Nothing is mine.

Normally, I don't apologise for short scenes, because scenes are as long as they need to be to make the point, short or long, but this is just half a scene because of FFN content guidline rules, so this one I do apologise for being super short, the rest of it's on my website of course! And I'll still the linktree at the bottom to make it easy for anyone who wants to hop across.

Across the Nightingale Floor

The rain drummed down on the thin tiles, pouring from the roof and pattering on the worn marble steps of the forum; it gurgled into the gutters, swirling away down into the drain.

Fleur lowered her wand and let the fatigue seep deep into her, leaving her legs leaden and stiff.

'Sarcelle.'

She twisted on her heel.

'Sarcelle…' Isobel Dufort stood in the downpour, the golden fleur-de-lis upon her blue robes sticking to her chest, long golden hair plastered to her head. 'You slip in. You slip out. You don't come to talk with your sisters—'

Heat bubbled in Fleur's bones. 'I had a sister. One sister.' Wisps of steam rose from her loose dark robes and her skin prickled with feathers. 'No others.'

Colette and Céline drifted out from under the columns.

'Sister,' Céline murmured, resting a hand on Isobel's shoulder.

'We asked Desrosiers.' Isobel's sharp grey eyes roved over her. 'She has not spoken with you since Violette vanished. She has no way to even contact you. Only Grise, it seems, knew your identity.'

'And us, sister,' Colette said. 'We know too.'

'What are you doing when you are not involved with the wards?' Isobel demanded. 'Are you looking for a way to get to Henri?' She exchanged a glance with her sisters. 'We will help.'

Céline nodded. 'We will go instead, because—'

'You have to look after our goddaughter,' Colette said. 'And the wards are more important than our constant presence here.'

Isobel nodded. 'Our boys can hold the line alone for a short while if need be.'

'You will go and save him?' Fleur snapped. 'From Grindelwald?'

'While one of us lives, none of us can die,' they murmured.

'It doesn't matter who tries,' Isobel whispered.

'Or why,' Colette said.

Céline stared up into the rain, her grey eyes full of fierce light. 'We are inseverable.'

A sharp pang tore at Fleur's heart at the three of them standing tall side by side and her fingers crept to the hole in her earlobe. Gabby, I miss you. It is not fair.

'Why?' Fleur asked. 'What is it you want from him? For him to come fight Grindelwald with you and die a hero for France?'

'La Belle France demande,' they murmured.

'But no.' Colette shook her head. 'He reminds us of ourselves.'

'Nearly a decade ago.' Isobel's fingers crept up to the red scar running across her neck. 'When we were ripped apart.'

Fleur stuck her wand back into her robes. 'If I find a way, I'll tell you.'

Isobel smiled. 'Merci, Sarcelle.'

'Be careful,' Céline said. 'If you are hurt… or your daughter…'

Colette took her sisters' hands in hers. 'Some people are not meant to be torn from each other. And if they are…'

The three of them exchanged a short glance.

Isobel's smile faded to a sombre grim stare. 'Be careful.'

'I am not the reckless one of us.' Fleur swept her hair back over her shoulders and turned her nose up. 'And when I have my husband back, I will make sure that nothing ever separates us again.'

Not even these three new Katies who might tempt him to be more than just this invisible hero he now wants to be.

Fleur dipped a hand down the front of her robes and curled her fist around the acorn. 'Argent,' she whispered, appearing before the browning leaves of the willow tree; heat flashed through her thumbnail.

The black silk whispered in the autumn wind, rippling over the Mirror of Erised.

She skirted the edge of the pensieve and swept the veil aside.

Katie beamed back from beneath the glass, squirming around in Harry's arms and grabbing for her with both hands.

'Salut, mon Poussin,' Fleur murmured, offering their daughter a small warm smile as she babbled under the silver surface. 'Maman est là, ne t'inquiète pas. Soon you will come back to us.'

And then there will be nothing to worry about.

