You Cheat?
"Lion," she said.
"Bird," he said.
"Where did you go?"
"I went to the bathroom."
"And Fleur caught you?"
"Sort of."
"What did she say?"
"She made me tell her that you asked me to play 'veela in love' with you. And that I accepted."
"She didn't tell you to stop?"
"No, she asked if I wanted to stop, but she didn't tell us to stop."
"Hum," she said, "did you tell her that I'm invisible?"
"No," said Harry, "I told her we were eating enough, she assumed that meant you'd already gotten quiet enough at hunting."
Gabrielle smirked and stretched, then pulled the covers back, "get in already you must be … why are you dressed?"
Harry knelt without getting in, "Bird," he said.
She put the blanket down and stared at him, "What?"
"Fleur knows you very well, and suspected you wanted to play 'veela in love' with me."
Gabrielle snorted, "Nothing."
"She invited me here shortly after the day at the lake."
"That doesn't make sense, I didn't even want to until the day we started."
Harry stared at her, then he said, "She told me that you wanted to play, that you needed to play, and that I was the only one you'd been the least bit interested in for years."
Gabrielle narrowed her eyes, "The reason she defers to you, and … it took both her prowess and mine put together to buy your interest?"
Harry sighed, then swallowed, "It took her prowess and yours and your parents, to buy my interest and the interest of my godfather and of a girl who I imagine might become my betrothed."
"What does this even mean?"
"My family wishes to become allies with your family," said Harry, "Trading land or children is an old way of becoming allies, and signalling becoming allies."
She nodded, "that is human tradition."
Harry nodded, "another method, for a different kinds of allies, is doing business or trading favours, or going into battle together, which usually ended up meaning lots of chances to save each other from danger."
She nodded.
He took a deep breath.
"When Fleur said, 'please come and stay near enough to Gabrielle that she can try to ask you to teach her sex, it would be a very good help to her growing up,' I thought … I thought she meant 'I am a rich french noble, and I think you will be a prostitute, if I ask."
"You told her 'no'."
"I told her I'd need to ask my girlfriend."
"She'd expect that would mean 'no'?"
"She did think that, and she got … very upset. But when I asked my girlfriend, she knew enough about veela she said 'Fleur is not lying, it would be an important thing to do, she's not asking you to be a prostitute, she's asking you to be a doctor, if you can say yes, you should, if you cannot say yes, you should say 'no'. But make sure Fleur knows that you know that asking was a compliment and a beg, not a command and an insult.' When I asked my godfather, he said, 'do not let them pay you, it is too big a favour for money, I will let you go and help the girl understand how to grow up.' So I came here, and eventually you did ask, and I am here."
She frowned, "that is not nice to here."
Harry sighed.
"Then right before I came here, there was a fight, and my friend was hurt," said Harry.
She nodded.
"I thought my godfather might say, 'stay home until you can be happy again'. Instead he told Fleur I had promised, and must keep my promise, that keeping me moving would be the best way to not let me cry myself to death. That keeping me doing things that I had once expected to enjoy enough to promise to do them, would be a good set of things to keep me doing until I was happy enough to remember how to want to be happy."
She frowned and rubbed his knee, "I knew you were different than you were before, But here in the forest you've seemed happy."
He nodded, "Being around one person very different from her, and needing to work hard to survive in the forest, has made it easier to not think about her."
She nodded.
"When Fleur caught me and ordered me to talk, it reminded me of my friend again, it was hard in a way I didn't expect, I asked Fleur for things that I would have only asked my friend otherwise."
"What did you ask her for?"
"Pretend sex tutoring?"
"Sex tutoring is already pretend?"
Harry shrugged, "depends on which part you mean, yes."
She frowned, "you asked for her to give you sex the way your tutor friend used to give you sex."
"Yes."
"And she said yes?"
"She said yes," said Harry, "Though she demanded a sexual favour in return first."
Gabrielle nodded, "you could have asked me, instead."
"Maybe next time I will," said Harry, "But … I wasn't sure if you were ready for that way, every once in a while it feels like you aren't quite ready for what we already do."
Gabrielle shrugged and looked worried.
"But that feeling is coming less often, maybe next week you'll be ready for more kinds of sex."
She narrowed her eyes, then shrugged.
"Why tell me all that?"
"You saw I was wearing clothes," said Harry, "and recognised that I'd gone out to give Fleur a report on how well you are learning, and on whether I still think I can pretend to be a veela well enough for you to use me to keep teaching yourself. I told you the truth, yes, that is why I went out to talk to Fleur."
"If you'd gone out to have sex with her," said Gabrielle, "you wouldn't have worn clothes."
"It was a far enough walk," said Harry, "in the dark, in the forest, I would have still worn clothes."
She nodded, "Was the sex a favour to her, or her giving a favour to you?"
"It was a favour to me."
"Was it to help buy your attention for me?"
"No, it wasn't a buying kind of favour," said Harry, "it was a favour to me to help me remember how to be a good person, just as our practice here is to help both of us learn how to be cooperative adults."
Her eyes narrowed.
"And help me learn again what life is about, when it is not about only flying and school and helping my friends study and playing games, Because that is most of what I was doing, before my friend …" he looked away.
"So all this time, sometimes you look at me guilty, and I've wondered if you'd really give me back my broom if I asked."
"Have you felt trapped?" said Harry, "do you want your broom back?"
"I have felt trapped, a little," she said, and her eyebrow twitched, as if to frown soon, but not yet, "But are you trapped, for real?"
Harry shook his head, "I have my broom," he said, "I just don't have anywhere else to go."
She frowned, for real now, "where do you live?"
"With a friend in England, except she's not in England right now, or with my Godfather, but he told me to stay here for as long as I could help you, or you and Fleur could help me."
She nodded, "How long is that?"
"It was supposed to be two weeks to help you," he said, "no one will tell me how long I will need help, I think they think as soon as they tell me how long I will be sad, I'll concentrate on surviving that long, and put off learning how to be sad and then how not to be sad anymore until after that, or something stupid."
"Are you doing that anyway?"
"I'm not trying to, and I'm not trying not to, I'm just trying to help you, so that I don't mess up whatever they're trying to make me learn while I'm not paying attention. I'm not sure learning ever works like that," he shrugged and looked down again.
She grabbed his chin and pulled it gently up until their eyes met.
"You're more powerful than me?" she said.
Not counting claws and fire spells without a wand? But then I have claws too, when I want them. "Yes, I am."
"But you are my slave until Fleur takes you away from me?"
If that was her limited interpretation of 'being trapped' calculated to, "I suppose," he said.
"That's why you keep telling me to tell you what to do?"
"Not entirely," he said, "But yes, I cannot help if I don't know what activities would be helpful."
She nodded, "teaching us both how to cooperate."
"Yes."
She nodded again.
