AN: I've been missing in action for a while, life has that way of getting in the way. I have been trying to put a lot more time towards writing as possible. Because of that.

I've decided to create one of those pages. You know, the P atreon. o_O I hope some of you will be willing to support me. There is a nice little perk for the top tier as well. My page is Office_Sloth.

In other news, I've heavily gone over the older chapters of this story, with significant edits in the first ten.


TWENTY ONE - Realisations


Harry unscrewed the cap of his water bottle and sat down against the side of No.4 Privet Drive. He'd just finished taking care of the Dursley's garden and had worked up a bit of a sweat. He looked at his watch and found he still had enough time to shower and relax before he'd be leaving for Fleur's. With a slight groan, he stood and finished his water before heading around the house to enter through the back. He kicked his shoes off and left them there to prevent himself from tracking dirt into the house.

He stepped inside the house and appreciated the fact that his uncle and cousin were gone for the day. Something about a minor league boxing match they'd gotten tickets for. His aunt had no interest in such a violent sport and was instead lounging comfortably with a cup of tea, watching one of those baking shows where ordinary people were pitted against one another in one or other ridiculously themed challenges.

She was so absorbed by the feverish activities on the screen that she barely spared him a glance, which oddly was how most of their interactions had gone since he'd returned. As far as he could tell, there was no clear reason for the sudden display of abrupt apathy.

"I'm going to take a shower; someone will be by later to pick me up." He didn't wait for a response and climbed the stairs. Hopefully, it would be the last time he'd need to walk these steps for a long time.

Professor Dumbledore had asked him to remain at the Dursleys for at least three weeks while other living arrangements would be made, apparently it was a necessity for the wards to hold. While he'd been reluctant to agree, he'd acceded as Hermione had already left on vacation with her parents and Fleur had returned home to France to go see her family.

Any time now, he would be departing to join her for a week in France before they were joined by Hermione and her family.

Somewhere outside a car honked its horn, breaking Harry's concentration. He frowned at the distraction; it didn't help that he'd been scratching his head for the last few minutes as he stared at the diagram in his book. The explanations beneath were so terribly worded that it was a challenge to simply make sense of it all. If there was one thing wizards excelled at, it was to needlessly convolute things.

He sighed, leaning back on his chair, tilting it, and balancing on its back legs. A pleasant breeze blew through his open window, which made him close his eyes and take a deep breath. The clock had been moving excruciatingly slow since he'd come to his room. It always did on the days he was scheduled to leave. It was its own kind of agony.

*Shatter*

The sudden sound of glass breaking caused him to lose his balance with the chair and fall. He groaned as he got up and rubbed the back of his head. His chair scraped on the floor as he lifted it.

He sighed. It was only a matter of time until his aunt called him to come and clean whatever mess she'd just made, so he may as well preempt her and head downstairs. He glanced at his wand which was on his desk and pocketed it with a forlorn sigh as he recalled a conversation he'd had with Madam Pomfrey right before leaving Hogwarts.

"Wait, Ma'am, so once I'm fifteen, I can use magic?" he asked excitedly, as he held up the piece of parchment his teacher had given him.

Madam Pomfrey smiled at her student. "What? You thought being able to function as an apprentice required Hogwarts attendance?"

"So that means we'll be continuing?" It was more good news as far as he was concerned.

"After your birthday, until then, I want you to enjoy the summer."

Harry descended the stairs without any urgency, expecting to find a broken plate or shattered glass ready for him to collect and clean up. What he did not expect to find was his aunt with her hand over the kitchen sink and a bloody towel in the other.

"What happened?" he asked, quickly making his way over to her, and taking the towel to inspect the wound more closely.

"I—I uh, cut my hand," she answered, seemingly caught off guard by his intense approach.

"Ah," he winced at the deep cut in her palm. It was long and deep enough that were one to treat it the muggle way, stitches would definitely be needed. If he were allowed to use magic, he'd have it cleaned and closed in an instant. But there was an alternative he could use.

"The first aid kit is in the corner cabinet," said his aunt.

"I have something better, if—if you don't mind, it's… you know."

