Chapter 9
The Life and Times of Harry James Potter
As dinner wound down, Fleur could not shake the unsettled feeling that had come over her. When Harry was so nervous about coming here, she guessed that he was merely anticipating meeting her mother – a daunting prospect for most boys, or so she had heard – but now she was not so sure. His extreme reaction to her grandmother was, after all, rather shocking!
He was perfectly polite throughout the meal, and though his cheeks were stained permanently red from embarrassment, he said nothing about it. It was as though he was doing his best to ignore the issue and move on – which she could respect, but which also did not satisfy her. When combined with her father's warning not to question him, and the statement that he was not used to being held, the situation painted a very disturbing picture in her mind.
But she could do nothing about that at the moment, and instead simply watched him. While he was very quiet, he still made an effort to participate in the conversation, and that impressed her. The strain he was under shone like a beacon in his brilliant green eyes, but he ignored it as best he could, making a concerted effort to be friendly and fit in.
And if that was what he was made of, that incredible inner strength, then she was truly honored that he had agreed to marry her!
It was a very odd concept, but she doubted that she could have picked another that she would rather be with in this situation. It wasn't his looks, or his money, or even his personality per se; it was his sense of nobility. If there was one thing she knew, it was that he would never take advantage of her, and that was worth a tremendous amount!
She was, however, worried about his issues with physical contact. Apart from her family, she herself did not generally allow others to touch her, but there were reasons for that – most notably that boys tended to take it as an invitation for something more. It did not change that she did, in fact, desire that sort of thing!
Would he be able to give that to her? Would he ever be comfortable enough that she could touch him without triggering a negative reaction, and that he would return the gesture in kind? If not, then she would not be terribly happy, not that she could blame him for the problem if her suspicions were correct.
The only thing she could think to do was to test the waters. Her grandmother had accosted him in a rather sudden manner, and that could have had something to do with it. Perhaps if she started slowly and cautiously, she could get him used to the idea...
"Fleur? Are you coming?"
Snapped out of her reverie by her father's call, she focused back on the here and now, and was startled to find everyone rising from the table. Harry was watching her curiously, though she suspected that he understood what had just happened. He, too, had spaced out on several different occasions this night.
"Sorry, Papa," she said sheepishly as she rose gracefully to her feet. "My mind was wandering."
Her father nodded understandingly. "Come," he smiled. "We will retire to the living room. I 'ave an idea that may be a fun way for us to get to know 'Arry, and I do not think you will want to miss it."
The puzzled and nervous look on Harry's face made her smile. She had an idea of where her father was going with this, and she was certain that Harry would agree to it. And he was right: it would be an excellent way for them to get to know him better! Remembering her earlier idea, she held out her hand to him and smiled, hoping that he might take it.
He glanced warily at it – he was obviously still out of sorts – but then he gathered his courage and reached out. She smiled as she felt his hand slip into hers, and gave it a gentle squeeze. He smiled faintly back at her, but his fidgeting told her that he had no idea what to do with himself in a situation such as this.
That thought brought a faintly amused smirk to her lips, though she hid it quickly.
Without another word she led him out of the dining room and back down the hall. Like their family dining area, the living room was cozy, unlike much of the rest of the Chateau. The place was built to impress, and only in recent generations had it truly become a home.
A trio of squashy couches surrounded a low glass coffee table in this room, all riding above plush white carpet. Fleur led Harry to the couch to the right of the grate, where a low fire burned merrily away. He glanced bemusedly at her as they sat down, but she just smiled reassuringly and gave his hand another squeeze.
Puzzled by it, he studied her for a long moment, but to his credit, he did not snatch his hand away.
Soon everyone was seated, and while her mother called upon one of the elves to bring more refreshments, her father retrieved a large, ornate stone bowl from a nearby shelf and set it in the middle of the coffee table. "Alright, 'Arry," he smiled. "This is completely voluntary, but I think we will all enjoy it. 'ave you seen one of these before?"
Harry merely shook his head, intent on studying the bowl with his eyes.
"This is a Pensieve," explained her father. "It allows us to view the memories of others. What I propose is that you select several good memories that you would like to share with us, and we will watch them together. It is an excellent way of learning about each other."
Harry unconsciously tightened his grip on Fleur's hand out of nerves, and yet his eyes shone with childlike curiosity. His inner struggle was plain: he wanted to see this miracle, but he was uncertain what he could show them! After his reticence in their conversation by the lake, she was not entirely surprised.
That conversation had gone well, but it also made it eminently clear that Harry Potter did not trust easily. He held his cards close to his chest, to use the Muggle phrase, and she sincerely doubted that even his friends knew nearly everything about him. If what she now suspected about his home life was true, then this was not a terribly surprising outcome.
"Er, what do you want to see?" he asked tentatively.
"'ow about ze First Task?" suggested her mother. "We were unable to see it personally, and we 'ave only Fleur's memory of 'er own performance."
His grip loosened at the mention of a relatively safe subject. "Okay," he smiled. "How does this work?"
It only took a few minutes for her father to teach him how to extract the memory, and then they promptly dove in. Harry's look of amazement was priceless, and earned him another squeeze; she was pleased to see that he hadn't let go, even as they fell inside! And this time, he squeezed back and smiled shyly up at her. She was making progress!
And then the memory began to unfold, and Fleur forgot all about it.
To say that he was an impressive flier would be one of the biggest understatements she could imagine. The way he teased the dragon, ducking and dodging terrifying fountains of flame, was absolutely unreal! He really should have come in first, as this was very impressive for someone his age, and he was the least injured of the lot when it was over.
As they returned to their seats, she found him blushing in embarrassed pleasure at the amazed looks everyone was giving him, herself included. She had only seen his attempt from afar, and seeing it up close made her respect his abilities all the more. He really was going to be an amazing wizard some day!
"That was quite impressive, 'Arry," breathed Sebastian. "And Fleur was right, you should 'ave 'ad first place for that!"
Harry's blush deepened, and he gave a modest shrug at the compliment.
"You are a wonderful flier," agreed Fleur, smiling down at him. "Per'aps we could see one of your Quidditch matches?"
Harry smiled and nodded, and then his brow furrowed in thought as he figured out what to show them. She really did want to see him flying again: even facing a dragon, he had looked so peaceful in the air, that she wanted to see if it was a fluke. Fleur had always been partial to brooms herself – she was a creature of air, after all – and though she was nowhere near his level, she would not mind flying with him some time.
Finally he extracted another memory and placed it in the bowl. "This is a match from my second year," he explained quietly. "It's... interesting."
Moments later they fell into the Pensieve and watched as a smaller Harry rode out to the field on his broom – and the game that followed was truly impressive. The look on his face during the First Task was not just a fluke: Harry was a natural in the air, almost like it was simply where he belonged. Half the time he dodged Bludgers without even looking!
They watched for a few more minutes, before– "What is wrong wiz zat Bludger?" she asked curiously. "Zey are not supposed to do zat."
