A/N: Its a new year and I'd like to start it off with the fic that started it all. I have risen from the land of the... well, unalive in order to deliver you this.
I present Chapter 9 of Fate is a Whimsical Mistress.
Not cleaned
Shores of the Great Lake
12:19pm
4th year
"Any inztruments you pley?" Fleur had asked Harry, leaning back against a massive boulder on the shore of the Great Lake. The ground was warm due to a charm placed on a blanket they were sitting on. Her fuzzy coat and sweat pants were inscribed with fine runes that trapped body heat more efficiently than the average clothing article. A hot cup of tea between her hands, palms enjoying the mellow warmth fogging the rim, she examined the interesting shapes she could make out of the steam it smoked out.
"Instruments?" Harry paused for a second to grab another piece of freshly baked bread, courtesy of Gabby Delacour. "The triangle. I play the triangle." Harry smiled before biting down on the piece of baked dough. He looked up to a cloudy afternoon sky, adjusting his hair to get a better view. Harry sat in front of Fleur on the blanket. Their eyes trying in vain to avoid contact but a glimpse here and there could be stolen in time between the two champions.
"Ze triangle? I would have guessed flute or ze violin. But triangle? Really?" Fleur asked before taking a sip of her tea, letting the warmness spread throughout her body.
"And what's so funny about that? I happen to play a wicked triangle!" Harry puffed his chest out with pride he couldn't muster. He was not lying, in elementary all he could play was the triangle thanks to his cousin and his gang of miniature crooks.
Fleur smiled a moment before reaching for the bread, courtesy of Gabby Delacour.
Harry mindlessly recalled the silent horrors that took place in his past. How the Big D would intimidate him into a corner to exact his ill-tempered habitual threats.
'If you ever make a fool out of me, even in this blasted music class, I would rip open another scar on your freak head. Understand me?' Dudley would continue on his terror until the Music instructor would enter the room. Harry had the choice to play any of the instruments he wanted but a deadly aura flared from Dudley's eyes as he approached anything but the dull little triangle.
Memories filed through Harry's mind. How Dudley would still suck eggs even if the instructor gave him a one on one lesson on how to play the piano; how Harry snickered at the sight of his cousin grinding his rusty gears to play the simple tune of twinkle twinkle little star. Dudley heard this and of course complained to his dear parents that Harry's freak magic made him tone deaf.
You can imagine what comes after that.
Harry extended his hand to reach for the bread, courtesy of Gabby Delacour.
Both champions' hands bumped into each other. Fleur twitched. It wasn't because the contact was unwanted, it was because of what she saw that shook her entire being.
A sudden flood of images of what Harry was remembering coursed through her mind like a dam bursting open. His abuse under the "care" of his relatives. The whales he calls uncle and cousin plus the giraffe-necked aunt. The neglect he had suffered through his entire childhood. The seemingly impossible odds life gave him. She viewed Harry's entire life in the fraction it took her to blink.
Harry suddenly became lightheaded. His breath became a bit haggard and his eyes darted left to right multiple times. It felt like something was taken from him forcefully and without warning. His head began to pulse and his scar was slightly irritated. He placed his palm on the thunderbolt on his forehead and the sensation faded not long after.
Fleur had a mile long stare as she processed what had happened to her mind and thinking, how her perception towards the friend in front of her had changed in the fraction it took her to catch her breath.. What had happened to her? Why did it happen? How can you kill two whales and a giraffe without getting caught? She watched as Harry held his forehead and threw his head back with an exasperated sigh accompanied by groan from his throat.
"I feel a bit nauseous." Harry fell back on the blanket, letting his eyes take in the cloudy afternoon of that December day. His mind had been sent through a funnel tube while in a blender, his jumbled organs began doing hula-hoops. A projectile threatened to let loose his lunch but mustering all the grit and self-control he had, he held his food down. Pictures and frames of events that were not his to find out, not his business to know were flooding in after his stomach had settled.
Not Fleur, please not her.
Sweat tried to form from his brow but was replaced by a lone snow drop from the unexpected light drizzle of frozen rain. Harry smiled despite the weighted pumping of his blood across his body that seemingly all went to his head. Snow. A heavy particle of condensed water without the properties of the liquid with its color married with purity. A wonderland filled with all things good and prim that even after all the troubles and plights his life has been through, the snowfall from the sky always brought him joy. The world is not as dreary as it seemed regardless of the condemned fate humans seem to always drive it to.
His head had cleared, the feeling of puking and dizziness seemed to fade away with every drop of snow softly pelting his pale face.
Fleur had sat silently, keeping to herself as her mind tried to make sense of what just happened. Maybe a burst of accidental magic, spurred on by the emotions that was surfaced by mentioning the memory of the instrument. But if that were the case then everything from the tiniest cup of tea to the burdens of his life would be like dancing through a barrage of unforgivable curses blindfolded.
