Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns everything.

Chapter 15 - Think I Can Fly

Harry awoke to a still room, a sliver of early dawn light shining through a small, circular window directly onto his position on the couch. With a start, he realised there was a warm, soft body sprawled almost entirely on top of him, a silver head just below his chin. A delicate, small hand was fisted in his shirt. It rested on his sternum, a hair's breadth from her face. The other arm wrapped around his neck, hand cupping his shoulder.

He watched her for a long moment. The weak ray of light had begun to slowly make its way up her cheek, causing her to stir. Fleur mumbled something indecipherable into his button-up shirt, snuggling in deeper if that was at all possible. Her head tilted up, eyelids revealing bottomless blue irises that immediately fixed on his.

A look of realisation crossed her features, the corners of her eyes crinkling.

"Hello… mon amour," she purred.

"Good morning," he replied, unable to resist beaming back at her.

Harry slowly extracted the arm he'd lost all feeling in from underneath her, against her muted protests, which ceased when he wrapped it around her.

"So this was your plan all along?" Fleur questioned amusedly.

"Plan?" Harry responded, trailing his hand up between her shoulder blades.

"You get the Veela in bed…"

He managed to fight off the embarrassment quite quickly, a bold idea coming to him.

"I hate to disappoint you, ma chérie, but this is not a bed," he stated. "Did you have other plans?"

She was the one to flush this time.

"Where did you learn that?" Fleur murmured, hiding her face against his chest again.

Harry had picked it up over a brief skim through some French literature in the library, not that he'd tell her that though. He took note to find some more phrases.

"It wouldn't be any fun if I told you, would it?" he questioned in return.

"Maybe it would," she challenged, looking back up and cocking an eyebrow at him.

Trying to ignore the reaction it provoked within him, Harry swiftly thought up a response.

"What would your friend at Beauxbatons think of such impure intentions, Fleur?"

"She would most likely encourage it," Fleur said, sniffing at him mockingly.

Harry smiled at her, greatly enjoying their verbal sparring, even more so as she hadn't moved at all. His hand roamed over her shoulder blade, where it stilled as he thought he felt a faint contour.

Her eyes met his as Harry's fingers lightly probed at the spot, his curiosity written all over his face.

"What is this?" he asked quietly. "A scar?"

Fleur shook her head.

You truly don't know?" she asked delicately.

"No. Should I?"

"I guess not," she replied, sighing. "It is where a Veela's wings come from."

"You have wings?" Harry questioned, doing his best to probe gently.

"Would you think of me any differently?" she countered softly, tilting his chin down.

He briefly hated himself for the hint of vulnerability that had surfaced in her expression.

"No, of course not. I just don't know these things and I'm curious. It'd be pretty cool if you did," he said, fondly remembering his love of flying.

Fleur looked at him for a long moment, apparently finding whatever she needed to continue and letting her hand drift up his cheek.

"I do not know how much of a Veela I am. I would need to be, at the very least, a half-Veela by blood to have them. A test to find out how much Veela blood one has does not exist, we just have to wait and see," she explained.

"Do you think you'll get them eventually?" Harry asked hopefully.

"I would not have expected you to be so eager," Fleur replied, smiling fondly at him.

"Flying has always been one of my favourite things," he admitted, "although I haven't gotten around to it at all this year unless you count the first task. My mind's been elsewhere."

"That is understandable," she replied honestly. "I do not know if I will have any come through. If they will, it should be within the next year or so - it happens after we come of age, usually."

"Will it hurt?" Harry questioned.

"No, no it will not. It is apparently painless for us."

"That's good then. Are there any other Veela traits I should be aware of?" he asked, his hand finding a similar contour on her opposing shoulder blade.

"I will leave that for you to figure out," Fleur replied, a mischievous smile forming. "Although I will let you know one thing."

"What is it?" Harry responded.

"You had better not forget, as I will only tell you this one time," she warned, the vulnerability from earlier resurfacing. "A Veela becomes emotionally attached in a way that humans could never understand."

Harry hadn't meant for her to be so forthcoming but welcomed her openness. It had given him the sudden urge to spill everything out to her, but his ingrained nature prevented him from doing so then.

"I won't," he promised, pondering just what she had meant by that.


