CHAPTER 24: BETWEEN PARIS AND THE PAST

Flashback Continues...

Elysée Palace, France

Harry felt distinctly out of place, standing in the lavishly adorned ballroom of the Elysée Palace. The grandeur around him was almost overwhelming—golden chandeliers hung high above, casting a warm glow over the polished marble floors, and the soft hum of conversation filled the air, mingling with the gentle notes of a string quartet. Yet, all of it seemed to blur into the background the moment she stepped into his line of sight.

"What iz zhe matter, 'Arry?" came her lilting, accented voice. She approached him slowly, her heels clicking softly against the floor, her words laced with a teasing warmth. "Cat caught your tongue?"

Harry felt his throat tighten, and he instinctively tugged at the collar of his dress robes. He tried to form a coherent response, but nothing came out. It wasn't just the surprise of seeing her after so many years; it was how different she seemed.

He recognized her instantly. Of course, he should—Fleur Delacour was once married to Bill Weasley, the eldest brother of his best friend. But the woman standing before him was not the Fleur he remembered. Back then, she had always been beautiful—undeniably so, given her Veela heritage—but now, she was...

She was a vision.

Her silvery-blonde hair, once cascading down her back in long, straight locks, was now styled in a chic pixie cut, the ends curling playfully just below her shoulders. She had swept it all to one side, revealing a delicate sapphire earring that glinted in the light. Her sky-blue lace evening dress hugged her figure perfectly, emphasizing her curves and matching the striking blue of her eyes. She was elegance personified, her every movement radiating poise and confidence.

"'Arry?" Fleur called again, her voice soft yet insistent, pulling him out of his reverie.

Harry blinked, realizing with some embarrassment that he had been staring. He cleared his throat and tried to compose himself, though his heart still raced. "Fleur?" he managed, his voice hoarse. "Is that... really you?"

Her smile was dazzling. "Oui," she replied, her accent as musical as he remembered. "I am glad zat you remember me."

"Of course, I do," Harry said quickly. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling suddenly awkward under her gaze. "You—uh—you look... amazing."

"Merci," she said, inclining her head gracefully. "And I am glad zat you are still immune to my allure."

Harry froze, her words taking a moment to sink in. "Wait," he said, narrowing his eyes slightly. "You projected your allure on me?"

Her grin turned playful, and she tilted her head. "To ze max," she admitted, her tone light but mischievous. "Most men would be reduced to slobbering, incoherent messes just by looking at me." She took another step closer, her perfume—a subtle blend of jasmine and something citrusy—filling the space between them. "You did not. Congratulations."

Harry let out a nervous chuckle. "Hardly," he muttered, scratching the back of his neck. "I might not have started drooling, but I definitely fell into a stupor."

Fleur laughed softly, the sound like a melody that seemed to lift the tension in the air. "Ah, but zat is nothing to be ashamed of. You 'ave always been different, 'Arry. Even back at Hogwarts, you were unique."

Harry smiled faintly, though he couldn't help but feel self-conscious. "I'm not sure if that's a compliment or just your way of saying I'm weird."

"Perhaps both," she teased, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

There was a pause, the kind that felt almost comfortable despite the unexpected reunion. Harry took the moment to study her more closely, marveling at how much had changed—and yet, how much was still the same. Fleur, for all her striking beauty and grace, still had that same warm, teasing air about her.

"So," he began hesitantly, "what brings you here? To France, I mean. I thought you might have stayed in England..."

Fleur's smile faltered just slightly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her face. She looked away briefly, as though gathering her thoughts, before meeting his gaze again. "Life 'as a way of... changing our paths, does it not?" she said softly. "France is my 'ome, and after... everything, I needed to be close to my family."

Harry nodded, understanding the weight of her words. He didn't press further—it wasn't the time or place to revisit painful memories. Instead, he offered her a small, reassuring smile. "It's good to see you again, Fleur. Really."

"And you, 'Arry," she said sincerely. "I 'ope zis is not ze last time we meet. It 'as been too long."

Harry nodded again, his heart feeling lighter despite the swirling emotions. For a moment, he felt like they were both standing on the precipice of something new—a reunion carrying the weight of their shared histories and the promise of an uncertain future.

"But you climb out of it just as easily," Fleur said, breaking the moment with a teasing smile. "If you were like most men, you would not be talking to me right now. You would be standing zhere, looking like a drooling lamp post in a suit. Not a pretty sight, I assure you. But funny, nevertheless."

Harry chuckled, the tension in his chest easing slightly. He scratched the back of his head, smiling sheepishly. "Well, maybe that's true. But you have to admit—you've changed. A lot. If it weren't for your voice, I might not have recognized you."

Fleur tilted her head and let out a soft laugh, the sound like chimes in the breeze. "And you, 'Arry. You are not ze scrawny boy I remember. Taller now—and 'andsome, too."