Fleur felt uneasy around the raven haired champion, unsure what she should say or if she should even try to say anything around the mine field that is Harry Potter. Her mind had droned on, continuing her stare, unconscious of the fact that she was putting the lid back on the thermos half-filled with hot tea and wrapped back the freshly warm bread, courtesy of Gabby Delacour, and stowing them away in the basket she had brought for the picnic.
After she was done putting the bread back in its rightful storage, she eyed Harry one last time before getting up, straightening her very much not rippled sweatpants. Harry saw her getting up in his peripherals and he as well got up, patting his Gryffindor hoodie to remove the snow that made its home in its weaves. He opened his mouth to address his concern but decided against it. The topic he wanted to brooch might too personal, perhaps another time.
"Seems I over stayed my welcome. Sorry to take so much of your time Fleur, it was really nice to have lunch with you." His expression was that of a puppy whose toy was taken away. "I guess I'll see you," He let the statement linger for but a second before he continued. "Tomorrow, or some other time I guess." Green eyes avoid ocean blue ones, setting its gaze on a fallen snowflake on Fleur's head.
Harry turned his back to walk away giving Fleur the view of the letters at the back. Seeker it read and Potter was in a bold shade of black the mingled well with its tailored fabric dyed red. He took a couple of steps away from Fleur, leaving her with a slight frown.
Fleur's brow furrowed. She whisked her wand to vanish the blanket and made great strides to catch up with Harry. Damn he was a fast, or did Fleur just stare at him until he was far enough to let her French cussing be rendered inaudible to the young champion.
" 'Arry, you pley Quidditch?" Fleur kept her breathing in check even if a single hair strand rebelled from staying in place as every intake of air made her chest burn and eye teary.
Harry was surprised by Fleur's sudden appearance. It had been a good three minutes or more since he had departed from the picnic site with his hands in his pockets.
"Can you repeat that?" Harry asked the heaving veela, not quite catching the rest of what she said after the first syllable. He looked at Fleur with fascination and glee, he never seen someone so disheveled but retain their gracious glow and profound perfection. A few strands were not in place, her hair a smooth waterfall of golden silk with a few individuals trying to disobey the current of flowing hair. The rise and fall of her chest were enticing and alluring to the eyes of many, her breathing was testing the coat's durability to hold the buttons together. Perhaps it was too tight or perhaps her front was just that plenty. Maybe a little bit of both.
"May we stop for a moment." Fleur took a deep breath before spotting a log on the side of the lake, a once mighty tree that was caught in the middle of some firefight of spells, now to serve the tired and weary as a place to sit and relax. Fluer moved to the log, conjuring the same blanket and draped it over the log so it would not be as cold as the snow that lay on its bark. She sat down, placing the picnic basket on her right side and patting the empty space on her left as a gesture for Harry to sit beside her.
Harry Potter smiled from Fleur's generous gesture. She made another patting gesture which Harry took as a sign to quicken his decent on the snow covered log. He rested his legs as the warm blanket radiated nicely and complimented his warming runes on his coat. Fleur asked Harry again. "You pley quidditch? I never knew." She raised an eyebrow when Harry smiled at her sincerely. His entire face lightened up and it pleased her to see that there is a semblance of happiness still waiting to bloom in the young champion, unhindered and whole despite his traumatic childhood.
Raven locks were combed by pale fingers before Harry answered. "Yeah. A seeker." Harry held a few words back. Fleur noticed the hesitation in his voice but before she could ask for clarification, Harry fired his own question. "You, my dear Fleur, paint in your free time. Really?" Her eyes widened just a bit. People knew Fleur painted but she does not remember telling Harry and she was sure Gabrielle only exchanged ten words with him before handing him the freshly baked bread. Those ten words of "I'm such a huge fan so please have some bread" were spoken in rapid French that Fleur had to translate for Harry what had just transpired between her sister, some freshly baked bread, and Harry.
"Oui. When I am alone." Fleur tried to recall who she would've told about her hobby that would've told Harry. So far, the list of people were down to herself and herself. "How come you know zis? I don't remember telling you."
"I don't have a clue either. Somehow I just know." Harry looked directly into her eyes for the first time, and unlike the other times during the picnic on the shore when their eyes would occasionally meet. What he was about to say would make or break his blooming friendship with her. "I also know about the other time when you were alone. With… him."
Fleur's flawless brow arched, where was this conversation going? Did he mean that time with… Oh heavens, no. How much does he know? Oh dear no no no.
"Non, 'Arry," Tears welled up and threatened to break stride and fall. She pulled Harry into a hug as she openly sobbed tears of sadness. The memories she tried to protect and bury, under the lock and chain have been broken down by a single man. He reached to lovingly embrace Fleur, not caring if her tears fell down his clothes. Her English was forgotten as a stream of water and French were flowing from Fleur. Some Harry could make out like "Don't tell anyone." Or "Please." All of which were delivered directly into Harry's heart and made him want to care for this girl who had been wronged countless times; it made his heart bleed.
