Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns everything.
Chapter 21 - Caught in the Undertow
Fleur held him to her, tightening her grip even more as Harry shuddered noiselessly. She felt the wetness on her shoulder and was partially glad that he was finally allowing himself to let it out, yet it also greatly limited just how much sympathy she could feel for his relatives. It was a horrible thing for her to see as it spoke volumes of how those creatures had treated him. Part of her felt some relief that he wouldn't have to see them again, but she still hoped that he would allow the grief to run its natural course.
Guilt would likely play a significant factor, and she refused to let him wallow in it.
"Dumbledore!"
Sirius stormed off from beside them, leaving her alone with Harry.
"Mr Delacour should be here any minute!" he called back over his shoulder as his brisk pace carried him over to where the Hogwarts Headmaster had just arrived. She barely heard him over the rising voices of those nearby.
Fleur also did not envy the man and longed to hear just what he could say to excuse himself, but Harry took priority. She could always find out later.
A commotion behind her led Fleur to look over her shoulder. Her father strode towards her purposefully, his harsh glare causing nearby Ministry personnel to shrink away. He caught her eye, and his face immediately betrayed his worry.
Harry drew back slowly, wiping his eyes with his hand. Keeping an arm firmly around him, she nudged him forward gently.
"Ready?"
He nodded, staring at the ground. She increased their pace and met her father halfway, who adopted a grim expression.
Glancing around at the ensuing chaos, he pressed a small twig into her hand.
"Portkey, ten seconds" he stated, looking at her steadily, before shifting his gaze to Harry. "Take care of him, oui?"
"Yes, papa," Fleur answered, gripping Harry to her.
She looked back at him, but he seemed to be lost in thought, not having registered her father's presence.
They were pulled away from Privet Drive with a tug behind the navel. Just moments later they were deposited on soft grass, Harry losing his balance immediately upon landing. She managed to hold him up, but only just.
An icy burst of wind swept over them, ruffling her hair uncomfortably.
"Fleur!"
Her mother strode towards them at a brisk walk, and she could see the worry on her face from where she stood on the lawn with Harry, even through the darkness. He seemed to steady himself at hearing her.
"Harry?" Fleur asked quietly.
His gaze snapped to her, face a blank mask.
"Are you okay?"
A moment of silence passed, broken only by the rapid clicks of her mother's footsteps against the cobbled footpath.
"I don't know. But I think I will be…" he replied, looking around slowly as he trailed off. "Where are we?"
"We are at my home," she said, allowing some of the excitement she felt at finally having him here to seep into her tone. "Southern France."
He must've picked up on it, for he looked back to her and gave a small smile. In the dim moonlight, she could still see some evidence of tear tracks on his cheeks. Relief washed over her at seeing him perk up a little.
"Let's get you two inside," her mother stated as she reached them, though she paused as she took in Harry's appearance.
"What happened?" she asked softly, looking between the two of them.
"They're dead. They're really dead," Harry mumbled, averting his gaze again.
Her mother looked at her searchingly.
"His relatives," she filled in, voice just above a whisper.
The older woman gasped, covering her hand with her mouth.
"Oh, you poor boy," she murmured, opening her arms.
Fleur let Harry go, nudging him forward once more. She thought it would do him good to let her mother fuss over him. He needed it.
Harry was enveloped in her mother's embrace, who also stroked a hand through his hair. Fleur saw him sag slightly and hoped he was finding some comfort. She didn't suspect he'd had much motherly affection in his life. It was enough for her to stand back and observe.
"Come on, let's go," her mother whispered to him, her voice carrying through the night to where Fleur stood.
She strode up to him, interlocking her fingers with his.
"Come inside," Fleur said, suppressing a shiver. "It will do you some good."
He seemed almost catatonic again, though his legs seemed to respond to her words. They walked slowly up towards the château.
It was a modestly-sized home by her standards, with a total of three storeys. Large windows looked out upon the grounds, only interrupted periodically by the pale brickwork. Two tall chimneys jutted out of the roof, standing tall on the dark-blue mansard roof. A low hedge surrounded the château, trimmed neatly to sit beneath the lower ledge of the ground-floor windows, which nearly stretched floor-to-ceiling.
They made their way up a short flight of stone steps, and into the home through an open set of double doors. Fleur immediately directed him towards her room, hoping her younger sister hadn't awoken. She heard her mother quietly click the front door shut behind them.
Guiding Harry down the hall and up a flight of stairs, Fleur once again wound her arm around him tightly, pulling him into her side as much as she could. It unnerved her how quiet he was. Perhaps she could distract him.
Their footsteps were muted on the carpeted floor. Eyeing the door to Gabby's room, she kept quiet as they passed it. Hopefully, the house elves would also be asleep.
She kicked open her door as quietly as she could, and pushed him into it. He listlessly wandered forward.
"Sit," Fleur commanded, pointing at the bed.
He obeyed, staring blankly at her.
