A/N: The next chapter, and only one more to go, hooray! When I started this, I never expected I'd get all those lovely reviews; they have been my main motivation to carry on, even if it was a bit tough sometimes. Than you all for the interesting tips how to get Fleur to Hogwarts, they have been very valuable, but I'm telling you which I'm going to use.
Somepeople seem to be confused about the Scotland/England business, so, for your information: There is the (Great Britain), which consists of England, Wales and Scotland. And everything indicates Hogwarts must be somewhere in the north, the countryside is typical of Scotland. Like Salem is in Massachusetts, which is part of the US, so Hogwarts is in Scotland, which is part of (Great) Britain.
Well, in this chapter a long awaited step in our heroes' relationship finally happens, hope you enjoy!
And one more thing: Constructive criticism is not only welcome, it's essential for good writing. So don't hesitate if there is something you think could have been done better!
Chapter 30 - The Aftermath
June 26th, 1995
In the morning, I was allowed to leave the infirmary. I haven't seen Harry since our midnight talk, it seems they are going to keep him under observation for some more time.
Margaux and Iphigenie came to take me down to the carriage, and I was grateful to talk to someone who had not been involved in all the awful events. I hesitated for a moment, but then I told them exactly what had happened and what I had witnessed in the cemetery.
As I had expected, they found it hard to believe.
"And you are sure you haven't been dreaming?" Iphigenie asked, her eyes wide. "I mean, I can believe the thing about the Sphinx, and I can imagine that blackguard Krum hitting you with the curse, and that you blacked out, and everything, but-"
"Harry says he experienced the same things that I watched, they HAPPENED to him! How can you explain that with your dream theory?"
I must have sounded impatient, because she said at once:
"Sorry, you're right of course, it just seems so - so -"
"Bizarre," Margaux said, "and frightening. So I think we'd prefer it to be a dream, but we do believe you, of course!"
"Thanks," I said weakly. "I'd prefer that too, no kidding. But I'm afraid we'll have to face the facts... But tell me, what happened during my absence?"
"Well, nothing much, really," Margaux said hesitantly. "There was a great upheaval about Cedric's death, but every said it was just an accident, unfortunate, and deplorable, yes, but just an accident, and accidents will happen. Nobody said anything about Dark Lords, or Mange-Morts and things..."
"That's why we found your story so hard to believe, see?" Iphigenie put in apologetically.
"But I'm sure Harry told them..."
"If he did," Iphigenie reasoned calmly, "they just don't believe him. Delusions under stress, and hallucinations and things... And you can be sure everybody will prefer this explanation..."
"I even heard some of the Hogwarts students say he was inventing stories," Margaux added.
"What? Why would he?"
"Craving for attention, wanting to be in the centre, and so on..."
An awful rage surged within me.
"What absolute rubbish! I - I'll go and see Dumbledore! He'll believe it when I tell him my side of the story!"
"You think he'll even hear you out? He'll have other things on his mind."
"I don't care! He'll listen to me! Damn, he might even hold Harry responsible for Cedric's death!"
But before I could rush off to the castle, Maxime entered.
"Dumbledore wants you at the castle, Fleur," she said, and the look she gave me was the strangest I had ever seen from her: worried, and fascinated at the same time. "Follow me."
So we went up to the castle, but not, as I had expected, to the headmaster's office, but to the infirmary, and into Harry's room. He was sitting at the small table, wearing his Hogwarts robes. Dumbledore was sitting opposite him, and a short, fat man in a pin-striped suit, twirling a lime green bowler hat in his hands was pacing the room. Even for British standards, he was an exceptional example of bad taste, what with his scarlet tie and pointed purple shoes. When Maxime entered, the room seemed to shrink suddenly. Harry gave me a small unhappy smile when he saw me.
"Ah, here you are, Mlle Delacroix," the short man said.
I took an instant dislike to him.
"Delacour, if you please," I corrected, using my haughtiest tone, and, for the first time, feeling sorry the Veela charm didn't work any more.
"Whatever," he said impatiently. "This boy,-" he indicated Harry with a gesture, "has been telling me an absurd cock-and-bull story about You-know-who returning. And he says you can corroborate it. And Dumbledore, - " he shot the headmaster a nasty look, "insists that I hear what you have to say. So what is your story?"
So, I told him everything I had seen and experienced, from the Cruciatus curse to my waking up in the infirmary. It was no use.
"Rubbish, as I expected. Hallucinations, illusions; no proof whatsoever."
"But-"
"Be silent, boy! The Prophet is perfectly right. You should never have been allowed to enter into the Tournament in the first place. Now look what has happened-"
Anger flared up in me, and once again I found myself wishing for my grandmother's gift of transformation.