Harry snorted, and his eyes developed a slight twinkle. "Remember that House Elf I mentioned the other day?" he asked, his voice still quiet, but his good humor clearly audible. Fleur nodded, and he continued. "This is the year I met him," he explained. "He was trying to protect me from something, and figured if I got hurt in the game that I would leave the school."
Everyone turned to stare at him.
"So 'e enchanted a Bludger to hunt you?" asked Fleur incredulously. "And you call 'im your friend?"
"He meant well," he shrugged, his eyes still on the game going on around them. "Dobby is just a bit... overenthusiastic. I made him promise not to save my life anymore."
Fleur snorted in morbid amusement at the concept.
"What was 'e protecting you from?" asked her father curiously.
Harry's expression dimmed. "Lucius Malfoy gave someone an enchanted diary," he explained. "It possessed her, and made her let a basilisk out that was hidden in the school." Frowning deeply, he added, "A lot of students were petrified. We were lucky nobody died."
A shocked silence ensued, only interrupted by the various sounds of the game that continued unabated, as nobody thought to pause the memory.
"A basilisk?" echoed Fleur faintly.
"In a school?" breathed Caterine.
"What 'appened to it?" asked Arienne curiously.
To Fleur's utter shock, Harry turned crimson at the latter question, his grip on her hand tightening once more. "I, er, kinda killed it," he said sheepishly.
Another shocked silence, and then–
"Non," said Caterine firmly. "Zis I do not believe."
Harry took no notice of the slight against his honor, and instead just shrugged. "I can show you if you want," he suggested tentatively. "Er, if it's safe to do in here, anyway. They can kill by looking at you."
"Zere is no magic in ze memories," said Arienne faintly. "It would not be dangerous."
"I would like to see that," agreed Sebastian.
Fleur remained silent, stunned by the revelation. If there was one thing she had discovered about Harry by watching and listening to him over the past months, it was that he was anything but a liar! He had killed a basilisk, which very few wizards could say!
Another piece of the disturbing puzzle fell into place. Between that and the Tournament – and not counting the amusing anecdote he told about the troll in his first year – that made at least three life-and-death situations that she was aware of. Hogwarts was supposed to be a school! What what was going on there?
"Oh, here's the good part," he suddenly smiled.
Fleur looked up in time to see the enchanted Bludger smash into his elbow – clearly breaking it – but the Harry in the memory ignored the pain and dove after the snitch, which he caught before landing and passing out. It was a truly impressive catch, and to do it while handling that kind of pain? She was rapidly being forced to upward revise her already high opinion of her husband-to-be!
Finally they were once again in the real world, and the reactions this time were mixed, with everyones' mind on the basilisk rather than the game they just witnessed. Fleur decided that wasn't a good thing; he would show them in due time, but didn't need any more pressure than he had already endured this night. He was being remarkably patient with them, and there was no reason to push.
"Zat was very impressive," she smiled at him.
"Thanks," came his quiet reply, along with another modest shrug. "I have more if you want to see them. I've only ever lost one game, and that was only because Dementors invaded the pitch."
"Dementors?" breathed her father. "At the school?"
He winced. "Yes sir," he nodded. "They were looking for my–"
Harry broke off suddenly, and his gaze went distant, causing Fleur to frown; the tension in his grip increased dramatically, and it was... different, somehow. The look in his eyes was no longer the shy, gentle one that had been present for most of the night: now there was a startling intensity there. Then his gaze once again locked on her father, as though to weigh how much he could trust the man.
"'Arry?" prompted Sebastian cautiously after a moment.
Harry took a deep breath, never breaking his gaze. "Do you know about my godfather, sir?" he asked, his tone more serious than she had yet heard it.
Her father narrowed his eyes in thought. "Sirius Black, I believe," he slowly recollected. "Wanted for the betrayal of your parents, and the mass-murder of a number–."
"He's innocent," interrupted Harry. "He never had a trial, sir. Peter Pettigrew betrayed my parents and framed him. I've met them both, and Pettigrew admitted it, but Minister Fudge wouldn't believe us. I can show you."
He was almost pleading at the end, and desperation was suddenly leaking from him in waves. His grip on her hand was almost painfully tight, and she shook herself free of it, startling him into giving her an apologetic look. But drawn by what she was sensing from him, she reached out to him, gently placing her hand on the back of his neck to comfort him.
He blinked bemusedly at her for a moment before turning back to the conversation.
"I would very much like to see that memory," said Sebastian seriously.
Harry's only response was to draw his wand and extract it. It took but a moment for him to recall and draw it out, and then he placed it in the bowl with great caution. He closed his eyes for a long moment and took a deep breath, and then nodded. Not a word was spoken as they leaned in.
The memory began in a shabby building, and they watched silently as the scene unfolded. She was startled by the hatred in Harry's eyes as he initially attacked Black; it was an emotion she had not expected of him. It cleared quickly, though, and quite fortunately as it turned out. There were gasps as Pettigrew appeared, and a shocked silence as they listened to him confessing his crimes, even if it was under duress!
And then they watched as it all fell apart.
Fleur's head spun as she sat there on the couch digesting what she had just seen. His only family was on the run, having escaped illegal imprisonment, and was under threat of the Dementor's Kiss from the Ministry of Magic! It was appalling! And it was beyond clear that Harry cared deeply for the man.
Harry himself sat quietly next to her, waiting nervously for their reactions. She once again reached out to him and gently caressed the back of his neck, which made him turn toward her. The pain she saw hidden in his eyes was incredibly potent, but his nerves were at the forefront.
She smiled a gentle smile at him, trying to silently convey that she believed him.
"This changes things," mused her father after a while. "'Arry, may I 'ave that memory? I would like to show it to Madame Bones."
"I'll do anything to help Sirius, sir," he responded with quiet conviction.
"Do not despair," urged Sebastian. "Now that I am aware of this, I can take steps to correct the injustice. And in the mean time, it is very likely that France will offer 'im asylum if 'e is willing to answer the charges under Veritaserum, which I believe 'e most likely will."
"They would do that?" asked Harry hopefully.
"I believe so. I will look into it tomorrow and inform you when I 'ave an answer."
"Thank you," whispered Harry emotionally, clearly overwhelmed.
Her father leaned over and gently placed a hand on his knee. "This is what family is, 'Arry," he said seriously. "This is what family does. You are not alone anymore, and we will 'elp you 'owever we can, just as you would 'elp us."
Tears came to Harry's eyes, and he nodded slightly, a faint smile indicating his thanks, but he was too overwhelmed with emotion to do anything else. For all of his strength, he appeared so fragile at that moment that Fleur's heart broke for him. What had this young man been through? And had he truly had nobody to help him through it?
It was dangerous, but Fleur didn't care: she cautiously leaned in and wrapped her arms around him in a gentle hug, and – to her considerable surprise – she felt his arms come around her in return. Something intangible passed between them in that moment, and she knew then that her fears were unfounded. While he was hesitant about physical contact, it could definitely be overcome.
"I vote we move on if 'Arry is up to it," said Caterine softly into the silence. And with a wry smile she added, "I for one would very much like to see my newest grandson prove to me zat 'e slew a basilisk."
