Grimmauld Place had a soothing effect on Harry. Or, better said, nowadays it had a soothing effect on Harry. Going to the Ministry was exhausting, even with Kingsley's considerations towards him. Hogwarts was better, the thrill of teaching Defense to the young first years was enjoyable, and even planning the lessons with Tonks was not as grating as it could have been. But returning each afternoon to the London house had a particular effect that couldn't be replicated anywhere else, and he was completely aware that it was because of Fleur.
She had transformed the depressing ambiance into an elegant one. The dark corridors now felt mysterious, the ancient furniture was now robust and proud. The oppressive ambiance turned to be cozy in certain areas and welcoming in others. How she did that was beyond him, because they hadn't made any major remodeling of the interior, just select and smart changes. The fact that she had done it while working full time at Gringotts was even more impressive.
As he entered the house, an unknown smell received him, which usually meant that Fleur was involved with today's dinner. She had been expanding Kreacher's culinary repertoire with French recipes, to Harry's amusement and Kreacher's pretended exasperation. Secretly, Fleur's proud attitude had made the old house elf fond of her, who had started to call her mistress when he thought no one could hear him.
As he entered the kitchen however, he stumbled into an unusual scene. Instead of the simple dish the two shared at night, there was an elegant arrangement of glasses, with wine served in that weird crystal thing Fleur insisted on buying. There was an elegant red mantle over which two plates, one with a quiche and one with an assortment of cheeses could be seen. The most unusual however, was Fleur's outfit. A green dress that hugged her torso like a glove, and skirt with a slit at thigh-height, allowing him to see a fair amount of skin.
Open-mouthed, Harry stared at his girlfriend, making a show about leering her outfit with a smile. The smile was returned, but there was a hesitancy in it that alarmed him. For all the ways you could describe Fleur Delacour, insecure was definitely not one of them.
"Is everything alright dear?"
A small voice answered. "Happy anniversary"
A shiver ran through Harry's back. When he had started his relationship with Fleur, he had asked every single male for advice, determined to not let this become another Cho situation. Advice from Arthur (surprisingly romantic), Kingsley (surprisingly effective in private), the twins (unsurprisingly silly and surprisingly effective) and Remus (sadly tame). However, the subject of important dates was a common one, and he had made an effort to remember Fleur's (and Gabrielle's) birthdays, the date of her promotion at Gringotts and so on. He should have remembered their anniversary.
And then, all pieces clicked, and it must have shown in his face because Fleur nodded, still unusually shy. They didn't have an anniversary date.
Like a lot of things during the war, they didn't plan to start a relationship. They became closer after the first real fight of the conflict. Harry had delivered stunners left and right, until he heard one of the death eaters mention what he wanted to do to Hermione, who was clutching a cut in her wand arm. Stunners turned to cutting curses, and there was a gap in Harry's memory between the first curse, and the death eater lying in a pool of blood.
Afterwards, Hermione and Ron insisted on talking things through, and the rest of the Order talked to Harry in different tones, ranging from proud to concerned. Everybody talked, only Fleur listened.
He poured his mind onto her. He told her about his guilt regarding killing a man (Jugson, apparently). He told her about his shame on losing control. He told her about his pleasure seeing the man's panic in his face, and the shame on said pleasure. Fleur listened. After that, she confessed, in an equally ashamed voice, that for her avian form, charred flesh smells good.
They kept talking, supporting each other as the war against Voldemort forced them to do growingly disturbing acts. When Rabastan Lestrange fell to Fleur's wand, she cried on Harry's shoulder after celebrating with the others. She comforted him when his Bombarda hit Amycus Carrow in the face, and they hugged each other after they teamed up to take down Bellatrix.
It was in those comfort sessions that they discovered that, while they weren't especially physical in their day to day lives (as much as fighting for their lives could be called that), they craved contact during sleep. They started to sleep together, embraced into each other during the cold winter nights. While there weren't any romantic or sexual interactions, the nights had a special kind of intimacy they couldn't find anywhere else. Some members of the Order assumed at this point that they were together, but no one did much about it. During war, love life and gossip tend to take a background spot.
