Chapter 8

Fleur

It was close to nine in the evening when I flooed back home from Grimmauld Place. William was sitting at the couch, his back turned to the fireplace, drinking something amber out of a crystal cut glass. He greets me without turning around. "Hello, Fleur."

I think of asking for a glass of what he is having, but I decide I'd rather have a little wine instead. I go to the wine cabinet and grab a chilled bottle of chardonnay from an acquaintance's winery and a glass. A silent spell, and the cork pops out. I pour myself about half a glass, close the bottle pushing the cork back into it a bit, swirl the wine around, sniff it and sip a little, playing with it in my mouth. It's dry, fresh and reminds me of home. I turn around to see William staring intently at me with a serious expression. "'ello, William. 'ow was your day?"

He waves his hand in a gruff dismissal. "My day was fine, Fleur. Where were you?"

"I was wizz 'arry, of course." I know my reply will push his buttons. I don't really care, though. I like angry sex.

"With Harry..."

"Oui."

"You were supposed to be home hours ago!"

"Oh? C'est vrai?" My most innocent tone.

"Speak English, damn it!"

"What is eet, William? You don't like my tongue?" I lick my lips seductively and I nearly laugh at the struggle between desire and anger in his face.

He decides to set desire aside and keep his anger. Idiot. "Mum is right about you," he mumbles.

That was the wrong thing to say. At the mention of the bigoted redhead hag, my plans for debauchery fly out the window. Feathers sprout in my arms and neck, claws grow at the tip of my fingers and I toss a small blue fireball right at his face. He dodges it, and it hits the living room carpet, setting it on fire. Veela fire is sustained by intent, and since I had no plans of burning the carpet, the fire quickly goes out, leaving a dark patch and a small cloud of smoke. I have a second fireball in my hand, and I'm thinking of sending it at his crotch, but he pulls his wand out and casts a shield.

"Stop it!" He is angry, but I can see fear in him as well. Fear is good

I play with the fireball, rolling it around my claws, letting my instincts loose for a bit. "Drop your shield." My voice crackles with harsh avian undertones. I spin another fireball in my left hand. His shield will take one fireball, but it will break with the second. He will make a pretty bonfire. Then... something. I hesitate. William lets the shield go and casts three silent stunners. He is strong, but sluggish, and I've been sparring with Harry. I twist around, avoiding two of them, and take the third straight to my chest. I feel it, clouding my mind a bit, but my avian form is fairly magic resistant. I screech, ready to burn him. He lowered his wand when he saw his stunner hit me, and that would have been his last mistake. All I see is the fear in his eyes, the certainty of pain, when I throw the fireball. As it hits, suddenly it feels like my blood turns to ice water in my veins. For a moment, I see a pair of emerald green eyes, sad and worried. The intent to burn just disappears, together with the flames and my anger turns to a taste of ash in my mouth.

He screams as he sits back. His shirt has a foot-wide burnt hole, his chest is angry red and there is a smell of wine, burnt cloth and hair. When he realizes the flames are gone, he is looking at himself unbelieving, slack jawed with the beginnings of shock. I realize I've dropped my wine, and there is a lot of glass of the floor. He is muttering "Fuck... fuck..."

I'm back in my fully human form. With a sweeping wand gesture, I put my glass back together and vanish the wine. Then I serve myself of another glass, and take a large gulp. To say that I'm confused is a gross understatement. I enjoyed letting the Veela out. It felt... liberating. But William doesn't deserve to die for saying something stupid. Or maybe he does. It was very, very stupid. I'm not sure. Still, the consequences would be severe, if I killed him. I'd probably have to spend the rest of my life hiding at the enclave. I walk out. Maybe the ocean breeze will help clear my head.

I sit in a flat rock, staring at the ocean. It's a dark night, the low clouds obscuring the stars and the crescent moon. The breeze makes my hair fly around messily, until I conjure a bit of string to tie it. I nearly killed William. I know, spending time with Harry brings the Veela closer to the surface. His magic feels so... tasty. Besides, I was also angry at what happened at that tea house and worried about that horrid bitch stuck in the middle of it.

After a while, William comes out and leans against my rock. "I'm sorry," he says.

I laugh, but without humor. "I nearly kill you and you apologize?"

