CHAPTER 28: BIENVENUE À CHÂTEAU DELACOUR
The ceremony was beautiful, with both couples exchanging heartfelt vows under the late afternoon sun. The Burrow's garden was transformed into a picturesque setting, filled with wildflowers and fairy lights that twinkled as the evening set in.
Harry and Fleur stayed for the entirety of the event, mingling with old friends and acquaintances. Hagrid and Madame Maxime were there, towering over the crowd with their warm laughter. Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan shared a table with Katie Bell, reminiscing about their Hogwarts days. Oliver Wood's unexpected appearance delighted Harry; the former Quidditch captain introduced his wife and two young daughters, who shyly clung to his robes.
Yet, throughout the day and into the evening, Fleur never left Harry's side. It didn't take long for Harry to notice that she was subtly steering him away from certain situations, particularly when Ginny attempted to approach him during the after-wedding dance. Fleur's polite but firm presence seemed to deter Ginny each time.
Fleur's behavior extended beyond Ginny. She declined every invitation to dance from the many wizards who approached her, her gaze softening only when she turned to Harry. "I do not feel like dancing wiz anyone else," she said simply when Harry asked about it.
Though Harry found her protectiveness endearing, he couldn't shake the feeling that Fleur was guarding something unspoken.
The House in Godric's Hollow
A few months after the wedding, Harry finally saved enough Galleons to purchase a house. He chose a location close to his heart: Godric's Hollow, his birthplace.
With the sizable inheritance left to him by his parents and Sirius, Harry could have bought a home years ago. But he had deliberately refrained, choosing instead to set aside a portion of his monthly salary and draw only a fraction from his inheritance. The result was a modest but charming five-bedroom house just outside the town.
Initially, Harry had hoped to reclaim his parents' home. However, a conversation with Kingsley Shacklebolt had changed his mind.
"Harry," Kingsley had said, his tone thoughtful, "you have every right to reclaim the house, but consider this: raising a family in a place where such tragic events occurred, especially ones involving dark magic, may not be wise. The house is tainted in ways we don't fully understand."
Though disappointed, Harry understood the wisdom in Kingsley's words. He shifted his focus and eventually found a house he loved.
When he sent photos of the property to Fleur, her enthusiastic response surprised him. "It is beautiful, 'Arry!" she wrote. "But why not clean your parents' house magically and live zere?"
Harry explained his reasoning, adding that even though he could cleanse the house, he didn't want to risk the lingering effects of Voldemort's magic. Fleur's reply was supportive. "You are right," she had said. "You made a good decision. I am proud of you."
Kreacher, however, was less enthusiastic about the move. The old house-elf looked heartbroken when Harry informed him.
"You're leaving Grimmauld Place, Master?" Kreacher asked, his ears drooping.
Harry knelt to meet Kreacher's gaze. "I'll still visit, Kreacher. I promise. Grimmauld Place is part of the Black family's legacy, and I want you to keep taking care of it. It's still important to me."
The house-elf sniffed, his large eyes glistening. "Kreacher will do his best, Master. Kreacher will keep it ready for your visits."
Harry smiled, placing a hand on the elf's shoulder. "Thank you, Kreacher."
Five days after Christmas, the same year...
It had been two days since Harry arrived in Grenoble, often called the "Capital of the Alps" due to its breathtaking proximity to the French Alps. Fleur had invited him to spend Christmas at Château Delacour three weeks before Yule, but Harry had reluctantly declined. He had volunteered to cover shifts for his fellow Aurors, many of whom were married with families. As one of the few single Aurors, Harry felt it was only fair to let them celebrate the holiday with their loved ones.
"I'll come on the third day," Harry had told Fleur over their enchanted mirror call. Her disappointment had been evident, but she quickly masked it with a smile and agreed.
Now, one day before New Year's Eve, Harry found himself walking along Rue Saint-Sulpice with Fleur and her younger sister, Gabrielle. The temperature had dropped noticeably, the crisp air heralding the depths of winter. Snow dusted the cobblestone streets, and the faint scent of roasted chestnuts wafted from nearby stalls.
Their destination was the bottom station of Le Funiculaire de Saint-Hilaire du Touvet, a steeply inclined funicular railway that led to a picturesque village perched high above the valley. Harry had been staying at a cozy hotel near the station, and Fleur, who was surprisingly adept at driving, had been fetching him each morning to explore Grenoble and its surroundings.
Gabrielle had joined them that day, much to Fleur's chagrin. "She wouldn't stop pestering me," Fleur had grumbled earlier, though her tone carried a hint of fondness.
"I don't mind," Harry had reassured her. Gabrielle's youthful exuberance and endless questions about Hogwarts, Quidditch, and Harry's adventures were oddly refreshing.
