AN - Sorry for the delay getting this out. It's been written for a while, along with several more chapters that are awaiting edits. I have been working with my beta to get things edited and it took longer than I had hoped it would. Story is still being continued! Enjoy
Harry scooped up his belongings, hoping to be out of the dungeon before the professor had a chance to mess with him any further. Typical of the potions class, a portion of the day had been spent making his life miserable. Today, it had been more jabs about not fighting his own battles, in reference to his not competing in the Triwizard Tournament, and it culminated in Snape separating the trio from each other in order to "help with concentration."
It hadn't all been bad though. Ron and Hermione were placed in distant corner spots, closer to the dungeon door. Harry had been given a spot directly in front of Snape's desk which, under normal circumstances, was the last place in the world he wanted to be.
Class had not, however, been normal. About ten minutes before the end of class, the dungeon door slammed open and Karkaroff burst in, making a beeline straight to the side of Snape's desk. In deeply concerned and hushed tones, Karkaroff tried to talk to Snape about something on his forearm. It was difficult to make out what exactly was being said, but Harry definitely heard Karkaroff imply that Snape had been avoiding him.
It left his mind spinning with possibilities. There had been rumors that the Headmaster was involved in the dark arts. The idea that Snape had ties too, while unsurprising to Harry, could prove to be the path to getting Snape dismissed from the school.
"Potter," Snape drawled, just as Harry was turning to follow the rest of the students filing out, "a word." Harry shook his head at Ron and turned back to the professor. He'd have to catch up later.
"Yes, Professor?" Harry did his best to sound respectful, but by the look on the professors face, he had fallen short. He stood there for a moment, seeming to size the boy up before continuing.
"I know that the whole world appears to pander to your wants and needs," Snape started. Harry opened his mouth to object but was cut short by the professor, continuing sharper than before, "but you should know that to me, you're just a lucky boy who has no respect for the rules."
"I'm not sure wh-" Harry began, but was again cut short.
"Boomslang skin, knotgrass, powdered horn of Bicorn...you are more foolish than you look if you think I don't keep track of my private stores," he snarled. Harry, this time, found himself unprepared to respond. He recognized all three as ingredients for polyjuice potion, but hadn't used the stuff since his second year at Hogwarts. It didn't exactly taste like butterbeer.
"I didn't-" Snape didn't care.
"I'm not interested in your excuses and lies. Know that if you break into my office again, you'll be liable to find yourself spilling your darkest secrets in front of the school. Now, get out of my class." Snape took a seat behind his desk and picked up a book, pointedly ignoring Harry.
It wasn't until Harry was outside the classroom that he even remembered the scene Karkaroff had made. Someone was breaking into Snape's office to make polyjuice potion and the professor had been ducking away from Karkaroff. Harry wanted to know why.
Fleur sat at the edge of her bed, her fingers twisting in her hands as she stared at the closet. Papa had insisted that she return home for the night, that it would help clear her head. While it felt good to be back in her room again, that was about the only thing that felt good.
Odilon, their house-elf, had led her to her room and informed her that they would have a guest this evening. She would need to change for dinner. It was something that was happening with more and more frequency since the Ministry began laying the groundwork for their own program, similar to the American one. She'd spent the last half-hour trying to focus on something to change into, but her mind kept drifting to the second task.
It was hard to think of herself as someone who couldn't keep her sister safe. At Beauxbatons, no one messed with her sister, that was a fact no more questioned than the color of the sky. The first boy that had tried to corner Gabby in a hallway spent the night in the infirmary while they regrew the bones in both of his legs. She had spent several weeks cleaning rancid cauldrons for it, but it had been worth it.
Yet, when it mattered, when her sister was stuck underwater, she couldn't cut it. She had spent several weeks trying to perfect the Bubble-Head Charm, to no avail. She either produced bubbles that were thin and fragile but easy to see through, or thick and strong but hard to see through.
On top of that, she hadn't known just what she needed to find once things got started. That was the one part of the task she had not been able to figure out. Seeing Brad so unprepared hadn't done her nerves any favors, either. When the cannon went off, she jumped in, produced her bubble just a little too thick to see clearly, and started swimming. When the Grindylows came, she hadn't seen them coming, and the first thing they did was rupture her bubble, which was, of course, not thick enough to withstand their unexpected attack.
