Chapter 12
...Now With Extra Padfoot!
Fleur was apparently a big fan of nature hikes, and Harry filed that away for future reference. Maybe he could arrange a better date next time now that he knew. Of course, he only knew this in the first place because of the incredibly wide – and extremely evil – smile she wore for the duration of the trip to Padfoot's cave. The canine in question led them a merry chase, and she was clearly having the time of her life.
Of course, the chase – and her enjoyment of it – may have had something to do with the fact that she was repeatedly demonstrating her amazing proficiency with cosmetic Charms as they scrambled after him...
By the time they reached the cave, she'd somehow managed to hit him with no less than ten Charms and hexes, and probably closer to twenty. His fur had been hit with so many color changing Charms that he would've fit right in with a group of American hippies! She also managed to style his hair up a bit, resulting in a windswept mohawk that trailed down from his head all the way to his tail.
It was bright Slytherin green.
When they reached their destination, Padfoot took cover behind Buckbeak, who was tethered in the back of the cave. Harry and Fleur scrambled in after him huffing and puffing, and Fleur, who was in the lead, came to a screeching halt. She eyed the sleeping hippogriff warily, but wisely chose not to approach.
Padfoot morphed into Sirius, and then–
"Alright! I give!" he yelped.
Fleur stepped forward with an evil grin, and an equally evil light in her eyes. She crossed her arms and gave him an expectant look, foot tapping idly in the dirt. Harry smirked; his daydreams about Marauding veela were coming true!
"I think you owe someone an apology, Sirius," he grinned knowingly.
"Mmmm," nodded Fleur in an agreement, arching an eyebrow at the offender. "You should use caution, Meester Black. You are not ze only one 'oo can transform, and ze next time, your nose may become... charred."
Harry's smirk only grew when Sirius cautiously stepped forward and then suddenly dropped to his knees in front of her. "I'm sorry!" he gushed. "I'll never do it again, just don't hex me anymore! Please, I'm begging you!"
Harry chortled, and Fleur finally holstered her wand. "Bon," she grinned, "I will 'old you to zat."
And with that, she withdrew and took a position next to Harry, turning to give him a bright smile. Her cheeks were pink with exertion, and it only made her look that much more beautiful. He would let her chase his godfather all she wanted if it kept that delighted sparkle in her eyes, and he could not help but smile brightly back at her.
They didn't bother to inform Sirius that he now had a green streak down the middle of his head.
Looking like he, too, had just had the time of his life, Sirius grinned and swept Harry up in a warm, welcoming hug. Harry had to guess that it'd been a while since he'd had so much fun, and that dimmed his mood slightly, though he quickly pushed it away. He wouldn't ruin the day by worrying about his godfather's plight, when he could help the man forget for a while instead.
When Sirius finally pulled back, he eyed Fleur with interest. "So who's the bird, Harry?" he asked curiously.
A slow, evil smile grew on Harry's face. "Well..." he said slowly. "I suppose I should probably introduce you." Fleur must have noticed his look, because her grin reappeared, and he decided to lay it on thick. "Sirius Black," he intoned, "allow me to introduce my beautiful fiancée, Fleur Delacour. Fleur, meet my godfather, Sirius Black."
Sirius snorted and rolled his eyes disbelievingly. "Why, it's a pleasure to meet you, Madame," he said with a suave bow that did not at all match his starved, escaped-convict look. Then he paused for a moment, turning thoughtful, before– "Any relation to Sebastian Delacour?"
Harry blinked.
"Oui," she smiled. "'E is my fazzer."
"Hmph," grunted Sirius. "Well that explains that, then."
"Huh?" asked Harry.
Sirius reached into a pocket and pulled out a letter that looked like it'd been read at least a thousand times. It was wrinkled, the edges frayed, and – to Harry's surprise – it was written on familiar parchment. As he took it from Sirius, a mere glance at the handwriting showed that it was indeed from Sebastian:
Mr. Black,
I have recently come into possession of circumstantial evidence indicating that you were falsely accused of your alleged crimes. Also, a foray into the British Ministry Archive indicates that you have never received a trial, fair or otherwise. France considers this a grave injustice, and the ignorance of Minister Fudge only underscores the matter.
To that end, we would like to offer you asylum, with the caveat that you must testify under Veritaserum as to your innocence. While we cannot force the hand of the British Ministry at this time, we can at least provide you with safety and comfort. If you accept this offer, all of your needs will be provided for.
I hope that you will seriously consider this opportunity. You deserve a safe home, and if you accept, I will personally see to it that you have one.
