Author's Note: This one took forever and I don't know why, it simply refused to get on the page. It may also have something to do with the fact that I restructured the entire thing multiple times.

That said, I would never have gotten even this far if it were not for the support of many people over on the Harry/Fleur Discord server, the link to which is in my profile. There will also be a fanfic recommendation at the end of the chapter. Thanks to DaveAthenai, Gearheadbsnist, Charlennette, and x102reddragon in particular for inspiring me and encouraging me to write these stories. If you enjoy the story please leave a comment telling me what you liked and how you think I could improve. I always read them and they bring a smile to my face every time.

Danse de l'Automne:
Chapter One

"My turn!"

She shifted, straightening slightly and squaring her shoulders as she stared into her partner's eyes, determined to give nothing away.

"Soft," she declared, carefully enunciating the word.

The other girl was concentrating intensely, her slight frown framed on either side by a mass of rich brown curls.

"Is it… Pigwidgeon?"

"No, silly," said Isabelle, giggling at how Roxie's expression shifted from focus, past triumph, and settled in an annoyed pout.

"We said only people this round, remember?"

Roxie's eyes widened, her pout shifting to dismay.

"Come on, guess again," she said after a moment, not wanting the look to stay on her face for long. "A person this time."

Roxie fell into focus once more and Isabelle couldn't help but smile at the way the tip of her tongue stuck out between her teeth.

"Is it your grandmother?"

Isabelle tilted her head and squinted, letting the moment drag, and then…

"Nope."

"Ughh!"

Roxie slumped, pouting once more.

"Your turn."

She straightened, her eyes taking on a mischievous glint.

"Observant," she said, smugly.

Isabelle blinked, struggling to match the word with someone they knew.

"Auntie Hermione?"

"Nope!"

"Hmmph."

"Your turn now, come on."

Isabelle glared at her, her arms crossed, then grinned as a passing cloud let the sun shine on Roxie's face and gave her an idea.

"Cinnamon."

She gaped at her.

"Come on, guess."

"I- I dunno."

"Come oooooon, you have to."

"If I don't guess this time, can I go twice next turn?"

Isabelle hesitated a moment, and then…

"Fine, but only if I can do the same!"

"Deal!"

"Okay, now what's your word?"

"Hmm…"

But before she could speak, there was a knock at the door. They looked up just in time to see Papa's head poke in.

"Come on you two, it's time for Lunch."

Isabelle wilted.

"Already?"

"Already," he confirmed. "Your aunt Angelina will be here by one o'clock and Roxanne still needs to pack."

She and Roxie exchanged disappointed looks, but her mood was lifted slightly by what her Papa had to say next.

"Come on. I've made your favourite, and if you get packed quick enough then you might just get to visit some more before she arrives."

And with that he disappeared, leaving Roxie and Isabelle to begin scrambling after him. It was as they were washing up in the sink, a much more peaceful process with her friend than her brother, that Isabelle started, asking an already almost forgotten question.

"Who was your person, Roxie?"

"Oh, nuh uh, I'm not falling for that Izzie."

"Oh come on, we probably won't get to play again," she said, pouting. Roxie hesitated… "Pleeaaase?"

"Okay, but you have to tell me yours too!"

"Deal!"

"Okay. My person was Uncle Dennis."

"What? But how would I get that?"

"You've seen him as much as me," Roxie said, defensively.

"Hummph."

"He always has his camera, and he takes pictures of things no one else thinks of!"

She pouted for a moment longer, resolutely crossing her freshly towelled arms and pushing out her lower lip, then sighed.

"Fine, I guess." Roxie beamed, and Isabelle felt a sudden and overwhelming desire to play with her. "That's almost fair."

"Hey!"

Isabelle dodged the responding shove, dancing out of the way of the swatting towel.

"Izzie!"

She giggled, ducking into the hallway so that just her head, arm and shoulder were still in sight.

She smiled as wide as she could.

"Ughh, you're the worst!"

"Nope," she replied, popping the P and giggling.

"You still have to tell me yours!"

Isabelle paused and Roxie's eyes went wide.

