Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Chapter 14 - A Girl of a Different Kind

Harry sat with his back against the trunk of a thick tree, eyes closed and a faint smile on his face. He seemed more relaxed these days, and Fleur was glad to see the change in him from a few months prior. Sunlight streamed through the edge of the tree canopy overhead, catching a few strands of his jet-black hair. They glittered like the rippling waters of the Black Lake, which lapped at the gravelly bank not far from where he sat. Britain didn't seem so bad to Fleur when the weather was like this.

The first week of June saw the weather clear up even more as summer rolled in, and Fleur couldn't remember the last time she'd seen a grey cloud. The distant mountains were clearer than ever, adding another layer to the scenery when one looked northwards.

She was about to continue her walk along the shoreline toward Harry when a fluttering of wings came from overhead. Fleur halted her approach, hand already on her wand. A barn owl skimmed the edge of the canopy, the brown blur flying directly over the top of her and spiralling down to him. Harry opened his eyes, slightly startled. She noticed an envelope tied to one of the owl's legs.

Fleur trod on a patch of dry leaves, alerting him to her presence. An exuberant expression lit up his features as he saw her, his hands still fiddling with the letter. Harry averted his gaze to concentrate on undoing the knot. The owl flew off once he'd loosened it and he slipped the parchment out of the envelope. When Harry didn't look back up, Fleur knelt next to him and waited for him to finish reading.

"Anything important?" she prodded gently.

Harry stared at her for a good few seconds, then dropped the parchment to the grass beside him and pulled her into his arms.

"It's Sirius!" he exclaimed into her hair. "He finally replied!"

She thought she had an inkling as to why a reply had finally come. Her father had been outraged at the lack of support Harry'd received during the tournament, and the Delacours took family quite seriously. Mr Delacour was not one to give up, either.

"What did he say?" she asked, unable to resist the contagious excitement that radiated from him.

Harry pulled back slightly, one hand leaving her waist to pick up the parchment. He reached behind himself and nudged her hands with it, returning to his previous position once she'd taken the letter. Fleur rested her chin on his shoulder as she read the untidy scrawl behind his back.

Harry,

I'm sorry. I've failed you once again, and there isn't an excuse I should give - it's ultimately my fault and I won't blame anyone but myself. I just hope you'll hear me out.

There has been much talk of disturbing events in Europe, most recently throughout Albania and Croatia. I'm also beginning to hear rumours from France. I saw that you were in the Triwizard Tournament from a local tabloid heading here, but I had no clue you'd been entered against your will. We'll also need to do something about those friends of yours if what Mr Delacour wrote is correct. If you're willing, that is.

I'm unable to fathom how he was able to reach me this far away, but I more than deserved the strong words he wrote to me. He must've been able to set something up with the ICW's international owl post service. He did also mention that someone had sabotaged his first attempt - please, please keep your eyes peeled. A fairly powerful member of the ICW must've not wanted the letter to reach me, and now knows of your relation to me (if they are half competent).

Regardless, I am hopefully on my way back to England as you read this. I can only pray that you manage to forgive me enough to let me help you. Things are worse than they appear, and chances are that you're involved - I'll explain more in person, it is too delicate of a subject to put in a letter.

I'm also curious as to what your relation to Mr Delacour is. The man wields a highly respectable reputation and an impressive position. Though, my only priority is your safety. Please don't feel pressured, I've done nothing to earn your trust. Stay safe, Harry.

- S

She let go of the letter and tightened her hold on him. Whilst Fleur was happy for Harry, she also had a thousand thoughts swirling in her head, one of them being a hard determination to give Sirius a fair chance. It would be incredibly cruel to deny Harry any sort of relationship with the last opportunity at a parental figure he had, and she cursed those involved in Sirius' false conviction.

"What do you think he means?" Fleur asked quietly, lifting her head, "What are you involved in?"

Harry shifted slightly.

"I don't know," he replied. "Somehow everything seems to find me though."

Fleur thought back to his description of the first three years he'd spent at this school, and couldn't help but agree.

"We'll need to figure out why that is, but don't worry, we'll get through it," she murmured in his ear. "I hope your godfather can get here soon."

