{Start of year 5}

Disclaimer:

This is: still J.K. Rowling's dollhouse, still timbarney110's challenge, still not charging money.

Acknowledgements:

Lots of reviews, several that taught me new things, several that I don't know how to incorporate into this story but might end up in future stories, a lot of encouragement. Thanks everyone, I will try to continue to live up to, or down to, your expectations, respectively.

A/N:

It seems that Harry has failed in his impossible promise to protect everyone he possibly can, but especially those who he has marked as his pride. He's suffering from grief and survivors guilt, though he does have intermittent hope that Nim is still out there somewhere, perhaps hovering near the brink of death. And he doesn't know how to find her, nor whether there is a way to rescue her in time.

He falls back on the one strategy that always has mostly worked: Keep his head and hope down, do as he's told (to the extent that it doesn't conflict with his ethics) and save up his righteous indignation at the world's unfairness until opportunities arise for him to rebel against the status quo in a way that will actually accomplish something meaningful, rather than merely uselessly symbolic.

As usual this strategy provides plenty of opportunities to learn things, fortunately with Sirius and Fleur and Amelia paying attention, it also provides opportunities to meet more people than just the denizens of Privet Drive.

...-...

Tour

"Where are you taking him?" said Gabrielle

"All the way around the property line," said Fleur, "To look at all the ward stones."

"Boring," said Gabrielle, "all but the corners are the same."

"He also wants to see how big the sessile oaks grow around here."

"In the old forest?"

"Yes, in the old forest," said Fleur.

Gabrielle made a face and wandered away.

"She's not allowed there without an adult with her," said Fleur, then whispered, "mostly to guard the wildlife from her."

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"She should be able to feed herself by now, but … she hasn't learned stealth, probably has never been hungry enough to learn."

Harry shrugged, and suddenly felt like he was listening to Hedwig or Nim criticising the other's hunting technique.

"Oh, alright," he said.

"Come on," said Fleur, "do you want to borrow a broom or did you bring yours?"

"I brought mine," he said, and retrieved it from his day pouch.

She raised her eyebrows when she saw what brand he had, but she didn't comment. And then she smirked like she'd just won a bet.

.

"What is the noise?"

She listened for a moment as if she couldn't hear anything, then she smiled widely, "Those are Cigales," she said, "they always hum this time of year, it means the beginning of summer hols."

"Oh, ok."

"They are big insects," she held her fingers to indicate size, "They live in the trees during summer, and underground during winter. If I see any I'll point them out."

"Thanks."

"You don't have them in England?"

Harry shrugged, "No idea, not that I've noticed."

She shrugged, "Well, they don't always sing all day, but I can't predict when they will take a break. But once one starts they will all sing for a while."

.

After a couple kilometres of flying along just to the left of a cleared track with stone cairns every fifty to eighty yards, they came to a stand of slightly taller but much fatter trees. Fleur landed and Harry set down near her.

"We're getting close to the corner of Papa's property," said Fleur, "over there is Réserve Biologique Intégrale de la Sylve d'Argenson. I believe there are tourist areas, but this side is more restricted access: no tourists, just rangers and at certain times of year, ecology students. So stay inside our wards."

"I understand."

"About half a kilometre that way is the den I made with my cooperation tutor."

"Ah."

"About three times farther, and a bit more that direction, is the one Mum and Papa made during their honeymoon."

"Oh."

"You should probably look at both, to get an idea what Gabrielle's instincts might be aiming toward."

"Because the closer I can stay to imitating her instincts, the more likely she is to follow along in letting her instincts teach her?"

"Yes."

"Alright," said Harry, "show me."

.

"Some of these trees are insanely big."

Fleur shrugged.

"You're used to them?"

"Accustomed to, yes, but also, my bird instincts tell me it is not a sufficient forest unless the trees are big enough to make a den under. Just like human instincts tell me to look for land with a mix of grass and water and trees."

.

"Here we are, down here."

"You said 'under' but I expected you meant under the branches, not under the trunk."

A shrug. "Some jungle trees root differently and are even better for denning, but these are sufficient."

"This is bigger yet cosier than I expected."

"You're not as tall yet as my partner in building it. It doesn't need to be as deep. It doesn't need to be as big in any direction. Just big enough to shelter a family of three, plenty of time to expand later, you know, except there won't be a later."

Harry sighed.

"There will be a later, eventually," she corrected herself, "But not until her human mind is also an adult."

"Yeah," said Harry, "Tell me about the branches, were they furniture?"

"No, the bigger ones were thatch, the smaller ones were carpet, my male had his wand and conjured our chairs and mattresses, rather than harvest wood and branches to craft them, Mamma crafted chairs and table eventually and put them in hers. She picnics there sometimes with Papa, I think usually her birthday and their anniversary. but they don't always tell me where they are going. I've just seen the furniture."

"I see."

"What do you think? Any questions?"

"I've read in Muggle literature that children in Scotland sometimes also build small dens by instinct, but instead of well ventilated, theirs tend to be on the south or lee side of large rocks, sometimes harvesting and stacking more sod or peat around to offer even more protection from the wind, or merely thatching over abandoned peat quarries. But it seems that their instinct isn't prompting them to build love nests, but to increase the chances there will be somewhere sheltered to escape, and somewhat warmer to wait out the worst of the front, when rain or fog or blizzard roll in."

"Hmm, interesting," said Fleur, "Having been there in winter, I can see why that could be handy. I wonder if I went back in the summer I'd notice the instinct, to prepare for the next winter."

Harry shrugged.

"I mean," she said, "is it a universal human instinct that gets awoken by experiencing that kind of weather, and I have now experienced the weather there, or if it is mostly only children of local families that act that way."

"I don't know," said Harry, "I haven't noticed the instinct in myself, but … I might have always had too much to do to allow myself time to listen to that sort of thing."

"Hmm, yes, it might be an instinct that is best let to trigger, after the fields are planted, while you wait for them to grow."

Harry nodded, "That makes sense. Do you want to demonstrate how to make these clay tiles, or should I wait and experiment for myself?"

Fleur shrugged, "It's not very hard with a wand, it wasn't particularly hard with birdflame either, the difficult part is the slow cooling, actually. Easier if you don't get them hot enough to melt, just hot enough to drive all the water out. That heating has to be slow enough not to explode from boiling also. And of course you cannot do it in place, because that might scorch your tree's roots, and it would be a shame to kill your tree."

"Sounds like something I'd want to automate with runes."

Fleur shook her head, "dig it all, sort out the best most clay-like mud, probably from several layers down, then wet it to mud, form it into tiles, lay them in the sun if you even have sun, or just put them in a row and put a heating charm on each, renewing them and raising the temperature until it gets that pumice-like ringing sound to it. Then let it cool again. If you want it waterproof you've got to heat it until it's just barely melting, but then you've got to deal with it shrinking and shattering as it cools. I mean … don't worry if a few shatter, that will give you the slivers to fill in from the fact that your floor-walls are a round bowl instead of muggle rectangles.

"Wouldn't hexagons work better than squares?"