Aunt Petunia remained silent, with an odd expression on her face. She eventually gave him a small nod without meeting his gaze. "Alright."

Harry hastily retrieved a bottle of Murtlap Essence, which his aunt eyed sceptically when he poured it into a bowl.

"Soak your hand in this," he instructed, handing her the bowl.

His aunt appeared both reluctant and curious, she recoiled slightly before touching the Murtlap Essence, as if it would burn her.

"Relax, it's not going to hurt you…"

She met his eyes with a defiant glare, daring him to call her scared, before she hmphed and placed her hand in the bowl. While she didn't outright say it, he could see the release of tension in her posture and face. One of the benefits of using Murtlap was its soothing nature.

While his aunt soaked her hand, he got around to cleaning the broken glass that was on the floor. After a few moments he heard a soft, "Why?"

"What?"

"Why did you?—" She gestured to the bowl with her free hand and the odd liquid within.

After Harry carefully collected the sharp pieces of glass, he threw them into the bin and looked up pondering his response. "There's no reason not to."

His aunt looked at him as if seeing him for the first time.

"How long do I? " she nodded towards the bowl.

"Oh," he realised. "It should be done by now." It was a simple cut, not a cursed wound, so the essence would be fast acting.

She slowly withdrew her hand from the bowl and stared in amazement at the spot where the horrible cut had been and where only a thin white line remained. She rubbed at the soft skin as if unable to believe her eyes.

While she did that, Harry stepped away from her to clean the few plates and cups that were waiting to be washed. It would only annoy him if he went back upstairs only to be called down for them after a while. He'd just finished drying a glass with a cloth and reaching up to pack it away in its cabinet when his aunt seemed to have overcome her astonishment and spoke again.

"What happened to your arm? The scars?"

At first he thought she meant the scar on his head but when he followed her concerned gaze, he realised that he'd rolled up his sleeves and exposed the web of thin scars from the first task, when he'd overpowered the lightning summoning charm.

"Oh, these—It's nothing," he deflected and slipped the sleeves back down again.

"Scars are not nothing!"

"Please– Leave it." While he didn't yell, his words were harsh and firm.

The sound of sloshing water and clinking plates filled the silence for the several moments before Petunia spoke again.

"Nothing's changed, has it?"

Harry kept his head down, his grip hard on one of Uncle Vernon's whiskey tumblers, the sight of it brought memories of the harder days, the rare occasions where amber fluid filled the glass.

"No… nothing's changed."

His aunt's next words were quiet in a way he'd never heard before.

"I—Harry—What will it take?"

"I don't know." And he was telling the truth.

The silence returned to fill the heavy air. Harry placed the last of the now dried dishes in the cupboard and was about to excuse himself when there was a knock at the front door.

"I'll go get that," he said, more to get away.

"Professor Dumbledore?" Harry had almost forgotten that someone was meant to pick him up.

"Harry," he greeted.

"Please, come in, sir."

"Thank you, I meant to arrive sooner but I was held up at the Ministry."

The wizened old man barely set one foot over the threshold before the both of them were interrupted by Harry's aunt.

"You," she spat the word with disgustful vitriol, the change a stark contrast to the pensiveness she'd shown before. "What are you doing in my house!"

Professor Dumbledore eyed his aunt frostily. "Hello, Petunia. It's been a long time."

"Leave, get out!"

"Harry, why don't you get your things, we're strapped for time. I'll just need to have a word with your aunt."

Harry eyed the man carefully, a bit surprised that the headmaster seemed to be a familiar face to his aunt, but then again, it wasn't too outrageous for them to have met before. "Sure, I'll be right back."

It took him a few minutes before he had his things packed in a mokeskin bag. He'd wanted one ever since he'd seen Madam Pomfrey's during their trip to St. Mungo's and had splurged a bit when he'd taken the opportunity during the Summer to visit Diagon Alley.

Hedwig sat patiently on the windowsill as she watched him move around the room, making sure he hadn't forgotten anything. When he finished, he grabbed his owl treats and fed one to her before stroking the soft feathers on her head.