Katie's small fingers stretched toward her, her bright green eyes darkening. 'Papa,' she mouthed, straining against Harry's arm.

'Your papa is distracting himself with an impossible project, mon Poussin,' she said. 'But this is good, non? He is not fretting about what he cannot remember while he thinks about that. He is very bad at waiting for good things to happen, but when you are reborn, that will be everything. He will know for sure it worked then and everything will be how we dreamt it would be.' Fleur glanced back over her shoulder at the pensieve. 'He will never remember giving up on his love for us within that ritual. And he will never realise I put him back in another pensieve time-loop for an instant to relive his recovery from being so scrambled when Hedwig brought him back to being mine again.'

To him, it is one straight line from waking up beneath the willow tree to escaping the ritual. He does not know he has lived it twice. He does not remember the oblivion of the ritual. She drew herself up and took a deep breath. He will never know.

'Au revoir, bébé.' Fleur picked the soft, smooth black silk up from the white pebbles at the foot of the mirror and draped it over the reflection of their daughter. 'I hope Gabby's magic fades and you come back soon...'

She apparated back into their bedroom, ignoring the wash of warmth through her thumb.

Harry sat on the carpet, surrounded by a spiral of pieces of parchment covered in patterns of purple runes; a bright red rose fluttered above his clenched fist as he stared down at the fading willow inked beneath his thumbnail, a sharp glint in his green eyes.

He has been planning his distraction. Fleur glanced at the runes as she stepped forward. But these are just bits and pieces of the design, and whole arms of the spiral are still missing.

'Fleur,' he breathed, twisting around and sweeping the pieces of parchment up into a stack. 'You're back. Did you see my sisters?'

'They are doing fine.' She watched him gather the stack up in his arms and tuck it under their bed. 'You have been busy?'

'I had some ideas while you were away.' Harry pushed himself to his feet. 'Still a few things I need to work out, though.'

'And you created another rose for me.' She took the green stem in her hand, brushing her thumb across the curving red thorns as she lifted it to her nose and breathed in the soft sweet scent of the crimson flower. 'Merci beaucoup, mon Amour.'

You still love me just like before, non? Fleur slipped the flower into her hair, ignoring the sting of the thorns against her ear. It's only when I'm gone that you start to fret and think about this project of yours.

'Close your eyes, mon Cœur,' she said.

So I will give you something to think about instead.

Harry closed his eyes. 'Am I about to be set on fire?'

'Non,' Fleur murmured, pulling her wand from her waist and dropping it on the end of their bed. 'Just keep them closed. No cheating.'

She slid out of the loose, dark unspeakable robes and unclasped her bra, slipping her arms through the straps and dropping it to the floor. Cool air washed across her skin as she swept her silver hair back over her shoulders.

Hmmm. Fleur pushed the hem of her underwear down an inch to bare the red rose tattoo on her hip. Parfait.

'Now you can open your eyes,' she said.

Harry's gaze dipped down to the tattoo and slid back up, lingering on her breasts; he swallowed hard, sending a little heat fluttering through Fleur's tummy. 'Where did all your clothes go, mon Ange?'

'On the floor,' Fleur murmured, taking a small step toward him and catching his lips in a soft kiss. 'I'm still wearing your flower.' She shot him a little smirk. 'I am your flower, non?'

'The most special flower…' Harry's kisses turned hot and hungry against her mouth.

'Should I keep the flower on, then?' Fleur whispered in his ear as his lips trailed little kisses down the side of her neck. 'Would you like that?'

'Definitely keep the flower.' His warm hands rested on her hips, his thumb brushing across the rose tattoo and slipping under the hem of her underwear. 'I don't think we want to keep these, though.'

'Non.' Fleur let him ease her back; her thighs pressed against their bed, her heart racing in her chest. 'Those need to come out of the way or off.'

Harry tugged them down. 'Off, I think.'

AN: It's a linktree: linktr . ee / mjbradley