Harry's mind was still as blank as ever. All his thoughts kept returning to Fleur. He used to be able to cast a glance at a person and tell everything about them, now he couldn't. Harry hoped that this love fever would pass and he wouldn't get excited at the mere sight of Fleur. But until it passed, why not give himself to her completely? After all, are they a couple or not?
After the second challenge, the Champions sent Gabrielle down the chimney back to France and consequently, the two of them are left together as they were before. Except for one "but." Now they could let their very slightly animal instincts get out.
For the next week, Harry and Fleur only left the bedroom to eat, bathe and rest. The rest of their time was spent in the bedroom. They did two things there: they either slept or fucked wildly in maximum body contact. Harry had unintentionally held back arousal with magic for too long (a whole six months!) and was now accepting that price, for the arousal had come upon him with double the force for an extended period of time. This is the most common consequence of any enchantment involving human emotions or needs.
And so, after a time, Harry's fever finally passed. His deductive and analytical 'powers' had returned, and the perpetual boner had passed. Fleur breathed a sigh of relief. No, it had probably been one of the best weeks of her life, but... she already had bloody chafing in her crotch.
And actually, she was over the moon. A day that promised to be the worst day of her life had abruptly become the best. She had expected anything but his words. Veela thought he was angry or just didn't want anything more to do with her. Harry, on the other hand, had been so aloof. But it turned out, as he later explained, that he was just prostrate.
But the way he had confessed his love to her... perhaps those words would be the key to her patronus. Words that were then backed up by actions, aside from the understandable lust, she felt an uncharacteristic sensuality in Harry towards her. It was a beautiful thing. Even though most of the myths about veelas were fiction, there was a grain of truth in some of them. Veelas choose a mate once. It may not be as romantic as they say. Veelas are not fanatically devoted to him, do not feel his emotions, and in principle can survive a breakup and then fall in love... but it will be just sublimation. There wouldn't be that storm of feeling. And Fleur felt that Harry was exactly her partner. She loved him too much. Perhaps her boggart would show Harry leaving her right now.
When Harry stepped back a little, everything went back to normal. Well, except for the fact that they sometimes didn't sleep at night for obvious reasons. And he was once again convinced that humans were strange creatures. Now that they were actually dating, the whole of Hogwarts was convinced that they had broken up. This was critically incomprehensible to Potter. Controlling the masses was not something he was good at.
In fact, their relationship was rather odd. Harry wasn't good at expressing his emotions, nor was he used to being the first to initiate any physical contact. But he tried very hard. All his experience and knowledge of psychology told him that her love had to be maintained somehow. He really didn't want to lose her.
Perhaps, and his boggart would be in the form of Fleur leaving him.
Everything about her was perfect for him: an intelligence that would undeniably prevent him from feeling like a "zoophile" by having sexual contact with a "fish", a constantly braking, restless and emotional character and, of course, looks.
Before, he would have said that love was just silly chemical reactions in the brain. And in the Muggle world he would have been right, but this is the world of magic. Love here can be reinforced by many different things. Up to and including the bonding of souls from a particularly strong mating combination from a past rebirth. At least that's what Dumbledore had explained to him when Harry had honestly answered the question, "You do love her, don't you?". Somehow the Headmaster didn't want to describe their case. Said that "it would break the whole romance." Harry didn't understand what delicious had to do with red.
He also pondered Dumbledore's caveat about "...from a past rebirth." It had been said too confidently.
Now Harry was sitting in his chair opposite the fireplace as usual, and Fleur in hers. As much as they don't want to be close to each other, they both have certain habits and complexes. Four hours a day at least they spent without body contact. It was easier for both of them.
"Fleur, I love you," Harry said with absolutely no hint of a smile.
"I love you too, 'Arry."
Sometimes he gets like that. He sits deep in his thoughts and sometimes in his labyrinthine mind he comes up with thoughts of Fleur. And he just says he loves her. Sure, usually guys give their girlfriends compliments, but perhaps she had had enough of those words... well, and the nightly proof that she was beautiful.
"I guess we've had enough of the aloofness for today," Fleur said with those thoughts as she dropped into Harry's lap. His arms immediately wrapped around her. He clearly didn't mind.
There was a crackling sound, a little blast of heat from the center of the room. It was Dumbledore. Fleur and Harry, who were used to this, didn't react in any way. Except that the girl kissed the boy on the nose and sat back in her seat. It wasn't very proper to sit on a boy's lap in front of guests after all.
"Hello, Harry. Hello, Ms. Delacour."
"Bonjour, monsieur Dumbledore."
Harry simply nodded.
"I thought it was time to continue our dialog that we began after we elected you the fourth champion," noticing Harry's questioning look, the Headmaster continued, "I didn't tell you everything. What I said was true. I made an oath, but I didn't tell you one specific point."
The question about Fleur's presence wasn't even an issue. Dumbledore knew full well that Harry trusted her completely. And the Headmaster hoped for good reason.
Though, obviously, in a literal sense for him, not for nothing. There was a thin connection between their souls. It's still small, it can be severed with almost no consequences, but it's growing at a tremendous rate. It's very rare. Frankly, Dumbledore had seen it a couple dozen times in his long life.
"Did you ever wonder why Voldemort didn't die that night?"
"Wondered, of course. Horcruxes. Probably a few of them. There was a book in second year and it's an obvious Horcrux. Judging by the occasional sore scar, it's still alive, even after destroying the diary. Hence, there are still Horcruxes. By the way, I'd like to ask, what is my scar? I haven't found anything like my symptoms anywhere. I've reread a bunch of books on medicine, specifically on magical scars, on dark-magic curses, on Avada, but I haven't found a-anything."