The next Friday afternoon found Harry in Transfiguration. Once again, he'd taken a seat near the back of the class, missing the former regularity of his class timetable. Hermione's eyes had widened when she'd noticed him whilst McGonagall introduced the day's topic to the class, which centred around transformation spells. Truthfully, Harry hadn't paid much attention, having already covered most of the year's curriculum in his own time during the first few months of the term. When you didn't have friends, there was nothing else to do.

Unrestricted access to the library and not being forced to attend classes meant that Harry had been able to dedicate all of his time to private study, and he'd found it far from boring. Magic continually fascinated him. Doing it in his own time allowed him to get through the content at a steadier pace, not having to deal with repetitive homework or lengthy professor explanations. Harry took as much time as he needed to understand a topic and perfect the spellwork.

He'd also noticed that throughout the year, the magic seemed to flow through him with greater intensity. He could only guess that it stemmed from the same root cause as whatever was happening with his wand.

A slip of parchment flittered onto his desk, pulling him out of his thoughts. Harry carefully picked it up to read it.

Can we please talk after class?

The lack of a name left him guessing, but only momentarily. He caught a pair of eyes staring at him from across the classroom, and gave her a gentle nod. Hermione perked up at seeing his answer and went back to trying to turn the hedgehog that had just landed on her desk into a pincushion.

It was at that point that a hedgehog was deposited on his desk. His wand snapped out and he froze it without a second thought before it made its escape. Looking up, he saw that multiple classmates had been caught completely unaware and were now chasing the terrified animals underneath the desks. Thankfully the chaos was temporary. McGonagall summoned the hedgehogs to the front of the classroom, causing a series of groans to break out as multiple of Harry's classmates received detentions.

Harry sat still for a moment, ignoring his frozen hedgehog and watching as others began to create all sorts of spiny abominations. A sharp clacking of boots against the stone floor brought his attention to the stern professor, who stopped before his desk.

"Well, was I unclear?" she questioned, an eyebrow arched. "Go on."

He thought of the incantation, traced the wand movement and suddenly a black and white pincushion sat on his desk. A forest of black sewing pins protruded from the plush fabric. McGonagall's eyebrows rose into her hairline, with her just giving him a nod and moving on to the next student without another word.

Catching some of the dark looks those around him directed his way, he decided he didn't want much more to do with his classmates. It'd been a mistake to attend class again, as much as he'd missed learning in such an environment.

Once the end of class had finally rolled around, Harry eagerly got out of his seat and left the classroom well before everyone else, keen to get away from the probing stares of others. His wait for Hermione was a rather lengthy one, as she was the last to leave. He leant sideways against the wall, crossing his arms and meeting her eyes again.

"Hello, Hermione," he greeted with a tight smile.

Harry was oddly smug at the fact that he nearly towered over her now, his growth spurt having done wonders for his height.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Everyone was spreading rumours, and I fell for them. Ron was jealous, too, and still is, but I don't think you put your name in anymore.."

Harry let her speak, not feeling inclined to interrupt or send a scathing retort her way. He was beyond that stage.

"That's great and all, but it's a bit late, don't you think? It's nearly the end of the school year."

"I know. I'd understand. Do you want to maybe talk sometime?" Hermione asked.

Examing her, he felt a stab of guilt at the deep sadness that seemed to linger in her gaze. Almost reluctantly, he made his choice.

"It's okay. No one else has directly apologised to me like that. I'll forgive you now, but it won't be how it was before," he warned.

Her expression wilted slightly at that. Nonetheless, she gave him a genuine smile.

"Thanks, Harry. I'm really sorry, and hopefully one day I can make it up to you. If you need anything, just ask."

"Sure. See you," he said.

Harry thought hard as he walked towards the fourth floor once again.

It did feel like he'd made the right call, and he hoped he wouldn't regret it. Whilst he would forgive, it wouldn't be easy to forget what she'd done. To an extent, Harry couldn't blame her for being swept up in what the rest of the school thought, on top of being repulsed by him at the start of the year. It seemed that had slowly faded, however, and now the hatred towards him was genuine. Hermione had still avoided him, on top of cursing him in the back.