That teased laughter out of the group, all except for Harry – but he did grin at her, which Fleur was learning was almost as good coming from him. He was a very complex person, but she was finding that he was much simpler than he often appeared. She sensed that she was still missing important pieces of the puzzle, but very much hoped that she would soon have enough of a picture to understand him.
Chapter 10
The Case Against Snivellus Snape
One thing rapidly led to another, and before Harry knew it, they were reviewing every significant event of his Hogwarts career in the Pensieve. In fact, they went through so much that the Delacour family now knew things that even Ron and Hermione didn't know. It was nothing secret – just details that he never bothered to share – but it was startling nevertheless.
To say that Sebastian was livid would be putting it mildly, and the rest of the family was not far behind. Looking at it objectively through the lens of the unique magical device, even Harry could admit that he was angry at just how bolluxed up his school career had been. The number of times he had almost been killed...
They returned to Hogwarts very early the following morning, but not before Sebastian pulled him aside for a private chat. Harry was shocked to learn that the man had figured out that he was holding back in school, and even more so to realize that he really had no idea why he was even still doing it. It wasn't like the Dursleys had ever checked his Hogwarts grades, so he didn't need to worry about doing better than Dudley anymore.
It was simply an ingrained habit, and one which Sebastian was hell bent on breaking him of. He kindly explained that he was expected to do his best in school, and Harry accepted it with a mixture of gratitude and trepidation – the former because the man cared, and the latter in wonder of what would happen if he messed up. And then Sebastian told him that they rewarded their children for excellent grades, and to keep that in mind.
Having a family that cared for him was definitely a new experience, even if he thought it would be a very long time before he could truly accept them as such.
The lack of sleep did him in – and Fleur as well – and they both barely made it through their classes the next day, and did not see each other. He was fortunate that he managed to get any sleep at all; he found it difficult in the wake of the shocks of the past week. And then, as the perfect cap, he had to endure his least-favorite day.
Friday.
Where most students loved Fridays, being the last day before the weekend, Harry loathed them. He, like anyone else, was grateful that the week was about to end, but there was an overriding factor. It was one that could not be avoided, and one that he very much wished he could do without.
He had Potions on Friday.
Today's class was one of the worst he'd yet endured, too. It would have been one thing if Snape kept to his normal attacks on Harry and his father, but involving Hermione was just not right! Never mind that the article was full of lies; reading anything like that – true or not – to a class of teenagers, just to spite a student, was completely out of line. By the time dinner rolled around he was angry, and it was hard not to notice.
"Bloody git," he grumbled to himself.
"Stop, Harry," sighed Hermione. "We can't do anything about it. It isn't worth worrying about."
Harry stabbed moodily at his shepherd's pie. He couldn't help but wonder: was that really true? Did they really have to put up with Snape's attitude? What exactly was it that stopped someone from raising a stink about it and getting the man sacked?
"Sez right, 'arry," said Ron through a mouthful of potatoes. "ih won oo ay good."
"Don't talk with your mouth full, Ronald," scowled Hermione.
Ron swallowed his mouthful of potatoes. "Leave off," he grumbled at her.
"I will when you learn some manners!" she sniffed.
"Whatever, Little Miss Perfect," scowled Ron. "We can't all be like you."
"Only because you're too lazy to try!"
"You just don't like that I have a life!"
"What life? You play chess all day, Ronald! That's not a life!"
Harry waited for the next retort to roll back by, but it never came. Worse, when he looked up in morbid curiosity, the reason was apparent: Ron's face had gone slack, and he had a hungry look in his eyes as they followed someone's progress up the aisle between the tables. Harry didn't have to ask who it was, but didn't turn to look until he felt her hand come down on his neck.
He absolutely loved how it felt when she did that! That night at Chateau Delacour, she had touched him in simple ways that nobody ever had before, and he was astonished at how much he liked it! He didn't normally like people touching him, but she was... different, somehow.
He closed his eyes at the sensation, unable to resist.
"Do you mind if I join you?" she asked smoothly.
Harry smiled and started to open his mouth, but Ron got there first. "Yeah!" he breathed. "Yeah, you can join us! Budge up, Hermione!"
Hermione snarled when he tried to push her over – and he was quickly on the wrong end of her wand, stopping him instantly. Even Fleur's allure couldn't distract him from his fear of that wand! Hermione was dangerous when she was hacked off, and Harry was easily smart enough never to be in that position.
Ron, not so much.
And now he had two annoyed Witches to contend with. Harry looked up in time to see that Fleur was directing a fierce look in Ron's direction, her annoyance at his interruption shining through clearly. He felt a perverse sense of satisfaction at that: if only Ron knew what was really going on!
"I was asking a man," she said scathingly. "Not an excitable little boy like you."
Hermione's snarl faltered, and suddenly she was fighting an evil grin at Ron's sputtering. Harry smirked, patted the seat next to him, and smiled up at Fleur. "It's all yours if you can put up with us, belle femme," he offered.
Ron and Hermione both stared at him in open astonishment – probably for different reasons – while Fleur quirked an eyebrow and slid gracefully into the proffered seat.
"Français?" she grinned at him. "Je suis impressionné!"
"Me too," breathed Hermione.
Harry snorted. Of course Hermione spoke French! He could at least guess at the meaning of her comment, though. "I only know a teensy bit," he shrugged. "I figure I have to start somewhere."
"Why bother?" asked Ron dumbly. "Nobody here speaks it anyway. It's useless!"
Harry nearly groaned aloud at Ron's utter cluelessness. For one, he was learning French for good reason: his future wife and her family spoke it. Not to mention, he would likely spend the summer in France. But what galled him was that apparently Fleur didn't register on the boy's radar, at least not as a person!
Fleur quirked an elegant eyebrow at him. "Do your feet truly taste so good?" she snarked.
Hermione snorted into her pumpkin juice, and Ron got a confused look on his face. "Huh?" he asked intelligently.
"Nevair mind," sighed Fleur, and then she turned her attention back to Harry. "So what 'as you so angry, 'Arry?" she asked curiously.
Harry blinked. "How did you know?"
Fleur snorted indelicately. "I could feel ze 'eat of it from across ze 'all," she said with a raised eyebrow. "Zere was even a dark cloud over your 'ead."
Hermione fought down a grin at her directness, and though Harry figured it was probably fairly accurate, he rolled his eyes anyway. She'd brought his good mood back, and he didn't want to let it go, but he supposed it was a reasonable question, so he answered it.
"Oh," he said simply. "Just Snape. I really hate that git."
"Don't get him started, Fleur," warned Hermione. "We can't do anything about it, and it'll just make him mad again."
Fleur frowned slightly at her, but Harry noticed that it was more a thoughtful frown than the ones she gave Ron. Apparently she liked Hermione a bit better, which was hopefully a good thing. "What did 'e do?" she asked finally.
"Other than being his usual snarky self?" he asked rhetorically. "First he read one of Skeeter's articles about Hermione and me to the entire class, and then he accused me of stealing from the Potions stores. And when I denied it, he threatened to dose me with Veritaserum when I wasn't looking."
