.
A Thawing Frost
(Beginning of March, Hogwarts)
Fleur sat in the Great Hall, shivering from the March winds. The clinking silverware and laughing wizards faded into background noise as she thought about the previous night.
"Fleur? Did you hear what I said?" her cousin asked.
"What? Oh, I . . ." Why isn't he here yet? Both of his friends are sitting over there. Then again, what am I going to do when he does show up?
"Are you sure you're okay?"
Maybe I should ask to speak with him. She jumped at the soft touch on her hand.
A similar set of eyes caught her attention across the table. "This isn't like you—what's going on?"
"I didn't sleep much."
The other blond-haired witch raised an eyebrow. "That's it?"
"Oui," Fleur answered, and pushed her breakfast around the plate. "Lack of sleep makes mornings a little difficult."
"Difficult? I think it makes you look like you're about to—"
Fleur silenced her with a glare.
"Hmpf."
Okay, almost silenced her. A few moments later, Paige crinkled her nose again at the taste of the Pumpkin Juice.
"Why do you drink it if you don't like it?" Fleur asked.
"Why won't you tell me what's wrong?"
What could she say? She could tell Paige how he saved Gabrielle again last night, about how this time, only Gabrielle lived; how Fleur woke up and cried, wailed for the first time in years. She could mention that she had an overwhelming need to see him, to make sure he was safe. That'd go over real well. "So anyway, what was it you were saying?" she asked Paige.
Paige slowly shook her head. "You are the most stubborn Veela I've ever met. Anyway, I'm going back to Beauxbatons next week. I need to study for final exams and there's no one here to teach advanced Veela history."
"Oh, that makes sense, I guess. Don't know why you took those courses. Grand-mère could teach us everything we needed to know."
"Whatever; you do realize it means I can't help you prepare for the last task."
"It's okay, go back to France."
The owls caught Fleur's attention a few minutes later. The way they fluttered about the room and dropped packages on the table was . . . annoying. Just because people have magic, doesn't mean they can act like slobs, then wave a wand and make it all go away. It's called having respect for yourself.
"Don't you just love how the English . . ."
Fleur looked around—Where did Paige go? And how is breakfast almost over already? Why isn't he here? What if— no, it was just a dream. Had to be a dream.
Fleur continued to push the food back and forth on her plate, gazing around the Great Hall. She had to admit, there was a certain charm here. The ceiling was a true work of magic and the massive windows with its stained glass scenes were breathtaking. She allowed her eyes to continue downwards to the students that milled around. It was nice to see more than just blue fabric. Hogwarts robes provided a nice variance with the house colors sewn into the robe, even if it did clash with beautiful green eyes and—
Zut! It's him! The Great Hall came alive around her—sounds poured in: a few feet away someone was sawing through a slice of breakfast ham, witches were screeching and giggling at the next table and a barrage of voices assaulted her ears, but none of them could drown the sound of her heart thumping in a quickening rhythm.
Fleur tried to ignore it, as she watched the young man before her. His hair pointed in more directions than a compass, his frame had yet to fill out, his grin, when it did show up, had a strange innocence—how could he be a hero?
His eyes, the set of his shoulders, the tenseness of his jaw; he was worrying about someone.
He had worried about Gabrielle, too.
How could he not be hero? And now he was looking at her.
She smiled at him and was pleased that he smiled back.
Fleur walked out of the Great Hall and into the refreshing spring morning, welcoming the cool breeze and chattering birds.
The next time Gabrielle wrote to Fleur and asked about him, maybe she'd share the letter with him.
That's exactly what I will do.
Gabrielle sent a letter at least three times a week, and she always asked about Harry Potter.
Chapter Eleven
Promises: Fulfilled and Broken
"I'm sorry, Fleur," Harry said, sitting on the edge of the couch in the smaller sitting room. "I've just had a few things running through my head lately."
"Humpf."
He swallowed the lump in his throat. What if she didn't like him?
"I mean, I like you a lot." Why is my voice shaking? "I just have too many things hanging over my head to think straight, I guess."
Fleur looked almost heavenly as the glow of the lights from the city made its way up the valley and through the windows of the room.
"Then I think, you should do what you need to do and not worry about anything else."
His heart sank. Did she just reject him?
"I guess so," he answered quietly.
Fleur nodded and marched out of the room. Later that night, Gabrielle found him asleep on the couch, his arms wrapped around his chest, a vice trying to keep the pieces from falling apart.
X ~ X ~ X ~ X
Four days later, Harry stepped away from the rock fence and looked back to the house. The four-foot wall, running almost to the patio, was fully restored on this side of the property now—or at least it would be restored when he finished this last section in a few minutes. If he pushed a little harder, the entire wall could be done by his birthday at the end of the following week, but why? Doing that would just leave him the month of August with very little to do but bang his head against a wall.
Harry shook his head at the thought and moved the wheelbarrow that held the concrete down a couple of feet and then heaved another rock on the fence, placing it just to the right of the last one, and twisting it back and forth a couple of times so it would settle into the mortar properly. He slathered another trowel full of concrete on the rocks and lifted another one to his chest. He took a step and extended his arms to place it next to the last one.
"Almost finished 'Arry?"
Harry jumped and drew his wand, dropping the stone against the wall, which knocked off three other newly set stones.
"It's just me!" Gabrielle cried, her hands in the air.
"Sorry, Gabby."
"Let me 'elp." She pointed her wand, whispered, "Wingardium Leviosa," and floated the rocks back up on the wall. "Do you need to do anything before I set them down?"
Harry quickly scraped off the lower layer of rock and reapplied the cement before Gabrielle let the rocks drop. With a couple quick twists of her wand, they wiggled into place.
"Thanks."
"No problem. I was just coming down to tell you that Fleur should be home in a little while if you want to get cleaned up."
The trowel hit the bottom of the wheelbarrow rather hard.
"I think I'm going to get started on the other section of the fence today." Harry traded the trowel for a tamping tool.
"No, you're not!"
"And why is that?" he asked, pounding the cement into place.
"Because today, you're going to talk to 'er instead of faking that everything is okay."
A sharp 'snap' echoed across the small valley as the tamping tool snapped on impact.
"There's nothing wrong."
Gabrielle picked up a broken piece of metal and twirled it in the air. "Tell that to the poor tool you just broke into three pieces."
"Ruddy bad workmanship if you ask me," he mumbled, making a show of inspecting his work.
"Oh, I don't know. You've done a great job on the fence; it's your workmanship on Fleur that needs help."
He turned to face the younger girl. "And you're the authority that's going to help me?"
"Nope. I'm just the messenger telling you that you're going to end up having to talk to her today."
"I thought you said 'I'm going to,' not 'I going to end up having to'; there's a difference."
Gabrielle raised her eyebrows slightly and made a little 'o' with her lips. "Did I say all that? I'm sorry," she said in a childlike voice. "I meant that we're going to Paris today. That's all!"
She pulled her face into a pout. "Doesn't my newly adopted big brother remember promising your little sis that you'd go with us?"
"Unfortunately—"
The cheekiest smile Harry had seen in months spread across her face. "Great! And while we're on the subject, how are you and Fleur doing? I could invite my best friend to come along so the two of you could have some time to yourselves . . ."
X ~ X ~ X ~ X
Harry let the steam and hot water work together to loosen the knots in his back that had developed since he was reminded of his promise.