"Look here," I hissed at him, and there must have been something in my eyes that made him take a step backwards. "I have no idea who you are, and I don't care. Are you saying that Harry is a liar, or a psychopath, or-"
"My dear girl-"
"I'm not your dear girl, you pompous clown! Harry is telling the truth, and so am I! I don't know why you don't want to accept that! We've experienced exactly the same things, now try to explain that away with your theory of dreams and hallucinations!"
He looked at me uncomfortably for a moment, but soon got back his composure.
"I don't have to listen to this kind of thing. After all, what is there in the testimony of a foreigner, and an only part-human one, at that! I've heard enough, Dumbledore, and I refuse to listen to any more of this absurd story! And if you insist on accepting it, I'll have to take my own measures."
And he slammed his hat on his head and marched out of the room.
I stared after him speechlessly for a moment. It had been a long time ago indeed that I had heard that insult.
"Who was that?"
"Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic," Harry said with an apologetic grin. "Probably the biggest fool ever to be in that honourable job. I'm sorry he said those awful things to you; and, - and thanks for standing up to him for me."
I went over to him and put a hand on his shoulder but said nothing.
"I also apologise for the Minister's behaviour, Mlle Delacour," the headmaster said to me. "He is frightened, and chooses to close his eyes to the obvious. I fear his awakening will be all the more unpleasant…"
Harry was just rising from his chair, when Dumbledore held up his hand.
"There is one more thing. I haven't told the Minister, and there are only a very few people who know this, but if anybody has a right to know it's you: Cedric Diggory-"
He saw the expression on our faces, and went on with a little smile, "Everybody, or most people, I should say, think he is dead. Well, that's not exactly true. He was hit by a curse,-"
"The Avada," Harry said tonelessly.
"Yes, but Cedric is not what we commonly understand by dead. He is in a state like Petrification, only much deeper, and no known remedy seems to help, so I suppose the difference is more of a theoretical nature. And of course, nobody has an idea if his condition can ever be reversed. We believe something must have deflected the curse ever so slightly…"
"Your owl's screech!" Harry said suddenly. "It irritated Wormtail, and so his aim was not perfect…"
"It is a possibility," Dumbledore mused. "However, I don't think it will help us much. Anyway, there is hardly anything we can do at the moment, and as there is also no reason to keep Harry here any longer, you might to leave now. The weather seems to be quite fine today, and I believe you can need everything you can get to cheer up a bit. Madame,-" he turned to Maxime, "if you'd be so kind to accompany me to my office; there are a couple of things I wish to discuss with you."
As we turned to go, in an unconscious gesture Harry took hold of my hand, and I had the feeling he was clinging to it almost desperately. I returned the pressure of his fingers.
At the entrance to the infirmary, we ran into Hermione and Ron, who had obviously been waiting there for a chance to go and visit Harry.
"Harry! At last-"
Ron stopped short when he saw we were still holding hands. As if waking from a dream, Harry let go.
"We were just going to murder Pomfrey, to get in and see you," Ron continued. "But here you are, finally. Now will you tell us what's really happened?"
"Yes, the school is full of the most absurd rumours," Hermione said impatiently. "So let us have the TRUE story now!"
"What say if we grab a bite to eat while you tell us?" Ron urged.
"Honestly, Ron," Said Hermione, rolling her eyes.
"I'm afraid we are not quite in the mood for eating," Harry sounded tired and apathetic.
"But you have a right to hear the truth, of course."
And so he told them everything, and I can only imagine how he must have felt recounting the horrible story still another time. I added my own impressions, until we had finished the sad task at last.
The others were silent for rather a long time, Ron even seemed to have forgotten about eating.
"Dad always says he is a bloody idiot!" he burst out at last. "Beats me how he ever got to be Minister of Magic!"
There was nothing much to add to this statement, and we fell silent again. Finally, I returned to the carriage, where I told Margaux and Iphigenie I wanted to be alone for a bit, which they understood.
Now that I have written all this, I begin to realise all the implications and consequences of what has happened. It seems the English authorities are going to turn a blind eye on the events, and will pretend nothing out of the ordinary has happened. I cannot imagine how they will deal with Harry, who, I am sure will not keep silent about it all. They are sure to give him a hard time. And I – oh, I hate to even think of it! – I will return home to France in a week's time. I have never disliked my mother more than now, and I can't imagine living with her as if nothing had ever happened. It's definitely going to be one of the worst summers ever!
Evening
Dinner was a dismal affair. When Cho appeared, her eyes were red and puffy, and she didn't eat anything. I couldn't bear looking at her, and so I took her aside and told her what I had heard from Dumbledore.