Fleur's eyes narrowed. "'E threatened you wiz a controlled potion?" she asked dangerously.
"I'm getting used to it, to be honest," scowled Harry. "He pretty much hates me."
Hermione groaned. "What do you want us to do about it, Harry?" she asked in exasperation. "There's nothing we can do! We've told McGonagall, and I even talked to the Headmaster about it once! They defend him at every turn, Merlin only knows why!"
"So we should sit and take it?" he countered. "That's not on, Hermione."
He wasn't sure why it was that he was suddenly so convinced that they could do something about Snape, but he knew they had to. After all, if the Dursleys could get theirs, then why not Snape? It would make the school a much more pleasant place, especially since it would force the Slytherins to be held accountable for their actions!
"'E is right," agreed Fleur, surprising him. "Veritaserum is not legal in a school. Even threatening its use is a... 'ow do you say?" Her face scrunched up almost as adorably as Gabrielle's often did. "Mis– misday–"
"Misdemeanor?" offered Harry.
"Oui!" she said with a bright smile. "Zat is ze word!"
Ron, who had gone back to staring hungrily at Fleur, suddenly brightened. "Wait, you mean we can get him arrested?"
"If only," scowled Harry. "Dumbledore's too high up, Ron. It wouldn't stick."
"Unless ze case is airtight," countered Fleur.
Harry blinked slowly as an idea formed. They had all made a small effort at getting Snape sacked at one time or another, but nobody ever believed them. And perhaps that was the crux of the issue: without proof, nobody was willing to believe a student over the word of a Professor...
"Are memories admissible in court?" he asked suddenly.
Fleur raised an eyebrow. "You would 'ave to ask Papa," she shrugged. "But I do not zink so."
"You'd have to catch him in a crime anyway," countered Hermione, ever the pessimist. "He hasn't actually done anything wrong."
"Hasn't he though?" retorted Harry. "How many students have been hurt in that class because he doesn't teach, Hermione?"
Hermione blinked.
"Talk to Papa," shrugged Fleur. "'E will know if you 'ave a case."
Harry couldn't help the slow, slightly evil smile that crept across his features, or the light that appeared in his eyes. Dealing a massive blow to Snape would be a dream come true! And if it was legal, then the git couldn't get back at him for it without opening an enormous can of worms!
"Uh oh," frowned Hermione.
"What?" asked Fleur bemusedly.
"He has that look," groaned Hermione. "Now nothing will stop him!"
Fleur reached over and placed a single slender finger under his chin, sending an unexpected wave of fire through him that made him shudder in pleasure. He had to admit, her touch did funny things to him, and he was relatively certain that it wasn't because of her allure. He was beginning to wonder what was going on with that.
Nevertheless, he didn't resist, and soon found himself facing a veela sporting an evil grin. This was not reassuring: he knew what veela were capable of! He narrowed his eyes slightly as he wondered if she had a Marauding side, so to speak...
"What?" he asked cluelessly.
"I think I like zis look," she said huskily. "I want to remember it."
Harry blushed to the roots of his hair at the way she spoke, and Hermione grinned widely at his discomfort. Ron, however, just had to go and ruin the moment: he stuck his finger down his throat and pretended to gag on it like a five-year-old in a schoolyard. Hermione smacked him hard on the shoulder, but before the oncoming argument could develop – fortunately for all involved – the twins chose to interrupt.
They were sitting only a few seats down, and had apparently been listening in, because they abruptly changed positions, coming up behind Hermione on either side. One of them pushed Ron over to make room, to his annoyance, and they immediately started in. Of course, they were the twins, so–
"We couldn't help–" said one.
"–but overhear–" said the other.
"–your conversation," they both finished at the same time.
"We have plenty of memories–"
"–if you want them."
"Any way to get rid of Snape–"
"–is fine by us!"
Even as distracted as he was by their antics, Harry still smirked evilly as more plans started forming in his head. Who wouldn't want to get rid of Snape? Other than the Slytherins, of course; they were favored, and therefore didn't count. Wouldn't they be shocked if the git was sacked? They used him like a shield, confident that he would overturn any punishment they received, and were therefore the source of most of the bullying in the castle!
Meanwhile, as Harry thought about it, Fleur was examining the twins rather closely through narrowed eyes. Harry glanced over and caught the expression, and raised an eyebrow. Somethingabout them had caught her attention, and sure enough–
"'ow do zey do zat?" she asked suspiciously.
"Do–" said one twin.
"–what?" said the other.
"Zat!" she said exasperatedly.
"Trade secret," said one of them.
"Yup, sorry," agreed the other, not at all apologetic.
Fleur blinked, and then speared them with a rather impressive glare. "Tell me!" she demanded.
Fred and George exchanged unreadable looks, and then– "No," they said simultaneously.
Harry could admit that he was impressed with their ability to face down that glare. That said, it had been a while since anyone had gotten their goats, and as he now had a plan for dealing with Snape, he was feeling pretty good. And he was feeling daring! And Fleur did have a sense of humor...
"Um, guys?" he called humorously.
"Yeah, Harrykins?" asked one of them – Fred if he wasn't mistaken.
"You do realize she's veela, right?" he prodded, an evil glint appearing in his eye.
"So?" asked George.
"Remember the World Cup?" he smirked.
Their eyes abruptly widened, and their gazes snapped back to Fleur, who was now sporting an evil grin to match Harry's. And Harry, for his part, was mildly relieved: he wasn't sure if she would take offense to being compared to the fire-throwing harpies from the World Cup, whether or not she actually was one! But apparently, it wasn't a problem.
After matching stares with her for a long moment, the twins finally narrowed their gazes, and Harry saw it when they decided to cut their losses. "Maybe later," said one.
"Definitely not in public," agreed the other.
Fleur smiled brightly at them and then turned to Harry. "We must learn zis," she grinned. "It will greatly disturb Grand-mère."
By this time, the entire group was staring at Fleur as though she'd grown a second head, and Harry could guess why. She was supposed to be the Bitch of Beauxbatons! But apart from her dealings with Ron, that image was nowhere to be found, and Harry had to admit, he liked this Fleur!
If she felt comfortable being like this all the time, or at least when she was with him, he would be thrilled! Of course, the Bitch had its uses – like beating up on Ron when he was acting the fool – but he rather enjoyed the idea of a Marauding veela to get up to mischief with. He hadn't done that in a non-life-and-death way, and it might be fun!
"I don't believe we've been introduced," noted a twin, interrupting his pleasant daydream.
"I'm Fred Weasley," said the other, offering a hand.
"And I'm George Weasley," said the first.
Fleur chuckled. "Pleasure," she nodded.
Both twins smiled toothily at her, and George spoke up again. "So you're hanging out with ickle Harrykins now?" he asked.
"Have to admit, that's a mighty big surprise," nodded Fred.
"Although, he did pull you out of the lake," mused George.
And then, to Harry's disquiet, they both turned deadly serious expressions on him. It was gone in a heartbeat, but he knew somehow that they knew! Or at least suspected! Of course, they covered it brilliantly...
