CHAPTER 36: LOVE UNVEILED IN PARIS

Golden sunlight filtered through the rustling willow leaves, casting dappled shadows upon the tranquil river below. The gentle breeze plucked a handful of these leaves, and they embarked on a serene journey downstream, their final destination the pristine, white-pebble beach at the river's graceful bend.

Fleur reclined gracefully along the familiar branch, one that held a special place in their hearts. She idly twirled the acorn pendant of her necklace between her delicate fingers, the subtle warmth of the morning sun caressing her face. But her contentment was soon disrupted by the abrupt rustling of the Daily Prophet that she had tucked under her arm. The younger visage of Harry Potter stared back at her from the crumpled pages.

Fleur's eyes fixed on the hollow and distant expression in Harry's eyes. She reached out a slender finger and traced it delicately down his cheek, her thoughts wandering to his state of mind. Her gaze then shifted to the headline that accompanied his image: 'Boy-Who-Lived Attempts to Curse Fellow Student Over Quidditch Incident.'

Her delicate brows furrowed in disbelief. Harry, the kind-hearted and noble Gryffindor, would never resort to cursing someone over a mere quidditch accident. The article itself only deepened her sense of astonishment. It was about a sixth-year student named Katie Bell, and Fleur could feel the heat rising within her, almost as if a magical transformation were stirring in her very bones, and feathers were pushing through her skin. The contours of her face shifted slightly, and her hands radiated warmth as if in preparation for something extraordinary.

"Katie Bell!" Fleur exclaimed, her voice echoing with concern and disbelief. She took a moment to steady her breathing, reminding herself that there must be a reasonable explanation for Harry's alleged actions.

With a sense of trepidation, she turned her attention back to the paper, flipping through the pages to find the next article. A vibrant image of Katie Bell, with her tousled brown hair and sparkling eyes, smiled back at Fleur. "Mon dieu! Mon dieu!" Fleur muttered to herself in French, her heart heavy with concern. "Pourquoi s'est-il mis en colère contre cette pauvre fille? Est-ce qu'il l'aime toujours?"

Fleur's features contorted with a rush of scalding emotions. A curved beak emerged from her nose and chin, her transformation revealing her Veela lineage. The Daily Prophet in her hands burst into flames, the fiery tendrils consuming the paper. She watched as the ashes fluttered gently from the branch and dispersed into the river, carried away by the breeze.

Her anticipation of Harry's imminent arrival battled with the intense turmoil within her. She suppressed the surging heat, feeling her facial features return to their human state and the feathers of her arms recede beneath her skin. "He had better have an exceptionally compelling explanation for losing his temper over that girl," she thought fiercely.

Fleur took a deep breath, stifling another wave of heat, her expression now filled with determination. She muttered to herself in a low, ominous tone, "And if you don't, mon Cœur, I will make you pay, and then we shall engage in a very prolonged discussion." The gravity of her words hung in the air as she reclined on the branch, closed her eyes, and let the soothing sound of the willow leaves rustling in the breeze carry her away from her turbulent thoughts.

A faint sound, like a snapped twig, pierced the serene ambiance beneath the willow branches.

Fleur's eyes snapped open, and she gracefully descended onto the white pebbles below. Heat once again coursed through her bones. "Bonjour, mon Cœur," she greeted Harry, her voice a mixture of concern and frustration as she drew closer to him. Small, pristine white feather tips peeked out from beneath her skin as her transformation receded. "Que voulais-tu?" she asked, her eyes now gleaming dark as obsidian.

Harry winced at her transformation and the intensity of her emotions. "You're angry," he whispered, almost apprehensive.

She met her reflection in his eyes, her irises like pools of midnight. "Of course I'm angry," she replied with exasperation, her gestures exaggerated. "You impaled that Malfoy with four-inch ice spikes! Et pourquoi? Katie Bell!"

Harry shook his head, his expression earnest. "Fleur, I would've done it for anyone, I promise."

"You promise," Fleur repeated, her eyes aflame with the heat that welled up from her very bones. Her lower lip trembled as she grappled with her turbulent emotions. "How do I know?! I am here, and you and her are over there. Together!"

Harry winced at her words, struggling to find the right response. "Fleur..."

She pressed a finger to his lips, silencing his attempts to explain. "Non. If it were me who got hurt, what would you have done, Harry? And don't lie."