"You go on ahead to Fleur," he said, prompting Hedwig to nip his finger affectionately before taking off. He closed the window behind her and picked up his bag, stringing it over his shoulder before leaving his room.

When he descended the stairs again and stepped into the living room, he expected to find his aunt to have returned to her old unpleasant self. He did not expect to find her sitting down with a big glass of water clutched in both her hands, trembling albeit barely. Professor Dumbledore had a serious, but wry expression on his face as he stood in stoic silence.

Whatever the headmaster had wanted to discuss seemed to be over and done with. There were no more words being spoken between them, both simply waited in still patience. The entire scene was so far off from what he expected, that he couldn't do much else other than pause.

But his appearance was not left unnoticed, his aunt lifted her head up and met his gaze. Harry was shocked to find her eyes marred by grief? resignation?. She didn't speak, only tightened her grip on the glass in her hand.

"I— informed your aunt that after we leave here today, it is very unlikely that you will ever be returning and that she and her family would have eight months, perhaps a year before the protections that have kept them safe all these years ceases to be."

"We—I'm leaving, for good?"

Professor Dumbledore nodded once and offered a warm but cautious smile. "I'm going to have to apologise for ruining the surprise, but I believe there's a mutual friend of ours with a rather scruffy coat who's looking forward to having you live with him."

Harry couldn't hold back the joy that welled up inside of him. "Does that mean, he's—you know—"

"Not yet. While Cornelius is nothing if not obstinate and will do his best to protect his and the ministry's reputation as infallible, I believe tomorrow's news may just force him to acknowledge the truth."

"Tomorrow's news, sir?" Harry parroted.

"The ICW has declared Sirius innocent. Rather ironically, it was our Minister's own actions that convinced them to hear his case."

Harry blinked in confusion, as Dumbledore continued.

"While a grave injustice, his case may be, a 'supposed murderer' would not be enough to fall within the purview of our highest courts. Were it not for the international attention brought about by the fiasco that was the overzealous public manhunt and the outrageous use of dementors on school grounds, they may very well have refused."

Goosbumps travelled up his spine at the mention of the ghostly creatures. "Uh, I'm glad some good came out of it…"

"Twenty years…" interrupted Aunt Petunia softly from the side, returning their attention to her. "This is my home; you can't just ask me—us to leave. Where would we even go?"

Harry couldn't help but feel guilty at rejoicing while his aunt was in such a state. He fought the urge to offer her words of comfort and instead decided to look away. Dumbledore noticed his momentary struggle with a proud gleam in his eyes before his features hardened to address Aunt Petunia's grievances.

"You should have thought about that before you mistreated your nephew. Had you showed him the love and care as I'd hoped you would, this may have turned out entirely different. Now, as I have told you before, I will help you arrange new lodgings but I do so out of concern for Harry. It would not do for him to have your fate on his conscience."

Dumbledore sighed. "When I left him in your care, I truly believed that you would love him as if he were your own. That you would do for him what Lily would have done for your son, had been your positions reversed. But alas, despite my age, it appears naivety is a sin I still find myself guilty of on occasion."

Petunia inched lower with each word coming from his lips until her face hid in the palm of her hand. "Please. Just leave."

"Oof!"

Harry had all the wind knocked out of him as he landed on his back in a patch of soft grass. He groaned and prepared to rant about magical transportation before he suddenly found his view of the sky cut off by the silhouette of his lovely girlfriend.

"Mind stepping aside, you're blocking my view," he said cheekily, but not before admiring her in the bare-shouldered blue sundress she wore.

Fleur laughed and bent down to help him up, allowing him to see her properly. She had her hair loose but arranged to fall in soft attractive waves that moved ever so slightly in the gentle wind. A thin silver necklace adorned with a sun-yellow gemstone hung around her neck, the precious stone placed just low enough to help draw attention to her perfect cleavage.

The corners of her lips tugged up when she noticed the way his eyes dipped. "No 'ug?" she teased, prompting him to wrap his arms around her waist and pull her in closer. He let out a content sigh as he breathed in the scent of spring flowers and citrus before leaning down and capturing her lips in a smouldering kiss.

"I've missed you."