"Izzie…"

"I dunno…"

"You promised!"

She pretended to think about it for a moment.

"You really should have guessed it."

"Izzie!"

She darted suddenly back into the room and booped Roxie on the nose with one finger before she could react.

"It's you!"

She ran away toward the dining room and safety, giggling as Roxanne came spluttering after her. Papa was waiting for them, the table already set with fresh sandwiches and a pitcher of limonade, and he caught them with a look of patient expectation that froze them both mid-run.

"All washed up?"

"Er, yes, Uncle Harry."

"And dried?"

Roxie blushed, her still damp hands darting behind her back, but his knowing look wasn't directed at her. Isabelle squirmed under his gaze for a moment, then the corner of his mouth twitched and he sat down, gesturing for them to do the same.

"Come on and tuck in. The sandwiches are tomato, cucumber, and tzatziki with thinly sliced lamb, and I made sorbet for afters."

Isabelle's eyes darted down to the platter of sandwiches, and her stomach grumbled suddenly as she realised that she hadn't eaten a single thing all morning.

"Thanks, Papa."

"Thank you, Uncle Harry!"

They were delicious, not just the sandwiches but the limonade as well, and she saw Roxie's eyes go wide and her mouth fall open as Papa brought out the three small bowls of sorbet at the end.

"What's that?"

"A fig, mint, and fresh basil sorbet."

Roxie's enthusiasm dimmed slightly at the herbs and unfamiliar fruit, but hunger won over hesitancy and she dug in.

It was amazing, even the cold tasted good, and Isabelle smiled and closed her eyes while Roxie did a happy little dance in her chair.

"Your food's the best!"

He chuckled, collecting their now empty dishes.

"Don't let your mother hear you say that."

"Why not?"

He smiled.

"She might ask me to cook for her, too," Papa said over his shoulder, disappearing down the kitchen stairs with the dishes floating along behind him.

Roxie's eyes went wide again and Isabelle giggled, fairly certain that she was planning to tell her maman as soon as she could.

He returned a moment later, wiping a towel on his hands and nodding at them.

"Alright, you two. Time to get packed."

Isabelle slouched in disappointment, then brightened slightly as she remembered what Papa had said about finishing packing quickly.

"Come on, Izzie, we can play some more after!"

