CHAPTER 28: SUMMERTIME SOLITUDE PART-2

"Salazar is likely to be quite displeased. He probably thinks I got devoured by some creature," Harry remarked wryly.

"Oh! You're alive. I extend my deepest gratitude, the only surviving member of my lineage, for your thoughtful visit to inform me," Salazar retorted, dripping with sarcasm. "Your consideration truly warms my heart."

Harry couldn't help but grin. "I was merely recuperating from my encounter with Voldemort, you senile piece of artwork."

"What happened?" Salazar inquired, his tone now serious.

"The third task proceeded as planned. I summoned fiendfyre once I had maneuvered deep enough into the maze to remain undetected, and no one seems to suspect my involvement in the maze's destruction," Harry explained. "However, the other champions were eliminated by one of Riddle's servants, allowing me to reach the Triwizard Cup and be transported to Voldemort. It turns out that he was behind my name being entered into the Goblet of Fire. His followers manipulated the events to ensure I ended up with him, using the trophy as a portkey. He then revived himself using my blood before I managed to escape."

"Your blood?" Salazar's eyes sharpened. "That is a troubling revelation."

"Yes, it is," Harry confirmed. "I had the same feeling at the time."

"Do not mutter, boy," Salazar snapped, tapping his wand against his chin in thought. "The protection your mother's sacrifice offered you remains intact. Magic like that cannot be erased. It's possible that a bond of sorts has formed between you and Voldemort. He cannot undo the blood magic your parents used, but he has co-opted its protective power for himself by using your blood as his own. He is shielded, much like you were, though the specifics of this protection are unclear. It could safeguard him from your actions or the consequences of his own actions against you. I do not possess that knowledge."

"There's also some mention of a prophecy," Harry added. "Voldemort referred to it."

"You must find the prophecy and discover its contents," Salazar insisted, his tone resolute. "If Voldemort is aware of its contents, it may very well shape every move he makes against you. We cannot afford to remain ignorant of it."

Harry shrugged, a sense of helplessness washing over him. "I know next to nothing about it, Salazar, just that it exists and mentions me."

"Find out about it," Salazar snapped, a hint of impatience in his voice. "Someone must possess knowledge of this prophecy; a prophecy cannot be foretold without a witness."

"I'll do my best to find out as soon as I can, but during the summer break, I'll be out of contact with the wizarding world until the new term begins," Harry explained.

Salazar's eyes bore into Harry's. "Why? What could possibly keep you occupied for that long? Are you on some kind of crusade?"

Harry grimaced, shaking his head. "It's the same every summer. I can Apparate here, but going anywhere else would raise suspicion, and I don't want to draw unwanted attention, especially with Voldemort's return." Dumbledore was right about that, Harry acknowledged.

Salazar threw his hands up in exasperation, his snake painting falling to the floor. "This is precisely why I advocated for the school to admit Muggle-born students full-time. They're left behind, cut off from the world they rightfully belong to by their own families." His painting's wand emitted a cascade of silver sparks. "But no, Godric the Righteous couldn't bear to separate families. He thought it was better to let them go back home, to be shunned or persecuted."

Harry's thoughts drifted to Tom Riddle and the ordeals he must have faced as a young Muggle-born wizard. "Just like Tom," he mumbled, a fleeting memory of brown tiles flashing before his eyes. "I imagine his love story didn't fare much better than Romeo and Juliet," he added with a scowl, recalling his own failed romance with Fleur Delacour.

"Did you at least win the Triwizard Tournament?" Salazar inquired. "You seem rather upset for someone who didn't lose."

Harry shook his head. "I didn't lose."

"Well, at least you've proven that girl from the other school wrong," Salazar remarked as he gathered his snake painting and arranged it around his shoulders. "I hope you had a chance to speak with her."

Harry sighed, a sense of longing in his voice. "She returned to France before I woke up," he said, gazing at the bookshelves that flanked the door. "I suppose I should head back to Privet Drive."

"I suppose that means you're about to leave?" Salazar inquired.

Harry nodded. "Yes, my aunt and uncle have likely convinced themselves that I've met an untimely demise, so it's probably best if I make an appearance before they burn all my belongings," he said with a mischievous grin. "They're going to be so disappointed when I Apparate right in." He relished the thought of their impending fury.

Salazar's emerald eyes softened. "If it becomes unbearable, remember that you can always return here through the chamber."

"This is going to be the best summer yet," Harry mused. "I need to catch up on everything I missed in my classes due to the tournament. And Ollivander was kind enough not to place the trace that prevents me from using magic in the summer without detection."

Salazar's laughter had an icy edge to it. "I hope your Muggle relatives understand how different things are going to be."

Harry smirked. "I think they'll figure it out soon enough."