"Yeah, this is just what I need, a full afternoon with Fleur, as if the last week and a half wasn't bad enough."
It was easy to see where it started to go wrong. He hurt her when he cut her off as she was trying to protect him from seeing the memories at the ministry. She refused to hold his hand the rest of that day, even though she kept looking at him with those doe-like eyes. How could any set of eyes carry so much emotion? So much beauty? So much frustration that it'd make a wizard stay up half the freaking night trying to figure out what every bloody little look meant and how the hell any person could—OUCH!"
Harry looked down and noticed the two broken toes on his right foot.
Next time I should kick something softer.
At least he had found a few healing charms in Gebringang-pínere. He was surprised to learn that a number of the healing charms originated as ways to cover for torture—or make someone healthy enough to begin another round. Salazar Slytherin kept this book in his personal library for what reason?
X ~ X ~ X ~ X
Gabrielle knocked softly on the door. "Fleur, it's me, can I come in?"
"Sure."
She pushed the door open to find Fleur sitting in front of the mirror, watching the younger Veela as she walked into room.
"Hi, how was—" Fleur stopped. "Are you okay?"
"I guess." she answered. "I was just thinking about how much I missed you last year and now that you're working . . . I guess I just figured you'd be too tired today. . ."
Fleur put her hairbrush down. "Too tired for what?"
She sucked in a breath of air. "You forgot?"
"Forgot? Forgot what, that we're going to Paris today?"
She nodded and Fleur smiled at her. "Of course I didn't forget. Why do you think I changed into Vulgaire clothes?"
"You promise?" Gabrielle asked, her eyes lighting up.
"I said we'd go, didn't I? You're my favorite sister, of course we're going."
"You're my only sister—and thanks!" She gave Fleur a big hug and made her way to the door, as she spoke again. "I'll just go make sure 'Arry is ready."
The door slammed shut, seemingly of its own accord. She turned back to her sister, noticing in particular the wand quivering in Fleur's hand.
"What do you mean by, 'Arry?" Fleur asked in a very dangerous voice.
She looked at Fleur with the same doe-in-the-headlights look that her sister had perfected. "I, um, the second time I saw him, after . . . you know, I asked him to come with us to Paris. I felt so bad about what happened that I thought I could make it up to him showing him my favorite shops and letting him relax and maybe find an English restaurant—or even an American quickie-munch place. I'm sorry Fleur. I didn't mean to ruin it for you. Please say you'll still go with me!"
Fleur sighed. "I told you I'd go, didn't I?"
Gabrielle squealed and hugged her again.
"Was that all that was bothering you? You know I wouldn't skip out on you."
It was a split-second decision, but if the opening was there. . .
"I know, I just. . ."
"Okay, out with it," Fleur demanded.
"Remember when you said something to me about being beautiful rather than just a Veela?" she asked
"That's not how I said it, but I remember. Why?"
Gabrielle walked over and sat down on the iron-framed daybed under the window. "Because I kind of understand what you meant by that, but I'm really confused by relationships with boys. So does that mean I'm not a mature Veela yet, or does that mean I'm not as smart as you, or does that mean that I'm not even really a Veela?"
Fleur crossed the room and sat next to her. "What would make you think something like that?"
"I don't know. Maybe it's just that I don't understand this Veela thing enough, but I look at Maman and Papa, and they're perfect for each other. They seem so happy. Then I look at you and 'Arry and I think you're perfect for each other—but you don't seem happy at all lately and sometimes, I almost think a little of the 'Beauxbatons Fleur' is back when the two of you are in the same room."
"Perfect for me? Why would you— skip that. What Maman and Papa have, is decades of real, true love. You can't compare that with anything."
Gabrielle wrung her hands together and hoped the next question sounded innocent. "What about you and 'Arry?"
"'ARRY AND ME? I DON'T EVEN LIKE 'IM! If he thinks he can pull away from me, be cold to me every morning, make me work all day to convince him to let me hold his hand—he's in for a big surprise!"
She let the silence linger after the outburst, gauging the right time before— "Sorry, I didn't mean to make you upset."
Fleur took a deep breath. "It's okay. Why don't you go let Maman know we're leaving in a few minutes?"
She was up and walking to the door before Fleur spoke again.
"You might as well make sure he's ready."
"Who?" Gabrielle asked, and grinned.
Fleur narrowed her eyes.
Gabrielle opened the door and then turned back to Fleur with the same cheeky smile she had given Harry earlier. "If you don't even like him, does that mean that I—"
A Tickling Charm cut through the air and slammed into the back of the door that Gabrielle had just managed to close behind her.
"Oh, biiig siiister—did you mean to cast the charm with that much force, or maybe there's a green-eyed—"
"YOU'RE ABOUT TO FIND OUT!"
Gabrielle sprinted down the hall and through her doorway. By the time she got safely inside her room, she was giggling so hard at her own antics that she could barely stand up.
X ~ X ~ X ~ X
Harry took a deep breath, threw the powder into the fire, and called out "Rue de la Magie" . . . and stumbled right into Fleur's arms on the other side.
"Thanks, still haven't figured out the Floo thing yet."
"Hmph." Fleur turned around and walked out of the Floo Transport Center, leaving Harry to wonder why she insisted on dragging her hand across his chest, rather than just stepping away from him.
"Come on, 'Arry!" Gabrielle said.
Harry followed the two witches into Vulgaire Paris. Ten minutes later, they walked up Quai Branly Street and Harry looked up to see the Eiffel tower.
"Wow." Harry said, "I have no idea how something like that can be built."
"Patience, maybe?" Gabrielle asked.
He thought he caught Fleur mumbling a warning to her sister. Gabrielle seemed to ignore it and grabbed a hold of their hands, pulling them farther along. "Come on, I want to show the both of you something."
They walked a little farther before cutting through the Champ de Mars, allowing Harry to see the tower up close. He couldn't help but stop and gaze up at it again.
"I was the same way the first time I saw it," Fleur said quietly, standing a couple of feet away from him.
Harry's stomach flipped. He grunted out an agreement and started walking in the general direction they were headed.
Great, the first time she speaks to me in two days and all I can do is grunt. Since when did I turn into Crabb or Goyle?
Gabrielle caught up to him and pointed to the left. "We're going that way."
"What's up there?" Fleur asked from behind them.
"You'll see."
Gabrielle skipped on a head, across a busy intersection and down Rue Saint-Dominique. After a few blocks, she led them to an American coffee shop that he had heard of before, but had never actually been to yet.
After getting their drinks, they intended to visit a few places, including the Louvre, but those plans were cut short quickly due to Gabrielle's reaction to her coffee. They made their way back to the Champ de Mars.
Fleur laughed at Gabrielle, who was currently spinning in circles while looking upwards at the tip of the tower.
"You're going to make yourself sick, Gabby." Fleur warned, her voiced laced with humor.
"Weeeeeeee" Gabrielle answered as she spun around again, and fell to the ground with a thud.
"'Ow often 'ave you ordered a—what was that?"
"A Triple Espresso Macchiato with chocolate drizzle and sugar—once. I guess I know why Stacy made me get it decaffeinated."
"Once? As in this is your first time?" Fleur asked, her voice an octave higher than the last question.
She and Harry both laughed. They looked at each other and Harry opened his mouth to speak.
"Come on Gabrielle," Fleur said quickly. "I think it's time to give you your first Veela lesson." Fleur walked over to her sister and helped her up. "Point number one, no caffeine until your old enough to handle it."
