When a Veela Cries

by E.C. Scrubb

A tale of rage and revenge, of loss beyond what any person should have to bear . . . and a tale of love, Harry's only hope out of the darkness.

16. Gifts

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Chapter Sixteen

Gifts

The early afternoon sun shined through the basement window. Harry pulled the covers over his head, relaxed into the pillow, and enjoyed the feeling of the soft, feminine arm under his head.

"'Arry," Fleur intoned. "I think it's time to wake up." The melody of her voice drew a smile, but five and a half hours of sleep wasn't enough and he settled in to fall back asleep, until a soft hand moved against his chest, tracing fingernails against smooth skin. "'Arry, you awake yet?"

"No." He felt her breath, hot on his cheek before soft lips pressed against his own.

"Bonjour, mon amour."

A strange sensation grew in the center of his chest. It felt warm, and his body gasped for it, like a first breath of air after being underwater for far too long.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

He opened his eyes and found Fleur radiant, though there was a hint of uncertainty in the way she was looking at him. "Tired," he answered, then smiled. "But besides that, I'm good."

"You don't have any regrets over last night?"

"No," He answered, and then in a voice quieter and less assured he asked, "Why, are you?"

She slid a bare leg over his and caressed his chest. "My only regret is that I wore too many clothes to bed."

He turned bright red. Fleur giggled and snuggled down next to him. "I'm just glad my innocent 'Arry is back, even if 'e's gotten a little more devious."

"Devious?"

"Yes, devious. Like kissing a 'eartbroken Veela and then disappearing through the back door."

He drew a finger across her cheekbone and down to her jaw line. They both looked too prominent in the bright sunlight. "I'm sorry you were heartbroken, I'm sorry—"

She put a finger on his lips. "Shh, we've discussed it already." She reached back for something on the nightstand, and then bounced a finger off the end of his nose, leaving a splotch of icing. "I would rather we move on and enjoy what we have now." She leaned over him and licked the icing off with the tip of her tongue. "Wouldn't you?"

A slight gurgle escaped his throat.

"Good, you agree," she said, then kissed him on the cheek before getting out of bed. "We should probably go upstairs and say 'hi' to everyone."

But he couldn't answer on account of his mind going blank at her tongue-trick. Ripples of warmth, not to mention something a little less innocent, surged through his body. He closed his eyes and berated himself for pushing this off for the last six months.

"Did I do something wrong?" she asked. Uncertainty tinged her voice again.

"No," he finally managed. "I'm just thinking about how much I would have enjoyed this last summer."

"Me too, but it does us no good thinking about it now." She raised an eyebrow. "Or is that your way of asking me to lick more icing off you?"

"Yeah, um, we should probably head upstairs."

"My innocent 'Arry," she cooed again, and sat back down on the bed. "Mon amour innocent."

Harry let the feeling wash over him again. "You have no idea how it feels to hear you call me your love."

Her eyes shimmered. "Then I will call you that every day."

The moment passed and she handed him the source of the icing. "Froissé brought each of us a pastry."

He took it, and chuckled at the swipe missing from the white, creamy—

A finger pressed into the icing a second time and Fleur smeared it against his cheek. "It looks good on you!" She jumped off the bed and pranced into the hallway, shutting the door. He could still hear her laughing as she walked up the stairs.

Half an hour later, Harry was relaxing in the sitting room with Sirius, Remus, and Mr. Delacour. The latter was struggling through the obligatory father-boyfriend talk. "I trust you. I can't say I like Fleur sleeping downstairs last night, but she's an adult." He shook his head. "I never thought I'd be giving this talk to someone I considered part of the family. Just do me one favor, please?" he asked after a pause.

Harry caught sight of his godfather, sitting behind Mr. Delacour and drawing a finger across his neck and Remus, who was sitting next to Sirius and mouthing the word "run" repeatedly.

"Please take good care of her."

Harry swallowed. "I will, I promise."

"I know," Mr. Delacour said. "But I had to ask."

X ~ X ~ X ~ X

"And is that how you now interpret Dark Arts?" Sirius said an hour later.

Harry nodded, enjoying the smell of the salt water in the cool air. He gazed out from his seat at the bottom edge of the Delacour property, a hundred feet beyond the stone wall and almost level with the rooftops of the seaside town below. "It makes a lot of sense. It's why I could cast a Cruciatus or Killing Curse and not be affected by it, but why Death Eaters do the same thing, and become addicted to the Dark Arts."

"You're going to have to explain that one to me."

"When they do it, it's because they're choosing the Lesser Good over the Greater Good. The more they do it, the more they default to the Lesser Good until Dark Magic overtakes them."

Sirius scratched at an old scar under his left ear and grimaced. "But if Dark Magic and the Lesser Good are the same, then how can one lead to the other?"

Harry shrugged. "I have no idea. Professor Sirko tried to explain it a few times, but even he says it's confusing."

Sirius leaned back and looked up at the sky. "I don't like it."

Harry had already surmised that the conversation was uncomfortable for him, but knowing the history of the Black family, it made sense that Sirius would rather just have a list of Dark spells from which to stay away. That wasn't quite fair, though, he thought. Sirius didn't think in terms of lists, but rather, lists plus intent maybe? Something like that.

"It leaves everything too circumstantial and gives too many excuses for using Dark Arts 'for the Greater Good.'" Sirius concluded. "The whole thing reminds me too much of Grindelwald."

"But, wasn't it a greater good when you used dark spells on me the last time we dueled?" he asked.

"No," Sirius snapped. "It was a foolish and emotional response to my godson and the son of my best friend using Dark Arts. It scared me." He took a breath and calmed down. "It made me feel like I was failing you and by extension, James."

Harry blinked, and then blinked again. He never thought about it like that, and he didn't like the fact that Sirius was thinking he'd failed, either. "Do you still feel that way?"

"I don't know," Sirius confessed. Then he pointed to a hillside on the east side of the town. "I think I just might do a little house-shopping right down there after the war. Maybe there's a local lady that wouldn't mind an old dog."

Sirius grinned, but it disappeared before he continued. "Honestly, I think you're flirting too much with the Dark Arts. I understand where you're coming from. I'll even admit that your way of looking at it makes sense, to a certain extent. But, what you're headed for, the battles you're going to fight, you better make absolutely sure of the line between the Light and Dark."

Harry took a deep breath and prepared for the next part of the conversation. He figured it wasn't going to be pleasant. "But, what if there's no such thing?"

"What!" Sirius sat up straight. "That bastard Voldemort, sure as dragonshite, is dark, and your mother and father were not. Period!"

Harry shot up off the cement bench. "I know that! How stupid do you think I am?" He held up a hand to forestall Sirius's answer. "Look, just think about it for a second. If Light is defined by not being Dark, and Dark is defined by not being Light, then aren't they really two sides of the same coin? And that means that they're the same thing, just used differently. I'd rather believe that the Higher Good isn't dependent on the Lesser Good to exist."

"But . . ." Sirius stopped and ground the heels of his hands into his eyes. "This is giving me a bleedin' headache. Just promise me that whatever way you choose to view magic, you'll be careful."

"Of course," Harry said. "I mean, Fleur's a Veela. Veela and Dark Arts don't mix, remember?"

"Yeah, I do. But don't do it for her," Sirius warned. "You need to do it for you."

Yeah, right. If he was by himself, he'd be shoving the Dark Arts right back up the collective arse of the Death Eaters. But could he do that now? Could he turn that dark and still keep Fleur? But if he didn't dive into the Dark Arts, what were his chances against Voldemort? Maybe with enough training . . . but how long would that take? He was getting more than he could handle at Durmstrang already. It would've been much easier had—

"Wait a second, If Dumbledore knew the prophecy, if he knew that I'd have to fight Voldemort—"

"Why didn't he train you differently?" Sirius asked.