Harry turned his gaze towards the sky, a mixture of regret and sincerity in his eyes. "I didn't mean to hurt him, you know. I just wanted to shut him up and get him out of the way. I was angry, and that affected my water-conjuring spell." His eyes met Fleur's, their depths now as cold and unyielding as agate. "If it had been you, I would've killed him." A glimmer of worry flickered in his eyes. "I know it might not be what you want to hear, but I'm not some jack-in-the-box hero who emerges to save the day, only to be packed away until the next crisis."

Fleur's heart twisted at his admission. "And I'm not just a pretty face, mon Cœur. I face my own dragons."

Harry's lips twisted in uncertainty. "So, you're not angry?"

Fleur shook her head, her earlier anger now quelled. She grabbed Harry by his robes and leaned in close. "But if you give me a reason to think you're running around with Katie Bell behind my back…" Her fingers traced a teasing path along his jawline, reveling in the shiver that coursed through him. "I do not like how fiercely you defended that girl. You're mine."

"Katie's just a friend," Harry protested. "I—"

"I'm not going to abandon you, mon Cœur," Fleur interrupted, her tone firm. "Not now, not ever."

Harry's eyes searched hers, and he hesitated. "Not even if I told you what I've done?"

A knot of unease coiled in Fleur's abdomen, but she met his gaze with unwavering determination. "As long as you're my Harry, I won't care."

He pulled her close and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Definitely yours, ma princesse."

"Vraiment?" Fleur's voice quivered as she looked up at him, her doubts giving way to hope. She huffed playfully at his small smile and then playfully stamped on his toes. "Vraiment?"

"Vraiment," he affirmed. "I got myself entangled in other people's unfair and selfish expectations not so long ago. Now, I'm free of that. There are billions of individuals out there striving to achieve their desires, and you're the one I want." He slipped a finger under her chin, tilting her face up toward his. "And you're what I want."

Fleur's heart danced with elation. "And what would you do to get that, mon Cœur?"

A faint smile graced the corner of Harry's lips. "Anything I had to." He leaned in, resting his forehead against hers, their breaths intermingling. "You're the one perfect wish that came true. Nothing else is worth a fraction of you."

Perfect. As always. Warmth flowed through Fleur's chest, enveloping her in a comforting embrace.

"Then you'll be more careful next time you want to curse someone, won't you?" Fleur teased gently. "You can't come to visit me if they lock you up in Azkaban, Harry."

He responded by pressing his lips to hers, his hand slipping to the back of her neck, drawing her closer. "I was afraid that you wouldn't understand," he murmured.

Fleur held his face in her palms, gazing into his eyes. "Do you think I'm so different? Gabby is the one who believes in things like this. I gave up a long time ago. Until you." She playfully pouted. "And now look at me, planning the rest of my life with some English boy."

Harry's eyes held a teasing glint. "Isn't it a little early to say things like that? We've only been together for a few months."

Fleur leaned in, her nose brushing against his, her voice carrying a sultry tone. "Are we going too fast for you, Harry?" She began to pull away.

Harry, however, captured her lips in a passionate kiss, pressing her back into the warm embrace of the willow's trunk. His hands tangled in her hair, then drifted to her hips and cupped her waist. Their bodies pressed together, and a fiery longing coursed through her veins.

He eventually pulled back, his voice husky. "Still want to stop?"

A soft, involuntary moan escaped Fleur's lips, and she flushed deeply.

Harry chuckled, his eyes smoldering with desire. "That was a very sexy moan. Are you sure this spot's too uncomfortable?"

Fleur responded to Harry's soft kiss and allowed the fire in her blood to subside. "Yes," she replied, resting her arms over his shoulders. "Now, I want to see what you can do. The Daily Prophet spent so much time talking about this dark curse you used; I want to see it for myself."

Harry smirked, his eyes alight with a playful glint. "I have a better idea. You know how to duel, don't you?"

Fleur sniffed, feigning a haughty demeanor. "Of course. I am the school champion."

He laughed. "Of course, you are. Want to try me?"

"You will lose," she confidently retorted. "I am a skilled duelist."

Harry wagged his finger at her. "I need practice. But you should know better than to tell me you'll beat me. You said you'd win the Triwizard Tournament, too."

Fleur's expression softened with a touch of wistfulness. "I would've done it if Voldemort's follower hadn't interfered." She took his arm and apparated them back to the chateau, where they appeared amidst Gabby's scattered shoes.

Harry inquired, "Are your parents home?"