"It's incredible," Harry whispered back. "He's going to be here. I just hope he doesn't get caught."

"Everything works out eventually," she reassured, hoping she wouldn't regret her words. "He'll be fine, he's made it this far."

"How did your father manage to contact him?" he questioned. "Why would he even do something like that for me?"

She sighed, threading a hand up into the back of his hair.

"You need to understand that my parents are supportive of me, and therefore supportive of you," Fleur explained. "They like you, and will do what they can to lighten the burdens you carry."

As much as she'd explained it to him, she figured it would be difficult for him to realise that her parents did care. They'd had to leave in a hurry after the second task, and Harry had taken it personally until Fleur had explained the circumstances around her father's work with the ICW. He held a senior position in the French office, with much of his position dependent on travel.

She felt him tilt his head to the side, resting his cheek on her shoulder.

"Wow," he breathed. "That's… incredible. I'll have to thank them."

"You can do that when you see them in the summer," Fleur teased. "If you think I will go for months without seeing you, you are mistaken."

"I don't think my relatives would approve," Harry protested weakly. "That'd be an awful lot of effort."

"If they are as terrible as I think they are, I will not consider what they want," she scoffed. "As much as I don't want to interfere in your personal life too much, I'll have a hard time liking them."

He went quiet, and the silence lengthened. Just when she was beginning to worry, he spoke again.

"Fleur, can I ask you something?"

"Yes, you may," she replied, confused by his sudden reticence.

"Do you have many friends?" he asked.

The question stumped her, causing some discomfort to creep in. It wasn't something they'd discussed before - most of the time she'd been focused on helping Harry, and she preferred it that way, too.

"Not really," Fleur began carefully. "I'm closest to my sister."

"Are they back at Beauxbatons?" Harry prodded.

"Well, yes," she admitted, "but I only have one. Her name is Aimée."

"Aimée," Harry repeated, butchering the pronunciation.

She couldn't help but laugh at hearing how he pronounced her friend's name. Pulling back, Fleur grinned at seeing his look of mock offence.

"Don't worry," she crooned amusedly, squeezing his shoulders with both hands. "I'm sure she will let you call her Amy."

"That's good then," Harry started. "Do you have any others?"

Her mood sunk a little.

"No, not really," she said. "The other girls never really liked me, but I am cordial with a few."

"Is it because of who you are?" he asked. "Do they look down on you?"

"Partially," she admitted, "it's always going to be difficult for a part-Veela to make friends, but it depends on how much Veela ancestry they have. If it's enough for them to have an allure, others will grow envious and bitter. Without the allure, it would be easier, as they wouldn't need to grow jealous of 'having their boyfriends stolen' or something silly."

Fleur was touched by his sympathetic expression. He would know all about preconceptions and judgements, with Fleur having seen her fair share of his gawpers. On the other end of the spectrum, she'd also seen a few of the dark looks directed his way by classmates.

"That's horrible. Why is it like this?" he asked.

She couldn't help but smile at him fondly, a mischievous thought forming. Making up her mind, she turned around in her seated position and fell back into Harry, making him gasp as she collided with him. Fleur slid down a little further until her head was just beneath his chin, the warmth of his body luxurious.

Luckily for her, he'd had a little bit of a growth spurt in the past months, and now nearly matched her height. Fleur had also seen the looks of a few Hogwarts girls, and couldn't help but feel a bit smug that she'd beat them to him. It wasn't anything extreme, but they were beginning to notice what she had seen in him from the beginning. Maybe they'll not treat him like rubbish at least, Fleur thought.

"It's because not everyone is like you," she said, placing a hand on the thigh that was sprawled out beside her. "Wizarding culture revolves around the blood you are born with and your family name. It is very medieval and equally ruthless."

"Well, I grew up with muggles, so I wouldn't have a clue," Harry admitted, his arms winding around her. "All I know is that my mum was a muggle-born and my dad was a pureblood."

"That is not a bad thing, Harry," Fleur replied. "Neither of them are. I'm sure your mother was a lovely woman, and your father must've been very liberal due to his choice of wife. The Potters are an old pureblood family, and there would've been outrage when he got married to your mother."