Gabrielle giggled and wiped the grass off her clothes. After looking around, Fleur pulled out her wand, cleaned off the stains, and moved closer towards a group of people in the distance. There were a few young men in the group.
Harry followed.
"The first thing you 'ave to remember, is that the male 'uman is not so smart. Instead of telling us 'ow they feel, they either stare dumbfounded at you, or away from you."
Harry noticed some of the teenagers in the group were beginning to stare open-mouthed at the two Veela.
"What I used to do when they would stare like that, is look down my nose at them as if to say, 'You 'aven't got a chance in the world,' but since that is only true for certain men, there's no reason to treat everyone the same way."
She looked back over her shoulder at Harry. He knew that look well, remembering how she dealt with the male population at Hogwarts. He snorted in response and looked back up at the top of the tower that pierced the cloudless sky.
". . . Over the last few weeks, I've learned that tipping your head to acknowledge them, and then continuing as if nothing 'appened works well when you're at a distance."
"But doesn't that encourage them?" Gabrielle asked.
"Not at all. I've spent quite a bit of time around the new 'ires in Papa's office without any problems. You should come to work with me sometime; there's some good-looking ones there that we could ogle together," she said, her voice as snotty as any Slytherin princess he'd ever had the displeasure of meeting.
Harry forced himself not to look at her. What was she doing? He already apologized, already told her he cared about her. What else did she want? Why was she trying to rub his nose in it now? She was the one that rejected him!
"Are any of them as cute as 'Arry, though?"
"No," Fleur answered. "And that's the next lesson. 'Arry may be cute, but real men are 'andsome."
Harry found his own way back to Rue de la Magie.
X ~ X ~ X ~ X
"There you are!" Fleur spat out at him through clenched teeth an hour and a half later. He was sitting at an outdoor café with ten or twelve tables strewn about, covered in simple but nice white tablecloths. Flowerboxes created a ring around the tables, sectioning the outdoor seating off from the rest of the street.
"You 'ad both of us worried. Why couldn't you be considerate enough to tell us where you were at least—"
"Considerate? Is that something else associated with 'men'? I guess I wouldn't know since I'm just a leetle boy, no?"
Fleur's wand appeared in her hand with a speed that left him very impressed, but he was ready with his as well and was in the process of casting a Protego Shield when Fleur spun on her heel and stomped down the street. The way people moved out of her way reminded Harry of a movie he watched one night when the Dursleys were gone, except that Fleur didn't even have to strike the ground for this particular sea to part.
"It's a good thing I didn't say what first came to mind."
Gabrielle ruffled his hair and sat down across the table from him. "She was really worried about you."
"Yeah, she sure showed it."
"The two of you are impossible." Gabrielle picked up a menu. "I was going to offer to go to an English restaurant so you could get something more like what you were used to eating."
"Thanks, but I don't think it'd be a good idea to leave now," Harry said. "Not if I wanted to live, anyway."
Gabrielle laughed as the waiter approached.
"'Ow can I 'elp. . ."
Harry's stomach turned for a second time that day. The middle-aged waiter looked dumbfounded as he stared at Gabrielle.
"Excuse me!" He said to no avail.
Then he picked up his wand.
"'Ey! What was zhat for?" The waiter asked as he rubbed his side where the light Flipendo Jinx hit him.
"She's thirteen years old." Harry did his best to stare down the man.
"I don't know what you're talking about," the waiter replied, then took Gabrielle's order without looking at her.
"Thank you, sir." Gabrielle said to his retreating back before asking Harry, "Did you order yet?"
"Nah. I was waiting for you two."
"Well, I'm here, so why aren't you eating? Waiting for Fleur?" she asked, raising her eyebrows in a mask of innocence.
"No!" He picked up the menu and looked through it, ordering on a whim when the waiter returned with Gabrielle's drink.
They chatted while waiting for the food. Harry found out that since she had come of age, Gabrielle's American friend was reluctant to have her over, though that was more for Gabrielle's protection. Her friend had three older brothers who were all as dumbfounded a couple of days ago when she showed up at their house as the waiter had just been.
"What about school? Are you worried about how your friends will act there?" Harry asked as the waiter set the plates on the table.
"I'll be private tutored again."
"I thought you attended Beauxbatons."
"I do."
Harry scrunched his eyebrows together. "Huh?"
"Veelas are all 'ome schooled from the first sign of their transformation to six months following it. They don't want what happened to us the other day to 'appen at school."
Harry blushed and Gabrielle roared with laughter, attracting stares from the other tables—well, attracting more stares.
"I'll get to tease you about that for the rest of our lives, no?"
He snorted. "Why does every witch I meet lately see fit to tease me?"
"It's how we flirt—I thought you knew that."
Harry was overcome by a sudden coughing fit.
"Guess you didn't know. It's true though. My Maman does it, but it's innocent with her. She's just having fun with someone she thinks is sweet. My father even does it a little with some of Fleur's girlfriends, but only when Maman is in the room."
Harry tried to picture Aunt Petunia and Piers Polkiss . . . Godric's ghost! He hoped Mr. Delacour had more Firewhisky.
"Gabrielle! I'm impressed!" a blonde witch called out from the surrounding barrier. "Just three weeks and you're already out with an older man! He's pretty good-looking as— NO!"
Harry had to stop himself from rolling his eyes as hers traced up to his scar.
"Hi Paige, come sit with us." Gabrielle said.
Paige walked around the barrier and pulled up a chair. Harry couldn't help but notice her eyes, hair, beauty, and the slight pull that emanated off her. He turned back to Gabrielle. "Let me guess—"
"Yep. A cousin too."
Harry turned back to the partial Veela. "Very nice to meet you, Paige."
"And you. So how did—Oh! Is this about you 'saving' her in the second task?"
Harry blushed again.
"No," Gabrielle said. "Me, Fleur, and 'Arry were visiting Vulgaire Paris today."
"Oh, so where's Fleur?"
"Over there someplace"—she pointed in the general direction of the large storefront down the street that was advertising Vulgaire and Wizarding clothes in the window—"she left in a huff."
"Figures. So this isn't a date then?" she asked Gabrielle.
"Nope. Disappointed?"
Paige turned to Harry and winked. "Not in the least."
His blush deepened, but before he could say anything, Paige schooled her features and a playful teenage girl turned into a very attractive but serious young woman. "I don't know if you remember 'Arry, but I was at 'Ogwarts this year too."
"You were? I don't—wait; you sat next to Cho the first night you arrived."
Her smile faltered. "Did she make it?"
"Yeah. She did. But Cedric didn't."
Tears moistened her eyes. "From what I read, neither did Krum. Thank you for getting my cousin home."
"She deserves as much of the credit as I do, probably more."
Paige gave him a benign smile. "Still, I thank you, 'Arry. I've no doubt you greatly 'elped."
She turned back to Gabrielle. "Tell Fleur I'm sorry I missed her. We just made a quick trip 'ome, so I decided to get some shopping done today. We're 'eading back to the nest tomorrow morning."
Gabrielle caught the look on Harry's face and laughed. "Don't worry, 'Arry, it's not a real nest. She just means the place where Veela families flock together during the summer for vacation."
"Really?" Harry asked.
"Yeah," Paige answered. "Since guys who have Veela sisters are immune to Veela magic, it's much safer for all the teenage Veela running around in skimpy swim suits."