Some part of him wished she would try it now. Ever since the incident, Harry had resolved to not be caught unaware and humiliated in such a way. It was an elementary error, to not keep aware of his surroundings.

Maybe I should go back to the Defence Against the Dark Arts class. Moody will love me now, he thought.


"What do you mean, the Imperious Curse did not affect you?" she exclaimed, glaring at Harry. "Why did you not tell me this earlier?"

He gave a sheepish grin and a shrug.

"I forgot."

She let out an exasperated sigh, forcing herself to remember just who it was she was talking to. Harry was getting better, but there were still moments that revealed the impact of his past life. With none to care, he didn't have much of a reason to share or remember these things.

Taking her hand away from her face, Fleur looked back to Harry as they walked through the grounds. Sirius had reportedly arrived and had sent a letter informing Harry yesterday afternoon to meet him just outside of Hogsmeade that Saturday, which was, fortunately, a Hogsmeade weekend. Not that either of them had participated in one thus far, preferring their sanctuary over the gawkers.

They'd agreed that she would accompany Harry, but would remain under the invisibility cloak until they were sure he was who he said he was. Fleur wouldn't trust a man who she hadn't met before, let alone one that was on the run and had been absent for a good while.

"I will add it to the list of things to ask Maman. Is there anything else you have forgotten to mention?" she asked, unable to resist smiling by the end of her question.

"No, that's it," Harry responded, squeezing her hand. "The dreams are less frequent too."

They continued their walk, and Fleur enjoyed the sudden but not uncomfortable silence that had settled. Harry's presence was more than enough for her. It was almost like some subconscious part of her mind was able to sense him - Fleur was sure she felt him whenever he was near her. Her eyes were immediately drawn to him in every room, and her head would swivel around at his approach, even if she heard nothing.

Her mother had delicately explained to Fleur before her first year at Beauxbatons that more of her traits would manifest once she'd found a 'potential mate'. Fleur'd been left fiercely blushing at that, her 10-year-old self unable to entertain the notion that such a thing would ever happen. Evidently, her heritage would be more prominent than her parents had expected, and she wasn't yet sure how to feel about it. She'd previously chalked up her actions at the Quidditch World Cup to a freak accident, though one that was very welcome considering the circumstances.

There weren't any other Veela in France that she knew of, asides from her mother and grandmother, who hadn't had contact with other Veela for decades. She'd been warned some aspects may come as a surprise - what was written in the books did not always ring true for all Veela. Judging by the glazed eyes of most of the Beauxbatons boys, they hadn't had any contact with Veela either. She could add the Hogwarts and Durmstrang populations to that tally now, having regrettably expected better from the latter due to their choice of World Cup mascot.

Fleur desperately hoped that Harry would be okay with whatever happened.

"Is this where we are meant to be?" she asked him, coming to a stop just outside the village.

"Quick, under the cloak," Harry whispered back, stuffing it in her hands.

Fleur found her way beneath the cloak just as a shaggy black dog trotted around the corner of a building, stalling for a moment as it caught sight of Harry. Slipping her wand out noiselessly, Fleur cast a silencing spell around her feet, making no move to sheath it once she'd done so.

She held her breath as it slowly approached, ears alert and yellow eyes fixed on him. The dog did not seem to notice her as it broke into a trot, tongue lolling from its mouth. It looked near-identical to the Grim illustrations Fleur had seen in her textbooks.

Harry held out a hand to it, which the dog ignored and pounced on his chest. The only thing that stopped her from cursing it was Harry's laugh as he struggled to remain upright with the huge creature leaning against him. The sight gradually brought a smile to her lips. Hugging it, Harry gave the dog one last pat and nudged it off gently. Of course, Harry had explained that Sirius was an animagus, but the size of it unsettled her nonetheless.

The dog turned and flicked its tail, looking behind expectantly. Fleur traced Harry's steps as he began to follow the dog, hoping the other students in the village would be too preoccupied to look up the nearby hill that they were beginning to ascend.

Fortunately, the trail they were following looped around to the other side of the hill, obscuring the village from view. She was beginning to feel her nerves after what must've been around ten minutes of walking, the base of her wand starting to feel somewhat slick in her palm.