"Coming!"

~~~{}~~~

Harry sighed contentedly as he slipped into the hot water, grateful for the thousandth time for Fleur's insistence that they buy the extra large tub.

"A tiring day?"

"A tiring week, more like."

He opened his eyes to see Fleur stepping in through the door from the dimly lit bedroom, dressed in a fluffy white robe.

"Still, I wouldn't trade it for the world," he said, somewhat distracted by the sight before him as his lovely wife made her intent to join him in the aforementioned magnificent tub clear. She smiled sweetly as she hung the robe on a hook and walked closer, pausing in her movements to strike a slight pose at the water's edge.

"Ça te plaît?"

"More every day."

Her smile widened and remained firmly in place as she slid in across from him, her legs tangling pleasantly with his as she echoed his earlier sound of contentment.

"You as well?"

"Non, it is my back. The cushioning charms only do so much."

"You could get a different chair?"

She pouted, her lip jutting out comically.

"I like my chair."

"A standing desk, then."

One brow and lid lifted, and Fleur gave him a one-eyed, unimpressed look.

"If I wanted to be on my feet all day, I would be a farmer."

"I'll have you know I spend a fair amount of time on my hands and knees in the dirt as well."

She glared at him, then sighed and sank further into the water.

"I am too comfortable for this. How was Angelina?"

"Well. I gave her some of the sorbet I told you about."

"The fig one?"

"Oui."

"And Roxanne?"

"Sad to go, as usual, but she had a good time."

"And Isabelle?"

Harry paused, mulling over their daughter's state of mind between Roxanne leaving and her mother arriving home.

"She doesn't like to be alone," he said eventually. "She's gotten used to the idea of James being at school well enough, but not the experience. With Roxanne gone, we'll need to find other ways to occupy her as she adapts."

Fleur's lower lip disappeared between her teeth as she nodded, her gaze drifting out of focus as she lost herself in thought.

"Have Teddy and James' letters arrived yet?" she asked after some time.

Harry stirred, the warm water having lulled him into a slight doze.

"Yes," he said after a moment, his thoughts needing the time to catch up to his ears. "Just after Angelina and Roxanne left. They're on the headboard."

"How are they?"

"Quite good, I think. Their first week seems to have gone well. Teddy is helping James get settled in, encouraging him to make friends. He and Pierre have included him in their study group, though they want him to make his own."

"And their studies?"

"So far so good. Though apparently, Teddy isn't nearly as good at explaining transfiguration as he is at performing it."

"Mmhhm."

He opened his eyes again, not sure when they'd drifted closed. Fleur's were closed, her entire being seemingly having melted into a puddle of relaxation. He allowed himself a moment's indulgence to stare, mesmerized by the soft lines and curves of her face and the rhythm of her breathing, then forced himself to speak.

"Fleur?"

"Mmmm"

"We need to go to bed."

"Nnmm"

"We can't stay in the tub all night."

Her eyes opened just wide enough to glare at him.

"It is magic, it will stay warm."

"We'll get pruny, and sleeping in the tub will make your back worse."

She glared harder, then let the expression collapse with a groan. "Alright," she said, making no move to rise.

He arched a brow at her as he began to get up himself, offering a hand once he had done so. She took it, and a moment later they were up and dry with a flick of his wand, the water in the bath similarly vanishing.

"À la prochaine," said Fleur, pouting at the now empty tub, then sighed and reached for her robe.

They were in bed in short order, Fleur having foregone her usual nightly brushing in favour of more time cuddling under the blankets, and they drifted off to sleep in each other's arms.

~{}~

Harry pulled the last, bright yellow pepper off its stalk with a gentle snap and passed it to Isabelle who put it in the basket with the others. That done, he rose to his feet with only a slight twinge from his back, dusting off his hands and the knees of sturdy trousers.

"What are we doing next, Papa?"

A glance showed him the expression on Isabelle's face, just as bright and energetic as she'd been before breakfast that morning when she asked him what he had planned for the day.

"Well, a few of the bean plants are ready for harvest, but aren't you getting tired by now?"

"Nope," she said instantly, popping the P.

His brow went up in mild surprise. A glance at the sky told him it was already past midday, and another back down at Isabelle that she had no intention of stopping soon.

She shifted in place under his focused attention, the most recent basket of peppers still clutched in her hands.

"Lunch first, then we can come back out, okay?"

She nodded eagerly.

"Lead the way."

Isabelle turned and darted off along the row back to the path up to the house and what would prove to be only a short respite, Harry close behind and matching the speed of her shorter legs with his own longer, measured stride.

And so it went, as soon as the last bite passed his lips, from fava and romano beans to eggplants, tomatoes, and zucchini, and with each basket filled, Harry's brows lifted ever higher.

"I think that's enough for today."

"But Papa, there's still more."

"And it will still be there tomorrow."

It was nearly four o'clock, and he could see that she was getting tired despite her insistence to the contrary. But as soon as they were inside and washed, and the baskets of produce were properly charmed and stowed, she was right back at it asking him what they would be doing next.

"The vegetables need to be sorted."

And again after that.

"We could start the pot of pasta sauce, I suppose."

And still more after that.

"Have I ever shown you how to fix the plumbing in the sink?"

Again and again she would get tired and they would stop, and Harry would think that was it for the day, only for Isabelle to reappear soon after with yet another hidden reserve of energy. Eventually, Harry was the one beginning to tire, and with the sun starting to hang low he called a halt to their activities.

"But Papa, isn't there more to do?"

"There always is, but we need to rest," he patiently explained, watching the slightly crestfallen look on Isabelle's face with some concern.

"But that's boring."

The sheer petulance of Isabelle's tone brought a half smile to his lips, and he ruffled her hair good-naturedly.

"Yes, it is, but it's also good for you. Now, come on. We'll take a nap, and if you're still bored when you wake up then you can help me with dinner."

She hesitated, almost turning to do as he had said but holding back.

"Isabelle?"

"Papa?"

Her voice was oddly small.

"Yes?"

"Can we go do something together? Tomorrow?"

"Absolutely."

