CHAPTER 52: A CROSSROADS IN TIME

The Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, a splendid architectural marvel, was perched gracefully upon the rugged mountainside. It appeared as if it were a work of art sculpted by nature itself, nestled between the evergreen-clad slopes of its towering neighbors. Above, a pristine blue sky stretched its canvas across the heavens, basking the school in radiant light.

Fleur stood in the shadow of her beloved school, a bittersweet feeling gnawing at her. She yearned for new adventures and different horizons, and this place had become too familiar, too constricting. Drawing her wand from its place at her waist, she gracefully transformed her elegant uniform into a midnight-blue dress, her hat into a soft, white wool jumper, and her slender, half-smart shoes into something more chic and daring. She knew her sister, Gabrielle, would have to endure this school for a few more years, but Fleur was ready to spread her wings.

"Au revoir," Fleur murmured, her accent lending a touch of elegance even to her farewell. But then, with a small, decisive wrinkle of her nose, she corrected herself, "Non. Goodbye."

With the image of the entrance hall of her family home firmly in her mind, Fleur Apparated and appeared amidst a collection of her sister's shoes, discreetly tucking her own into a spare space near the door.

"Your final exam was this morning," her mother's voice floated towards her as Maman drifted in from the kitchen, her presence as elegant as her daughter's.

Fleur turned to her mother, the weight of the day's events evident in her eyes. "It went as well as I needed," she replied with a shrug, "If not quite as well as I wanted."

Maman, the lines of her face etched with the wisdom of years, smiled at her daughter's response. "Which one was it? Advanced Transfiguration and Conjuration?"

Fleur nodded. "Yes."

Her mother's smile grew. "It was never your strongest subject, but you are still exceptionally gifted in it. You have all the best parts of your Papa and me, and we're so very proud of you."

Fleur chuckled, a hint of fondness in her eyes. "Transfiguration is more Harry's gift than mine," she confessed. "I conjured a goose and turned it into a rather nice vase, which earned me good marks, but not all of them."

Maman's expression turned a tad competitive, though she tried to hide it. "He can't be better than you. Not when he's so much younger."

Fleur's eyes narrowed slightly, and a playful smile danced on her lips. Maman winced at her earlier words. "Sorry, Fleur. I didn't mean that how it sounded."

Fleur glanced at her mother with a sly look, playing the part. "Although, I do hope you and he aren't doing anything."

Maman twitched, caught off guard. "Fleur, he's—"

With a mischievous glint in her eyes, Fleur interrupted, "Not yet..."

Maman flushed slightly, her concern shifting to awkwardness. "Fleur, he's a boy, and he's..."

Fleur's innocent smile broadened. "He's... charming."

Maman sighed in exasperation, realizing her daughter's teasing nature, and shook her head, realizing she was in for some more motherly guidance with the added complexities of Fleur's emerging teenage years.

Fleur leaned in, her curiosity piqued. "How old were you when you got pregnant with me again, Maman?" she asked, her voice laced with a mixture of inquisitiveness and innocence.

Maman hesitated for a moment, her lips forming a thin line as she ventured into her memories. "Eighteen," she admitted, her voice carrying a hint of solemnity. "But just because I'm telling you to do something I couldn't manage to do, doesn't mean it's not a good idea. I was lucky with your Papa. He loved me very much, and we just started that part of our life a little earlier than we'd planned."

Fleur tucked her wand away, nodding thoughtfully. "Well, Maman, I don't intend to get myself pregnant just yet, so don't panic."

Maman's cheeks took on a faint shade of pink as she continued, "It doesn't always happen when you intend. I had every intention of applying certain spells the night you were conceived, but, as I'm beginning to suspect you already know, things like that can get forgotten in the heat of the moment."

Fleur raised an eyebrow, feigning indifference. "I know what I'm doing."

Maman's expression turned slightly wistful. "Yes, I'm sure you do. You've been bookmarking certain pages in my books since you were fourteen."

A blush crept onto Fleur's cheeks, and she muttered, "Can we not have this conversation?"

