Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Chapter 22 - Afterglow

Harry sat on the edge of Fleur's bed, absent-mindedly flipping through his photo album. With the loss of his wand, it was perhaps his most treasured possession just behind his father's invisibility cloak. To him, it was more important than even the Marauder's Map.

Harry hadn't opened it since the beginning of the year. He'd sworn to have made them proud before he looked at them again, and whilst he previously didn't think he had, Fleur had helped him to see sense. They'd made it through the tournament, with both of them being recognised as the official winners. With his brief stay in the hospital wing, he'd missed the Daily Prophet announcement on the subject.

According to Fleur, he hadn't missed much, however. Whilst it had been front-page news, there was no further elaboration. Even the supposed awards ceremony had not been mentioned, so they'd assumed it was cancelled. Not that they were excited to attend, either. He'd personally stayed away from the papers since midway through the tournament, not overly interested in what they printed about him anymore.

On the bright side, the Daily Prophet had still seemed to paint him in a relatively good light, or so Fleur told him. Though he wouldn't bet against her burning down their Diagon Alley offices if they didn't. Once motivated, she wasn't the type to give up.

Harry was reluctant to leave the Delacour's chateau after just arriving, and he'd said as much to Fleur before breakfast. They could only assume that the event's organisers had felt too shaken by the events of the Third Task to acknowledge it publicly.

Fleur appeared to be affected the most, and his guilt was only compounded when he hadn't guessed as much by her reaction the previous day. He'd woken with her clinging to him during the first night, mumbling incoherently in her sleep. The following morning, she hadn't let him get out of bed for hours. Not much changed in the weeks following that first night, either.

He assumed it'd only been worsened by the events at Privet Drive.

The topic of leaving the chateau had come up when Fleur's parents had emphasised the need for him to get a wand as quickly as possible. Whilst he was reluctant, Harry had to agree that it was essential. He did not trust the one Sirius had given him; it felt stiff and clumsy in his hand, like a shorter, misbalanced Sword of Gryffindor.

Light footsteps alerted him to her presence, and he looked up from the moving images.

"So? What do you think?"

Fleur leaned against the doorframe, dressed in a skirt and blouse combo with her long, silver hair piled atop her head. Harry drank in the sight of her for a moment.

"Good. Uh, great," he added, seeing her cock an eyebrow.

A reluctant smile formed, accompanying the fond look she sent him.

"Not how I look, Harry," she said, now grinning widely, "but whether you want to go to the French wandmaker or the British one."

"Oh."

Only three weeks had passed since he'd arrived, but he would already cling to life with Fleur and her family with everything he had. It was incredible.

Sirius had visited regularly, though he seemed busy and worn down. However, the man never told him what he was up to, but Harry could only assume he was working with Sebastien in some capacity. Both men disappeared into the office for hours on end.

He couldn't complain, though. His godfather seemed content to let him enjoy the holidays with Fleur as much as he could. The family dynamic within the chateau fascinated him, for the only other references he had were his brief stay with the Weasleys and his late relatives.

Pushing away his mixed thoughts of the Weasleys, Harry brought his attention back to the topic at hand. He knew he should make an effort to contact them beyond Ginny, and the realisation that he would need to go to Ollivander to get any answers only further dulled his mood.

She and Hermione had gone nuts upon hearing about his first proper day at his relatives. Harry wasn't even sure that he himself had processed it yet, though he felt lighter since he'd finally let it out that night.

"We need to see Ollivander."

Fleur nodded, staring out the window. He suspected she wanted answers just as much. It would be the first time he'd gone anywhere beyond the grounds of the chateau, and Harry wasn't quite sure he ever wanted to leave.

Yet some things had to be done. He couldn't become complacent now. Fleur had protested against him doing at least a little bit of work every day, but Harry had refused to budge. She eventually seemed to notice how important it was to him and apologised. Yet, he couldn't fault her for just wanting him to enjoy himself.