Fleur shook her head. "Not today, not until late. There's an event in Paris they're attending together." She took his hand and led him around the main staircase to a smaller, less-traveled set of steps, which led them down to the basement.

"Do you have a dungeon?" Harry quipped with a grin. "Please tell me you do."

Fleur chuckled. "No, but we have a basement that is partly a wine cellar and partly empty. Maman used to brew potions down there, but when they expanded the shop in Carcassonne, she no longer needed it. Gabby and I use it occasionally, typically for practicing magic, since it's well warded."

Harry's eyes gleamed with excitement. "What are the rules?"

"Normal dueling rules," Fleur replied, her confidence unwavering.

Harry raised an eyebrow, indicating his curiosity about the rules, and Fleur couldn't help but be amused.

"Nothing more dangerous than a stunner, no stepping out of the ring, and no speaking except for spell incantations," she explained, setting the guidelines. "But first, I want to see the curse you used on Malfoy."

With a gentle tug, Fleur led Harry down the steps and into the basement, where an earthy, musty scent filled the air. The walls were lined with racks of wine bottles, giving the place a unique ambiance.

Harry glanced at the wine and raised an eyebrow. "What about the wine?"

Fleur pointed at the small door at the far end of the room. "We are going in there."

She shut the door behind them, ensuring the expensive vintages of wine remained undisturbed. Her father's wrath at damaged wine was not something to be trifled with. He got very angry—very, very angry.

Fleur's tone grew insistent. "Show me. You wouldn't show me the fire one, so you have to show me this one."

Harry straightened, adopting a serious and focused expression as he drew his wand from his sleeve. Fleur couldn't help but laugh. "I hope that's not your dueling face, mon Cœur."

Harry flashed her a confident grin, twirling his wand like a conductor's baton. "Aguamenti!"

A small stream of water burst from the tip of his wand and splattered on the floor. Fleur instinctively reached for her wand. "Show me, or I'll curse you."

"That's the spell I used, I promise," Harry assured her, his gaze steady.

Fleur pouted, her desire to understand his magic evident. "Then stop being difficult and show me what you did to it."

Harry couldn't resist teasing her. "What will you do if I don't?"

"I'll tell Gabby about the photos in the Room of Requirement," Fleur promised, her tone determined. "She will pester you about it every time you see her until the end of time."

Harry's complexion paled slightly, and he hesitated for a moment. Then, with a sigh and a trace of frustration, he closed his eyes and turned away from her. The ice began to creep back into his expression as he muttered, "Aguamenti."

A torrent of water sprayed across the room, sharp chunks of ice smashing against the sandstone and shattering like glass.

Fleur gazed at the jagged ice fragments on the floor, her curiosity piqued. "How did you do that? That's a simple conjuring spell, not a curse."

"I told you. I was angry," Harry explained.

She approached the pile of sharp fragments, poking them with her toe. "I've never seen anything quite like it."

"You haven't?" Harry frowned.

"It's brilliant. Dangerous, but brilliant," Fleur acknowledged, her tone admiring. "I don't know why your emotions have so much more influence over your magic, but I'm not going to duel you seriously until you can control that. It's not safe."

Harry nodded and stowed his wand back in his sleeve. "Then we'd best not duel."

Fleur's curiosity persisted. "When does it happen?"

Harry sighed and confessed, "When I'm angry. I don't know why it happens. It doesn't happen much—just a couple of times."

Fleur couldn't help but think how much Harry's attitude resembled her father's protective streak. "He's as bad as papa."

"Let's go somewhere," Fleur suggested, wanting to lighten the mood. "Somewhere nice."

Harry's interest was piqued. "Where?"

"I know a place in Paris," Fleur suggested. "But we need to go kidnap Gabby first."

"We do?" Harry's smile returned, and Fleur couldn't help but notice.

Oh, smile away, because Gabby's going to come and help you tease me. A slight pout curved Fleur's lips. It's a good thing I met you when I did, or Gabby might've really stolen you first.

"I promised her that we'd go there with her," Fleur explained. "It's our favorite place, and she's been lonely at Beauxbatons with me always coming to see you. I made her promise to be good, or as good as she can be, at least."

Harry chuckled. "How are we going to kidnap her?"

Fleur revealed a portkey she had made for herself, waving it at him. "Madame Maxime lets me do what I want, within reason. She might chide me for stealing my little sister away, but only because I forgot to ask first."