"I just want you to be safe," Maman whispered, her voice filled with maternal concern. "You're my little girl. Even though you're already better than me at nearly everything, I remember holding you when you first came into the world. You had this little tuft of blonde hair and big, bright, blue eyes. I'd never been so happy."

Fleur couldn't help but quip, "Was that before or after you set fire to Papa?"

Maman scowled, a small smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. "After. He made a joke at a very foolish moment."

With a sigh, Fleur reassured her mother, "I will be careful, Maman. We've not gone that far anyway."

Maman crooked her finger and gracefully glided back toward the kitchen. "Good. Not that you should be doing anything more than kissing him at his age," she admonished, throwing a pointed look over her shoulder. "I do not want your Papa to have to explain to the papers why his eldest daughter is in bed with someone who's legally a child."

Fleur huffed, her face coloring slightly. "We're not talking about this anymore. If you want to worry about one of us, worry about Gabby. She's bookmarked all the same pages, and she probably reads them thinking about the same person as I would if I didn't already have him."

Maman's expression softened as she considered her younger daughter. "Gabby doesn't actually have a boyfriend," she admitted, her voice tinged with a hint of relief. With a flick of her wand, she summoned a steaming white mug of coffee, the cupboards responding to her silent command.

Fleur then shared her plans with Maman, revealing a letter hidden under her jumper. "I have," she began, "I applied to join the Bureau des Énigmes, and Gringotts offered me a job checking and selling enchanted trinkets. I think some of their clients don't trust goblins."

As the conversation shifted to Fleur's future prospects and ambitions, Maman's worries about her daughter's romantic life momentarily gave way to a sense of pride and anticipation for what lay ahead.

'Gringotts?' Papa's voice resonated through the kitchen as he appeared at the door. 'That's an interesting coincidence.'

Fleur breathed a silent sigh of relief that her father hadn't arrived a few minutes earlier. Her mother's inquiries and concerns were one thing, but her father's presence brought a different dynamic to the conversation.

Maman greeted him with a warm smile, her question laced with curiosity. 'You're home early, mon chéri. Was it a particularly good day, or a particularly bad one?'

Papa shuffled into the kitchen, his tired expression hinting at the day's events. He reached for Maman's coffee and took a sip. 'A good day. There was a miscommunication with whomever was arranging the portkeys for the other heads of departments. They all ended up somewhere in Sardinia rather than in Paris, and as I was the only one in the right place, they had it without me in Sardinia.'

Maman, amused, reclaimed her coffee. 'Didn't you need to be present?'

Papa waved off the concern with a grin. 'Oh, not even slightly. I'm only the vice-président for the Bureau des Affaires Internationales. It was Henri who had to go and sort things out. I'm glad I'm not the président. He had to cancel his entire afternoon in the vineyards and hurry off to somewhere in Sardinia while I did some interesting research on English magical nobility.'

Fleur seized the opportunity to change the subject, her eyes alight with curiosity. 'Papa,' she inquired, 'What sort of research?'

Papa raised his hands in mock surrender. 'Harry clearly has little knowledge of his family and its history, he needs to know about things like this, especially as he's English. I did a little bit of investigating through the outpost of Gringotts in Paris. The only wizarding bank in England is Gringotts, so they would have the most accurate records I could easily see.'

Maman interjected, her tone cautious. 'The goblins do not share information on their clients for no reason.'

Papa hesitated, taking a cautious step back from Fleur. 'No... I may have had to follow through the first steps of legal action against him to find out what I wanted.'

Fleur's reaction was swift and fierce. Feathers burst from her skin, and her anger transformed her face into a sharp beak, an avian visage of her fury. 'You what?!'

Papa winced, trying to diffuse the tension. 'I didn't take any action, and the goblins will be discreet. They simply wanted me to pay them for the information by way of acting as legal advisors for a case that will never exist. I was rather hoping that you would invite Harry here to join us. I expect he would like to learn this, and he should really be the first person I tell.'

Fleur, her anger slowly receding, relented. 'He is in school, Papa.'

Papa snorted in response. 'He's been visiting you at all hours of the day throughout your suspension, and if even a fraction of what we've read is true, then I don't think breaking school rules will upset him.'