"I was told it was a good idea to start with an apology."

"So, zis was a strategic apology, to help wizz good will..."

"No! I mean it!"

"Fine, William." Is it always like that? Him trying to say what I he thinks I want to hear? But why would he do that?

"So, do you forgive me?"

"Yes, you are forgiven." The relief in his face is obvious. "And I apologize for throwing fireballs at you."

He dry swallows, nearly choking on his anger and fear. "It's fine." I shake my head. Spineless.

"As to your original question, when I was about to come 'ome, after 'arry's tutoring, Narcissa dropped in by emergency portkey. Zere was an attempt at killing 'er. "arry went to check ze place, and I went wizz 'im to watch 'is back."

"Was there any trouble?"

"Just a leetle. We also 'ad to talk to ze aurors."

"A little." I shrug and he grimaces. "Harry attracts trouble Fleur. You shouldn't follow him into it."

I laugh. "Ah! Stupide. Just because ze war is over you zink life is just rainbows and unicorns?"

His scarred face darkens. "No, of course not. Still..."

I cut him off. "And who do you zink leads ze light now? Kingsley? McGonagall?"

He gets angry. "He's just a boy!"

I get angry too. Not Veela angry, with feathers, but cold angry. "You are even more stupide than I thought. Just a boy? Pfft!"

He continues, too loudly. "It's the bloody truth. He's a teenager. You're tutoring him for his exams. He's not a leader of anything, Fleur."

Not a leader of anything. I see the respect in everyone who crosses his path. My reply comes out in a sibilant whisper. "You don't know what you are talking about, William."

"The fuck I don't." He's screaming now. It's an overblown reaction, specially considering Harry's accomplishments. Then something clicks. Of course. He's jealous. I very nearly laugh. It's perfectly understandable, I suppose. But I don't really want to deal with it. Not when I'm very tempted to just dump his sorry arse, throw myself at the 'leetle boy' and prove him justified.

I get up, ready to go to bed and entertain myself. He is still talking loudly. "Where are you going? We are not done!"

'Not done'... about ten paces from him, I turn around and point a finger at him. "I zink I am done wizz you, William..."

His face goes instantly from angry to pleading. "What? No Fleur! Please..."

I feel light. Like a big weight was lifted from my shoulders. This feels right. "You can have ze guest bedroom tonight."

"No, Fleur! I love you..."

"We will talk in ze morning. Bon soir."

"No..." His voice disappears into a whisper as I walk away.

I wake up too early the next morning, with a black rubber penis on the pillow next to me. I transfigured it from a hairbrush and charmed it to vibrate. Last night I cried a little, then rolled in bed for a while, thinking hard.. My marriage with William was a mistake. An honest mistake. One that lady Magic generosity made it easy to fix.

William is a good man. He dazzled my teenage self with his looks, his attention, his rugged competence, his bed skills and his thoughtful manner. Then came the Order, the war and nursing the wounded hero back to health. A rushed, wartime wedding. Both my mother and his disapproved of the wedding, for very different reasons. It's ironic that they were both right.

The feelings were there. They were mutual and true, I believe, but a little superficial. He enjoys having a Veela for a wife, it strokes his ego, and he really likes the sex. Despite coming from a poor family, I don't think my family's wealth ever mattered to him. But, in his heart of hearts, he hopes I'll become a bourgeois homemaker and mother. And that is simply not happening. Ever.

After I made an uneasy peace with myself, I had a little fun with my rubber 'friend' and enjoyed a very restful, dreamless night.

I shower, get dressed and stop for a second at the bedroom's closed door, gathering a little courage. As it turns out, William is still asleep in the guest bedroom, an empty bottle of firewhisky next to the bed. Hangover potion is a really simple concoction with four ingredients that takes twenty minutes to brew. I leave a vial next on his bedstand and prepare breakfast. Half an hour later William comes out, with the empty vial in his and, without a word, picks up a couple of croissants from the oven, makes himself a cup of tea and sits in front of me to eat. After eating and drinking his tea he looks at me. "Thank you." His voice is tired and hoarse.

"You're welcome. And bonjour."

"Bonjour to you too." There is a little pause and continues. "Fleur?"

"Yes, William, I really meant it."

"But..."

"I'm sorry."