"Wait, their immune?"
"Yeah, fathers too. Cuts down on incest, doesn't it?" Paige asked.
Both girls laughed at Harry this time. "Sorry," Paige said. "Didn't mean to make you sick while you ate." She turned to Gabrielle. "I probably won't see you much before Christmas, but I can't wait to catch up and hear all about your new experiences being a Veela—you look stunning, by the way."
"Thanks!" Gabrielle said and hugged the older girl, who kissed her on both cheeks.
Paige turned to Harry and motioned for him to stand up. As soon as he did, she put her arms around him and pulled him into a hug. "I meant what I said. I love Fleur like a sister." She leaned in and gave him a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth—and quickly back away from him, spitting on the ground. She reached for Gabrielle's drink and downed half of it.
"Que Veela peu pute!" she said, and a large, feral, and downright frightening grin grew.
"'Ow strong is 'is resistance?" Paige asked Gabrielle.
"'E surprised me one night and I hit him with all my Veela magic—after my physical changes were complete. 'E didn't even get out of the couch."
The grin grew larger. "Prepare yourself," she said to Harry.
Harry gripped the table and fought off the urge to rip every shred of clothing from Paige and take her right there on the table.
"Okay?" Paige asked, a few seconds later.
"What the bloody hell was that!"
"Just a special 'ello to Fleur. That's all." She hugged Harry again, this time pressing her body against his, though she stood off-center so it wasn't as intimate as it would seem.
Finished, Paige winked at Gabrielle and walked off.
Harry was still standing, unaware of his surrounds and trying figure out what had just happened when he felt a pair of hands on his cheeks. He looked down slightly to see Gabrielle standing inches away from him—
—and pulled his head down, kissing him smack on the lips, only to pull back, sputtering and spitting. She took a large sip of her drink and swished it around in her mouth before spitting it out in the large flowerpot, then downed the rest of her drink.
"Would someone please tell why the hell Veela keep kissing me and then acting as if they had just kiss the arse-end of a mountain troll?"
Guffaws erupted around the little outside diner and Harry quickly realized he was the center of attention. He sat down and glared at his dinner partner.
"I had no idea," she said to herself. "This changes everything."
"What. Changes. What!" He demanded.
"So, 'Arry. Did you enjoy kissing my sister?"
Harry sat, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, absent of thought.
X ~ X ~ X ~ X
"'Ow dare 'e say that to me!"
Fleur threw down the umpteenth piece of clothing she had tried and slid on her own light pink, short-sleeved blouse. She unlocked the door, gathered up the mountain of clothes, and dropped them off on the "return" cart at the entrance to the dressing room.
With a quick rasp, they were back on their hangers and in their original places.
"Of all the things to throw back in my face . . ."
"Is there anything else I can do for you, Mademoiselle?"
"There is nothing you can do for me!" She stormed to the front door of the clothing store, but stopped herself and turned back to the young man behind the counter. "Sorry. That shouldn't have been directed at you."
"It's okay. Have a good evening."
Fleur stepped out and walked back down the street towards the restaurant where she left Harry and Gabrielle, when she noticed that he was blushing furiously and most of the people sitting around them were laughing.
What has he done this time? She stopped at the flower barrier. "Ready to head 'ome?"
Harry looked up at her, his emotions playing out on his face. Fleur could almost label every one as they passed: apprehension, anger, sadness, confusion. . .
Good, now he knows how I feel.
"Aren't you going to eat?" Gabrielle asked.
A new . . . something played on Harry's face: was that hope?
"I guess I should," she said before catching herself. Fleur walked to the table, pulled out a chair and sat down.
"So, what did the two of you—" The air was full of pheromones. Why were they so strong? She narrowed her eyes and looked over to her little sister, then back at Harry. Their body language said it had nothing to do with Gabrielle, but the scent was too old to be caused by Fleur, she decided. So what . . . Then, a second scent wafted by Fleur and she stiffened, knuckles white as she balled her hands into fists to keep control of herself.
Gabrielle smirked. "'Arry and I were just talking. Well, really, I was asking questions and 'e sat in 'is seat petrified. Maybe you could answer?"
"I'm not in the mood to play twenty questions," she said in her mother-tongue.
"Good, then I'll only ask one," Gabrielle replied in French as well. "How did you enjoy kissing 'Arry?"
Gabrielle let loose a brilliant smile and Fleur almost made herself a single child after thirteen years.
"We never kissed," she whispered, trying desperately to keep her temper under control.
"My cute ass, you never kissed him," Gabrielle said. "Not only did you kiss him, but you marked him."
"Marked him? How do you—I swear if he tried to kiss you to get back at me, I'm going to—"
"Oh, don't go sprouting feathers, you hen."
Fleur froze, having never been dismissed by her sister before. But Gabrielle didn't stop. "If you really think he'd use me to get back at you, then you don't deserve him in the first place."
"So, tell me then. What did you do? No, wait, let me guess—the first chance you get, you stick your tongue down his throat, no?"
"Hello," the waiter interrupted, unaware of any tension since he was looking at his pad of paper, not wanting to cause any more trouble. "Can I get you anything to eat?" he asked Fleur.
Gabrielle piped up. "Anything large enough to shove in her mouth and keep her quiet should be fine."
"I'll come back in a couple of minutes if you would like," he suggested.
"That won't be necessary."
Fleur opened the menu and threw it down on the table, then chose the first thing she saw, not even reading what it was. The waiter quickly wrote it down and retreated from the line of fire.
"We're being rude to 'Arry, speaking in French in front of him."
"I don't give a damn. I want to know why you decided to kiss my—kissed this English excuse for a man."
"If you really want to know, I was confirming a suspicion. I think someone else left a message for you."
Fleur raised an eyebrow at her sister, then turned to Harry, leaned in, and sniffed. Crinkling her nose, she leaned in a little further and sniffed again.
"Who. Was. The. Veela. Whore?"
Gabrielle leaned back and picked up her newly filled glass, taking a sip before answering. "Funny, she called you the same thing."
Fleur flushed with anger. "You are going to tell me now, or I'm going to hex that so-called cute ass of yours all the way home."
"Who else do you think would put their magical scent all over someone just to play with you?"
"Paige?"
"Yep. She thanked him for getting you back to France safely and gave him a peck on the side of the lips . . . why are you turning white?"
Fleur ignored her.
Gabrielle giggled, and continued. "So then, she decided to mess with you and hit him with her Veela magic before rubbing her scent all over him. Of course, I had to find out why she spit in the bushes after kissing him and then downed half my drink. So I kissed him."
Fleur's eyes narrowed again.
"And spit half of what was left of my drink in the bushes before downing the rest of it. So, Fleur, do tell. How did you enjoy your kiss with 'Arry?"
"If it's not too much problem," Harry cut in, "I'd like to know why my name keeps coming up."
"Oh, no reason," Gabrielle answered. "It's just Veela sister-stuff."
The waiter returned and put the bowl on the table. Harry's eyes widened before he closed them and turned away, looking down the street for the rest of the meal.
Fleur glared at him for a minute, but he wasn't about to turn around, so she gave up and looked down at her plate.
There, sitting before her, was a single serving of Bouillabaisse.