Fleur considered the prospect, a soft smile crossing her face. 'It will be nice to see Harry again.'

With her decision made, she exited the kitchen, strolled down the hall, and retrieved an acorn hidden in her cleavage. 'Azure,' she whispered.

The acorn transformed into a mirror, and Harry's face appeared in it. 'Fleur? I was about to go to one of my classes.'

Fleur couldn't help but smile at the sight of him. 'Harry, would you be interested in a little adventure?'

'Can you come here instead? It's probably more important than some class you're already well ahead of,' Fleur coaxed, her lips forming a small pout. 'And you owe me a visit.'

Harry's eyes softened, and a subtle smile touched his lips. 'Our history teacher is a ghost, and his lessons are always impossibly dull.'

Fleur grinned in triumph. 'You will likely learn more important history by coming here. Papa took it upon himself to investigate your family.'

Harry raised an eyebrow, intrigued. 'Oh?'

Fleur continued, 'I will see you in a few moments.' She watched as he vanished, a sense of anticipation filling her.

She poked her head back into the kitchen, her voice tinged with excitement. 'He is coming.' A soft snap from the hall signaled his arrival. 'He is here.'

Harry appeared, adjusting his robes with a casual air. His magic seemed to saturate the silk like water through a sponge.

Fleur playfully teased, 'Nice try, Harry, but I can sense they're transfigured.'

Harry's smile dimmed slightly. 'Mr. and Mrs. Delacour.'

Maman acknowledged him with a gentle nod, and Papa inclined his head.

Harry's curiosity was piqued as he asked, 'Fleur told me that you'd been investigating my family?'

Papa admitted, 'My interest got the best of me. I was surprised to learn that you knew so little of your family, and I took it upon myself to determine whether or not we might discover some unpleasant surprises when you turn seventeen.'

Harry's eyebrows rose in interest. 'Will we?'

Papa shared the results of his inquiries. 'I made some inquiries through the Parisian branch of Gringotts. They were helpful in some regards, but without your presence, I couldn't discover everything I wanted to.'

Harry, now fully engaged in the conversation, asked, 'What did you want to learn?'

Fleur noticed the air of secrecy surrounding Harry's family and took his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. At least he trusts me.

Papa signaled them to follow him into the adjacent room. Harry settled on the chocolate-stained sofa in the corner, and Fleur eagerly squeezed in next to him, her legs thrown casually over his.

'Here in Europe,' Papa began, 'things are done a bit differently than in Britain. The German States, Spain, Italy, and most countries have lost the majority of the noble families that ruled in the last two centuries. Traditions and practices have moved on and been modernized. France is split, but every year a few more old laws are overturned by the growing pro-modern majority.'

Harry absorbed this information, his curiosity evident. 'I take it this is not the case in Britain.'

Papa nodded, and Maman added, 'As my husband is far too fond of mentioning, Britain has been the pre-eminent magical community for three centuries, only growing relatively stronger since Grindelwald massacred his way across the mainland.'

Harry, his interest growing, probed further. 'You're concerned about the pure-blooded mantra of some noble houses?'

The Delacours had opened a window into Harry's past, one that he had only just begun to explore, and the conversations that would unfold from here were bound to be filled with revelations and surprises.

Papa continued to explain, 'I am concerned about Britain's Dark Lord, but should he fall, then the pure-bloods will fall with him. Britain's revolution has finally come, two centuries after France's, and the effects are still felt in this country.'

Harry, sensing the gravity of the conversation, admitted, 'My family is one of the old pure-blood houses, but we're not in any way associated with the bigoted nonsense Voldemort uses to lure in followers.'

Papa nodded, understanding the complexity of Harry's family heritage. 'As a noble family in a traditionalist society, I was worried about the existence of any agreements your family might have that you were unaware of. In France, these practices have mostly died out, and those that do occur between the few surviving old pure-blood families are frowned upon. Those families are the ones that fled the disastrous attempts of Robespierre to unite magical and muggle societies under his control and survived the war that followed. They are unpopular for abandoning their country to shelter in Britain, as most of France's magical families, including mine, were created during or after that chaos and looked down on those that had not suffered as we did.'

