Author's Note: Steve.
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 Three
Harry sighed as he stepped out into the street.
It was bright out, the mid-October sun framed softly by a few stray wisps of cloud as it shone down on Bordeaux, and he squinted momentarily as his eyes adjusted to the glare.
He let his feet carry him a few paces away from the building he'd just exited before he slowed, fishing the worn scrap of paper from the breast pocket of his coat, glancing to confirm what he already knew.
A man in business attire approached him the other way and they each turned to the side as they passed by on the narrow pavement.
He checked his watch: half past two.
The movie would have ended by now, but he knew Fleur had planned for after and didn't worry.
He turned a corner into the alleyway and paused, seeing a pair of young women standing at the other end holding cans of paint, spraying graffiti on the wall. One of them seemed to sense his presence and looked over, freezing in place when she met his gaze. The other turned as well and her eyes went wide. She took a step back and away from the wall, her gaze shifting all around, and Harry realized he was blocking the only exit.
"Euh… bonjour," she said, smiling awkwardly.
One eyebrow lifted, and he stared at them for a moment longer while they exchanged a nervous glance before turning around and walking away to find some other place to disapparate in peace.
"Bonne journée," the first one called out behind him, then grunted as if the other had just hit her.
He pulled the list out once again, this time paying closer attention to the locations written on it and not just how many he'd crossed off so far. There weren't many left, none in Bordeaux, and he frowned as he read their names and tried to connect them with the pictures and maps Fleur had shown him that morning before she and Isabelle had left for the day.
Broadly speaking, the plan had been for Harry to go and scout the list of dance schools Fleur had put together over the week or so since they'd begun working on their plan while Fleur would take Isabelle out for a day in Paris, acclimating her to the controlled chaos of the muggle world in the hope it would better prepare her for being thrust into a whole new social context in her classes.
Classes that were proving frustratingly difficult to arrange.
Fleur had found a scattering of potential schools as from as far as Toulouse, Lyon, Strasbourg, even Lille, and of course Bordeaux, but thus far none of the more than a dozen possibilities had worked out well. A few had simply been closed for the day forcing him to move on and resolve to come back another day should he not find a worthy candidate among the others. Several had catered only to older students, such as the one Isabelle had found and which prompted the entire inquiry, though there had been one that somewhat confusingly told Harry that she was several years too old to attend.
He shook his head, ducking under a low-hanging tree branch from one of the small trees set along the pavement as he walked. How anyone expected children that young to succeed in ballet was beyond him.
Of the handful of schools he'd found that were accepting girls Isabelle's age, he still hadn't been able to find a good fit. One had been more akin to a monthly club for parents and children who already knew what they were doing to meet and socialize, but even if Isabelle had already been skilled it wouldn't have worked. One afternoon a month was nowhere near the level of interaction she needed.
Several more had been part of, or otherwise affiliated with, larger institutions without whose membership Isabelle could not attend. There had even been two, including the one he had just left, that were more akin to preparatory schools for those who wished to guarantee their children a place in various performing arts academies in years to come.
Harry sighed, longing for the simple days of owls and acceptance letters as he turned a corner into another alleyway, mercifully vandal-free, and vanished with a soft pop a moment later.
~{}~
Harry looked up at the sign for Ecole de Danse Harmonie with a slight frown.
Not that there was anything wrong with the sign, of course. It was actually pretty good, elegant white script and a white figure mid-leap on a black background. No, he had just become frustrated.
It was already past four o'clock and not long until it was time for him to pack in for the day and head home, and only in the past half-hour had he made any progress. More than a dozen schools and only one that he might consider letting Isabelle attend, and only if he found nothing here in Lyon. The instructor at the last school had been pleasant enough, a mild-mannered woman in her forties with mousy hair and unassuming features, but something about the building had been… off.