"You're not just trying to comfort me?" she whispered, her voice choking.
"No, of course not, why would I? But it's a secret, and you should not tell anybody."
"But I must- where is he? I must see him!"
"I have no idea, but I'm sure if you ask Dumbledore, he will tell you more. But what he told Harry and me did not sound too optimistic. He may very well never wake up again…"
"No matter! I must see him! There is hope, at least… Oh, thank you so much!"
And sobbing again, she hugged me fervently.
June 27th, 1995
The day has been interminably long. I have not been in the mood for anything, and have just whiled away the hours, my mind revolving around the horrible events again and again. At dinner, Harry and I exchanged glances as if we felt guilty or something, but did not talk to each other. As far as I could see, he did not talk to Ron or Hermione either.
June 28th, 1995
Something has happened to brighten my depressive state. After I had spent most of the morning alone in our dormitory, I pulled myself together with an effort and went outside, hoping the fresh air and warm sun would do me good. When I turned the corner at the rear of the carriage, I stopped in my tracks: There, in a tight embrace, were Iphigenie and Margaux, kissing passionately, oblivious to everything around them!
Just as I was turning to creep away silently, Margaux noticed me.
"Wait!" she called out.
I stopped.
"Well, that explains a lot," I told them as they came over, blushing crimson. "Dating Hogwarts students, indeed! Really, you might have told me!"
But in spite of my state of depression I couldn't help smiling.
"We – we didn't know how you'd take it…" Iphigenie stammered.
"Thought I might be jealous of you?" I teased.
"No," Margaux saw the joke first. "But, see, well, it's not what is called 'normal', is it, so we were afraid you'd be shocked…"
"Well, I really am disgusted – that you still don't know me well enough! The thing is for you to be happy, and as long as you are, it's nobody else's business! I may not be inclined the same way, but I'm happy for you!"
They looked relieved, and we decided to go for a walk around the lake together.
"It's a blessing not having to hide this any longer," Margaux said happily, grabbing Iphigenie's hand as we walked.
June 29th, 1995
The exam results for Seventh Year have been announced, and everyone has at least passed. Iphigenie has come first with seven perfect grades, and Margaux is also happy enough with her five.
I'm still feeling somewhat numb inside, and I have not seen much of Harry, too, which doesn't improve my mood at all.
Everybody, the Beauxbatons students included, is discussing the weirdest theories, and nobody is even close to the truth. I don't really know if I should tell them my story. I'm afraid it won't do much good at all.
June 30th, 1995
At dinner, Cho came over to me. Her eyes are still red, but she seems to have calmed down a bit, nevertheless.
"Dumbledore allowed me to see him," she told me in a whisper. "But he says I must not tell anybody. He is in a secret chamber in the castle, and only Dumbledore knows how to get in. He was most kind and understanding, said how very sorry he felt for me, but there was nothing I could do to help. He said the only thing I could do for him was to continue my studies, and perhaps find some remedy to get him back. He says I owe it to him, and I'm sure he's right! I'll work extra hard and if there is something to bring him back to me, I will find it!"
Her eyes glittered through her tears as she said it.
I gave her a big hug. "I admire you, Cho," I told her.
July 1st, 1995
I don't know what to do. I feel like jumping for joy, crying buckets and banging my head against the wall, all at the same time. Perhaps writing everything down and reliving it as I go will help me to clear my mind…
I had been wandering around aimlessly most of the afternoon, and had finally sat down on the stone bench on the lakeside. I looked out at the glittering surface that was rippling slightly in the warm breeze. But try as I might, I could not follow any straight train of thoughts. I always returned in my mind to the images of Cedric, of the Dark Lord rising from the cauldron, and of Harry being hit with the Cruciatus curse. And in between flitted the face of my mother, which turned into Morgaine's and then the Sphinx's, and Cedric again… I believe I must have dozed off for a couple of minutes.
"No, it's not your fault," a familiar voice brought me back to my senses. Without my noticing, Harry had sat down next to me.
"Sh," he said when I wanted to answer, and put a finger to my lips, a gesture that sent a shiver down my back. "There was nothing you could have done," he continued seriously. "If what happened to Cedric was anybody's fault, it was mine. I shouldn't have let him touch that bloody cup together with me! Then he'd still be around! See what comes from fair play!" he added bitterly.
"Oh, I know," he went on again, before I could say anything, "how could I have known, and everything… I didn't even have an idea what was going on before… Of course I keep telling myself all that, but then, when I think of his parents…"
His voice broke and he looked down at his feet.
"Dou you know," he continued, "he might come after you next? I mean, he is sure to find out who that owl really was, and I don't think he'll just ignore it. So you are in danger, too, and you know why? Because of me!"