Harry set aside the photo album carefully, meeting Fleur's gaze as he stood. Her eyes crinkled at the corners, and he wondered if their deep blue shade would ever fail to soothe him.

Diagon Alley was full of activity. It seemed that Voldemort was continuing to lie low, and the thought unnerved Harry just as much as the people swarming around him. Having never visited the alley this early in the summer, he had no clue that it would be so busy. Fleur kept a tight grip on him, with Mr Delacour and Sirius following them at a more sedate pace, just quick enough to keep them in view.

The senior Delacour had procured international Portkeys for the four of them, set to activate for the return trip within three hours. Each of them had their small trinket tucked securely in a pocket, which would automatically whisk them away once ready.

Ollivanders was a small wand shop, tucked in between two more significant buildings. Yet, its prominent storefront seemed to assert its position enough to make it just as noticeable. It was as if the building had resisted generations of change within Diagon Alley, stubbornly surviving as those around it were redeveloped or sold off.

Another glance at the sign supported the theory.

Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.

The last time he'd read that had been just before his first year at Hogwarts - the summer of 1991.

A tug on his hand snapped Harry out of his idle musings. Fleur's expression may have appeared blank to those who didn't know her as well, but he'd studied it long enough to be more than familiar with it. Slightly-narrowed eyes and barely-pursed lips failed to conceal her nerves, and he wondered why she'd not said anything about it so far.

Her hand was warmer than usual, too.

Harry gave her a questioning glance as they stopped just before the door, but she shook her head and pushed it open.

As the door swung shut behind them, the noise of the crowds behind them abruptly disappeared, leaving them in silence. The seemingly infinite rows of shelves were poorly lit, concealing what had to be thousands of wands. From the outside of the store, it looked impossible to fit so much within.

Just as Harry began to wonder where the wandmaker was, Ollivander appeared from the gloom between the shelves.

The man said nothing at first, gazing at them with steepled fingers. Harry felt oddly small before the legendary wandmaker.

"I did not expect to see you here so soon, Mr Potter. Nor did I ever expect to see you here either, Miss Delacour. How may I be of service?"

"My wand broke," Harry replied hesitantly. "I need to get a new one."

He didn't know where he should even start.

Ollivander raised his eyebrows

"A pity," he said, glancing down. "Yet, it happens. Please enlighten me as to what brought about its end?"

"Can we talk in private?" Harry asked.

"I assure you that no one will be able to eavesdrop on us here," Ollivander replied with a small grin. "I'm sure all of my secrets would have been leaked by now, otherwise."

"Right, uh… it was Voldemort."

Harry seemed to have even caught Fleur off-guard with his blunt reply, as her hand tightened painfully on his for a moment.

"Now that is quite the statement," Ollivander stated. "Yet, I do not take you as the type to lie, Mr Potter. I presume it is somehow connected to the Triwizard Tournament?"

He nodded.

"Curious," Ollivander continued, "it makes one wonder what he wants with you. Regardless, I am glad that you escaped your encounter with him, and congratulate the both of you on your win."

"Thanks, but how did you know?" Harry asked.

"That is something I too would like to know," Fleur spoke.

Her firm tone surprised him. She didn't seem to be as trusting of the wandmaker

"I was sceptical of the brief description within the Prophet - they seem rather eager to forget about it. Not even an awards ceremony, hmm?"

Ollivander paced with his arms behind his back momentarily. He stopped, fixing his gaze back on Harry.

"They act as if it never happened. However, they were also eager to paint you as the wronged hero during the tournament. Britain's underdog, eh? Truly curious," he said, leaning against a shelf, "don't you think? Anyone else would make a great fuss over you being one of the winners."

"It doesn't make much sense at all," Harry agreed.

"In a roundabout way, it is the only way that makes sense," Ollivander continued. "I do not take this Ministry to be one to own up to its mistakes. Yet, all hope does not seem to be lost."

He looked towards Fleur.