Harry grasped the seriousness of the situation. 'I take it these agreements still exist in Britain. What kind of agreements?'

Fleur squeezed Harry's hand gently, a comforting gesture. She knew this wasn't easy for him, and the revelations were likely to be unsettling.

Papa responded, 'They do. They can often be very specific and still binding even generations after they are created.'

Maman added, 'Since you are with Fleur and my daughter seems quite determined that you are who she wants, we wanted to make sure she wasn't going to suddenly be disappointed.'

Harry, his face etched with concern and confusion, said, 'I don't understand.'

Papa went on to elaborate, 'I went looking for several types of agreements. First and foremost on my list was any outstanding, accepted offers of marriage between your family and any others. Such an agreement would prevent you from having any future with Fleur should it be valid.'

Harry's reaction was immediate. Tension coursed through his body, and he took a deep breath before asking, 'Were there any?'

Papa winced, the weight of his words evident. 'I still do not know. The goblins would not help me without personally giving proof you were involved with a member of my family.'

Harry's resolve solidified as he declared, 'How likely are these agreements? What makes them valid?'

Papa considered the question. 'Increasingly less. The old families are too closely intermarried in most cases.' He massaged his chin thoughtfully. 'They're validated in certain circumstances, usually specific to each contract. Old families often have a couple of unusual ones knocking around. The best way to check is simply to ask. The goblins have mediated such disputes for millennia for one reason or another. They will know.'

Harry's gaze turned steely, and determination burned in his eyes. 'Then I will ask. And if there is one, I will stop it however necessary.'

However necessary… The weight of those words bore down on Fleur's thoughts, conjuring images of Peter Pettigrew's burnt corpse and the ominous Dark Mark swirling in the sky above Rita Skeeter's ruined house. She hoped with all her heart that there wasn't an agreement in place. Taking away the one perfect thing from someone who had never had anything like it was a dangerous endeavor.

Papa's suggestion broke through her reverie. 'If I return with your company, the goblins will be willing to answer. You might also take the chance to learn about the state of your family's finances. It's best to keep on top of these things.'

Harry, a touch of uncertainty in his voice, admitted, 'I have absolutely no idea about any of that. I just assumed there wouldn't be anything.'

Fleur's heart sank as she sensed the disappointment in Harry's words. Mon Cœur.

Papa and Maman shared a meaningful look, and Papa began to explain, 'The Potters are an old family, though never particularly prestigious until the fourteenth century, when the last member of a very old and famous family married into their family and suddenly elevated their status. They were originally from France, but were forced to choose a new name to escape the associations the other branch of their family made in Aguilar with the Cathar movement. It was a good thing they did—'

Fleur interjected, her tone gently scolding, 'The Cathars were rather prejudicially crusaded against in France and Italy over a century or so. They were a point where muggle religion met the magical world and drew the ire of the muggle Papacy for it. It's not really relevant, Papa.'

Papa twitched but continued, 'Your family moved away and was forgotten long before the crusades of De Montfort, but they were renowned for being a neutral, conflict-wary family for many years and consequently outlived and absorbed a lot of other magical families, some of which were quite prestigious. Eventually, all the links with greater families made the Potters great too.'

Harry, realizing the depth of Papa's investigation, muttered, 'You were serious about inquiring about my family.'

Papa chuckled, his voice filled with amusement. 'I actually already knew all of that.'

Maman joined in the laughter, her tone light-hearted. 'And finally, after all these years, it's useful.'

Papa explained further, 'I have a long list of names that might yield something if the goblins are asked about their vaults, but they'll only do it if you're present and won't actually do anything but register a request has been made until you're seventeen or they get something out of it. The goblins aren't popular. They survive only by keeping a stranglehold on the wizarding economy.'

Harry considered the proposal, his eyes distant. 'So you'd like me to accompany you to Gringotts?'

Papa was about to respond, but their conversation was abruptly interrupted. A silver eagle, the height of a man, burst into the room, its wings flaring to a stop in front of Harry. Silver vapor trailed from the tips of its feathers.

Maman sat upright, her voice filled with alarm. 'Anzu...'

'There's likely nothing left.' Harry's voice resonated from the bird, as if he were at the end of a long tunnel.