That had been a tough pill to swallow, getting hauled out of the water by the soldiers in that boat. She knew she'd failed, but she'd managed to keep herself together. She could make it to the medical tent and let her emotional dam burst from there.
Hearing that her sister was the objective, however, had wrecked her. From inside the tent she could clearly hear what that British Ministry wizard, Bagman, was saying. When she heard him mention her failure, it stung. When he mentioned that her sister was under that lake, she'd fallen apart.
She shrieked, begged and pleaded to be let out of that damned tent, to get her sister. She'd tried to tell them that she didn't care if she didn't score any points for the tournament, or even if it cost her every bit of magic that she possessed. It wasn't until later that she realized that she'd probably slipped into French in her panic and they had most likely not understood a word she said. Fight as she might, they kept her on the bed.
Or at least they did until Brad arrived carrying Gabby. It was like something out of a cheesy muggle film, watching him step into the tent, holding her in his arms. For a terrifying second, she had looked limp and Fleur thought that her sister was dead. Fleur didn't remember making any conscious decision to run and grab her, but when the girl had coughed it just happened. Brad was gone before she had thought to thank him.
Swallowing hard against the lump in her throat, Fleur wiped the threat of a tear from her eye. Hugging herself, she stood and crossed the room to her closet, trying to focus on the fact that her sister was definitely okay, and that she needed to find a dress to wear.
Somewhere downstairs, she heard a thump and Gabby shrieking. As soon as the adrenaline hit her system, she realized that the shriek had turned into a rolling giggle. Probably mama tickling her, she was always trying to get tickled. Fleur yanked a dress out of the closet. It was an ankle length, deep blue gown that her grandmother had said matched her eyes. One of her most comfortable ones. She took that and a delicate necklace that had been made by her grandfather, a master gem cutter, and went to the bathroom to get ready.
Her hair didn't take long to put up. It was one of the blessings of her Veela heritage, it always cooperated. In only a few minutes she was looking presentable. She blinked her eyes in the mirror a couple of times, trying to convince herself that the faint puffiness wasn't noticeable. When she heard the creaking door of her papa's office open, she stepped out of the bathroom.
"Fleur, my angel," Papa said. It was how he always greeted her and she smiled at the familiar salutation. He embraced her in a tight, comforting hug, and lead her downstairs.
As the evening progressed, Brad got the sense that Henri really meant it when he said that he wanted to get through the business. The wizard was sharp and had a mind for detail, asking intelligent questions and clarifying anything he didn't understand right away, which wasn't often.
The man had even arranged to have General Thomas call the office, allowing Brad to clarify what he was and was not allowed to disclose to the French official. There wasn't much he was barred from mentioning. No operation details, of course, and current force readiness was off limits. But pretty much everything else was on the table. No doubt JSOC was eager to have an ally in this endeavor.
Most of what Mr. Delacour was interested in involved interaction between JSOC and MACUSA. They spent a fair amount of time discussing the current composition of Ansible squads. With the exception of the SF teams like Reaper, they had started placing Aurors as the second-in-command of each squad of infantrymen.
As confidence in MACUSA grew throughout the United States' magical community, the ranks of Aurors swelled as well. It was to a point that the Auror force was now inadequate, instead of being nearly depleted. Aurors were now able to make regular patrols through magical communities and station garrisons in many of the mid-sized towns, along with all of the large cities.
The more experienced Aurors were placed in the squad-level infantry command structure. The result was a complete hybrid at its core, a little SWAT mixed with military special operations, muggle with magic. It not only enhanced their ability to effectively execute assignments in a policing role, but it overall left the squad much more efficient.
The Auror assigned to a squad had access to a wide array of spells, charms, curses, and other useful tools that had not yet been technologically translated. If the squad was grouped together close enough, a good Auror could erect a ward strong enough to take the blast from a Hellfire. They had yet to discover all of the useful benefits to having a wizard on the team, but so far it had been a boon to the system in general.
"I appreciate the information you have been able to provide, Captain." Mr. Delacour leaned back in his chair as his deep voice rumbled.