She smiled against his lips, allowing him to slip his tongue in, drawing a moan from her that sent shivers up his spine.

"I'd ask you to show me 'ow much you miss me," she peaked over his shoulder, "but ma sœur est très impatiente."

The sound of giggles emanated from behind him. There was only one person it could have been, and he discovered he was right when he let go of Fleur and turned around to find Gabrielle.

"Salut, Gabrielle," he greeted warmly, and was rewarded by the younger girl hugging him.

"Hey, 'Arry! I can't believe you're going to be staying with us. Did you bring me anything? Chocolate frogs?" she asked in hurried French.

He paused as he mentally translated it to English. He'd been gradually learning the language bit by bit for months now but was far from being even remotely fluent.

"You're glad I'm a chocolate frog?" he replied confusedly.

The musical laughter that followed his butchering of the French language told him all he needed to know.

Fleur, who had watched and witnessed the brief exchange from behind Harry, kissed his jaw just beneath his ear. "Your accent is cute, but zhat is not what she asked." She took a moment to quickly explain where he'd misunderstood.

"Ah, I did," he said, and Gabrielle grinned, but it quickly became a pout when Fleur said something to her.

"I told 'er to wait until after we eat, ma mere is making 'er favourite."

He chuckled softly. "I am rather hungry, I haven't really eaten since this morning."

"Zhen come inside, I'll show you your room and zhen we can 'ave lunch." Fleur took his hand and led him up the path towards the 'humble' mountain cottage that was her home. It was a beautiful, rustic two-story building, raised up higher than the surrounding grounds with a dark wood porch, a little garden out front and a cobblestone pathway.

"It's so beautiful here," said Harry as a warm breeze rustled leaves and carried the scent of the countryside. "Very scenic."

"Zhis is your first time abroad, oui?"

"Yeah, I've always wanted to, but you know…"

Fleur frowned and squeezed his hand gently. "Zhen it is a good zhing zhat you are never going back to zhose people."

Harry noticed the rows of grape vines behind the home. "Oh, didn't you say once that your mother makes wine?"

She covered her mouth in embarrassment and laughed. "Oui, I did, but I wouldn't call zhat wine. It's terrible."

He snorted. "I should have read between the lines then, you did say that she doesn't sell much."

"Mhm, to be really 'onest. I zhink zhe men come more to see my mozher zhan zhe wine."

"Understandable," he sniggered.

"Quoi? Are you saying she is beautiful? Should 'Ermione and I be worried?"

He tugged her closer until their shoulders were touching as he replied with a mischievous grin.

"You think I have a chance?"

She pretended to ponder the question as they arrived at the door to the cottage. She pushed it open. "Non, she does not like zhe scruffy."

"What don't I like?" asked Apolline. The older Delacour had stepped into the room just in time to hear Fleur's words.

"Non, nozhing maman.

"Bonjour, Mrs. Delacour, thank you so much for having me," greeted Harry warmly, as Apolline came in to hug him. She kissed both his cheeks in the way the French loved to do.

"De rien, it's nozhing. You love my Fleur and she loves you, and after what you did for my family, you will always be welcome 'ere."

"That means a lot to me, thank you so much," said Harry, and he meant it.

"Bien, now sit, I made basquaise." She led Harry to the dining table to where Gabrielle had already made her way.

He glances around the dining room and notices the absence of a few he expected to be present. "Where's Sirius?"

"Wizh mon père," answered Fleur as she sat down beside him. "Zhey are at zhe ministry."

"Oui, zhey should be 'ere very soon," said Apolline as she placed a serving dish of something that smelled lovely. It was chicken from what he could see.

She flicked her wand and a few more dishes floated in and landed softly. It always amazed him how casual experienced witches and wizards were with spells that he had struggled with not that long ago.

"If zhere is one zhing all zhe ministries 'ave in common, it is zhe paperwork."

It was as if the subject of their conversation had heard them, as right then the front door opened and in came Alain, followed by the one person Harry had been looking forward to seeing almost as much as Fleur.

"Sirius!" Harry stepped up from the table and hugged his godfather. He managed to greet Alain as well, albeit far more casually.