"I believe your father should be aware of the situation with the ICW?"

"Yes, he is. It does not look good," she replied stiffly.

"Well, fortunately for us, the Minister is keeping his wits about him," Ollivander mused, staring off into space. "Well, that is enough political drivel for one day. Safe to say, I believe you, Mr Potter. We can only hope the rest catch on before it is too late."

"I'm glad you do," Harry began, "but I have a few questions."

Ollivander walked over to behind the counter and rested both arms on it, staring at him intently once more.

"What would you like to know?"

With help from Fleur, Harry summed up the multiple strange occurrences with his wand since the summer. The only part that he'd left out were the events at the World Cup. He didn't want it to become common knowledge.

By the end of their explanation, Ollivander appeared to be deeply in thought.

"Incredible…" he murmured. "Such a connection, I'm ashamed I didn't see it."

"Why is that?" Fleur asked. "Why did you not notice at the Weighing of the Wands?"

"It appears that whatever occurred before those ridges appeared for the first time caused a change in Mr Potter," Ollivander began. "A change significant enough to cause his wand to disagree with him. I have only seen it once before, and the wand destroyed itself shortly after. As for your question, it is perhaps because the wand was particularly receptive to its master's emotions. How did you feel at the Weighing of the Wands, Mr Potter?"

"I was pretty bored," Harry answered truthfully.

He saw Fleur smirking at him, and was glad that she seemed to have let her guard down a little bit.

"Well, there you go," Ollivander declared, sweeping his arms out wide. "I can't help but feel disappointed that I did not catch on, however. Likely, it would only react in such a way during periods of heightened emotions. Truly spectacular."

"So why did it break?" Harry asked, even though he already knew the answer.

"I couldn't tell you for certain unless I got a good look at it, but my guess would be a combination of the spell used and your emotional state at the time. Too much going on for it to handle, unfortunately. What you described there is something called Priori Incantatem, which may have done the job on top of everything else."

"I have heard of it, but wouldn't that mean…" Fleur stared at Harry.

"My wand had a feather from the same phoenix as Voldemort," Harry admitted. "They were brother wands."

"So that's why Voldemort's was destroyed too?" Fleur asked, looking back to Ollivander.

"It is not impossible. Everything has a limit," he said, "even my wands, though they are rarely reached."

"Speaking of wands, we should get you a new one, then," Ollivander continued. "I trust that you speak the truth, and therefore will replace yours free of charge."

Harry made to protest, but the wandmaker ignored him, retreating into the back of the store.

"Don't give up a little bit of good fortune, Harry," Fleur whispered in his ear.

He leant into the hand that was now resting on his back, gratified to have her with him. Looking out of the window, he could just see Sirius and Mr Delacour standing by the entrance of the store.

Ollivander returned a while later with multiple boxes.

"After your last visit here, I doubt this will work, but we may as well try," he said, placing them on the counter.

None of them reacted well to him. One even shattered the window beside the front door, causing Sirius to jump.

"Ah well, it was not meant to be," the wandmaker said.

"So what now?" Harry asked.

"You seem to be very picky with your wands, Mr Potter," he replied, closing up the slim boxes once more. "I shall bring out the raw materials for you."

Moments later, several long, stringy objects were laid out on a cloth before him. Harry leaned further over the counter to stare at them. He felt Fleur do the same over his shoulder, a rogue strand of hair tickling the nape of his neck.

They all seemed to glow with a life of their own.

"These are the most common wand cores we have," Ollivander explained. "Place your hand near them, and tell me if you feel anything."

Ghosting his hand over the cloth, he was dismayed to not feel anything.

I need a wand. Badly, he thought.

"Not a thing? How curious…" Ollivander trailed off, looking over his shoulder.

"What is it?" Harry asked, turning around slowly at feeling something warm on his neck.

His eyes immediately met Fleur's, not more than a few centimetres separating them.

"Take it," she whispered.