The trio spent the morning wandering the charming streets of Saint-Hilaire du Touvet, taking in the panoramic views of the snow-covered Alps. Fleur and Gabrielle introduced Harry to local delicacies, and he couldn't help but marvel at the vibrant culture of the region.
By lunchtime, they were back in the city, settling into a cozy corner of a bustling restaurant. The warmth of the hearth and the aroma of French cuisine created a comforting ambiance. Fleur had ordered for them in flawless French, and Harry found himself captivated by her effortless charm.
That evening, Harry was due at Château Delacour for dinner. After parting ways with the sisters, he returned to his hotel to prepare. By half-past five, he was in a taxi winding its way through the scenic countryside. The journey took him past idyllic villages and frosted vineyards, the kind of serene beauty that felt almost magical.
As the taxi turned onto a long driveway lined with ancient oak trees, Château Delacour came into view. The grand house stood proudly amidst the winter landscape, its white stone façade glowing softly in the fading light. Twinkling fairy lights adorned the windows, and the faint strains of music drifted through the crisp air.
Harry stepped out of the taxi, his breath visible in the cold. Fleur was already waiting for him at the entrance, her silvery-blonde hair shimmering under the lights. She wore a deep blue dress that seemed to reflect the winter night sky, and her smile was as warm as the firelight spilling from the open door behind her.
"'Arry," she greeted, stepping forward to kiss him on both cheeks in the French fashion. "Bienvenue. I hope ze journey was pleasant?"
"It was," Harry replied, his voice slightly hoarse from the chill. "Your home is beautiful."
"Merci," Fleur said, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "Come inside. Maman and Papa are eager to see you again."
As Harry stepped into the grand foyer, he was enveloped by the warmth of the Delacour home. The scent of freshly baked bread and roasted meats filled the air, and the sound of laughter echoed from the dining room.
The voice startled Harry, pulling him from his observations. He turned to see Fleur descending the grand marble staircase, her movements graceful and poised. She wore a deep blue dress that hugged her figure elegantly, the fabric shimmering faintly as though reflecting the soft glow of the chandelier above.
"Am I?" Harry asked, glancing at his watch. "I thought I was right on time."
Fleur smiled, reaching the base of the stairs. "You are. I just didn't expect you to arrive until closer to dinner. But I suppose it's better to be early than late, non?"
Harry chuckled softly, still taking in the grandeur of the château. "This place is... incredible. I had no idea your family lived like this."
Fleur's smile turned slightly sheepish. "We do not flaunt it, if zat is what you mean. My parents prefer to live quietly. Papa says wealth is like magic—it is best used wisely and not for showing off."
Harry nodded, thinking back to the understated way Mr. and Mrs. Delacour had presented themselves at the Burrow. It made sense now, but it still surprised him. "Well, it's certainly a far cry from Shell Cottage," he said, his tone light but respectful.
Fleur's expression softened, a hint of wistfulness in her eyes. "Oui, it is. Shell Cottage was... simpler, but it had its own charm. It was home for a time."
Harry hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "I didn't know your family had all of this. Bill never really mentioned it."
"Bill is not ze type to talk about such things," Fleur said with a small laugh. "And I imagine he wanted people to see me for who I am, not for where I come from."
"That sounds like Bill," Harry agreed, smiling.
Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. A tall, broad-shouldered man with silvering blond hair entered the lobby, his warm smile immediately putting Harry at ease. Behind him, a woman with the same silvery-blonde hair as Fleur followed, her elegance radiating in every step.
"Ah, Monsieur Potter!" said Mr. Delacour, his deep voice resonating warmly. "Welcome to our home."
"Thank you for having me," Harry said, stepping forward and offering his hand. Mr. Delacour took it firmly, his grip strong but not overpowering.
"It is our pleasure," Mrs. Delacour said, her voice melodic and kind. She leaned in to kiss Harry on both cheeks in the French fashion, and he managed not to flinch at the unfamiliar gesture.
"Come," Mr. Delacour said, gesturing toward one of the oak doors flanking the staircase. "Dinner will be ready soon, but let us first enjoy some aperitifs in the salon."
As they walked, Fleur fell into step beside Harry, her hand lightly brushing his arm. "Do not worry," she murmured. "My parents already like you."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "You're sure about that? I haven't even said much yet."
Fleur's smile was mischievous. "Zat is why they like you."
Fleur gave him a small, appreciative smile before leading him into the salon, where the warmth of the fire and the soft glow of candles created an inviting atmosphere. The room was tastefully decorated, with rich tapestries hanging on the walls and comfortable armchairs arranged around a low, polished table. A large, elegant chandelier hung above, its crystals catching the light from the fire and casting a soft, shimmering glow across the room.
