Now, Then, Forever, and Always

by gamer0890

On the day Princess Fleur Delacour and Duke William Weasley were to be wed, Harry stepped back onto the grounds of the Delacour estate after years away. Princesses and petty criminals could never mingle in the same company, he'd made peace with that long ago. So why had he accepted the invitation?

AN: My health hasn't been the best lately, but I managed to write this during the times when I was feeling alright. Just a small little fluffy AU tale, told across the past and present (each scene is labeled), about Princesses and petty criminals.

Thanks to my beta readers x102reddragon and DJKopper for glancing at this and correcting the most egregious of my errors.

DJKopper was, once again, kind enough to lend me his OCs for this one. If you haven't read "Of Witches and Snitches" please check it out. It's a lovely story.

Stop by the Harry/Fleur discord for more Flowerpot or just to say hello: discord .gg / f4a9Cg8rpB

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~Now~

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He closed his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath.

Music filtered through the yard as he stepped aside to let new arrivals pass, all of them excited for the day's festivities. That's what today was: a celebration. Of life. Of love. Of the joining of two hearts as one.

A quick glance over the grounds had a small grin spreading across his face. It was very much as he remembered it, though he could see what appeared to be a new garden off in the distance. Aside from the new structure the ground remained unchanged, frozen in time, his former life captured and preserved. Immaculate landscaping and a beautiful, wide body of water pushing out towards the horizon. Even with the hustle of the day's events, there was still a calm about the place that made it feel almost cozy.

Odd, considering how he'd come to be raised there.

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~Then~

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He'd been in the market looking for an easy target. The head chef of the royal family was always a big score for a petty criminal, and Harry had been lucky with the broad shouldered man for two weeks. It seemed luck was on his side again today. His godfather, Sirius, had taught him the skills to survive before succumbing to sickness, leaving Harry alone, but relatively prepared for life on the streets.

Or so he'd thought.

The chef had grabbed his hand, catching him mid-pick. The look of horror on his face when he'd been caught was matched only by the compassion in the older man's face.

"I figured the cause of the disappearing money was your doing," the chef said humorously. He let Harry's hand go but gripped the back of his shirt tightly. "I've been leaving here a bit shorter than expected and caught sight of you the last two times. Guess my hunch paid off."

After quietly getting rid of the police that had witnessed the failed attempt, the man led him away from the market and back towards the Delacour estate. As they made it towards the entrance to the kitchens he looked down at Harry. The two locked eyes and Harry sent him a defiant stare.

"Where are your parents, kid?"

"Dead."

The chef nodded solemnly. "Who's been taking care of you?"

"My godfather," Harry said as he cast his eyes downward, sadness entering his face.

"Where is he?"

"Dead," Harry mumbled.

The chef sighed as he sat Harry down on an empty chair. Harry didn't protest, knowing that he was at the mercy of these people. He'd been caught stealing, resisting now would only make things worse for himself. The chef walked away, leaving Harry alone. He had nervously sat, eyes darting around and memorizing the location of everything in the room, attempting to find the best route of escape.

He could hear muffled voices behind the door, it sounded like a heated conversation was taking place until they were replaced by the deep baritone of another. Quickly the door opened again, the chef returning, and Harry's eyes went wide.

The King was with him.

"This is the boy?" asked the King. The chef nodded. Kneeling, the King looked at Harry with an appraising eye.

"I understand you were caught attempting to steal from my head chef." His eyes twinkled with mischief as Harry could only nod. "Tell me, how were you able to steal from him for over a month? He's served in the royal military. He's not a man easily fooled."

Harry shrugged.

"He lets his guard down around children," he said, eyes fixed on the floor. "Street urchins like me don't get much more than a passing glance from anyone. Your chef knows his veggies, and he only selects the best, so he's easily distracted."

The King raised an eyebrow.

"And how do you know all this?"

Harry shrugged again. "My godfather, Sirius, taught me the signs. What to look for. Who to look for, both the easy and high value targets. It doesn't get much higher value than the chef of the royal family."

The King laughed as he stood up and whispered with the chef. He couldn't make out what they were saying, but it sounded like the chef was arguing for something. Looking back down at Harry, the King smiled.

"How would you like to live here?"

Harry looked up, confusion on his face, looking at the King directly for the first time.

"What?"

"The steward has been asking for more help, and to be honest, my own daughter could use someone around her age to interact with regularly," the King said gently, looking down at him with a soft look.

"I'll make you a deal: you will work as a servant of House Delacour and, when you reach the age of twenty one, you will be given the opportunity to pursue your desires elsewhere, with the full backing of the royal family. How does that sound? I offer you the chance to serve your country and then be granted freedom to do anything your heart wishes. What do you say, child?"

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~Now~

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He ran a hand along his black suit jacket, resisting the urge to tug at the too-tight collar of his white button down. To loosen the black tie just a bit. He wore a suit daily, but nothing quite so fancy as what he had on. It wasn't as if he'd had much of a choice. When a posh, stuffy member of the French royal family appears at your doorstep to get you measured for a new suit you don't slam the door in their face. You especially don't reopen the door five minutes later to see them still standing there, unphased by the act.

Not that he'd know what that experience was like.

Sticking his hand into his jacket he produced the invitation, thumbing the corner of the expensive paper as his eyes roamed over the letters once more.

With Great Pleasure,

King Richard and Queen Elise Delacour request the honor of your presence at the marriage of Princess Fleur Delacour and Duke William Weasley

"Invitation," the man at the entrance said, holding out his hand.

With the requested document handed over, and thoughts that it burned in his hands pushed away, he stepped into the marble foyer of the Royal House. It was almost surreal, being back after so long. The small smile on his face faded some as he thought about the night everything changed.

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~Then~

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Harry hefted the large toolbox onto the table in the small shed, a thunk sounding as it landed onto the heavy steel surface. Wiping his brow, he let out a long breath and wiped his hands on his jeans. It had taken him longer to fix the fountain than anticipated, having gone well into the party's start time before the large marble sculpture was shooting water again.

Music and laughter floated gently in the air, coming from the mansion at the other end of the grounds, the festivities in full swing. Pulling a small rag out of his back pocket, he began cleaning the lenses of his glasses absentmindedly as his thoughts wandered.

He pictured himself mingling among the guests of one of the Delacour parties. His lanky frame, messy black hair and emerald green eyes, all wrapped in a suit of the finest design. He saw himself shaking hands and laughing with diplomats and politicians from all over Europe, drinking wine made in the local village, grown right here on the grounds. He pictured himself dancing, first with faceless dignitaries and then with her and her beautiful silver-blonde hair, her blue eyes looking up into his green ones, losing themselves in the music as they swayed.

Harry shook the image away, coming back to the disappointing reality of the small shed. Placing his glasses back onto his face, he straightened all the tools hanging in their places on the walls before stepping out into the cool night air, the full moon shining brightly above. Shutting the door behind him quietly, he began to make his way back to the servant's quarters, his steps making barely any noise, just as he had been taught.

The music and laughter grew louder as he drew closer to the house, the elegant lighting reaching him now as he continued his slow walk of the grounds. When he rounded the corner of the lake, he paused and raised his head. He heard…singing? A patch of trees blocked his view ahead, their tall frames hiding the array of servant quarters housed away from the main house. Against his instincts, he walked towards the trees and entered their depths, taking him away from his usual route that would see him arrive at his room.