Fleur stared at him, "if you make rectangles, only one side has to be the same every time, and square angles, then tile them like bricks, if you make squares you have two sides that must be the same every time, hexagons you have three sides and six angles that must be the same every time."

"What is possible and efficient with an assumption of automation, vs what is most efficient with an assumption of doing this manually, and never for long enough to need automating."

"Yes."

"Alright."

"Other groups of parallelograms with the same angles and the same width also tile well. But then you have to worry about turning them upside down at the wrong step in the process and ending up with the wrong side waterproofed or anything."

" … Ah, yes, I suppose."

.

"I think I'm ready to see the other one."

"This way, how's your under-canopy broom flying?"

"Probably not as good as yours."

"But you're not scared to try?"

"Certainly not, it sounds like a fun challenge."

"These tiles are a diamond pattern, like you mentioned."

"They are, and it's a nice hexagon star right in the middle, and the rest is just semi-rhomboids, but they married in their late twenties, and had already courted some, you and Gabrielle are … going to be emotionally charged and … learning to cooperate rather than cooperating to prove how good at it you already are."

"Ah."

"Also Gabrielle might retreat from anything but the simplest French, and hand motions and prowess flares."

"That is not what I signed up for," sighed Harry.

"Are you quitting?"

"No, or not just because of that," said Harry, "I'm just … not certain how I'm going to be sure what I'm doing."

"She cannot apparate or portkey home," said Fleur, "the trees are intermittently too dense to get a good read on the sun or stars. She'll probably know exactly where she is, but not be able to orient well enough to walk home."

"You want me to kidnap her, drag her into her own woods, and keep her here and alive until she goes Stockholm for me?"

"Yes … sort of, and even farther until she gets over fighting your status with her status, and lets you wear her status when you're doing things her way, and you let her wear your status when she's doing things your way, and in general willing to cooperate to get things done."

"Does sex really have to be part of all that?"

"Huh?"

"I don't want to rape her."

"You'll both be trying to seduce each other into building the house your way, and arranging it your way, and eating and snuggling and sleeping and sexing your way, or even just … communicating well enough that any of those things can happen both of your way, instead of a status fight or an affection fight."

Harry sighed, "This isn't the pretend honeymoon we told Sirius about, this is a wilderness survival adventure summer camp with wild veela sex on the side?"

Fleur smiled, "You say that like wilderness survival adventures are hard to come by."

Harry stared at her, "I guess it just depends on who you are and who you know." And what property they own and will let you touch.

"And now you know me."

"Is putting a sound dampening charm on Gabrielle to help her with her hunting considered cheating?"

"Cheating is me showing you what you're aiming at, so that you have some chance of understanding what she's trying to do, or what to start doing to catch her interest in not sleeping completely exposed to the sky."

"Oh."

"I figured that given the language barrier, and your cultural illiteracy about veela, it was only fair, to give you some hints."

"More fair to me, less fair to Gabrielle's sense of status to be able to teach me something?"

"I'm sure she'll have lots of artistic input to give no matter how quickly you can dig, pack, and conjure with your wand."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Also I haven't told you anything about proper thatch technique, I figure she'll be better at that regardless."

"Oh," said Harry, "I guess my last question is: … do the contraceptive charms that work on humans work on part-veela?"

She frowned, "depends on which mechanism they operate by, does it kill his sperm, or affect her hormones?"

"The one Hermione taught me does both, though she says it only does the second mildly, also it lubricates."

Fleur nodded, "lasere?"

Harry nodded.

She held out her hand in a fist and pointed to it, "show me that you can cast it."

He drew and cast at her fist. She opened it and held it up to the light, and nodded, then rubbed her fingers together and sniffed it, "This is properly cast, and will work properly for us."

"Alright," Harry put his wand away.

Fleur grimaced at him and drew her wand to cast a finishing charm on her hand, dispelling the sticky-slick substance.

"Sorry," said Harry.

She shrugged and put her own wand away.

"Anything else we should discuss?"

Harry shrugged, "how often will you be checking on us, or want us checking in or whatever."

Fleur shrugged, "how about I'll be in my den for an hour after sunset every night, come if you need anything, try not to bring her along until you're sure first level attachment is solid."

Harry shrugged, "How will I know that?"

Fleur stared at him, "When she feels about you the way you already feel about her."

Harry blinked, "Um, what?"

Fleur rolled her eyes, "Never mind, two or three days, probably."

...-...

The Bird and Lion

"Do you want to go for a broom ride?" said Harry.

"Sure, " said Gabrielle.

.

"Why didn't Fleur come?"

"She had floo calls to make or something, maybe about getting a job."

"Oh."

.

"Do you want to stop for lunch?"

"We may not stop here, this is old forest."

"Fleur said we could be here if we are totally quiet."

"Oh … really?"

"Yes."

"I don't believe you."

"Then … well, let's anyway, and you get to tell on me when we get back."

After several seconds of dubious staring she smiled, "alright."

They landed and Harry put their brooms into his pouch and conjured a quilt and plates, and got out the first of several meals he'd packed under stasis.

For a while they ate and intermittently talked and whispered, gradually Harry became more insistent on whispers.

When they'd finished and begun to pack up, rather than unconjuring the quilt Harry inked his rune on it and claimed it 'as his ballroom,'

"What?" said Gabrielle.

"Princess Gabrielle," whispered Harry and bowed, "May I have this dance?"

"I know—"

"Shh," hissed Harry.

"I know for sure we're not allowed to dance here," she hissed back.

"What if we were to be invisible so that the animals wouldn't see us and be scared off?"

She frowned fiercely at him.

"What if we were to be invisible so that Fleur cannot catch us if she comes looking?"

She frowned even more deeply, then giggled.

"Shh," hissed Harry, in exaggerated desperation.

Which set her off a little bit more.

He tried to glower even more seriously.

She became more amused, but also tried to keep it quiet.

He nodded his approval. Then took off the rough pewter circlet he'd made earlier in the day, to make sure he was understanding his transfiguration homework on 'shaping,' (the simple in theory process of transfiguring something from a base material into something more easily worked,) in this case parchment, then folding, cutting out two stars and a 'sign of the green eyed lion,' shaping the top edge into something crown shaped, and rolling the bottom edge over several times. Then cancelling the transfiguration, leaving it a pewter crown.

"I, Harry Potter," he intoned in a low voice, "the Lion Prince of Invisibility, Lend this crown of invisibility to Bird Princess Gabrielle, to allow her to be My Bird Princess of Invisibility, whenever she chooses to wear my crown."

She looked at him dubiously, then waved her hand through what she must assume was only a mime, but she found the crown and grasped it. After a moment's hesitation she donned it, and gave a start and stared down at the quilt. She took the crown off and put it back on.

"How does it do that?"

"I told you, I am the Lion Prince of Invisibility, and my things can be invisible, if I put my rune on them."

"Oh," she said, obviously still unsure how much of his rhetoric to believe, "are you sure it's not just the runes?"

"I'm sure it is entirely the runes, but also entirely that they belong to me."

