Author's Note: Having received far more reviews than I required to post the next chapter, I decided to put it up now. Don't go thinking that updates this frequent will become a common occurrence; school this week has been exceptionally slow. Though the reviews do help the inspiration flow ;-)
Thanks to: avalon64, starfan1, markg, xyvortex, Tomanak, Vampirehelsing, Kyra2117, Kates Master, PennyP, druccillamalfoyrox, GoSnOgGaTrEe, Jessie, Jessica, BUBBLE, shadow00, Bob33, and Taeniaea for your reviews!
huge euge: Thank you so much for your review! That was the biggest compliment I have ever received. I nearly fainted. Seriously, thank you so much!
This chapter is dedicated to huge euge, because you rock!
Disclaimer: In case you missed it the last ten times, I don't own anything.
Harry stared into the icy blue eyes of a girl he barely recognized. It had been so long since he had seen her, and she had been so transformed by her grief, that it was inconceivable to him that this was the same haughty, intimidating, and vital girl that he had known years ago. It seemed equally inconceivable that she could remember him, though the knowing smirk that played at her mouth suggested otherwise.
He stood there, mouth opening and closing wordlessly, for what seemed like an eternity. What was he to do? Years of living in solitude had done nothing to improve his people skills, and he wasn't quite ready to begin fielding uncomfortable questions about his disappearance. Even if he was (though he was quite certain he never would be), Fleur Delacour wasn't exactly at the top of his list of people he could talk easily with. He wasn't positive she was on that list at all.
Fleur didn't seem to mind the silence. Rather, it appeared to amuse her, if the laughter lighting up her eyes was any indication. Harry couldn't imagine why she would find this funny; he himself had never found anything less amusing.
Looking Fleur straight in the eye, he said, "Hello."
She smiled a bit when he finally acknowledged her. It almost immediately disappeared, however, and was replaced by a searching look as she surveyed him. Harry found this extremely disconcerting. Fleur looked to be inspecting him, rather like someone would look over a horse before they bought it. He winced as he saw her eyes sweep over his forehead, widening a bit as they settled on the spot where a lightning bolt scar had stood brazenly just a few years before. It was still there, of course, but was considerably more fain than it had been.
Looking at him sharply, she frowned slightly. "Why are you 'here?" she inquired.
Harry felt heat rising to his face. Why was he there? What had made him think that he could just return to a world he hadn't known for seven years?
Sensing Harry's obvious discomfort, Fleur decided to intervene.
"'Arry, I am zinking zat zis may be a long talk. Let us go to ze house, so we can talk better."
Not really comprehending what going to "ze house" would entail, Harry wordlessly nodded and began to follow her.
Thoughts chased each other around his head as they walked. He was searching for answers to questions he had no answer to. He was hunting for a way to hide the truth that had started it all. Though he was unsure about many things, he was certain that he would never reveal what happened that night. He couldn't. The pain he would endure at their reactions—the pain they would suffer to hear it. Harry refused to cause them any more anguish than they had already borne. Somewhere in the back of his mind, though, he knew that he wouldn't tell them because he couldn't bear to acknowledge it—to make it real.
His thoughts were interrupted when he found himself standing in front of the Grangers' house, Fleur waiting for him expectantly. Harry shook himself out of his reverie.
"No," he protested, face white. "I can't go in there," he explained to Fleur. He could feel his face heat up. "Everyone is in there. People might—"
"No one will," Fleur assured him. He looked at her, his incredulity apparent. "I promise," she added confidently. Harry didn't look comforted.
Fleur rolled her eyes. "Come on, 'Arry." With that, she grabbed his arm and dragged him inside.
Wearily, he followed, putting up no resistance as she frog-marched him through the side door.
They were walking (or being lead) through an upstairs hallway when a bundle of red hair ambushed them. The bundle bounced excitedly as it followed them.
"Oh, darling!" Fleur cried as she swooped down and enveloped the bundle in a hug. Harry nervously tried to hide his head.
Fleur laughed when she noticed this. "No need to worry, 'Arry, zis is only my daughter. Eleanor."
Harry blinked. A daughter? Fleur had a daughter? He vaguely remembered secret smiles that Fleur and Bill had shared seven years earlier. He recalled the way Bill's hand would occasionally slip to Fleur's stomach when he held her. Harry felt his stomach drop to the floor. He had missed this. Of course. Things like that really shouldn't have surprised him anymore.
Fleur suddenly adopted a stern expression.
"Ella, what are you doing here?"
"They sent me up, mama. To tell you Aunt Ginny woke up." Fleur chanced a look at Harry when her daughter said this. He looked immensely guilty.