Sincerely,
Seigneur Sebastian Alexandre Delacour
Director of Foreign Affairs
Ministry of Magic, France
Harry was dimly aware of Fleur moving to read over his shoulder as he stared in shock at the letter. It had only been a few days since Sebastian even found out about this! How had he managed to move so quickly?
"He did it!" he breathed. Then a wide, amazed smile appeared on his face as he turned his attention to Fleur. "He really did it!"
"Of course 'e did," she smiled back. "It was important to you, and zat is wizout considering ze 'orrible nature of ze injustice."
Harry nodded and stared back down at the letter. Granted, it took saving his daughter's life and effectively trapping her into marriage for this to happen, but still... He was away from the Dursleys; Snape would soon be gone if they had their way; and now Sirius was going to be free!
"The only reason I haven't answered that letter is you, Harry," said Sirius, his earlier joviality suddenly vanishing. "I want to be near you, and if I go to France..."
Harry's head snapped up, his eyes widening in horror, but Fleur got there first; she shook her beautiful head, sending pretty ripples through her silvery hair, and pinned Sirius with an amused smirk. "Eef you to go to France," she said, "zen you will see 'im quite frequently, Meester Black, I assure you. 'E 'as already been zere once last week."
Sirius blinked bemusedly.
By now, Harry's stomach had twisted itself in knots in fear that Sirius would reject the invitation. "Please, Sirius," he said hoarsely. "I need you to be safe, and they'll find you if you stay too long. Sebastian can protect you, and I swear I'll be okay."
Harry could not take his eyes off his godfather, who obviously had many questions, and for the first time that he could recall, he actually felt relief at someone's touch. Fleur's arms came around him from behind, pulling him close, her warm embrace keeping his panic at bay. He knew his fears weren't rational – Sirius was a grown man – but he didn't want to lose any more family, and he had the distinct sense that he was going to decline the offer!
"My fazzer is looking after 'im, Meester Black," came Fleur's soft musical voice, even as her chin came to rest on the crown of his head. "You will be able to see 'im much more frequently even zan you can now." She paused for a moment, before– "It is very important zat you stay safe. 'Arry needs you, and you cannot 'elp 'im if zey catch you."
Sirius' met Fleur's steady gaze over Harry's head, and he studied her for a long moment before finally nodding. "You're sure about this guy, Harry?" he asked tentatively. "No offense to your friend here, but I know nothing about him other than he's big in political circles."
"He's a good guy, Sirius," replied Harry earnestly. "We have a lot to tell you, but he's done more for me in the past week than anyone else ever has. He's trying to help you because I asked him to."
Sirius studied him for a long moment, and then his gaze flicked up to Fleur again before he finally shook his head and motioned for them to pull up a patch of dirt. "Maybe you'd better tell me what's going on," he decided. "I'm obviously missing something."
"Just tell me you'll do this," begged Harry. "Please!"
Sirius' brow creased in worry at Harry's tone, and he studied his godson as he lowered himself to the floor. Harry followed suit, and Fleur sat down behind him, once again wrapping him in her arms, and this time resting her chin on his shoulder. He soaked up her comfort as his nerves jangled in anticipation of his godfather's answer.
"Alright," nodded Sirius finally. "I'll go, but you need to tell me everything."
Sirius exchanged another look with Fleur over his head, and Harry blew out a relieved breath. "Thank you," he sighed. "It's a long story, Sirius. This all happened last week, which is why you don't know about it yet."
"Go on," urged Sirius.
Now that he had Sirius' tentative agreement – he was sure he couldn't find fault with the plan after the explanation – Harry felt his former good mood rapidly returning. A faint smirk came over him, his eyes twinkling mischievously as he stared back at his godfather. This was going to be interesting...
"Well," he said quietly, deciding to drop the bomb on him all at once. "First of all, I wasn't lying earlier. Fleur really is my fiancée."
Sirius blinked bemusedly at him. "I like pranks as much as the next guy, Harry," he said, "but somehow I just can't see Vernon and Petunia signing off on that."
Harry developed a vindictive grin at the mention. "Oh, they signed off alright," he said darkly. "On that and so much more. They will never know what hit them."
His godfather's eyebrows shot into his hairline at that declaration. It was apparent that he could read the truth in Harry's eyes, because the disbelief had all but vanished, replaced with genuine confusion, and a fair bit of worry. He frowned for a moment before shifting to make himself more comfortable, and in the process he snagged the bag that they'd brought from the Three Broomsticks for him.