"Something you want to tell us, Harrykins?" asked Fred.
"We'd really like to know your secret," nodded George in faux-solemnity.
Then they turned back to Fleur and simultaneously asked, "Know any veela twins?"
Fleur, who was looking concerned as she took a sip from her goblet at that very moment, sprayed juice all over the table in a very undignified fashion. Far from being concerned about it, though, she started laughing. Harry was dimly aware that the Great Hall had fallen silent at the sound, Hermione was staring at Fleur in open astonishment, and Ron had gone dreamy again, but he ignored all of it.
Instead, he drew his wand and calmly cleaned up her mess.
"I do not zink zat you would survive zem!" she laughed.
The twins pouted. "Introduce us?" requested Fred.
"Pleeeeease?" added George.
"You will 'ave to come to France," she smiled. "But if you come, I will introduce you. Do not get your 'opes up, zo. Zey are very picky, and I zink zey 'ave found boyfriends."
"Competition–"
"-is not a problem."
"We'll just prank them–"
"-until they drop!"
Fleur chortled and shook her head at the twins.
The rest of the meal went much more smoothly, though Ron would probably have a sore ankle for the number of times Hermione had to kick him under the table for staring at Fleur. For her part, Fleur simply ignored him, but really, it was going to be a problem if he couldn't get over his obsession with her. It was incredibly rude!
Not that he should really expect anything else from Ron...
As dinner neared its end, though, Harry tuned out the humorous conversation taking place, and turned back to planning. He really did want to get rid of Snape, and this was, quite possibly, the best way to do it short of sacking Dumbledore. He just needed to know if it would work.
"Fleur?" he called absently, not noticing the conversation he interrupted.
"'Arry?" she smiled.
"Is Sebastian around?" he asked. "I really want to talk to him about Snape."
Fleur shrugged elegantly. "We can always Floo to ze Chateau if 'e is not," she reminded him.
"Mind if they come with us?" he requested tentatively, nodding at the group across the table. "They'll have some pretty good memories for this."
Fleur must have detected his nervousness at asking the question, because she smiled gently at him, and her voice was softer when she spoke. "Zey are your friends, 'Arry," she said seriously. "You do not need to ask me for permission."
Shock rolled over him as he slowly came to understand her meaning, and the twins exchanged a significant look between them, but Harry ignored it. In fact, the only one oblivious to what she said was Ron: at some point in the last ten minutes he'd stopped listening and started drooling. It was disgusting!
Giving Fleur a small smile of thanks, he turned to his other two friends. He was hesitant to invite Ron, but he really didn't see an option unless he wanted to detonate their friendship on the spot. With an internal sigh, he shot a questioning look at them.
"Of course I'll come, Harry," smiled Hermione, understanding his meaning perfectly. "Someone has to keep you out of trouble."
"Ron?" he prompted.
The sound of his name shook Ron out of his daze, and Harry frowned, his eyes narrowing dangerously for a brief moment. On the other hand, perhaps it was time that Ron learned a lesson. Harry was not going to allow him to ogle his fiancée!
"Never mind," he decided eventually.
Hermione's eyes widened, as did Fleur's, but Harry ignored them and turned to walk out of the hall. The twins, having caught his displeasure, conveniently distracted Ron (he didn't want to know how) and caught up with them on the grounds. Harry nodded his thanks, and they resumed their trek to the Beauxbatons carriage.
Fleur was pensive for the first half of the trip, and then she finally drew him to a halt and said what was on her mind. "I do not care for 'im, 'Arry," she admitted softly, "but you do not need to exclude 'im for me."
Harry, however, felt differently, and on impulse, he reached over and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "What he's doing isn't right, Fleur," he said honestly. "I'm hoping that maybe getting left behind will get the message across." His expression darkening, he added, "Friend or not, he's not allowed to ogle you like a bloody piece of meat."
Fleur studied his expression carefully to determine the truth of his words, and then she smiled, leaned down, and kissed him gently on the cheek. "Merci, 'Arry," she whispered with surprising emotion.
Stunned by her actions, Harry never even realized when she stared walking again. Instead, his hand slowly came up to touch the spot her lips had touched. He could still feel his cheek tingling! She probably would've been forced to come back for him had the twins not come to the rescue.
They stepped up on either side of him and snagged his arms, propelling him forward.
"That is one hot bird," said Left Twin.
"And she likes you," nodded Right Twin.
"She likes you a lot."
"So do yourself a favor."
"Treat her right."
"And don't hack her off."
Harry smiled at their antics. "Too right," he agreed. "I'm starting to think this might not be so bad after all."
"Just don't forget to invite us to the wedding," they smirked simultaneously.
And somehow, Harry knew they weren't joking.
They entered Fleur's room in the carriage a short time later to find Sebastian sitting at a table amidst a rather large amount of paperwork, and Harry instantly felt guilty. The man was doing so much for him; could he really ask for even more? He started to waffle because of it, but Sebastian noticed them before he could change his mind.
"Fleur! 'Arry!" he greeted, getting up and rounding the table to give them both – to Harry's surprise – warm hugs. "And who are your friends?"
"Er, this is Fred and George Weasley," Harry said. "Not sure which is which, to be honest. And this is Hermione Granger, my best friend." Turning to his friends, he added, "Guys, meet Sebastian Delacour, Fleur's father."
They exchanged brief greetings, and then Sebastian chuckled as he eyed Fred and George. "I'm impressed," he noted. "No drooling."
"Papa!" exclaimed a scandalized Fleur.
"Nope," confirmed Fred.
"No drooling here," agreed George.
"Not that she isn't drool-worthy," frowned Fred.
"Definitely drool-worthy!" agreed George solemnly.
"But unlike certain other–"
"–members of our family who shall remain nameless–"
"–we actually have some self control–"
"–and a healthy fear of an angry Harry!"
"Too right!"
"He defeated Voldemort, what, three times now?"
"We don't stand a chance!"
Harry stared at them, nonplussed. He'd never thought about it that way before, but it was true that he'd defeated Voldemort three times, two of them knowingly! But did the twins really think it was that big of a deal? It was probably good that he couldn't tell.
For his part, Sebastian just laughed. "I like them already," he grinned. "So what brings you all 'ere?"
Harry lowered his gaze to the floor and shuffled his feet. "Er, we can come back if you're busy."
Fleur, however, was having none of it. She reached out and once again lifted his head by the chin. "Non," she said firmly. "'E is nevair too busy for you, 'Arry. You will learn zis soon enough."
"Quite right," agreed Sebastian, gracing his daughter with a smile. "So what is this about?"
Harry had to blink a tear from his eye, but quickly mastered himself. "I want to do something about Snivellus," he said finally. "I was thinking if we can get enough memories together, then maybe we can make something stick. I'm just not sure how to make it work."
Sebastian narrowed his eyes for a moment, and then motioned them over to the sitting area, while he himself went to gather a Pensieve from somewhere. He set it on the table when he returned, and fixed Harry with an attentive look. Harry was surprised at how good that simple action made him feel: he wasn't being ignored like he usually was!