Harry questioned, "Doesn't Beauxbatons have anti-portkey wards?"

"Of course, it does," Fleur confirmed. "Only someone keyed into the wards can create a portkey to the school."

Harry raised an eyebrow and nodded, clearly impressed.

Fleur huffed playfully. "Aren't you going to ask me how I did it?"

A mischievous grin lit up Harry's face. "How did you achieve this most brilliant and noteworthy accomplishment, ma princesse?"

"I created my own ward key from scratch," Fleur replied, her tone tinged with pride. "It's the sort of thing that gets you into a lot of trouble, then gets you a very well-paid job in a very particular part of the government."

Harry pulled out his necklace. "A shame this one's wasted on me, then. I portkey to and from outside them anyway."

Fleur smiled. "Fortunately, my enchantment hasn't been wasted on you. I can't create a key for Hogwarts wards without spending a lot of time there figuring them out."

Harry linked his arm with hers, and Fleur nodded. "Let's go."

With a soft murmur, she activated the portkey by saying, "Argent."

They arrived in a small room adorned with shelves of books and an array of glittering trinkets. Silver and blue blankets adorned the bed, and a colorful assortment of pillows created a cozy atmosphere.

Harry's smile was radiant as he pointed at a photograph on her bedside table. "I remember that picture."

Gabby waved at Harry from within the frame, and he waved back. Fleur's image in the photograph gazed at Harry with a quizzical expression, her lips curved in a half-smile.

"Where's your sister?" Harry inquired, his enthusiasm filling the room. "Do we have to sneak through Beauxbatons?"

Fleur nodded. "Well, if we were anyone else, we could just walk, and nobody would think twice. But since you're famous and I am who I am, it's best to disillusion ourselves."

Harry chuckled. "Will she scream if we grab her while we're invisible?"

Fleur explained, "Not anymore. She's used to it. If she knows I'm coming, she'll feel for my magic and grab me instead."

"Does she know we're coming?" Harry asked.

Fleur shook her head. "Not this time. Follow me."

Taking Harry's hand, Fleur led him out of her room, ensuring they were both under the disillusionment charm, and walked down the corridor in the direction of Gabrielle's favorite spot.

Harry whispered, "I prefer Hogwarts. Beauxbatons is beautiful, but it doesn't quite seem as magical."

Fleur countered playfully, "You are a biased, tasteless English boy, though. Beauxbatons is far more elegant and just as magical. Hogwarts is grey, draughty, and has that horrible forest."

Harry squeezed her hand, his laughter muted. "You haven't seen half of the horrors of that forest."

The image of the burnt skeleton amidst the pine trunks and needles flitted briefly before Fleur's mind's eye. "I've seen enough."

She pointed toward the door at the far end of the corridor, where they stood hand in hand. "Gabby's out there. The door leads out over the buttress to a small balcony; nobody else ever goes there."

Fleur gently eased the handle open, and the door let out a loud creak.

Gabby's head snapped around in a swirl of silver hair. She squinted her eyes and remarked, "Fleur! And you brought Harry. I can only see where Fleur is."

"Hello, little chick," Fleur said, allowing her disillusionment charm to dissipate and pulling Gabby into a warm hug.

Harry, who had faded back into view, greeted her with a smile. "Gabby."

Gabby pouted, curious. "You were right next to Fleur. Why couldn't I see you?"

Harry explained, "The disillusionment charm works better for me."

Fleur added her own insight, saying, "Our magic battles with the intent of the charm. The allure requires us to be seen to work best, so it draws attention to us."

Gabby asked cheerfully, "Why are you here? Am I being kidnapped again?"

Harry turned to Fleur with a raised eyebrow. "This is a regular thing?"

Fleur chuckled and replied, "Beauxbatons is boring. I always get Fleur to come and rescue me and take me somewhere more fun. Normally, we go to Carcassonne or Paris."

"Paris," Fleur confirmed, tousling Gabby's hair. "We're going to your favorite place in all of France."

Gabby's eyes sparkled with excitement, and she grabbed Fleur's hand with one of hers and Harry's with the other. "Let's go! I've been craving meringues all day."

Fleur gently untangled Gabby's grip from Harry and linked her arm with his. She leaned in to murmur in her sister's ear, "Do you remember your promise?"

Gabby sulked for a moment. "Of course I do. No trying to charm Fleur's boyfriend; she gets overly tetchy about it." A mischievous glint shone in her blue eyes. "You never made me promise not to tell what you said about him."