X ~ X ~ X ~ X
Things only got worse over the next five days. Fleur tried to apologize for the way she acted when she came back from the store, but Harry just shrugged it off and said it wasn't a big deal. It was the wrong thing to say as Fleur became even more upset with Harry's emotional retreat, which, in turn, made Harry retreat even further.
He spent most of his days after that working on the wall during the afternoons and evening so he didn't have to deal with Fleur. One thing he noticed was that the rocks seemed to have become much lighter over the last month.
Sirius, Charlie, and Remus came to France the following Sunday for Harry's birthday. Tonks wanted to come, but got caught up in some Order business that necessitated her special talents.
"Tonks really was sorry; seems you made quite the impression on her," Sirius said, and made himself comfortable on the couch in the small sitting room of Harry's downstairs' apartment.
"Yeah well," Charlie began, "saving someone's life will do that. She wanted me to tell you 'thank you'. Had you and Fleur not flown into the trees that night and taken the Death Eaters by surprise, she would have been dead."
"Shame I wasn't fast enough for Mrs. Weasley though," Harry said quietly.
Charlie rested an arm on Harry's shoulder. "Tonks caught you out of the corner of her eye as you flew into the woods. We watched her memory in the Pensieve. You couldn't have gone any faster. How the hell did you avoid the trees?"
Harry walked over to the corner of his room and picked up his broom. "I didn't."
A low whistle escaped Remus's lips. "Do you know the sheer force it takes to do this kind of damage to the stirrups of a Firebolt?"
Charlie chuckled. "You're going to Pensieve that flight for me Harry."
"As long as I don't have to see it again, you can have it."
The three adults looked at each other and the older two walked out of the room.
"Harry, I wanted to talk to you for a minute alone."
He sat down in the large black club chair and waived for Charlie to take Sirius's spot on the low-slung couch.
"You barely knew me and Bill, but you made a good impression on us last summer, probably the same one you made on the rest of my family. I've been talking with Sirius and Remus about what will happen to you after the war and . . ."
Harry watched him closely, not sure he liked where this was going.
". . . I don't know if you'd be comfortable with it, but I'll probably head back to Romania after everything is finished and I've offered to let the two of them live in the Burrow. You're welcome to it as well."
Harry nodded. He didn't want to think about staying there with all the memories, but at least he wouldn't have to worry about it. He'd be dead a few moments after the war was over anyway.
"I also wanted your permission to ward the Burrow to accept you as the owner if I'm killed. I know it's not much, but—"
"Give it to Sirius."
"He already has a place."
"Then Remus. He doesn't have a place of his own."
"Well that's a bit buggered, you see. Since he suffers from Lycanthropy, the laws won't allow him an inheritance."
"But if we win, then the laws can change."
"Sorry, Harry, but those laws were put into place a century ago."
Harry chuckled darkly. A century ago? What, exactly, was the difference between Death Eaters and the rest of the wizards?
"What happens if I don't make it?"
"Then we give it to one of my relatives, but they don't really care about the Burrow, not like you do. It would mean a lot to me and I know it's something my mum and dad would've wanted."
"I guess it's okay then, but I really don't think I'd want to live there. Too many memories."
The slow nod and sigh reminded him that Charlie had a lot more emotions invested there than he ever did or would. It was time to change the subject. "So how are you and Tonks doing?"
Charlie grinned. "It's about the only good thing to come out of this war. Of course, the war is just too big for us to take on a serious relationship right now."
"But after?" Harry asked.
"Yeah," Charlie answered, "if we both make it, maybe I won't be going to Romania right away after all. It doesn't matter though as far as your concerned, Sirius and Remus would still be at the Burrow. I'd want to start something new with her somewhere else."
Harry's lip pulled up. "Not serious? Sounds like you've been doing a little planning."
Charlie cocked an eyebrow back at him. "Getting cheeky are we? Just remember, I can outrun you, and I am faster than you on a broom, though not by much from what I saw."
"I don't know about that," Harry said. "But I hope it happens."
"What, Tonks and me together after the war, or me chasing you on a broom?"
"Both."
Charlie grinned widely. "Any time you want to race, just let me know."
They made their way upstairs a few minutes later to rejoin Sirius and Remus, who were being both charmed and entertained by Gabrielle's recounting of Harry's introduction to Paige.
"Hi, big brother!" she called out when Harry entered the smaller sitting room next to the kitchen.
Harry stopped mid-step.
"You know," Sirius began, "I don't think I've heard so much mischievous delight in just three words since. . ."
"The three of us?" Remus asked.
"No, she even outmatches Lily. She's almost to the level of—"
"Oh bloody hell, no! That lovely witch was the only Prefect that could make you and James toe the line the last couple of years."
"Yeah, another hell of a witch cut down too soon."
A moment of silence passed before Sirius lightened the mood. "So, Harry, I hear you're a Veela magnet."
"It's good to see he can still blush," Remus said.
"He does it often; you should have seen him blush the first two times he saw me here," Gabrielle said.
"Just what have you been doing while you've been in France?" Charlie asked him.
Mrs. Delacour happened to walk into the room just then and answered for Harry. "Watching my thirteen year old daughter run naked down the hall."
Gabrielle, to Harry's relief, turned red as well.
The Delacour matriarch told them the story while they waited for dinner. Fleur and her father arrived home from the Ministry and joined them. After the meal, they spent the evening catching up.
"How's Neville doing?" Harry asked three hours later.
"Not so well." Remus said.
Harry could tell they had wanted to avoid the subject.
"Tell me," he demanded.
"He and Su Li were visiting his parents in St. Mungo's when a wave of patients came in from another Death Eater attack, but this time the Death Eaters weren't happy with just sending them to the hospital, so they came looking for them. A battle ensued." Sirius explained.
Harry was surprised when he felt a hand slip into his. He looked over to notice Fleur had moved next to him.
"Bellatrix was with them and found Neville, Su Li, and his parents."
Harry felt his heart race. Blood drained from his face, leaving him pasty white. He forgot about everything else. If Neville were dead, Harry would demand they take him with them back to England tonight. His revenge would begin immediately.
"She killed both of Neville's parents. Neville managed to trick Bellatrix and get him and Su Li out of the ward. But as they ran down the hall, she hit Su Li in the back with the killing curse."
Harry stepped away from Fleur. "Why the hell would she do that? What is wrong with that bitch? She needs to be sent into madness via the Cruciatus Curse, and then killed—slowly!"
"Harry!" Mrs. Delacour said; her hand over her mouth.
He turned to her. "She and three others used that curse to put Neville's parents in the ruddy hospital in the first place. For twelve hours they suffered while that bint squealed with bloody delight." Harry took a breath. "Bellatrix will die for what she did."
It took five minutes to calm the resulting commotion.
"'Arry, I want to know what you're planning," Mr. Delacour said. He raised his hand before Harry could respond. "I need to know if I need to take a leave of absence to join you."
The room erupted in a cacophony of sound again.
"SILENCE!"
Mr. Delacour raising his voice seemed to be a very rare occurrence. A Veela feather hitting the Floor would have echoed through the house.
"If they are willing to murder people lying in hospital beds—what's going to happen when they cross le Manche? If I must kill again, I damn well prefer to do it on foreign soil, than at my back door like last time."
"Mon Amour, 'Arry turns fifteen years old tomorrow. He's too young to run off to war."
"With all due respect, ma'am," Sirius interrupted. "Harry's been in this war since he was a year old. He's been in more battles and faced Voldemort more times than our most experienced fighters. I don't want him in England either, but I am not foolish enough to think he's too young."