"Talk to me, 'Arry," he said seriously. "Tell me what we are looking at."
Harry frowned for a moment. "Maybe we should just show you," he said slowly. "A couple of memories from each of us? That way you can see what we're dealing with. It's been going on for a long time."
"Then that is what we will do," nodded Sebastian.
Hermione looked surprised, but more than willing to go with it. She quickly explained that she was choosing a memory of a class period that Harry missed, because it proved that he was just as bad when Harry wasn't around. The twins, remarkably serious for them, also each entered a memory of their own.
Harry, for his part, put today's memory in, along with his first Potions class.
"First I want you to see the first class I had with him," he decided. "I'd never even met the man before. The other one I put in is today's, but other than that, I guess it doesn't matter what order we go in."
Sebastian nodded, and they were off. He was visibly annoyed by the time the memory of Harry's first potions class ended, and angry when he finished the memories from the others. And then he watched today's class.
Harry could only describe his rather frightening expression as pure, unadulterated rage.
Nobody spoke as Sebastian closed his eyes and pulled himself back together. Fleur was also visibly hacked off – and though he had no intention of mentioning it, he noticed a slight outgrowth around the base of her neck that looked like feathers. It was only there briefly, but it was there nonetheless, and a book he read on veela said that they had to be really angry to accidentally transform.
It made his heart swell that they cared so much, though he fervently hoped never to have their anger turned on him.
"Zat cochon!" burst Sebastian finally. "Zat batard is sabotaging 'is students, and 'is treatment of you is an abomination!"
The slight thickening of Sebastian's accent clued Harry in that this was no act. He was hacked! And rightfully so, in Harry's opinion; even he had a strong reaction to it after looking at it objectively like that!
"We've tried talking to McGonagall," said Hermione tentatively, "and I talked to the Headmaster once, but they won't listen."
"Of course not," snorted Sebastian. "He's Albus' pet Death Eater. He probably wants 'im as a spy for when Voldemort returns. Too bad 'e's not going to 'ave 'im if I 'ave any say in ze matter!"
Harry's expression dimmed considerably. "He's a Death Eater?" he hissed quietly.
Sebastian turned a serious expression on him, even as Fleur's hand found its way to his neck. "Tried and convicted," he said flatly as he calmed down. "'e was pardoned because 'e supposedly spied for us, but it was on Albus' word, and 'e won't tell anyone why 'e believes in Snape. That makes me think 'is reasons won't 'old up to scrutiny."
Harry closed his eyes and swayed in his seat as yet another wave of betrayal washed over him. The bastard was hiring Death Eaters to teach his students! The very people he was supposed to be fighting! Harry did not believe for a moment that Snape was reformed; he still acted the part of the Dark Wizard, and that said plenty.
The silence in the room was broken only by the creaking of a seat, and a moment later he felt Fleur's arms come all the way around him. Needing the comfort, he leaned into her and tried to let his anger run off. It was far more difficult than he expected.
Meanwhile, Sebastian started speaking again. "Pensieve memories are circumstantial evidence in court," he said slowly. "That will be our biggest problem."
It was the twins who responded in their usual alternating fashion, though he had never heard them do it before when they were serious.
"How about Veritaserum?"
"We can testify that the memory is accurate."
"Would that make it solid?"
Harry opened his eyes in time to see a surprised expression on Sebastian's face. "That might just work," he said with a slow nod. "I'll 'ave to talk to Madame Bones and see if there is precedent for or against, but I believe you might be on to something."
"Let us know if you need anything," offered a twin.
"All but the Slytherins want him gone," agreed the other.
Hermione even nodded her agreement with that, and then got her thoughtful look. "We need more than just us," she thought aloud. "If we present overwhelming evidence, even circumstantially, they won't have a choice, and most of the school would be willing to contribute. We should focus on incidents where students were actually harmed. Verbal abuse is wrong, but I'm not so sure it would stick as a crime."
Sebastian nodded thoughtfully. "I agree," he nodded, "but we need to get the evidence without Albus knowing, or 'e will try to block it."
"Leave that to us," smirked Fred.
"We know everyone," nodded George.
"All we have to do–"
"–is tell them we plan to–"
"–prank Snape!" they finished together.
Harry couldn't help his chuckle. "They have a point," he smirked evilly. "The students would do anything to see it, and the memories would be easy to get."
"Then let's see what we can do," nodded Sebastian. "And 'Arry?"
"Sir?" blinked Harry.
"Do not ever 'esitate to come to me," he said seriously. "No matter if it's something that you think is completely foolish, or even if you just want to talk. That is what I am 'ere for. Alright?"
Harry nodded, and had to wipe another tear from his eye because he was getting overwhelmed again. That was happening a lot lately...
"Thank you," he said quietly.
Chapter 11
First Date
Fleur sighed heavily as she fidgeted with her hair in front of the mirror. Had anyone told her two weeks ago that she would be nervous about a date with a younger boy, she would have laughed at them. Who would ever expect Fleur Delacour, Queen of Cold, to go out with someone three years younger and actually care about the outcome?
Not Fleur, that much was certain.
Given the circumstances, she should have been worried about making a good impression to ensure that he would still marry her, but she could not bring herself to do so. Instead, she wanted this to be a good day simply because he was a genuinely nice boy. And that he had so few good times to recall as it was, made her all the more determined.
She was relatively certain that when her father used the euphemism "less than ideal" to describe Harry's living conditions, he actually meant "abusive." It was hard to imagine – he was too famous to have a life like that, wasn't he? – but she could not think of any other reason for the warning not to question him. Between that and his reaction to Caterine that night, she could come to no other conclusion.
And that was to say nothing of his school career.
Fleur dropped her hands and leaned against the wardrobe for a moment as she was assaulted by the memories she had seen in the Pensieve. Truly, his experiences at Hogwarts would have been horrifying for someone three times his age. The diary alone was enough to give her nightmares.
When she learned that he had defeated a basilisk, she initially pictured a relatively small creature, but the one he fought was nothing of the sort. It was likely a thousand years old from what he said, and it was nearly sixty feet long. And he was bitten by the thing!
That he survived was amazing, and not simply for the physical danger that was involved.
Prior to the incident at Chateau Delacour, he appeared to her as a very well adjusted young man, if a little overly mature for his age. He was rather dour at times, but that was understandable given the dangers he was facing in the Tournament. But now she saw another side of him – a vulnerable side – that made her wonder how he could even go on.
She could not help but come to the conclusion that, just like her, he maintained a front to prevent others from learning who he really was inside. He hid behind his amazing courage, allowing it to dominate his interactions with others. Nobody knew that he was far from whole; that he was quite broken underneath that impressive strength.
It was guesswork on her part, but it made sense, and it made her want to help him – to give him the love that he so clearly lacked in his life. And so here she stood, primping in front of a mirror, trying to make herself even more beautiful for what would hopefully be a fun day in the nearby town. She had to admit that she was curious to know what he considered fun.