"It's good to see you with my own eyes," said Sirius who immediately noticed Harry's raised brow in confusion.

He chuckled and explained. "Quite literally, you see. It's different when I'm Padfoot, colours are all wrong."

Nodding to the brief elaboration, Harry moved to the essential news he was interested in. "Are you staying here, then?"

"No, no," Sirius replied with a wry line to his lips, "the French ministry provided me with a small flat, perks of being an asylum seeker."

"But it sure beats the shrieking shack at least?"

"That it does," Sirius remarked, patting Harry on the shoulder, "honestly I can't believe how much everything's changed in a year."

"Believe it," said Alain. "From what I've seen and heard, things are going to keep changing."

"Shame it isn't all for the better," sighed Sirius. "Fudge has been giving Dumbledore no short amount of grief. It's being kept out of the papers, but the old man has been trying to get the minister to bring the department of law enforcement up to standard. After you-know-who's recent attempt to come back, Dumbledore is certain that he will find a different way, and soon."

"I've met my fair share of ministers and some are fools and others are a menace. Fudge is both, a foolish menace, I swear," commented Alain.

"Enough you two, keep such talk away from zhe dinner table," scolded Apolline as she retrieved a bottle of wine.

Sirius groaned loudly. "I wish I could stay but I have a portkey to catch."

Harry gave him a questioning look. "But you just got here. Stay, please."

"I know, I desperately want to stay," Sirius admitted and placed his hand on Harry's head to ruffle his hair apologetically, "but Dumbledore's going to call an emergency meeting of the Wizengamot once the news breaks tomorrow. This is our chance; I need to do this perfectly."

"Will it be safe for you over zhere?" added Apolline worriedly as her gaze went back and forth between the two.

"It should be absolutely fine. Even Fudge, in spite of his devious streak, would not be stupid enough to risk making a move," assured Alain. "The scrutiny coming from the international community aside, he'd alienate a large portion of his own government."

"Precisely," confirmed Sirius. "An official declaration from the ICW goes a long way in convincing the public that I'm innocent. While there were always members of the Ministry and the Wizengamot who could be trusted to do the right thing, it was too dangerous to approach any of them for help."

"Until now?"

Sirius grinned at Harry. "Yes, and even better yet, I won't even have to do any convincing. It's almost merely a formality now. I've just got to attend the final verdict and 'stick the landing', as the muggles like to say."

"Besides," he continued. "It gives me a few days to get the house in order, before you come back."

"The house? What house? You've got an actual house?"

"Of course, I may be a dog animagus but I'm not an animal. It's my family's home, the ancestral estate" Sirius grimaced. "It's not the most pleasant place, it's rather grim actually, but I hope to change that. Make it someplace you'd actually want to live."

"Sounds brilliant." Harry couldn't help the joy that welled up within him. It was one thing to hear that Sirius wanted to live with him from a third party like Professor Dumbledore, but it meant so much more to hear it from the man himself.

Though he was dejected that his godfather had to leave, Harry was comforted by the fact that it should only be for a few days before they'd be able to see each other again. He walked Sirius to the door where he wished him luck and they parted, before returning to the dinner table.

"Now, 'Arry, 'ave you 'ad wine before?" Apolline enquired eagerly with an open bottle in her hands.

Fleur nudged his foot, wordlessly confirming his assumption it was one of her own. The looks of amusement on Alain face only reinforced this. Gabrielle was too preoccupied with her lunch to pay them any attention.

"I haven't, no."

"Zhen what a perfect opportunity to develop a taste for it," said Apolline, excitedly as she quickly poured him a glass of a dark red wine.

He lifted it and his first thought was that it smelled far stronger than the stuff his aunt and uncle would sometimes drink with their dinner. He took a far too big of a sip and the intense flavour filled his senses, it was a bit sour and slightly burned his throat. Fleur was right. It tasted terrible. He was almost proud of himself for how well he masked his dislike for it and pretended to enjoy it.

"It's quite nice," he lied.

"Merveilleux! Zhen you must 'ave some more!" To his horror, she topped up his glass before he could refuse.