"There's no need to worry," Harry said into the silence that followed Sirius's declaration. "I'm not going back yet, nor will I kill Bellatrix. She's Neville's bitch to spay."
X ~ X ~ X ~ X
Fleur lay in bed that night staring up at the ceiling.
Enough is enough. Harry is going to lose himself if he doesn't have an anchor. I have to be that anchor. After his party tomorrow, I'll go down to his room and we'll straighten everything out.
X ~ X ~ X ~ X
The next day, Harry woke up to the three adult men standing over him.
"I say we use a Levitation charm and dump him, in his boxers, on the dining room table."
"Not bad, Remus. Of course, there's nothing wrong with an Aguamenti spell right in bed. I even warned him about it back at the Burrow."
Harry didn't even bother raising his head from the pillow. "Do it and you'll find yourself lying next to Bellatrix by the time it's all over."
"Little blighter really is getting cheeky," Charlie said as he grabbed a hold of the sheets at the bottom of the bed and yanked.
Remus levitated him three feet off the bed and Sirius hit him with a spout of water.
"Wake up Harry! It's your birthday!" they all yelled.
Remus stopped the spell and Harry fell back to the bed. But as he hit the mattress, he reached under his pillow and grabbed his wand. The mattress sprung him back up in the air and Harry spun around, hitting Sirius with a Jelly-legs Jinx. As he continued to spin, Charlie, at the end of the bed, was hit with a stunner.
Harry's wand flew out of his hand and he was drenched by an Aguamenti Spell by Remus.
"All right, all right, I give!" Harry said, trying to get away from the stream of water.
"You get an 'O' for speed, accuracy, and quick thinking. But strategy has to be a 'D' at most.
Below the mattress, Harry heard his godfather guffawing. "Yeah, but he did get two of the three of us after we had him suspended in mid-air."
Remus pointed his wand at the floor beyond the end of the bed and cast a Rennervate Spell at Charlie.
"Thanks." Charlie stood back up and chuckled. "I didn't even see it coming."
"Well, now that I'm up I might as well get a shower." Harry got out of bed and headed to the bathroom.
"Wait a second. What happened to you?" Sirius asked. "A month ago you were still a skinny kid. Now look at you."
Harry turned around and looked in the mirror, and figured out why the rocks felt much lighter now. He wasn't bulky, but he was very well-defined, to say the least.
Harry shrugged. "I refused to live here for free, so Mr. Delacour had me rebuild the rock fence out back and I decided to do it without magic."
"I can tell."
"You know," Charlie said. "I'd do the same if I was his age, especially with all the pretty young women around here."
Harry rolled his eyes, grabbed a pair of clean knickers from the drawer, and disappeared into the bathroom for a shower. Twenty minutes later, he came out to find his trunk sitting on his bed.
"I thought you might be missing it," Sirius said, leaning against the doorframe.
"Thanks." Harry opened the trunk and dug into it, pulling out one of Dudley's old shirts that had been passed down to him the summer before he began attending Hogwarts. He quickly dried off and pulled the shirt over his head, only to look down in consternation as something was constricting around his chest.
"What the . . ."
Sirius chuckled. "Looks like you grew a little more than you thought. I think you should try another shirt."
Harry had to settle on one of his new shirts. He cast a dirty look at the pile of shirts sitting next to his trunk. "How could I have grown out of half my shirts in a month?"
"Where they already small on you?"
"No, they were just beginning to fit me."
Sirius nodded. "Just finished your Fourth Year, right?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Your father came back to school for his Fifth Year three inches taller and probably ten or so pounds heavier. Even the clothes he bought at the beginning of the summer didn't fit. Add to that, the work you've done with those rocks and the fact you're probably being fed well here"—he gestured to the pile of clothes—"and you get this."
Sirius sat down on the edge of the bed. "So what's going on with you and Fleur?"
"Nothing much," Harry answered. He began filling his trunk with the new clothes he had bought over the last month.
"That's not what I hear."
"Then why ask?"
Sirius grabbed a shirt from Harry and slapped his hand away. "You've relied on too many house-elves to fold your clothes. Watch me."
He folded the shirt slowly. "I ask, because I want to know what's happening in your head."
"You mean except for the Horcrux that makes anything I do, except prepare to kill as many Death Eaters as possible before I die, not worth it?"
"Yep, that's exactly what I mean," Sirius answered, straightening the wrinkles before he folded the shirt again.
"In that case, nothing. I finally gave in and decided that despite everything, I wanted to be with Fleur, only to find out that she basically hates me and still thinks of me a little boy."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Sirius said, laying the neatly folded shirt in the trunk. "Don't give up so soon though. Remember, your mother hated your father for years before they started dating. Something tells me it'll be a lot easier with Fleur."
"Doubt it. Personally, I think killing Voldemort is going to be easier than trying to date Fleur."
Sirius let out another chuckle. "And her little sister? She's a right handful, that one. Any thoughts about her?"
"No. I can only see her as a little sister as well, but I'm starting to feel guilty about that."
Finished folding the clothes, Sirius floated Harry's trunk off his bed over to the side of the room.
"Why? Do you think she likes you?"
"No, it's more, well . . . it's like I feel guilty for cheating on Hermione. She was a sister to me and now I'm replacing her."
Sirius sat back down on the bed. "Do you treat her the same way you did Hermione?"
"I wasn't nearly as protective of Hermione. I always figured she knew more curses than me and it was usually Ron that took the 'protective' roll."
"Do you still think about Hermione?"
"All the time, and Ron, and Fred and George, and Ginny, and all the rest of them."
"I could ask you questions all day Harry, but you haven't replaced Hermione. Jacque told me how they have decided to take you in to their home, and it was a damn nice thing for them to do. After saving Gabrielle in the second task—even though she wasn't in danger—and being taken-in by her parents, it's normal to look at her as a little sister."
"So I should look at Fleur like a big sister?" Harry asked, his voice sarcastic.
"That's up to you—whatever you enjoy, you know? Though not even James was that kinky."
"I didn't need to hear that." Harry said, his face screwed up in a look of disgust.
Sirius chuckled again as he stood up and walked to the door. "It's almost time to go upstairs. Unless you want Fleur to give you a birthday shag, I'd suggest you put on a something more than your boxers before you come upstairs.
Harry threw one of his old shirts at him, but he turned serious a moment later. "Thanks, Sirius. I've needed someone to talk to."
"It's what I'm here for. Oh, I have something else for you."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring on a chain. "I think you left it at the Burrow."
Harry didn't notice when Sirius stepped out of the room. He was still too focused on the ring in his hand. He tried to slide it on his finger, but it was still too loose, so he slipped it around his neck on the chain.
X ~ X ~ X ~ X
Harry spent the morning working on the fence again, while Sirius, Remus, and Charlie tried to make him drop the stones on his feet by laughing too hard. Gabrielle spent most of the morning with them too, and was beat red from the humor.
Fleur came home from the ministry around lunchtime, and spent the early part of the afternoon with Remus and Charlie, catching up on Order business and making plans for contacting them when she and Harry went back to England.
Harry and Sirius spent the afternoon at the very end of the valley.
"Are you sure no one can see the spells, Sirius?"
"Absolutely. You're forgetting the family I come from. This ward blocks everything but the underage trace. No one will see it unless they come down here and enter the ward. Now, show me what you've learned."