Shaking off her thoughts, Fleur glanced at herself in the mirror one last time before finally deciding that she was as presentable as she was going to get. She had gone to great lengths to look her best today, and it was a lot of work, even given her heritage. This was not something she would have done for just anybody – her natural beauty usually carried her through – but she was certain that he would appreciate it.
She found a bright, warm morning awaiting her when she stepped out of the carriage, and she savored it as she walked slowly to the castle.
When she reached the Great Hall, Fleur was unsurprised to see Harry already sitting with his friends. As always, many heads turned as she moved toward the Gryffindor table to join them, but she tried to ignore the unwelcome attention as best she could. Unfortunately, she was dressed up enough that even the boys who had some self control were staring, and she suddenly wondered at the wisdom of her decision.
Was this what would happen in Hogsmeade? The last thing Harry needed was more attention, and if they were spotted in town, it would likely get around quickly. She frowned at the thought, but then abruptly pushed it aside; people were going to have to get used to it, so there was no use in worrying.
Between his fame and her beauty, there was little they could do to avoid being noticed.
Snorting morbidly to herself, Fleur made her way up the aisle. Harry was sitting with his back to her – which was unusual since he normally liked to watch the rest of the Hall at meals – with Ron and Hermione seated across from him. Ron looked up at her approach, and his eyes glazed over, his expression instantly losing cohesion.
He was worse than almost any other boy she had ever had the displeasure of meeting! Granted, he was young, but this was going a bit far, and she did not know what to do about it. How was she supposed to avoid destroying Harry's friendship with him when he could barely string two words together in her presence?
And Harry noticed it quickly, as usual. He stiffened, his gaze fixed on the obnoxious boy, and she did not need to see his face to know that he was scowling. Still buried in her book, Hermione was oblivious at the moment.
Fleur put it from her mind, though, and laid her hand against the nape of Harry's neck in greeting. "Bonjour," she said, gracing him with a genuine smile.
The smile he sent back to her was unusually shy, even for him. "Morning," he returned quietly.
Clearly he was nervous, but for his sake, where she would have teased another boy, she ignored it and slid gracefully into the seat beside him, which he was obviously saving for her. His eyes followed her down, a mixture of emotions playing behind them. Yes, he was nervous, but he was also pleased to see her. She was mesmerized by it for a moment, and could not look away.
But then–
Thump.
"Hey!" griped Ron. "Stop kicking me, Hermione!"
"We talked about this not five minutes ago, Ronald," she scowled. "Knock it off!"
"Sorry," he grumbled darkly.
Fleur winced, and Harry's face fell, morphing into a scowl as he turned to send a meaningful glare at his friend. She did not have to guess to know that the issue of Ron's inattention the previous evening had been discussed, and it was clear that neither Harry nor Hermione were happy with the boy. She was both flattered and horrified by that fact.
With an inward sigh, though, she did her best to ignore it, and simply reached for the food and began to dish up while watching Harry from the corner of her eye. He was even quieter than usual this morning, probably out of nerves, and was not eating much. In fact, five minutes into the meal, he took to nervously shredding a napkin with his fingers, his food all but forgotten.
Fleur finally reached over and snatched it from him with an amused smile. "You are making a mess," she informed him. "I am not zat scary, am I?"
Harry blinked up at her and promptly blushed. "Sorry," he grumbled in embarrassment.
Her smile softened sympathetically, and she gently combed her fingers through his hair in silent apology. He closed his eyes in response, a small smile playing briefly on his lips; it was clear to her that, despite his issues with physical contact, he greatly enjoyed it from those he truly trusted. Whether or not that included her was another question, but she was resolved to get him used to it.
Her internal musings were interrupted however, when–
"So where are we going first?" asked Ron.
Fleur arched an eyebrow at his presumption, but said nothing.
"Sorry, Ron, I have a date," said Harry quietly.
Ron stared at him for a moment, and then snorted derisively. "Uh huh," he said skeptically. "With who?"
Fleur's hackles rose at the boy's obviously low opinion of Harry's chances with the girls. He was handsome, famous, brave, and so incredibly sweet, that she doubted almost anyone would deny him! She had to wonder if Ron could possibly be so clueless as he appeared, and for once, the disgusted expression that appeared on her features was entirely genuine.
"I should zink zat would be obvious," she scowled.
Ron's eyes bulged. "You're going with her?" he asked Harry incredulously.
"Yes, Ron," sighed Harry with remarkable patience. "I'm going with her."
Ron blinked stupidly back at him. Fleur could not tell what he was thinking – or even if he was doing so at all. It was obvious that he didn't believe his best friend rated her as a date though, and that made her wonder why they were friends at all. She would not have put up with someone who had such a low opinion of her.
"Oh," he finally said, shaking himself out of his daze. Then he turned instead to the girl next to him, who still had her nose in a book. "So where are we going, Hermione?" he asked.
The thunderous scowl that appeared on Hermione's face at the question was something to behold. While Fleur could certainly have given her some pointers given her long experience, she was still seriously impressed! The way she stared imperiously down her nose at the redhead from over the top of her book was positively masterful.
"Don't you ever listen?" she asked him disgustedly. "I told you last week that I have a date, Ron!"
"You do?" asked Harry in sudden surprise. "I don't remember you saying anything about it, and I'm not usually that ignorant."
Hermione's expression softened as she turned toward him. "Neville asked me while you were having dinner with Sebastian," she explained, even as a small smile appeared on her lips. "He was really sweet about it, so I said yes."
"What?" yelped Ron before Harry could respond. "You're going with Neville? Squib Neville?"
"Don't call him that!" snarled Hermione.
"What? It's true, innit?"
"He does better in class than you do, Ron!"
Fleur's gaze bounced back and forth between them as the argument picked up steam, and she could not help but feel like she was intruding. And, surprisingly enough, Harry looked like he felt the same way. The frown he wore said it all, and finally he turned to her with a resigned expression.
"Er, do you want to go?" he asked tentatively. Fleur eyed her nearly untouched breakfast, but then Harry smiled shyly at her. "We can get breakfast in Hogsmeade if you want," he offered. "I didn't eat much either."
Fleur glanced with mild disgust at the still-arguing pair. Not that she could blame Hermione for it – the girl had good reason to be annoyed – but it wasn't something she cared to listen to. How Harry put up with it was quite a mystery, and even as a mere guest in the castle, she was well aware that this was not an uncommon occurrence between those two. She really didn't need to see it up close and personal.
And so, with that in mind...
"Oui," she said decisively. "Let us find somewhere more... peaceful."
==========[break]==========
Harry thought breakfast went reasonably well, with the notable exception that the conversation was somewhat stilted. This was completely new territory for him, and he had no idea what to talk about with Fleur. He had to give her credit, though: she was very patient with him, and not once did she seem like she was annoyed.
She also agreed to meet Sirius that afternoon, which was something, at least.
They spent most of the morning wandering from shop to shop, and though conversation was all but nonexistent, Fleur appeared to be having a good time. He paid close attention as she browsed, noting what she liked and didn't. He was surprised to find that she loved the little things, and all but ignored the bigger, more expensive items.