The singing continued as he stepped through the bushes dotting the patch of trees, filling the spaces between them. Arriving at the other side, he stopped.

There she was, sitting atop a large boulder next to the lake. Her silver-blonde hair had been freed from its confinement and a pale green dress clung to her frame as if sculpted onto her. Her heels had been discarded in the grass and her feet were in the water. Silver-blonde hair swayed in the gentle breeze as she continued to sing. To Harry, he could not remember a more beautiful sound in his entire life. His mind was captured by her melody like a sailor caught in the song of a siren as he moved closer, desperate to hear every note.

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~Now~

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Instinctually he walked through the entry and towards the back, the low music and chatter guiding him towards his destination. They'd updated the style of the sitting room, he noticed idly, though he wasn't sure if the furniture was the same. He'd never been allowed down here much, his time spent between work in the yards and upstairs in one of two rooms he was allowed to be invited into.

He'd been a hard worker, but he was still a criminal, after all.

His breath hitched as he caught sight of the setup. Rows of white chairs were arranged on the lawn, white rose petals scattered throughout. A constructed isle had been placed down, hand-carved in intricate detail, if he had to guess. The lights were on, each one wrapped in fabric to match the rest of the yard. It was beautiful. They'd done well to transform the area usually reserved for more festive activities into one fit for a royal wedding. His mind drifted back to that night by the lake once more.

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~Then~

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As something cracked beneath his feet, her singing abruptly stopped and her head darted towards him, instantly spotting his frozen frame and catching his eyes. Her gaze softened as he rubbed the back of his neck, his face instantly shooting to the ground.

"My apologies Princess, I didn't mean to interrupt you. I was just on my way back to my room when I heard a sound."

He chanced a look up and found her smiling at him, his heart beating faster at the sight. Her singing was like that of angels and her smile was the sun peeking through the clouds after days of rain.

"Hello, Harry. No need to apologize, you just startled me, that's all. And I've told you a million times, just call me Fleur. Now, come and sit with me," she said, patting the spot next to her.

He swallowed hard and looked down at his clothes, a mess of dirt and grime from a full day of work covering nearly every inch of his pants and shirt. Looking back up, she waved for him to come.

"I've never cared if you're dirty before, now come, sit with me."

He stepped forward and climbed up the large rock, sitting down next to her, a bit of space between the two. Best to keep some distance in case he accidentally got dirt on her clothes. That would not go over well with the steward.

As he looked out over the water, he cast quick glances back at the beautiful Princess next to him, her own face showing a subtle sadness that he had seen before. Fleur Delacour, Princess of the Delacour family, was good at hiding her emotions. Especially from those outside the family. The two had, by the nature of their ages, grown up together, so he knew her better than most.

Being the only child in the servant's quarters meant that he was often sent to spend time with the young Delacour heiress. The King and Queen thought it best that she interact with another child of around her own age, on a more regular basis, and in a less formal setting. He and Fleur had grown to know one another, and as such, he had learned to see through her facades and masks.

The ones she put up in public.

The ones she wore at parties and political gatherings.

The one she was attempting to wear now.

"What's wrong?" he asked, not taking his eyes off the water.

She'd be cross with him if he gave her a sympathetic look, of that he was certain, having made that mistake many times. Fleur was a stubborn woman who was fiercely independent, and she did not appreciate it if she believed someone was feeling sorry for her.

"It's father. He's putting more pressure on me to look for a suitor, saying that it's time for me to begin taking my duties as Princess of the Delacour family seriously."

Every ounce of willpower he had went into hiding the hurt in his eyes, the pain that briefly, ever-so-briefly, flashed into his features. His heart felt like it would beat right out of his chest as he tried to calm his heartbeat and push his unrealistic fantasy back into the depths of his mind. To cover, he laughed, finally looking over at her with forced mirth in his smile.

"And I bet you gave it to him good, didn't you?"

She laughed too, the angelic sound once again causing his stomach to perform several flips.

"I did, before storming out here. I made a bit of a scene, so I'm sure he's still upset. Though knowing mother, she's managed to calm him down by now." She bit her bottom lip, the telltale sign that she was nervous about something. She had done it since she was a child, Harry noticed, and to him, it was the cutest thing he'd ever seen. "Father tells me you'll be leaving soon for England. To help orphans, is that right?"

'Not if you asked me to stay,' he thought.

He nodded, turning to look back over the lake. "He secured me an internship in the civil services department. I'll be working directly with the team that specializes in child care."

He noticed she had scooted closer to him, a whiff of cinnamon drifting up to his nose as she laid her head on his shoulder.

"Fleur, I'm all dirty, and you'll get it in your hair."

"I don't care. Let me rest my head on my best friend's shoulder. Now, tell me about how you will help the children of England."

He took a few breaths as a reminder that he did, in fact, need to breathe to keep living, and started explaining his desire to help young kids when he got his civil license. How he wanted to keep kids smiling and happy, as they had been growing up. How he hoped, through his actions, he could keep kids from the life of petty crime that he no doubt would have led had her family not taken him in.

Of course, they had spoken of all of this before, having shared many nights like this talking to one another about their dreams for the future and what they wanted to do with their lives. He knew, before he had even spoken, that she'd only asked him as a form of comfort, though he doubted she knew how much of a comfort their familiar conversations gave him.

Oh how he would trade anything in the world to continue to be able to be next to her, talking about their lives. That, however, was just a fantasy.

He was a servant, and she was a Princess.

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~Now~

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"Harry?" a voice called from his left.

Looking over he smiled.

"Hello Gabby," he replied.

The younger woman smiled widely and practically ran at him, nearly knocking him over as she threw her arms around him. He laughed and returned the hug.

"It's good to see you too," he said as she pulled away, tears in her eyes. He raised an eyebrow. "I'm not about to get blamed for you ruining your makeup just before the main event."

She swatted him, though there was no force behind the gesture.

"I didn't think you'd actually show up."

Harry reached into his jacket once more and pulled out a slip of paper. He unfolded it and read the message.

Please come. I need to talk to you. -G

He handed it to Gabby.

"Kind of hard to resist when that note and a paid travel ticket are included with my invitation," replied Harry. "Or when one of your staff shows up at my flat telling me he's there to get me fitted for a new suit."

She smiled and tugged at the fold in his jacket.

"You look dashing." Amusement was laced in her words and he couldn't prevent the smile. "I bet you needed a new suit anyway."

"Regardless, that still doesn't explain why I'm here," he continued, trying to refocus the conversation. "What's wrong, Gabby?"

"First, I just want to say that it's great to see you," she tried before dropping her eyes.

Gabby opened her mouth to continue and Harry recognized the look in her eyes. She was good with her public persona and the cameras loved her. The flirty Delacour child who never met anyone who she couldn't be friends with. However, seeing her through the telly and in newspapers was one thing. Growing up with her was another. There was guilt in her face, like she'd snuck back into the kitchen and stolen another few cookies after dinner. He narrowed his eyes.

"Wait," he cut in, "you sent Luc to London eight months ago, didn't you? He didn't just happen to bump into me."