"Duel? Are you . . . never mind."
"You weren't going to just ask me if I was serious, were you?"
"Oh belt up."
Sirius stripped off his shirt and limbered up a bit. "Normally, you won't have time to get ready, but there's no way I'm dueling under this sun with a robe and dark shirt on."
"Are you sure it's safe? I mean, what if I let loose something that I shouldn't?"
"Don't worry." He gestured around him. "These are dueling wards. It's one of the reasons no one else can see the spells. The wards also control the power of the spells you throw. A stunner will still stun, a cutting curse will still cut, but the wards greatly limit their effects so that no spell cast in here is dangerous. Now let's duel."
Harry nodded, and remembered what he'd read in the Muggle autobiography. Without another word, he shot a flash of light from his wand, blinding his godfather for an instant and Apparated behind him. Sirius shook his head and opened his eyes again, pointing his wand to where Harry should have been. Harry put his wand in Sirius's back and whispered the spell for a Jelly-Legs Jinx.
"When the hell did you learn how to Apparate?" Sirius asked, lying flat on his back.
"Turns out, Mr. Delacour started his career at the French Ministry teaching Apparation."
Harry heard Sirius swearing under his breath, then he heard the familiar squelching noise that told him anti-Apparition wards had just been cast.
He offered Sirius a hand up. "Sorry, I couldn't resist."
"Sorry my left nut, Harry. Never be sorry for catching your enemy off guard. It's the best way to make sure you stay alive. Now step back and duel."
Harry got back to his side and turned around—and ducked. A red curse grazed his head. A second, green looking curse was already headed towards his midsection. Harry put up a Protego Shield, but the Killing Curse cut right though it and took Harry in the midsection. He doubled over and fell to the ground, gasping for breath.
"Bloody hell! What was that?"
"The Killing Curse. You should recognize it by now. You've cast it enough."
"What? You just . . . how am I alive?"
"The wards, remember what I said? We're in a specially made dueling ward. It moderates every spell so that they won't permanently injure someone. You need to get used to seeing that spell and using your surrounds to block it. It's being cast with abandon across the Channel now."
Harry got up to his knees. "I always thought it took a lot out of you to cast that spell."
"It does, but magical strength and stamina is based on the same concept as physical strength and stamina." He pointed at the rock fence. "I imagine those rocks were pretty heavy at the beginning of summer."
Harry nodded.
"And now?"
"Not so much."
"You saw the reason in the mirror. Our magic reacts the same way. The more you use it and work it out, the stronger it gets. That's why wizards get better and better with age if they keep at it. Magic isn't hindered by getting old."
Harry pushed himself back up to his feet and took a few more breaths as Sirius looked farther out over the city below them, and the ocean beyond that. "I could really get used to living in a place like this. Maybe after the war, I'll buy something around here."
"Only if you live through this duel," Harry challenged.
"Raise your wand, boy!"
Curses of every color streaked out from both wands. They battled over the next half-hour, with Harry more often than not finding himself lying on the ground.
Sirius however, seemed to be having fun. He twisted his wand and let loose a series of curses that arced towards Harry, who ended up jumping out of the way. He faced his godfather again, and barely sidestepped a murky, gray colored curse.
I've about had enough of this crap!
He reached deep into his newfound knowledge and pulled out an old charm/curse combination that was a little dark and had fallen out of fashion.
He cast a charm and a curse on his left hand, and Sirius took the opportunity to throw another spell at him. Harry stepped around it and cast a three-point Cutting Curse, essentially throwing three distinct curses, trailing each other at a downward angle, towards Sirius, who danced to Harry's left, just like he wanted. Harry flexed his left hand, activating the charm, which threw off the curse that he had put on it.
A bright yellow light shot from his hand, directly into the Sirius's stomach as he was still focused on the passing blue curses. Sirius went down in a heap and vomited his lunch all over the ground.
"I've been around a long time Harry," Sirius said few minutes later as he washed his mouth out with water. "I've never seen that combination, or a yellow curse like that. What was it?"
"If we weren't in wards, you would have just puked out your guts, literally."
Sirius whipped his wand around in the air and the squelching noise ripped up the lower part of the valley, taking the wards down.
"Had enough?" Harry asked.
"I've seen more than enough." Sirius said, staring him down.
"You're peeved at me?"
"What the hell do you think? My best friend's son, my godson, is casting dark curses. You're damn right I'm miffed."
Harry sat down on the nearest bench before his knees gave out. He'd never seen his godfather like this, not towards him. "But—but you didn't have a problem with me when I used the Cruciatus Curse on Voldemort."
"No, I didn't, because you didn't PRACTICE IT before hand. It was a reflex."
"Yeah? What about the Killing Curse you threw at me at the start of practice?" Harry practically yelled.
"The Killing Curse was added to the list of Dark Arts because it is damn near impossible to stop unless you are good at levitating objects into its path. It doesn't cause pain. Can you say the same about the curse you cast? What kind of pain would that cause?"
"For a Death Eater? Not enough."
Harry had never seen Sirius's eyes burn the way they did now. It made him uncomfortable that they never left him either.
Finally, he spoke. "You want to dance with the Dark Arts? Just remember, ye who dances, shall get kissed. Get back to your position."
Another squelching noise rolled back down the valley and dueling wards went back up.
"You are not going to enjoy this," Sirius warned. He flicked his wand once and a wave of noise rushed over Harry.
He found himself lying on the ground, the world spinning around him.
"Had that been the real world, both your eardrums and inner ear would have been destroyed. You would be left with complete vertigo the rest of your life, and deaf on top of it. Now get up!"
"You effing hypocrite! How long have you practiced the Dark Arts?" He got back up to his feet and raised his wand, sending a liquefying curse at Sirius, straight out of Gebringang-Pínere. But it was the wrong choice.
Sirius recognized the curse and for the first time in Harry's life, he saw his godfather truly angry. Then he saw a rainbow of colors.
~ . ~ . ~
"Where am I?" Harry asked.
Remus moistened a towel and laid it on his head.
"You're on your bed. Do you know where your bed is?"
"Yeah, in the Delacour basement. Where's Sirius?"
"He's right here," Remus said.
"How are you feeling, Harry?" Sirius asked.
"Like I got railroaded by the Hogwarts Express. I swear that spell felt like my entire body was being ripped apart at the joints, about the same time a weight was crushing my chest. What was that?"
"A Dark spell on par with the one you tossed at me. The only difference is, I can make them work much better than you can."
Harry glared at his godfather. "Since when have you been a Dark Wizard?"
"I was born one, remember? But you're being a little hypocritical, I think. After all, my father taught my brother and me most of those curses growing up. Just because I choose not to use them, doesn't mean I don't remember them. The difference between you and me, however, is that you've chosen to learn dark spells so that you can use them."
"It's different," Harry protested.
"Different? This is going to be rich. How are your Dark Spells different from anyone else's? And before you answer, remember Grindelwald thought the same thing half a century ago."
"It's different because of what I have in my head, what it's going to take for me to get rid of it, and who I plan on taking with me when I do."
Remus put his hand on Harry's shoulder as he sat on his bed. "We told you not to think that way. We'll find a different way out of this."
"But I have to face Voldemort. So either I become strong enough to kill him, and then take my own life, or I get killed by him, and someone else finishes off Voldemort. Either way, I die, so why not learn enough to shove the Dark Arts right back up their collective arse?"