"My lion should be naked and in our bed," she said.
He stripped and hung his clothes, and climbed in behind her.
"My lion," she said, "should ask permission before visiting my sister."
"Humph," he said.
She shrugged, "and he should beg me for sex before he begs Fleur."
"Yes, Princess," he said.
"Promise?"
"I promise," he said, "For as long as we live under our tree."
"Good," she said.
...-...
The Progression
"Lion?"
"What Bird?"
"Are you allowed to give me my broom back?"
"Yes," he said, "my pouch is in the den, do you want it right now?"
"Yes," she said.
He went under the tree to get his pouch, she followed him.
He handed her broom to her, "Where are you going? Should I get dressed and get my broom out also?"
She stared at him, then put her broom in her pouch, "I'm not going anywhere yet," she said climbing out of the den, "I just wanted to know if my dream last night was real."
He followed her up and back to the sunlight where his experiments on clay tiles were drying, "What did you dream?"
"That you are trapped here," she said, "that you were keeping me trapped here because you want my company, not because I am trapped here and you were assigned to be my warden."
"I was assigned to … stay with you while Fleur was busy with her floo calls, you were the one who asked for it to last longer."
She smiled, "give me your broom."
He frowned and bit his lip, and pulled it out of his pouch, "It is faster than yours, I think," he said.
"Are you telling me to be careful with it?"
"Yes," he said, "I am also saying …" he sighed and stared at the door for several seconds before turning back to her, "A veela and a lion are more powerful than most everything in the forest, but accidents still happen. It was not safe for you to not have your broom in case something happened to me, Please forgive me for forgetting to give it back."
She blinked, "um?"
"And it would also be not safe for me not to have a broom, in case anything happened to you and I needed to get help for you."
"Oh," she said more appraising, more suspicious.
"My broom is faster," he said, "if we trade, we could still both get help for the other, in case of an accident."
"Then why offer to trade?"
"To make sure that you could get away from me, if I were to become mean or try to chase you or anything."
She frowned, "You are solving a different problem than I am solving, what problem are you solving?"
"I want you to have a broom so that you aren't afraid of being trapped here. I want you to have a faster broom than I have, so that you don't feel trapped by me. I want to have a broom so that you aren't afraid you might be hurt and I'd be unable to summon help."
She nodded, "I understand," she said, "give me your broom.'
He held it out, she took hold of it but he did not let go.
"Trade?" he said.
She shook her head, "Give."
"It was a gift from my godfather," he said.
"And?"
"It is the only toy he's ever bought me, it costs more than a year's tuition to Hogwarts, it's…"
"Lend it to me," she said, "For as long as you belong to me."
He nodded but didn't let go.
"It's dangerously fast," he said, "don't race it around under the canopy like your sister would, not until you take three or four days to get used to it."
She nodded.
"I'd still rather you didn't risk riding it without me on your broom following, and able to come to you if you crash it."
"I won't crash it," she said, and put it into her pouch.
His eyes followed it until it was out of sight, then he shivered and met her gaze.
"Now Lion," she said, "You are the slave veela and I am the owner, oui?"
His face went blank and wooden.
She stalked forward and grabbed his arm, pulled him a half step forward and down toward her level. Her grip somehow just loose enough to drag the hair much more than the skin.
"Ow," he said.
"Say, 'Oui,' Lion," she said.
He shook his head very very gently.
She narrowed her eyes and sprouted talons.
"Prince Lion is your pet," said Harry, "Not your thrall."
"Property is property," said Gabrielle.
"A pet is not property," said Harry, "A pet is pretend family made out of something that isn't what you are, it helps take care of you and your territory because it has learned that you wish to help take care of it and its territory."
She glared, "My lion will sit," she said and took a step forward.
Harry shifted into lion form and lay down.
"Mon lion!" She gasped, then smiled, stepped forward and began rubbing his forehead.
He knew the moment she tried to search for scruff instead of mere permission to touch.
By that time he'd finally given in to the urge to let her keep him for a slave for a day or two in retaliation of letting her fear to ask for her broom back. He'd also found his lion instincts recognise her as a kitten trying to learn her way. So instead of attacking in retaliation to the chemical warfare her touches would start in his blood, he tucked his paws under and put down his chin. When the sun was up, it was easy to be a daddy lion with nothing to do but watch the kittens play and wrestle.
She crouched and moved around to his side and kept petting. Then paused and tilted her head to the side and surveyed him, "Oh cher! Notre tanière n'est pas assez grande," she muttered.
He turned his head to look at her.
She watched him, he watched her.
She stepped sideways. He tracked her.
She stepped sideways again, over his bulk this time.
He tracked her again.
She sat down on his back.
He turned away and put his head down again.
She lay forward, so that she could again run her fingers along the braids that still lingered in his mane.
"It is possible for veela-birds to have sex with humans," she said, "Is it possible for human-veela to have sex with lions?"
He growled and shook his head.
"Oh, well," she said, "But I can do this," she leaned farther forward to grasp his collar bones through his mane, then dragged herself forward, and back along his spine.
He stopped growling and lay still. Wanting to lay his ears back because Nim often did, not because he had any reason to think it would change anything.
But Nim laid her ears back to make them less tempting targets for her mounting male to chew on, when what he really wanted was her scruff.
And what he really wanted was for her to make up her mind, and grab his scruff and mount him properly, which she really wasn't large enough to do, and had the wrong equipment besides. Or cast a spell that he just knew must have been covered in the companion book to Millicent Bulstrode's animal to human transfiguration manual.
Or he could make rubber equipment for her, It wasn't like he hadn't watched Hermione and Nim playing often enough. And Nim and Hermione had insisted on making a thorough study of his private bits, so he knew the exact size to match, even if he would leave the spines off.
He waited until she was done and resting, then changed human again and transfigured a harness and leash that should shake and stimulate his scruff the way he wanted.
Then he rolled her off him. She complained about the sunlight but didn't fight him. He conjured a strap-on for her.
"If you're going to mount a lion," he said, "you might want something this shape."
She frowned at him and at it. "What is it?"
"To pretend to be a boy," he said.
"I can be owner without being a boy," she said.
"You can," he agreed, "But lions expect …" he frowned. "Lions are like most things on four legs, they aren't very creative about playing sex. They mostly stay right-side-up. Just crouch with the father in back of the mother."
She nodded, "But you're telling me be the father?"
He frowned, "feel how strong this rubber is," he said.
She felt, then took it from him finally and manipulated it some.
"What about it?"
"If I turn back into a lion, and roll on my back, promise me that you won't undress and climb onto me, the way you did our first night. Instead feel carefully and find the spines, and conjure a sleeve or something to slide around me to keep the spines in, conjure it out of a material like this," he pointed to the strap on, "you don't want them stuck to the inside of you."
She frowned.