"Alright, Harry," he said seriously, "I think I need this one from the top."
"What do you know about the Second Task?" asked Harry without missing a beat.
Sirius shrugged. "Just what was in the papers," he admitted. "You tied for first, and showed up at the finish line with–" He broke off and blinked for a moment, and then slowly finished, "with the Beauxbatons Champion."
Fleur chuckled throatily at him. "Yes, Meester Black," she said in an amused tone, "I am ze Beauxbatons Champion."
Sirius blinked in surprise, and Harry continued. "She was attacked by grindylows in the lake," he explained. "I helped her out a bit, and it had... consequences."
Fleur gave him a squeeze. "You do not take enough credit, 'Arry," she sighed. Then to Sirius, "'E saved my life, Meester Black. I would 'ave died if 'e 'ad not been zere. Zat is why we must soon marry."
Sirius shook his head sharply as though to clear it. "Okay..." he said slowly. "First of all, it's Sirius or Padfoot. Now, I get the saving your life thing, that's just Harry–" Harry blushed "–but the whole marriage thing is going right over my head."
Fleur snorted in morbid amusement, and Harry frowned. Sirius Black of old undoubtedly knew what veela were, and he would have considered them perfect women! That he couldn't recognize one was worrisome; Azkaban must have done more damage than he initially thought.
"Er, Sirius?" he said slowly. "Haven't you noticed anything... off... about Fleur?"
Fleur chuckled at Harry's phrasing, the vibration of it running pleasantly up Harry's spine.
Sirius frowned. "You mean other than the fact that she's been tugging on my mind since I first laid eyes on her?" he asked with an arched eyebrow. "What is that, anyway? Feels like some kind of bloody aphrodisiac."
"Can you think of no being zat 'as such an effect on men, Padfoot?" asked Fleur softly.
His forehead creased in concentration as he contemplated the question, and Harry started to wonder if maybe some professional help wouldn't do him some good. While it was possible that he really didn't know what Fleur was, Harry somehow doubted it. And sure enough–
"Veela?" he breathed, his eyes going wide.
"Very good," nodded Fleur, her silky hair rubbing against Harry's cheek. "Do you understand why we must marry?"
Sirius stared at her for an interminable moment before finally shaking himself out of his shock and rubbing his face with his hands. The food had been all but forgotten, which was saying something since it didn't look like he'd been getting enough to eat. Harry waited patiently for him to collect himself, and then–
"Yeah, I get it," he admitted, fixing Harry with a worried look. "You sure you're okay with this, kiddo? It's an awfully big step."
Harry felt Fleur tense at the question, but he took a page from her book and gave her hands a squeeze where they were clasped over his belly. "I have to be, Sirius," he replied honestly. "But yeah, I think I'll be okay. Fleur and I have a lot to work out, but..."
He trailed off with a shrug, and Sirius searched his eyes for the truth. Harry held his gaze impassively; he'd made his decision, and knew that once his godfather was aware of that simple fact, he would support him. Besides, he couldn't see Sirius sacrificing Fleur's life any more than he himself could.
One would almost have to be a Dark Wizard to do something like that!
Finally, his gaze travelled over to Fleur. "What about you?" he asked simply.
Harry felt her give a small shrug. "It is not what I would 'ave chosen," she admitted quietly, "but if I must marry someone not of my choice, then I cannot zink of anyone I would rather be wiz zan 'Arry."
A rush of embarrassed pleasure overcame him at her calm, confident, and palpably honest words, and his cheeks heated in response. He had no idea why she would think that – he was just a kid with a lot of problems – but he could tell that she believed it. He wasn't sure how he should feel about it, but it did make him feel more than a bit honored.
But rather than say anything, he merely gave her hands another squeeze, though he could not fight the pleased smile that found its way to his lips.
Sirius shook his head at them in wonder. "Well, congratulations, then," he smirked. "I have to admit, kiddo, James would've been impressed."
Harry snorted. "Probably right after he finished going mental because his son'll be married in two weeks," he grumbled.
"Two weeks?" yelped Sirius. "You're only fourteen!"
"Zere is no choice, Padfoot," sighed Fleur. "I can already feel ze debt calling to me, and it will only get worse. I 'ave three, per'aps four weeks before it will take my magic, and I cannot survive without magic."
Sirius shook his head in defeat and finally reached for the food again. Nobody spoke as he dug through the bag, obviously still processing everything he'd just learned. Harry and Fleur remained silent, the latter tightening her grip on him and pressing her cheek up against his own, almost as though she was nervous about his reaction.