Maman gasped, her voice filled with awe. 'That's your patronus?'

The eagle conveyed Harry's message, 'He suggests making a request just in case but insisting it remain a secret.'

Harry's face turned scarlet, embarrassment evident in his features. 'Yes, it's my patronus.'

Maman's eyes widened, and then she pressed her hand to her mouth to cover a smile.

Fleur sensed something more to her mother's reaction, a secret she was keeping. She narrowed her eyes, but Maman's smile only grew.

Papa inquired, 'I didn't know you could send messages using your patronus. How do you do it?'

Harry responded, 'I don't know. I suspect I'll find out sometime in the next six hours. Let's go. I need to know if anything's there.'

Fleur winced, her thoughts turning to the time-turner. I hope you're not overusing it.

She caught her mother's eye and motioned toward the kitchen, then gracefully stood and headed in that direction. Harry's fingers twitched as if he wanted to follow.

Maman remarked with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, 'We'll leave you two to talk about history. Try not to be too enthusiastic about it, Laurent. These are the only conversations that explain how my youngest daughter ended up like she did.'

Harry glanced at Fleur, and she reassured him, 'Beauxbatons. She's doing okay.'

Maman drifted into the kitchen, and Fleur followed her. 'What was wrong with his patronus?' she whispered.

Maman shifted her weight and then explained, 'Wrong? There's nothing wrong with it at all. Far from it.'

Fleur wrinkled her nose in confusion. 'So you reacted like that for no reason... Try again, Maman.'

Maman took a deep breath and revealed, 'Veela's origin myth is that they are the descendants of beautiful witches who were raised by Anzu, long extinct, magical birds. We then migrated through Mesopotamia into eastern Europe and spread.'

Fleur's heart fluttered with warmth, realizing the significance of Harry's patronus. A corporeal patronus was a manifestation of someone's most positive emotions. It was a touching gesture.

Papa called from the other room, 'We're going to Gringotts. Do you wish to come, Fleur, Apolline?'

Maman replied, 'Go.'

Fleur decided to have a bit of fun with Harry and playfully teased, 'Maman doesn't wish to come. I can apparate with Harry.'

Harry chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. 'It's fine.'

Fleur insisted with a mischievous grin, 'I insist.' She approached Harry, wrapped her arms around his chest, and pictured the streets of Paris.

A soft snap echoed, and they found themselves in the elegant, pale stone facades of the Parisian streets.

Harry sighed, teasing her, 'Did you have to do that?'

Fleur laughed, giving him a playful nudge. 'Yes, it was funny. I wanted to ask you a question, anyway.'

Harry, looking intrigued, urged her to ask. 'Ask away. I'm sure we have a moment while your father recovers from watching you throw yourself at me.'

Fleur rolled her eyes and playfully retorted, 'I did not throw myself at you.' She then cupped his chin gently. 'What do we do if we find out there's some contract in there?'

Harry's expression grew serious, and his green eyes frosted over. 'I will avoid setting it off.'

Fleur pressed further, her voice a soft whisper, 'And if it's too late for that? You would be legally bound, maybe even magically bound.'

The weight of the possible consequences hung in the air as they awaited their visit to Gringotts.

Harry's determination was unwavering. 'I'll find a way,' he affirmed, his gaze locked onto Fleur's. 'I'll kill them if I have to. I can't lose you. I won't.'

Fleur's heart swelled with love, and she pulled him close, their lips meeting in a tender kiss. 'We'll find a way. No more "I will," "I can't," "I won't," mon Rêve. You made me a promise. Don't break your promise.'

Harry's eyes darkened with a mix of emotions, and he whispered softly, 'You made me a promise, too. You promised you were different.'

Fleur cradled his head against her chest, her voice a gentle murmur. 'I promise. I am not like the shallow little girls. You're not my hero. I don't want you to save me, and I don't want you to vanish when I don't need saving. I. Just. Want. You.'

Their moment was interrupted by Papa's sudden arrival. 'Am I interrupting?'

Fleur playfully denied it, pressing her lips to Harry's and whispering, 'I will not. Not ever. You're mine.'