"They can all get stuffed," Harry huffed. "I couldn't care less anymore. They already like to make up stories - you know what my classmates think of me. If I hadn't cared so much at the start, it would've been so much easier to deal with."

"I do not think it is so much like that anymore," she said, snuggling into him a little deeper. "You overestimate public opinion. Most people forget about these things quickly, and I can tell that your classmates are not nearly as spiteful as they were at the start of the tournament. Maybe the stabilisation of your soul plays a part - you'll also need to visit so that my parents can have a further look, and see your wandmaker."

Harry dropped an arm from its position around her waist, pulling at the ground next to her and fiddling with a blade of grass.

"It worries me still," he admitted, "not knowing what's going on with my soul. I think it's fine, I feel better than ever, but I don't know what to do about these dreams."

He'd not had any as vivid as the one two weeks ago, but there were still a few disturbing occasions Harry had mentioned to her as they studied privately on Hogwarts' fourth floor. Fleur had been stunned by his ability to cast the killing curse wordlessly, but she encouraged any additions to his arsenal that would help him out in a spot of trouble. Harry wasn't using it for any malicious purpose, and after hearing the story of his godfather she had little regard for wizarding laws. As long as her father's position in the ICW wasn't at risk as a result, she didn't feel it was any cause for concern. It would be incredibly difficult for anyone to prosecute Harry as long as they remained vigilant. To her, the risk was worth the reward.

"You've made it this far. Do you feel any different?" she asked.

"It's not something I noticed at the start, but I feel like I'm more sensitive to magic. It feels a little different when I cast a spell now, compared to last year," Harry said, resting his chin on top of her chin as he finished speaking.

"I'm not sure what to make of that," Fleur replied, "it must be a side-effect of the merge. As frustrating as it is to not have definitive answers for these things, if they benefit you then we might as well make the most of it. Nothing of this exact nature has ever been recorded before, so there is nowhere to find the answers we seek."

"Yeah, it sucks, but at the same time it's sort of cool," Harry said.

She could hear him smiling as he spoke, and his attitude endeared him further to her.

"Cool?" Fleur questioned, smirking to herself.

"No one else knows about it except for your parents. I'm so used to having everyone know everything about me, it's nice to have something just for myself," he explained.

"That is… certainly a unique way of thinking about it," she said.

"If I told others the truth, they'd think I'm mad anyway."

She couldn't disagree.


"So, are you two ready for the last task of the tournament?" Ginny asked.

"Yeah, I think we are. We've been practising enough to handle anything they throw at us," Harry answered confidently for the both of them.

A comfortable silence settled as they finished off their meals.

"It's much better down here," Ginny said around her last mouthful of potatoes.

"I have to agree," Fleur said from next to him, swirling the red wine in her glass, "it's nice to not have to worry about others staring."

Harry had invited Fleur to have dinner in the castle's kitchens rather than the Great Hall, and she'd suggested inviting Ginny too. Fleur hadn't been very impressed when he'd given his reason for avoiding Ginny since they'd seen her arguing with her brother. The redhead had given him quite the tongue-lashing when Harry admitted it to her. At Fleur's prompting, of course.

Ginny had torn his reasoning to shreds, and a letter the following week from Arthur had reassured him that he was always welcome in the Weasley household. They'd had less success with Ron, though. His stubborn nature was proving too difficult to overcome. Ginny had also encouraged him to not give up on Hermione, but he was finding that hard to believe.

"I'm glad you like it. We might have to come here more often," Harry commented.

"As long as you don't think you have to ignore me," Ginny snarked.

Harry sighed.

"I know, it was stupid, I'm sorry," he replied just as he'd cleared his plate.

"It's okay, I forgive you. As long as you don't do it again, you prat," she warned, narrowing her eyes at him.

Fleur failed at stifling a laugh, spraying Harry with the wine she'd just tried to drink.

He wiped at his eyes, shooting a baleful glare toward the two as Ginny joined in the laughter.

"Oh well," Ginny managed, out of breath, "I'll leave you two to it."