Not that Harry could blame her; he was nervous himself. Would Sirius be upset about it? While he wouldn't call it off – and he would support it in the end – it didn't mean that he would like it. Then again, Harry supposed that no adult in their right mind would like it...
Five minutes and several biscuits later, he finally sighed, breaking the tense silence.
"Alright," he said, "I guess there's nothing else that can be done about that?"
"Non," admitted Fleur nervously. "Unless I save 'is life in ze next few weeks..."
Sirius snorted morbidly. "Yes, because it's so likely that it won't be the other way around," he said sarcastically. "But I digress. I guess this is how you met Seigneur Delacour?"
Harry nodded. "Yeah," he said. "He investigated me when he found out, and... he found some things, Sirius. Things that mean I can't trust Dumbledore."
Sirius paused in his attack on a defenseless chicken leg. "What things?" he asked through a deep frown.
Harry took a deep breath. This was the part he really didn't want to tell the man, but he needed to know – and it wasn't like there were any other options. And to be honest, Harry was happy with the way things were for the moment, and didn't want it to change.
That said, he had no idea how Sirius would react – but there was no time like the present...
"First of all, he found out how screwed up things were with the Dursleys," he said in a low tone. "When I said they signed off on a lot, I meant it. To make a long story short, he acted like he would do away with me if they signed over custody, and they did it."
Sirius surged to his feet upon hearing this, a thunderous scowl appearing on his face, and Harry instinctively pushed himself back into Fleur with quite a bit of force. For one crazy moment he thought that Sirius was going to lay into him, but then–
"THEY TRIED TO HAVE YOU KILLED?"he roared.
Harry paled.
"Zat is enough, Sirius," snapped Fleur. "Zey are being dealt wiz, and zere is no point in becoming angry."
Sirius' eyes narrowed dangerously at her. "How?" he rasped, reminding Harry abruptly that his godfather had a dark side. He was, after all, the man who had intended to kill Pettigrew for his betrayal...
"Zey are going to prison," she said simply. "We do not know any more zan zat. You would 'ave to ask Papa."
Sirius stared at her for a very long moment, and then closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. Harry relaxed a little; he wasn't afraid of Sirius, but he still wasn't a big fan of loud, angry voices. It reminded him too much of Vernon...
Finally the man sat down again, and the look in his eyes was much saner when he opened them. "So he's your guardian now?" he asked, point blank.
Harry looked away, not wanting to see his reaction, and unable to prevent a small amount of guilt from intruding on his consciousness. "Yeah," he whispered. "He's been really good to me, Sirius."
There was a brief pause before–
"Look at me, kiddo," ordered Sirius calmly.
Harry hesitated for a moment, but then turned to look at Sirius – only to find a relieved look on his face, to his considerable surprise. "You trust him, right?" he asked calmly.
Harry nodded. "Yeah, I do," he admitted. "He's been straight with me."
"Then I'm glad, Harry," said Sirius quietly, reaching over to pat his knee. "I never liked those gits, and I've had more than one argument with Albus about it since I got out. As long as he treats you right, I'm fine with it."
Sirius looked him in the eye as he said it, and Harry had no choice but to believe. It relieved a fear that he hadn't even known he had, and he felt quite a bit lighter for it. Now all he had to do was tell him the rest.
"Thanks," he said quietly, "but that's not all."
Sirius frowned again. "Oh?" he asked warily.
Harry nodded. "How rich were my parents?" he asked simply.
Sirius blinked bemusedly at the non-sequitur. "Well," he said slowly, "they were pretty well off I suppose. Potter Manor was pretty impressive. Why?"
Harry was instantly distracted. "Potter Manor?" he frowned.
"I think it was destroyed in the war," said Sirius, motioning for him to get on with it. "I'm not sure, though."
He made a mental note to ask about that at some point, and then shook himself out of his momentary daze. "I didn't know about any of it, Sirius," he said darkly. "All I have is a small trust vault. And want to take a guess at who my financial guardian is?"
Sirius stared blankly at him, his face darkening alarmingly. "Albus?" he growled.
"Yes," said Harry flatly. "Sebastian is looking into it, but he says I should have a lot more than I do."
Harry watched his reaction closely. He pinched the bridge of his nose, and was clearly fighting to tamp down his anger at the revelation. Harry could relate; he'd felt much the same way when it registered with him, and he still didn't know what to do about it.
"He's checking into it?" asked Sirius hopefully.
"Yeah," confirmed Harry. "We're taking care of it after the wedding. There's too much going on right now to deal with it. Dumbledore doesn't know about any of this, by the way, and Sebastian thinks it should stay that way."