Harry felt his face heat up at the compliment. It was true, though; he had grown taller over the years, now standing just above Fleur, whose petite stature still managed to exude grace and strength. "Thanks to puberty, I guess," he replied with a self-conscious shrug.

Fleur laughed again, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "I do not zhink it iz only puberty, 'Arry. But it iz good to see you doing well." Her tone softened, and she tilted her head slightly. "May I ask you a question?"

"Sure," Harry said, his smile fading slightly as he picked up on her change in tone. "Fire away."

Fleur's playful demeanor gave way to something more serious, though her voice remained gentle. "Tell me somezhing, 'Arry. Did Hogwarts change its address? Or perhaps my owl lost its way and delivered my letter to ze wrong place?"

Harry blinked, caught off guard. "No," he said slowly, his brow furrowing. "The address is still the same. Why would you—oh, wait!" His eyes widened as realization dawned. "You did send me a letter."

Fleur raised an eyebrow, her expression a mix of curiosity and reproach. "Oui. And what 'appened to it?"

A sense of dread began to creep over him as he met her gaze. Fleur wasn't angry, but there was a distinct seriousness in her expression that made him squirm. "I—I kept it," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "Just kept it."

"And zat was it?" Fleur asked, her tone sharper now. "You did not zhink to write even a simple reply? Not even a single sentence? A hello?"

Harry sighed, running a hand down his face. He hated when conversations took a sudden turn like this, especially when he knew he was in the wrong. He didn't want things to end on a sour note, but he also knew Fleur deserved the truth.

"I was... too busy," he said lamely, his words faltering under her piercing gaze. "With NEWTs and everything going on, I got distracted. I'm sorry."

Fleur crossed her arms, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Zhat iz ze best excuse you can give me? 'Too busy'? You think I do not understand what it iz like to be busy?"

Harry winced, knowing full well how weak his excuse sounded. "It's not that I didn't care," he said earnestly. "I just—I wasn't in the best place at the time. After the war, there was so much to process. I didn't mean to ignore you."

Fleur's expression softened slightly, though her eyes still held a hint of disappointment. "I understand zat life 'as not been easy for you, 'Arry," she said gently. "But do you know why I wrote zat letter?"

Harry shook his head, guilt twisting in his stomach.

"I wanted to thank you," she continued. "For everything you did—for Bill, for my family, for ze world. I wanted to tell you zat you were not alone, even if we were far apart." She sighed, her voice growing quieter. "And perhaps... I needed to know zat you were all right."

Harry felt a lump form in his throat. He hadn't realized how much that letter might have meant to her, or how deeply his lack of response could have hurt. "I'm sorry, Fleur," he said sincerely, meeting her gaze. "I should've written back. I should've said something."

Fleur studied him for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then, with a small sigh, she uncrossed her arms and gave him a faint smile. "You are forgiven," she said simply. "But only because I know you are not ze kind of person to ignore a friend out of malice."

"Thank you," Harry said quietly, relief washing over him.

"Just promise me one zhing," Fleur added, her smile turning playful once more. "If I ever send you anozher letter, you will reply. Even if it iz just a few words."

"Deal," Harry said, managing a small smile of his own.

Fleur nodded, satisfied. "Good. Now, shall we get some air? Zhis ballroom is beautiful, but I zhink we could both use a bit of space."

"Lead the way," Harry said, falling into step beside her.

But Fleur didn't move. Instead, she looked at him hard for a few moments, her gaze sharp and calculating. Finally, she spoke, her voice cold and distant. "I see. You 'ave a huge event to manage, monsieur Potter. I am sure zhey need you inside."

She turned on her heel and began to walk away, heading back to where she had stood earlier, her posture rigid and unyielding. The warmth that had suffused her tone earlier was gone, replaced by a chill that made Harry's stomach twist.

He stood frozen for a moment, guilt weighing heavily on him. He knew she had every reason to feel this way—his actions, or lack thereof, had hurt her, and no excuses could erase that. But he also knew the full story was something she didn't understand, something she couldn't unless he told her.

He slowly approached her from behind. She stood still, her back to him, staring out at the glowing lights of the Eiffel Tower.

"Fleur," he said softly, hesitant. Silence.

"Look, I'm sorry," he continued, his voice earnest. "I forgot to reply to your letter, and you have every right to be angry with me. A lot of things happened back then, as I said, and I know it sounds like a lame excuse—but it's the truth. I don't want to lie to you. If you're willing to listen, I'll tell you everything."

Fleur didn't respond, her focus still on the dazzling Paris skyline.

Harry sighed, feeling the weight of the silence pressing down on him. "Fleur," he said again, his tone firmer now. "It's okay if you don't want to listen, but I have a job to do. This balcony isn't restricted, but I can't let you stay out here alone. In the event of a security breach, you'd be the first target. You're the daughter of the French High Commissioner, after all. I need to get you inside. Now."

Still, she said nothing, her stillness more piercing than any argument could have been.

"Look, it was just a letter," Harry added, exasperated but still gentle. "I forgot to write a reply, that's all. But that doesn't mean I forgot about you. You're still my friend, Fleur."