He shook his head, casting around to get a feel for the place. The studio wasn't much larger than the one they passed on their way back from the park, though it seemed better appointed with fine lines of black and gold along the windows and rich, dark woods. Along with the bright red Porsche parked in the small, narrow drive between the buildings, it gave an overall air of self-assured style of the sort he was certain Fleur would appreciate and of which the Dursleys would have vocally disapproved.
Harry stepped forward, somewhat more cheerful than he'd been a moment prior, and tried the door.
It opened with a gentle chime and he found himself entering what seemed to be a softly lit waiting area. There were chairs, several filled, and the back wall was composed of floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over the studio proper, where a class was taking place.
He glanced around for an office and found one, but a look through the interior window beside the door showed no one inside.
"Are you looking for Madame Dubois?"
He turned, following the sound of the voice to find one of the people sitting in the chairs looking at him, a woman perhaps a little older than he was with slightly wavy, shoulder-length brown hair.
"If you are then you'll have to wait," she continued, nodding toward the window as she spoke. "She doesn't allow any intrusions while classes are in session."
"She's the instructor?"
"And the owner, yes. Why do you need to speak to her?"
He glanced through the window at the now identified Mme. Dubois, an athletic looking woman stood facing her students dressed in black leotard and with her black hair in a bob. He supposed he could just wait for the class to end and speak to her then.
"Do you know how long until they're finished?"
The woman glanced up at a clock on the wall.
"Well, the class ends at four forty, but it'll be a while before they're all out and she's ready to talk."
"I see."
He was debating leaving and adding this one to list of schools to come back to later when she spoke again.
"If you tell me what you need," she said, leaning in and setting a book she'd been holding off to the side, "I might be able to help."
For a second he hesitated, torn between his instinctual reticence to tell anyone he didn't know anything about his children ever and the much more reasonable assertion that she probably did know most of what needed to find out.
In the end, his desire to not have to deal with it again later won.
"I've been looking for a dance school to enrol my daughter in and wanted to speak with the instructors before making a decision."
"Ah, you've come to the right place then," she said, her demeanour brightening considerably. "Céline is the best there is."
"Céline?"
"Céline Dubois," she confirmed, nodding.
Harry took a seat nearby.
"Does she take students under their teens?" he asked, watching the lesson as he did so.
"Yes, my youngest is nine and she's been attending for a few years."
"Really?"
"Oh yes."
He nodded slightly in appreciation, turning back to watch the lesson once more.
"Does your daughter have any past experience?"
"No, is that a problem?"
"I doubt it, Céline holds beginner classes for all ages."
He nodded, continuing to study Mme. Dubois closely. She had an air of strictness about her that was reminiscent of Professor McGonnagal. But from the way she was helping one student achieve a pose he was struggling with, she seemed to have a warmth as well.
"She's quite good, you said?"
"Very much so," the woman said, smiling enthusiastically. "My eldest also attends and she's doing very well."
"Is this her class?"
"No, my youngest's. She's the one in the middle row, there, with the ponytail."
He followed her proud gaze to the middle of the second row where a young girl with hair the same shade of medium-brunette as the woman he was speaking to was practicing her moves.
"Are there any requirements to enrol?"
"Nothing onerous. Regular attendance, a promise of decency and punctuality. Céline takes her students learning environment very seriously."
Harry hummed agreeably.
"Are the students allowed to socialise?"
"Well, there's no mischief during lessons, but they're encouraged to help each other and she gives them time to get to know one another before and after lessons," she explained. "Getting them to trust each other is rather important for some of the more advanced techniques later on."
"Good."
She continued to look at him expectantly for a moment but he didn't have any more to say.
"Er, thank you. It's been most enlightening."
She smiled warmly, waving it off with a hand.
"Oh it's nothing, it's always good to see fathers getting more involved in these sorts of things. I'm Patricia, Patricia Blanc."
"Harry Potter," he said, offering a hand and giving hers a single, respectful shake when she accepted.
She nodded, adjusting in her seat to face her book more fully, and Harry sank back into his own with a silent sigh of relief.