"Yeah, I mean, everything I'm learning at Durmstrang, if I knew half of this stuff last spring, maybe Cedric or Viktor would have lived."

"I doubt it," Sirius answered. "Jacque showed me the memory reconstruction of those battles. There's no way you could have saved them, not without you or Fleur—or most likely the both of you—losing your lives."

"But it's still a good question, isn't it?"

Sirius picked up a rock and turned it over in his hands. "There's two ways of understanding knowledge," he began. "Some believe that you teach knowledge. That you take a person step-by-step through the process of introducing new information. Others believe that knowledge is inherent."

"But what does that have to do with Dumbledore training me?" Harry asked.

"He believed that knowledge of magic is already within us and the role of a teacher is to illuminate the pathway to that knowledge, but it's up to the student to discover it for him or herself."

"That makes no sense," Harry protested. "And it also doesn't explain why Dumbledore didn't help."

"He did. You needed to learn how to use your courage, how to face enemies, how to think on your feet, how to fight to stay alive, and even how to face death. That's why you were the one to save the Philosopher's stone."

Harry gaped at Sirius. "How did you know about that?"

"I spoke with Dumbledore last year. Your life wasn't in danger. Remember, Voldemort couldn't touch you or come after you due to your mother's protections."

"But Professor Quirrell—"

"Was possessed by Voldemort. Remember what happened to him?" Sirius tossed the rock out into the field and put his hands in his pockets. "Dumbledore was torn up pretty bad over his death and blamed himself for it. But in truth, Quirinus already gave up his soul when he voluntarily let Voldemort share his body. That meant that he couldn't hurt you."

"Quirinus?" Harry asked.

"He was a Ravenclaw, three years under us. Smart, but very secretive. Anyway, Dumbledore knew the limits of the injuries you'd receive. They were no worse than if you were training to become an Auror, which is essentially what you would have been doing had he trained you the way you wanted him to."

Harry took a few seconds to digest that. "But what about the second year?"

"Not even Dumbledore knew all the secrets of Hogwarts. He was as caught by surprise as you were. But he did know that you were figuring it out, and kept an eye on you.

"So why didn't he help?"

"My guess is that he thought you were discovering your knowledge. He would have been afraid that if he interfered, he'd do more damage than good. So he watched from the side, and only got involved when necessary, like sending the Phoenix with the Sorting Hat."

"But . . . but . . ." Harry sputtered. It made sense. It also made him . . . what? Expendable? "It's a lot of risks to take with someone else's life."

"Is it?" Sirius asked. "He knew you wouldn't be harmed the first year, and sent you what you needed the second year. He trained you the best way he knew how and it was good enough to keep you alive when Voldemort returned."

"But that doesn't excuse what happened to Ginny!" Harry snapped.

"Don't blame him for that!" Sirius's eyes narrowed and his features hardened. "If he knew Ginny was being possessed, he would've done something immediately. I suggest you remember that he died because he cared more about getting first and second years to safety than defending himself. I may have disagreed with him several times, but I never doubted him, and neither should you."

Harry didn't answer, instead thinking back over those first two years. Ron and chess, Hermione and logic games, Harry and the keys, they were all intended to help him discover exactly what about himself? That he could trust, and that he had to trust others to defeat Voldemort?

"Surprised to find that Dumbledore was training you?" Sirius asked.

"Yeah," he answered, and then gestured over Sirius's shoulder. "Looks like they found us."

Charlie, Tonks, and Fleur were standing inside the fence, staring out at them. Harry waved them over. "Where's Remus?" He asked once they were close enough.

"Up with Jacque, giving him a briefing on England," Charlie answered. "I suppose you want the same, if Sirius hasn't done it already."

"He hasn't," Harry confirmed.

Charlie glanced at Sirius, but Sirius nodded for him to continue. "Well, at the moment, Voldemort is in control of pretty much everything: the Ministry, the Wizengamot, even St. Mungo's."

"Hogwarts?"

"Not that," Charlie said. "The house-elves took the wands of the fallen wizards after that first battle. A Death Eater isn't safe within a thousand feet of Hogwarts. It's been what, eight months? and their even more brassed off now."

"What about the Order?" Fleur asked.

Charlie waved his wand and three chase lounge chairs appeared. He and Tonks sat down, and Sirius moved over to the other one, leaving the bench for Harry and Fleur. "It's more of a war council now, with various factions meeting and sharing information."

"Could you explain this, 'war council'?" Fleur asked. "It 'as a very distinct meaning in Veela 'eritage and I want to make sure I am understanding correctly."

"Remember your group of friends at the Burrow?" Sirius asked, interrupting Charlie.

Harry and Fleur both nodded.

"They're their own faction now, working independently of anyone else. Neville is their leader and attends our meetings, sharing information that they've found. Professor McGonagall and a few others are doing the same thing among the older society. The Aurors, or what's left of them, the old Order members, and others all make up different factions now."

"So the Order split apart?" Harry asked.

"Not really," Tonks answered. "At least, not like that. After talking about what happened to your parents, we figured that we'd be better off working in smaller groups, and only sharing the most general information and plans with everyone. This way, if one faction is infiltrated, it doesn't compromise the rest of the resistance."

Infiltrated . . . compromise . . . resistance—Harry knew that magical Britain was at war, but these three words hit home in a way nothing else had, not even the battles at Hogwarts and Diagon Alley. These words were used in long-term war efforts, not short-term battles from which people retreated to lick their wounds, or even flee to another country—like he did. And that meant he had to get back to England sooner rather than later.

"Will you expect me to be a part of one of those factions when I return?"

"I wouldn't think so," Fleur said, surprising him. "We'd probably end up as our own, right?"

"We? You're are not going—" he bit down on his lip. "I'm not ready to talk about that."

Fleur's complexion lightened and she let go of his hand, but she didn't pull away. He realized she was giving him a choice and took her hand again, squeezing gently. She gave him a sad smile and laid her head on his shoulder. "So, will there be a 'Arry faction?" she asked. Her voice cracked at the end.

"Only if he wants to be a part of the Order," Charlie answered. "He has his own work to do, but he's welcome, and we do have a lot of information he'll need."

"And pretty much every faction represented there will work with him," Tonks added. "Especially after being proved wrong by Neville."

Harry lifted both eyebrows. "Neville?"

"Yep," Charlie answered. "Matter of fact, he's been so effective that there's a five-thousand Galleon reward if someone can bring his body to Voldemort."

"Good luck killing Chaos," Tonks joked.

"Why do you call him 'Chaos'?" Harry asked.

"That's his nickname now, that, or Tiamat, which means the same thing. Most if not all the ancient cultures: Sumer, Akkad, Babylon, all feared chaos, and thought of it as a monster, or a god to be destroyed," Charlie answered.

"How does a dragon–handler know that?" Harry lifted up his free hand, palm out. "No offense, but I thought you'd spend your time studying . . . dragon things."

"I've been studying dragon things," Tonks interrupted in a sing-song voice.

All eyes turned to her.

"What? It's true." she said as a glint appeared in her eyes. "Ask Charlie."

"Moving on," Charlie said, "a dragon can cause complete chaos either from the air, or on the ground, and can destroy whole villages in seconds. A lot of magical historians now believe dragons are the "Tiamat" or "Chaos Monster" of old."

"But what does that have to do with Neville?" Harry asked.

"He's doing the work of ten dragons," Charlie answered. "Disrupting death Eater meetings; attacks on the Ministry; battles on the fly in Diagon Alley, Godric's Hollow, Hogsmeade; he's becoming a right disruptive force."

Harry leaned back and thought about that for second. "Good for him. I'm really starting to hate the fact that I'm here and he's there, but—"

"That's not you're concern," Sirius interrupted. "You have a very specific task ahead of you. Neville's job seems to be disrupting their everyday plans. Yours is to kill their bastard leader outright. Remember that."

