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The Shadow of Death
Chapter 22: Just One Dance
His eyes narrowed at the mirror, trailing over the robes covering his body. Insects crawled slow, creeping paths over his skin. He plucked at them, a growl rumbling from his throat as they continued their inexorable trek.
"You're going to tear your dress robes if you keep at them like that, Harry."
Harry turned, his body stiff as a board beneath the itchy fabric. A heated scowl twisted onto his face when a blurred figure appeared behind him.
"Perhaps that would be for the better, Corner." Harry looked back to his black and light blue robes. "Then I would have an excuse to rid myself of this nightmarish event."
Corner coughed. "Michael."
"What?" Harry looked at Corner through the mirror's dusty surface.
"I've been telling you to call me Michael for the past week." Corner pushed Harry from the mirror. "We've been roommates for the past four months."
Harry scowled and picked at a seam pinching his armpit. "Three months, three weeks, and one day, Corner."
Corner rolled his eyes. "Details. And call me Michael."
Giving an eyeroll of his own, Harry replied, "Fine, Michael. Are you happy?"
The annoying wizard beamed. "Immensely. Besides, it can't be all that bad."
"The Yule Ball?" Harry asked. "Of course it is. There are many other, more important, things I could do with my time."
Thin lips crawled to a smirk. Corner raised the back of his hand to his forehead and pretended to faint, bouncing on his four-poster bed.
"Oh, woe is me," he snarked, "I must escort the most beautiful witch in the school to the Yule Ball and be seen on her arm, dancing the night away. Woe be unto all those named Harry Potter!" Corner peeked at him through one squinted eye. "Did I get that right?"
Harry drew his wand in a flash and sent Corner to the floor in a tangle of robes and limbs. "You are extremely annoying, you know that?"
Corner's smiling face peeked up from the other side of his bed. "I live to serve. Seriously though, where do you get off to? You're hardly ever here or at the library."
"That is none of your business." Harry slipped his wand back up his sleeve. "I am leaving. I have had enough of your… wit."
A low moan echoed around the small room as Corner stood and dusted off his robes. "I'll see you at the ball then, yeah?"
"Hopefully not."
"Yeah, I'll see you there, Harry!"
Harry raised his hand in a rude gesture and grunted as he left the dormitory.
Childish chatter flew up the narrow, winding stairs. A wave of unrestrained excitement and teenage hormones blasted over him as he entered the common room.
Students, mostly male, awaited their dates dressed in their finery, though a few couples dotted the large room. His eyes scanned the area, hoping to find a way to pass the tedium of waiting for Fleur.
His eyes caught firelight flashing over dirty-blonde hair, turning it a shimmering bone-white.
"Good evening, Luna." Harry took a seat beside her on the stiff couch. "I am glad to see that at least one other person is not excited for this ball."
The blonde girl looked up from her butterbeer cap necklace. "Oh, I am very excited, Harry, but I agreed to meet my date in the Entrance Hall just before the ball starts."
Harry gave a mindless hum in return, his eyes rolling over the expanding crowd. Phantasmal flickers crept to the edge of his vision.
'Not today.' Harry looked down at the couch. 'Not now. Just a bit longer.'
"What do you think of my dress, Harry?" Luna pouted, picking at her frilly silver dress. "You are supposed to compliment your date when they dress up."
He looked up and Luna squirmed, a wide smile on her face. "It is very puffy, but I am sure it is very fashionable, Luna."
Luna slapped his shoulder. "That wasn't a very good compliment, Harry."
"You are not my date," Harry replied with a shrug.
Pupils dilated and covered her blue irises, expanding into a never-ending void. Pale, rigid fingers traced the air in odd, flowing patterns.
"Perhaps in another time, in another place." Luna's voice scratched through the air.
Starting, Harry turned, straining to see what she saw. Heat haze rippled the air. Warbled moans droned through the room.
"But that was destroyed many years ago, wasn't it, Harry Potter?" Luna's dark eyes stared through him. "What could have been, what could be… It's so bright… So… dark."
"Luna, what—"
She jumped as though electrocuted. "Oh! Here comes Fleur! Make sure to compliment her, Harry. Please try harder this time, though."
Harry turned, taking in the males' vacant expressions. The fire at the front of the common room roared over the stunned silence.
Silver, diamond-encrusted heels shimmered in the light, clacking against stone steps. A tasteful, sheen, light blue dress hugged her body and left her pale shoulders bared. Fleur's silver hair sat in an elaborate bun, save for two bouncing strands framing her delicate face.
Her entrance had left many of the gathered wizards drooling. Eyes, warm of colour, yet icy as mountain peaks did not spare them a glance. Something shimmered in those oceanic depths.
Harry followed her descent, took in her proud visage, met her shimmering eyes, and, yet, nothing stirred within him. 'Empty.'