He glanced at the clock: four thirty-five, and then back through the window where Mme. Dubois was leading the students in what looked like stretches. Even knowing he wouldn't be able to talk to her right away, he decided to wait.
He had a good feeling about this one.
~{}~
The sun was setting.
He watched it slowly fall, drowning in the sea.
He sighed.
Then turned, looking back over his shoulder at the door just out of view, hearing both its opening and the steps coming out to join him.
"Is she asleep?"
"Almost."
There was a subtle grind of wood on stone as she took the second chair.
An ocean breeze blew across the terrace railing, the movement of the air catching pleasantly in fine hairs on his skin.
"How'd it go?"
"Good, she did well and we had a wonderful time." A pause. "I do not think I had realised how much I had missed her."
"I'm glad."
"For you?"
"I found one."
She sighed in relief.
"How soon can she begin?"
"A few days, a week at most."
He saw her nod out of the corner of his eyes and turned his head to see her. She was cast in stark relief by the light of the falling sun, her profile illuminated in fiery gold, deep purple shadows outlining her features.
"How are you feeling?"
For a moment she said nothing, simply watching the sun as it fell. Her hair stirred gently in the soft sea breeze
She shrugged.
He returned to the horizon, the sun more than half gone.
He nodded.
The stars were appearing. The passing of day heralding the advancing curtain of night, already dominating the sky above them and behind them and all around. It was a fine point now, fast diminishing, but its glow was still seen in the air around it.
A sky painted in vibrant hues.
"Nothing lasts forever," he said.
"Would that it could," she replied.
It was gone now, disappeared behind the horizon while they remained there sitting still.
"It's not what we can't get back that matters," he began carefully, feeling the words as he spoke them.
She looked at him, and when he turned as well it seemed the starlight had become suspended in her hair.
"It's what we do with what we still have left," he concluded.
She looked at him. The last light of the painted sky had faded from her features and an entirely new sort of beauty took its stead.
"And what will we do when that time is spent as well?"
He said nothing.
"Precious as it is, it will not last."
"All the more reason to cherish it while we can."
"Yes, but we do not end where they begin. We cannot place that on them."
He looked away.
There was quiet. The sun was gone and the moon was rising, and he felt the warmth of day begin to fade. If he had stood, moved, acted, he might still have made his own.
"We cherish what we have."
~~~{}~~~
She turned the page.
A hand reached for one of the markers scattered all around, lifting and bringing it closer as she added the final touches to the picture on the page.
Purple, green, gold, and now a hint of red accented the woman's mane of wild, long black hair.
She bit her lip, her brow furrowing in concentration.
She'd already finished filling in the colours on the silver-haired man and the garden in the background, and as scanned the page for more she felt a swell of disappointment as she realised there were no more lines to fill.
She turned the page back again, checking once more to be sure she'd gotten it right from what she'd already done, then turned them the other way.
There were no more pages.
Isabelle sighed, rolling over on the carpet and letting her head flop back to stare up at the parlour's ceiling.
The clock ticked over the mantlepiece.
A bird chirped outside.
A faint murmur came from where her Papa sat working in the next room.
Her rolled to the side, toward the book, and she stared at it.
She wanted more.
She imagined.
There she was, wandering around, when an owl fluttered down in front of her with a letter. She smiled, her mind racing at what the letter might contain. She'd been given a castle, she decided. Like a princess. She had horses, and servants, and a dragon!
Isabelle grinned.
But then she frowned, she didn't know how to take care of horses and dragons. Who did?
She remembered her uncles' stories, Uncle Charlie and Uncle Bill, and her eyes lit up as she found a solution. She sent a letter to the Goblins, and they met her in her hall. Isabelle was sitting in her big chair, and she bowed as they came near and they bowed back.
"Greetings," they said, and "Well met," she replied.
And they had gifts for her! They filled her castle with suits of armour and put a saddle on her dragon to ride, and she gave them gold and diamonds, and they became friends.
But what would she do with it all?
"All rise for the lady Isabelle, Lady of the Potters and of the Dragon Castle, and friend of Goblins."