She contemplated this with a pronounced frown of irritated bemusement, but then seemed to give up on account of not knowing enough English to be sure how much of an idiot he was being.

"Now what?"

Harry shrugged, "Shall we dance?"

"No," she said and sat down.

Harry sat down.

She stared at him, and petted the quilt, then took the crown off and petted the quilt some more.

"Is it still here?"

"It was never here, it was conjured," said Harry, "But it provides a true illusion, even holding our crumbs up off the ground, and the dirt down away from our food."

"But the illusion is still here?"

"Yes."

"And you can see it?"

"Yes."

"And I cannot, I see the dirt …"

"Actually you cannot," said Harry, "But you can almost remember what kind of dirt and leaves and bark were there before we put the blanket down, and try to paint that in where the illusion blanket is keeping you from seeing what is there, and my rune is keeping you from seeing the blanket. When you wear the crown, you belong to me, and are allowed to see my invisible things."

She stared at him for a long time, then put the crown on, and took it off several times.

"Do you want to be mine?"

Harry smiled, but wasn't sure what to say, finally he said, "What would Bird Princess Gabrielle like to lend to the Lion Prince in token of lending him the right to be called hers?"

She shrugged and checked her pockets, perhaps intentionally she didn't check her belt pouch, "What would you like?"

"I would like a few of your feathers stuck into my braid."

She raised an eyebrow and looked thoughtfully at his braid, then nodded, "What size feathers?"

He held up his thumb and his finger next to it to show the width of two or three fingers, "This big, or a little smaller."

She frowned, then turned all her arm hair to feathers, and selected several feathers, plucking them out with her teeth and held them out.

"Would you like to put them in?"

She shrugged, then nodded.

He crouched so that she could reach.

She walked around him, placing them where she thought best.

"Now what?" she said, and hid all but a few of her feathers.

"What do you want to do?" he said.

"Are you sure we're allowed to be here?"

"Yes."

"Are you really my prince?"

"Until I run out of feathers, you're allowed to call me that."

She frowned, "and am I really your princess?"

"Until you …" he was going to say until you take off my crown, but she didn't currently have it on, "Until you give me back my crown, and tell me you don't want to be my princess anymore."

"Alright," she said, "What will Fleur say?"

"Well, she cannot see my crown," said Harry.

She nodded.

"And while you're wearing it, she cannot see you, which would hopefully make it difficult for her to take you away from me."

"Hmm."

"Do you want to go for a walk? Instead of dancing?"

"I would vary much like to go for a walk, Which way?"

She picked up the quilt and flipped it over one shoulder, then led the way, he took her hand and followed her lead. He figured she might even pick out the best tree, with no more reason than that it looked most comfortable to be near.

"'Lion Prince of Invisibility' is much too long to say often."

"Sher is short for lion, in India."

"Sher is longer than Lion."

"Lion is fine, so is Hari, which is my name in English, and also short for green in India."

She giggled, "Lion and Bird?"

"Alright," said Harry.

"I wish I could really fly."

"Me too."

"I mean without a broom."

"I also wish I could fly without a broom."

"You aren't almost a veela."

"No, but sometimes when I sleep, my owl Hedwig sends me pictures of hunting."

"Oh," she turned and stared at him for a while, then nodded.

"Which tree would you sit in?" said Harry, "If you could fly?"

She looked around, "if you were an owl, you could sit in any of them, if I were a veela, … one of the oaks."

"Hmm."

"If I were an owl," she said, "one of the beach trees, especially when the wind is blowing, and making everything rock."

"Ah! That would be fun," he agreed.

"What if you were a cat?" he said, "Or a badger?"

She snickered, but began looking at tree roots instead of tree tops.

After one particularly steep hill they'd barely started down the far side when she turned back, and to the side and crouched next to the biggest tree he'd seen since Fleur's.

He watched her sit and pant for a moment, and tried to analyse how she must be feeling to huddle like that. Then he realised that it was the tree that was big, not that she was folded in on herself.

He crouched next to her and waited. She kept panting.

"That was quite a climb," he said.

She nodded, "I just want to be out of the sun for a minute."

"That's fine," said Harry, "We've got all day."

She smiled.

After a few seconds she put her hand on his cheek.

He did his best not to react.

She seemed to be hoping for exactly that, because a few seconds later she lifted her other hand and traced a finger along his scar.

He felt both goosebumps and nausea.

"How did you get this?"

"It happened before I can remember," said Harry.

"Oh," she said, traced it one more time and took her hands away.

He pulled up his sleeve, "This one I got from a snake."

"Oh," she said, "What kind?"

"The biggest."

"How big?"

"As big as this tree."

"No way."

He turned and looked. "No," he agreed, "This tree is bigger than any I've seen in England, the Snake was … a third as wide as this tree."

"Snakes don't get that big," she said.

"Trees don't get this big," he said, and patted the tree.

She laughed at him.

She had the crown on, he didn't bother to shush her.

"But this tree did," she said.

"Yes, exactly."

After a while she understood.

"Are you mine?" she said.

He sighed, "I have to go home eventually."

"No, I meant, aren't you Fleur's boyfriend."

"No," said Harry, "Just her friend."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why aren't you her boyfriend?"

"Do you mean, why don't I trust her not to be mean?" said Harry, "or do you mean, why do I like you more?"

"You like me more?"

"Yes."

"Oh, … why?"

"I don't know, but I think because you're less mean."

"She's nice to me."

"You're her sister, and I'm not her brother."

"Hmm, … she likes you a lot, you know."

"She likes me enough."

"Humph."

"Humph?"

She looked away.

They were quiet.

She moved a little and stretched her legs, then stood up and turned to look up at the tree trunk. Then crouched down again.

Harry stood and stretched his legs too. Before he crouched again he looked around and conjured a couple seat cushions over the only root that trailed away in complete shade. He sat down on one. She stared intently at the other one.

"There's a game I want to play," she said.

"What game?" said Harry.

She turned away and sat down, still on the ground.

"What game?" said Harry.

She sniffed.

"Are you crying?"

"No," she wailed.

Harry got up and walked around her to kneel next to her.

She looked up and stared at him, the tops of her cheeks wiggled intermittently. Her tears had not yet spilled.

"You cry very different than I do," said Harry.

"I'm not crying," she said. This time it managed to sound like the truth. Also she sounded a little angry.

"Alright," said Harry, "You 'not cry,' very differently than I do."

She smiled a little, "Would you be my boyfriend?"

Harry shrugged and looked away, "You know I have to leave eventually?" knowing that he wasn't playing the part he was supposed to, and also knowing that he refused to lie about this topic.

"Yes, I know," she said.

He shrugged, "What do you want?"

She sniffed again and looked away again.

"Have you heard of a game called veela in love?"

"Maybe," said Harry, "Is that the one where we dig a house and snuggle in it overnight? Or the one where we do that and try to catch our own food without help from our parents', or the one where we do all that and pretend to be boyfriend and girlfriend also."

She grinned, then shrugged, then nodded, "yes, those games, have you played before?"