He wasn't bored, per se, but this wasn't at all how he pictured a date going. There weren't even any fancy restaurants in Hogsmeade where he could take her for lunch or dinner! His only concession to a romantic encounter was when he stopped to buy her flowers; she was delighted by the gesture, and now wore a single red rose in her hair over her right ear.
But as they finally sat down for lunch in the Three Broomsticks, his nerves finally caught up with him, and he couldn't help his distraction. As the silence stretched on, he stared over her shoulder, his mind spinning with worry. What was he thinking, asking someone like Fleur on a date? She was way out of his league!
But then–
"'Arry?" she called.
He focused back on the present to find her watching him with an understanding smile that he felt he didn't deserve. She had truly gone to a great deal of effort for him – she was gorgeous on any given day, but today she was something else entirely – and here he was, bolluxing it up! What was he supposed to say?
"Is somezing wrong?" she prompted with a slight frown, a worried crease appearing on her forehead.
Harry stared at her for a long moment. A large part of him wanted to leave and forget that this so-called date ever happened, but he couldn't do that to her. He had to at least try, considering that they were supposed to get married soon!
"Yeah," he heard himself sigh. "Sorry, Fleur, this is just... awkward, you know?" To his horror, once the floodgates were opened, he couldn't get them closed again. "I mean, what am I supposed to be doing?" he babbled. "I don't even know what to talk about! And, what do you even like to do? Are you bored? I didn't mean to–"
Fleur abruptly silenced his sudden nervous tirade by reaching across the table and pressing a finger to his lips. "I 'ave enjoyed ze morning very much, 'Arry," she said softly, with that same understanding smile. "It will take time for us to get to know each ozzer, non?"
Harry blinked. "Yeah, I guess," he sighed. "This is just weird, you know?"
"Is it because I am older?" she asked curiously.
Harry frowned and dropped his gaze to the table as he thought about that. Was that the reason this was so awkward? No, he didn't think so. It was more that he had only asked her out because he felt it was the right thing to do, not because he actually wanted to date her. Was that the source of the problem?
Finally he shook his head and looked up to fix her with a thoughtful expression.
"That's not it," he mused. And then he sighed. "Maybe you're right," he said with a shrug. "We just have to get to know each other, I guess."
Fleur smiled a genuine smile at him and brushed her hair back over her shoulder so she could lean forward and put her elbows on the table. He watched as she propped her chin on her hands, and was surprised by the genuinely interested look in her beautiful blue eyes. It wasn't a demanding one; just simple curiosity near as he could tell.
"Zen per'aps we should start," she suggested. "So tell me, 'Arry, what do you like to do for fun?"
Harry blinked bemusedly back at her for a long moment, but then, as he realized that they finally had a topic of conversation, a small smile appeared on his lips. Was that his problem? That he was beating around the bush, trying to avoid asking direct questions like that one?
It was an easy enough problem to solve...
"Well," he said slowly, his smile growing as he thought about it, "I guess flying has to be my favorite..."
==========[break]==========
Fleur was immensely relieved. She had watched over the course of the morning as he folded into himself, withdrawing further and further as time went by, but she could not figure out what to do about it. But then lunch came, and somehow – by some miracle – she managed to get him to open up a little.
He relaxed more and more as they traded questions and answers, and, with some surprise, she realized that it was also putting hermore at ease. She had been so focused on making the day enjoyable for him, that she had not even realized how awkward she was feeling herself. And now that awkwardness was all but gone!
It was perhaps fortunate that they were at a secluded table in the back where no one could see them, because they remained there, simply talking, until it was time to meet his godfather. It was interesting hearing his perspectives, desires, and dreams, and though she was well aware that they had barely scratched the surface, it was still a very good start. She hoped he felt the same way.
She even managed to snag his hand as they left the tavern, and he smiled in response.
They were early reaching the stile where he was supposed to meet his godfather, and Fleur wondered what would happen if she gave things another little push. And the more she thought about it, the more she thought it might be a good idea. It was highly unlikely that Harry would be the one to start anything.
She did not yet love him in the way she wanted to, but she did care greatly for him, and that would be enough for now. Having love in her life was important to her – it had always been her greatest fear that her allure would prevent her from finding it – and she was beginning to suspect that he might be able to give her that someday. She did not want to be a big sister to him, so why not do something to help set the tone?
And with that in mind, as they came to a halt at the stile, Fleur interrupted his search of the surrounding area by gently grabbing his chin and turning his head toward her.
He looked at her in confusion, and though she could admit that she was nervous and felt a bit awkward about it, she leaned in, causing his eyes to widen. She was surprised when he didn't tense up much; it was as though he simply gathered his courage and went with it. He was clearly nervous, but also as curious as the next boy.
The kiss was nothing special – at least as far as she knew, given that she had never kissed a boy before – but it was nevertheless one that she would remember for the rest of her life. Their lips brushed cautiously, tentatively, but with caring feeling, and it struck her as a perfect corollary to their budding relationship. And while it was not passionate, it was not a mere peck either.
And then something cold and wet abruptly stuck itself between her legs.
==========[break]==========
One thing Harry hadn't yet considered where Fleur was concerned was that they might actually snog. It was a startling concept, and caught him completely off guard, but yet he lost himself in it, truly enjoying the sensation. As nervous as he was about it, it was still far better than he ever would have imagined!
And then Fleur let out a startled yelp and danced away from him, nearly knocking him over in the process.
Bewildered, and worried that he'd done something wrong, his eyes shot open – only to come to rest on a shaggy black dog that was currently trying to stick its nose in her crotch while she repeatedly batted it away. With an irritated scowl, Harry drew his wand and snapped off a stinging hex, catching him on the hindquarters.
Now it was the dog's turn to let out a startled yelp.
"Knock it off, Padfoot!" he scowled. "Or I'll freeze your nose to the stile and leave you here!"
Fleur looked relieved when the dog backed off to lay on his belly, covering his eyes with his paws and whining pitifully. Harry snorted in morbid amusement – and suddenly found himself hoping that his godfather wouldn't pull a Ron where Fleur was concerned. That would be embarrassing! And he was rather annoyed that he'd just had his first ever kiss interrupted...
"Serves you right," he grumbled. And then he saw a light of realization dawn in Fleur's eyes, and sighed. "Fleur, meet Padfoot," he introduced. "Padfoot, Fleur. She knows, so let's go somewhere and talk, yeah?"
Fleur's eyes narrowed. "Zis cabot zat just interrupted out first kiss is Padfoot?" she asked dangerously, drawing a worried look from the dog in question.
Under other circumstances Harry would have been worried – she was veela, and he was not looking forward to discovering her temper – but he could see a glint of humor in her eyes. He suddenly had a feeling that Sirius was in for a bad day, and returned briefly to his daydreams of Marauding veela, but quickly shook it off.
"You're in trouble now, Padfoot!" he suddenly grinned.
Fleur smirked evilly.
Yes, Padfoot might have a very bad day indeed.