A sharp elbow ground into his ribs as Fleur approached the bottom step. Harry shot the young witch a pointed glare before making his way toward his date.
"I have been informed," he grunted, shooting Luna another side-long glare, "that it is expected I pay you a compliment."
"It is expected, oui." Fleur's eyes glittered like gems, the corners of her mouth curling.
"Fleur." Harry cleared his throat. "You look suitably prepared for our outing."
Her face fell. "Zhat was a compliment?"
"Harry's a work in progress, Fleur," Luna chirped from the couch. "I suggest you take what you can get."
"It was a compliment," Harry groused. "To be prepared and on time shows forethought and attentiveness to detail."
"Zhat is not a compliment, 'Arry."
Feet pounding on stone echoed down the stairwell. Corner, huffing, leapt the final steps and came to a halt near them.
Harry took a step forward. "Do not—"
"Oh, woe be unto me," Corner cried in a dramatic voice, "that the fates would be so unkind as to—"
Harry sent him sailing into an unoccupied armchair. Corner's quiet moans carried over from behind the toppled furniture.
"I am going to kill him," Harry growled. "Let's go."
Fleur rushed to catch up to him.
—0v0—
"I heard the ICW is trying to cancel the exchange programme because of the attack on Hogsmeade," an Italian witch behind Fleur whispered.
'Hufflepuff, if I remember correctly.'
"Sebastien Delacour is trying to block motion," Sergei Sokolov, a fifth year Ravenclaw, muttered. "I tink is because he vants Delacour to stay with Potter."
Fleur lifted her head and tuned out the gossipping students. Her grip on Harry's arm tightened as they entered the Great Hall; his face looked as if it had been constructed from granite.
"Do zhey not bozzer you?" Fleur's cheeks reddened, her eyes ghosting over the beautiful crystalline constructions towering over the hall.
"Why should they?" His green eyes stayed fixed on something in the distance. "They are insignificant. Let them talk."
'I can't help but agree with him, but it's still easier said than done at times.'
Snow fluttered from the ceiling in soft waves, tickling her nose. The stone floor was covered in fine, white dust and ice, enchanted beyond reason, sprouted from the drab floor to the star-filled ceiling in delicate, breathtaking streams.
'It is better than last year.' The corners of her mouth quirked. 'But still not as good as Beauxbatons.'
Fleur looked over at her date, his expression still cut from stone.
"You could at least look like you're 'appy to be seen wiz me." She arched an eyebrow. "Many would kill to be in your position."
"I have much on my mind," he whispered. "Unpleasant things."
Painted fingernails dug into Harry's sleeve. "Zhen forget zhem. We should enjoy zhe night. It's a welcome reprieve from all zhe recent… unpleasantness, non?"
"You should enjoy the night, you mean?" Harry slowed as they approached their table.
Whispers faded into the soft, entrancing snow.
"We 'ad a deal," Fleur shot back.
Harry pulled her arm, motioning to a table to their left. She bristled at his answering silence.
"Fine," he whispered as he pulled a seat out for her at a round table.
Looking over her shoulder, Fleur took in his beaming face. His false cheer stung more than his indifference and ire.
"My, my. Trouble in paradise?"
Fleur's head snapped around at the question. Professor Devora Antov leaned forward, lights sparkling off her sequined purple dress.
"None, Professor." Harry sat between them, the smile never leaving his face. "Just a disagreement, you understand."
"Of course." The older witch took a long drink of her wine, eying them over its rim. "It's normal for those bound by contract to disagree from time to time. How is it by the way? Your betrothal?"
Fleur's heart withered in her chest as she smiled at Antov. "Magnifique, Professor. 'Arry is a perfect gentleman."
Antov's acid-green eyes smouldered, a small smile on her lips. Harsh, jagged shadows fell over Fleur and her legs quivered beneath the table.
"Wonderful." The Defence Professor clapped her hands together and the shadows passed. "You will have to tell me how you manage to make Mister Potter smile so brightly. He is nothing but serious in class."
"It is hard not to when you are betrothed to such an enchanting witch."
Fleur laid her head on his shoulder and jabbed her finger into his ribs. The professor's eyes shifted back to her.
'Why do I feel as though I should run?'
"You two are very close." Antov scratched her left arm. "I have a cousin in Russia who was recently betrothed. I would love to hear how you two became so tightly knit so I could give her some advice."
Harry's arm snaked over her shoulders and tendrils of ice crept up her spine at his words. "Fleur and I would be happy to—"
Fleur jerked and tipped her glass of water, spilling her drink onto her date's lap. Harry and Antov turned to stare at her.
"'Ow clumsy of me." She pulled out her wand to cast a drying charm. "I'm afraid we must decline, Professor. It could be seen as inappropriate."
"A pity," Antov sniffed. "So many people are interested in your relationship. I suppose my cousin will have to learn for herself."