"Usually I tell people no about sex with me as a lion, but … you're … you're not most people, if that's what you want, you may try. But I warned you about the spines first."
She nodded, "turn back and let me look."
He shifted back.
She pushed him to roll over, and made short work of figuring out how to stimulate him into extending. She examined his sex organ critically for a dozen seconds, or so, including running her finger along one row of spines.
The way she touched them, the sensation felt significantly more like running his lion tongue over something than anything Nim or Hermione had done. They'd told him the spines were like his tongue barbs, but the idea hadn't really viscerally seemed real. Now he understood.
She then leaned back and patted his flank, "you can turn back now," she said, "you're way too big."
He shifted back.
They stared at each other.
"Where do your clothes come from and go?"
He shrugged, "I'm not sure, there are lots of theories, and they seem to contradict."
She smiled, "What's your favourite?"
"That they don't go anywhere, they stay on my human shape, just like everything else about my human shape, except maybe somehow my blood."
"Hmm, ok."
She crossed her arms, "Why are you dressed?"
That was a clear signal what time it could be. He looked around. A break and maybe a short siesta wouldn't hurt the day's progress appreciably, "Because around here the trees are too tall for me to hang my clothes on?"
She rolled her eyes, and nodded toward the den, he led the way. When they were out of the sun he began to strip. This time he removed it all without help, He turned back to look at her. She was holding the harness and leash in obvious disdain. She caught him looking.
"Why this?" she said.
"Lions like having their neck rubbed," he said, "you seemed too short to rub my neck and play with my bottom at the same time. I made that for you to put on me to play with both ends at once. It is not for riding me. Lions don't have the strength in the right parts of their backs for riding."
"You didn't mind me climbing on you?"
"I didn't mind it while I was laying down," he replied, "I could not get up and walk around like that."
"Oh."
He crossed to her and knelt, she put the harness aside and let him help undress her.
"Stay human," she said, "But … pretend we are lions."
"Alright," he said, and got behind her.
She looked over her shoulder at him, with an expression that was so interested that he could not help expanding again. (And very possibly she'd watched cats mate before.)
He conjured lasere imbued lubricant everywhere he thought she might need it, and slid inside, When he could reach he grasped her ear in his teeth and began thrusting.
She twisted her head back and forth until her ear was free, he grabbed a big lock of her hair and held that instead.
She tried to yank away, then went still. He rubbed until he climaxed. Then he held still.
"Should I stop there like a cat," he said, "Or shall I roll over and give you a turn like a human."
She giggled, and tried to pull away again.
He let her go.
She turned and straddled his lap without waiting for him to lay back.
"Cat's really stop so soon?"
"The boy cats often do," he said, "But only to let the girl cats give turns to all their boyfriends, If there's no other boyfriends around, they'll play for longer."
"Oh, hmm," she said, "I'm not a cat, and you're my only boyfriend."
"That's fine," he said, "you may play as long as you want."
She smiled.
"Though I don't know how long I'll manage to stay big."
"Hmm," she said, "You make a very interesting slave, but maybe a very boring pretend cat."
"I'm not a slave," he said.
She closed her eyes and lay her head on his shoulder, "you make an alright pretend free veela, I wanted to try you as a slave veela."
"I don't think I'd be very good at it," he said.
"You'd be perfect at it," she said, "you already do everything I say, you'd just have to say what you want as suggestions instead of orders. And you already usually do that."
Alright … that actually calculated out to be a compliment to how careful he'd been trying to not let his greater age and size confuse her status-alertness instincts so far that she assumed he was in control of her, rather than trying to be in cooperation with her.
Harry smiled.
...-...
Myth
"Gabrielle?" sighed Harry, and turned her cage of prey right way up. Most of them were still stunned, so it didn't matter, but a few had escaped.
Gabrielle finished what she was doing and summoned the charred carcass to her hand. "What?" she said, "And what made you call me 'Gabrielle' instead of 'Bird'?"
"Your single-minded determination to exterminate all the magpies just lost you 4 other birds, and two squirrels, it would have been more if I hadn't turned the cage back over and closed it."
Gabrielle shrugged.
"I don't understand," and he mimicked and exaggerated her shrug back at her, "Why don't you like magpies?"
"They are rebellious, it is annoying."
"Rebellious of what?"
"My prowess."
Harry blinked, "What?"
She rolled her eyes, "Who is the top bird?"
"Uhh, I have no idea, before I met any magical birds I think I would have said eagles."
Gabrielle nodded, "eagle is the king of the day sky, owl is king of the night, swan is king of the ducks and geese, but the crows had no king and didn't want one." She continued in French that Harry could barely follow, "but they just took what they wanted and pursued what they wanted, with only a little lipservice and bowing to whoever was in charge of their area. But the magpies were greedy and took more than politeness, and no matter how many times they were scolded, they remained greedy, so the eagle, owl, and swan met and conferred with each other and with their gods: Quetzalcōātzin, Mictlāntēcutli, and Tlāloc. So the gods summoned the oldest and wisest crows and ravens to appear before them and choose from among themselves who should be king, after much discussion and debate an ancient raven, though still strong from healthy living and vigorous exercise was elected a spokesperson, he answered the gods, 'The corvids are a clever but unruly people, powerful and competitive, always demanding proofs, what you offer is not a blessing, but a curse. Please choose someone else.'
"So, the gods chased the ravens out, and said, if the corvids will not rule themselves, we must appoint someone else.
" 'They must be beautiful,' said Tlāloc, 'or the corvids will not follow them,'
" 'They must be powerful,' said Mictlāntēcutli, 'or they will not be able to rule a people so competitive as the corvids,'
" 'They must be clever,' said Quetzalcōātzin, 'in the same way that corvids are clever, or they will not understand their people and their people will not understand them.'
"So the three prepared the geas into a necklace and a breastplate, carefully crafted from white flint, beautiful jade, and the feathers and skulls of every kind of corvid, then they cast lots for who's responsibility it would be to bestow them on two mortals, and Quetzalcoatl won twice. So Quetzalcoatl considered which of his disciples best suited the blessing of being king and queen of all corvids.
"Among his temples of learning, there was a temple where the priests tried to make a potion capable of granting the power to fly. These often had killed people long before their wings even sprouted, though a few had done nothing at all. It is for this reason that they conducted most of their experiments on war captives. Two captives caught his attention, not only were they children of magi, but they were humble and pious, albeit for his brother Xolotl, god of fire and lightning, also of misfortunes whether they end in death or in deformity. And so, when their time came to test themselves against the potion, Quetzalcoatl stepped in, to keep them alive and bless them with the cursed jewellery. And so Ajawo and Natituláakal lived, and soared, and became the parents of all Veela, and the Veela are cursed with the will and the power to rule over all corvids. And while most of our subjects know their place and steer clear of trouble, magpies always cause trouble."