Harry nodded, but he still didn't like it, nor was he hiding that fact, he realized, when Fleur pulled him in closer to her.

They talked for a couple more hours before the adults walked back up to the house. Harry and Fleur stayed, hoping to steal some time alone—the first since lying in bed together that morning.

"I heard Papa tried to 'ave the father/boyfriend talk with you," Fleur said once they were out of earshot.

He scratched the back of his head and smiled. "Yeah, it wasn't that bad, but I think it would have been easier on him if he didn't know me."

The corner of Fleur's lip pulled up. "Papa doesn't like the fact that his little girls are now adults. It's been hard on 'im. Especially Gabrielle, I think. She seems to 'ave matured as fast as I did, if not faster."

"It probably was, she's a right a pain in the arse." Harry stood up and stretched. "But I wouldn't change it if I could."

"Merde!" Fleur shook her head as she stared at him.

"What?"

"My little sister has you wrapped around her finger, doesn't she?"

He laughed. "Honest? Yeah, probably, short of hurting you, I don't think there's anything I wouldn't do for her."

Fleur took his hand in hers again and led him on a meandering path through the property. "It's okay. I think it's going to take all our efforts to keep her out of trouble. Maybe we'll even 'ave to enlist the 'elp of your Veela-chicks, no?"

Harry stopped.

"Something wrong?"

"Yeah, how do I act around them now? I don't want to hurt you or—" A finger pressed against his lips.

"Thank you, 'Arry, but I wouldn't worry about that. We are in a relationship now and the—" She stopped and blushed. "I think there's something I forgot to tell you last night. It's not bad, but I need to explain."

What else could there be? Harry asked himself. Then he realized that he knew exactly what she was about to confess and maybe, just maybe, he could even have a little fun with it. He schooled his look into one of concern and tried to act worried. "What, what is it?"

Fleur kicked at the dirt. "Um, Veela have a way of communicating with other Veela . . ."

"And?" He prompted.

"We, ah, we can . . . tell them—when we're interested in someone."

"Interested?" Harry interrupted, his eyes going wide. "You mean you're just 'interested' in me?"

"No, that's not what I meant."

"So, you're not interested in me?" He asked, letting go of her hand and crossing his arms. He fought back a grin.

"I didn't say that!" she shot back. "I'm trying to explain what I did!"

He raised an eyebrow. "You did something to me?"

"I—yeah. And that's what I'm trying to tell you if you just shut—"

"Was it when we were sleeping last night? You should have woke me up; I probably would've enjoyed it a lot more."

The shock clear in her wide eyes was almost too much and he decided to show her a little mercy. "It's okay, I think I know what you're trying to tell me, but you're not really doing a very good job of it."

She pushed him away. "Of all the wizards in the world, I 'ave to fall for an Englishman." She threw her hands up in the air. "Do the Veela gods hate me?"

"Hey," Harry said. "It's not the fault of the Veela gods that you marked a 'leetle Eenglish boy'."

Fleur froze in place, except for her jaw, which dropped almost to her chest, and Harry began to contemplate the wisdom in teasing a mature Veela.

"You . . . you know about marking?" she asked. "How?"

"Azzurra. When I was laid up in the hospital wing, she came in one day, leaned in, and sniffed. It was all she needed."

Fleur tilted her head to the side and pursed her lips. Harry recognized that look, and wondered if it was innate for all Veela. He knew what it meant, and braced himself.

"Don't lie to me," she said. "There's only one way to verify the mark."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

Harry was sure that the look in Fleur's eyes turned mischievous and maybe even a little predatory. She took a step forward. "I haven't forgotten how you took advantage of my little sister, making her verify the mark on you."

Harry opened his mouth, and then closed it, realizing that he had just lost complete control of the conversation, and stepped back.

"So, which one of your Veela-chicks kissed you?" she asked.

"Um, what?" Harry answered, sporting his own blush now and backing up another couple of steps.

"You heard me." She matched his steps, looking even more like a predator. "It's the only way to verify the mark, and I've met your Veela-Chicks 'Arry. They're very beautiful." Fleur's voice was somewhere between a growl and a purr as she took another step towards him. "So, was it Azzurra? All that power, a natural Veela and Italian on top of it—or wait! Was she on top of you?"

"No!"

"Was it Jaleena? She has such beautiful eyes, wide and inviting, were her lips just as inviting?"

Harry rapidly shook his head back and forth to protest his innocence and took another step backwards, smack into the trunk of a tree.

"It must have been Médée, then," she continued, moving forward like a huntress on her prey. "Those pouty lips and messy hair, it almost makes me wish I cast my spells on the home team."

Harry's eyes went wide and Fleur moved even closer. "So, it was Médée. Maybe we could ask her to join us some time. Would you like that, 'Arry?"

He was gobsmacked as Fleur pushed her body against his, then leaned in, her lips right up against his ear. "Never tease a Veela, leetle Eenglishman, we always win." She kissed him on the cheek and stepped back, a little grin pulling at her lips.

"Are all Veela evil, or just the Delacours?" he asked a few minutes later when he could think straight.

"All Veela, but the Delacour's are a special kind." She flashed that wicked grin again. "But I think you like me like that."

She led them off again, hand-in-hand up the hill through the gardens. "Maman told me the mark was growing stronger, though I figured it was since my feelings were growing deeper as well. And since it's normal for a Veela to verify the mark while it's still in that stage," she shrugged. "But you don't have to worry about that now. Veela will treat you differently now that we're together."

"How's that?" he asked.

"The mark. They can tell that we're together now so most of them will be less flirty, but more open." They walked a few more steps before she continued. "I want you to be honest with me about something, though."

"Only if I won't lose my life."

She gave him a playful swat on the arm. "I'm serious, and I do want your honest answer."

"Okay," he said, though it didn't come out nearly as strong as he wished it did.

"Are you mad at me for marking you?"

He stopped walking and waited until she stopped and turned around to face him. "No. It's what convinced me that you still cared for me, though I wish you would have told me, instead of the way I found it."

"How did you, by the way?" she asked.

"The whole story?"

Her eyes lit up. "Of course. Knowing you, it was probably dramatic and maybe even life-threatening."

He rolled his eyes and then proceeded to tell her everything: how he challenged Azzurra, how she shrunk her uniform and Harry's comments about it to Professor Sirko, and even the trip to Milan. Fleur laughed and guffawed throughout the story, though he thought she didn't find the part about clothes shopping and Médée's hands as funny as he did. ". . . And that's how I found out. It's probably why I did what I did when I walked into the party. Well that and . . ."

"And what" she prompted.

"Do you remember the Phoenix song, when I was fighting Voldemort last spring?"

"We didn't hear it then. But I did when I viewed the memories later."

"Wait, why did you go back and watch the battle?"

She looked away and Harry almost missed it when she began to explain. "I missed you so much and I didn't know when I'd see you again, so I started using one of the Pensieves at work."

"You won't have to worry about that anymore," Harry promised.

"What about England?" she asked, and then turned back to him, her hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry, forget that I said that."

"No, I guess it's something we need to talk about."

They walked up to the house and through the sliding glass doors into her bedroom. Harry waited until she sat down on the bed. He could feel his heart beating a little faster, but tried to ignore it. "I . . . I don't want you to go back to England," he began, "only to see again what we saw and fight again for your life; the prophecy is about me and because of the Horcrux, we both know where it will end—"

"Don't say that!" she interrupted. "We haven't even had a chance to talk with Papa or Professor Sirko yet."

"I know, but how long can I sit and wait for an answer while Neville and the rest of them are out there fighting? How can I trade their lives for mine?"