"Of course," Brad replied, a little relieved. He was never fond of being debriefed, even if it was a subject of interest to him. "Is there anything else I can answer for you, sir?"
"Nothing business related, Brad," he said with a smile. "I have arranged for you to stay the night. For the remainder of the evening, I insist that you call me Henri, as our business is complete."
"Yes, sir," Brad said reflexively. His mind was still wrapping around the you'll be staying for night part when he saw the faint frown on Mr. Delacours' face. "Henri," he corrected.
"Much better," replied Henri as he stood. Brad followed suit. "The ladies are all likely downstairs." Henri eyed Brad thoughtfully. "The guest room is down at the end of the hall. There is a change of more comfortable clothes in there for you."
"I appreciate it, sir," Brad said, "but that isn't necessary."
"Of course it isn't," he chuckled, "but I think you will find it easier to relax when you are not in your work attire. I would also appreciate it," he walked to a table near Brad and rapped his knuckles on a box sitting atop it, "if you would place your firearm in here for the evening. I can assure you my home is quite safe. We will be downstairs when you are ready." The door creaked as he opened it and stepped out.
"Understood," Brad said, crossing the distance to the box and staring at it for a moment. Being he was on a diplomatic assignment of sorts and not even in the same country as the target he was protecting, he figured he should be alright for the night.
"Fleur, mon ange," his voice rumbled from the hall. He tried to ignore the butterflies in his stomach at the mention of her name and instead tried to focus on their footsteps disappearing down the stairs. The last time he had seen Fleur was when he was getting her sister to the medical tent. She'd been hysterical, though he couldn't blame her. He'd been hoping she was doing okay.
"How do you work?" Brad murmured to the box. He could see no obvious openings or instructions. He ran his fingers along the smooth surface along the top of the box, but nothing happened. When he tried to pick up the box to examine it further, he found it was too heavy to lift.
"You must press your hands to opposite sides of the box," a voice said behind Brad, causing him to jump. He hadn't heard anyone enter the room. When he glanced behind himself, a house-elf was standing there. "For as much work as he does with muggles, he sometimes forgets that your everyday items are not the same as his."
"Thanks," Brad said, pressing his hands to the box as instructed. The top opened, revealing a space easily large enough for the handgun, plus the duty belt and thigh holster he carried it on. Sighing, he removed it all and laid it neatly in the box. "So, he just keeps this around for when pesky muggles bring guns into the house?" Brad asked the house-elf as he turned around, curious about the device.
"Not quite," the elf replied, turning toward the hallway and beckoning Brad to follow. Brad had to hurry to catch up, as the house-elf apparently had better things to do. "Anyone who opens the box will receive their own space. It is a convenient way to secure valuables."
"Got it." Brad looked down the stairs and into the foyer as they passed. As he glanced up at the chandelier, hanging from the vaulted ceiling of the foyer, he wondered how much a home like this must cost. Paintings of beautiful landscapes hung on the walls, along with a family portrait, and at the end of the hall, beneath the window, there was a case containing a bust of a unicorn head.
"This is the primary guest suite," the elf said, gesturing to an open door to the left. They had walked all the way to the end of the hall, not a short walk by any measurement. "Clothes are on the bed."
"Thanks, uh-" Brad said, realizing he hadn't asked the creature his name. "What do you go by?"
"Odilon." With a crisp snap of his fingers, the house-elf disappeared. The crack wasn't even loud enough to echo.
"Cool," Brad said to himself, turning and stepping into the guest suite...Jesus, it was enormous! He entered the room the rest of the way. To his left there was a walk-in closet and along the same wall there was a mahogany desk. Straight ahead from the door laid a sliding glass door, which stepped out to a private balcony that overlooked the French countryside. Along the right wall of the room was a bed he could easily sleep sideways on without realizing. Finally, there was a private bathroom that looked like it could fit his bed in it. Damn!
Exiting the bathroom, he looked at the clothes laid out on the bed. A navy blue dress shirt and black slacks, along with a polished pair of shoes, all in his size. He wondered if they had some magical way of telling what sizes he wore, or if someone at JSOC had given them his file.