~~~{}~~~

Isabelle woke up feeling more excited than she had in days.

She was warm and comfy, snuggling into her covers and still half asleep with a dim light seeping between her eyelids when she heard a seagull cry out the window and it finally registered in her mind that it was morning.

Her eyes shot open and her face brightened automatically in a smile.

Covers flew as she leapt up, darting quietly over to her dresser and reaching up nearly to her shoulders to open the top drawer and pull out her socks, and then the rest of her clothes.

There was a knock on the door as she finished redoing the laces of her trainers and a moment later Papa spoke from the other side.

"Isabelle, are you awake?"

"Yes Papa!"

"Come on then, we need to hurry."

There wasn't any tension in his voice, and so she only became more excited as she did as he asked and moved even faster.

A few moments later she was slipping out of her room, instinctively closing the door behind her even though James was away at school, and darting down the hall to where Papa stood waiting at the cross of the long and short hallways.

"Come on, not long now."

She nodded, barely having come to a stop before he was having her grab her coat and leading her out the door and right along the veranda.

They reached the end and turned right again, heading down the steps to the balcony connecting to the kitchen and the steps down to the shore.

"What are we doing today?"

"I thought I might take you sailing. And since we're up early enough, watch the sunrise over the waves."

If it had been possible her smile would have widened.

The steps leading down the cliff from their house zigged and zagged, weaving between the peaks of the large rocks until finally reaching the water's edge and the small, stone pier her parents had built a few years earlier.

The boat was there, its big white sails tied up for now, and Isabelle shifted eagerly in place as Papa flicked his wand and floated the boarding ramp into place so they could get going.

Soon enough they were sailing away, the ship having come briefly to life to ready itself with a flick of Papa's wand, and she was staring eagerly at the slowly brightening horizon.

"How long will it take?"

"About ten minutes now, maybe fifteen."

She pouted and he reached over to ruffle her hair. She giggled.

"How about I tell you a story while we wait?"

"What kind of story?"

"Did I ever tell you how the ship got its name?"

Her eyes widened as she shook her head. Papa smiled, tapping the controls with his wand and then leading her up to the deck where he conjured a pair of chairs facing east.

"We were in Cadaques on the last day of the voyage and we still hadn't found a name we both liked."

"Why not?"

"It had to be special, just right, and nothing seemed to fit."

"How did you pick Angel?"

"El Angel del Mar, and we weren't the ones that came up with it."

She turned away from the brightening horizon to look at him in surprise and saw his soft smile lit up by the coming dawn.

"Cadaques is a small village built around its port, and on either side of the mouth of that small harbour stand a pair of statues. Fidel to the west, on the prow of his father's ship, and Ciela to the east, standing atop a cresting wave."

The sky behind him was purple, but ahead it was beginning to glow gold.

"We met a man there who said we looked like them and told us their story, how Fidel's father had been lost at sea and his mother had forbidden him to touch the waves only for him to dive in alone to rescue a drowning girl."

"Was he alright?"

"He was, and the girl he rescued turned out to be no ordinary girl but instead an angel. She thanked him and gave him her blessing to protect him on the water so long as he helped those in need, and he did. He would go out in every storm to rescue those unfortunate souls who were caught by the winds and waves, and he was never harmed. But one day, in a very bad storm, his best friend taunted the waves because he believed they couldn't harm him as long as he was with Fidel. The ship rocked and he would have fallen, but Fidel jumped forward and threw him back even though it sent him over the edge."

Isabelle's heart leapt in her chest and she leaned forward eagerly, a growing light poking her eyes from the side.

"What happened to him?"