Ok, wow. There's a lot to unpack there, and I'm sure I didn't understand half the nuance.
Gabrielle turned and stared at him, "You haven't heard it before?"
Harry shook his head, "Is there another version … from the humans point of view instead of from the point of view of the birds and the gods?"
She smirked, "it starts with the priests making potions, and ends with Quetzalcoatl stepping in and keeping two of his favourite slaves from dying, then commanding that the experiments have gone on for much too long and for the priests to find something more helpful to the kingdom to be doing with the temple's resources. It is boring, and does not explain how the prowess of Veela makes us naturally the top of the hierarchy of corvids, and with the ability to control Xolotl's fire. When the blessing supposedly comes from a god of wind and eagles."
"Oh," said Harry.
"Anyway," said Gabrielle, "I think full veela in bird form look more like swans or loons than like ravens, but I'm given to understand that in our natural jungle there are other much more colourful kinds of corvids."
Harry smiled, "What do full veela look like?"
She frowned at him, "I just described our bird form, our monkey form is divine, and it doesn't seem to matter what kind of primate is interviewed."
"What?"
"Primates and corvids alike bow before us, or run away and return with gifts of food or shiny rocks in exchange for their lives, except magpies ruff up their necks and dare us to attack, and humans think that flowers also should be sufficient tribute, and that their gifts are to buy their way into our beds, instead of merely the right to remain alive in our presence." She rolled her eyes, "Except you. I'm never sure if your weirdness is that you cannot see our prowess, or if you are one of us, with prowess of your own and it is I who cannot see it."
Harry shrugged. "My personal magic seems to be for hiding things," he mused, "maybe this is one of them."
Gabrielle smiled, "perhaps."
Her eyes flicked up to where her circlet should be, but it was not there.
She summoned it from where it had fallen in her earlier scramble and tantrum of fireballs to destroy the magpie that had annoyed her today. She put it on and sat straighter, and seemed extra proud of herself.
Though it was not clear if she was proud of wearing a crown, or of solving the problem of finding it again after losing it, given that it was invisible to her, or of something else.
Fleur had mentioned something about the veela version of cooperation involved partners letting each other wear their prowess, not that Harry understood what that meant. If wearing trinkets that contained or emitted the magical signature almost counted …
"What do the other animals get in return?" said Harry.
"Huh?" said Gabrielle.
"The other birds and monkeys that worship or tribute to a veela, what do they actually get in return?"
Gabrielle shrugged, "protection, help with defending the territory."
"Huh?"
"Do you know how much better veela are at hunting than corvids are? Corvids are scavengers, I've only been hunting small things because my parents don't like me hunting the big things, and I don't want to be leaving them around to attract another following of crows, since we'd be leaving in a few more days. Also, because you said you'd prefer not mammals."
Harry shrugged.
"I've been given the impression that monkeys in the jungles where veela belong, spend about a third of their waking time defending their boarders from other monkey troops or from jaguars. Well, foreign monkeys are easy to kill when they're busy bowing down to offer tribute. And with enough warning, I could take down a jaguar without my wand, a full veela with less warning could turn bird and fly up into the branches, then rain down fireballs until the jaguar died or ran away." She shrugged, "a defended territory is a more peaceful territory, the monkeys prosper from the peace, and the birds prosper from having a bigger hunter in the area to scavenge from."
"Sounds like the justification for aristocracy everywhere."
"I suppose," said Gabrielle, turning away and staring into the treetops, "there might be lazy veela, content to live off the tribute brought to them by their monkeys and birds, but … I can't imagine that working for long, I'd get hungry, and then I suppose I could eat all my subjects, easy to pick them off when they were busy bowing and scraping, or when they thought I was appeased and returned to their normal routines. But then I'd have neither company nor warning what was happening in my jungle. It is not the kind of territory I'd like to live in. It is already annoying that there are no little monkeys here."
"Oh," said Harry, "You make it sound like you don't need any of the tribute that they might bring."
"I don't."
"Then why accept tribute?"
Gabrielle shrugged, "it's their instincts, better to accept it, and let the bond form, than to fight it. Anyway, maybe I just pile it up and give it to orphan chicks when I find some of those."
Harry gave a sideways glance at their cages full of drowsy birds.
"Non-corvids don't count," she said.
"What?"
"No prowess."
"Oh," said Harry, "Wait a second, can you talk to crows and things?"
"Talking is a human thing, prowess is enough to communicate most of the time."
"Can you understand crows and things?"
"It takes a couple weeks to learn the local dialect of each new species in an area. But yeah."
"Oh, ok."
"Why?"
"I'm a parselmouth," said Harry, "magical ability to speak to and understand snakes. Locale doesn't seem to matter, though there does seem to be a bit of dialect difference between species sometimes."
She rolled her eyes, "Yeah, that sounds like cheating."
Harry snickered, "And yours isn't?"
She smiled, "I can't help what I inherited."
Harry nodded, "fair enough, neither can I."
She smiled wider and grabbed his hand, then the cage, "We have enough for today, let's go home."
.
...-...
Regarding Rain
They woke to the rushing hiss of many raindrops on the leaves outside and the thrumming echo of raindrops hitting their tree's limbs and trunk.
Harry sighed.
"Don't worry, Lion," said Gabrielle, "all the entrances are thatched."
"I know," said Harry, "I just don't like rain."
"Why not?"
"I don't like being cold, or wet, or trapped outside."
She hugged him tighter, "That is why we are not outside," she said, "And the only thing trapping you is my arms."
Harry sighed again and lay still.
After several minutes they sat up and lit their wands.
All the openings were thatched, but that did very little to dissuade the rainwater already seeping down the tree bark. Most of it was following one root or another to the wall and out of sight, but one big root had a bend that took it back up again, and the water would not seep back uphill and was dripping off onto their clothes.
The tap root also conducted its water straight down into the floor.
"Umbrella?" said Harry, "for us and our belt pouches? Everything else is clothes and we can rinse them off and dry them in the morning."
"Canopy?" said Gabrielle.
"Sure," said Harry.
And so they did.
Just as they finished, the ground became saturated enough that the water was no longer disappearing into the ground as fast as it was seeping in, and began to pool.
"Lion, You must be very tired," said Gabrielle.
"What?"
"You don't usually get so angry at things," said Gabrielle.
"I'm not angry," said Harry.
"Disappointed?"
Harry nodded, "I should have thought of this, I should have … I don't know … put legs under the bed."
"Legs under the bed are silly," said Gabrielle.
"It would make that problem significantly less of an issue," Harry pointed at the growing puddle, though it didn't seem to be growing as fast now. Perhaps it had reached equilibrium. Or perhaps it was being wicked up into their conjured bedding as fast as it was seeping into their den.