Terrible wine aside, they had a lovely lunch. The basquase was a very tasty tomato-based chicken stew. Harry had eaten enough that he found himself lounging on one of the patio chairs with Fleur tucked in at his side, resting her head on his shoulder.

A small black cat trotted out from around the corner of the house and sat directly in front of them and stared up curiously at him.

Fleur laughed softly and snuggled in closer. "'Arry, meet 'Arry."

"You really named your cat after me…"

"Oui, 'e looks just like you."

"The resemblance is uncanny," deadpanned Harry, causing Fleur to stifle her giggles.

He felt her giggles rumble from her body to his, bouncing them slightly on the chair. A while later, his head laid back on the backrest and his eyes closed, he muttered an errant thought, "It's so surreal to me."

"Hm? What is?"

"Being free… Knowing that I never have to return to the Dursleys. I always dreamed about it, and now that it's happened. I don't know… It just doesn't feel like it's really happening, that I'm possibly dreaming all this up.."

"It is real," whispered Fleur in French. "You never speak of zhem, but we are not blind, it is worse zhan what you 'ave said."

"You know what the hardest part was of growing up with them?" he asked, and she shook her head.

"It was the disappointment. I used to try and impress them, make them happy, make them love me. I remember the first time I had a report card from school, and I rushed back. I was so excited; I'd done really well, and I thought—hoped my aunt would have been proud."

He sighed a forlorn and heavy breath. "She accused me of cheating, how else could I have done better than her precious Duddeykins."

"It tore me down, eventually I just stopped trying."

The sorrow in his voice broke Fleur's heart. She didn't know what to say, so she instead held him and tried to convey her love for him without words. He placed a gentle, lingering kiss into her hair and rested his head on hers.

They fell into a comfortable silence, simply relaxing in each other's presence. After a while, Harry remembered that Dumbledore had given him a letter right before he left. He fished it out of his pocket and opened the envelope, not caring that Fleur was right there.

Fleur gasped as his eyes widened in shock at what was written.

"Well, money's never going to be an issue… I'm surprised he found a buyer so soon." The letter was a full accounting of the sales deal.

"What do you plan on doing wizh it?"

"I think…" he pondered. "I'll give some of it away, to everyone who was attacked. Hermione, Colin… Ginny most of all. They deserve to have something positive come out of that nightmare."

She kissed his jaw and smiled. "You know she's going to spend it all on books, oui?"

He chuckled and pictured their girlfriend being an absolute hurricane in a bookstore. "She'd be able to buy every title at Flourish & Blotts and not even make a dent."

Fleur laughed softly, her body shaking in mirth. "Don't give 'er ideas."

Her laughter slowed to soft chuckles.

"Arry?" She prodded hesitantly, her eyes on the letter in his hand.

"Hm?"

"You never did show us zhe chamber. When you take zhe 'eadmaster, bring us wizh?"

"I did promise," he agreed. "I'm sorry I haven't yet."

"It 'as been a busy year, especially for you. Zhe Patronus too, I still want to learn."

"If I could use magic, we'd be able to start now."

"Quoi?" she asked before suddenly breaking out in a fit of giggles. "Je désolé, 'Arry, I forgot to mention. We are all zhe way out 'ere, at my 'ome, and under wards. You can do magic, zhey will not know, and even if zhey did, zhey would not care."

"Seriously? I thought I have to wait until my birthday?"

"In Britain, maybe, but we are in France."

Harry pulled out his wand to test it. He paused and pondered until a spell came to mind. He pointed the wand at one of the flower buds on a nearby bush that had yet to sprout.

"Crescere Flores"

The flower bud opened and as if time was sped up, began to grow. The spell was one from herbology, a nifty little charm that you could use on the more mundane plants. The little yellow flower stood out brighter and even more vibrant than the others. A little side effect of magic.

A quick flick of his wand, followed by a twirl and a swish separated the flower from the bush and made the leaves on its stem flap like little wings as it took to the air.

Fleur caught it when it landed in her outstretched hand. "Merci, 'Arry," she said with a lovely smile as she held the yellow flower to her nose and smelled it.