Once dressed, he checked himself over in the bathroom mirror, adjusting a few things until he was satisfied. He couldn't remember a time when he'd worn anything civilian that wasn't jeans and a t-shirt. Looking at himself in nicer clothes, he could see himself getting comfortable in them.
Deciding he was presentable enough to head downstairs, he stepped out into the hall. Now that he wasn't trying to keep pace with the turbo-stepped house-elf, he could take a little more time to appreciate the journey. He took a peek through the open door across the hall from his own. Though he hadn't thought it possible, the room was bigger than his own.
A bed that was easily as big as his own laid against the far wall in the neatly kept room. Above the bed, a painting of lilies shifted in an unseen wind and he could of sworn, for at least a split second, a floral scent wafted his way. He glanced across the room to the open closet, where he saw a dress that stood out in his mind. It was the dress Fleur had worn to the Yule Ball.
Brad ducked his head back out of the room and started briskly down the hall, suddenly worried about getting caught snooping. When he made it to the stairs, he started down them, trying not to make any noise, lest someone discover he had been poking his head into a room.
He made it about halfway down the stairs when a small, silver-blonde rocket jumped from behind the stairwell. Brad caught himself reaching for his thigh, where he would typically wear his sidearm. Damn, I need to relax.
"Oh, alors c'est toi!" The child spoke rapid-fire and wore a look on her face that seemed to be a mixture of glee and maybe a little annoyance. "C'est tellement énervant que Fleur ne se taise pas à propos de toi et-" The girl was cut off by a shriek of rage from just down the hall.
"Gabrielle!" the familiar voice rang out, an octave higher than he was used to hearing it. "Va t'asseoir toi petite souris!" For her part, Gabrielle rolled her eyes at Brad exaggeratedly and started down the hall in the opposite direction.
Brad jogged the rest of the way down the stairs, hoping to meet up with Fleur in the foyer. To his surprise, she was just slipping down the hall after Gabrielle. It was her mother that was standing in the foyer to greet him.
"Good evening, Bradley," she smiled, a perfect row of teeth showing. She was tall and stunning in her own right, wearing a silver gown and high heels that matched.
"Brad is fine, ma'am," Brad replied. Bradley seemed childish to him. "It's nice to meet you."
"You as well," she dipped her head in a slight bow of deference. "I would razzer go by Apolline, if you don' mind. Ma'am makes me feel like my mozzer." She smiled again and beckoned him to follow her. They went down the hall and Brad took in the view.
The walls had a modest number of portraits, distant relatives he assumed. Mixed throughout were paintings. Oceans, mountains, rolling hills...though Brad had never been much for art, he could appreciate the beauty. As they reached the end of the hall, Brad returned his attention to what was ahead of him.
The dining room was spacious and as neatly decorated as the rest of the house had been. Its light blue walls were home to similar paintings, along with displays of china and busts of historical figures. At the east end of the room housed what appeared to be a well stocked bar, and on the west, behind Henri, was a fireplace that lit the room in a comforting glow. The far wall was almost entirely made of windows and a set of glass doors that overlooked a river.
"It is a wonderful view, non?" Apolline asked, following his gaze to the windows. "That is the Gardon river, and the town across the river is Remoulins." Sure enough, across the river was a small town. The view was incredible.
"You guys have an impressive home," Brad said, stating the obvious elephant in the room. Or at least, obvious to him. The dining room easily had room for a dozen or more guests. Instead, a modest table sat in the center of the room with place settings for five.
"We have been very fortunate," Henri said by way of agreement. "This property has been in the Delacour line since the late seventeen-hundreds. The house has been touched up by each generation. I may be biased, but I'm inclined to agree, the view is wonderful."
"No kidding," Brad muttered to himself, trying to picture the mansion being cobbled together. It looked nothing like The Burrow and he wondered if it was a matter of the Delacour's taking the time to make sure everything flowed right, or if the process was just difficult and complex.
"Please, have a seat." Henri gestured to one of the place settings, right next to Fleur. Brad had been so focused on his surroundings that he hadn't noticed her sitting there. She was bolt upright and facing away from him, toward the windows. Henri was standing at the head of the table and Apolline was taking a seat to his right. Gabrielle was sitting across from Fleur and appeared to be studying her sister for some kind of reaction. Brad moved to take a seat, feeling a little awkward.