Gabrielle shrugged, then hit the puddle with a vanishing spell. Removing over half of it.
"Well?" she said.
"Better, but not enough to last the rest of the night," he said, "I think we still need legs or something to raise the bed up out of the water."
She agreed to this plan and they implemented it. They had to lower the canopy somewhat to make it all fit. But in less than an hour they were again huddled in their bed. They and the bed were all damper than they liked, but they weren't actively being dripped on from above, nor was their bedding wicking moisture up from below. so that was good.
In the morning Harry realised that Gabrielle had spent the rest of the night with her foot trailing out of the bed, so that cold toes would wake her and alert her that the puddle had again gotten big enough to vanish.
Gabrielle refused to get dressed until all her clothes had been rinsed and dried, and for some reason the drying charm was not an acceptable method.
Harry suspected she just wanted to hunt naked, and the wet or muddy everything was just an excuse.
He didn't complain about the view, but he did keep his wand and belt pouch handy in case first aid became necessary. She did scrape up her knee and palms, but that was par for hunting anyway.
About half way through their hunt he remembered the solution to their problem, and began focus on how to implement it.
"You're not hunting," said Gabrielle, "we just walked past your favourite ferns, and you didn't take any fiddle-heads to munch."
"Sorry," said Harry, "I'm thinking about drains."
"I think I don't know that metaphor," said Gabrielle.
"I didn't mean a metaphor," said Harry, "I'm thinking about how I want to add a drain under our den, to let the water out."
"I'm not sure we want to," said Gabrielle, "all the dirt that isn't touching tree roots any more is less water they can suck up, it might be impolite to take away even more water than that.
"Hmm, alright," said Harry, "So maybe not a 'drain everything' drain, just a drain to 'drain water deeper than an inch'."
"Two inches," agreed Gabrielle, "I like wading, just … not in my belt pouch."
Harry imagined semi-infinite amounts of water draining into his belt pouch until it failed and exploded, flooding everything. He was fairly sure that wasn't the way natural moke-skin worked, but he was also fairly sure neither of them had bought natural moke-skin when imitating it by adding anti-theft charms and undetectable extensions only cost about a sickle a piece.
And last night he'd only been alert enough to want to protect his books, and keepsakes, not to consider the ramifications of a failing undetectable extension charm.
"Agreed," he said fervently, "From now on, our belt pouches get hung inside the canopy."
.
After eating Gabrielle went through everything in the den with drying charms.
Harry designed drainpipes and figured out how to fire them, and then how to install them.
Gabrielle's contribution to that project were to suggest screens at top and bottom to make sure no creatures crawled up into the den, and no belongings got washed down them.
Also she recommended where to burrow up from low on their hillside into the bottom of their den.
The angle seemed off until he got back inside and saw that she'd started excavating another fifteen inches down. Which should make enough room for the canopy to be back at the height they'd originally hoped to place it.
He helped her move tiles, finish that excavation, and place the tiles back.
They were a much more seamless team at excavations now. Adding 'tile removal and re-install' instead of making everything slower and more irritating, added an ambience of dance to their rhythms.
By evening they'd deepened their floor all the way across and the first drain was installed. And Harry had enough good clay to supply the rest of the tiles they'd needed. And they both were … trying to move in syncrony, even when there was no need.
Is this the thing I'm supposed to be watching for? Thought Harry, But he didn't want to focus on it to see if it matched descriptions he was becoming less certain he'd ever understood properly, and just wanted to watch Gabrielle, in case they could help each other.
He wondered if this was how Katie Belle, Angela Johnson, and Alicia Spinnet felt every game and practice.
Except so far as he knew they took normal showers after practice, instead of rinsing each other clean with conjured water.
"I know we just got clean," said Gabrielle as they trudged up the hill, "And I know we worked hard all day. But I really don't want working to be over yet."
"What?" said Harry.
"I don't want working together to be over yet," said Gabrielle.
"You felt it too," said Harry.
"Yeah," said Gabrielle, "what is that?"
"Teamwork," said Harry, "or 'Flow'. Sometimes working together is just like that."
"I liked it," hummed Gabrielle.
"I liked it too," said Harry, "I think sex is supposed to be best like that."
She stopped and caught his wrist, her eyes were huge, "Sex like that would be awesome, can we try it?"
"I … I think we'd better," said Harry.
She gave him an odd look, then she smiled huge, "I think you should be on top to start."
"Are you sure?"
She shrugged, "It's past time for it to be your turn for that."
"Alright," he said.
"You'll have to show me what to do from the bottom. I know when I'm on top, you hold my hips and help me go the right speed, is there more?"
"Yes," said Harry, "there's also helping me thrust at the angles you like, some angles are better than others."
.
When they were in their den and everything was stowed where it belonged, they settled on the bed and Gabrielle immediately lay on her back and drew him toward her.
He knelt between her knees and gazed at her, "Where should I start?" he said.
"I don't understand," she said, "the lubricant charm and then getting in?"
He ran his hand along her hip, one way, and then the other, he cast the lubricant charm, not only on her bottom, but all across her belly and chest.
She shot him a disgusted look, but when he ran his fingers up to her breasts and back down to her other hip, her expression changed to intrigued.
"Get in me first," she said, "Then do all that."
He almost baulked, but Fleur's preferred order had seemed to be similar. He did as she suggested.
She grasped his hips and pulled him in tight, and twitched several times, then her eyes opened again, flashing her interest, "Now try the rub-me-everywhere thing," she said.
He rubbed her breasts and shoulders, belly and thighs, he licked her hairline and temples which he already knew she liked, and her ears which she didn't like as much but only because it tickled. While he rubbed and massaged, she intermittently dragged his hips this way or that way, or twitched or tightened or loosened the muscles in her belly and groin.
When he couldn't stand it any more he'd put his hands to her sides and thrust out and in again several strokes.
"Oh!" she said, "Oh, now I see you."
"What?" he said.
"You really like sex," she said, "I didn't see it before, you … like Pappa, you eat sex to enjoy it all, the way papa eats food," she kissed her fingers and waved them in the air.
"A connoisseur of sex?" said Harry, "perhaps."
She nodded, "I see you now, Lion, not just eating the favourite food all the time, eating all the food, all the ways, and insisting on understanding and enjoying them as much as possible anyway."
He smiled, "I'm not sure I'm all that much of a connoisseur," said Harry, "I just enjoy my part, and hope the be as enjoyable as I can."
Her eyebrows popped even higher, "You want to be the connoisseur's food?"
Harry grinned, "Maybe that."
"Then … then that is what you kept lecturing me about … about 'not talking enough,' I wasn't being connoisseur enough?"
"Yes, mostly," said Harry.
She looked hurt, but also contrite.
Harry clenched his eyes shut while he put his thought into words, "Gabrielle," he said, "you don't have to be a 'connoisseur' for me if you don't want to, I just didn't want you to miss out on anything so wonderful."