Their first kiss was, like a lot of things, natural. They usually hugged each other, sometimes Harry would lie back, allowing Fleur to cuddle in his chest. Other times, Fleur would embrace him so that he would lay between her neck and her breast. Again, a more delicate intimacy than simply physical touch. That night however, both tried to cuddle into each other, so that they found themselves face to face. They stood like that for half an hour, looking into each other's eyes watching as both made peace with their own feelings. The kiss was delicate, almost ghost-like, and they embraced Morpheus with a whole new set of feelings to grasp.
As if triggering some universal event, the days after the kiss were chaotic. Snape barely managed to notify them before Voldemort's attack on the Ministry, and what looked to be the coup de grĂ¢ce in favor of the Death Eaters turned to be their biggest defeat when the Order reinforced Madame Bones and Rufus Scrimgeour in the defense of the Ministry. After that, Voldemort tried to regroup in Hogwarts, where some of the children of his followers tried to open the gates for him. However, the defeat at the Ministry left them in a bad spot, and they couldn't even summon a fourth of Slytherin to fight, the lesser of the house taking control with the support of some of the smartest purebloods like Greengrass or Bulstrode, who sensed the turning tides. When Voldemort arrived, McGonagall and Flitwick entertained him as the Castle dealt with his shattered forces.
After that, Riddle made a last desperate move to save face, and launched an attack into Diagon Alley, alone. Fiendfyre rained from the sky as the Dark Lord tried to summit magical Britain. The goblins, in a calculated move, gave refuge to the public into Gringotts, while aurors and the Order arrived to face the dark wizard. Several died on that last day of the war, but in the end, between Amelia, Snape, Moody and Kingsley, Riddle was overwhelmed, and Harry killed him with a cutting curse to the nape. A dishonorable death, for a dishonorable foe.
The chaos brought death, pain and destruction, and the reparation works started immediately. Between the fights and the aftermath, their first kiss went by.
After that, Fleur and Harry's relationship kept growing. It was natural when Harry introduced her as his girlfriend to the Ministry and then the press. It was natural when Fleur moved to Grimmauld. It was natural when the shared intimacy of their nights turned to be a different kind of intimacy. But there was still no date.
Back to the present, Harry gave her a cheeky smile. "Our anniversary, you say?"
Fleur blushed pink, as she looked to the dinner table. "I don't know. I think we kissed three days before the attack on the Ministry, but no one knows because they think we started dating before, and we never talked about it so it's not like I can use another date. And we kissed at night, so I'm not even sure if it was that day or the day before, because I didn't check a clock and-"
"Dear!"
Fleur jumped, and Harry embraced her delicately. "Thank you"
She buried her face in his neck, the height difference only slightly in his favor. Despite how adorable she looked; Harry preferred assured-Fleur over this nervous iteration of his girlfriend. "Our anniversary it is"
It was easy to point out the big things the war took with it. Gringotts left the Fiendfyre marks in their otherwise pristine walls. Flitwick now used a cane. Rufus had a brutal scar in the left side of his face. The Leaky Cauldron was only a shell, the muggle side barely hidden. Those were the big scars, the ones that hurt. However, the lack of an official date to start a relationship was also a scar. A small one, that seemed irrelevant until you pointed it out. One that didn't let you advance until you acknowledged it. One of many they suffered. And one that, like all the others, big or small, was finally healing.
Quickly changing his robes into trousers and a green shirt, Harry added a waistcoat, mainly because Fleur's eyes darkened when he wore one. As they dined, Harry regarded Fleur. Her small smile, her little joy when it was time for desserts. The small sniff she gave before each sip of wine. Harry would curse himself before letting this night be his only anniversary with Fleur.
AN1: My submission for the Anniversary Collection from the Flowerpot server. You may join if you want. I still don't know how discord works, so the link may be part of the journey.
AN2: Many thanks to the beta-readers in the server, ensuring that this wasn't absolutely boring.