Harry was briefly confused until he caught sight of the strands of hair that he presumed had come into contact with his skin.

On the right side of her head, a singular strand appeared to be far more bright than the rest. Upon closer inspection, it looked to be lightly shimmering.

He reached up and gently took it between his forefinger and thumb. As soon as he touched it, warmth shot up his arm. Along with it came what was almost a buzzing sensation.

"Are you sure?" Harry asked quietly, meeting her gaze.

She nodded, and Harry thought her eyes looked a bit wet. He hoped it wasn't causing her pain.

The strand came loose with the slightest tug. He held it up closer to his face, marvelling at the bright silver colouring.

"Amazing."

Ollivander's voice brought his attention back to the wandmaker, who looked to Fleur.

"Would you permit me to use this in a wand, Miss Delacour?"

"You may," she replied.

"Then I shall return as soon as I can," he said, wrapping up the cloth.

Harry held out the strand of hair, and Ollivander conjured a tall glass tube for him to drop it into.

Just before he left, Harry spoke up again.

"Thanks, by the way. It means a lot."

The man gave him a quick grin.

"It is my pleasure, Mr Potter. I have not crafted a wand of this sort for decades."

And with that, he disappeared into the back of the store.

Fleur came up beside him immediately and rested her head on his shoulder. He drew her into his side instinctively.

"Was it okay?" Harry asked, looking down at her.

She nodded against him, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Fleur murmured. "I don't know what to say. It's wonderful."

"I'm glad, too. I didn't think my next wand would be able to live up to my first. Thank you," he whispered back.

He was startled when she pushed him off the counter and led him over to a small couch in the waiting area.

She sat, patting the space next to her impatiently. Raising an eyebrow, Harry took the spot next to her.

"Are you fine?" he asked again.

Fleur sighed.

"Harry… sometimes I wonder what goes on up here, hmm?" she mused, rapping her knuckles against the top of his head lightly.

So she wants to play this game, does she?

Taking her by surprise, he quickly lifted her underneath both arms and settled her on his lap. After a loud exclamation and a moment of protest, Fleur finally melted back into him. This time, her sigh was one of contentment.

He could barely rest his chin on her head, but he managed, keeping his arms around her.

"Rather bold of you, mon amour" Fleur spoke, and he could hear her grin in her voice. "Comfy?"

Harry only hummed into her hair in response.

"Nothing will ever be normal with you, will it?" she asked after a moment of silence.

"The odds don't look good so far," Harry answered. "But I'm not sure I'd change a thing."

"Oh? And why not?"

"Because of this," he replied, squeezing her around the waist.

With a deceptively strong burst of strength, she twisted around in his lap.

"A fair answer," Fleur whispered, staring back at him.

Up close, he swore he could see a sparkle in her perfect blue eyes.

"I don't think either of us is so ordinary," Harry replied quietly.

"Probably not," she agreed, tracing her thumb across his bottom lip with a far-away look. "A part-veela like me, and a famous wizard like you. Still, I would never complain about our unconventional relationship. I may have pushed you a little, but I couldn't help it. Sorry."

Fleur finished her sentence with a small giggle, suggesting that she was anything but apologetic.

"What a way with words you have."

"I'd prefer if sometimes you knew when to kiss me, Harry," she retorted.

He was unable to resist a shiver with the noticeable emphasis of her accent on his name. It was doubtful to him that he would ever tire of that slight French lilt.

"Love you too."

Her features immediately softened and formed a look he'd seen countless times by now.

As she descended on him, both of them forgot completely about Ollivander. Not to mention Sirius and Mr Delacour, who were both still standing just outside the door.

A/N

Apologies for the brief hiatus; was quite busy, many things to do coupled with a few other factors. This one is shorter than I would've liked, but I thought it important to finally get it out.

Life gets in the way.

Feel free to review/etc. & thanks for your patience.

Thank you also to reviewers & repeat reviewers :)