"Well, of course, you wouldn't," she said. She smiled her friendship, then returned her hands to his hips, "Move more often."
"Right," he said, and switched to thrusting.
After a little while she took his wrists one at a time and re-positioned his hands onto her rib cage.
He asked if she'd prefer on her breasts. She said "no, just below them, so that they stretch, when you pull, instead of squish when you push."
"Sure, we can try that," he agreed.
"I know humans cannot help being so heavy," she said.
"I'm below average weight for a human," he said.
She rolled her eyes and adjusted her grip on his hips.
She climaxed twice before she tried to find a way to put his hands on her stomach, but she didn't have the muscle strength for that not to hurt. But Harry understood that she wanted rubbing, and leaned on one hand beside her shoulder and rubbed with the other. She liked that, but then asked for his rubbing pattern to include both her breasts and also her thighs, which was impossible, but if he put his chest down to hers, and intermittently wrapped his thighs around the outside of hers instead of only supporting himself from the inside.
She clammed up, but from the way she nodded vigorously and her eyes flashed, he knew he'd found something she liked.
.
After a significantly stronger climax, that left her with her arms tossed above her head, she panted for a while, then gasped out, "That was very good, I think it is your turn to close your eyes."
"What?" he said.
"Close your eyes," she said, "stop watching me, and watch yourself."
His turn to climax in other words. Or at least his turn to push close to the edge.
"Oh, Alright," he said, "Thank you."
For half a minute he did keep his eyes closed, but he found he couldn't stay that way. He wasn't sure if it was Nim's conditioning, or the continued desire to prolong the feeling of teamwork. But he opened his eyes again.
They watched each other, and they became aware that they were watching each other.
Gabrielle smiled, and began an exploration of petting his hips.
Which was wonderful, and seemed to both bring him closer to climax, yet spread his attention across more of his skin, which somehow held farther at bay the climax itself.
But even the best things must come to an end. Some threshold was reached, and her gaze turned inward for another climax of her own, and with her internal spasms, his own focus also shrank inward to the act itself, and his own climax took hold and would not be put off any longer.
By that time her gaze was again upon him. She smiled camaraderie when he emptied himself. She smiled empathy to watch him panting after.
Then she slid her hands up his sides to his cheeks and pulled him close so she could lick the sweat from his chin and temples the way she always did.
.
Late the next morning, after a very successful gathering trip, Harry was working on another batch of tiles when it again began to rain.
He quickly conjured tarps over his work in progress, then glared at Gabrielle. Not that he was angry at her, just that he was frustrated, and wanted her to witness it.
She was not looking at him, she was looking up at the tree tops blowing in the wind.
Of course. He tried to look at them with her eyes, but could not imagine what she was seeing. He could not even see.
He took off his glasses, and used the charm Hermione had found to fix that problem. He looked again. He still didn't know what fascinated her so much about it all.
"Bird?" he said.
She gave a start and turned to look at him.
"Lion?" she said.
"Do you want to go inside."
She shook her head, "Do you want to go flying?"
"What?" he said.
"Maybe I cannot perch in tree tops like a bird, but I can fly close over them."
"It's raining," he said.
She grinned.
"You want to get cold?" he said.
"It's not a cold rain," she said, "It's a warm rain."
He concentrated, she was right, he looked at her in wonder, "What does that mean?"
She shrugged, "More of last year's snails will wake up, we can fly and get soaked and anything we want without getting cold."
"What do 'we want'?" he said.
"Let's go flying," she said and shrugged, "mud sliding is best saved for right after it stops," she shrugged again, "Anyway, I was never a fan of mud sliding."
"Oh," said Harry, "alright."
.
It was in fact, not nearly as uncomfortable as he expected to be flying in the rain. It was in fact very diverting to be flying close over the tree tops, when they sparkled and swayed and whipped a few feet below.
And then the sun came out and the sparkle increased a hundred fold. Harry turned to Gabrielle, intent to say something, but it died on his lips. Gabrielle had shielded her eyes and looked skyward turning this way and that.
What was she looking for?
"Lion," she said without looking at him, "Let's go this way."
Harry followed, "What are we looking for, Bird?"
"Chasing the sun-rain," she said.
"What is sun-rain, and why are we chasing it?"
"Rainbows," she said.
He knew enough about rainbows from muggle primary school to figure out she meant 'sun showers.'
But apparently for a witch mounted on a broom, they were less of a random event that happened sometimes, and more of a feature that followed or led a rain-cloud, depending on the angle of the sun and the direction of the wind.
He followed her, and for almost forty-five minutes they flew loops and curlicues, just above the reach of the swinging treetops, skirting the shadows of the clouds, with fully circular rainbows hovering just below them, seeming to cushion them from the trees.
He knew the refraction geometry of why and how rainbows formed. But that didn't detract at all from how beautiful they were, the knowledge only made it easier to pick flight orientations that would let them observe the rainbows to best effect.
The glee of Gabrielle's giggles and chortles was also intoxicating and infectious.
But that too came to an end, when their rain cloud passed out above farmland and they had to stop at the forest edge, and turned back toward the Delacour property, and their own den.
"Bird?" said Harry.
"Oui?"
"Thank you for teaching me about flying in the rain, and chasing sun-showers and rainbows."
"You're welcome," she said, "Thank you for flying with me."
"You're welcome," he said.
"Is it possible to have sex on brooms?" she said.
"Not that I know of," said Harry.
She pouted.
"But there is that wide branch about four trees down hill from ours, that looks big enough to put a bed in. Or at least half a recliner."
"Hmm," she said, "Let's try that!"
"OK.'
.
Needless to say, Harry did not get any more tiles baked that day.
...-...
The dance expands
A branch cracked under Harry's foot.
"Shh," hissed Gabrielle, then raised her wand at the sound of two pairs of fluttering wings, "Stupefy, Stupefy."
Harry wasn't even looking at her, but was already turning to point in the same direction she had when he heard her whispered incantations and felt the tracks her magic carved in the air. "Accio, Accio." He whispered back. There was a technique to summoning two things at once, either you had to maintain both spells, or you had to direct the first one sufficiently well that the ballistic trajectory would put the target where you wanted anyway after you released the spell, to cast the second. Harry had been practising with both options.
Outside his line of sight, the form that his magic was hiding, smiled, and a hand outstretched to catch one of the birds.
Harry caught the other.
"We're getting better at this," did not even need to be said.
Both our aims have improved a lot, and my spell-casting is probably half as wasteful as it had been. Hers had needed much more work, and shown that much more improvement. Also now she catches falling birds like an professional chaser twice her age.
For a few seconds more he kept scanning the branches above for another target.