"Zhat was very impressive," a voice Harry recognised as Apolline's said from the nearby doorway.

"Oui," said Fleur, playfully nudging him. "Arry is almost as good as me wizh charms. It is good 'e does not wish to be an enchanter. I don't zhink I could 'andle zhe competition."

Harry scratched his head in embarrassment.

"Do you enjoy gardening?" asked Apolline curiously, as she inspected the flower that Fleur was showing her.

Harry hummed in thought. "If I had to answer, I'd have to say yes. Of the chores I often did for the Dursleys, cooking and gardening were the two I minded the least."

"Tu peux cuisiner? You must join me," she glanced at her daughter amusedly. "Fleur 'as never been one for zhe kitchen. She can make zhe dessert, but anyzhing zhat is not le sucre or le chocolat and it is a good zhing zhe 'ouse is not easy to burn."

Fleur raised her nose haughtily. "Sugar and chocolate are all zhat you need."


Hermione enjoyed the warm Italian sun as she enjoyed a rather large bowl of chocolate gelato. Her parents sat across from her at the little seaside parlour table. A sudden gust of wind carried beach sand, forcing her to shield her icy treat from becoming a gritty disaster.

She frowned in irritation. Sardinia was absolutely beautiful, but by Merlin, was it windy. A group of teenage boys walked past them and couldn't help but give Hermione an appreciative glance. Not that she noticed it. But her parents did.

Dan Granger watched her behaviour curiously. The changes in their daughter over the last year had been startling to them. She'd come out of her shell in a way that brought her inner beauty to the surface. She'd found a way to tame her hair, turning it from bushy to a soft brown that was tied back in a skilfully done braid with just the right amount of loose curly strands. She wore a light touch of makeup that accentuated her features while maintaining that 'au naturel' look. But what shocked her parents most was what she wore. A summer sleeveless white blouse and flowery skirt.

It wasn't that he wasn't glad for the changes. His daughter was vibrant and healthy in a way that was everything they ever wished for. But while progressive they may be, the source of it all couldn't help but worry them.

His daughter. His book loving, shy, headstrong daughter was in a relationship with both a girl and a boy… Not just any boy and girl either. Her best friend and a young woman who could make most models self-conscious.

"Hermione," he heard his wife, Emma, say. She had one of the gift bags they'd bought and was feeling the fabric of a patterned baby blue shawl. "Are you sure this is enough?"

Dan smiled wryly; his wife seemed more nervous about their upcoming visit with Fleur's family than their daughter.

"Relax, mum, it's more than enough. Fleur loves anything in baby blue."

"And Harry?"

Hermione giggled. It was an odd sound to Dan, his daughter never giggled. "I think Harry will be happy so long as dad doesn't strangle him."

"I'm still on the fence regarding that…" he said as he took a sip of his ice cold limoncello cocktail.

"You're serious about this?" he met her eyes and asked suddenly. She didn't need to guess what 'this' was.

"I am," she answered unwaveringly. "I know it's not what you expected or hoped for, but they make me happy." There was a sincerity to her voice that couldn't be hidden.

"I love them, with Harry, I think I've loved him for a long time, and Fleur," she smiled and fiddled with a napkin on the table. "People see her, and they expect her to be this snooty– you know… but she's not, she's sweet and kind and she pushes us to be our best."

It felt weird to Hermione to be speaking to her parents about her relationship. But she needed to make them understand, if she expected them to accept it.

She reached out and held her dad's hand. "You've always trusted me to make the right decisions, so trust me now. Give them a chance, please, for me."

He stared at her for several moments and Hermione fought the urge to shrink under her father's gaze. When he took her hand in his and gave it a reassuring squeeze. She felt relief wash over her and couldn't resist getting up and hugging her father. He was still sitting so it was an awkward hug, but he smiled nonetheless and rubbed her back.

"I want to meet them properly before I make any real promises, but I'll be fair."

"That's all I can ask for," said Hermione with glistening eyes and a nod.

"Come you two," said her mother gently. "Save the tears for tonight, we're going to the theatre."

Dan groaned, causing Hermione and Emma to chuckle.

END CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE