anything about it. It's not your fault," she said, taking his head in her hands again.

"It just can't be," he whispered. "Why didn't they burn the house down? Why is there no dark mark?"

"C'mon, Harry," Sirius murmured, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Let's get you home."

As much as it hurt to do so, Harry wrenched out of his grip. Fleur didn't let him get away, however, immediately drawing him into her embrace as if she knew what was about to happen.

He clutched her to him tightly and buried his face in her shoulder. Once she began to stroke his hair, Harry couldn't resist any longer. Years of suppressed tears flooded out unrestrained as he silently sobbed into her blouse. She murmured softly in his ear and continued to comfort him throughout it.

Some part of him tried to regain control, inevitably failing miserably. All he could do was focus on Fleur until his breathing slowed.

A/N

Thanks for the reviews and all, much appreciated as usual :) I love to read them. Also wow! 20 chapters!