She smiled at him weakly.

"Dammit Gabby, what are you meddling in now?" he hissed.

"Harry?" another voice called.

He spun around and his eyes widened. Elise Delacour, the Queen, was standing in front of him with a disbelieving look on her face. As if she was looking at a ghost. She was surrounded by members of the wedding staff, all fussing over her as she strode towards him. He noticed several people around them hone in on him, sending questioning glances, wondering who the nobody was that had drawn the attention of both a Princess and the Queen.

He smiled sheepishly, suddenly feeling as if he were young again and standing in front of the only mother he'd ever known. A blush formed on his cheeks and he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Hello Elise," he said.

Conversation all around them halted instantly and he swore he heard at least one gasp. Gabby stepped next to him and giggled, earning her a glare. A mutter of "Who does he think he is to address the Queen with such familiarity?" was heard. Before he could look back at the Queen the older woman strode towards him and wrapped him in a bone-crushing hug, whispering about how she'd missed him dearly. Once more he felt like just a child.

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~Then~

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He stifled a sob that tried to escape, not wanting to be found behind the greenhouse. The Steward had given him a job and he needed to finish it, but he'd stumbled to the concrete floor and scuffed his knee. The dirty rag in his hand was pressed over the offending wound. It burned horribly, but he wouldn't let them see him cry.

He lifted the rag and a small bit of pain shot through his leg. He cried out before clamping his hands over his mouth.

"Is someone there?"

Panic overtook him as he stood, somehow ignoring the pain in his knee as he emerged from behind the planter box that housed the yellow tulips. His body stiffened as he came face-to-face with Queen Elise. He straightened his back and gazed at the ground near her feet. Never look directly at them. That's what he'd been told.

"Queen Elise, I apologize," he tried, but it came out strained. His knee was burning fiercely and he wanted to cry, but he refused to do so. What if she threw him out? "I was tidying up the greenhouse. May I be of assistance?"

"Come here, Harry," the Queen said softly.

He approached slowly, not just because he didn't want to bleed on the greenhouse floor, but because he still wasn't used to people being nice to him. The staff were friendly enough, but they still regarded him with some caution almost a year after he'd been taken in. He stopped several paces from her but didn't raise his head, instead finding a particular spot on the ground very interesting. He may interact with her daughter regularly, but the Queen still made him nervous.

"Are you hurt?" she asked, again softly. She bent down and took his chin in her hands, raising his head so their eyes could meet. "Did you hurt your knee?"

His lip quivered and he tried one last time to fight the tears, but her eyes and posture made him feel safe. As if he could allow himself to be weak in front of her. Two silent tears fell as he nodded his head.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

Before he knew it she scooped him up and held him closely in her arms, running her hand along his back as she swept him from the greenhouse.

"Come on, Harry, let's get you patched up," she whispered. "After that, how about some ice cream?"

He nodded and gripped her tighter.

"Thank you, Queen Elise."

"Please, Harry, you can just call me Elise. You're already friends with Fleur. I think we can be friends too," she said.

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~Now~

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They broke apart and she beamed at him.

"Oh, Harry, you are a sight for sore eyes," she said with the same softness he remembered. "After you left, I didn't know if you'd visit again. It's been far too long, young man."

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Gone for six years and now returned, what's going on?" she asked suspiciously. Harry nodded towards Gabby and Elise narrowed her eyes. "Gabby, please tell me you didn't…"

"I didn't do anything!" exclaimed Gabby. "I haven't. Not…yet anyway."

Elise smiled up at Harry with an apologetic expression.

"Did she force you to come here?"

Harry shook his head.

"No, Elise, I assure you, she didn't." The woman stared at him intently and the expression was clear. She didn't believe him. After a long moment the familiar guilt ran down his spine and he sighed. "She sent a plane ticket and bought me a suit to get me here."

"Traitor," huffed Gabby, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at him.

Elise rounded on her youngest daughter.

"Gabrielle Delacour, we discussed this!" she hissed.

For a brief moment, just a breath, a small bit of guilt washed through Gabby's face. He was sure only Elise and he noticed it before she schooled her features and squared her shoulders in determination.

"It's about Fleur-"

Before she could finish Elise grabbed both of them by the arm and practically dragged them through the nearest door, dismissing everyone else as she shut it behind them. As he looked around, Harry realized they were in the sun room that had doubled as the room he had watched Fleur paint in when they were kids.

Fleur…

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~Then~

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"What are you singing?" Harry asked, approaching Fleur in the large sunroom where she sat in front of the easel painting.

"A song my mother used to sing," Fleur said absentmindedly as she continued to paint.

"It's very pretty," he replied.

He sat beside her, looking up at the flower she was painting on the canvas, the purple leaves giving the scene a vibrant pop that it was otherwise missing. Harry wished desperately she would continue singing, having been enthralled by her voice before his short legs had carried him to her side. She sounded like those goddesses from the movies Fleur had made him sit through.

"My mama makes me take singing lessons. I like to sing, it calms me. Hand me that brush," she said, pointing to the small shelf behind the canvas.

Reaching over, he grabbed it and handed it to her, earning a smile for his efforts. As she switched to the fresh brush, she began to hum again before her voice rang out, its melodic tone washing over Harry like a warm blanket.

He sat there, listening to her sing, silently wishing that she would never finish her painting, if only so that he could continue hearing her sing.

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~Now~

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Elise's raised voice brought him out of his memories and he quickly realized they were having a very heated discussion. Harry cleared his throat.

"Can someone tell me what's going on? Why am I here? What's it got to do with Fleur?"

Both women went silent and a look passed between them. Harry raised an eyebrow. The last time he saw that sort of eye contact between mother and daughter they'd been caught planning a going away party for him. Well, not so much a party as a casual dinner on the lawn, just as they knew he enjoyed.

Elise straightened up and cleared her throat.

"I apologize Harry," she said, and an uncomfortable feeling crept into his stomach. The Queen, for all she'd done for him, had never looked so…guilty before. As if she'd wronged him. "Gabby got a bit overzealous."

Gabby groaned and threw her hands up.

"You and Luc wouldn't help!" she exclaimed. "He agreed to go to London but refused to be part of anything else after."

"Yes, well, he's a smart man," Elise mused. "My favorite son-in-law."

"Only," Gabby muttered.

Elise looked at Harry and smiled.

"Competition breeds excellence."

Harry pushed his glasses up and pinched the bridge of his nose. A headache was forming at the front of his head. It was French. With blonde hair.

"Pardon my language," he said, "but will someone explain to me what the fuck is going on, please?"

"Fleur's miserable and making a huge mistake!" Gabby blurted out.

He stared at her for longer than would be deemed appropriate, he knew that, but the words had stunned him. Fleur Delacour didn't make mistakes, not willingly, he'd learned that years ago. Especially when it came to her own life. The amount of fights she'd had with Elise was proof of that.

"Your sister doesn't make mistakes, Gabby," he said calmly.

"Everyone makes mistakes and she's making the biggest one of her life," the younger Delacour sister shot back. "You're the only one who can make her admit it."

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He'd tried to tame it some before arriving, with a modicum of success, but something told him that he wouldn't be staying.