Papa suggested they continue with their plans, and they made their way to the Parisian branch of Gringotts, where an old gnarled goblin named Nagnok greeted them.

'I've returned with the aforementioned third party,' Papa informed the goblin.

Nagnok smiled, displaying sharp teeth, and ushered them into a private meeting room. 'Step this way, please.'

Papa advised Harry to be polite but firm, and the goblin handed Harry a sheet of paper listing the current contracts a member of the Potter family might be able to fulfill.

Fleur's stomach tightened with anxiety as she awaited the contents of the list. She asked, 'What does it say?'

Harry crumpled the paper into a ball and revealed the name written on it. 'Gabrielle Delacour. It seems like Gabby will get her forbidden romance after all.'

Fleur was stunned, her emotions a mix of relief, joy, and surprise. 'Gabby? How is that even possible?'

The mystery of the contract hung in the air as they prepared to uncover more details from Gringotts.

Fleur's heart clenched as Harry dropped that unexpected name. She blinked, momentarily taken aback, then caught the small curve at the corner of Harry's mouth. She couldn't help but retort, 'Idiot. I should burn you to ashes for that joke.'

'You can set fire to him later,' Papa said.

'Can I inquire about the status of my family's assets?' Harry redirected the conversation, his tone now serious.

'You may,' Nagnok replied.

Harry couldn't resist a quip. 'Will you tell me when I do?'

'I will,' Nagnok confirmed.

'Then consider that my inquiry,' Harry declared.

Nagnok delved into his case, sifting through a stack of paperwork. 'As I am not the account manager for your family and not authorized to share the explicit details without their express permission, I can only tell you that the majority of the assets your family held were liquidated by Charlus Potter to try and limit losses in the escalating wizarding war. But after his death, James Potter spent all but a small fraction of it. Since then, there have been a multitude of wills bequeathing small amounts to you and no further action required other than maintaining your trust fund.'

Harry wanted more information. 'Are there any further details you could share?'

Nagnok closed his case and snapped the catches. 'I can tell you that your trust fund cannot possibly be exhausted under any circumstances, but if you truly tried, you'd come close to wiping out half your family's remaining fortune.'

'Thank you,' Harry responded. 'I would ask that you investigate any claim I might have to these vaults.'

Papa handed Harry a paper list, and Harry glanced at it briefly before adding a single name, using his wand as a quill. Fleur couldn't help but be impressed by the charm Harry cast to write on the page.

Nagnok reviewed the list and remarked, 'There's almost no assets attached to these names, little more than an unpaid dowry and its interest.'

Harry used his wand to disintegrate the list into dust. 'Make sure that inquiry remains discreet. I'd prefer that nobody learns of it.'

Nagnok, his sharp-toothed smile intact, acknowledged, 'I understand, Mr. Potter. It might cause a bit of a stir.'

As they left the bank, Papa's frown deepened, and he couldn't help but express his surprise. 'Which family did you add? I'm sure I didn't miss any.'

Harry glanced around, his voice low and secretive. 'Slytherin.'

Papa came to a sudden halt in the middle of the street. 'That's not mentioned in any of the books.'

'I have good reason to believe it,' Harry murmured. 'Very good reason.'

'Parselmouth,' Papa muttered. 'The Daily Prophet mentioned it, but I assumed it was simply more rumour-mongering.'

Fleur huffed. 'It was one of the few things that they got right. Shall we go back before Harry is recognised?' She jumped at Harry and wrapped her legs 'round his waist.

He caught her 'round the small of her back, then slipped his hands down to her thighs.

'That's me throwing myself at you,' Fleur whispered, apparating them back.

They collapsed in the entrance hall, Fleur still wrapped around him.

'How do I always end up on the bottom?' Harry's muffled voice drifted up from beneath her cleavage.

'I'm sure you didn't mind that much.' Fleur leant back, then hopped to her feet.

Maman won't like seeing me straddle him after our talk this morning. She fought a pout. Who cares how old he is? He's mine and that's all that matters.

"I couldn't breathe," Harry confessed, his voice weighted with the memory. "But there are certainly worse ways to meet one's end." He rose from his seat, brushing dirt and leaves from his clothes. "I should probably head back to school soon; curfew will be starting."