"And what happens if you change your mind?" Sirius asked. "What happens if you become the next Dark Lord? With the power you're throwing around and the pain and hatred you have, you have to know you're flirting with that possibility."
"I've already taken care of it."
"How's that?" Sirius asked again.
"I made an oath with someone. If I become a Dark Lord, he'll kill me. If he becomes one, I'll kill him."
"You think it's that easy?" Charlie asked from the other side of the bed.
"Yeah. It's what friends do."
"Who?" Sirius wanted to know.
"Neville," Remus whispered.
"Harry," Sirius began, "I'm about to tell you something I've never told anyone else. I am also the only one out of the six of us that knew about it.
"That prophecy about you—it could have been either you or Neville. Voldemort chose to make it about you by going after you instead of him. I just figured it out a week or two ago after piecing everything together."
"And?" Harry asked, not sure what this had to do with the topic of Dark Arts and Dark Lords.
"And now you and Neville are both being consumed by the very Darkness you're trying to destroy," Sirius answered. "Your parents and Neville's parents made great sacrifices for you two, and now both of you are throwing that away."
"My father didn't die fighting the Dark Arts. He died fighting a half-blooded maniac and Pureblood idiots who followed him."
"Both of your parents died because someone was using very dark magic to push their agenda. There's no way to argue around it Harry. Look, I know we talked about this at the Burrow, and as much as I didn't like the idea of you researching any kind of Dark Arts, I understood what you were saying. But you have to know where the line is; you have to know what is too much."
The Line. "You have to know where the line is." Damn!
"Um, what if I had someone offer to teach me where the line is?" Harry asked.
Sirius backed up and raised his hands, palms out. "No, no, no. I am not teaching my godson about the Dark Arts. I don't know where that line is because I have never used them myself, nor am I planning on it."
"I wasn't talking about you."
Sirius lowered his arms. "Jacque?"
"Nope. Professor Sirko."
"A professor?" Remus interrupted. "I didn't think Beauxbatons would employ anyone that came close to having that type of knowledge."
"They wouldn't," Charlie said, gazing hard at Harry. "We did a little more than just raising dragons in Romania. Professor Sirko is the Dark Arts professor at Durmstrang."
"There is no way in hell you're going there," Sirius said. "You might as well go right to Voldemort and offer him your own wand to kill you. It'd amount to the same thing."
"No, it wouldn't," Harry argued, and spent the next twenty minutes explaining to the others in the room what Professor Sirko had shared over lunch. Halfway through, Charlie went upstairs and brought down Mr. Delacour, who confirmed what Harry had said.
"I still don't like it," Sirius said. "But you may be right. I'll have to find out where it is and spend some more time as Padfoot. I'm not leaving you there alone."
Harry tried to argue with him, but Mr. Delacour raised his hand to silence him. "Sirius, you know as well as I do that it's almost impossible to find on your own and even if you did, it's probably in a place quite inhospitable for a single person to survive. On the other hand, since Harry is living here and by virtue of my position at the French Ministry, I could get up to see him at least once a month, maybe even every two weeks or so. How much did you see him last year?"
"You have a point," Sirius agreed after thinking about it. "Harry?"
"I'm still not sure if I'm going or not. It was just a suggestion."
"But if you do go, are you comfortable with Mr. Delacour looking in on you?"
"Absolutely," Harry answered without hesitation.
X ~ X ~ X ~ X
That evening after dinner and Harry's birthday cake, Sirius, Remus, and Charlie took a Portkey back to England. The rest of the family settled in for a nice evening, when the subject of Fleur's afternoon with Charlie and Remus came up.
Fleur gave a few vague answers.
Harry decided to clarify.
Fleur followed Harry downstairs to his apartment, barely getting the door closed and a Privacy Charm cast before she exploded.
"YOU 'AD NO RIGHT!"
"Your father has every right in the world to know that you joined the Order."
"And why do you think that is for you to decide?"
"Why? You are seriously asking me why? It's the blasted ORDER, Fleur. Out of the forty or so members the first time around; how many were alive when it was over, huh? Five? Ten?"
"So what? My job is to be a relay between them and you. It is not to go out and track Death Eaters or battle them."
"Oh, I'm sure that'll stop them from coming for you, right? Just like it stopped them from coming to the Burrow?"
Fleur stood in silence, rubbing her temples. Harry could see that she was physically trembling.
"Why do you care?" he asked.
"Why? Because . . . because . . ." She paused. "I l—"
"THAT'S WHAT I THOUGHT! You have no idea. You just felt obligated to take care of me, didn't you? Well guess what, you don't have to do that anymore—I'm leaving for Durmstrang as soon as I can!"
"WHAT!"
"Hey, I have an idea. Maybe I'll leave a little of the fence unfinished and you can invite some of the 'men' you enjoy watching so much from the ministry over to finish it."
Fleur's eyes flared and her face elongated for a good five seconds before shifting back into its human form. She looked at him in the exact same way she did the night she found out he was going to be the fourth participant in the Tri-wizard tournament.
"Yes, maybe I should. It seems that I've spent too much time around a leetle boy."
So much for the daydream; hello nightmare.
Fleur left the room, but Harry called out to her retreating back, "At least now you understand I'm no effing Hero!"
X ~ X ~ X ~ X
The next few days were unbearable. Dinners were especially tense affairs. Harry or Fleur would arrive late for the meal, and the other would leave early—until Fleur began spending more and more time at the Ministry and going out with friends to escape the meal entirely.
The following Saturday, Harry was in the house alone. Mr. Delacour had to go into work for a few hours and everyone else had gone into the city.
He heard a thumping noise on the window of his bedroom and pulled the curtains back, looking up to see an owl with a letter tied around its leg standing on the ground.
Harry went upstairs and out the back door, stopping on the way to get some owl treats.
"Here, you go," he said, after taking the letter. "Do I need to reply to this?"
The owl made itself comfortable in response. Harry pulled up a chair and sat down to read the letter.
~ . ~ . ~
Harry:
I am pleased to find that you want to attend Durmstrang this year. My expectation is that you are not worried as much about tests and grades as you are defeating a certain Dark Lord. For that reason, I am inviting you to begin your training next Friday.
We will spend the first three weeks assessing you and trying to jump at least a year in your education, though that is a tall order. We will, however, have you at the level of a Seventh year by the end of October and begin learning advanced magic thereafter, so be prepared to work with very little downtime, as we are basically cramming a year's worth of education into each of the first three months.
I have asked a few people to help with your training. They will work primarily with your basic spells and charms the first couple of months. You will stay in one of the student dorms with the Seventh Years, since you will be at the same magical level soon enough, and for another reason that I will not go into now.
This letter is charmed as a Portkey. It will activate at 1:45 pm, next Friday. I will meet you when you arrive.
I look forward to working with you.
Professor Sirko.
P.S. Please send a reply to let me know that these arrangements work for you. Also, Mr. Delacour is welcomed to visit at anytime, provided he is patient with our schedule. We will not break your training for visitors, especially between now and the beginning of September. There is too little time to do so.
~ . ~ . ~
Harry quickly scribbled off a reply and sent the owl on its way, then leaned back in the chair. He'd miss this view, this house, and the Delacours, but at least he wouldn't constantly have his heart torn apart by the snotty looks and cold shoulder he was getting from Fleur anymore.