He seems defeated. "Can we still talk about it?"

"Oui, of course. Per'aps tonight?"

Before William can reply, the fireplace flashes green, and Harry's voice can be heard. "Bill, Fleur? Are you still home?" A flash of annoyance crosses William's face, which I ignore.

"Yes, 'arry. 'ow can we 'elp?"

"Can I come?"

"Sure." I step aside, as Harry tumbles out of the floo. With an awkward roll, he's on his feet and dusting himself. "Good morning, 'arry."

"Good morning Fleur, Bill." He's a little distracted, but with a glance he takes in Bill's stony countenance. "Is everything ok?"

"Peachy," William snarks.

"Have you 'ad breakfast?"

"Yes, thank you." He looks again at the two of us and shrugs. "Last night, after you left, I got a patronus message from Luna Lovegood, asking me to come to Hogwarts. As it turns out, Hermione had some kind of mental breakdown, and Luna thought I could help. I brought her home and Anais spent most of the night examining her. She thinks Hermione has been cursed."

William and I stand sharply at that. "Cursed? How?" Asks William.

"We don't know for sure. It seems to be going on for a few weeks at least. Anais suggested we need a curse-breaker."

"Did you talk to Ron and Gin?"

"No. It was long past curfew. Luna said she would tell them."

William nods. We exchange a glance. "We can't do anything without a signed contract, Harry."

"That's fine. Who should I talk to?"

"Talk to your account manager. He will make arrangements."

"All right. Thanks."

Harry

The ambient magic at Grimmauld Place is too strong, and whatever is wrong with Hermione is very subtle. So, Fleur and Anais decide to relocate to the flat in Islington, Anais and I watch Fleur doing a series of diagnostic spells on a naked Hermione, placed on an induced coma using muggle sedatives. She carefully scans both on her front and then on her back.

Fleur keeps mumbling incantations and talking to herself in French, sweeping her wand back and forth over Hermione. She switches to English, for Harry's benefit. "Eet is clearly a curse, and her brain is where eet is most active."

"That is to be expected, Fleur." Anais replies in a dry tone.

"Of course." Fleur continues in her teacher tone. "As you know, curses tend to leave marks on ze body." Her eyes wander to my forehead, and the most famous curse scar in the world. She frowns for a moment. "What 'appened? Eet looks different."

Indeed, the angry red mark has turned into a thin whitish line after the horcrux' demise. Only Hermione, Ron and now Anais know about it. Should I tell Fleur? Sure. She's gone from a close acquaintance to a very dear friend in a short time. "It's a long story. Ask me again over a glass of wine."

"Zat's fine. Eet's a date." I smile with her word choice. "Continuing, Zere are about a dozen visible markings on her skin, two of zem with a strong dark residue, and anozzer zree show faint to nearly imperceptible dark aura." She points to a faded scar on her left thumb, a dark dot on her inner right thigh and a scratch on her left ankle. "We should shave 'er, to check ze scalp. 'er 'air is too magical and interferes wizz ze scanning." She looks pointedly at me.

I shake my head. The idea of shaving off Hermione's beautiful mane is just horrible. "Let's wait a bit on that."

"What about ze ozzer marks?"

"The scar on the thumb is a skrewt bite." Both Fleur and Anais look intrigued. "A skrewt is a cross between a fire crab and a manticore. We raised a bunch of them from larvae during fourth year. We were only supposed to handle them with dragon leather gloves, but one of them latched into a friend's robes, Hermione decided to remove it by hand after class and got bitten. They placed a couple of grown ones on the third task maze."

Fleur gives one of her cute Gallic shrugs. "I never saw one."

I smirk, unamused. I hated the stupid things. "Lucky you."

"Fire crabs are neutral, but manticore scars would definitely leave a dark residue," Anais explains.

"The scratch on the ankle looks fresh. Probably a little slip during Herbology."

Anais points at the black spot on her thigh. "That looks like a witch's birthmark."

"I've never heard of that."

"Witches are often born with a magical mark."

"Not wizards?"

"No. Not Veelas either."

Fleur adds, in a teasing tone. "Veela skin is always unblemished."

"Except for the occasional feather..."

Fleur slaps me gently in the arm. "You should be very careful wizz ze feazzers, 'arry."