"Now?" Salazar asked. "What about your things?"

"I only need my wand. Hedwig is clever enough to find her way to me, and I have all the books I could possibly need in here. I'll just Apparate back when I require something."

"It's quite a long trip just for a book," Salazar chided, a playful glint in his eyes. "You might risk splinching yourself again."

Harry shrugged. "It'll be good practice for me. And someone has to come back to ensure you haven't tried to vanquish that snake."

Salazar locked eyes with the serpent. "I can't kill it. I've tried." The snake stuck its tongue out, playfully tickling Salazar's nose. "An irritating creature," he muttered, turning back to Harry. "Just remember that you'll need to clean up the colossal mess you created on your first visit sometime soon."

"I didn't make a mess!" Harry protested.

"Tell that to the seventy-foot corpse you've left here all these years," Salazar muttered. "Fiendfyre should take care of it. Now, get out. I'm in need of a nap."

Harry rolled his eyes, visualized the Dursleys' backyard, and apparated away. A loud shriek of surprise and the sound of shattering glass greeted his arrival.

"Hello, Aunt Petunia," Harry greeted them with a wide grin, giving a cheerful wave. "Hello, Uncle Vernon, Dudley... I'm back."

Uncle Vernon's face cycled through every shade of red known to humanity before transitioning to an unsettling shade of purple. Harry's grin widened; he was going to savor this moment.

"Where have you been, boy?!" Vernon's bellow reverberated across the garden.

"The neighbors, Vernon," Aunt Petunia hissed, her voice laced with fear. "Keep your voice down!"

Vernon swallowed hard and turned an odd shade of puce. "And how dare you appear like that."

"I was in the hospital," Harry replied coolly, letting a hint of chill creep into his voice. "I truly appreciated all your visits and kind words, by the way. They touched me right here." He placed his hand over his heart for dramatic effect.

"Don't take that tone with me!" Vernon staggered to his feet. "You can't do anything freakish now, boy! Go to your room, change into normal clothes, and then we'll discuss your behavior. I won't tolerate—"

Harry pressed the tip of his wand into Vernon's jowled cheek just below his right eye. A bright, cold, green light flickered around the slim piece of ebony. "Oh, please do carry on, uncle," Harry taunted. "Don't let me interrupt you. You were saying something about intolerable behavior, I believe?"

Aunt Petunia froze, her mouth agape like a goldfish, while half a sandwich tumbled out of Dudley's mouth. A strangled whimper escaped from somewhere beneath Uncle Vernon's mustache.

"I'll assume you've finished," Harry said calmly. "Now, when an underage wizard performs illegal magic, a letter arrives to inform them of what they've done and what will happen next. Observe."

He transfigured the remainder of Dudley's sandwich into a cobra. Aunt Petunia and Dudley screamed and scrambled off the patio onto the lawn. The Egyptian cobra extended its hood and hissed menacingly at them. Harry spread his hands and then pointed to the sky.

Several minutes dragged by as the snake wreaked havoc on the table, sending neatly arranged triangular sandwiches and Aunt Petunia's famous homemade coleslaw spilling onto the ground.

Harry couldn't help but grin. "Oh, look! No letter..."

Vernon's face drained of color, leaving him as pale as a sheet.

Harry banished the snake with a flick of his wand. "I'm going to my room to change. Please remember that demonstration for the future." He allowed ice to creep into his eyes and voice. "I'd hate to have to make this point a second time. Cobras are rather venomous, and something might go terribly wrong..."

He strode back into the house, ascended the stairs, opened his wardrobe, and transfigured the first pair of Dudley's cast-offs into something that looked more like clothing a human being would choose to wear.

Hedwig perched on his desk, a folded, manila envelope beneath her talons. Panic shot through Harry. "Oh no. Did Ollivander lie to me?"

He took a deep breath, trying to quell his anxiety. "No, Hedwig wouldn't deliver Ministry warnings. They have their own owls."

Carefully, Harry unfolded the envelope. A single line of writing accompanied an animated pencil sketch. It depicted a willow tree bending over a bend in a rippling river, its branches gently swaying in the breeze.

"Eleven o'clock on the day you receive this, or the first afterward," Harry read aloud. "The word is argent." He swallowed. "That sounds French, even in my head." He flipped over the picture, but the back remained blank. "Fleur?" Hope wrestled with his doubts but refused to be smothered. "Or perhaps Voldemort has decided to adopt a green agenda and changed the Dark Mark into a tree, I suppose," Harry quipped, though his heart raced.

An odd yearning welled up within him as thoughts of Fleur's face swam through his mind. "And yet, I'm probably going," he sighed. "She definitely did something to me with her allure. Definitely."

He tapped the envelope against his palm and cast a quick tempus. "Well, go on. Don't keep a lady waiting, Harry." With a deep breath, he said, "Argent."