Maman cautiously stepped out of the kitchen, her presence bringing an air of warmth to the room. "It was wonderful to have you here, Harry."

Fleur, always the provocateur, couldn't resist a sly smile. "You know, Harry, you could stay until morning. Who'd ever know where you were or what you were up to?"

Harry's face flushed, caught off guard by Fleur's playful suggestion. She locked eyes with him, a mischievous pout on her lips, and he quirked an eyebrow in response. Fleur bit her lip and gave a suggestive wiggle, all while watching Maman's reaction closely. Maman's lips pressed into a thin, tense line.

Flustered, Harry turned toward Maman. "Well, if everyone's in agreement, I don't see why not. I'll just need to Apparate back briefly to send a Patronus message." He glanced up and down the hall and managed to summon a bright, cheerful smile. "I can do that now."

With a soft snap, Harry vanished. In his place, Papa appeared with a loud crack, his nose buried in a well-worn, brown-covered book.

Maman glanced past Fleur's shoulder at Papa and crossed her arms, her expression stern. "Laurent?"

Papa looked up from his book, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Yes?"

Fleur thought of the simmering tension between her parents and couldn't help but push the boundaries a bit. She summoned a subtle, warm enchantment, allowing her face to shift slightly, and her eyes darkened in color. "Try it, Maman."

Maman took a deep breath and began carefully, "Fleur would like Harry to stay the night."

Papa, seemingly unfazed, nodded in agreement. "Seems fine. We've got enough space."

"Laurent!" Maman's tone was sharper now, her arms tightening.

Papa looked at Fleur out of the corner of his eye, his nose wrinkling in understanding. "He is quite young, Fleur. But I must admit, I often forget he's only fifteen."

"Laurent," Maman hissed, emphasizing her point.

Fleur decided to take a more direct approach. "I have plenty of room for him right next to me. And if that's not enough space, I'm sure Harry can make some for me." She met her parents' gaze with unyielding determination.

"Right..." Papa sighed and straightened himself. "We had this conversation when you were much younger because, well, pretty girls tend to attract a certain kind of attention, and we've always wanted you to be safe. Frankly, I'd hoped we wouldn't have to revisit this topic."

Fleur raised an eyebrow, her expression aloof. "I haven't forgotten it, and I certainly haven't forgotten what age you two started at."

Papa winced. "Yes, you're right. Well, I suppose it's okay for you two to share a bed, but I don't want to hear about any, um, activities until he's older."

Fleur shrugged nonchalantly. "You won't. My room is well warded; no sound is getting in or out."

Harry reappeared by the shoes, looking a bit anxious. "Was everything okay?"

Maman dropped her arms and reassured him, "It's fine, Harry. You're family."

Fleur took Harry's hand and hurried him up the stairs. "Come on, before Maman changes her mind."

Harry inquired, "Do you have a spare room I can stay in? I mean, you do live in a chateau."

Fleur feigned innocence and replied, "Non."

"No spare rooms? Really?" Harry paused and studied her door. "Isn't this one yours? It looks familiar..."

Fleur smirked and pushed her door open. "No spare rooms, mon Cœur."

Harry froze, then managed a half-smile. "You don't snore, do you?"

Fleur sensed his nervousness and hid her smile, leading him into her room and shutting the door behind them. She tapped her wand on the lock, causing it to emit a soft glow. "My parents probably won't come in, but Gabby might forget to knock."

Harry glanced at the shimmering door handle and mustered a faint grin. "You've trapped me again. Is there a specific word that will let me out?"

She smirked, her eyes twinkling. "There are no words that will get you out of here, mon Cœur. You're mine."

Harry grinned and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Not even 'I love you'?"

Fleur's heart fluttered. "That's a good start." She slid her hands into his hair and pulled his lips to hers. "Say it again."

His lips curved into a smile. "Not until you say it back."

Fleur pouted. "You know I love you."

"I like hearing you say it," he murmured as she toyed with the buttons of his shirt.

"I love you," she whispered in his ear. "Now, let me show you just how much."

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