"Well, his friend thought he was gone, but then the storm stilled and the angel appeared again. She rose from the still water with Fidel in her arms and carried him to shore, and they all saw she was fully grown now like they were. She told Fidel that her blessing would be with him so long as he kept to his promise, but when she turned to leave he stopped her and asked her name. She told him, Ciela, and he was happy."

He paused, and Isabelle sank into her seat feeling all warm inside.

"Wow."

"There's more," he said, nodding at her surprised look. "As Fidel grew older he kept going out to sea when others would have stopped, and he was fine, but he broke his leg on shore and had to stop."

"No!"

"He did. For years he stayed on land, and when he grew very old he fell into a sleep and everyone thought he would die without seeing the sea again. They all came together around him, but then he woke up for one last day and celebrated with them one last time. Then, just before dawn the next day," and here he paused, nodding to the horizon and drawing Isabelle's gaze to the rapidly growing, fiery glow.

"He stood from his bed and walked for the first time in years. None saw him passing except a young boy, who watched as he went down to the docks, put his old boat out to water and climbed aboard. He sailed out to the horizon, and the boy saw the angel waiting for him there. He grew younger as he neared, and by the time they were close enough to touch he had become just as healthy and strong as he'd been when she saved him years ago."

Isabelle sat, mesmerized and watching as the first edge of orange began to peek over the horizon, the flash of gold coming in the same instant as her Papa's final words.

"He stretched out his hand to touch her, and in the instant they met there was a bright flash of blinding light and the both of them were gone."

She blinked hard, clearing her eyes from the sharp glow, and looked over at her Papa in confusion.

"But how did that give you a name?"

He smiled softly.

"It's Spanish, it means Angel of the Sea."

Her whole body felt filled with warmth as she stared out across the horizon, the blue water transformed into gold by the rising sun, and remembered another story her Papa had told her.

"And I will take you with me, for as long as you'll have me, to see the wonders of the world."

The words were warm too, but they left her feeling less so. Like she was looking at the sunrise instead of sitting in it, and she couldn't help but remember that when they got back it would just be her and Papa, and Maman, there waiting for them.

"What are we doing today?"

"Well," he said slowly, reaching up one hand to stroke his chin and smiling when he saw her do the same, "How would you like to learn to sail this thing?"

His soft smile widened to a full-on grin as her eyes went wide and her mouth dropped open.

"Oui! Oui oui oui oui oui!"

"All right then, but you better pay close attention."

"Yes! Euh… why?"

He grinned again, and this time it was more playful.

"Because I won't be the one sailing us home."

~{}~

She found herself thoroughly tired all the next day.

It had been fantastic, and true to his word her Papa had taught her to sail the ship well enough that he hadn't been the one to bring them home, even if he had helped significantly, but she had been so exhausted that she could barely remember anything past the top step back up the cliff from the shore.

They took it easy, only doing light work, but still she felt tired.

And it wasn't just her arms and legs, there was something about knowing they'd be getting up, working the crops, and going to bed the next day only to do it all over again that made her want to close her eyes.

That night at dinner, Maman and Papa talked more than usual.

Isabelle tried to talk too, she really did, but she was tired and they began asking her fewer questions, letting her eat her bisque in peace and listen to their stories, and smiling when they made her laugh and stopping to answer any time she did manage to think of something to say. But then dinner was over and it was time for bed, and as Isabelle shuffled yawning into her room she couldn't help but feel even more tired at the idea of doing it all again.

She wished Roxie was still there.

That night, in bed, she found herself staring up at the ceiling and listening to the dull crash of wind and waves, feeling the night pass her by.

She stared and waited.

She could have stood, could have turned and buried her face in the pillow, closed her eyes, but she didn't.

She just stared and waited.

Eventually, sleep did come and take her. Carrying her away. And as her eyes closed she let it bring her on its voyage dream, and still she waited. This time merely for morning to come.

AN: Thank you for reading. If you liked the story, please leave a comment telling me what worked and what didn't. I see and read every single one, even long after the stories are posted, and I appreciate them all!

Harry/Fleur Discord Server: Link in my bio

Fanfic Recommendation: Back? Not Really by grumpywolf, a completed Harry/Fleur time travel AU.