"Okay, fine. She's making a mistake." Experience told him it was best to let Gabby realize she was wrong instead of trying to tell her. Telling her would just cause her to dig in further. "What's the mistake?"

"Marrying that oaf, William," she spat.

"I'm sure Fleur loves him very much," he said as he slipped his hands into his pockets. "Your sister doesn't do anything she isn't sure about. Well, not without a lot of persuading."

"I'm telling you, Harry, she doesn't want to marry him but she's going through with it because she thinks it's what is best for the family. We have to make her see reason."

He sighed. The whole situation was classic Gabrielle Delacour, though it was far less troublesome when they were younger. Gabby had never been shy about her opinions or ideas, always happy to inform anyone who would listen exactly how things should be. It was cute when she was just a child, when he could placate her with a smile and a tussle of her hair, but it had always irritated Fleur to no end. Especially when Gabby talked about her sister's love life.

"Your sister doesn't need you meddling in her marriage, Gabby. The fact that you believe you have a right to interfere is insulting to her."

Anger flared in the younger woman's face and she stepped up to him. Her long index finger poked him in the chest sharply.

"You don't get to say that, not now." Her eyes narrowed and he raised an eyebrow.

"And why's that?" he asked.

"Because you left!" shouted Gabby as angry tears welled in her eyes. "You left and we had to stand by and watch her crumble. Watch her pine for someone who asked to be allowed to go to London. Who didn't care."

His own anger roared to life, the hurt of her words fueling a fire within him.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," he ground out before turning to leave.

"Yeah, walk away," Gabby said mockingly, "you're good at it."

He didn't know why but her words brought back the memory of that night so long ago, when he'd found Fleur singing, hiding from her father.

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~Then~

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Glancing down, he noticed she had fallen asleep, her breath coming more evenly as she slept. So he sat there unmoving, ignoring the pain in his back and shoulder, to let her sleep and be at peace, for however long he could help her do that. Glancing down, his face found a sad smile as he realized her hand had curled around his.

Some time later footsteps approached behind them. Before he could attempt to see who would be upon them, a voice rang out.

"Fleur, your mother is looking for you. It's time to go inside."

Her head raised off his shoulder and they both looked back. The King, Richard Delacour, in his elegant attire, stood towering above them. Rubbing her eyes, Fleur looked down at her other hand, noticing he had been drawing circles on it with his thumb, and pulled it away, a slight blush creeping into her face. Standing, she grabbed her shoes and ran her hand over her dress, turning back towards him.

"Thank you, Harry."

He gave a small bow.

"I'm glad I could be of service, Princess."

She cast one last long look at him before walking past her father, shoes still in hand, her dress pinched and pulled slightly up so as to not stain on the lawn. Looking at her retreating form for a long moment, Harry turned his attention back to the King, his eyes instantly shooting back to the ground and his head bowing.

"Sir is there anything I can assist you with?" he asked, not looking back up. The King gave a heavy sigh.

'Well, that's new,' thought Harry.

"She's in love with you. You know that, right?" asked the King.

Harry, unable to control himself, lifted his head to look at the King, whose eyes were fixed on him with an almost appraising look.

He hadn't been in the presence of the King much in his life, having interacted far more with the Queen. Elise Delacour had become like a mother to him, but Richard had always been good to him. Still, there were things that the house steward had drilled into him from an early age, and proper behavior in the presence of the King was at the top of the list. All that training was lost on him now.

"What?"

Richard gave a hearty, full laugh, one Harry had never heard the man give before. Sure, he'd heard the King laugh, but this one felt different. More real, somehow, as if all the other laughs he'd heard were forced or half-measures.

"My little flower is in love with you Harry, and she has been for some time, if my eyes are not failing me," the King said.

"You two spent so much time together growing up that I should have seen it before, but I think, on some subconscious level, I didn't want to see it. I was so busy trying to see everything that I missed the important little details that were right in front of me. I see now why she got so upset with me tonight. Elise told me that I might find her out here, and I'm not surprised you were here as well."

Harry shifted uncomfortably, wishing with everything he had that he was anywhere else than under the unyielding gaze of the King. The broad man took several steps and came up to the edge of the lake, looking out over the calm waters. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, feeling the night air as he let the air escape his lungs slowly.

"Do you love her?"

Before the panic could set in and he could come up with a good excuse to flee, Harry's mouth seemed to begin moving without the aid of his brain.

"Yes," he whispered.

Richard smiled.

"How long have you known?"

"A few years ago, I must have been 17 or 18, Fleur came out into the gardens crying," started Harry.

The door to the greenhouse was thrown open and Harry sighed. He'd just cleaned the damn floor.

"Oi, watch what the fu…Fleur?" he stopped, catching sight of her.

She was red faced, cheeks stained with tears, and her hair was a complete mess. It had come loose from her normal bun, jutting out at odd angles. She clenched and unclenched her fists as she paced. His concern rose sharply as he watched her. He'd never seen her so upset, as if she didn't know what to do with herself.

"It's my father!" she nearly yelled, though he knew it wasn't directed at him. Never at him. "He's just so…ugh!"

Harry's chest tightened at the sight and his mind filled with a million different ideas. Her tears, her loss of composure, the vulnerability in her eyes he knew she was unaware she was showing? He never wanted to see it again, not because he was disappointed or appalled by it, but because he could tell she was hurting.

He would do anything to take the pain away. To ensure she would smile. To be the Fleur he knew so well.

With no clear idea of what to say he did the only thing he could. He stepped in front of her pacing, cutting her off. She looked at him and he smiled.

He raised his arm….and pulled the trigger of the nozzle.

The water shot out and hit her directly in the face.

Silence.

The shocked look on her face was quickly replaced by a deathly glare, but his smile didn't falter. Underneath the outward appearance of murder, just below the surface, he saw the hurt recede from her eyes.

"You're dead Potter!"

The King chuckled in earnest amusement.

"The look she gave me could have killed, and I briefly wondered if she would, before she charged at me and tackled me to the ground, wresting the hose from my hand and shooting me right back." Harry smiled as he let the memory wash over him. "We must have spent two hours chasing each other around the gardens, shooting water and throwing dirt at one another. Like we were two children just killing time, not a care in the world."

Harry was certain the smell of upturned dirt and fresh flowers filled his nose as the memory faded.

"Once we settled down, her tears were gone, and her magnificent smile was back. The steward gave me a proper scolding and I spent the rest of the day and well into the night cleaning the gardens. It was worth it though, every bit of it, because Fleur had smiled and laughed, and she was no longer sad."

He paused to collect his thoughts.

"That was when I realized I loved her."

Harry sighed, turning his head to look back at the King. "The next week, I requested an internship in London upon my release from service."

Richard looked down to him, a fatherly look in his eyes. Concern mixed with sadness. Harry met his gaze, perhaps for the first time ever, with determination and resolve.

"I fully understand my position. I'm a petty criminal turned servant; a kid saved by a kind royal family. Your family has been great to me, sir, and I would give my life for any of you, but I know I can't stay in France and watch Fleur marry someone else. Watch her find a life and make her own family with someone who wasn't me."

He nearly broke eye contact, but resolved to finish his thoughts with his head held high.