But nothing happened. The walls of Harry's bedroom remained as they were.

"Argent," Harry pronounced with a more pronounced French accent.

With a gentle jolt, he found himself pressed against something warm and rough. The leaves of a willow tree cascaded around him, and the river's bend rippled over pebbles at his feet. Harry tucked the envelope into his pocket and kept his wand ready.

"You're early," a soft, French-accented voice floated down from above.

Harry's heart skipped a beat. It was definitely Fleur.

A quiet thud resonated behind him. "I said eleven," her voice came from over his shoulder. "You're fortunate I come here frequently; otherwise, you'd have been waiting."

"I think I could've survived. It's a beautiful spot," Harry replied, forcing himself to turn as she stepped around the trunk.

Fleur's bright blue eyes bore into his. "You owe me an explanation, Harry Potter. I didn't set fire to those hedges, I didn't navigate through the maze all the way to the center, and I certainly didn't place a curse capable of killing anyone who attempted to harm me."

The tree trunk pressed against Harry's back, its bark digging into his shoulders. "That might have been me," Harry admitted. "I didn't want to leave you to whichever of Voldemort's followers might have been lurking."

"So you carried me all the way across the maze to the wards instead?" Fleur's eyes sparkled, and she took a step closer. "Gabby has a theory as to why you might have carried me all that way instead of simply sending up red sparks, as you must've done for Cedric Diggory."

Harry gulped, his stomach knotting and coiling into a tight, hot ball. "Is it an interesting theory?" His voice cracked, betraying his anxiety.

A nearly predatory gleam flickered in Fleur's sapphire-blue eyes. "I think I would very much like to know if she's right," she said, placing her hands on either side of Harry against the willow's trunk. "So, why did you?"

The words of the truth nearly tumbled from his tongue. The allure of the Veela blood was a powerful force, and he had to fight to keep it at bay. Harry focused on his circle of dark ink, pulling it into the midst of his thoughts. "You made a portkey," he said, letting the ink blot swell and consume the memories of the last time she had been so close to him, allowing the emotions to fade into the stark, dark ink on pale parchment.

"They're easy to make," Fleur replied with a nonchalant shrug, tilting her chin upward. "It will take you back, but that requires a different word than the one that brought you here."

Harry couldn't help but laugh. "You've trapped me. I did suspect it might be a trap, but I didn't quite expect to be ensnared by you."

Fleur's expression remained unwavering. "I will give you the word once you answer my questions."

"Questions? I thought there was only one?" Harry inquired.

"You're avoiding it," Fleur said, a small, warm smile curving onto her lips. "So I thought we might as well start with the easy ones and work our way up to it."

Harry swallowed hard, wiping the sweat from his palms onto his jeans. His pulse raced, and his heart pounded against his ribs. "Sounds like a good idea, I suppose."

Fleur fixed her gaze on him, her blue eyes piercing. "Why didn't you try to speak to me after the Yule Ball?"

"You avoided me," Harry retorted, his posture rigid. "You used your allure on me, kissed me, then refused to speak to me for almost two months. I thought you wanted to be my friend, but you just wanted to know how to beat me."

A faint flicker of emotion passed through Fleur's eyes. "It wasn't my allure."

A touch of ice tightened in Harry's chest. "Yes, it was! After the Yule Ball in the Room of Requirement, when you wanted to test my resistance. I felt it, Fleur."

"You called me beautiful," Fleur said, her lips drawing a little closer to his. Her eyes sparkled with mirth, inches away from his. "I remember."

Harry couldn't help but feel that Fleur knew something he didn't. He attempted to take a deep breath but inhaled the sweet, sharp scent of burnt holly and decided to hold his breath instead.

"You used your charm on me," he said, his voice firm. "It worked, and then you kissed me and left."

"I'd had a bit too much wine," Fleur admitted, her smile never wavering. "I was feeling reckless, and I'd never kissed anyone before. I couldn't use my allure to make you think I was beautiful, Harry, not even if I tried. It's a compulsion to impress, to desire, to want, nothing more."

Harry couldn't recall any sudden compulsion to impress her. "I didn't feel any overwhelming desire to impress you."

He saw the next question looming in Fleur's eyes. "Why did you avoid me?" he asked, unable to contain his curiosity any longer.

"I had a lot of things to think about, and most of them were about you," Fleur admitted, a hint of a pout touching her lips. "You're very difficult. You don't chase after me like all the other boys, not even when I wanted you to chase after me so you'd actually speak to me."

Harry struggled with the knot in his chest, pushing it down before it could strangle him. "I thought you just wanted to win. I thought what I felt was your allure."