Her expression changed to a blank, almost haughty look, and he was reminded of the Fleur Delacour that first stepped out of the Carriage all those months ago at Hogwarts. She set her jaw firm and looked him dead in the eye. "You're right," she said. "You should go back. But who am I to sit here and not do anything? I think I should help you meet our destiny in England, No?"

Helping . . . our destiny . . . wait! Damn, damn, damn! This was not how this conversation was supposed to go. Harry clamped down on his emotions—and his tongue so he wouldn't say anything stupid—and spoke calmly, but straight from the heart. "You're the reason I've made it this far. You know that everyone else I cared about back there are dead, except Neville and the others upstairs."

"And that's another reason I should go back with you."

He closed his eyes. "No, Fleur. I still dream about it, about carrying their bodies: Hermione, Ron, Ginny; I wake up at night and swear I can feel their blood on my hands and chest. They even talk to me sometimes." He opened his eyes again. "They tell me never to let you come back to England, or the next body I'll be carrying with me is yours. I can't do that, Fleur. I can't lose you. You're the only thing that's keeping me . . ."

"What? Keeping you what?" she pressed gently.

"Sane," he lied, but it was close enough.

Fleur's facade cracked and her voice began to shake. "But how can I let you go off to die? What if I can get you to the Healers in time after you're hit with a curse and you— It happens enough in the Vulgaire world! That would destroy the Horcrux and you'd be free, right?"

"I don't know, but the chances—"

"I don't care about chances! I can't just let you walk off into a Killing Curse!"

"I know," he said after a few seconds of silence. "I know." He pulled her closer and she wrapped her arms around him as they fell back on the bed.

They lay there for a little while before Fleur said, "It was Veela that the Vulgaire confused with Guardian Angels. We have a fierce protectiveness for those we're close to, and it's not easy to overcome."

"I learned that this fall, but can you understand that it's the same way I feel about you?"

Fleur buried her face in his chest. "I don't want to," she admitted, "So what are we going to do? It's going to take you tying me up to the bedpost to get me to stay here when you go back to Britain. I can't just sit around while you march off to your death – and since you feel the exact opposite . . ." she let the sentence hang.

"I don't know," he confessed, and held her even tighter.

They lay in silence with her head on his chest and his arms around her as the shadows grew longer. He had just about fallen asleep when she popped back up. "Wait a second!"

He opened one eye.

"When you go back, it won't be straight to a battle. I mean, you'll meet with the Order first, find out what's been going on and what you need to do, yes?"

Harry thought about that for a second. "I guess, why?"

"Well," Fleur continued, "what if, for now, we agree that I go with you to the meetings? We'll come back here after them, since it's safer for you until you're ready to do whatever you need to do. Then once we have an idea of what that is, we can discuss whether I'm going back with you for good. This way, we don't fight over it, and at least we'll know more before we have to make any decisions."

And that way, Harry thought to himself, you get to win the Order to your side, make it so that I can't stand being out of your presence, and then win the argument by default. But there really weren't any other options, so he closed his eyes and hoped that she'd see how much this was about to hurt him. "Fine, but that doesn't mean I like it."

Fleur traced a finger down the center of his nose, stopping on his lips. "I think I like this."

"What? Winning?"

She flicked him on his nose. "No, telling me what you're thinking, and then us talking about it."

Harry ran his hand across his forehead. "Um, in that case . . . can I ask you something?"

"Oui?" she encouraged him.

"Well, you suggested something that sounds like fun. I wanted to see if we could try it."

Fleur propped herself up on his chest. "What do you have in mind?"

"Well, you did mention something about me tying you up to the bedpost. It sounded like fun." He raised both hands in the air to celebrate his victory as she pulled one of the covers up to bury her face in it. He leaned in. "Never underestimate a leetle Eenglish wizard, not even if you're an evil Veela."

He heard her say something that sounded an awful lot like, "Bloody prat," and the English phrase made him laugh all the harder.

X ~ X ~ X ~ X

"So, do you know who I am?" Harry asked, standing in the middle of the larger sitting room later that evening. He was only a foot away from the wizard facing him. Not once, ever, had Harry traded on his name before. He wouldn't have dared do it at Hogwarts. But since his fame had rocketed in magical France; thanks to the papers that were reporting what happened last spring and no doubt, due to what this wizard he was facing represented; he figured this would be a perfect time to start.

The young man looked him up and down and up again, and then fixated on the scar on his forehead. "YOU'RE—"

"There's no reason to shout!" He cut the wizard off, and crossed his arms, his wand clearly visible. "But since you know who I am, I take it that you also know what I'm capable of?"

The wizard's head bounced up and down.

"Good. Now, look to you're right, do you see that wizard there?"

The young man's eyes got even wider.

"Do you recognize him?"

"Th – that's Sirius Black!"

"It is," Harry confirmed. "Do you know what he was arrested for?"

"Mass Murder!"

"That's right," he said. "And he's the only person to have ever escaped from Azkaban. Do you see the wizard sitting next to him, the one with muscles on top of muscles and scars covering half of his body?"

The poor kid nodded once more.

"He's a dragon-handler. I've personally seen him wrestle whole Dragons into their pens, and you're about the size of a dragon's front paw. Next to him is his girlfriend. I should remind you that she's a trained Auror, not to mention a few other talents she has."

Tonks raised an eyebrow and Fleur choke back a laugh from her side of the couch.

"I haven't even gotten to my Professor for Defense against the Dark Arts, my very powerful Veela girlfriend, her half-Veela mother, and the war-hero father all sitting in this room. So it goes without saying, you're going to treat Gabrielle with absolute respect tonight, am I right?"

The boy nodded very enthusiastically.

"And your hands will remain completely off her body?"

"Completely!"

"And if you don't have her home by the time her father says, you know that everyone I've just pointed out is going with me on a hunting expedition . . . and you're the game, right?"

Another nod confirmed that he understood the terms.

"Good. Want to sit on the couch and wait for Gabrielle?"

"No thank you, I think I'll wait outside." The young wizard all but ran out of the room and downstairs, where they heard him quickly pulling on his cloak and slamming the front door behind him.

"Congratulations," Sirius said over the laughter. "I think he just bricked his trousers."

"I want to know what 'talents' Harry thinks I have?" Tonks said.

"Oh, belt up, Nymphadora," he answered, and danced out of the way of a stinging hex. He caught movement from the corner of his eyes just before he heard her voice.

"What's going on in here . . . and where's my date?" Gabrielle asked.

Harry's his heart jumped into his throat. A white blouse just shy of tight and covering just enough to be appropriate was set off by a pair of Muggle jeans that emphasized all the right – er, wrong parts of her legs and derriere. Her hair was slightly curled and pulled back off her neck with a clip, but still fell down her back. In a word, she was stunning, and if that ponce outside even thought about touching her—

"My date?" she asked again.

"He's outside," Mrs. Delacour said. "I'll walk you to the door."

Harry turned to her father as they left the room. "You're seriously going to let her out of the house?"

"Taking the 'protective big brother' thing a little serious, are we?" Remus asked.

"Did you see her? And trust me, you don't know her! The way that wicked little Veela works, you'd better hope France isn't at war by night's end."

Mr. Delacour chuckled. "Unfortunately, she's an adult now. The only reason she even agreed to a curfew was to placate me. So yeah, I have to let her out looking like that. And in twenty years or so, you may know exactly how it feels."

The blood drained out of Harry's face.

"Come here," Fleur said. She was giggling as she held out her hand to him.

He walked over and she pulled him down on the couch, then slipped her legs up over his. "I know better than anyone how that 'wicked little Veela' works, but it'll be okay for one night." She smiled at him. "By the way, your protective streak is quite adorable."