She was in a big round room with all sorts of people sitting in rows around a stage.
"I've come to make things better," she said, and they applauded. But some of them scowled and looked mean, and Isabelle frowned as she remembered more stories, her parents' stories, about bad people and how they stopped them.
"You can hide no more!" she declared, sitting on her dragon and looking down at a figure in dark robes.
"The Lords and Ladies are mine," the figure said, their voice a cold sneer. "You can do nothing to me!"
"Justice waits for no one," she replied, "You can't hide behind your rules anymore!"
The figure yelled in anger and pulled out its wand, shooting a streak of fire her way. Her dragon roared and blocked it with her wing, but the dark figure had a dragon too!
She got off her dragon and let her go to fight the other dragon, facing the figure alone.
"What will you do now? You're all alone!"
"I'm never alone," she said, pulling out her wand and magic sword. "My friends are always with me!"
And suddenly there were others!
Teddy and James, and her cousins, and Maman and Papa! And Roxanne, standing beside her.
But the dark figure was too strong!
They fought, but one by one they got tied up in ropes of shadow, and it was just her and Roxie facing the dark figure.
"You can't beat me," it said, laughing. "You and your friends are weak!"
"You're wrong," Roxie shouted bravely. "Together, we're stronger than you'll ever be!"
Roxie reached for Isabelle's hand and she took it, her heart leaping as a bright glow shone out between them. It got brighter and brighter, and brighter even more! The ropes of shadow melted and the dark figure wailed, disappearing too, and everyone all around them cheered!
And they went back to the castle.
And- and then Isabelle showed Roxie how to ride her dragon.
And then she gave Roxie a dragon! The same one the dark figure had but good now.
And they played games a-and then they… they had a feast!
And after the feast they… they…
And…
Isabelle sighed, her head thumping back against the floor.
The clock was still ticking on the mantle.
The birds were still chirping out the window.
The sounds of her Papa working were still faintly coming from the room next door.
She was bored.
She looked around for something to do and her eyes landed on a box of cards sitting on a table under the window, and she smiled, but then she frowned.
Roxie wasn't here.
Teddy wasn't here.
James wasn't here.
She felt tired.
It was quiet.
The clock ticked, but it just made the quiet deeper.
The bird chirped, but it only helped her hear the lack of sound.
Her Papa's chair creaked next door, but it just reminded her there was no one else in the room.
She stared up at the ceiling.
She remembered Emma, from the park, probably off with her friends from school.
She didn't go to school.
She was tired.
Sometimes, it seemed like she was tired all the time.
Her throat tightened her eyes felt hot.
She was tired.
She didn't want to be tired anymore.
"Papa, why do you go to see the healer so much?"
He looked up from the onions he was chopping over to where she sat at the table, plucking the leaves off parsley.
He paused, and she waited. Looking up at him curiously.
"Do you remember when James got hurt down on the rocks?"
"Yeah," she said, frowning. "Are you hurt?"
He paused again, looking like he was thinking.
"Not exactly."
He set the knife down on the chopping board and walked over, sitting down across from her and smiling softly.
She smiled back.
"You know that some bad things happened to your Maman and I a long time ago, right?"
"In your stories?"
"Yes, in our stories."
"Yeah."
He paused.
"Well, some of those bad things can give people problems they have to deal with after they're over."
"Like your bad dreams?" she asked, confused.
His face flickered.
"Yeah, like my bad dreams," he said with a sigh, looking disappointed.
She felt bad too for a second, scared she'd done something wrong, but then he smiled again.
"Well, Dr. McGuire is helping me deal with those things, that's why I go to see him all the time."
"So you can get better?"
He hesitated.
"Some things never get better all the way," he said eventually. "But with people's help, we can make them better."
She frowned, confused, then nodded.
"Remember that, Isabelle," he said seriously, reaching forward to take one of her hands in his.
"No matter what it is, no matter what's going on around us, we can always ask for help. Even if we can't change the things around us, we can always try to be better for ourselves."