"Now wait," she said, moving around the large bed to a dresser beside it and rummaging through it.
Moments later, Fleur emerged from the en-suite bathroom in only her nightgown. Harry hadn't moved, but as he caught sight of her, he went beet-red.
There we are, she thought smugly.
"Okay. Shoes off," Fleur directed, unable to keep a smirk off her face. "Now, unless you want to sleep in those, I suggest taking them off too."
Harry flushed further as she pointed at his baggy jeans, his face impossibly red. She took pity on him.
"Just wait until I'm out of the room, of course. Your trunk is next to the bed on your left," she said, suppressing a laugh. "I'll leave you to it."
After finishing her nightly routine, she re-emerged from the en-suite to see Harry sitting on the bed in a fresh shirt and pair of pyjama bottoms, glasses off.
Averting his eyes, he swallowed heavily.
"Um… how am I supposed to-"
Fleur kneeled on the bed in front of him, quite conscious that she might be giving him a show.
"Open wide and hold still," she sang playfully.
He obeyed again, eyes firmly fixed on hers as she concentrated. Fleur performed the standard dental charms on him with a few swipes of her wand. Another flick of her wand turned the light off, allowing the moonlight streaming in through the large windows to dimly illuminate the room in its place.
Placing her wand back on the bedside table, Fleur looked over to Harry.
He'd looked impossibly lost before, and she was relieved to be able to breathe some life back into him for now.
"You aren't sleeping in that, are you?" she questioned, eyeing his shirt distastefully and wrinkling her nose.
He stared back at her blankly.
"What?"
"Being of age is a wonderful thing, Harry," Fleur replied, grinning at him. "It means that I can do what I want, and no one can stop me. Not that Maman would. I do not think you should be alone tonight."
Lowering her voice and losing the playfulness, she continued, her eyes softening.
"If you really want to sleep alone, then we have guest rooms. Whatever is most comfortable for you. There is no pressure."
He seemed to calm at that but made no effort to move from where he sat. She smiled.
"Come on, then," Fleur murmured, tugging at the bottom of his shirt.
He lifted his arms, and she slid it up over his head, leaning over and dropping the garment on top of his trunk. She took a minute to admire his lean build in the low light. It was nice to look at, but a little on the skinny side. Hopefully, they could remedy that in the coming weeks.
"You are okay with being here, yes?" she asked.
Harry nodded, giving her a faint, almost shy smile.
"Yeah, thanks a lot. I owe your family too much," he said.
"Non," Fleur replied sharply. "You do not owe us a thing. It is we who owe you, in case you have forgotten the tournament."
He rubbed his neck, sighing. It was like he knew he wouldn't be winning this particular argument.
She allowed herself to fall back into her pillows, closing her eyes as she was enveloped in the soft, cool linen.
"It's cold, Harry," she whined, patting the space next to her.
Fleur felt the mattress dip as he lay down next to her. Peaking through her eyelashes, she couldn't suppress a smirk at his stiff posture.
"Come here," she whispered, holding out her arms to him. "I'm cold."
His amused expression was only just visible, and Fleur internally cheered at seeing it. She shivered when she felt his cool skin make contact with hers.
Not giving him a chance to pull away, she quickly drew him in, resting her chin on his head and wrapping her arms around his body. He made a noise of protest.
"Shh, I'm comfortable," she murmured into his hair, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.
Harry stilled, no longer making an effort to escape. Eventually, he relaxed, his breathing slowing against her neck.
Fleur remained still, immensely comfortable with his arms around her. Only a sliver of the night sky was visible through the large, vertical window. Moonlight poured in, illuminating the floor. Whilst it'd certainly been a difficult day for Harry, she couldn't squash the warm feeling at hearing those three words. They replayed over and over in her mind. Yet, the reason for her visit saddened her, especially seeing how he'd been affected.
It'd been almost a year since they'd met, yet she had seen him go through so much. It was immensely impressive.
Trying to hug him tighter to her, she did her best to banish the thoughts. They'd deal with it together. For now, Fleur was content to stay where she was. Never before had she thought holding someone to her would make her feel this way. There was an overwhelming desire to shield him from the world, to not let anyone else sabotage his happiness.
Feeling the warmth rising within her, Fleur relaxed.
He probably wouldn't appreciate it if I set the bed on fire, she thought with a small grin.
Resting her cheek against his silky hair, she closed her eyes. In the current moment, everything felt perfect. She wondered when this could become the norm, for she desperately wanted to rid him of all his problems. The rational part of her knew that things would get harder before they got easier.
He emerged from the fireplace, brushing the thin layer of soot from his clothes. His wife, whom he guessed had just been asleep on the couch, jumped up at seeing him.
"Sebastien!"
She hugged him tightly, parting as the fireplace flared once more.
Sebastien turned to see Sirius Black stagger out, only just keeping his balance on the carpeted floor.
"Still not used to it, are we?"