"Adorable?" Paige said, walking out of the kitchen. She had stopped by to welcome Harry back, since she didn't have much of a chance to do so the previous night. "I'm not sure 'adorable' was the word you used after he saved Gabrielle."

"I didn't save her!" Harry protested.

"Doesn't matter," Paige said. She crossed the hall into the open sitting room, and sat in a chair with her fresh cup of coffee. "'Hot,' 'young,' and 'sexy as hell' is what I remember from one morning at breakfast. 'Delicious' may have been another one, I think."

"That's enough," Fleur warned.

"No, please, go on." Harry said. "I'd love to hear more of what she thought of me."

"When your name first came out of the Goblet . . ." They talked and laughed over the next few hours, until the door opened at ten that evening, a full hour before they expected Gabrielle.

"Everything go okay?" Her mother asked.

"NO!" Gabrielle yelled, turning the corner and glaring at her mother. "How could it have?"

"He didn't—" her father started, but was cut off immediately.

"Of course not! It seems that SOMEONE decided to have a little talk with him! He wouldn't even sit next to me at dinner or hold my hand!"

Harry blinked and then let out a breath. "Thank you, Merlin!"

Gabrielle slowly turned towards him. "Thank. You. Merlin? He wouldn't even give me a goodnight kiss—on the cheek! And YOU are to blame. You better cast every charm and ward you can think of to keep yourself safe when you fall asleep tonight, Harry Potter!" She stormed off to the bedroom and slammed the door.

Harry continued to stare at the space, but behind him, he heard her father say, "Thank you."

He turned to Mr. Delacour, who genuinely seemed relieved. "For what?"

"For keeping her safe tonight, and for letting me get a good night's sleep. I stayed awake all night in fear the first time Fleur came home from a date like that."

"It's a good thing too," Mrs. Delacour reminded him. "She was waiting in the hallway for you to fall asleep."

Harry's eyes went wide and he looked at Fleur. "Don't you even think about it," she answered his unspoken question. "I'm sleeping in my bed tonight and you're sleeping downstairs—if you trust your wards enough to fall asleep, that is. I'm not sure I would."

"Thanks a lot," he said, and yawned. "Might as well go to bed now and get it over."

Harry was sitting on his bed and reading that stupid poem again, trying to figure out what it meant when he heard footsteps coming down the hall. "You should've at least waited until I've had a chance to fall asleep."

"It's not Gabrielle," a female voice answered.

"Hold on a second," he said in surprise. Harry looked around the Floor and found a pair sweats, and shirt to pull on. "Okay, come in."

The door opened and Mrs. Delacour walked into the room. She looked around at his room before sitting on the bed next to him. "Been an exciting twenty-four hours, hasn't it?" she asked, a mischievous grin danced on her features.

Harry wondered just how innate a Veela's expressions really were. "I guess so. I should probably apologize to Gabby tomorrow and take what I've got coming."

"I wouldn't," she said. "At least don't apologize for protecting her. Do you know how worried normal parents are when their daughter goes out on their first date, let alone the parents of a Veela?"

"No, but I'm thinking that I'm starting to find out."

She laughed. "I came down here to say thank you. But I am also curious why you're so protective of her."

"I don't know," he confessed. "She can probably handle herself in most situations just fine. I guess I still want to see the little Gabrielle that I pulled up from the lake. The same one that wouldn't let go of me the rest of that day."

Mrs. Delacour brushed away the strands of hair that had fallen in his face. It was a very intimate, maternal moment that Harry again soaked up. "And you want to protect her like you did that day, save her from the evils of the world? Maybe like some of the ones you've seen?"

Harry's throat grew dry at the turn of the conversation. "Is that so bad?" he managed to choke out.

She watched him for a second, and then continued as if she didn't hear his question. "And if I'm guessing right, you want to protect Fleur from those evils too, yes? They're the reasons you don't want her going with you back to England?"

She raised a hand to stop his protest. "That's not how Fleur said it. In truth, she was very complimentary about the way you handled the discussion with her today, but could you answer my question?"

He nodded. "There's no reason my world should taint theirs."

Mrs. Delacour placed a hand on his cheek. "It's our world too, 'Arry. You'll never know how much I appreciate the fact that you're trying to keep them safe, Jacque too, for that matter." She stood up and walked to the door. "But, please remember something."

"What's that?" he asked.

"Fleur and Gabrielle aren't your 'Ermione, or any of the other Weasleys. You can't bring them back by protecting my girls."

"I know that!"

"Good. Then you also know that you can't protect them from all the evil in this world. They're going to meet it on their own terms, with or without you. And when they do, it's not going to be your fault. They're both adults by Veela law, and they are responsible for their own decisions.

"One last thing, though it goes without saying."

Harry pulled on his ponytail, not wanting to think about either Veela he cared about getting hurt, and not sure he wanted to hear anything else at the moment. But there was no way he would be rude to the woman who opened her house, and her arms to him. "Yes?"

She walked back towards him and knelt, now eye level with him. "They both love you more than anyone else except their parents, and for Fleur, that exception may not last much longer. Jacque and I love you as well." Her eyes welled up with tears. "Thank you for being a part of our family, Harry." She kissed him on the forehead and stepped out of the room.

X ~ X ~ X ~ X

The next morning, Harry woke up before the sun had risen. He decided to keep his training up and ran around the property a few times, hoping it was equal distance to a lap around the lakes, then started in on his other exercises.

Two hours later, showered and dressed, Harry walked into Fleur's room with a tray of food and a cup of tea. "Froissé said you've developed a taste for English tea?"

"She's right," Fleur answered, and sat up in bed. She threw the covers open so he could climb in.

"Not this morning, I need to clear the air with Gabrielle."

Fleur motioned him closer and kissed him. "Good luck with that, hope to see you again someday."

"Yeah, me too," he said, and she took the opportunity to kiss him again. Then Harry remembered the other reason he was here, dipped his finger into the small helping of strawberry jelly, and splotched Fleur's nose with it.

"See you later." He almost got to the door.

"'Arry?" she purred.

The way she said his name sent shivers down his body and he couldn't help but turn back to her. "Yes?"

She wiped the jelly off with a finger and then held it out in front of her. With one long, slow lick, she cleaned her finger. "Oh, nothing," she said, and took a bite of the toast.

He turned and walked out of the door. "Evil Veela! Evil, evil, evil."

"Don't forget wicked," she called after him.

There was no doubt about that, he thought to himself, as he knocked on Gabrielle's door. When she didn't answer, he pushed it open to find her sound asleep in a short shirt and knickers. She had kicked off the covers in the middle of the night, so he pulled them back up before sitting next to her on the bed. "Gabrielle?"

She made a couple of cute sounds and went right back to sleep. He laid a hand on her arm. "Gabrielle, time to wake up."

"Five more minutes," she said, and rolled away from him.

"Can't, your maman wants you up."

Gabrielle pulled the covers over her head and he fought to keep from laughing. "Come on, Gabby."

"Go away, unless you want me to curse the magic out of you – and I still owe you."

"Yeah, about that," he said. "I didn't mean to ruin your evening. I was just worried about you."

She rolled back over and glared at him. "Why would you be worried?"

He picked at the fabric pills on the bedspread. "Because you're my favorite Veela sister and I don't think anybody on this planet is good enough for you." He snuck a look out of the corner of his eye and thought he saw the corner of her lip creep up.

"So that means you're going to ruin all my dates?" she asked.

"I'll tone it down. But I am going to make sure that they know what'll happen if they let themselves get out of control and hurt you."

"Great, so they'll still be afraid."

Harry found a whole other pile of fabric pills to pick at. "How about this," he said after a moment of thought. "I'll warn them that your 'no' means 'no' and your 'yes' means 'maybe'."

She huffed.

"That's the best you're going to get," he informed her.

"Fine! But it doesn't make up for last night."