"I've played some of the parts, but never all of them in one place, with one person."

She nodded, "you like it here don't you?"

He nodded, "I like how quiet it is, and beautiful."

She smiled, then looked away, "all my other friends were either too young or too stupid to play the way I wanted, or too busy to even walk this far into the woods."

"Ah," said Harry, but he bit back his next statement of condolence, that would be too little about what he knew and felt, and too much about how Fleur had managed to make him understand.

After a while he said, "I cannot promise that I am smart enough to know how you want to play, you might have to be patient and explain carefully."

She shrugged, and nodded.

"How do we start?" said Harry.

"Supposed to start at dawn with hunting together, except," she shrugged, "and anyway we just ate."

"True," Harry shrugged,

"And then pick out a tree to dig under."

Harry looked around, "If I pick this one, will you be mad you didn't get to pick it first?"

"What?"

"Were you going to already pick it?"

She blinked.

"Or do you need to teach me how to pick one, so that we can actually pick it together?"

She stared at him and started laughing.

Finally she stopped, "I cannot tell if you're being silly on purpose, or because … you're being careful not to use English I don't have yet."

"Probably both," said Harry, "I like when you laugh, but … I'm not sure we're allowed to be that loud."

She grinned, and rolled her eyes, "this tree is probably good enough, but we should probably look around just in case."

Harry nodded.

"How do we find our way back to this one, though?"

"Put the invisible blanket here," said Harry, "I can usually find the things that are using up my magic to be invisible."

Her eyes rolled up and back.

"Yes," he said, "as long as you're wearing that, I'll be able to find my way back to you."

So they walked in a search pattern that sometimes Harry could comprehend, and sometimes he couldn't, they did not find a bigger tree, they did find two others that were nearly as big, but both had patterns of roots that made Gabrielle nervous.

Eventually they returned to the tree near the top of the hill.

Harry was going to just start digging on the downward edge, but she wandered around tapping on the tree and doing several other assessments before she finally agreed where to start. (almost the same place he'd planned) but she wanted him aiming down and across at a very different angle.

"And don't cut any roots bigger than this?" she held up two of her fingers.

"I'll do my best," said Harry.

She glared, "It's my tree," she said, "I just said, cut off its toe hair, and toes if you need to, but do not cut off its feet or legs."

Harry bit his lip, "So … use spells that can be aimed at dirt and rocks and skip past wood?"

She nodded.

.

They shared and tested excavating spells, and soon had a hole deep enough to curl up in, but they weren't yet tired, and knew that they still had picnic cups to conjure water into so they'd be able to get a bit more done before it was time to start worrying about dinner.

After two hours they were at the first limit of magical exhaustion, also they had a hole that Harry's very limited camping experience told him was wide enough for three sleeping bags side by side, and deep enough for Gabrielle to stand up in.

Harry couldn't stand up without hitting his head on roots throughout most of the overhang; but it was less cramped to his size now, than the cupboard under the stairs had been since he was seven.

"Bird," said Harry, "I think we should stop and rest for a little while."

So they did.

Harry crouched where he was.

Gabrielle climbed out and climbed back down with the quilt and the cushions.

She spread it out,

"Only a little wider," she said, and laid down on it and put her head on a cushion.

"You know," said Harry, "I conjured the quilt for picnicking and the cushions for sitting, not to somehow be the perfect size for a den house."

"I know," she said, "But it seems like a good measuring thing anyway." She handed him the other cushion, "also sit on your sitting cushion already."

"Humph," he agreed, and placed it beside him and slumped sideways onto it.

She watched him for several seconds, then moved hers, and sat on it, then slumped sideways onto his lap.

"Bird," he yawned.

"What?"

"I'm ready for a nap."

"Why didn't you say so before I got back up again?"

"You're hardly 'up' right now," he said.

"Yes, well," she said, "Did I say that right?"

"Yes," he said.

"Good," she said, "are you going to insist on making sleeping pillows?"

"Yes, later, but not while I'm taking a break from using so much magic."

"Oh," she said.

They didn't move for several minutes, and then he picked her up and placed her just far enough away that he could scoot off his cushion and lay down. She curled up with her back to his side.

"Lion," she said.

"What?"

"Don't lay on your back, you'll get more dirt in your eyes that way."

"Oh," he said, "yeah, alright."

He rolled toward the ramp out and daylight. Which also happened to leave him spooned around her.

She seemed to like that, without giving any indication that she'd done that on purpose, or that she knew enough to know it was a known snuggle ideal.

.

About forty minutes later he was beginning to feel enough himself again, with enough magic to spare to be able to contemplate real sleep.

"We are both breathing easier," she said, "are you … going to want to dig more, or only go out hunting?"

"I think I don't want to dig more for a while," he said, "But I'm less tired than I was."

She nodded, "me also."

"What do you want to do?"

"I wish to sleep until noon tomorrow," she yawned, "and then hunt."

"That does sound desirable, but not possible."

She nodded and rolled quickly away into a kneeling posture.

"What?" he said.

"Something desirables to do the other kind of sleeping, yes?" she felt through his clothes for his crotch.

"Something wanted to remind me to pee before I try to sleep."

"Something doesn't want me?"

"Something wants you very much," said Harry, "But I haven't let it in on the secret that you might be hunting it, for fear it might try to get away."

She stared at him, then smiled a little, "Maybe I should get ready for hunting, and see if I can lure it out of hiding, yes?"

Harry wasn't sure what she'd just said, but when she started to disrobe and went to the corner to hang her clothes from roots protruding from the ceiling and walls, his tiny store of French phrases fell into place enough for him to guess her meaning.

And he had meant what he said about being physically fine, it was only his magic that was still recovering from the excessive earth-moving project. Which still wasn't done. And she wanted to keep him around several more days to help finish.

That was the concept, even more than the other 'calls of nature' that had aroused his blood.

He shrugged out of his robes, and hung them in the corner near where hers were hanging.

When only his small clothes remained, he turned to her and waited for her attention.

If she only wanted a drawers-on make-out session at first, he would comply.

She'd started first and hadn't taken so long in the cramped space, but her cross country flying costume had consisted of more garments to start with.

But at his sudden cease of motion, she looked up and took in his intermittent state of undress.

"You left the best gift for me to unwrap, oui?" she gripped the hem of his drawers, then looked into his eyes and waited.

"Oui," he said.

She smiled, and took them down, he stepped out of them, she hung them by the others, and motioned to the last of her small clothes, "you unwrap too?"

"Certainly," he said, and crouched before her to follow her rather vague and imperious gesture.

When everything was hung they lay down again, Harry didn't need much calculation to decide he'd feel least fear for her safety if he let her be on top, and as he settled to prepare for that, none of her motions seemed to indicate she'd expected anything different.

She climbed on and settled around him so quickly that he wondered if she'd actually had more experience than her sister gave her credit for. And then he saw her grimace and the way the expression grew and wavered as she moved.

"You don't have to move so fast," he told her.

She stopped and stared at him.

He drew his wand and cast the contraceptive charm, "See if that helps any."