The man mumbled something intelligible, scowling.
Appoline led the two of them over to the couch, immediately fetching a tray with tea from the kitchen.
"So, what happened?" she asked quietly, setting the tray down in front of them on a small table. "Fleur went up to her room with Harry straight away, and he was in no state to talk. I did not want to bug them."
He exhaled heavily, all of the details of the past hours coming rushing back. Sipping at the tea, Sebastien eyed Sirius. He met his gaze with a small nod.
The man probably looked no better than he did, considering it was now the early hours of the morning. Dark rings hung beneath his eyes, his posture weak.
Yet, he respected the man greatly for being so devoted to his godson.
Sirius cleared his throat.
"That bastard didn't seem to realise that Voldemort had taken Harry's blood," he spoke, his tone bitter. "What's the point in blood wards if the person you are trying to keep out has the same blood? What a fucking idiot."
He looked up, setting his cup down.
"Sorry about the language," he grumbled, eyes flicking to Appoline.
She chuckled.
"No matter, I'm used to it," Appoline dismissed with a wave of her hand. "Though I'll have something to say if Harry starts speaking like that."
He grinned into his tea, taking a second sip and setting it down.
"The wards were already weakened," Sebastien mentioned carefully, his eyes fixed on his teacup.
"How is that?"
"His oaf of an uncle tried to mess with the locks on his door," Sirius said. "I charmed them in various ways, all harmless. One of them had been triggered that day. Afterwards, his uncle must've said something that made Harry doubt himself. Albus said that the blood wards would only work whilst he could 'call it home'. Though, that would have still kept anyone magical other than Voldemort out."
Appoline looked apoplectic by the end of his explanation.
"You should not have done something to make his life more difficult," she scolded lightly, her expression slowly turning murderous. "That Headmaster deserves something horrible to happen to him. Why was he in charge of Harry's living arrangements?"
"Because he knows something about a prophecy between the boy and this Voldemort," Sebastien said. "We got that much out of him, but we were not able to get much more, no matter how much we threatened him."
"But prophecies cannot be taken to be real, can they?" Appoline asked. "Or maybe it could be something good?"
He looked over at Sirius, who wore a matching grim expression to his own.
"I do not think his Order of the Phoenix would be so eager to protect him during the school holidays if it was something good," Sebastien said, grimacing. "He did tell us that Voldemort is aware of part of it, but not the full thing. Even with Horcruxes, he is terrified of an unknown variable like Harry, which is why he continues to target the poor boy."
"I'll not let him lay a finger on Harry," Sirius snarled, suddenly appearing far more awake.
"Neither will we if we can help it, but I do not know what we can do," Sebastien replied.
"We will see," Appoline said, determination written across her features.
Silence settled for a moment. Eventually, he saw Sirius jerk his head up.
"Did you say Fleur took Harry into her bedroom?" he asked, eyes wide.
Grinning, he met his wife's eyes.
"Why, even if we didn't want them to sleep together, you'd have a hard time telling Fleur that. I doubt you'd make it out alive," Sebastien answered, chuckling.
"She's responsible," Appoline added, cocking an eyebrow at Sebastien. "Harry is good for her, and Fleur is good for him."
Sirius sighed, staring into his tea.
"That lucky dog," he muttered lowly.
Sebastien raised his eyebrows at the other man.
Dumbledore strode into his office late at night, feeling incredibly weary. It was times like these that his age seemed to catch up to him. Sagging back into his chair, he looked over to Fawkes' perch, where the phoenix slumbered noiselessly.
The windows showed the pink dawn light slowly encroaching, and he wondered just how many hours he'd been awake.
No matter, as Dumbledore had let down the boy he'd sworn to protect horribly. If he could trade a week's worth of sleep to undo his mistakes, it would all be worth it. Yet, when he'd been in the position to do something, he'd failed to act.
He hoped the boy's parents would forgive him, for he doubted he had too long before he met them. Drawing back his sleeve, he winced as he saw the blackened skin on his hand. His greed had gotten the better of him.
Dipping his quill into the inkpot, Dumbledore began to draft his resignation as Headmaster. His actions had not been enough to protect Harry, and if he wanted to atone for his neglect then he would need to do so quickly.
Minerva would hopefully accept. If not, he doubted the school would function. Alastor would not fill the Defense role for him, and Dumbledore hadn't had any luck elsewhere. A Ministry appointee looked inevitable.
He would refocus his efforts on the ICW and Wizengamot. Fortunately, Cornelius had not yet caved to the demands of the ICW to stop distancing the British Ministry, and it was looking less likely that he would by the day. Especially when numerous saboteurs had recently been discovered within the Ministry, each with visible dark marks and links to the international organisation.
Perhaps he'd underestimated the Minister, but he could only hope that his warning to the man would eventually be considered.
A/N
Sorry, this chapter was a day late. I have been quite busy and wasn't quite able to get it out yesterday. Your reviews are much appreciated :)