"So what would?" he asked, and wondered how much more she could wrap him around her finger.

She thought for a second. "I'm going to call him today and find out if he'll go out with me again, and the next time, you're going to talk to him like a normal person."

Harry took a deep breath. "Okay."

There was no doubting the grin this time. "But remember," he said, "where you're concerned, I have very high standards when it comes to wizards."

Her eyes grew soft and she pushed herself up to hug him. "This is how I always imagined it."

"What's that?" he asked."

"Having a big brother. Now get out of my room unless you want another look at my cute little ass."

"No thanks," Harry assured her, and then pointed to the walls as he stood up. "Nice pictures."

She had the courtesy to look chagrined. "Sorry. I was infatuated with you before last year. Then after the second task, well, what little girl wouldn't have pictures of her hero up on her wall?"

"You weren't in danger," he said automatically.

"I know, but it did get Fleur to notice you. So it can't be all bad."

He picked up a spare pillow, threw it at her, and left the room.

"By the way," she said as he stepped out. "I always kick my covers off when I sleep. So how did you like the view?"

He hit her with a tickling charm and slammed the door shut behind him.

Sirius and the others left on the Tuesday following the Christmas party, though he promised that he'd try to make it back for New Year's Eve. But even with them gone, the next week was possibly the best in Harry's life. He exercised in the mornings before dawn, spent the day with Fleur laughing, joking, and scheming against Gabrielle, and even had some time in the evenings to finish reading A Dark Journey to Power.

The last few stories were darker than anything he'd ever heard of before, with the possible exception of the Horcruxes. One story, in gory detail, explained how one Dark wizard murdered another in a blood ritual, and then possessed him as he was dying to steal his magic. What was even more frightening, was that it worked, until the wizard went insane a few hours later. From there, the stories just got worse.

Harry shelved the book and finished getting dressed. It was the twenty-fourth of December, and Gabrielle made Harry and Fleur promise that they would go with her to Paris that evening.

The doorbell rang fifteen minutes before they were to leave. "I'll get it!" Gabrielle said, and ran down the stairs. She appeared a couple of minutes later, pulling a boy by the arm. "This is Locum. You all met him last time, but apparently didn't bother to get his name." She stared at Harry. "Introduce yourself again . . . nicely this time, please."

Harry stepped forward and shook his hand. "Hi, Locum. Sorry about last time, I guess I got a little carried away trying to protect Gabby."

"A little?" Gabrielle asked.

"Alright, quite a bit."

"And this," she continued. "Is my sister, Fleur. She and Harry are dating, finally." Locum gave Fleur a quick look and a self-deprecating smile before averting his eyes.

"Don't worry," Gabrielle said. "You'll get sick to your stomach watching Fleur and 'Arry fawn all over each other tonight. After that, you won't have a problem looking at her, though you probably won't want to." She gave Harry another look before continuing. "Hypocrites."

"What did I do?" Fleur asked, hands out from her sides and her eyebrows pulled together.

"Nothing. That's the point!" She turned to her parents. "And this is my Papa and Maman."

Harry covered his mouth to stop from laughing at the look Fleur was shooting at Gabrielle.

At the same time, Locum shook Mr. Delacour's hand and smiled at Mrs. Delacour in much the same way he did at Fleur. Harry wondered if he had permanently frightened the wizard.

"Relax, Locum," Mrs. Delacour said, "we appreciate the deference you're showing us, but we're also used to the occasional stare."

"Oui, Madame Delacour."

At least he gets points for being respectful, Harry thought. And he knows how to dress like a Muggle as well. Regular jeans and a heavy blue jumper under a coat wasn't that bad of an outfit on a night like this.

His assessment of the ponce went up a few notches. Now he was just a git for dating Gabrielle. "Ready to go?" Harry asked.

They walked over to the Floo in the smaller sitting room. "Aren't you taking a coat, 'Arry?" Mrs. Delacour asked.

"Naa, the jumper is made for school, It'll be fine."

"School?" Locum asked.

"Durmstrang. It's gets cold there."

Locum raised his eyebrows in surprise, but didn't say anything else until he threw his handful of Floo powder into the fireplace and called out, "Rue de la Magie."

Gabrielle turned around to Fleur and Harry before following her date. "Behave, and be nice! Or so help me I'll get grandma to throw fireballs at the both of you!" She stepped into the Floo and disappeared.

"How did I get included in this?" Fleur asked the empty fireplace. She shook her head and took a handful of powder, then looked at Harry. "I guess I'll go next, I'd rather be the one to catch you. Gabrielle's liable to hit you with a Tripping Jinx instead, though you really don't need the help." She gave him a cute wink and called out her destination.

Harry took a handful of powder, but Mr. Delacour spoke up behind him. "Could you remember something tonight?"

He turned around. "What's that?"

"Gabrielle's going to try and rile you up a bit tonight, but she also wants your approval, more than you can imagine." Harry mulled that over as he followed the powder into the green flames. The fireplace on the other side spit him out and he fell right into Fleur's arms.

"You really need to learn how to travel by Floo, love," she said.

"If it's not a broom, I'm not interested," he answered. "Besides, if I get to fall into your arms every time, why should I learn? OUCH." He spun around to find Gabrielle standing there with her wand extended towards him. "Why did you hit me with a Stinging Jinx?"

"Oh, dear beautiful Fleur," she mocked, both hands over her heart, "if I get to fall into your lovely arms every time, why should I even spend a moment learning how not to do so." Her arms dropped the side. "It was bad, 'Arry, horribly bad. You deserved more than a Stinging Jinx, but I went easy on you this time."

Harry looked over to Locum. "Lesson one, Veela girlfriends are wicked. Always remember that."

"Wicked?" Fleur asked. "You haven't seen wicked yet." She put an arm around Gabrielle and led them away from the Floo center. Harry and Locum followed.

"See what I mean?" he said, low enough that neither Veela could hear.

"I'm not stupid enough to answer that," Locum answered.

"Smart. So how did the two of you meet?"

They all walked into Paris proper. "Dueling club," he answered. "She cheated and hit me with that Veela magic and followed with a curse that sat me on my rear end."

Harry threw his head back and laughed. "What was she doing at a dueling club?" he asked once he found his voice again. "I thought she was being homeschooled this semester."

"I wondered about that," he confessed. "My parents are American government workers so my brothers and I are taught in an American school. It sponsors the club. Gabrielle came with a friend. That's where I met her."

"How is she?"

"Excuse me?" Locum asked, and paled a little.

"At dueling. Is she any good?"

"Oh, like I said, she sat me on my rear-end. I'm the oldest person in the club and one of the better ones. She held her own against me until she got frustrated and cheated. So I'd say she's pretty good."

Maybe he didn't have to worry as much as he thought. Harry stepped aside for a couple that were more into watching each other than where they were walking.

"What are you two talking about?" Gabrielle asked, looking back at them.

"You," Harry said. "Now turn around and be quiet."

She narrowed her eyes and he laughed at her until she turned back around. Then asked another question, "I wonder why she went to a dueling club."

"I figured it was because she wanted to learn how to protect herself from idiots that couldn't take 'no' for an answer. If I'm being honest, I partnered with her because I figured that if she could out-duel me, she'd at least have a fair chance with someone else."

"Thanks," Harry said, and reassessed Locum upwards again. Now he was just a prat. They continued talking until Fleur and Gabrielle stopped on the sidewalk.

"Look," Fleur said, pointing up when they reached her and Gabrielle.

Harry followed where she was pointing and saw the Eiffel Tower jutting into the star-filled night. His stomach tightened and he tried to fight off the reminders of the last time they were here. But Fleur somehow read his mind. "Hopefully, this'll be a better memory," she said, and slowly went up on the tips of her toes, her lips brushing against his.