"Sure, I could pretend, and I would pretend in a heartbeat for her, but my heart would break every time I saw her, knowing that we could never be together."

The King placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, his eyes misty and a gentle smile playing across his lips.

"You are a good man, Harry Potter, and I want you to always remember that. I took you in, not out of pity or charity, but because I saw your potential that would have been wasted otherwise. Had we had a son, I would have wanted him to turn out just like you. I'm sorry that circumstances have caused you pain, my boy, I truly am, just as I am sorry that they have caused my daughter pain as well. I find myself in the position of asking you to do something that, as a King I must, but as a man who cares about you, breaks me."

The King took his hand off of Harry's shoulder and turned back towards the lake.

"Go to London and forget about Kings, Queens, and Princesses. Let this part of your life become a memory, a foundational part of the man you are now, but a memory, nonetheless. Make a new life for yourself, one without the backdrop of servitude or class separation, but instead, one where you can stand on your own merit and be judged. When you leave the grounds, leave with your head held high and the knowledge that Harry Potter is a good man that will do great things for the world.

.

~Now~

.

As his hand grabbed the handle of the door he paused. He'd thought time and distance had finally dulled the feelings. He couldn't have stayed, not after his conversation with Richard. Not after he understood that their world's were just too different. He'd fooled himself for years, thinking that their childhood friendship would overcome their stations, but that had been the thoughts of a naive boy who saw the world in black and white.

"I didn't leave because I stopped caring." The words were soft as he spoke, though he didn't turn around. He wouldn't let them see the fresh hurt clawing its way back into his face. Not yet at least. He should have never accepted the invitation. "I left because I realized something. Much later, with time, I understood it had been there all along."

"Which was?" Gabby asked, her voice small and tentative.

He turned to look at her, sending a sad smile across the room.

"That no matter what I felt, I would never be good enough for her."

The silence was deafening but the looks his two companions gave him made him want to flee. The sadness on their features wasn't proper for the day. Especially not this day, with a royal wedding a heartbeat away. Elise looked on the verge of tears and Harry hated himself for causing it all. He never did learn to keep his mouth shut, but in some ways he was glad it was out there because he no longer needed to carry it.

He'd moved on, he really had. Time heals all wounds, as the saying goes, and the wound that was Fleur's absence was sizable. Yet he had moved on. He'd grown up, become a functioning adult, and dated. Sure, he was single at the moment, but he hadn't thought of Fleur in such a long time that he'd convinced himself things were better.

Why'd he accept that damn invitation?

Gabby closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around his chest, burying her face into him. He wanted to protest, wanted to push her away and leave, but the comforting gesture simply made him smile as his arms moved on their own. Elise touched the corners of her eyes to break up the tears.

"Be honest with me Harry," came Gabby's voice. She leaned back, not breaking the hug but fixing him with a determined set of pale blue eyes. "If you say no then you can leave. I'll apologize and let you walk back out the way you came in. I'll never interrupt your life again and you can forget about us once more."

Her eyes closed and she took a deep breath, letting it out slowly before looking up at him again.

"Do you still love my sister?"

No.

"Yes."

The words left his mouth despite his thoughts, a traitor to his own mind. He wanted to scream that no, he didn't love Fleur Delacour anymore and he hadn't for years. That he didn't run away years ago, just as Gabby accused him, because the heartbreak would have left him hollow. He was happy in London and, dammit, he didn't need the ideas of a petulant little sister interrupting his perfectly normal life.

But he didn't and he couldn't because it wasn't true.

Of course he loved Fleur Delacour. The box he'd shoved those feelings into long ago burst open and ripped his heart to shreds, nearly causing him to stagger backwards. He'd never stopped loving her, only gotten better at lying to himself about it. For the first time since receiving the invitation, reality hit him.

Fleur was marrying someone else and he hated it.

"Fantastic," replied Gabby with a smug smile before she stepped back, a noticeable pep in her step. "We don't have long."

"Gabby, stop," Harry said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm not here to cause trouble. Fine, you got me to admit that I still have feelings for her, but what does that accomplish? Nothing, that's what. It changes nothing. Fleur is still going to marry William and I will return to London."

"You're wrong." Her voice was confident and filled with determination. He raised an eyebrow as he could practically see the wheels turning in her head. "Getting you here was step one. Getting you to admit why you accepted the invite was step two."

"And step three?"

"Step three is to crash the wedding," Gabby said with a cocky smile.

Harry looked over at Elise and gestured towards Gabby.

"What is she on about? I'm not going to crash a wedding. I'm sure you worked hard on this whole thing."

In all his years under the watchful eye of Elise Delacour, Harry had seen a multitude of reactions from her. Anger. Sympathy. Concern. Disappointment. He'd seen them all from her, especially anytime Fleur had convinced him to do something against the rules. All had been given with the grace of a Queen befitting her title.

Never had he seen her shrug in indifference.

Not until today.

"There are worse ideas," she offered.

Harry's eyes widened.

"Are you two serious right now?" He stepped back and looked between the two women. "You're not having a laugh at my expense? This isn't an elaborate prank or anything?"

"I don't make it a habit of joking about crashing my own daughter's wedding," replied Elise with a twinkle in her eyes. "So yes, I'd say we're pretty serious."

"Why though?"

A sigh escaped Elise's lips. "Because despite her terrible planning of this whole thing, Gabby is correct about one thing. Fleur doesn't want to marry William. I know my daughter too well for her to fool me, though I will admit it took longer than it should for me to notice. She may have everyone else fooled, including Richard, but I see it in her eyes every day."

"So you think, what, I'm just going to walk in and make everything right?" Harry wondered.

Again Elise shrugged.

"I think that you two should talk and she can decide what she wants to do with her life. The pressure she's been under to marry has been immense. Perhaps far more than should have been placed upon her shoulders. She may choose to proceed with the day, but I would be doing my family a disservice if I didn't at least give her another opportunity to change her mind."

The Queen let out a small laugh and her eyes filled with mischief.

"Besides, things have been far too dull around here since you left. You, Fleur, Gabby, and later Luc brought so much life to these walls. I think it's about time we create a bit of our own fun. What do you say?"

Harry sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was crazy. Absolutely and utterly bonkers. The fact that both of the women before him were in on the idea floored him. Again he questioned why he'd accepted the invitation and fancy suit. He could have just as easily handed the envelope containing the little square card and plane tickets back to the servant who'd shown up, told the man he wasn't interested, and gone about his life.

Yet he hadn't, because deep down he knew the truth.

He'd made a mistake six years ago and regretted it ever since.

Harry was a petty criminal turned servant and she was a princess. He'd believed their worlds were too different for them to ever be together. Instead of telling his best friend how he felt he'd run across the pond. Hidden in his work and lied to himself for years. That had worked for a time, but it was no longer an acceptable option. He might make a fool of himself and get hurt, but it was no worse than watching her marry someone else without trying.

Another sigh escaped his lips before he smiled and shook his head. He looked over to Gabby and Elise.

"I guess we're crashing a wedding."

Gabby clapped and rushed to the door, opening it just wide enough to pass a message to one of the Queen's attendants waiting outside. He couldn't hear the words, but they were spoken quickly before she returned to the room, standing in front of him with renewed purpose. The fire that he'd seen in his early years, a fire that often led to trouble, was alight and burning hot. Harry rubbed the back of his neck and opened his mouth to ask about their next steps when the door opened again.