She moved again and slid more easily, her grimace faded but not as much as he'd hoped.

He wasn't sure if she was still too small for his girth, or if her mixed heritage had bequeathed her with a shape of insides that didn't pair well with his own shape somehow. Maybe not with anything that actually existed in nature.

It did seem more spiny or bony or just tendony in there than he was used to, but she wasn't hurting him.

"Do you want more lubricant?" he said.

"Lubrifiant?" she said, "grease?"

"Yes."

She nodded.

He complied.

She relaxed farther and closed her eyes.

He put his wand away.

She still didn't look comfortable.

He brushed his fingers across and along where he'd learned to look for the clit and other pleasure bits on other girls. She opened her eyes again and watched what he was doing.

"I told you you don't have to move so fast, if you don't want to," he said.

"Does it hurt you?"

"No, but you're making faces like it's hurting you."

Her face twisted in what he later figured out was thought. "Pain," she said finally, "isn't the only kind, of intense," she said.

"Alright," he said, and took that as permission to keep doing what he was doing, adding his other hand to the mix by stroking up and down her thigh and around her knee.

She smiled, and continued, and closed her eyes, "you also don't have to be going so fast."

He slowed down a little.

.

She never did change her expression to something he'd recognise as 'happy' until after she'd had her first set of spasms. Then she'd opened her eyes and looked at him in mixed wonder, and desire for approval.

"Now that you've seen what you were looking for," he whispered, "are you going to keep hunting for more of it, or are you going to rest for a while?"

She smiled lazily, "what do you want me to do?"

"I want you to try to find that one more time, and then we will rest and take a break for water."

"Alright," she smiled and started moving again, this time finally taking a relaxed pace and more obviously enjoying the process.

Which also finally let Harry relax and divert some of his focus to searching for his own pleasure.

Eventually he sat up some, and hooked his elbows under her knees and helped her move at a pace and depth and angle in line with his desires. She seemed to notice the difference, and did not object.

Though her expression did change from mere 'relaxed enjoyment' to 'focused observation.'

They didn't finish exactly together, but it was near enough for Harry to feel proud of himself.

She didn't seem to notice the nearness of their syncrony, but she did notice that he'd finished, surprise crossed her features, and then joy, "That felt very good to you, oui?"

"Oui," he said.

She smiled and leaned forward from the pose her shivers had shaken her into and embraced him. He let her knees down gently and returned the embrace.

"That was wonderful," she said.

"Oui," he agreed.

"Next time," he said, "feel free to tell me what you want, even if it's only in French or whatever, I might not be very fast to understand the French, but the tone of your excitement might help faster than only what I can see from how you hold your lips and eyebrows."

She smiled and hummed, and tilted her head so that she could bite his chin, and then lick some of his sweat off.

"Humans have a reputation for doing things like that before sex, instead of after."

"Things like what?"

"Biting and licking," he said.

"Oh," she said, "Does it make you want the sex?"

Harry shrugged, "It's harder for me to want sex, right after sex."

She frowned like he was excessively stupid.

"I think," he said, "the licking and play biting means what you meant earlier, 'Are you really mine?' 'Am I really yours?' 'How closely are we pretending anyway, right now?'"

"Also you taste good," she said.

"Oh," he said, and licked up some of the sweat gathered on her temple.

"If you're wanting salt that much," he whispered, "should we be going to find you some blood?"

She grinned so that all her teeth showed while she licked them, "Yes," she said, "But we don't need to hurry, I'm only thirsty."

Without looking away from her face he fumbled for the corner behind him where he thought he'd left his belt pouch. Eventually he retrieved their cups. And conjured water into both.

When they'd each drunk their fill, she glanced into her still half full cup, "finish mine?" she suggested and put her cup to his lips and started tilting.

It wasn't like they hadn't just had sex, unprotected except against pregnancy, and it wasn't like he didn't expect to be kissing her by the end of the week.

He accepted her dregs and they put their cups back in his pouch.

"Now what?" he said.

"Lay down," she said, "I think sleep."

He lay back, she adjusted her knees slightly and lay on top of him, their bottoms still fully engaged, though he'd been shrinking at his usual pace until that last gulp of water.

"Just like this?" he said.

"Just like this," she purred.

"Or more like this?" he asked, and conjured a blanket on top of them both.

"Probably better," she agreed.

He wondered if veela had the same problems that humans had, waking up stiff from sleeping too cold or in weird postures.

She made no move to get more comfortable. And he didn't have a special reason not to try the experiment.

.

They woke in the night to pee, then snuggled again, this time like spoons.

.

In the morning they dressed, only using about half their clothes. They went out to gather food. At first Harry was reluctant to call anything edible. But he dutifully tried every plant that Gabrielle told him was edible. He was less sure about the small woodland animals, or the vicious way she'd stun them and summon them.

"Is using magic cheating?"

She turned to stare at him, and with a straight face said, "I could cook and kill them with fireballs instead, that is the natural way, but … the meat tastes better if they are cooked after cleaning."

"Also less chance of setting the whole forest on fire," he said, "But the last three you didn't cook at all, just bit open, spit out the entrails and munched the meat from the bones and skin."

She shrugged, "I'm hungry, it only needs cooking if the animal is sick, in which case I leave it alone, or if you leave the meat for hours between when you cut it and eat it."

"If you're sure," he said.

"I'm sure," she said, and raised her wand to stun another. "Cooking is also for if you are craving the entrails instead of the meat."

Harry knew he wasn't a healer, but after half an hour watching her eat, Harry decided that if he picked up any parasites eating raw birds, he'd deal with it later, when back in England and civilisation. It was the kinds of parasites that would be in mammals that he was more concerned would be easy to catch and hard to get rid of.

After that he helped stun them.

By noon they had eaten more than their fill and filled a makeshift cage with stunned birds.

"Are you intentionally targeting the magpies and jackdaws," he asked as they made their way back toward their den.

"Not really," she said, "they just are bigger and … I don't like them living too close."

"Are they a danger to young veela?"

"Not since we gave up laying eggs I don't think," she said.

"I've been wondering about that."

"What about it?"

"Your breasts seem different than other girls."

"From human girls?" she said, "or from other veela?"

"I meant different from human, I think the only place your sister and I have touched is to hold hands."

"Helping us out of the water?" she said.

He shrugged.

She took his hand and placed it on her breast, then tilted her arm and brought it forward and back.

"What?" he said.

"Is it that my flying muscles are under them?"

"Yes, maybe."

She nodded, "that is why the myth that there are only girl veela, boy veela have lots of muscle here too. But girl veela have real breasts on top of that."

"Ah, that makes sense."

"It makes human girls jealous I think."

"Maybe, or trying to keep the focus of their boys when your prowess is radiating everywhere."

She snorted and carefully placed the cage of birds where they'd stay in the shade.

"How about you, Lion? Why wouldn't you eat that nice vole I found, or the squirrels?"

Harry shrugged, "Maybe I don't have enough common sense to be paranoid properly, but if I'm going to be eating things uncooked, I'd rather it be birds."