Her silence stretched on, unbroken, and Harry finally sighed, his resolve faltering. "Fine," he said quietly. "I'll send two female agents to escort you. You can stay out here as long as you like, but please, heed my advice—it's not safe."

As he reached for his comm, preparing to call for backup, Fleur's voice cut through the silence.

"A letter may not mean much to you, 'Arry," she said, her words laced with sadness, "but it means a lot to me."

Harry paused, lowering his hand.

Fleur turned to face him, her expression a mix of pain and vulnerability. "One simple reply is all it takes for me to know zhat someone out zhere remembers me. I 'ave many friends, but only a few who see me for who I am. I already lost one of zhem."

Harry didn't need to ask who she meant—Bill Weasley's absence loomed heavily in her words.

"And for a long time," Fleur continued, her voice trembling, "I zhought I had lost you too."

"I'm sorry," Harry said softly, his heart heavy with regret. "I didn't realize how much it meant to you. I've been a bad friend, Fleur, and you're entitled to hate me for it. I won't defend myself against that. But I still need to ensure your safety. And not because of who your father is, but because you're my friend."

He reached for his comm again, determined to do his duty, but as he began to speak into it, Fleur's hand shot out, grabbing his wrist and lowering the device.

"Don't," she said firmly, her eyes locking onto his.

Before Harry could react, Fleur took both of his hands in hers. There was no warning, no time to protest. With a sharp crack, the two of them vanished, the sound of the Eiffel Tower's lights and the bustling event fading into nothingness.

They reappeared in a dimly lit room, its ornate furnishings and gilded frames on the walls suggesting old-world luxury. Heavy velvet curtains blocked out the outside world, and a faint scent of lavender lingered in the air. Harry stumbled slightly, disoriented by the sudden apparition.

"Fleur," he started, his tone a mix of confusion and frustration. "What are you doing? Where are we?"

Fleur released his hands and turned away, her figure outlined by the soft glow of a nearby lamp. "Somewhere private," she said simply, her voice tinged with an edge he hadn't heard before.

"Private?" Harry repeated, his brow furrowed. "You can't just whisk me away like this! I have responsibilities back there—people are relying on me!"

Fleur spun back to face him, her eyes flashing with an intensity that stopped him in his tracks. "Responsibilities?" she echoed, her tone sharp. "And what about me, 'Arry? Do I not deserve even a fraction of zhat? You ignored me for years, and now you talk of duties as if zhey excuse everything."

Harry opened his mouth to argue but found no words. She wasn't wrong, and he knew it.

"I'm sorry," he said again, quieter this time. "I didn't mean to ignore you, Fleur. I—"

She held up a hand, silencing him. "No more apologies, 'Arry. Words mean little when zhere is no action behind zhem. You say you care, but your actions tell anozer story."

Harry rubbed the back of his neck, feeling cornered but also deeply regretful. "You're right," he admitted. "I haven't been a good friend to you, Fleur. I let things slip—important things—and you have every right to be upset. But if you'll let me, I want to make it right. I don't want to lose our friendship."

Fleur studied him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Finally, she let out a soft sigh, her shoulders relaxing slightly.

"Friendship is not somezhing zhat can be repaired overnight," she said, her voice quieter now. "It takes time, effort, trust."

"I'll do whatever it takes," Harry said earnestly.

Her lips curved into a faint smile, though her eyes still held traces of sadness. "We shall see," she said. "But first, you will listen."

Harry nodded, stepping back slightly to lean against a nearby table. "I'm listening."

Fleur hesitated for a moment, then began, her voice steady but tinged with emotion. "When Bill died, everything fell apart," she said. "Zhe Weasleys were kind, but I could feel zheir pain, zheir resentment. I was a constant reminder of what zhey had lost. So, I left."

She walked over to a nearby window, pulling back the heavy curtain slightly to gaze out into the night. "Returning to France was supposed to be a fresh start, but it wasn't. Every time I tried to move forward, I felt zhis... void. And zhen I zhought of you."

Harry's throat tightened.

"You were zhe only one who treated me as more zhan a veela, more zhan Bill's wife," Fleur continued. "I wrote to you because I zhought maybe, just maybe, you understood. But when you didn't reply, I zhought I was wrong."

"You weren't wrong," Harry said quickly. "I should've written back. I just—" He hesitated, unsure how to explain the chaos of his life without sounding like he was making excuses.

"I know life has been difficult for you too," Fleur said, turning back to face him. "I know zhat more zhan most. But friendships are not one-sided, 'Arry. Zhey require effort, even when life gets hard."

"I understand that now," Harry said, his voice firm. "And I want to do better. I will do better, Fleur."

Fleur regarded him for a moment longer before nodding slightly. "We shall see," she repeated, her tone softer this time. "For now, zhere is no need to say more. We should return before anyone notices you are missing."

Harry nodded, grateful for the tentative peace they had reached. "Thank you," he said.

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