"Why? I like birds."

Anais interrupts them. "Children! Stop flirting and keep your minds on task." Her tone is clearly amused.

My face burns a bit, and Fleur averts her eyes, embarrassed. "Sorry. Does it mean anything that her birthmark would show a dark residue?"

"Not much," replies Anais. "Maybe a dark ancestor, or maybe a little compatibility with the darker spells. What about the other scars?"

"The one on her back is a dark cutting curse cast by Dolohov in June of ninety-six. I don't know the incantation, because he was silenced when he cast it. but the spell is dark purple."

Anais nods. "I know the spell. The incantation is 'tagus', but people often refer to it as 'Doholov's special'..." She stops talking and looks up, deep in thought. Fleur and I wait respectfully, for what it ends up being about five minutes. Finally she looks at me. "You have his wand, right?"

I take out the cat-shaped wand. "Yes."

"Does it answer well?"

"Well enough, I guess. It's battle spoils. But..." Fleur's eyes brighten with interest.

"There's an odd, let's call it 'theory', among healers, that the wand that inflicts a wound would be the best at healing it. You recall the incantation for healing small injuries?"

"You mean 'episkey'"

"Correct. For deeper, more extensive cuts there is a more powerful charm."

I don't know of it, but Fleur does. "You mean 'vulnera santenur'."

"That's also correct. Harry, I'll have you study the 'vulnera santenur' charm until you can cast it very well. I will borrow a training dummy from St. Mungo for you to practice. Then we will test this old theory on Hermione's scar."

"I don't want to hurt her." Healer spells are no joke.

"That's why you will study, practice and practice and I will be right next to you." I nod. "Still, nasty as it is, 'Doholov's special' does not carry long-term mind curses. So, what's left?"

Fleur points at the word 'mudblood' carved on Hermione's arm. "Zat."

I sigh. Bad memories. "Bellatrix did it, a few minutes before we escaped Malfoy Manor to Shell Cottage. That was last April."

"There were no spells?"

"Just short bursts of the cruciatus and that, I think. I only saw the very end of it, but I heard every insane cackle and scream." It's still one of the centerpieces of my nightmares. Fleur puts a gentle hand on my shoulder.

Fleur asks in a low tone. "Do you have any idea what she was using to do eet?"

"No... yes!" I recall Bellatrix throwing her dagger at me, and Dobby taking it in the chest in my place. "The dagger that killled the house-elf I buried at your place."

"And what did you do wizz ze dagger?"

I pull and I pull back at my memory, but it's no use. "I have absolutely no idea."

We go back to Grimmauld Place and Anais sets Hermione up with a saline drip and a few monitoring spells. She then leaves to work.

"What now?" Asks Fleur after Anais is gone.

"I am going to hunt for that dagger. You're going back to your job, I presume."

She shakes her head. "Non."

I raise one eyebrow. "Non?" It's a bit unfair. She is smart and powerful, looks like a supermodel, and still manages to sound cute as a fluffy kitten. Some blokes have all the luck. Come to think of it, there must be something about the Weasleys. There is Fleur, Charlie actually dated Tonks and let her go, the fool, Penny Clearwater, Alicia, Angelina and Hermione. Is there such a thing as a blood curse in reverse?

"'Arry?"

"What?"

"You spaced out for a moment."

"Oh. Sorry." Back on track. "Why not?"

"I've been assigned to ze Hermione contract for now."

"Ah. All right then."

"So, what now?"

"Now we're going to review some horrible memories."

The black family pensieve is a shallow runed bowl of some silvery metal, about a foot and a half wide. I keep it in a blood-keyed vault behind a picture of an old bastard called Orion Black, great-grandfather of Sirius, I think. It's in a posh hidden office next my bedroom. The office itself is warded, so I need to key Fleur to enter. The painting stays frozen until addressed, but that can't be helped. "Open."

He can't refuse my command, but he does have some leeway. "Can I beg for an introduction, Lord Black?"

"Orion Black the first, meet Fleur Weasley, nee Delacour."

His thick eyebrows rise a bit. "Of the Dijon Delacours?"

"Oui, Monsieur." She curtsies, the minx.

"Enchantee, madame." He gives a short bow. "I had dealings with a Florent Delacour. Mutually profitable."

"My great-great grandfazzer, monsieur. 'e was known for 'is business savvy."

He nods. "Does your family still produce that marvelous Bourgogne?"

Fleur actually blushes. "Oui, Monsieur."

Orion nods and turns to me. "You should kill whatever Weasley trash got his grubby paws on her..."

"Shut up." He stops talking. Too close to my own thoughts for comfort, I guess. Surprisingly, Fleur doesn't seem offended.

"'e's has good taste," she replies to my unasked question.

"Open." The picture swishes up, disappearing up a hidden slot, and revealing a black stone square, about twenty by twenty inches, inlaid in gold with the Black family crest. Right palm on the crest, a slight prick and the stone square vanishes. Inside, the three Hallows, a few other trinkets, and the silvery metal bowl, covered in minute runes. I take it out of the safe and lay it gently on the desk.

"So, zis is a pensieve. I've heard of zem, but I'd never seen one."

"Yeah. I've heard they are pretty rare. Please keep the knowledge of this one to yourself." Hidden capabilities can come in handy.

Fleur seems a little shocked. "Of course. Zank you for your trust."

I remove the memory of Dobby's death and place it in the pensieve. Fleur can see I'm uncomfortable, and comes close, holding me in a half-hug. "Just place a finger at the bowl."

The scene unfolds quickly. Holding Dobby's body, his final words, my crying and rocking his body... a few minutes later, I remove the dagger from his chest and set it on the ground, conjure a white shroud, wrap Dobby's body and leave, carrying him. Fleur and I keep our eyes fixed on the dagger. It's an ornate blade, about six inches long, double edged, slightly curved, with a short crosspiece, a single red stone in the middle, and the hilt wrapped in leather. Right before the memory ends, there is a slight shimmer and the dagger disappears. I get out of the memory. "Fuck! Where did it go?"

"Eet probably returned to ze owner. Some magical objects are enchanted to do zat." Fleur turns to me and notices something is wrong. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize..."

"He gave his life for me, Fleur." The pain seems as sharp as always.

I fall to my knees, overcome by grief, and she embraces me. It takes me a couple of minutes to regain my balance. In the end, I inspire deeply, taking in Fleur's enticing smell, which calls attention to the feel of her breasts pressed against my arm and the tickle of her allure. The resulting spike of lust and the effort to keep it under control brings me back to the present and clears my head. "Thank you." I look in her eyes, wondering if she noticed it...

The saucy little smile tells it all. She did. "You're welcome."

I try to end the awkward little moment quickly. "So, presumably, she had the dagger with her when she died."

Fleur glance at the pensieve. "Did you see her during ze final battle?"

That makes me smile. "Oh, yes." I drop the memory in the pensieve. The view is a little hazy, as I was witnessing it through the cloak. It's the close to the final moments. Hermione, Luna and Ginny are fighting Bellatrix to a standstill, while McGonagall, Kingsley amd Slughorn are facing Tom. After Bellatrix nearly kills Ginny, we see Molly squaring away against the dark witch, dueling her for a bit, and then killing her, as the memory ends. Throughout, Bellatrix had the dagger in her left hand.

Fleur has an odd expression when we come out. "Well..."

"What?"

"I 'ad no idea Molly was zis scary." Fleur shudders a bit.

"You knew she had killed Bellatrix, didn't you?"

"Eets one zing to know it, and anozzer to see it ."

I laugh a little, perfectly aware of the bad blood between Molly and Fleur. "Just don't threaten any of her children, and you'll be fine." Fleur still looks bothered. "I'm sure things will change when you give her grandchildren..."

Fleur gives me the oddest of looks, so I shut up. She shakes her head and changes subject. "I can't believe you killed zat monster."

"I got lucky."

She smiles. "No. Not yet."

It looks a little hopeless, to find a dagger lost at the end of the Battle of Hogwarts. It is clearly valuable, and anyone could have taken it. Fleur and I are having lunch at the kitchen and discussing our next move when Narcissa walks in. "Well met, you two."

Fleur just waves, but I actually answer. "Hello, Cissa. Want to join us?"

"What is it?" Frowning at the unfamiliar look of the meal.

"Greek feta salad and blackened chicken breast. The wine is a rose Fleur recommended." I've spent a certain amount of time with Winky and Kreacher, making the Grimmauld menus broader and healthier, with some measure of success. "There is fresh strawberries and cream for dessert."

She replies with a faint sneer. "How exotic. Kreacher."

"Yes, Miss Black?"

"I'll have what they are having."

He bows. "Yes, Miss Black."

A wine glass and cutlery appear in front of Narcissa, and, a minute later, Kreacher pops back with a plate of food. He bows and leaves. Narcissa tastes a bit of the salad, nods then cuts a small piece of chicken and places it in her mouth. Harry and Fleur are covertly watching as Narcissa's eyes turn big and round, a small blush appears in her cheeks and she quickly grabs her wine and takes a big gulp.

"Merlin! What is this?"

Harry and Fleur snicker. "Blackened means covered in cracked pepper and other spices and seared. in high heat," Harry explains.

She takes another sip of her wine, eats some salad and takes another bite of chicken. This time she closes her eyes and appears to savor it. "It's enjoyable, if you're not caught by surprise."

"Sorry."

"From the Muggle world, I presume."

"Ze idea is Cajun, which is related to French immigrants to ze Louisiana region of America. Eet is an interesting cuisine, using local ingredients and often very fiery."

I smile. "Fleur believes that any cooking with French influence near it is worth it. I find she is mostly correct."

Fleur replies with haughty tone. "What do you mean 'mostly'?"

"I have no use for frog legs."

"Ah, oui. I agree. Frogs are potion ingredients, not food."

"The muggle french eat frog legs?" Narcissa asks.

"Yes. Eet is unfortunate. Breaded and deep fried too. Almost as disgusting as 'fish and chips'"

"Hey!"

"I have to agree with Fleur. Fish and chips were my least favorite Hogwarts dish." She takes another bite of the fish. "I meant to ask, what is happening with that muggleborn witch?"

"She is definitely cursed. We're still trying to uncover how. By the way, do you know anything about Bellatrix' dagger?"

"Of course! She never went anywhere without it. Goblin made, ancient. It even has a name, 'Sheol'at', I believe.

"Do you know what happened to it?"

"Of course." Fleur and I lean forward. "It's in the Black Vault. That dagger is a priceless Black heirloom, so it returns to the vault when its owner dies. Grandfather gave it to Bella on her thirteenth nameday."

Fleur and I exchange a look and grin.

=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=

The castle lies in a mountain range in the recently-born country of Slovakia. It's a two-hour drive from Brezno, mostly through a miserable mountain road. The vampire arrived in Brezno the previous night by portkey, and had to wait in a basement for nightfall to finish his journey. A car was waiting for him, to take him up, the driver one of the thralls of the Sept.

Upon arrival, the vampire is taken to the Master. The Master's office is a long room, with a large stone fireplace, weapons and landscape paintings, a large bookcase, and a dark wood desk at one end. The Master is sitting on a high-backed chair behind the desk, apparently busy with a large pile of loose parchment mixed with muggle documents. The vampire waits to be noticed, standing stiffly at the doorway. After a couple of minutes the Master lifts his head and looks at him. "Ah, Aziz. Welcome." He points at one of the chairs on the other side of the desk.

Aziz sits at the edge of the chair and waits to be addressed. It doesn't take long. "What news?"

"The team sent to take care of the Malfoy matter failed, Master."

"That is unfortunate. Anything else?"

"Harry Potter got involved. He appeared at the scene less than a minute after the attempt failed. He was accompanied by a Veela, who works for the Goblins as a curse breaker."

"Do you know the identity of this Veela?"

"No, Master. Lady Fawler was present at the attempt and recognized her from her family's dealings with Gringotts, but she doesn't recall the name."

"I would know the identity of this Veela. This is troublesome."

"Yes, Master. Any further instructions?"

"Further attempts on Malfoy will be foolhardy. We might need to neutralize Potter, so information on his current status is required as well. Proceed with consolidating our operation on the Isles. I'll be sending a group of thralls and another member to support your activities. Also, find contacts with the remnants of the Dark Lord's forces."

"Potter recently disposed of the most powerful of their group that was still at large in the Isles."

The Master nods slowly. "You may go."

Aziz stands up and bows deeply before leaving."Your will, Master."