Fleur warned, "I made you promise to be good. If one word of the things I said about Harry comes out of you, I'm going to burn every pair of shoes you own."

Harry interjected, "Are we going?"

Fleur and Gabby shared a conspiratorial look, then Fleur nodded. "We're going. Paris awaits."

"We're going," Fleur declared, and side-along Apparated them onto the cobbles of Paris, right in front of a quaint little restaurant.

Gabby was excited as she announced, "Welcome to Madam Antoinette's. It's got the best desserts in all of Paris and most of France. We've checked."

A small, stout man wearing a chocolate-stained chef's coat glanced up at their arrival. There was a hint of glaze in his eyes as he greeted them, "Mademoiselles Delacour. Bienvenue. Your usual table is free."

Gabby beamed and darted to a table at the back, eager to get to the sweets.

Harry, a bit puzzled, asked, "I thought this was Madam Antoinette's?" He accepted the menu Gabby thrust at him.

Fleur explained, "It's a very bad joke. The owner is muggle-born and doesn't realize that most wizards won't understand. Of course, he does make wonderful food, so we have forgiven him."

Gabby pouted and exclaimed, "They're out of meringues. I shall have to have Clafoutis instead."

Fleur rolled her eyes, amused. "How terrible for you, Gabby. Stuck eating your favorite cherry dessert."

"I wanted meringues today; they're sweeter," Gabby protested.

Harry raised an eyebrow, curious.

Fleur smiled and clarified, "It's not a veela thing, just a Delacour one." She turned a pointed look on her younger sister. "Gabby is the worst of all of us."

Gabby objected, "I am not. Everyone knows Fleur is the worst. She once ate a whole box of icing sugar in the middle of the night."

Fleur smirked. "I remember having a significant amount of help eating that."

Gabby blushed but quickly retorted, "You have honey for breakfast."

"Many people eat honey for breakfast," Harry remarked.

Gabby couldn't resist gloating as she chimed in, "Fleur eats it out of the jar, with a tablespoon."

Harry chuckled and agreed, "That is unusual. I think Gabby might be right."

Fleur shrugged and teased, "You should be grateful for my love of sweet things, Harry. If I did not love dessert wine so much, our evening at the Yule Ball might've ended very differently."

Harry blushed. "True."

Gabby couldn't contain her curiosity and blurted out, "Fleur?! You didn't?!"

Fleur feigned ignorance, asking, "Didn't what?"

Gabby shifted in her seat and glanced at Harry, her mischief apparent. "You know..." Her eyes sparkled with amusement, and her flush intensified.

Harry's embarrassment flared, and he admitted, "She kissed me under the mistletoe, then she ran away."

Fleur protested, "I did not run away."

Gabby was delighted, her face beet red behind her menu. "Fleur?! You didn't?!"

Harry grinned, thoroughly enjoying the playful teasing. "Definitely. Has she done that before?"

Gabby giggled, "Not with a boy. But whenever she was in trouble when we were younger, she'd always run off and then pretend she'd done nothing wrong."

Fleur countered with a half-hearted glare, "Better than giving maman the big eyes and blaming me, little chick. I got blamed for everything by this tiny harpy. Don't trust her, Harry. She's a greedy little bird."

Gabby tried to pout but ended up laughing too much to manage it. "Fleur's only being mean because I told her if she didn't want you, I'd have you. I think she's worried I was being serious."

Harry laughed and winked at Gabby, saying, "Well, if you change your mind and decide you are serious, Gabby, you just let me know."

Fleur, however, wasn't going to let that pass without a playful threat. She huffed and crossed her arms. "We both know I am perfect for you, Harry. You'd never leave me for another girl." She smiled sweetly at him. "And if you did, especially for my little sister, I would burn you to ashes."

Gabby sighed. "Just like in maman's books about Aimé."

The chef approached their table, a small book in hand, and asked, "Mademoiselles? Monsieur?"

Fleur placed their order, saying, "Clafoutis, trois, s'il vous plaît." She shared a knowing smile with Gabby. "We need to teach you some good taste, Harry. I've eaten English food, and all the good bits were stolen from other countries. Clafoutis is a good place to start."

Harry teased, "If Gabby will share it, that is."

Gabby chimed in, "Gabby doesn't share cherries. But Fleur made me promise to be good, so this one time I'll make an exception."

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