Harry looked over and smiled as Luc Bennet slipped into the room, his crisp black suit fitting him like the royal he was. His eyes met Harry's before laughter escaped from the Frenchman's lips.

"Oh wow, she managed to convince you, didn't she?" Luc asked before finally noticing Elise. His eyes widened. "Oh my. It seems I've lost some money. Are you sure about this ma'am?"

Elise raised an eyebrow and glared at Gabby.

"Gabrielle Delacour-Bennet. Please tell me you did not wager on if I'd agree to all this."

For her part, the younger Delacour sister has the decency to look suitably admonished before turning to Luc. Harry saw her turn on the charm and nearly rolled his eyes at the display. Luc had never learned to tell the blonde "no," and when she gave him those bright blue eyes the man was a goner.

"Luc, babe," she said, sliding up beside him and grabbing his arm, pressing it into her chest. "Would you be willing to do me a small favor? Just a small one, nothing more."

Luc looked over at Harry before shrugging his shoulders and looking back down at Gabby. "Might as well. What do you need?"

"A distraction," replied Gabby.

"Want me to knock the cake over?"

"Absolutely not," Elise cut in, arms crossed over her chest. "If the wedding is called off we're keeping that cake. It's delicious."

"I could pretend to be drunk?" Luc tried.

Gabby shook her head.

"Bigger."

"Perhaps I could tell your uncle he's the human equivalent of a participation trophy?"

Gabby laughed but shook her head. "Save that one, but no. We need something that will make the papers. Turn every eyeball on the property towards it so Harry can sneak into Fleur's room."

Her husband thought for several moments before snapping his fingers, as if a lightbulb had gone off in his head. With a charming smile he took a small step back and extended his hand towards the blonde. It was overly dramatic, just like Gabby, which explained why the two worked so well together.

"Gabrielle, would you do me the honor of getting into a fake fight with me in front of hundreds of people? A fight so loud that they'll hear it on the other side of the country?"

Her eyes lit up and she took his hand.

"I would absolutely love to!" she exclaimed. Luc kissed her knuckles and she giggled before stepping away from him. "What's the plan?"

"I'm going to storm out of here with a foul look and head towards the gardens," Luc explained. "In a minute, follow after me with a murderous look in your eyes. When you see me, call my name loudly and start the fight. We'll improvise."

"I love it when you take charge." She bit her lip and looked the man up and down. "It gets me going."

Luc's expression went dark before he turned on his heels, marching towards the door.

"I'll see you out there, wench."

Harry jumped when the door slammed shut behind the taller man. He had to admit that Luc was a good actor when needed. Then again, Luc had always been reliable and a good source of advice for Harry. They hadn't known each other long before Harry left, but in the short time they'd spent in each other's company they'd formed a kinship. Perhaps it was their status as outsiders that had helped them connect or perhaps it was simply their close ages. Whatever it was made Harry think back to the last conversation they'd had before he'd left the county.

.

~Then~

.

"You know," Luc said, his head appearing in Harry's doorway. "For someone who's lived here nearly his entire life you sure don't have much."

Harry shrugged, not bothering to look up at the figure leaning against the doorframe, instead, continuing to pack. Luc Bennet was a minor French Lord, and thus, he should be treated with the respect that his station demanded. That's what the steward had drilled into Harry's head from the moment he'd arrived at the Royal estate. Yet for all his training, with a mere two days until his life changed forever, he couldn't find it in him to give a damn about manners.

"Never really needed much." Finally he looked up and raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you supposed to be at some stuffy lunch with the rest of the Lords and Ladies? Something about comparing sticks up your arses?"

Luc let out a barking laugh and stepped into the room, dropping down into the chair at the desk.

"Harry Potter plus freedom equals cheek," he said, humour laced in his tone. "I like this version of you better."

"Ha ha," Harry mocked as he began to pack away the handful of books he owned. "Are you here for something, My Lord? Or are you darkening my doorstep because you're, once again, ducking your responsibilities?"

Once again Luc laughed, plucking the book from Harry's hand and idly thumbing through it.

"You know me so well, Monsieur Potter. I am, in fact, supposed to be at a stuffy lunch with several other stuffy Lords and Ladies, but I decided that was boring. I sought out Gabby, who informed me of your imminent departure, so I made my way here to ask why the fuck didn't you tell me you were leaving?"

Harry sighed and dropped his hands, looking down at the book in his hands. He sent Luc an apologetic glance.

"I'm sorry Luc, I just didn't want to make a big deal about it," he said. "Fleur, Gabby, and Elise already did this whole dinner on the lawn thing and even that was uncomfortable. I'm not used to people fussing over me. It's odd."

"Is it so odd that people will miss you, Harry?" Luc asked with a raised eyebrow.

Harry shrugged. "No, not really, but I've been taught for so long to be invisible that it's odd when others focus on me. I'll need to get used to it, but I didn't want you doing something stupid, like skipping an important lunch, to say goodbye to me."

Quiet reigned as Harry resumed packing away his small collection of books. They'd be shipped to his new home in London, but there was a bittersweet feeling to the gesture. The royal estate had been his home for so long that it felt like leaving his family behind. Everyone left home eventually, of that he knew, but there was still a melancholy that he couldn't simply brush aside. Unlike a real family, he doubted he'd return. He simply couldn't. Not with…

"What are you going to say to her?" Luc asked, interrupting Harry's thoughts.

Harry shook his head and looked over at the taller man.

"Say to who?"

Luc rolled his eyes and stood.

"What are you going to say to Fleur?" he clarified.

"Probably goodbye, just like everyone else," Harry replied evasively, not looking up to meet Luc's eyes.

It was Luc's turn to sigh.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry." His voice was quiet and almost sad. "If I were in your position, however, I'd simply go for it. Tell her the truth and see what happens."

"What are you on about?" Harry asked, pulling another book off the shelf.

Luc sighed again and walked to the door, stopping at the entrance to the room before turning around.

"I don't know what it's like, loving someone I'm not supposed to love." Harry stopped at the other man's words, but once again refused to meet his eyes. "I'm sure you have your reasons, and I won't ask you to explain them. I've got too much respect for you to demand that from you. However, I will say this: I truly hope you don't regret missing the chance to tell her how you feel, Harry. To be honest with her, and yourself, about what's clearly between the two of you. There are very few second chances in this life. I'd hate to see you miss your one shot."

Luc wrapped his knuckles twice against the door frame before turning around and sending a wave behind him.

"So long, Harry. Don't forget to write. We all know this place will be utterly boring without you."

.

~Now~

.

A smile formed on Harry's lips as he remembered Luc's words.

"What's that smile for?" Elise asked with a raised eyebrow as she made her way towards the door.

"Just remembering something Luc told me a long ago," he answered, rubbing the back of his neck. "He told me there aren't many second chances in life. For so long I accepted what happened, knowing there was no chance to change it, but perhaps things were meant to turn out this way."

He looked over to Elise, a smile still playing on his face.

"Perhaps this is my second chance?"

She smiled and smoothed out the front of his suit and straightened his tie.