Fleur's eyes shone as she asked, "What do you feel?" Her silver hair cascaded over her blue irises like shimmering silk, spilling over Harry's collarbone and tickling his skin. The scent of sharp, sweet marzipan lingered in the air.

All the air seemed to vanish, taking Harry's words with it. Each time he tried to speak, they evaporated off his tongue, leaving him breathless and wordless.

"I won't give you the word to go back until you answer," Fleur said, her voice trembling.

Harry desperately clutched for words, but they eluded him, vanishing on his lips or sticking in his throat. He didn't know how to describe what he felt.

The bright glint in Fleur's eyes began to fade, replaced by tears welling up in their place. She drew back slightly, and in response, Harry wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer. The heat of her body against his skin was like a touch of summer sunlight.

"Is that your answer?" she whispered, brushing her hair from between their faces. Her hands slipped to his shoulders.

Harry shook his head. "No."

Just do it, he urged himself. She did it. You can do it. His hand slid from the small of her back to the base of her neck, and he pressed his lips into hers.

.

Fleur's lips curved into a smile, her hands sliding up into Harry's hair, and she pressed herself firmly against him. Every curve of her body molded against his, pushing his back into the tree. Her tongue tasted of marzipan, leaving a sweet tang along his upper lip.

Suddenly, Harry found himself gasping for air. He leaned back, breathless. "I... I need to breathe."

Fleur's laughter sent his heart racing again. "That was a good answer," she murmured.

"Was Gabby right?" Harry asked.

Fleur managed half a scowl before her smile returned. "She won't let me forget it."

"Good," Harry said, grinning. "I don't want you to."

She kissed him once more, nipping at his lower lip with her teeth. "You won't get the word for the portkey until I'm satisfied."

The bottom dropped out of Harry's stomach. 'What happened to me only being fourteen?'

'Almost fifteen.' Fleur smirked, then laughed and kissed him again. 'It doesn't matter, I stopped thinking about your age a while ago, but this isn't where we're having our first time. It looks uncomfortable.' She cocked her head. 'I'm not the sort of girl who wants to rush into that anyway.'

Harry's gaze had briefly wandered down Fleur's neck, his mind dancing with tantalizing images. Not a single seashell bra to be seen.

Fleur raised an eyebrow. "You know, normally, I don't like it when boys stare, but yours feels rather good."

Harry quickly averted his eyes to her face. "Sorry."

Fleur chuckled softly. "Don't be. You're different from them."

Harry kissed her forehead and leaned his head back against the tree trunk. "How is this going to work? You'll be in France. I'll be in Britain." His thoughts were filled with Voldemort's crimson eyes, Dumbledore's blue ones, horcruxes, prophecies, and Death Eaters.

Fleur's fingers trailed lightly over Harry's cheek. "We'll figure it out," she whispered, her voice soothing. "For now, let's just enjoy this moment, Harry. The future can wait."

Harry couldn't help but wish that all his troubles could simply disappear, but he quickly swallowed that bitter moment of longing. Wishes like that rarely came true.

"You can come visit me," Fleur murmured into his neck, her eyes closed. "Use the portkey. I will make one for myself, and then we can both come here whenever we can."

"For the rest of our lives?" Harry asked.

A slight pout curved her lips. "Until we think of something better. Or maybe I'll just not tell you the word to send you back to Britain and keep you here with me. Gabby would like that; she'd find it very romantic."

"You'd kidnap the Boy-Who-Lived?" Harry asked with a chuckle.

Fleur grinned. "Nobody would ever look for you here in France. If you wanted, you could disappear and stay with me."

"I have to finish school, and that's the least of my worries," Harry replied, thinking of the many challenges that lay ahead.

"Voldemort," Fleur muttered. "We've heard the rumors, even if your ministry denies it."

Harry kissed her cheek and grinned. "I'll make a plan. He'll be defeated, I'll get wonderful exam results, win the house cup, and be in complete control of my life for the first time."

But deep down, he knew there was no simple plan. It was just Fleur, a prophecy, some horcruxes, Dumbledore, the Ministry, Voldemort, and whatever else tried to get in their way.

"I will help," Fleur declared. "I have only six more months at Beauxbatons left if my exams go well, then I'm applying for a job with the Bureau d'énigmes. It will not be easy to get in, it takes years sometimes, but hopefully, I will be able to work with the most complicated enchanted things in existence. Other things do not interest me yet, and my family is wealthy enough. In the meantime, I shall help you however I can, and you'll come and visit me."

Harry was about to ask how she planned to help when Fleur placed her finger on his lips and shook her head. "Non."

He couldn't help but smile, realizing that now was not the time to worry. Harry kissed her fingertip and let the warmth of the French sun and Fleur's presence soak into him. He had freed himself for moments like this, and he couldn't afford to waste or lose them.

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