Isabelle stood.
Her chest felt tight, like it was too big to fit inside her, and when she took a breath it felt shaky and strained.
Her eyes stung and her throat hurt, but she shook her head and ignored them.
She took another breath.
"…we can always ask for help."
She walked out of the room, turning left and heading next door to where her Papa sat at a desk writing.
He looked up, seeing her standing in the doorway. He smiled, then frowned.
"Are you okay?"
"I—"
They caught in her throat, but she forced herself to talk anyway.
"Papa," she said, walking into the room with her arms held loose by her side, looking up at him.
"I miss James."
All at once, a surge of emotion came up through her and she felt frozen in place as things so strong she didn't have words for them tore through her.
And then she was being hugged.
Her Papa's arms wrapped around her from where he was kneeling by her side, her head tucked under his chin.
"I know, sweetie. I miss him too."
"I want him here," she said through her sniffles. "Or Teddy, or Roxie… someone."
"I know," he whispered, holding her close and rubbing her back gently as the feeling slowly went away.
For a minute or so, she just stood there and let herself relax into him, enjoying the feeling of warmth and safety she got any time he hugged her, but she still needed to ask him something.
She pulled back, looking up at him with big eyes, and he matched her gaze. His own flicking back and forth between hers.
"Papa, can I…"
Her voice faltered, and she swallowed thickly.
"I feel lonely, and I don't want to," she said eventually, speaking as clearly as her tight throat would allow her to and focusing as hard as she could on turning her feelings into words.
"I want friends, but I don't know how. Can you help?"
She put all her hope into the question, staring up at him in desperation as he looked down in turn. He opened his mouth and paused, his flicking over to the desk where he'd been writing, then he looked back at her and the hesitation on his face cleared in an instant.
"Yes, Isabelle. Yes I can."
He smiled, and she felt her heart soar and her own face lift up into a smile matching his.
"As a matter of fact, your Maman and I have been waiting to tell you about just the thing…"
~{}~
She looked up at the door.
Her belly was doing flips and flops, and she almost felt like she wanted to run away and hide. But at the same time, there was nothing she wanted more than to fling it open and run through.
Her Papa's hand touched her shoulder, squeezing gently.
"Come on, you're going to be just fine."
She looked around, seeing him smiling at her reassuringly, and nodded. Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward and grasped the door handle, turning it and pulling it open with a soft chime, and stepped through.
Isabelle looked around with wide eyes as she took in the small room.
There was a big window on one wall and a door on the other, and it was full of chairs for people to sit in. Several ladies were sitting in the room, one of whom looked up and smiled as Isabelle and her Papa walked in, and she felt an urge to turn right around sweep through her.
She kept going.
"So nice to see you again, Harry. And is this your little girl?"
"Thank you very much, Patricia, and yes. This is Isabelle."
Isabelle looked up wide-eyed at the lady with brown hair, but she was smiling and Isabelle felt some of her nerves melting away.
"Well aren't you just the cutest thing," the woman said, smiling and leaning down slightly so she didn't have to look up so far while her Papa stepped to the side and wrote something down on a sheet of paper by the door. "Is this your first time here?"
Isabelle nodded hesitantly.
"Well I'm sure you're going to have a wonderful time," she said sweetly. "In fact, one of my little girls is in the same class as you and she says it's amazing."
"Really?"
The woman's smile widened at the eager look on Isabelle's face, nodding as she straightened up once again.
"Absolutely. I'm sure she'd love to meet you, too."
Isabelle's heart skipped a beat, the spark of excitement she'd been feeling all day growing at last into a flame.
"They're just through there," the woman said, pointing to a second door she hadn't noticed before on the same wall as the big window. "Though you'd better hurry, class is starting soon."
"Thank you very much, Patricia," her Papa said, and she looked up at him as she felt his hand on her shoulder once more.
"Ready?"