"I think," she said as she fixed his collar, "you made a decision that you thought was best and may yet see where the other choice could have led."

Raised voices broke through, coming from the garden. Elise let out a small laugh and gestured for him to follow.

"It would appear the show has started. Come, I'll show you to the room."

They stepped out into the hallway and, just as Gabby had predicted, everyone had turned their attention towards the gardens. He couldn't see it himself, but the performance they were putting on sounded absolutely award-winning. Idly, he wondered how he'd thank the two for helping not just Fleur, but him as well. Do you send Royal's fruit baskets?

Elise gently led him down a series of short hallways before stopping in front of a rather unassuming door. He cursed himself for not paying attention because he didn't recognize anything from his surroundings. The house had always been large, and he hadn't been allowed in much of it, but it still would have been good to know the way out. Listening once more, he couldn't hear the fighting anymore, so they must be in the opposite wing. Probably somewhere near the front of the estate.

Elise looked up at him and smiled, placing a gentle hand on his cheek. She ran her thumb across his cheek, a motherly gesture she'd done when he was young.

"Good luck, Harry," she said quietly. "Whatever happens, I want you to know that you're always welcome here."

With that, he was left with just the door and her fading footsteps. He took a deep, steadying breath before letting it out slowly. He knocked and, without waiting for a reply, quietly slipped into the room. The door made no sound, just as his movements remained silent. Not all of his training had been lost to time and for that he was grateful.

The room was sparse, but elegant. There was a long vanity running across the far wall, a wide window in the corner. The drapes were closed, but he vaguely made out the sight of the front of the yard. He stepped further into the room, noting the hallway to his right, before turning around and taking it all in. He wasn't sure what the room's normal function was, but the sight of dresses and makeup had clearly marked it as a room for the bride and her party to get ready that day.

"Mother, is that you?" a voice called from the hallway. Harry turned just in time to see Fleur rounding the corner. "I heard a commotion outside. Is everything al…."

She stopped mid sentence as their eyes locked. His heart pounded in his throat as his eyes managed to break her gaze. Her hair had been done into an intricate bun, but her dress was a simple, elegant affair. The slim, cream-coloured dress ran from her ankles up to her neck, leaving her shoulders bare. It was fashionable but functional. It was befitting her station yet would have fit in at the smallest wedding.

It was, in a word, Fleur.

Neither spoke as she moved towards him, tentatively at first, but her shoulders squared as she neared him. He'd caught her gaze again, the shock still present within the waves of her eyes. She stood in front of him for the first time in six years and he could say nothing because what could he say? She looked like a Princess and he was just a man.

The slap broke him from his musing, the sting on his cheek shocking him.

Wind was pushed from his lungs as she followed it up with a crushing hug.

Instinctively he wrapped his arms around her. The scent of cinnamon and buttercream hit him for the first time in years. His knees nearly buckled as he realized, after so long, there was more than simply being in love with her. More to his romantic feelings for the woman in his arms. Something beyond just those feelings had him weak in the knees.

Above all else, he'd missed his best friend.

He missed her laugh and the way her cheeks reddened when she was embarrassed. He missed that he could always be himself when around her, never needing a mask or facade to cover the rough edges of who he was. He missed how she snorted when she found something particularly funny and the way she pronounced certain words in English. He didn't just want to clear the air about his feelings, but simply be around her at least one more time because life was easier when you had a friend to share with.

He painfully regretted that day he left.

.

~Then~

.

Harry helped them load the few boxes he had into the waiting truck. By the time he arrived in London they should be waiting for him at his place. That was the theory, anyway. Harry had his doubts about the speed at which they claimed to be able to move his belongings, so he had made sure anything he couldn't be without was packed safely in his suitcase.

Turning back towards the house he was immediately engulfed in a hug by the smallest Delacour. She was sniffling, trying to pretend she wasn't crying, but they all knew better. He smiled and looked down at her before ruffling her hair.

"I'll miss you, little Gabby," he said, peeling the girl off of him. "Perhaps most of all."

She swatted his hand from her head and wiped her face as she stepped away.

"You better not forget me, Harry Potter! Or I'll be incredibly upset with you!"

Harry laughed and shook his head. "I don't think I could ever forget you, squirt."

Harry turned to the Queen, her eyes shining with tears, and gave a deep bow.

"Madame Delacour," he said seriously, not lifting from the bow. "Your family took me in and raised me as one of your own. That is a debt I'll forever be grateful for and will never be able to repay."

"Get up young man," Elsie commanded, stepping towards him. He straightened up and she smoothed out the front of his shirt before cupping his cheek with her hand. "You are no longer a servant of the Delacour family, and you bow to none."

She pulled him into a hug.

"I'll miss you, Harry," she whispered. "You'll always be welcomed here. You're family, no matter what happens."

As she stepped away, he caught sight of a small tear leaking from her eye as she turned, grabbing Gabby's hand to lead her away. Harry swallowed hard as he turned to Fleur. She looked sullen, as if her happiness had been sucked out.

"Fleur, I-"

"Harry, I-"

They both spoke at the same time, stopping when they heard the other. Nervous laughter broke between them, but he still felt tense. He thought back to Luc's words about speaking the truth, and he wondered if the Frenchman was on to something. Was there any harm in telling her? Letting her in on his secret? Laying bare his heart for her to do with as she pleased?

"Fleur, I love you. I have for a long time."

"I'll miss you Fleur," he said instead. For just a flash he saw the hurt in her eyes at his words, but she covered it up quickly. "London isn't that far away though."

She gave him a brilliant, wide smile, the ones she reserved only for him, and wrapped him in a tentative hug. It was quick, but her touch both burned and rejuvenated him. Had it always been that way? Perhaps he hadn't noticed it until now. Uncertainty passed through her features and she wrung her hands together.

"Harry, I…" she tried, trailing off. They stood there in awkward silence for several moments until the driver honked the horn. Her posture shifted and her neck straightened. "I hope you do well in London."

"Thanks," he said, picking up his suitcase and opening the back door to the car. "I'll write when I'm able."

As the car drove off and he watched her fading form, he sunk lower into the seat. The driver turned onto the street and out of the estate properly. Harry played the conversation back in his mind as they got further away. His head filled with missed opportunities and regrets, but he settled on one thought as they continued to drive. His feelings of self-confidence were replaced with one thought.

Coward.

.

~Now~

.

"Don't you ever leave for so long without so much as a letter again," Fleur said into his chest. Her hand balled into a fist and hit his chest lightly. "I'm very upset with you."

"I can feel that," Harry replied dryly, rotating his jaw to work out the sting. "You could become a boxer with that right hook."

She giggled before stepping away from him. She raised an eyebrow and her eyes bore into him.

"I'm glad to see you, Harry, but why are you here?" she asked. "It must be important if you came all this way."

The drum beat of his heart quickened and his palms moistened. The words died on his lips as he tried to form and reform them over and over again. Seeing her again, being back there after so long, it felt suffocating. Harry loosened his tie as the overwhelming urge to flee hit him. He didn't belong among royalty. He was a former child criminal and she was a Princess. What right did he have to interrupt her life?

"Perhaps this is my second chance?"