Dumbledore is sometimes weaned on the idea that Harry is not the kind of child who will NOT ask any question related to him. But still, he could not treat Harry the way he did with others. The Headmaster still considered them equals, at least in intelligence and potential magical power.
"Before we get to the significant matters, let's go over the less important ones..."
"As usual, though. You know, it's psychologically easier if the bad news comes first."
"Harry, there is no such study. I've educated myself on modern psychology. And I have to say, you were remarkably accurate in your description of Severus. What was it? 'Socially maladaptive infantile affective neurasthenic'."
Fleur loved listening to their bickering. Of course, you couldn't call it friendly banter, age between them being too great a barrier to friendship, but it was very much like that.
The headmaster never came just for fun. He always accumulated a few 'questions' and came in, asking the most interesting one for Harry at the end, while her boyfriend tried to get the information out before he was supposed to. It was a game of sorts. Fleur, on the other hand, almost always just listened.
"Are you so ticked off that you couldn't understand something, so you're resorting to the terminology of modern psychology?" asked Harry sarcastically.
"What, no, of course not. I just decided to see the achievements of Muggles in that field," even Fleur couldn't believe it, let alone Harry, "but let's get back to my questions. Harry, why aren't you answering Sirius' letters?"
"Sirius?" - Fleur involuntarily wondered to herself. Harry had never told her about any Sirius. It even made her feel a little resentful.
"I burn all letters that don't come with my owl. It's either me writing or I'm not interested in what it says."
"What else did I expect, actually..." said Albus more to himself. "He's very worried about you. You haven't answered the last few letters, in case you're not aware, the Daily Prophet prints a lot of slander about you. And most of the average person believes it. That's why Sirius contacted me, even though he doesn't believe it, he's worried."
"I'm aware of that. I don't really care, somehow. Talk him into going somewhere warm. He'll be a major nuisance to me. He's schizophrenic and probably has a split personality. A dog and a man. He sees me as a father figure. And no joke, he specifically thinks I'm James who changed his name. He needs therapy - and that's a fact. And yes, I'm not going to discuss this anymore, you're not going to change my mind. I have no intention of maintaining contact with sick people."
Fleur still didn't understand who Sirius was, why he saw Harry as his dead father, what dementors had to do with it, and what the dog had to do with it? More and more questions, less and less answers. Tonight, after their dialog with Dumbledore, she would find out everything. Or else she'd send him to sleep on the couch.
"Well, I understand you. It's not very nice to socialize with someone who doesn't see you as... um... you. Yeah, well, I agree. I'll send you to the hospital, either forcibly or by force. Second question, then: why do you think I withheld information from you?"
"That's where I have no idea. I didn't think you were withholding anything."
"About fifty years ago, there was an extremely intelligent student who studied here. Compared to you... no, still I think he was a little less brilliant than you. But it was still impressive. He was able to connect with everyone. His fellow students, his teachers, even the housekeepers. By fifth year, he could pass the NEWT, and very smoothly at that. He wasn't lacking in magical power either. He was singled out by many teachers, including me. We taught him extra, gave him the knowledge he craved, and he absorbed it like a sponge. He was something of the pride of Hogwarts at the time... We made a mistake. That young man was Tom Marvolo Riddle. I don't think there's any need to explain, you understand. And now back to the reason I withheld the information. You reminded me of him. The same look, attitude, intelligence... well, you're a hell of a lot alike, even in appearance. It scared me, so I took a wait-and-see attitude and decided to look. And I did. Guess why I realized you were different from him?"
Harry's brain immediately kicked into gear. What had changed from their dialog then and now? Had he gotten smarter? No. Had he gotten stronger? Not that either. He hadn't changed in any way. At all. He hasn't changed his looks- almost. Almost?
Grasping that thought, he began to tug at its tail with determination.
Almost? Well, the only thing that had changed was that he recognized that feeling 'fishy' wasn't a bad thing. It's good. And has been convinced of that for the past week or so... That's the answer. Dumbledore is very sensitive. He treats everyone as if they were an immature child, which means... that's a valid reason for him.
"Fleur," Harry replied evenly.
"That's right. You love each other. You saved her sister. I'm sure you have a characterization of me from the 'overly sensitive' category." And it's true. To me, your feelings for Ms. Delacour are proof enough."
The aforementioned veela decided that (so be it!) Harry was forgiven. Even deserving of a little reward in the night...
"What if I originally set this whole thing up to find out what you withheld, and I feel nothing for Fleur?"
"Not forgiven. Unambiguous. Couch. For a week," Delacour thought furiously.
"You'd at least not talk about it now until after I'd given away the withheld. But I did notice a slight connection between your auras."
"En réalité?" exclaimed Fleur, slightly ahead of Potter.
"Yes, Ms. Delacour. It is still small, but it is increasing very rapidly. Such a bond is impossible without mutual love, and judging by its rapid thickening, your feelings are only solidifying."
"Okay, back to the reward idea," thought a happy Fleur. And then quickly ran up to Harry and pecked him on the lips, to which the Headmaster broke out into a smile that immediately disappeared from what they were about to talk about. And, gathering his thoughts, he spoke up:
"Now, back to the Horcruxes and your scar... That night, the little piece of soul that remained in Tom's body got into you. There's a part of Voldemort sitting in your aura..."