I am still surprised at myself, but I just could not bear it any longer. Without a conscious thought I leaned over towards him, and took his face in my hands. His eyes widened in surprise, but before he could say anything, I covered his mouth with mine, closing my eyes tightly and willing all my emotions to flow over to his tortured soul.
He recoiled in the first shock, but I held him close, and soon he began to relax slowly, and I felt him melt against my embrace.
I don't really know how to put my experience of my first real kiss with Harry Potter into words. It was not the mind-shattering firework that cheap romances are so full of, his lips were dry and a bit rough, and his face was slightly stubbly and prickly. But it was a feeling I have never ever had before, like finding something you've been looking for for ages, and, yes, in a way I think I can say time DID stop…
Eventually, I pulled away, and only now I realised what had happened, and the shock on my part set in. What if he did not feel the same way about me? What if I had frightened him off? What if I had destroyed our friendship with no chance of gaining something else in its place?
A look into his emerald eyes showed me that he was still perfectly bewildered.
"You know, Harry Potter," I said breathlessly, grasping both his hands, "I think I should have done this ages ago! And whatever happens, we are in it together, and I promise I'll stand by you!"
"Wow, I never thought-" he stammered, "I never-, I mean, - ah, to hell with it!"
And he pulled me closer to him to plant a clumsy kiss on my lips. Whatever they may say about the Veela's natural talent in kissing and the related arts, it's definitely not true for quarter Veelas. But nevertheless, although our noses banged together, it was lovely, sweet exactly because of our mutual clumsiness.
Slowly and tentatively I touched my tongue to his lips, the sensation sending another thrill down my spine. He responded and as both our tongues touched it was as if a spark flitted through my brain. I put my hand in his hair and pulled his head even closer, while his hands were moving up and down my back in slow caressing movements.
Finally, we broke the kiss, panting heavily.
"To Hell with Voldemort," I whispered, "we'll take care of the bastard!"
He grinned at me broadly.
"Do you know, I'm beginning to think we will. Do you realise you've just said his NAME?"
"Must be the effect you are having on me," I smiled back at him. "Let's see if more of this treatment improves it!"
We did, and it did.
After an unspecified time spent kissing, - it's amazing how quickly one gets accustomed to it, and how naturally it comes after just a little practice, - we leaned back, our hands locked, gazing out at the lake.
"When water and fire are married, let the Dark One beware of the Scorpion's sting," I said dreamily.
"What?"
So I had to tell him the story of my friends' hoax that so suddenly had turned mysteriously serious.
"Now I think it's clear who the Dark One is," I went on. "And the Scorpion must be me, it's my sign, but the water and fire part still beats me."
"Scorpion?" he mused. "What did we learn about those signs? Wait... yes, each of the twelve signs belongs to one of the four elements... and the Scorpion, - let me think... yes, I do believe it's a water sign..."
"I don't understand how I missed this for so long! And then your sign..."
"Leo - and - I don't believe it, Leo IS a fire sign!"
I gasped as the full implication hit me.
"So, - do we have to get married?" My tone was only half joking.
"Not that I would mind much," re replied, picking up my tone. „But it need not necessarily mean that. In old alchemical texts, 'marry' usually means unite, become blended, become one..."
"Which would be so much more than several marriages I could name..." I added.
"Thinking of your mother? Don't. You're different, - WE are different!"
To which there didn't seem any more appropriate answer than another prolonged kissing session.
The sun was already going down when we finally rose from our seat. We had completely forgotten the time, and it was well past dinner.
"Don't worry, I'll get Dobby to fix me something," he said, grinning. "Would you like to come along and grab something, too?"
"Much as I'd like to, I don't think I will. There are so many thoughts and feelings I have to sort out, so I'd just like to be alone for a bit. But how about going flying again tomorrow afternoon?"
We agreed to meet right after lunch at the quidditch pitch which in the meantime had been magically restored to its usual condition. As I watched him walk up towards the castle, I was happy to see a lightness in his step that had not been there during the last few days. Thoughtfully, I returned to the carriage.
Now, after I have written all this down, my exhilaration is gone and a feeling of dark depression has set in. It's Friday today, and I'll have to return the day after tomorrow. How will I ever manage to see him again? Fire and water marrying, indeed! What if water and fire never get the chance to meet again? He's returning to those horrible muggles, and I'll spend the summer cooped up in the old mansion, and then go to school again for one more year, a couple of thousand kilometres away.
Do I regret it? I'm not sure... but, no, after all, I don't think I do... it will hurt to have to go away, it certainly will, but at least I know there is something... something important... "WE are different", that's what he said. And I guess this is worth a good deal of the pain that it's going to cause...