"Fleur. Look at me." He pulled her chin up and made her look him directly in his forest green eyes. The same one that his mother had. "You are with me, nothing will ever hurt you ever again." His soothing words made Fleur calm down a bit.
" 'Arry," She let his name linger on her tongue a bit longer than what was necessary after she was calm enough to form coherent words. He looked at her with a smile painting his features, voluntarily glowing golden against his pale skin. "eef you want, you could zpend ze summer with my family." She hesitantly asked, abandoning the fear of tripping one of his emotional bombs. She didn't know if the words family or summer might put harry into an overdriven relapse that he could never recover from but it seemed to make him happy that Fleur had asked the question.
"I'm not sure my relatives would approve of that, besides, if I see your uncle's face… no if I even feel his presence on the property, I might do things I would later regret." His fist clenched when he mentioned Fleur's uncle. The vile man had done things, horrendous things, to Fleur when she was younger. Took advantage of her delicate veela magic and used her, made her do unspeakable acts for both his perverted pleasure and ungodly urges. Never had Harry been disgusted by someone as Fleur's uncle. He had seen the Dursleys eat, but her uncle takes the cake.
"Worry not, he'z been taken care of." Her faced turned sour as once again a memory of the man entered her mind. "He will never hurt me again." She calmed her alluring features and steadied her breath that caught up to her stressed images. Flashes of ropes and chains, runed walls that blocked sound from letting out, gags, whips and all sorts of torture devices. The one time she came to visit her normally distant uncle ended in scars and traumas. She had lashes that would never heal on her back, charring her perfect skin under the glamour charm that was used to conceal the remembrances of that one time.
She explained what had become of her uncle. To Harry who listened intently to Fleur's tale, he could not help understand where her hate had been seeping out from. Her snobbish and elitist façade had come from the overbearing luggage she was carrying around. For her hate to take the form of Fleur, the goddess clad in blue, her own true self was locked up in a steel box buried underneath the cold tundra of her emotion. Building within herself, forming layers to her personality that peeled away as time spent talking about anything and everything with a true and sincere person. One who had no hidden agendas or malicious goals but to know her on a level only she herself knew of. For once she had released her words without the fear of judgment and hate that were nonexistent in Harry Potter.
And Harry, who masked the pain of having no one beside him since birth, with a smile on his face that hid the sorrow of his life. The neglect and the profane insanity his day-to-day life had been since the beginning of his life were the reasons why he was so starved for everything a normal child should have. The fire that burned inside himself, the need to be normal. The need to conform. The desire to be what the crowd thought he should be had anchored him to the mediocre lifestyle that was severely reinforced into him by his loving relatives. The times were rare and far in between when Harry had the chance to unwind and relax, let his emotions flow. Just be himself.
The two of them talked and related to each other what it had been like to live in the life of the boy-who-lived and the veela fairy princess; it was not what people imagined it to be. They talked and none of them held anything back. None were scared to ask. They were communicating with each other, listening to the stories no one knew but themselves now had found someone they could trust to share the narrative of their lives. The bittersweet thought of knowing someone is there to listen but also knowing that they too had lived a life unfulfilled until the moment itself.
It was well into the late afternoon when the two champions decided to walk back to the castle but not before Harry had renegotiated Fleur's earlier offer regarding him staying over at her house in France during the summer. He had stated that he would have to convince his uncle, and Dumbledore apparently, to let him and if not then they would continuously send letters to each other.
They stopped at the fork that separated their paths, on the left was the Beauxbatons' Carriage and on the left was way to the front courtyard. They were laughing due to a memory Fleur had as a child, when Gabby would run around the house screaming after their cat for scarring her. In Gabrielle's defense their cat was pitch black and so was the room she was entering. It jumped down from the bookshelf with a frightening hiss that could make anyone's heart skip a beat. The laugh they shared was a complete and honest way to signify that in the short period they were together, they had bonded deeply and none of them knew it.
"I guess this is where we part ways." He looked at her with a smile discomforting frown. He had terrifically enjoyed his time with her but he knew it had to end. They would see each other more often than not since one will habitually seek out the other. It was now ingrained into their inner emotions that one person understood the other and both of them will never let the each other go.
"Or," Fleur had said with a tad bit more spirit than she would have normal incorporated. "We could walk back to ze shore of ze lake and finish our picnic." She smiled as she gently took Harry's hand in her own.
"Or we could do that." Harry smiled as he walked beside Fleur, hand in hand, towards the spot where everything for both of them started. On the shore of the Great Lake, there sat two souls that were forever bonded. Two broken pieces that fit, stitched together by sincerity and trust. It was, by all means, magical.
A/N: Thoughts and concerns? It was a long wait but after being risen, i have come out of hiding and have issued an updated chapter. You'll see more of the story, so stay tuned.
Next Chapter. Just a Scratch