"Very well, chéri. Merci." Fleur kissed Ella on the cheek.
"Mama," Ella said, giving Harry a sidelong glance. "They want you to come."
"Want me to come? Why?"
"Aunt Ginny…When she woke up, she—well, I'm not really sure," Ella replied, frowning and looking searchingly at Harry. "But it was because of him," she accused, a small finger pointing at Harry.
"Non, chéri, non! Do not point!" Fleur admonished her. "Tell me exactly."
"When Aunt Ginny woke up, she was crying," Ella informed her. "And shouting his name."
Fleur raised an eyebrow. "We must talk about more than I thought," she told Harry. Turning back to her daughter, she said, "Tell them I will be there soon. And don't," she added as the girl turned to leave, "mention my guest," she continued, indicating Harry.
The girl nodded and shot Harry a small smile before bouncing down the stairs.
Harry looked at Fleur disbelievingly. "You…You just—Won't she—I mean," Harry spluttered.
Fleur looked amusedly at Harry. "My daughter is discreet," she said. Not quite sure why he was listening to her, Harry followed her into the room that she was gesturing towards.
Ella was not a normal six year old. Her father had died before she was born. She spoke English very well, and was sufficiently fluent in French. When she turned eleven, she would attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Ella was also very smart. Hearing her aunt shout the name Harry and meeting a man by the same name a short while later was enough for her to deduce that she had found the man her aunt was so heartbreakingly crying for. It also didn't take much brainpower to connect that man with a man she had heard about her whole life, a man who (by no coincidence at all, she suspected) was also called Harry.
Yes, Ella was a very smart girl. She was also, as her mother claimed, discreet. And being her mother's child, she knew very well how to turn a situation to her advantage.
After telling the group gathered in the room with her grief-stricken aunt that her mother had some business to attend to and would be along shortly, Ella made her way back to the stairs. There was minimal bouncing involved this time. In fact, if anyone had passed the stairs, they would have noticed nothing amiss, so stealthily she was creeping.
Reaching the top of the stairs, she carefully made her way through the hallway, trying to figure out which room her mother had taken the strange man to. Finding one that had murmuring voices behind it, she sat down. Comfortably settled, Ella prepared to find out what exactly the big deal was about Harry Potter.
"'O else knows?" Fleur asked Harry just as he finished settling himself in an old, red armchair that wasn't, in fact, very comfortable. He looked up, appearing very confused.
"Knows?" he echoed. He hadn't told anyone. No one else knew what happened. Unless—
"Knows that you are 'ere," she clarified. Oh.
Harry looked pensive for a moment. Would Remus mind if he told? He was certain Fleur would know if he lied, and he didn't care to test her patience. At a loss for what to say, he merely sat, staring blankly at her.
Fleur narrowed her eyes. "I am waiting," she said imperiously.
Harry was reminded forcibly of why he had never been over-fond of Fleur.
"Do not forget that I 'ave a six year old child running about 'o knows you are 'ere," she said, unnoticeably glancing at the door. Harry looked a bit sullen.
"'Arry," she said, "you will 'ave to tell sometime." Harry was forced to admit that she had a point. After all, she had him trapped in a room, wandless. Additionally, she had a daughter who knew he was there wandering around. He suspected there was some sort of secret Veela power that allowed her to telepathically communicate with her child, too. He didn't really think that. But he wouldn't put it past her to learn how to communicate telepathically, just to spite him.
"Remus," he said finally. She beamed at him.
"And 'ow did 'e find you?" she prompted.
"Well—wait a minute, how did you know that someone knew I was here?" he demanded.
She rolled her eyes pityingly. "'Ow else would you 'ave known about ze wedding?" she asked. Oh.
"I…I did magic," he said grudgingly. Fleur raised an eyebrow.
"You 'ave been 'iding goodness-knows-where for seven years, and you decide suddenly one day to do magic?" she inquired, looking at him suspiciously.
"What?" he asked, feeling uncomfortable. It wasn't as though it was horrible to do magic. He was willing to bet she did it all the time.
"Nozzing," she said. "It's just zat you 'ave been acting like you did not want to be found."
"I didn't want to be found!" Harry protested.
"Zen why did you do ze one zing zat could connect you to your old life?" she asked loftily. Bloody psychiatrist.
Harry was now very angry, though not necessarily at Fleur. How could he have been so stupid? He now knew that he had made a series of very bad choices in recent periods of time. Harry had a headche.
Author's Note: The next chapter will be up December 17.
Coming soon: Unhappy, uncomfortable, but ultimately fluffy reunions. (I hope you liked this chapter, Kates Master.