"Hmm," she said, "oh, alright."

.

They spent the first part of the afternoon excavating, then she went out to look for pine or grass for thatch, and he set about experimenting with mud tiles.

By evening he had a fair idea of the techniques required, and the idea that if he wanted soil with a higher concentration of clay he'd have to dig for it either farther down, or deeper into their hillside. Which left him pondering what shape den would be more practical.

Deeper meant less ducking under roots. Not that the big tap root would ever not be in their way. But farther back meant more floor area, which might mean enough room to lay down in a direction that didn't feel so foreign.

.

Gabrielle returned the final time with poles of a very different character than her earlier retrievals. Soon she'd assembled a little lean-to above their den entrance, but it had no strength to it and she couldn't get it to stay still enough to begin weaving thatch in.

He listened to her curse and complain for half an hour, and watched her work before he had an inspiration, "What about the skins you saved of the vole and squirrels? Could you cut that into strips to tie your wood in place?"

"I can try," she said, "not sure my knife is sharp enough to make strips."

"I'm alright with a cutting charm," he said.

Her eyes brightened, "worth a try," she said, "here, practice on a squirrel skin first."

"Alright," he said, and did.

He also taught her the cutting charm, and she used it on sticks well enough, but she didn't trust herself to use it on her animal skins, not until she had more extras.

In the evening they ate several more birds, then went to the bottom of the hill to rinse each other and their clothes clean and returned to their den to copulate until they fell asleep.

.

Harry woke to her getting up to pee, and realised that he needed that also.

It took him longer to find his glasses and shoes. So he met her on her way back. She smiled and admired the moonlight to him, while he did his business. He wasn't sure whether to be embarrassed, and annoyed at her for ignoring his privacy. Or to admire her intimate disregard for the cultural training that made him desire the privacy in the first place.

In the end he decided to be grateful for the mental mirror in which to examine himself and the cultural mandate that taught him to want privacy. Without thereby passing judgement on the culture that protected him from … being barged in on by all his adoring fans, or jealous detractors.

If a veela was never disarmed, then perhaps being caught with one's pants down wasn't nearly as dangerous, and therefore not something to worry as much about serving the calls of nature in a nominally fortified environment.

By that method of calculating, he was never naked except when he took off his wand holster for showers.

As they started up the hill together he gained a different perspective on their surroundings, "Bird," he said, "You picked a very pretty section of forest." And he realised that as she had finished her business that much earlier, she had been that much more ready to chat about the light of the waxing moon.

"Yes, I did," she said, "but it would be nice to have a little more clearing, so we could see more stars."

"We cannot see many stars anyway, with the moon up."

"Oui, mais" she said, and paused, trying again to find a decently sized gap in the canopy. A few paces on he stopped to wait for her.

"Lion," she giggled as she again started to follow.

"What?" he said, "quel?"

"You are also very beautiful. We should live by moonlight, and without clothes."

She looked very nice also, "Oh, wow … thank you," he said.

She giggled again.

"I think," he said once she was by his side and they were walking together, "if I'm going to be tripping around the forest in the dark, I'd rather I was wearing clothes."

"Hmm," she said.

"If I were going to choose a place to neglect clothes, it would be a nice human made house with flat floors."

"I think," she said, "my lion would not look beautiful without clothes in a place like that, but here he is very pleasing."

"Oh," he said, "maybe."

.

...-...

Reporting to Fleur

"Hello, Harry," said a voice in the dark.

With that hint of her location, Harry crept more confidently down into the dark. "Hello, Fleur." He answered.

"How is she?"

"Adjusting to having my mostly undivided attention, and getting used to nothing she can do with her prowess or her frowns from changing that."

"Humph, and?"

"There's been some digging, and some snuggling and some sex."

"Good, how is the cooperation coming?"

"We've been cooperating from the start, but the negotiation so far has rarely ever been more than a single step in advance. It doesn't feel like teaching her how to cooperate, or how to plan activities for cooperative work. It feels like … like she's been dreaming of playing 'veelas in love' for years if only she could find someone intelligent enough or gullible enough to be worth playing with. And I happen to only be a convenient almost-boyfriend of her big sister, whose attention she managed to snag long enough to help her experiment with whether her fantasies can be enacted in real life."

"Damn, that's … almost worse than … no, not worse. It is merely less hopeful than I previously thought."

"That's what I was afraid of," said Harry, "So … do you think she's doing a child's simulation of cooperation, because she thinks she should, instead of developing an adult understanding of it?"

"Maybe," said Fleur, "practice is still practice, and … well even if cooperation with housework won't be as good an indicator that she's learned well enough."

"I'm less concerned that I might be effectively kidnapping her and raping her: She came willingly and proposed the sex herself, but …"

"But what?"

"But she doesn't talk during, I have to watch her very very closely to have any concept what she's experiencing, or how I can best cooperate with her. Her expressions are …"

"Not human?"

"Not human, not English, not muggle," Harry shrugged.

"Intermittently not mammal?" said Fleur.

"Yeah."

"Practice," she said.

"Sometimes, practice is very hard work," he said.

"But you love it."

"I enjoy it," he said.

She narrowed her eyes, "you're thinking of quitting?"

"No," he said.

"But, you want to stop?"

"I never wanted to start?"

"Then why did you?"

"Because a child was in trouble," said Harry, "and a friend asked me to help rescue her."

"Is that all?" said Fleur with a frown.

Harry shook his head, "There was also a complication as there often is, that I seem to be the best available for the job."

"Hmm," she said, "There seems to still be some annoyance and confusion and suspicion between my parents and grandparents that you did not accept pay. A boy at your age, wasting two weeks of his summer on something without pay."

"I have money already," said Harry, "I cannot buy friends or allies. Or not any worth having, anyway."

"Oh," she said. After half a minute she got up and embraced him, "Thank you for taking care of my sister."

"I'm glad I could help," he sighed.

"But you want to stop?"

"I don't want to quit," he said, "Just, a break would be nice."

"A break from my sister?" she snickered, and tightened her hold. He couldn't decide if it were meant as a threat or a comfort.

"No, not that either," he said.

"What then?"

"A break from focusing so hard on not hurting her by accident," said Harry, "A break from worrying that she'd let me and never complain."

"Why wouldn't she complain?"

"Just because you would complain, doesn't mean she would, she's … she's different than you."

...-...

The sharing of responsibility

"Obviously," said Fleur, "But you think that she would not complain because of her personality, and not that she's not experienced enough to know what is good and what is worse than it could be?"

"I wish I knew that for sure also," said Harry.

"Hmm," said Fleur, "What are you planning to do?"

Harry sighed again, "Keep asking her to talk when she has something to say, maybe ask her to keep talking even when she doesn't, sometimes it's faster for me to understand her tone than her words or her expressions."

Fleur nodded, "That sounds sensible."

"Keep being careful, keep trying to only give her good experiences."

"Good," she said.

They were quiet and she started to release him from her embrace.

"Please don't let go," he said.

"What?"

"Please don't let go yet," he said.