Harry abruptly stopped as the dog leapt up a rock and into a dark opening. Fleur walked up behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder briefly to remind him of her presence. His eyes flicked toward her before he followed the path the dog had taken, clambering up the rock to the cave opening.

He looked into the darkness for a long moment, before carefully holding his hand out below him to her. Whilst she was frustrated at the potential for her cover to be blown, the gesture was so typical of him that she couldn't help but accept it with a grin on her face.

Allowing him to hoist her up, Fleur stopped just beside the entrance to ensure the cloak was covering her. A gust of cool air made her shiver as she followed Harry into the darkness.

Her eyes slowly adjusted to the gloom. Sat on the floor in the back of the cave was a tall, lanky man with long, black hair. He didn't appear as haggard as she would've expected, and his skin even carried a hint of a tan. The dark eyes told a different story, however.

Fleur manoeuvred herself next to Harry as he sat. Her wand was still firmly clasped in her right hand.

"How did you get so damn tall, kiddo?" Sirius asked. "Even James wasn't like that at what? Fourteen?"

"Yeah, fourteen," Harry replied, scratching the back of his head. "I guess I just got lucky this year."

Sirius' eyes lit up, smirking at him.

"Got lucky, huh? Who with?"

Fleur smothered a laugh as she saw Harry place his head in his hands, groaning. Sirius sniggered loudly.

"Not like that, you sick man," he replied, "Although…"

She took that as her cue to remove the cloak.

Sirius' gaze momentarily went blank as he saw Fleur, shaking his head as the glaze faded from his eyes.

"So… what does this mean, eh, Harry?" Sirius asked, seemingly still recovering.

Harry looked at her, and she gave an encouraging nod.

"This is Fleur Delacour, my lovely French girlfriend," he answered, with a grin shot her way.

She couldn't help but match his expression.

"Oh, have I been promoted? Both lovely and French, hmm?" Fleur said, beaming at Harry.

"Always," he replied, not forgetting to give her a confident grin.

It was a new side to him, but one that Fleur was greatly enjoying.

"It's lovely to meet you then, Miss Delacour. I'll have to thank you for being there for Harry all year. I'm Sirius Black. I suspect Harry has already explained my backstory for you to be here?."

"He has," she confirmed, "It is nice to meet you too. I would like to hear what you have been up to."

Her tone was friendly enough, but Sirius seemed to catch on to her cool undertone. His eyes flicked over the wand grasped in her hand.

"Yes, you are owed that much at the very least," he started, suddenly becoming quite solemn. "As you read in my letter, things are not looking good throughout Europe, although much of the ICW is eager to bury their heads in the sand, or so I'm told. I originally went to Sicily to lay low for a while during the Summer."

He paused, giving Harry a long look.

"I'm not sure if he'd want me to tell you, but I'll tell you anyway," Sirius muttered. "Dumbledore told me to keep an eye out because one of his sources informed him that some of the Giant population had started to move westward across Europe as early as November. Increased vampire activity was reported in Croatia, and a string of wizarding murders also made the muggle news in Albania where the victims appeared completely untouched. It would've almost certainly been the Killing Curse."

"Why would Dumbledore want you to keep an eye out? Does he know why?" Harry asked, voicing the same question she had.

"Do you know what the Order of the Phoenix is?" Sirius questioned.

Harry shook his head

"It's an informal organisation created during the First Wizarding War to resist Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Dumbledore's been reaching out to a few of the old members. The reason why he suddenly has an interest in the Order again - which was disbanded in late 1981 - has not been made known to me."

"There is an awful lot of unknowns here," Fleur interrupted, "Is there any reason he keeps you in the dark?"

"Dumbledore's always kept his cards close to his chest," Sirius answered, sighing. "I'm afraid I don't know why, but he's not led me wrong in the past. We didn't tell him we switched secret keepers when your parents were in hiding, and I've forever regretted that. I'm sorry, Harry."

"It's alright," Harry said, "it's not your fault. You were doing what you thought would be best."

Fleur admired Harry's forgiving nature more and more every time. She didn't think she would be able to do the same in his position, but it was his decision and she would support it. She put her wand back in her pocket and placed her hand on Harry's knee.