When the stunned bird in his hand was replaced by a disembowelled carcass he looked down, and turned to face his hunting partner in time to watch her peal the other bird open with her strange inhuman teeth.
When all the entrails had fallen out or been yanked out and thrown away, she raised an eyebrow at him, then began devouring the meat in earnest.
He nodded and looked down at the bird in his hands. He gave it a perfunctory examination then put his wand away and began pealing back the skin his own way. (with his fingers)
She'd scolded him several times at first for being picky with his food, but he really didn't like the feeling of feathers in his mouth, and didn't mind the extra time his method took to get his food put away.
And this time she hadn't even gotten all the entrails out of his. The heart was still hanging by a thread, still pumping the blood out and away.
The body was obviously irreparably destroyed, but it was stunned and didn't know it was dead yet.
It was a weird and creepy thought.
He'd tried to raise it once, earlier. Gabrielle had said all food had to be alive to be edible, or at least alive directly before cooking to be edible. Harry wasn't sure that was true, but if one took 'cooking' to include all of the various kinds of preparation that food might need to undergo, (from threshing and grinding grain, not just the baking,) or (from cleaning and butchering the meat, not just the grilling) then it managed to be a tautology.
The first bite Harry took was the heart, it felt like a mercy, though intellectually he knew the bird had been stunned from start to finish and had felt nothing.
Only plants can survive without eating living things, and I am not a plant, therefore I am a horrible monster by necessity, and should get over myself.
It was another alien thought he'd needed to come to terms with out here in … the real world.
Someday I'm going to find a dairy farmer and try to find a polite way to ask them a lot of philosophical questions. Because I'm stupidly allergic to not knowing things, and I can no longer separate Hedwig and Nim's ability to hunt from my own. Or maybe interviewing a butcher would be better.
"Lion," said Gabrielle.
Harry turned to her and smiled.
"What are we doing after this?"
"I was contemplating making wooden furniture instead of conjured metal," said Harry, "But I'm not sure if there's any point, what would you like to do after this?"
She looked at the somewhat dismantled carcass in his hand, and then the other in her own hands.
We're both much less messy eaters now too. Practice.
"I had a weird idea," she said.
Can't be weirder than mine, "Oh, what's that?"
"I … kind of wish, Fleur was here," said Gabrielle, then frowned.
"Because she knows the things you want to teach me?"
"No," she said, "It's just a weird idea."
"What would you want to do, if she was here?"
She frowned, "Hunt for her … maybe for Mum and Papa too."
Harry nodded.
"Or … maybe hunt with them."
Harry nodded.
"What does that look mean?"
Harry smiled, "It means I know that now you are a grown up enough veela you're allowed to call yourself a citizen if you want. I'm just trying to figure if bringing food to Fleur is the best way to prove it to her."
She wrinkled her nose, "What does citizen even mean?"
"Technically it means someone who lives in a city. But philosophically it means, someone who understands that a city is just a big cooperation dance, and is willing to dance along."
She closed her eyes, then frowned thoughtfully anyway.
After a moment she opened them again and turned to face mildly south but mostly east.
"est une danse de coopération," she said, "et est prêt à danser."
Then she shook her head, "I don't think I can do that."
Harry opened his mouth.
"Yet." She said.
Harry sighed.
"Mais une famille est aussi une danse de coopération?"
But a family is also a dance of cooperation.
"Oui, exactement!" said Harry.
She sniffed, "Lion?"
"Yeah?"
"Ramène-moi à la maison pour voir maman."
"Of course," said Harry, "of course."
She hugged him very hard.
"Our brooms are back in our den."
"Oui," she sighed but still took a long time to let go.
When she did he crouched to be on her eye level.
"Do we want to wash our clothes and ourselves first?"
She looked away into the east by south east again, then sighed and nodded.
So much for her not being able to orient well enough to walk home.
So they washed and returned to their den and unpacked and repacked their things, and released the animals that they probably would not eat and straightened things up the way they might wish to find them if they were to ever return.
Gabrielle raised her wand and pointed at the bed, then paused.
"Lion?" she said.
"Bird?" he said.
She grasped his wrist and met his eyes, "I am in an awful rush to go home to see Maman, but …"
"But what?"
"When we are there … they will expect you to sleep in your own room."
"Hmm?"
"Then they will … send you home, yes?"
"Soon," said Harry, "I don't know how soon."
She nodded, "Let us say goodbye to our bed together one more time, before we let them separate us."
"Gladly," said Harry.
Gabrielle laughed.
.
"Lion," she pushed him away and when he paused she dragged herself out from under him.
"What?" he smiled.
"Is sex always this different for … citizens?"
"I don't think so," said Harry, "Not that I've ever heard of."
She summoned their cups and conjured water. "Then why?"
Harry shrugged and thanked her for the offering.
"Trees don't get this big," she said, "and sex doesn't last all morning and half the afternoon. Why can we? Because I'm not done yet and neither are you, but I am thirsty. Was thirsty."
"I think it is 'goodbye sex' that is different?" he said.
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know. But there are legends about soldiers about to go into battle, and sailors about to go to sea, and other things like that." He put his cup aside.
She copied him and scooted back to her previous position. Then smirked up at him, "Say goodbye to me again, My Lion, Say goodbye to me again."
Harry smiled and complied.
.
Gabrielle yawned and climbed off him and stretched.
"Are you satisfied?" said Harry.
She stretched again, "I think … yes. And it is time to wash again. And see my parents. Are you satisfied Harry?"
"I am," said Harry.
They unconjured the bed and other furniture. They went down to the stream for one more bath before their flight home.
"I think I've heard that 'Hello sex' can sometimes also be longer than usual," said Harry, "But I have no idea what kind of circumstances are required for that to happen."
"Hmm," shrugged Gabrielle, "Maybe someday we will test that. Here's your broom."
It was actually her broom, but Harry didn't mind the trade for the flight back. And if she wanted five minutes alone with her parents before he could arrive, that was fine also.
.
"I was thinking," said Gabrielle, "that they might not want us to bring back birds to feed them, so I didn't."
"Right," said Harry.
"What do you think they'd want instead?"
"I'm OK at English cooking, if you want to teach me some French cooking I'd be glad to help," said Harry.
She snorted, "I don't know very much kitchen cooking at all, Mum and Fleur taught me to cook with fireballs almost as soon as I could make them, but that is different."
"Oui."
"More to the point, then, you can always ask what kind of help they'd like, giving people what they want or need before they tell you is for showing off, most of the time we just ask what people want help with, then answer whether or not that is something we know how to do, or have the money or time to be able to help them with."
"Yes, well," she said.
.
"I had a weird idea," said Gabrielle as they washed dishes together.
"Oh?"
"I was thinking about waiting until everyone is asleep, then sneaking into your room," said Gabrielle.
"Hmm," said Harry.
"Would that bother you?" said Gabrielle.