"What do you want?"

He shrugged.

"Sex?" she whispered.

He nodded.

"Why?"

"What?"

"Why now?" she said.

"Are you asking 'why now' or are you asking 'why me'?"

"I'm asking: why me?" she said, "I know you can be dangerously honest, and I know that sometimes you cover your meaning with gentler words. I think that you … respect me enough now to use gentler words, I also know that we haven't interacted for several days, and your task has been more complex and active than mine. I need you to be honest, I will if necessary and possible forgive offensive words, but I need to know what you know in order to understand, in order to worry less tomorrow."

"Alright," said Harry.

"Why do you, the boy who ignores veela, want sex with me, who you've always rebuffed before. Why would you wish to take a break from a game of 'veela in love' (who called it that anyway?) to proposition me, whom you might expect would take cheating on her sister to be a very bad sign."

"You know I … lost a close friend recently," said Harry, "and now I feel close to losing at least part of myself," Harry sighed and swallowed past a lump in his throat, "All my closest friends are on the other side of the channel, except Hermione who is in Bulgaria. I cannot go to them for comfort, or for proof that I am not changing into someone different than I wish to be. You're the only person available."

"Hmm," she said. "You're not saying I am the only sex available, you're saying that I am … what?"

"The only person who has observed me from before trying to help Gabrielle, and who is … an adult."

"You want therapy from me."

"I think, yes. Though I might be more able to tell you what kind of sex I'm craving, than explain why that might be therapy, or particularly the kind of therapy I need, and whether there is better therapy for it than sex."

"Alright," she said, "tell me."

"I want sex without fear that you might neglect to tell me to stop, even if you want me to stop."

"Taking care of her makes you tense."

"Very tense."

"You want sex to relax."

"Yes," he said, "I want sex to remember that sex is supposed to make me relax, instead of be a somewhat dangerous and emotionally charged activity to be guiding her through."

"Veela are more resilient than our slight mass might trick you into believing."

Harry shrugged, "probably."

"You're being more of a prostitute for her than I thought," she said.

"Probably," said Harry, "More than I had expected anyway."

"You want sex with me to remind yourself what non-prostitute sex is like?"

"I guess, that might be what I said."

She cupped his cheek and leaned her forehead against his, "how would you want it to go?"

"Start by promising me that you'll order me to stop, if you want me to stop, and push me away even," he said, "then telling me to do whatever I want until you order me to stop, or whatever."

"You want permission to rape me."

"I want to be absolutely sure that I won't be able to rape you by mistake," said Harry, "I want to relax and just enjoy it, with you, knowing that we're both enjoying it, or at least neither of us is getting hurt, or making any sacrifice that they are not willing to make."

She rubbed his cheek again, then backed away, and rustled about for a moment, then a flame hovered over her hand and she placed it into a crude clay dish apparently designed for such purpose.

Harry blinked and looked around in the sudden glare, the openings around the den, even the one by which he'd entered were all blocked with dark curtains. Probably to keep the light from spreading into the darkening woods and perhaps guiding Gabrielle to them.

He turned his attention back to Fleur, she was giving him an appraising glance, then she nodded, "I agree to your plan, except before your turn doing as you please with me, you have a turn, doing exactly as I tell you."

"On the proviso that I will also declare when or if it hurts or I wish to stop?"

"Yes, of course," she said.

"Agreed," he said.

She disrobed.

Harry copied her, stopping at his wizard-style boxer briefs.

She noticed and seemed to approve of both his disrobing so far, and of where he'd chosen to stop.

"Kneel," she said, "but first, make a cushion or something comfortable."

He complied. She conjured a bed and sat on it, and spread her legs.

"Lick me," she said, pointing to her nether regions.

"Alright," he said, and adjusted his kneel to be closer to what he judged to be an ideal height.

"Boring," she said after half a minute, "lick me everywhere that you think I might enjoy being licked, also lick harder."

Harry snickered but complied. She ran her fingers over his braids, "Who braided this?"

Nim braided it, he thought about saying, but wasn't sure how she'd react.

"My sex tutor," said Harry, "before she died."

"You're never taking it out?"

"I keep putting stasis charms on it," he said, "It will come out eventually, but I don't have to help it."

"You'll need to wash it," she said.

He sighed, "For another week I'm camping, and only Gabrielle and you will suspect it is less clean than it should be."

"The feathers are Gabrielle's, obviously."

"Yes."

"They suit you."

"Thank you," said Harry, "what does that mean?"

"Wearing her magic, in place of wearing her status."

"Yeah," Harry said, "I might be too prowess blind to teach her that kind of status sharing, but we can wear each other's magic."

"You gave her strands of your hair also?"

"No, lent her a piece of metal with my personal rune in it."

"Oh, that's nice," she said, "Does it do anything besides let her track you or enchant you? I don't think she knows enough for that yet."

"No, it just pulls a trickle of my magic, and lets her use some of it."

"So more of just a comfort."

"Yes."

"My wand is also veela hair, my grandmother's."

"What?"

"These feathers in your hair."

"They could be used to make very tiny wands?"

"… Yes, in theory."

"Would it mean anything if they did?"

"They're too short for aiming and too narrow for several other things," she said, "Mostly when you work magic while they are in your hair, they will give off a faint glow that mildly matches her magical signature."

"Oh, weird."

"About as strongly as your wand matches the signature of the animal it is from."

"Fawks?"

"Dumbledore's phoenix?"

"Yeah."

"Hmm," she said, "that is a strange coincidence."

"Agreed."

"Stop murmuring in my hair, and move up a little, yes right there, suck there."

"Oh?" Harry said, and tried that.

"Not lick, not rub, suck. Umm with your lips, not your teeth."

?

"Yes, that!" she said, "Keep doing that."

"Mm, Hm," he agreed,

"Yes!" she said, "Suck harder, hum louder."

He'd barely figured out how to manage both of those when she bucked and grabbed his head pushing his nose harder into her stomach.

There was a brief tussle which ended with her on her back so he could breathe, and him continuing to stimulate her while she shivered and shook.

Eventually she caught her breath, "I'm not saying this as permission to stop," she said, "I'm saying this as permission to continue differently."

"Oh?" he said.

"It's your turn," she panted, "to do what you want."

He substituted his left hand for his lips, and conjured a coating of lasere oil over his hand and throughout her pleasure areas, and enough more to saturate the fine straight soft hair she grew around it.

Then he kept stimulating her clit one handed as he took down his drawers and climbed on and lined up and entered her.

"That was kind of impressive," she said.

"Hmm?" he said and re-balanced for the thrusting that he wanted to do.

"Stop showing off, and have fun," she said, "that's what you're here for."

"Yes, ma'am," he said and obeyed.

"What in Circe's name?" she exclaimed when he came the second time and hardly paused.

"What?" he said.

"How many times do you usually do that in a row?"

"Huh?"

"Before you decide to stop?"

He shrugged, "Sometimes climax makes me satisfied, sometimes it makes me feel like I'm finally eating the right thing and should keep feasting."

"But usually?"