Quiet fell on the hall as Dumbledore stood to his feet. "Thank you all for joining us for our second annual Yule Ball. Professors, the Great Hall is simply stunning. Please join me in a round of applause to Professor McGonagall and the other professors who worked diligently to make this ball what we see before us!"
While the rest of the assembly gave polite applause, the Weasley twins decided to give a rather raucous standing ovation.
"Three cheers for Professor Whiskers!" One of the twins pulled a horn from his dress robes. He gave it a blow, only for it to emit a sound akin to a dying moose.
"Hip-hip," yelled the other twin to thundering laughter.
"Hurrah," the crowd answered.
"Hip-hip!"
"Detention, Misters Weasley." Professor McGonagall stormed to her feet, her lips thin and a blush on her cheeks. "For the first month of next term."
Both twins bowed to light laughter and retook their seats.
"Thank you, Misters Weasley, for your much needed levity." Dumbledore's electric blue eyes sparkled at them. "And good luck to you in your upcoming detentions! However, I digress. As I am sure you are all eagerly awaiting the festivities, please allow me to open the ball with the most important part… Food!"
Menus shimmered to life on the table in front of them. Fleur perused the menu with a sigh, her nose wrinkling at the limited choices of French cuisine.
Eventually, she chose her meal and the group at the table ate in silence. The elves had, at least, created a passable attempt at preparing actual food.
When the majority of the people had finished eating a band began playing an upbeat song. The teachers ambled to the dance floor in the centre of the Great Hall and opened the dance portion of the ball.
Fleur turned to Harry, eyebrow raised. Her eyes flicked between him and the people dancing.
"I do not dance." He raised his drink to his lips.
"You should always give your lady a dance when she requests it, Mister Potter." Antov's eyes shifted to Snape, whose surly demeanour cast a cloud over the room. "In fact, I believe I'll have a dance or two myself."
The Defence Professor stood from the table. Snape, apparently, had seen her and disappeared into the crowd.
Fleur gave Harry's arm an insistent tug. "Come, just one dance..."
Harry's narrowed eyes followed Antov's retreating form. He growled something under his breath and nodded. "Just one dance. No more."
Pearly white teeth flashed in the bright, flowing light. Fleur's lips twitched into a frown. Regardless, Fleur grabbed his hand and dragged him to the crowded dance floor.
'I felt like we were making progress,' she thought as they weaved through the lively crowd, 'but now he's more distant than ever. What happened? Hogsmeade?'
She shook her head and positioned his hands on her waist, wrapping her own over his shoulders.
'He is used to such scenes if his morbid hints about his past are to be believed.' The song changed to a slow, melodious tune. 'Something must have happened. I only wish this night could be as special as I'd hoped when I was a little girl.'
Harry stared at her, unmoving, his false smile never faltering. Green eyes shifted to the couples around them spinning in slow, swaying circles.
She followed his line of sight to a nearby couple dancing to the beautiful melody. They were in her year, two people whose names she couldn't place.
But they stared into each others' eyes with such enviable adoration. Coals seared her twisting stomach. Fleur forced her eyes back to Harry.
Yet, despite his smile, his eyes were dead, heavy with some unseen burden.
'The love I dreamed of seeing in my betrothed's eyes so long ago…'
Fleur's lips tucked into a frown. "You are supposed to lead, 'Arry."
He took a leaden step to the right, causing her to stumble over him. Strong arms righted her, supported by a body stiff as a marble statue.
"Relax," she muttered. "Watch zheir feet. Copy zheir movements."
They stood rooted for a few more moments as Harry studied the couples around them. Finally, he began to move.
'At least he isn't stepping on my toes.'
His fingers dug into her waist. Fleur closed her eyes, focussing on the heat of his body instead of the cold of his magic.
Her mind drifted as they moved, fluttering through a sea of soft, tickling green.
Grass, swaying lazily in a warm breeze, tickled her feet. Flowing heat wrapped her in a comforting, familiar embrace as she traced graceful patterns over the soft ground. Foam-capped waves lapped against the shore in a song as old as the Earth.
White fabric shifted and glittered in soft arcs as she spun through the air. Warmth spread through her chest and cheeks when strong, tanned arms wrapped around her. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach at his gentle caress and dark, flowing hair tickled her nose.
Fleur looked up, meeting soft brown eyes framed by a featureless, blurred face. Love flowed from those eyes like rivers in Spring and they filled her heart to the point of bursting. Fleur sighed as the man spun her once more.
Her heart pounded, aching to fall back into his arms.
He smiled again, proud, soft, and so very caring. A smile only for her.
Fleur smiled back.
But the music stopped. The faceless man stepped back with a frown and dissolved into curling wisps of smoke. The grass stilled, the ocean froze.
Fleur opened her eyes and was met with a wall of cold, indifferent green set atop a fake, beaming smile. Her eyes flicked to the doors.
She sighed. "Let's go outside, 'Arry."
If he sensed her disappointment he didn't make it known, instead following her through the twirling crowd, his presence heavy as a lead ball.
Tinkling laughter and sweet nothings floated to her ears. Bodies pressed around her, squeezing her tight enough that she felt like she'd burst.
Diamond-encrusted heels clacked against the snow-covered, stone floor in a blur of noise. She kept her head low. Fleur didn't have the heart to see the smiling faces, the magic of a night that should've been hers.
'Not when it's so far out of my reach.' Thick, frigid air seared her lungs. 'Not when I can't fix it. Not since I'm the cause.'
Brittle wind whipped her face, a harsh reminder that her imagined field would never come to be. Fleur took in the courtyard's decoration through her hazy breath.
'Shallow,' she thought. 'A beautiful mimicry, a perfect dream, that won't ever be real.'
They passed amorous couples who'd yet to be caught by prowling teachers. Frozen dirt crunched beneath their feet and trees hummed a haunting melody into a breeze.
Fleur looked for a place to be alone, regret churning deep in her gut.
Her eyes fell upon twinkling lights, shimmering on soft, black ripples. The moon's gentle face stared out from atop the serene waters of the Black Lake.
"Over there," she muttered, pulling Harry behind her.
They rounded a small hill that hid an outcropping of rocks and a solitary tree.
'Solitude. My refuge.' Her lips quivered. 'I shouldn't have brought him.'
Cold, stiff fingers ghosted down her spine as she sat, a small tremor shooting through her. Fleur's wand slipped into her fingers and she cast a warming charm over herself.
Fleur watched in silence as the giant squid glided across the lake's surface. Ripples shot out from its tentacles, turning each star into a streaking ball of blue flame.
The beauty of the peaceful scene clawed at her heart.
"'Ow is it zhat you feel nozzing but anger, contempt?" The words burst from her lips. "And when you aren't angry you feel nozzing."
She heard Harry stir beside her, but he was quiet for a long time.
Forcing her stinging eyes over, she took in his countenance. Deep, dark bags hung beneath his eyes. Frigid green splintered for a moment, showing something hidden in their depths.
War surged behind glassy, green eyes. Stars reflected off their surface, exploding into novas. Pain bled from them and they glistened in the beams of soft, pale moonlight.
Her hand slid over the cold stone separating them. Harry's eyes flitted to her, his body stiff. The war in his eyes came to an abrupt end, a wall of ice dividing the combatants.
'He won the battle.'
"Please." Fleur withdrew her hand. "I need to know."
Laughter and music taunted her from up the hill. Tears pricked her eyes as she turned back to the lake.
'He won't answer.'
"I do feel."
The lake's gentle rush nearly drowned his answer beneath its surging, dark depths. Fleur's head whipped around. The corners of his eyes wrinkled, ice melting. The battle returned with burning fervour. Words froze on the tip of her tongue.
"And I do not understand," he murmured, fists clenched in his lap. "Nobody can help me. Not Dumbledore. Luna. Neville. You."
"But I ca—"
His hand sliced the air, white sparks hissing in its wake. Narrow, green eyes flashed to her, face curled in cold fury. Fleur recoiled from his gaze.
"You can't understand," he hissed. "Everyone wants me to feel, to talk. But I wasn't made to feel. I don't know what I feel and it fills me with fury…" His head dropped. "I just want to feel…"
"Nozzing." Fleur nodded. "I understand zhat better zhan most, given my life."
Harry snorted.
"Feeling nozzing is easy, it is neat… tidy," she continued. "But we weren't made to feel nozzing, to fight what's natural. Your upbringing doesn't 'elp."
"Dumbledore said much the same." Harry looked out over the rippling lake. "How do you deal with it?"
"I accept what I feel and I confront zhe source." Fleur turned her gaze to the heavens. "I never stop until it's done."
Harry's eyes shifted to her. "That is easier said than done. I have never had this problem before. Could you help me?"
She shook her head. "It is as you said, 'I can't understand.' Unless you tell me."
He looked away again and emotion, comforting yet forlorn, bubbled within her. Silence fell over them as she considered her own feelings.
'Doubt. Anger. Despair.' Fleur clenched her fist. 'Hope.'
"Do you zhink… you could learn?" Fleur swallowed the lump in her throat. "To feel? Do you zhink we could be 'appy togezzer?"
"Honestly?" Harry slid from the rock. "I do not know. There is too much between us and I am broken... unfixable. Happiness was never in the equation, Fleur."
Dirt crunched beneath his retreating feet. Cold wind buffeted her loose strands of hair and she shivered. The stars and moon stared down at Fleur from on high, uncaring of her plight.
Fleur cursed their apathy.
"Je sais."