"Goodnight, Ginny. I think Fleur's had a bit too much," Harry said, with Fleur still laughing herself silly next to him.

"It's only a few minutes before curfew. Don't go taking advantage of her now," she admonished, smirking as she left.

Harry was certain his face now matched the colour of the wine Fleur had managed to procure from a few of the elves, who'd given them a small table off to the side of the kitchens to sit. As she was now of age, she'd taken a liking to wine. He'd declined a taste whenever she offered it to him though, which he was teased continually about.

"Alright, we should probably get you back, hey?" he asked lightly, amused at this new side of her. He'd never seen her so inebriated before - she must've been unaware of just how much she'd had.

Fleur mumbled something, resting her head on the table. Harry was completely out of his depth, he had no clue how to deal with the situation. Coming to a decision, he got up from his chair and delicately pulled Fleur's out. He kept a hand on her shoulder so that she wouldn't slump forward onto the ground, and positioned himself in front of her.

Turning her sideways on the chair, he slid one arm under her knees, with the other below her mid-back. Heaving, he managed to pick her up in a bridal carry. She was lighter than he'd expected, but the few stairs up to the entrance proved to be a struggle. Harry pushed the painting outwards, staggering into the corridor and hurriedly readjusting his grip on Fleur. She'd put her head on his chest, murmuring something else indecipherable. After a few minutes of walking through the castle, his arms were beginning to burn. Curfew had almost certainly passed, though, so Harry couldn't stop now.

Spying a small door that was slightly ajar, Harry pushed it open with his foot and stepped inside. The sight of a plush couch was an immense relief to him, and he closed the door behind him before staggering forward and depositing Fleur on the couch as gently as he could. It wouldn't be a bad idea to wait for her to sober up a little before continuing onwards. He cursed himself for not having his invisibility cloak on him - previously, he'd not gone anywhere without it.

Harry locked the door with his wand and sat down sideways on the couch next to Fleur, who'd curled up in the corner. The room itself was also small, the other main furnishings being a plush rug beneath the couch and a desk. Inanimate paintings covered the walls, mostly showing scenery and landscapes.

A jostle from next to him caught his attention, and he was suddenly pulled down, his glasses being ripped off. A silvery blur hovered over him, coming into focus as she leaned down and pecked him on the nose, before finding his lips with hers. He got his first taste of the wine as she lingered above him, not finding it to be as bad as he'd thought it might be. Her hands slipped under his shirt, causing Harry to shiver involuntarily as they ghosted over his bare skin before making contact.

She stilled and drew back a moment later, looking at him carefully. Her eyes were much more focused than earlier.

"Harry," Fleur whispered, "can I lift your shirt for a moment?"

He nodded uncertainly, wondering what had caused such a sudden shift in her demeanour.

She unbuttoned his robes, and then pushed up his crisp white button-up. He heard her gasp and stifled the urge to shiver again as her finger traced over his ribcage.

"Is this… what I think it is?" she asked, looking him in the eye again, and then to his forehead.

"What is it?" Harry questioned in return, beginning to worry at how quickly she'd sobered up.

"Look," she murmured. "It looks just like the scar on your forehead."

He craned his neck awkwardly to look down at where her finger rested, just beneath a faint, jagged pink line. Sure enough, it had the same shape as the one on his forehead, but it already looked quite faded.

"Is that from the Killing Curse?" he asked.

"I can only guess it is," Fleur whispered, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know what I would've done if you didn't survive."

"Yeah, it would've sucked for me too, I reckon," Harry replied, a smile threatening to form.

"Why do you have such a bizarre sense of humour, mon coeur?" she asked, grinning brightly back at him.

He had the familiar feeling that he was about to be devoured if the slightly avian look in her eyes was any indicator. It was incredibly difficult to not sink into those deep blue orbs, but he managed to resist. However, he only lasted until she pressed herself against him once more, and then he was overwhelmed by her rosy scent and the taste of red wine.


A/N

Having been a bit busy, I didn't have very long to write this one. Hopefully the quality hasn't been affected. Thanks for your continued reviews.