She took a deep breath, then nodded despite her nerves, and looked back down to where she was going. She stepped forward, opening the door and stepping out into a big open room full of people. It looked a lot like the one by the park had, and her heart leapt as she remembered what she'd imagined that day and realised it come true.
"Ah, Monsieur Potter, welcome. And you must be Isabelle."
She looked around at the voice and froze when she saw the woman speaking. She was dressed in tight black clothes and had short, shiny black hair, and she looked really strong.
"My name is Madame Dubois," the woman said kindly, kneeling to speak to her directly. "I'll be your teacher while you are here with us, okay?"
"Okay," Isabelle said after a moment trying to get her mouth to work again.
The woman smiled and Isabelle smiled back.
"Do you see those two over there," she said, pointing to a boy with short blonde hair and a girl with a brown ponytail standing together across the room.
"Yes," Isabelle answered nervously.
"Good. Now, because you are a new student, I've asked them to help you settle in and get to know everyone."
"Really?"
"Oui."
Isabelle gaped at her, then looked back over at the boy and girl in wonder. She almost wanted to run over right away, but something held her back and she looked back at her Papa uncertainly.
He smiled.
"You've got this," he said, and at once she felt more certain.
"Madame Dubois, can I…"
"Of course, dear."
She took off.
Behind her, she heard her Papa and Madame Dubois start to talk about something. But in her giddiness, she didn't have a clue what they said.
The boy and the girl were talking by a row of small cubbies set into the wall, and they looked over at the same time as she got near.
A flicker of nervousness returned as she got near, and she slowed uncertainly.
"Are you Isabelle?" the girl asked.
She nodded.
"Awesome! My name's Léo Fontaine," he said, smiling and holding out a hand.
"And I'm Clémence Blanc," the girl added with a little wave.
"H-hi, I'm Isabelle Potter," she said, taking Léo's hand and giving them a shaky smile.
"Do you know where to put your things?" asked Léo.
"Or how to wear your shoes?" added Clémence
"Euh, no?" she replied, her stomach dropping as she remembered the special clothes and shoes they'd gotten the day before.
"Great!" they said, smiling. "Come on, we can show you everything."
Isabelle's heart skipped a beat as they turned, gently pulling her along and already chattering about all the cool things they'd show her and that she'd learn how to do.
Slowly, her worries melted away.
Her smile grew as they showed her her cubby, and she began asking questions after they had her put on her leotard in the changing room and showed her how to wear her shoes.
By the time the rest of the students arrived, all girls except Léo, she was shaking not with nerves but excitement. And when Mme. Dubois called them all over and had them line up in rows, she took a spot in the very front, barely able to contain her eagerness.
As the lesson began, she felt as light as air.
~~~{}~~~
Harry watched her as she took her first, clumsy steps.
She was beaming, her face practically shining with excitement even as her brow furrowed in concentration, listening hard to Mme. Dubois' precise instructions.
A wave of relief passed through him, and with it no small amount of fatigue as the weight of worry finally lifted. It had been more than a month since Roxanne left, almost a month and a half since James left for Beauxbatons, and in all that time he didn't think he'd seen her this content even once.
A not insignificant amount of guilt came attached to that idea and he let it come and go as he'd been practising with Dr. McGuire. They'd done what that could as quickly as they could do it, and it had worked out in the end.
Still…
"There's nothing quite like watching them for the first time," came a voice from his left.
"You won't get any argument from me," he said, turning to face Patricia more fully while still keeping Isabelle in the corner of his eye.
"I remember when my girls first started, cute as could be," she said with a sigh, also looking through the window. "If we could just stay like this forever, but the days slip by faster every year."
She turned and looked at him, smiling gently.
"She'll love it here, I'm sure," she said, patting his arm and smiling gently. "And remember to take plenty of photos, the moment only lasts so long."
And with that she turned and walked back to her seat, leaving him standing alone by the window.
He looked through, seeing Isabelle's smile as she practised her Plié for the first time, and smiled sadly in turn.
He watched and he waited, content with her smile as the world passed him by.
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!
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