He kissed her back, desperately trying to erase the previous memories. But when he opened his mouth to breathe, Fleur introduced him to a new world that he had only heard about. It was called, aptly, French kissing. Her arms came around him and pulled his head down, deepening the kiss, then she leaned back slightly and bit his bottom lip softly, pulling back a little more and letting her teeth slide over the sensitive skin.

"Better memory?" she asked.

"What memory?" he answered.

"That's what I wanted to hear."

"If the two of you are finished putting on a show, can we go see the lights now?" They both looked over to see Gabrielle standing next to Locum. She had his hand in hers and, to Harry's amusement, he looked both happy about it and somewhat terrified.

"You really have him afraid of you," Fleur said as they followed the couple up the street.

"I have no idea why," he said innocently.

"Right," she teased. "Your show last week has nothing to do with it."

"Maybe just a little, but I wonder if he even realizes I'm two years younger than him."

"Doubt it," she answered.

They crossed the street and walked up Champs Elysées. Harry couldn't help but be impressed. Lights adorned everything: trees were lit up in shades of blue and purple; and white lights were strung on metal spheres that created the illusion of Christmas ornaments the size of a small house, with green and purple lights giving off the impression of flowers. At the end, was a giant carousel that Fleur and Gabrielle insisted they ride.

Harry bought tickets and, once it was their turn, climbed into the basket with Fleur. He conjured a cushion unnoticed to keep them off the cold metal seat, and was rewarded with a beaming smile. She laid her head on his shoulder and pointed out views of the city.

When it stopped, their bucket was already past ground level, so they moved a few feet up at a time as people exited below. Harry and Fleur had just reached the top part of the ride when Gabrielle, who was in the bucket in front of them, pointed something out to Locum on her side of the ride.

"You little tramp!" Fleur whispered.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Watch her closely."

Locum leaned over to look. Gabrielle said something, and pointed down a bit more. He stretched to see it, and she attached her lips to his. Locum slipped in his seat, and they both fell down below the edge of the bucket and out of sight.

Harry and Fleur looked at each other, and broke out in laughter, though they tried to keep it quiet for Gabrielle's sake.

"Evil and wicked don't even begin to describe her," Harry said.

"Maybe," Fleur said, "But I think she has the right idea, no?"

Harry's lips were too busy for him to worry about anything until they were out of the carousel and walking back up towards the Eiffel Tower. "Maybe you should study dueling a little more," Harry said to Locum, as they crossed the bridge over the Seine River. "A fourteen-year-old shouldn't be able to take advantage of you like that back there."

Locum stopped on the spot and faced Gabrielle. "How old are you?"

Fleur turned on her. "You didn't tell him?

Gabrielle leaned against the cement railing. "I'm a legal adult. It doesn't matter and you know it. The only reason I let Papa set a time for me last week was so he felt better."

"Wait a second, legal?" Locum said.

Harry took pity on him. "Veela mature extremely fast after puberty. Gabrielle is probably equal to a twenty-year-old witch in pretty much every way imaginable."

"That's true," Fleur said. "But it's Veela custom to tell the wizard their real age so there are no surprises."

"I guess she's right," Gabrielle said. "I kind of forgot that part, seeing as this is only my second date."

Locum gave Gabrielle a long, hard look, and then turned to Fleur. "Are you sure it's okay. I mean, I'm eighteen and where I come from, there are laws against this kind of thing."

Fleur gave him a genuine, warm smile. "Don't worry," she answered. "Our laws trump the Magical French laws when it comes to Veela relationships."

"I guess it doesn't matter," he said. "It's not like I was planning on having sex—" he stopped, and blushed.

Well, so much for even calling him a prat. "Seems you're a right good bloke after all," Harry said. "Let's get going. There's a coffee shop up the way that Gabrielle enjoys."

"Decaf," Fleur reminded Gabrielle when her eyes lit up.

They made it back to the Floo Station three hours later. Gabrielle wrapped her arms around Locum and planted a kiss on his lips. "Thanks, I had a great night."

She threw powder into the Floo and stepped in.

"I warned you," Harry said with a grin.

"That you did. It was nice to meet you, Harry, and you as well, Fleur."

Then he too stepped into the Floo.

Fleur went next, followed by Harry, who tripped and once again fell into her arms.

"I'm beginning to think you do this on purpose," she remarked.

"Not at all, though it might be a reason not to learn how to do it properly."

Gabrielle rolled her eyes at the two of them and walked off to her room.

X ~ X ~ X ~ X

"Could you pass me the boudin blanc?" Danielle asked.

Harry obliged, and wondered how all Veela could look alike, and yet so different. Danielle had a longer, narrow face with a smile that overtook everything else.

"And then they both disappeared into the bucket?" she clarified.

"That's about it," Fleur said. She nudged Harry, who was sitting on her right, and nodded towards Paige sitting next to Danielle across the table.

"So, Gabrielle, did you enjoy yourself?" Paige asked.

"It was a fun night."

"I'm sure it was," Danielle mocked.

"But what I'm interested in, was how much you enjoyed being under him on the Ferris wheel."

"Would you all please shut up!" Gabrielle said, banging her fork on the table. "Damn nosy Veela-hens!"

"So let me get this straight." Harry threw an arm over his chair and turned to look straight at her. "When it's you, they're all nosy Veela-hens, but when it's Fleur and me, then it's . . ."

"So screwed up it took a bunch of Veela and you almost killing yourself on the side of a mountain to knock any sense into you."

"Wow," Danielle said. "You weren't kidding, Paige. A mouth and an attitude to back it up. And I thought I was bad."

"You are bad," said the oldest Veela cousin from a few seats away. "I doubt Gabrielle uses her mouth for the same things you do."

Harry chuckled, and continued to pick at his meal, thinking that this was one part of French culture that he could really get used to. Christmas Eve was never like this, even at Hogwarts. A midnight dinner by the third Floor fireplace with all of Mrs. Delacour's family in attendance, was far beyond anything he had ever imagined. Mr. Delacour even seemed to be enjoying himself. His only sibling was a brother that died in the first war and his parents were long since passed away, so there was no family in attendance for him. He wondered if that's why Mr. Delacour seemed to understand Harry better than most adults did.

The meal itself was exquisite, with goose, turkey stuffed with chestnuts, and oysters all served as main dishes. Once again, he found it humorous that Veela would eat something out of their own biological classification, but he wasn't brave enough to ask about it. Speaking of Veela, he was surrounded by some of the most beautiful women he could have ever imagined. A few of them had to have been full Veela, as they seemed to glow in the darkened hall. What would Ron have been thinking now? What if he made it out of that battle alive and they were sitting here together, enjoying the food and conversation? He would have loved it, if he didn't fall under their spell like the both of them did at the World Cup. Then again, Hermione would take care of snapping him out of it. Probably with a kick to the shin—if she hadn't already lost herself asking about Veela heritage and history and magic, and biology and—

"Harry? You okay?"

Harry came back to the present, and realized that Gabrielle was looking at him with a concerned expression.

"I was just thinking about a couple of friends I wished were here. This is unbelievable. I've never experienced anything like it."

Her eyes turned glassy. "You belong here. This is going to be normal for you, no matter what happens in the future between you and Fleur."

Harry felt a hand on the back of his neck, under his hair. "She's right," Fleur said. "And I expect to see you at many of these meals."

Harry caught the not so subtle message and smiled at her. Tonight was not a night to discuss Horcruxes. But it made him feel that much more wanted, all the same.

A fork scraped across Harry's plate. "You need more pudding," Gabrielle informed him, with a smudge of it on her upper lip.

"Git," Harry teased. "Anything else you want off my plate?"

She tousled his hair and shook her head, then stood up to help her maman with something.