Harry smiled and paused to look at her.
"Will you at least promise not to yell and wake everyone if I do that?"
"I promise I won't yell, just for that," said Harry, "Actually, I was thinking about not sneaking."
"To my room?"
Harry bit his lip, then sighed, "To Fleur's room."
"Why?"
"In case she also wants to say goodbye."
Gabrielle's eyes widened, then she smiled wryly, "probably she does." Then she nodded, "Yes, you should let her. Yes, you should ask her early and without sneaking."
Harry nodded.
"If later on, I decide to sneak anyway, and I find you in her room, and it is only goodbye hugs and not goodbye sex, may I join you?"
Harry nodded, "That is fine with me."
Gabrielle smiled.
...-...
A parting of ways
Fleur looked into her sister's room, expecting to see Gabrielle and Harry, probably discussing something trivial enough to be of interest to students of such diverse ages, or reminiscing over their adventures in wilderness survival, or … she was mildly prepared to find her sister barely clothed and partly transformed, snuggling with Harry, perhaps on Gabrielle's bed or the divan. She was not prepared to find her lounging atop a rather large, (though still with a few lingering adolescent rosettes), male lion.
"Gabrielle, Harry?" she said, "Lord Black is here to take Harry home."
"Alright," said Gabrielle and climbed off the lion, who also stood and became just Harry Potter, the annoying anomaly among British Mages.
"How long have you been an animagus?" said Fleur.
"Since a couple weeks before Second Task," said Harry.
"Hmm," she said, "well alright, are you packed?"
"Except for my broom," said Harry.
Gabrielle flinched and went to her vanity and retrieved a Firebolt from her belt pouch, and handed it over.
Oh, really! He let her borrow his Firebolt?
"What?" said Fleur, "is there anything else that needs to be returned?"
Harry pulled five feathers from his pocket and held them out.
Gabrielle took them reluctantly.
"You may keep my crown, to remember me by," said Harry.
Gabrielle's hand wandered across the vanity to a jagged piece of grey metal. She inspected it as if seeing it for the first time.
"It's the ugliest thing I've ever seen," she said sadly.
"I didn't make it to be pretty," said Harry, "I made it to keep you safe."
"Armour," whispered Gabrielle and turned toward him and a tear ran down each cheek. She dove at him and hugged him.
"Thank you for visiting and being mine," she said, "if only for three weeks."
"You're welcome," said Harry, returning her embrace.
"Will you ever come again?"
"Maybe next summer, you can visit me."
He turned to face Fleur, "the invitation includes you as well."
"Thank you," she said, "but it might not be next summer."
"That's fine," he said, "Whenever you visit England and want to see a friendly face, look me up."
"Alright," said Fleur.
"Lion?" said Gabrielle, releasing the embrace.
"What Bird?" said Harry. Their eyes met.
Gabrielle's hair shifted entirely to feathers, "Take one feather to remember me by, take the biggest one you can find."
"Oh," he said, "Are you sure?"
Gabrielle turned her back on him, and said, "My lion will do as he's told."
Harry chuckled, and stepped closer to run his fingers through the feathers of her scalp and mane, until he lifted one out from the rest.
"Hold it tight by the shaft," she said, "you don't want to break it."
"Alright," said Harry,
"There will be blood," she said, "But less if it comes out whole."
"Alright," he said, "is it going to hurt?"
"Very much," she said, "and I didn't ask you to worry about that, I asked you to worry about taking it out in one piece."
"Yes, Bird," he said, and gripped it carefully, then firmly and dragged it down and out.
Gabrielle shivered and went bald, and turned around, after two deep breaths she had her normal amount of hair.
"Remember your veela friend, Prince Lion," said Gabrielle.
"Remember your lion friend, Princess Veela," said Harry.
They seemed about to embrace again, but instead they held hands, for several seconds then let go.
Harry turned and looked at Fleur expectantly, so she led the way into the corridor and down the stairs.
At the landing Fleur turned back, "What will you do with that feather?" she said.
"I don't know yet," he said, "What is symbolically appropriate?"
"Hang it from the ceiling above your bed," she said, "or encase it in wood from a favourite tree from your own land, for a wand," she shrugged, "use it for a pen or a hair accessory.'
"Oh," he said.
"Not a hat decoration."
"Alright," he said, "Maybe a hair decoration, or hang over my bed," he said, "I haven't been on any of my own land yet."
She blinked, "that is something odd."
He shrugged. "Why, Not a hat decoration?" he said.
At her severe look he held up a hand, "I don't mean to rebel, I mean to ask, for an explanation so that I can … interpret from hair decorations: yes, hat decorations: no, into a general rule of thumb that will cover more cases?"
Her emotions relaxed from the anger that usually cowed him, into the avuncular teaching mode that got the best results from her tutoring group. "Clothes are inanimate, and are meant to flatter the wearer. A feather on a hat is an inanimate object found on the ground or hunted from a bird. The willing gift of a feather or a strand of hair or a drop of blood is not an inanimate object, but a piece of your friend. Perhaps the piece you hold is no longer alive, but it is still a piece of your friend. To be treasured like a jewel for as long as you treasure your friend, and your memories of your friend."
He nodded, "Yeah, there's a big difference between a hunting trophy stuffed and hanging on the wall, and a coil of hair hidden in a locket."
He looked at the feather in his hands, obviously contemplating that it wouldn't fit in a locket, but with enough care, could be attached to his hair.
Fleur smiled. "Take a feather of mine as well," she said, "may you never need it for a wand."
She searched her mental self image for a feather near the same length as the one Gabrielle had bequeathed him and shifted just enough for it to be accessible. She plucked it from behind her ear and held it out to him."
"Yours are whiter than hers."
She nodded, she conjured a silver hair clip with the correct runes already engraved, she pulled out several sickles and cast the copying charm from one to the other and released the conjuration.
"Keep them in here," she said, "Wear them for luck and for friendship."
Harry took the clip, and found where feathers could be clipped into it.
"Good," she said, "Now they will not easily be broken or lost."
He frowned and looked at the runes, his eyes widened, "and this will not … disenchant them?"
"They are not enchanted," Fleur said, "They are themselves, transfiguration, then un-transfiguration will not change them."
He pulled one back as if to flick water with it. It turned shiny yellow and bent easily, then sprung back with an irritating metal tone as soon as he let go. As soon as the stress and the vibrations were dissipated the metal feather returned once more to discarded flesh.
He took a deep breath and examined the runes again, "titanium spring-steel?" he said.
"Yes," she said.
"Impressive," he said
"Yes, I am," she said.
He made eyes at her, half irritated, half amused, entirely willing to be charmed.
"Go," she said, "your godfather is waiting."
"Yes, Fleur," he said and hurried downstairs.
...-...
{End Chapter 2}