"Thanks, Harry. That means a lot, but I'll regret it until the day I die," Sirius replied. "The best guess I can make is that it relates to Voldemort. The one piece of information Dumbledore did share with me before I left is that he believes Voldemort did not die that night, and from what Sebastien told me there is more to prove than disprove that theory at the moment."

Giving Harry another significant look, he continued.

"Dumbledore did not want me to return to Britain. He didn't think it would be safe, or useful. To be frank, I don't give a damn - you're here, and that's what matters. It all seems to point to you, and the whole tournament situation doesn't help either."

"Do you know who might have tried to sabotage the letter from reaching you?" Fleur asked.

"No, I'm not sure who that might be. Your father is reportedly probing a little, although he does not want to draw attention to himself, being unaware of their intentions. He is a smart man," he complimented.

She gave him a nod and a small smile. Whilst Fleur hadn't warmed to him immediately, her anger at his absence from Harry's life had mostly faded at seeing just how regretful he was.

"Did you get my letters?" Harry asked.

"I got one of them during summer, which I tried to reply to by sneaking it into a wizarding post office. Afterwards, I was in Sicily, and that might just be outside of the range of magical owls. It wasn't something I'd realised, and I'm sorry. I'll never let it happen again."

"That's okay, as long as you're here now," Harry responded, although he seemed a little uncomfortable at the profuse apologising.

Not wanting him to be overwhelmed, Fleur opted to wrap up their meeting, seeing as it was getting late. She gave him a squeeze and what she hoped was a questioning look.

At his nod, she turned back to Sirius.

"Thank you for taking the time to meet us, Mr Black. Where will you be staying?"

"I'll find somewhere close. At least until the end of the tournament - I don't want to leave Harry again, especially when he needs support," Sirius said.

"Thanks, Sirius," Harry spoke up, though she could tell he was eager to get out of the musty cave. "I'll write to you soon."

"Sure thing, kiddo," he answered, standing. "If you need anything, or just want me to speak, address a letter to 'Snuffles'. It should find me just fine. We'll get you through this thing."

Harry stood, and was drawn into a quick hug by Sirius again. The man gave her a nod, which she returned, before taking Harry's hand again. They had to shield their eyes as they exited the cave together, the orange sun hanging low on the horizon and tinting the sparse clouds pink.

Fleur inhaled a deep breath of cool afternoon air, which proved to be a welcome change.

"What did you think?" Harry asked quietly from beside her.

"I can tell he feels guilty, which gives me hope. You should have as many people helping you as possible - it is insane for these morons to leave you alone in a deadly tournament."

"We'll need to figure out what we want to tell him, then."

"That we can do, but later. I would very much like to find some dinner," she replied.

Fleur glanced over at him, thinking about giving him a warning glance before he commented on her appetite. At seeing his mischievous glance, she wrapped an arm around his waist, drawing him closer and shushing him.

"If you say anything, I will feed you to Gabby," she hissed. "I can assure you that she has a similar appetite."

His infectious laugh soon drew her in as well, and she had to hold on to him for support.


A/N

Regarding the detailed review outlining the prosecution of the Killing Curse as per the thirteenth chapter, that does not apply to literal murder. The discussion there surrounds practising the Killing Curse in an abandoned, out-of-sight classroom. It is massively unlikely that anyone would want to suddenly investigate Harry's wand, particularly when he is a minor and it being a rather taboo subject in this story. Harry is not running around murdering people for practice. Fleur supports Harry being able to use it as a last resort.

The curse itself is noted to 'require great skill, power and intent in order to be performed correctly' (as per the wiki) - Crouch Jr. (as Moody) also states in canon that all the students in the class could cast it at him and he wouldn't feel a thing - there is no reason for Harry to be suspected of being capable of it, let alone of indulging in the dark arts unless you want to make the argument that his proficiency elsewhere would prompt suspicion.

Thank you all very much for your reviews (of all sorts), and if you have a question or point of criticism you'd like me to address please do let me know. I hope you enjoyed this latest chapter just as much. I'm aware that my take on Veela is perhaps against 'fanon' but I do not want to re-write someone else's story.

I'm also aware that FFN is seemingly having issues and my story/profile doesn't show up sometimes - I have no control over this. In the worst-case scenario, it is available on AO3 under the same author & story name. I've also lost all traffic data on my end, which is lovely to see.