His own words replayed in his mind and he gripped them tightly, anchoring himself in the storm raging within him. It was now or never. He could go back to London and never return, but he knew at that moment he would hate himself for the rest of his life if he did so. That he would become the coward he thought he was six years ago in the back seat of the car. Harry ran a hand through his hair.

"Are you happy?" he asked.

"What?" questioned Fleur. "Am I happy? What kind of question is that?"

"A simple one," Harry replied. "Are you happy?"

"Why are you asking me that? I haven't heard from you in six years and the first thing you do when we meet again is ask me if I'm happy?" Anger crossed her face and she folded her arms across her chest. "Actually, why should I even answer your question? Why don't you tell me where you've been for all these years? Why did you never write like you promised? Or visited like you told mother you would?"

"Because…"He sighed and dropped his head, the words dying on his lips. He walked over to the window and pushed aside the drapes, looking out to the expansive lawn. "Because I'm an idiot."

"Agreed," Fleur replied, following him to the window. "Why are you here, Harry? Be honest."

He shrugged. "Honestly? I don't even know why I came myself. At least not at first. Gabby invited me-"

"My sister put you up to this?" hissed Fleur.

Harry raised his hands in a calming gesture. "Easy tiger, don't go storming out there. She's creating a distraction."

"A distraction for what?"

He turned to look at her fully and sent a tentative smile to her.

"So that your mum could sneak me in here and give me a chance to tell you the truth."

She took another half step towards him, never breaking eye contact.

"And that truth being?" she asked.

Unconsciously he reached for her hand, taking it into his and rubbing the pad of his thumb across her knuckles.

"That what I meant to say to you the day I left was that I'm in love with you and, despite the fact that I knew we could never be together, I wouldn't ever stop loving you." The damn holding his emotions at bay broke, flooding him with relief as the words were finally free. "That I left France because I knew a commoner couldn't be with the Princess. I couldn't stay and watch you marry another Lord or Lady without it hurting every day."

Tears fell from her eyes as she stepped closer, so close he could lean down and kiss her, but he held back. He nearly laughed at how good it felt for the truth to be out in the open. Both for Fleur and himself. The weight of it all lifted from his heart and it was as if the sky had cleared and the sun had come out after years of overcast skies. He'd gotten so good at pretending, at hiding from himself, that he felt like a new man.

Or perhaps the man he was meant to be all along.

Harry dropped her hand and raised it to her cheek, wiping away the tears. Her own hand rose and cupped his as she leaned into his touch.

"I wish you'd told me," she whispered, eyes closed. "Regardless of what you believed, I wish with everything that you'd told me. Do you know why?"

He shook his head. She opened her eyes and smiled at him.

"Because I love you, Harry. Since we were children. For as long as I can remember I've been in love with you. Even now, with years between us, I still love you. I fought for so long against my so-called 'duty to the family' in the hopes that you would love me back. That I could stand in front of my father with my head held high, holding your hand by my side, and tell him I wouldn't be marrying some rich noble because I'd already found love. I dared not say anything to you first, I understood our stations just as you did, but it didn't stop me from dreaming of a life with you."

"Fleur, I-"

"Kiss me, Harry," she whispered.

It was everything he'd dreamed it would be, only more. Her cherry lipstick tasted sweet, but the way she kissed him gave the gesture the spice it deserved. She was everything in that moment. Nothing mattered, before or after, because in that instance he understood things clearly. He wasn't plagued by indecision. Didn't care that he was kissing the next Queen of France. Life, it seemed, was far simpler when kissing the woman he'd loved since that afternoon in the gardens, when nothing but laughter and a garden hose separated them.

Two people, brought together by unusual circumstances, loved each other. Nothing else mattered.

They broke apart and he rested his forehead on hers as he caught his breath. They remained there for several moments, neither speaking, yet both knowing exactly what the other would have said.

"Your timing is terrible," she whispered with a laugh.

"Would it help if I spoke my hope into existence?" Harry whispered. Fleur leaned back and looked up at him with an affectionate gaze. He cleared his throat. "Don't marry William."

A sad smile crossed her face and he nearly deflated, but something within him held firm. He'd come this far, experienced what it was like to kiss the most extraordinary person he'd ever known, and he wouldn't run without making his case. Yet, for all his confidence, the doubt still occupied a small corner of his mind. It was waiting for the inevitable, but he pushed it aside.

"Harry, it's complicated."

"My question still remains," he reminded her. "Are you happy?"

The gnawing doubt pushed a traitorous thought into his mind.

Yes.

"No."

He shouldn't have been happy at her unhappiness, but the smile that spread across his face, one that went all the way to his eyes, spread to her.

"Shouldn't you get the right to choose what you want to do with your life? To be happy?" he asked. "You once told me your life was your own. That you would decide your fate. That you wouldn't be some political pawn in the game of royalty. So I ask as a humble commoner who accidently fell in love with a Princess: will you run out on your own wedding with me and try to be happy?"

Fleur sighed but a laugh escaped her lips.

"Where would we even go?"

"Wherever you want," he replied. "Everywhere. Nowhere. To the other side of the world or just down the street. I can't promise it'll be glamorous, but we'd be together. I'm done lying to myself. I'm done pretending that my feelings for you will ever change or go away. I love you, Fleur Delacour, and if you give me the chance, I'll hang the moon for you."

She pulled him in for another kiss, one far more passionate than before. His insides caught fire as he returned the kiss with just as much intent, pouring everything he hadn't said into it. Her hands pulled at his hair as she deepened the kiss. He bit her lip in retaliation. She purred at the act.

Fleur, always the sensible one, broke apart, breathing heavily.

"What's the plan?" she asked, her voice husky.

"I…don't actually know," admitted Harry, his breathing returning to normal. Fleur glanced down at his trousers and lifted an eyebrow in victory. He rolled his eyes. "Gabby was the one who planned this whole thing and she never told me how it was supposed to end."

"She never does," Fleur said with a sigh. She looked over at the window and a devilish smile broke out on her face. She looked up at him with mischief in her eyes. "We could leave through the window, steal a car, and be kilometers away before anyone notices."

Reaching down, she pulled several times at the base of her dress until it began to rip. She continued to pull until the bottom half dropped away, leaving it hanging just below her knees. As she looked back up, she shrugged at Harry's questioning gaze.

"I couldn't run the way it was." She took his hand and raised an eyebrow. "Ready to face the world, and everything it throws at us, together?"

He grinned.

"Now, then, forever, and always."

.

~Forever~

.

Richard placed the letter to the side of his plate with a sigh. Another Lord complaining about unimportant matters. He stabbed at his eggs with renewed purpose. Laughter came from his left.

"The eggs didn't make the nobility act like fools, dear," Elise reminded him.

Richard sighed and placed his fork down.

"I know, I've simply got more important things on my mind than the squabbles of grown babies. I'm starting to think Fleur had the right idea on renouncing her title when she ran off with Harry."

He picked up the next letter and paused at the writing on the outside before tearing it open. He scanned the contents and smiled widely.

It's with great pleasure that Harry Potter and Fleur Delacour invite you to a party on the beach. A wedding may take place. Dress for the sun and sand.

Richard laughed and looked over at Elise, renewed energy running through him.

"How does a vacation by the beach sound?"

.

~Always~