"Please, make yourself comfortable," Fleur said, gesturing to one of the armchairs. "My parents will be joining us shortly. Dinner will be served soon."
Harry nodded, taking a seat, but his mind was still occupied with their earlier conversation. He hadn't realized the extent to which Fleur's family's wealth might have affected her, or how much she'd tried to shield her loved ones from the scrutiny that could come with it. He could understand why she'd kept such things private—Bill's family was, by no means, wealthy, and the contrast between the two families could easily become a point of contention.
As Harry settled into the chair, he glanced at the large windows, through which the twinkling lights of Grenoble could be seen in the distance. The night had grown colder, and the view was almost surreal—so different from the life he'd known. Yet, despite the extravagance of the château, there was something calming about the quiet elegance of the space, something that made him feel at ease.
A few moments later, Mr. and Mrs. Delacour entered the room, and Harry rose to greet them. They were as warm and welcoming as ever, and after a few pleasantries, they invited him to join them at the dining table.
The dinner was exquisite—rich, flavorful, and expertly prepared. Harry couldn't help but marvel at the fine cuisine, and Fleur's parents made sure to include him in every conversation, making him feel as though he were part of the family. Despite the grand setting, the evening felt surprisingly intimate, and Harry found himself enjoying the company of the Delacours more than he had expected.
As the night went on, Fleur's earlier words lingered in Harry's mind. He respected her desire to keep her family's wealth private, and he understood the delicate balance she had to maintain. It wasn't just about the money—it was about the image people had of her and her family, and how easily that image could be twisted by gossip and assumptions.
When dinner was over and they moved to the sitting room for dessert and drinks, Harry found himself seated beside Fleur, her hand lightly resting on the arm of her chair. He glanced at her, noticing the soft glow of candlelight reflected in her eyes.
"Thank you for inviting me, Fleur," Harry said, his voice sincere. "This has been... really nice. I didn't expect it to be this... well, perfect."
Fleur smiled, her gaze meeting his. "It is my pleasure, 'Arry. I wanted you to feel welcome. Zhis is a special evening, and I am glad you could be here."
Harry smiled back, feeling the warmth of the moment. For the first time in a long while, he felt a sense of peace. The weight of everything he had been through, all the uncertainty, the losses, the battles—seemed a little lighter in this moment. Perhaps it was the atmosphere, or perhaps it was simply being surrounded by people who cared. Either way, he was grateful for it.
As they entered the dining hall, Harry couldn't help but be awestruck by the grandeur of the room. The long, polished dining table gleamed under the light of the chandeliers, and the delicate scent of roses filled the air, adding to the elegance of the setting. The walls were adorned with tapestries depicting scenes of French history, and the arched ceiling seemed to stretch endlessly above them, its painted details giving the room a sense of timelessness. The atmosphere was rich with history, yet it felt inviting, as if it were meant for family gatherings just as much as for grand occasions.
Monsieur Delacour gestured for everyone to take their seats. Harry, feeling a little out of place amidst the opulence, was shown to a seat at the head of the table, where Fleur had already settled beside him. Gabrielle, still adjusting her dress, took a seat next to her sister, and their parents sat opposite them.
The meal began with a selection of appetizers, each more delicate and refined than the last. Fleur's mother, Appoline, spoke with ease, her French accent adding a melodic quality to her words as she asked Harry about his recent experiences. Though Harry had never been one for small talk, he found himself enjoying the conversation, especially with the way the Delacours made him feel at ease. Their warmth and genuine interest in him made the evening feel less like a formal dinner and more like a gathering of old friends.
As the main course was served—a rich, flavorful dish of roasted lamb with a delicate wine sauce—Harry couldn't help but glance around the room, still taking in the surroundings. He was used to the more humble settings of the Burrow, and even the grandeur of the Weasley home never quite compared to the lavishness of the Delacour château. But there was something about the Delacours' understated elegance that made him feel comfortable, as though their wealth was merely a backdrop to the real warmth of their family.
Monsieur Delacour, noticing Harry's subtle observations, leaned forward slightly, his eyes twinkling with a knowing smile. "You seem to be enjoying the meal, Mister Potter. I trust zhat you are not too overwhelmed by our humble abode?"
Harry chuckled, feeling a bit embarrassed. "No, not at all, sir. It's just... well, it's a lot to take in. Everything here is so... grand."
Fleur's father waved his hand dismissively. "Ah, but it is just a house, like any other. What matters most is how we live within it, no? And tonight, we live as family, not as strangers or guests."
Harry smiled at the sentiment, feeling a little more at ease. "I agree. It's been a long time since I've felt this... welcomed."
Fleur's eyes softened as she looked at him, and her father nodded approvingly. "Zhat is good to hear, Mister Potter. Family is what makes a house feel like home. And I can tell, you are part of zhat family now."
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