"Tu n'es pas excité-" Gabrielle started, staring at her sister, but she was cut short by her mother.
"Gabrielle, sweetheart," Apolline said sweetly, "it's impolite to speak French in front of our guest, he cannot understand it."
Gabrielle opened her mouth as though to protest, but when her eyes met Brad's, she seemed to think twice and aborted. For her part, Fleur remained silent. When Brad conspicuously turned toward her, she spared him a glance and half a smile, then returned to staring at her plate.
"Well," Henri smiled broadly, "we're all here." Apolline smiled back warmly at her husband, grabbing his hand with a gentle squeeze. Brad watched the simple display of affection and only then did he realize why he'd been feeling a little uncomfortable. He had almost no experience with family gatherings. He had no real recollection of his own family and the majority of Spartans were the same way. Even the adults in Task Force Ansible didn't exactly bring their families to the deployment area.
"Odilon," Apolline called out gently. The elf appeared next to her with soft crack. "I believe we are ready for our meal, thank you." The elf bowed slightly but said nothing. He disappeared just a quickly and was barely gone for a moment before the food appeared on their plates.
"I could get used to that," Brad mused as a thick, rib-eye steak and baked potato appeared on his plate. Henri chuckled and as Brad glanced around at the others, he noticed that they all were eating something else.
"I hope you don't mind," Apolline said with a gesture toward Brads' steak, "We were planning on Ratatouille tonight and Fleur thought you might like something with a little more meat."
"Not at all," Brad smiled at the thoughtfulness. He spared a glance at Fleur beside him, who was pointedly staring at her own dish. He was close enough to her to see that her face had flushed a shade pinker. "I love steak."
"Excellent," Henri replied aloud, picking up his own fork. "As the saying goes, dig in."
For a short time, the meal carried on in a semi-comfortable silence, each of them enjoying their meals. The steak was medium-rare, perfectly done and expertly seasoned. Brad didn't recall having a better steak in his entire life. He did notice, with a little embarrassment, that he had finished his entire meal before anyone else had made it halfway through theirs.
"Zat was fast," Gabrielle exclaimed as Brad tried to set his fork down without attracting attention. Before he could reply, Apolline interjected with a horrified look on her face.
"Oh, I am so sorry," she said, "I will have Odilon make you another."
"What?" Brad asked, confused for a second. "No, that won't be necessary, this was plenty." Brad patted his abdomen for emphasis, but Apolline didn't look convinced.
"It really is no trouble-" she began, but Henri put a hand on her arm.
"He's a soldier, they eat fast," Fleur said, speaking for the first time since dinner had started. Brad was glad to hear her talk, though she still seemed uncomfortable for some reason.
"I see," a look of understanding crossed her. "Henri was much the same a long time ago."
The conversation shifted to Henri's past as the French contribution to a multinational Auror task force, which is part of what made him such an ideal candidate for leading the French in their attempt to create an Ansible program. Brad glanced back over to Fleur a couple more times, but she seemed to be in her own world and the rest of the family kept him busy in the conversation, so he couldn't really break away to try and talk to her.
"The task force only lasted for a couple years, mind you," Henri said. "Most days, it seems harder to get our magical governments cooperating than the muggle ones."
"Yeah," Brad agreed, at least with the idea that muggle governments had a propensity toward strife. He didn't have much experience with magical governments, but if the British were to be any example, things were pretty isolationist.
"The International Confederation of Wizards set us up as an attempt to spark more intergovernmental relationships. It worked, sort of. To this day, I remain in touch with many of the other Aurors from the task force. The governmental cooperation left a little to be desired, however."
"What were you guys after?" Brad asked. A task force wasn't usually cheap and they weren't typically formed over nothing.
"Dark wizards were the primary target, but we spent a lot of time going after high-threat dark creatures. Giants, werewolves, that sort." Henri replied.
"They had a particularly nasty start too," Apolline chimed in. Henri, for his part, seemed to know this was coming and, however reluctantly, filled in the rest of the story.
"Yes, our first assignment was to find the location of a settlement of trolls that had been terrorizing a small village east of Geneva. By all accounts there were only supposed to be half a dozen or so." Henri sighed, his eyes drifting deep in thought as he remembered this time.
"I still 'ave a hard time believing zose fools," Apolline muttered.
"It turned out that there were not half a dozen trolls, but over a dozen giants," Henri sighed. "The battle only lasted a few minutes, though it felt like much longer. We almost didn't make it out."
"But papa got all of 'is friends out of zere," Gabby announced proudly. Henri smiled at her and she continued. "'e got an award from ze ICW, too."
"Yes, yes," Henri sighed, looking a little uncomfortable. Brad suspected there was a lot more to the story than his family knew. That wasn't the kind of thing to just point out, though. Battle was violent, and meritorious deeds were not typically dinner-table friendly.
"Well, is everyone finished?" Apolline asked, looking around the table. Brad took a glance and noticed that everyone had clear plates. There were general murmurs of assent.
"Excellent," Henri declared. "Dinner is excused-" Henri had barely finished the word when Fleur scooted from her seat and gracefully stormed from the room. Her father didn't react much to it, just continued after the pause. "Gabby, dear, let's get ready for bed."
She huffed a little but didn't really complain, just followed her father out of the dining room. Brad was left alone with Apolline, who was beginning to collect plates. Brad stood and began helping.
"We already ask so much of Odilon," Apolline spoke, answering a question Brad hadn't thought to ask. "The least I can do is collect the dishes after a meal." She gave him a smile to thank him for assisting her.
"That's a good attitude to have," Brad said, thinking about S.P.E.W. "I know someone who would love you for it."
"It's nozzing," Apolline replied, leading him toward the kitchen.
"So, what's going on with Fleur?" Brad asked, deciding not to beat around the bush. She'd been pretty introverted for the entire meal, bordering on rude. He wasn't offended as much as concerned. She didn't strike him as the type to hate spending time with her family.
"She is 'aving a tough time with the second task, I fear." Apolline stacked the dishes into the sink, then placed her hands onto the counter, supporting herself against it while she thought a moment. Brad stepped beside her and placed his stack of dishes in the sink.
"That hit her pretty hard, huh?" Brad could understand it. He himself was a disappointed with his performance. He'd been caught flat footed and it threw him off balance. At least he had the excuse of being an ignorant muggle.
"Yes, I fear it did." She chewed on her lip in worry and seemed to be at odds with herself, warring over whether to speak about something or not. Eventually she turned and sat against the counter to look at Brad directly. "It is not easy, being a Veela girl. She grew up beautiful, but more or less normal as a child. She had friends, enemies, drama, all of ze normal things. When she...became an adolescent, life changed very quickly. Her allure caused boys to drool over her, even at inappropriate ages. Girls were jealous, hated her."
"She seems to have come out of it stronger," Brad said during a break in her speaking. She smiled wistfully and continued.
"She rose to ze occasion. Excellent marks in all of her classes, excellent performance in her sports...she 'as proven every day zat she is not just a pretty face, and she prides herself on taking care of Gabrielle. Of making sure zat she does not go through the same things."
"A worthy goal," Brad said, sensing where this was going.
"She is taking 'er failure particularly hard. We 'ave tried to tell 'er otherwise, but she is convinced zat she failed her sister. Que quand il importait vraiment elle était un échec."
Brad furrowed his brow as she slipped into French, but if she noticed, she didn't say anything about it. "Has she always been good about protecting her sister?" Brad asked, sure that he already knew the answer.
"Oh, yes," Apolline laughed. "She spent a few weeks in detention after disparaître a boy's legs for trying to corner Gabby. Z'ere 'as been more z'an zat, of course."
Brad had no idea what "disparaître" meant, but it didn't sound particularly good. He liked it, briefly wondering what it would be like to have a sibling to protect.
"She 'as a favorite spot," Apolline said after a pause. "Take a left out of ze dining room doors, you'll hear a waterfall. I'm certain you'll find her there."
Brad stood in place for a moment and Apolline furrowed her brow at him, wondering at what was on his mind. "Why do you all trust me so much? You've just met me, and here I am, staying the night at your house..." Brad trailed off.
"Henri and I trust Fleur's taste in people absolutely," Apolline stated matter-of-factly. "And Fleur can handle herself. Besides, Henri could turn you inside out if you hurt 'er. Good night." She smiled at him sweetly and left the kitchen.
"Right," Brad muttered to himself, preferring not only to treat Fleur kindly, but to keep his organs on the inside of his body. Henri didn't strike him as the type to showboat, and Brad believed that he was a capable fighter.
Brad made his way out to the dining room again, taking a moment to appreciate just how nicely the home flowed together. Everything looked like it belonged. When he made it to the doors, he was careful to just touch the handle. The door was made almost entirely of neatly polished glass and he didn't want to be responsible for any smudges.
The dusk air was comfortably warm, a definite contrast to the cold weather at Hogwarts. He could see why everyone had been so glum when they stepped off of the carriage. He watched the river and listened to the sound of splashing water in the darkness, distant but audible.
He turned and followed a small stone path to the back of the house. It was, of course, beautifully decorated. There was a patio table with chairs enough to seat the entire Delacour family for an outside meal. From the table, you could still see the river. Throughout the backyard were bushes, flowers and trees of all types.
Brad couldn't resist imagining himself, sitting at that table in the cool morning air, watching the river flow as he ate his eggs, bacon, and a bowl of fruit. Smelling the flowers as they bloomed, enjoying the heat as the sun began to warm things up.
He shook the thought from his head and headed for the far side of the yard, following the stone path to a gate that led into the woods. The moonlight did its best to illuminate the way for him, but as the woods thickened, things got dark.
Still, he could follow the sound of the waterfall. As he got closer the sound of crashing water grew louder. Not uncomfortably so, but enough that one could drown out their thoughts and just relax. He could see why Fleur enjoyed this place. After a few minutes walk, following a slight path, he reached a small clearing.
The waterfall wasn't particularly big, but it was enough. The pool of water beneath it was wide, sparkling in the moonlight. He could make out the silhouette of Fleur. She was sitting on a small bench beside the water, her toes dipped in as she swayed her legs back and forth, tracing some unseen pattern with the ripples.
Brad lost track of time, standing there and watching her be at peace. For a time, he'd almost convinced himself that he shouldn't interrupt her. It was short lived, however. He wasn't sure when he would get a chance to talk to her alone again. He took a deep breath and stepped out from the trees.
"Heya, stranger," he called out to greet her. Her feet shot up underneath her as she whirled around to face him, but as soon as she recognized him, she relaxed.
"I didn't hear you coming," Fleur remarked as he got closer. He could make out her features now. Evidently she had first gone up to her room to change out of her dinner dress before heading out here. She was now wearing a pair of sleep pants and a t-shirt, leaving him feeling a little overdressed.
"Sorry," he said, and meaning it. He hadn't meant to startle her. "Old habits, you know?"
"Oui." She scooted to the side of the bench and patted the spot next to her. The bench wasn't particularly long so there wasn't much space between them, but it didn't bother him and she didn't seem to mind either. They sat there for a while, just listening to the waterfall.
He had a difficult time figuring out just how to broach the subject. Hey, Fleur, your mom said your kinda depressed seemed like it wouldn't go too well. He wasn't upset when she spoke first.
"I can't believe I failed so badly," she said, barely audible over the sound of crashing water. It was a crack in her dam.
"Fleur, no one is perfect," Brad replied with a half smile. "I should know, I-" That was all of the prodding it took before that crack turned to a rupture. Fleur turned toward him, tucking her feet beneath her and hugging herself.
"You don't understand, though," she said earnestly, and the words poured out of her. Rapid, almost fervent. "I have always had to be perfect. Everyone, everyone, told me that everything I accomplished was because of my looks. My friends, my teachers, all of them. I had to fight so hard to prove I wasn't just a pretty face. I had a tough time but I got by. And then Gabrielle gets to school and I couldn't just watch her go through the same thing, so I fought to keep her safe and I was there, every single time. Every time someone even had an idea that they wanted to bully her, I was there and I stopped it. I kept her safe, all these years I kept her safe-" her voice started to break a little and he could see glistening streaks down her cheeks in the moonlight, but she only seemed to speak faster, "-and she looked up to me! I know I'm not supposed to care but I loved it, that she thought so highly of me, and I kept her safe for so long...until it mattered. At the Quidditch Cup I was so stupid to leave my wand and we were almost taken! And we were so lucky you were there! And then the second task, mon dieu, when it really mattered I just failed. There isn't any getting around it, I just couldn't cut it."
She stopped and took several, shaking breaths. Brad opened his mouth but she beat him to it.
"And my family, they've been so kind about it. Too kind, I mean, if it had really fallen to me to rescue her, Gabby would be dead right now. I would too, if there hadn't been someone there to pull me out of the water, and they just act like it is nothing! And Gabrielle acts like nothing has changed, and I just, I don't get it!" She stopped again, breathing quickly, and buried her face in her hands.
"Everyone fails, Fleur," Brad said, remembering a litany of examples where he had done just that.
"You don't," she said quietly, rubbing her eyes and looking at him. "You've been trained to win, always." Brad couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him, mostly at the surprise. She pulled back like he'd stung her and he raised his hands in appeasement.
"I couldn't tell you the number of times I've failed at things. They don't train us not to fail," Brad said, "though, admittedly, that is the goal. No, they train us not to give up after we fail."
"Hmm." Fleur didn't seem convinced, but she sat back, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her chin on them, ready to continue listening.
"It's true. There's a famous saying in my circle, that no plan survives contact with the enemy, and it is absolute fact. You can plan and train and prepare until you can do it blindfolded, and when it comes time to actually get to work, something you couldn't account for, some x-factor, goes wrong and messes the whole thing up. It isn't about being perfect, or about always succeeding, it's about adapting to your failures and pressing on."
"So," Fleur started, "I should have-"
"No," Brad said, already knowing where her mind was going. "Hindsight is only good to a certain extent. Knowing what you knew then, prepared as you were then, you did your best. Now you know the details and you are using them to beat yourself up, and you shouldn't. Use that failure, look at where things went wrong and how you can fix them for next time, and then move on."
"Just like that?" She cocked her head skeptically.
"Just like that," he agreed. "Fleur, you could yell and scream at yourself until you're blue in the face, but how is that going to help you do things better in the future? You said it yourself, no one in your family blames you or thinks you have done something terrible."
"What if they're wrong?" Fleur asked.
"They aren't. You're being too hard on yourself and you shouldn't be. Your failures are just bumps in the road, as long as you do something about them. Learn from them so that you don't make the same mistake again.
Fleur sighed giving each of her eyes a swipe and turning back to face the pool of water again. "I'm being too hard on myself," she repeated.
"Yeah," Brad agreed. "Things will always go wrong. Just learn from it and move on."
"Thank you for coming and talking to me," she said, turning her body to face the water and then resting against him, her head propped on his shoulder.
"Anytime," he replied. They sat there for a short moment.
"Speaking of time," Fleur sat up again and Brad silently cursed himself. "It is late. We should get to bed, I'm sure we will head to school early in the morning." She stood and stretched.
"Sure thing." Brad followed suit and let Fleur take the lead as they headed back to the Chateau, trusting her knowledge of the woods. She slowed down to hook an arm through his and lean against him as they walked.
"So, how do you like my spot?" she asked after a few moments.
"It's beautiful," he said. He wanted to mention that she was too, but couldn't think of anything that wasn't sickeningly cheesy, so he decided against it. They walked comfortably, arm in arm, all the way back to the Chateau.
Inside, the house was quiet and Brad wondered if everyone was asleep. They headed quietly up the stairs. "I feel better, thanks for coming to find me," Fleur commented halfway up.
"Of course, I was glad to see you again." They made it to the top of the stairs and both turned to the left. Brad remembered with a start that she was right across the hall from him. Pushing that thought from his mind, he escorted her to her door.
"Good night, Brad," she said, pushing up onto her toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. She turned and was in her room before he had the mental ability to reply.
"Good night," he called after her, immediately cringing at how loud he'd said it. He stood there for a moment longer, just letting his cheek tingle where she'd kissed him, then turned to the guest suite. Inside, a set of pajamas lay on the bed, black pants and an olive drab shirt. They even got me dark colors.
He changed, slid into the incredibly comfortable bed and lay his head back onto the soft pillow. His cheek still tingled when he fell asleep.