"I'm not kidding," Fleur said low enough so no one else could hear. "I don't care what you think; I expect to see you here every year for a very long time. Do you understand me?"

Harry gazed into eyes that were both fierce and begging. "I can't promise anything, but that's my hope."

The conversation stayed light for the rest of the meal, as did the banter afterwards, until Harry went to bed. He turned off his alarm, deciding to give himself a day off from training. But the next morning, he awoke to four Veela jumping on his bed before the sun broke across the horizon.

"Merry Christmas!" Gabrielle, Paige, and Danielle shouted.

"You don't want to know their original plans," Fleur said, sitting next to him.

"Oh, shut up, you old buzzard." Danielle flashed a big smile at Fleur, then at Harry. "So our cousin finally found someone she thinks is good enough for her—very mature, Fleur!"

Harry glanced back and saw Fleur sticking her tongue out at Danielle.

"Anyway, whether she's smart enough to keep you or not—though she better—Paige, myself, and the others wanted to welcome you to the family with this." She gestured to Paige, who lifted a wrapped package in the air.

"Merry Christmas," Paige said, and handed it over.

"Thanks, but, I didn't get anything for you. I mean, no one told me—"

"Don't worry, 'Arry," Fleur said. "It's tradition to only buy presents for immediate family. So whatever it is, they weren't expecting anything from you."

"So go on, open it already!" Paige said.

The other cousins, seven Veela in all, walked into the room. "It's from all of us," Susanne said. Harry remembered her as the cousin that teased Danielle the night before. As it turns out, they were sisters, and she was the oldest of the cousins as well, six years ahead of Fleur, if Harry remembered right from last night.

He looked at Fleur again, and was somewhat dismayed by the confusion in her eyes. "Might as well open it," she said. "If it's a practical joke, we can jinx them all again later."

Harry reached for the present, but stopped. "Wait, how did all you get past my charms?"

All eyes turned to Fleur. "I was able to charm a dragon to sleep, don't look so surprised if I can figure out your charms. They were pretty basic, after all."

"I think we're going to have a little talk later," he threatened,

"Oooh, maybe he'll spank you!" Susanne teased.

"Behave!" Fleur said. "I didn't remove the charms so you could all abuse my boyfriend."

"Right, that's your job," Gabrielle suggested.

Paige held up her hands. "Enough! The present, 'Arry!"

He obeyed, and carefully undid the wrapping, making sure to appreciate the obvious care that had gone into it. Underneath was a plain brown box. He slit the top open, only to find two other boxes, protected by a Cushioning charm. Fleur took care of that, and He lifted the first one out and slit it open. Inside was a pure diamond ball the size of a snitch, with the four points of the compass rotating on a plane horizontal to the ground, no matter which way he turned the diamond.

"I—"

"Shh," Paige said. "Open the other one."

He picked up the box, and realized it had a top on it. He pulled it off and found something metal inside. He lifted it out and the lights of the room reflected off a bright golden disk about a quarter-inch thick. It had a center knob made of ivory, from which a silver piece of metal extended three inches to the end of the disk. Below that was another layer of silver, cut into all types of shapes. Both layers had numbers and markings on it, as well as the months of the year and abbreviations. The actual disk itself had a fine, clear crystal layer over the golden face, which had all types of circles and numbers on it again.

He could tell that it was expensive from the weight of it, and that it was some kind of measuring instrument, probably from a bygone era.

Paige sat down next to Fleur. "Do you know what it is?"

"No," He answered honestly. "But whatever it is, it's brilliant."

"That's called an Astrolabe. It's an ancient tool to help know the seasons and dates. There are usually two or three other plates that go with it, but that one is magical and will always correct itself to where you're standing. With it, you can measure the stars, and know the month and day. That one is spelled to even show you the hour. We're all Veela," Susanne reminded him. "Birds always have a sense of direction so that they can fly south in the winter and north in the summer, but no matter how far they go, they'll always find their way back home. With that and the compass, you'll be just like a Veela."

Harry studied the Astrolabe as she spoke, but at her last words, he looked up into a pair of eyes that were surprisingly soft. Then Paige laid a hand on his arm and he turned to look at her, noticing the same softness in her eyes. "No matter where you go, if you have these with you, you can always find your way home as well. Right here to this house, and Fleur."

There were no words for him to express what was happening inside his heart, but in a room full of empathetic Veela, he didn't need them. "You're welcome," Danielle said. She kneeled on the bed, and kissed him on the cheek, then whispered in his ear, "What you did for Gabrielle, and then Fleur, means more to us than you could ever hope to know."

Harry was bright red by the time the last Veela hugged and kissed him. He was surprised to see both Fleur and Gabrielle wiping away tears when Paige let go of him, and ushered the rest of the cousins out of the room.

"That was . . ." he leaned his head back against the headboard. "I don't know what to say."

Gabrielle, who was sitting at the foot of the bed, crawled across it and flopped down next to Harry. She pushed her arms around him and squeezed, then laid there for a few moments. "Merry Christmas, and thanks for being my big brother." She got up, kissed him on the cheek, and left the room.

Fleur took her spot next to Harry. "They all see it."

"See what?"

"You, and me. They know you're going back to fight. This was their way of telling you not to lose yourself, and never to forget that you have a home here, and family; not just me, or Gabrielle, or my parents, but an entire family."

She wiped her eyes again. "Merry Christmas, 'Arry."

X ~ X ~ X ~ X

He figured since he was up, he might as well go for his morning run. Two hours later, he was lounging alongside the massive Christmas tree they had put up in the larger sitting room the previous week. The family exchanged gifts, laughed, and had a spectacular time. It was the best Christmas he could have ever hoped for and over the next few days, he also got to know a few of the cousins better, including Danielle, and Susanne.

Sirius and Remus made it back for New Year's Eve, and Harry and they had a great time together with the family. Susanne was extremely interested in Sirius, and Harry found it funny that his godfather made sure that either Harry, Fleur, or Remus was with him at all times. Fleur took to teasing him about it, but she stopped after he explained that Susanne needed someone young and healthy, not an empty soul with very little chance of surviving the war. That didn't go over well with Fleur, or with Susanne when she explained it, and at the stroke of midnight on New Year's Eve, Susanne planted a kiss on Sirius that Harry was sure he'd never forget, and since he was quite a few years older, she didn't hesitate at all to push out some of her Veela magic either.

Marcus arrived two days later, and they discussed the spring workload, practiced fighting—both with and without wands, and pondered life in general.

One afternoon however, Harry decided to use one of his newly learned tricks on Marcus while dueling. It was a simple but forgotten charm to change eye color. But while learning it a few weeks ago, he accidentally figured out how to transfigure the entire eye color, rather than just the iris. In the middle of a duel, he put the charm on top of the holding charm on his hand, and then at the same time, he released it, transfiguring his eyes blood-red, while silently casting a spell that was used for entertaining children in centuries past. The air roiled in black waves as the whole of his eyes turned blood-red. The overall effect looked just short of demonic. Unfortunately, he had no idea Fleur was watching, and it took him thirty minutes to calm her down enough to explain what he had done, and then another hour and a half before she promised not to hex him if he came back to the house.

The next night, Anastasie and Maryse came to dinner. It went well, as did the conversation between Fleur, Harry, and Anastasie, though it was tense more than once, but in the end, she promised that the Zekānōt would not punish Fleur.

Harry wondered however, about some remarks Mrs. Delacour made throughout that meal, and the looks Anastasie and Maryse both gave her, but decided to let it go. Whatever it was, he figured that it didn't affect him.

At least it didn't affect him as much as tomorrow's return to Durmstrang would. Fleur was going to spend a few days with him there, which he was ecstatic about. But after everything that had happened over the last few weeks, he felt like he had finally found a real home where he belonged, and didn't want to leave it.