"Usually once or twice in a two day period?"

She nodded, "and how often have you given sex to Gabrielle?"

"About once a day."

"And release every time?"

"Usually once, each time," he said.

"Physical release, once each time, once a day?" she said.

"Yes," he said, and wished she'd stop making him talk, he was exercising here. Which as soon as he thought it, made him feel like a hypocrite, maybe Gabrielle just didn't like the sound of herself talking while panting. He'd already figured out she didn't like how discombobulated and French-like her English got when she didn't have any focus left to spare for talking.

He finally understood her concern and confusion.

"It's like we just talked about," he said, "physical release, but emotionally, just more and more tension."

Then he stopped talking because he was climaxing again.

"Thank you for letting me have this," he said when he could speak again.

"Are you done?" she said.

He shook his head, "I'm not trying to stop, I'm just resting to catch my breath."

"So, Now what?" she breathed.

"I want one more," he said, "but it can be slower, you can be on top if you like."

"I like you on top," she said, "but balance your coude a bit higher." She pushed at his arm, and he got the idea what she wanted to be different about his weight distribution.

"Alright?" he agreed, "You have my permission to grab my hips or whatever and help direct how I'm moving."

"Ah, thanks," she said, and grabbed his hips, but after sliding him around a little, she let go of his hips and wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him into a tight embrace.

He smiled and moved his arms under the small of her back to return the embrace.

"Don't worry," she said, "I'll let go when you start moving again."

He nodded and kept panting, "Thank you for this, Fleur."

"You're welcome."

"Really?"

"Really what?"

"When you say the words 'you're welcome' do you mean 'I heard you say thank you and I'm being polite' or do you mean, 'I'm welcome, any time."

"You're welcome to ask again," she said, "any time, Until I get married," she said.

"Oh, wow," he said, "That's way more than I was about to joke you might be meaning by accident."

She shook her head, "actually, I mean, until I get betrothed, or you annoy me enough for me to tell you that you're no longer welcome."

"Alright, That makes more sense," he said, "Ready to start again?"

"Alright," she said, and relaxed the grip of her arms, though she did not remove them.

He found a new rhythm, much slower than previously, she adjusted how she was holding him down. And he began to suspect that he'd been neglecting some of her alternate pleasure spots.

"Is this alright," he said, "Laying down on you I mean, I could sit up, or we could add more lasere, or anything."

She smiled, "try the lasere, that might be nice."

He sat up far enough to get his wand and apply a generous coat across her whole chest and belly, then returned to the previous snuggling arrangement.

This time when he started thrusting, she didn't react negatively and hold tight as if to hold him still. She held tight and helped drag his chest and belly against hers.

Soon she climaxed yet again, "You're better taught than I expected," she panted as she regained control of her diaphragm.

"Or perhaps I just never stop learning," he replied.

"Good," she said, "how many more times do you expect to release?"

He shrugged, "at least one."

"Alright," she said, "I'm not telling you to stop."

He smiled, and held his breath, and tried to hold back a little longer, which did make it a little better, as it often did when he could remember to try.

And then he released again.

They shared a smile.

"Thank you," he panted, "I … guess I needed that."

She smiled more, "I'd say so."

"Is your turn done enough that I may command you?"

He nodded.

She nodded back, "keep going," she said, "Until you release again."

He raised an eyebrow, "I'm not sure," he said, "I can keep going a little longer, I have no idea if I can release again before tomorrow, or the day after."

She smiled oddly, and started him moving.

He fell into her rhythm and resumed the grinding that she'd oriented him toward.

She came twice more before he coughed, and slowed to a stop.

"Well," she said.

"I need to stop," he said, "this new exhaustion feels strange and I'm scared of it."

She looked up at him and ran a finger along his eyebrows and the fringe of his hair, petting the sweat out of it, "you don't need to stop, just because it is new doesn't mean it is bad."

He shrugged.

"Try a little longer," she said.

"It's not physical exhaustion," he said, "I exercise regularly, and Gabrielle and I aren't exactly starving."

She nodded, "What is it then?"

"There is a mental pain that comes from becoming bored with intense physical pain lasting too long."

"I've … heard so," she said.

"It can come from other intense sensations lasting too long, and I'd say that I'm experiencing the mental pain from this sexual touch lasting too long and becoming too intense."

"I might be too," she said, "this is the most climaxes I've had in one session."

"Oh," he said, and smiled a little.

"I don't want to stop now," she said, "I want to see if there's more."

"Keep going?" he said, "pay attention to see what changes, what else can change?"

"Please," she said.

"I'll try," he said.

He went back to grinding, she went back to helping, and directing him to the rhythm she thought would be best.

She came again.

.

She came again and it seemed to last forever.

He got to the point where he thought it was time to start holding his release back, but it neither built stronger, nor seemed to build at all, it just was, the beginning of a climax but never the middle.

And then just as he thought he might be nearing the beginning of the middle part, instead it seemed to start moving backwards. It seemed there would be no climax or release this time.

And somehow with all sensations so magnified, the disappointment that a climax might not follow the build up became a disappointment too disastrous to bare. His eyes began to sting and run. And he released his breath and concentrated on breathing evenly before a lump could form in his throat. Even so, his breath did catch a couple times.

"Circe," said Fleur, "What's wrong?"

"No point in going on," he said, "that was the end."

She shrugged, "If you're sure."

He nodded and stopped grinding.

Her expression flickered to disappointment, also. And then warmed to a smile, "still, that was very nice, thank you."

"And thank you," he said. And put his head down on her shoulder, and went back to panting.

"That was my longest ever, with a human," said Fleur.

"That wasn't my longest ever," said Harry, "But it was my most releases ever."

She nodded, "That doesn't surprise me."

"It was also my most relaxed ever," he said, "Thank you for …"

She closed her mouth and stared at him one eyebrow slowly raising.

"Thank you for taking your share of responsibility about it."

"Oh!" she said, and smiled, "that's what kind of needing an adult you meant."

"Yes," he said, "It was my best experience in months, if not ever."

She nodded, "Anything can be better with practice."

"Yes, well," he said, "but …"

"But what?"

"Maybe I'm judging it based on how relaxing it was, and it was the most relaxing ever. So I'm calling it best. And next time I might be looking for something different."

She smiled, "No one ever said you must be the only one on the estate giving therapy sex."

He stared at her, and then relaxed, "Thank you, I … I needed that, and you provided better than I knew how to hope to ask."

She smiled wider, "You're welcome. And thank you for trying so hard for my sister."

He nodded, "you're welcome."

Her arms wrapped around him again in a tight embrace, then she wrenched and kicked and flipped them over so she was on top.

There, and that was incontrovertible proof she was strong enough to fight back if she ever needed, and lighter than he expected even Luna to be.

Her arms relaxed but she did not remove them yet, "How soon should you go back to her?"

"I don't know," he said, "probably soon."

She nodded and climbed off of him and began dressing.

He copied her.

...-...

{End Chapter 1}

As usual, Brit-picking is welcome, for these chapters, French corrections are also requested.