Sirius nodded, clearly overwhelmed. "He's probably right," he said darkly. "Anything else?"
Harry thought hard for a moment, but couldn't come up with anything, except–
"Only one more thing," he added, an evil smirk growing on his lips. "And you'll like this one, Padfoot. It'll be the best prank on Hogwarts in a long time."
Sirius' eyebrows went up. "Oh?" he challenged. "That's a tall order, Harry."
"How does getting Snivellus arrested sound?" he asked with an evil grin.
Sirius stared at him for a long moment, and then his own smile grew. "You're serious?" he asked hopefully.
"Oui," confirmed Fleur. "Papa is 'elping zem build ze case."
"He's going down, Sirius," said Harry, suddenly all business. "At least if we have anything to say about it. We won't let Dumbledore protect him this time. We're collecting memories from every student we can find, and we want to show them in court if we can pull it off. Sebastian thinks it'll work."
Sirius looked like Christmas had come early. Harry had not forgotten that they were bitter enemies in their childhoods, nor that the greasy bastard was one of the reasons that Pettigrew escaped last year. Had they not had to deal with Snape, things might have gone much more smoothly...
"Excellent," he said evilly. "Tell me more!"
Harry smirked, and they proceeded to spend the next hour discussing the coming downfall of Snivellus Snape. Now that all the important stuff had been covered, Harry found himself relaxing considerably. He hadn't realized just how worried he was about filling Sirius in – and he doubted that he'd heard the last of it – but it was nice to have it out in the open. There were few he could trust with the details.
In fact, other than the Delacours, Hermione was still the only other one who knew everything. He couldn't tell Ron – the boy couldn't keep a secret to save his life – but at least he had one friend he could truly trust. It made him realize just how much he valued her friendship, and he resolved to do something nice for her at the next available opportunity.
Soon the conversation drifted, and it wasn't long before Sirius started questioning Fleur to get to know her a bit. Harry fell silent at this, and found relaxing into her embrace, enjoying the way her chest vibrated against him as she spoke. He'd never been held like this before – ever – and he hoped that it wouldn't be the last time.
Finally, though, the time came for them to return to school, and he was forced to give up his pleasant position and return to reality. It wasn't long before he'd exchanged a parting hug with his godfather and extracted another promise that he would head to France as soon as possible.
"I'll see you soon, kiddo," offered Sirius. "Keep in touch." And then to Fleur, he added, "and you take good care of him. He's the only godson I've got."
"You need not worry about zat," she replied with a genuine smile.
"We'd better get going," sighed Harry. "It's getting late, and we still have to hike back."
"Yeah, one more thing before you go," frowned Sirius, leaving Harry wondering at the sheepish expression he was wearing.
"What is it?" he asked.
Harry was surprised when Sirius turned to Fleur.
"Will you take the hexes off if I beg nicely? Tie died dog just doesn't blend in well."
Chapter 13
Dumbledore's First Clue
Tuesday morning found Harry once again eating breakfast with the Gryffindors. The twins had become a regular fixture, and Neville was sitting with them as well. The latter was currently whispering soothingly to his new girlfriend, who looked like she was running on a serious lack of sleep.
And then Fleur trudged into the Hall looking much the same.
The difference was extremely subtle – a slight dimming of the usual glow her skin gave off, and unusual bleakness in her eyes – but it was there, and noticeable to Harry. He frowned in concern as she zeroed in on them. He really hoped she wasn't having second thoughts, not that he would blame her if she was.
Ron blanked out as usual as she slid silently into her seat, and – perhaps the biggest sign of all – Fleur didn't spare him so much as a second glance. All she did was give Harry a wan smile and start to dish up without another word.
Deeply concerned, Harry leaned over to whisper in her ear.
"You alright?" he asked.
Fleur turned and smiled a genuine smile at him. "I am just tired, 'Arry," she replied.
Harry studied her for another few moments, and to his relief, found no deception. He reached over cautiously and brushed a silvery strand of hair away from her crystal blue eyes, and smiled understandingly at her. He knew quite well what it was to go sleepless, thank you very much, and did not wish that upon anyone.
When he turned back to the table, though, it was all he could do not to scowl. For once, Ron wasn't sporting that dreamy, blank look he got when she was around – but the one he was wearing was even worse. It was a greedy, jealous look, and though he hid it quickly when he realized Harry was looking, Harry did not miss it.
He really wasn't certain what more he could do. While he could have spoken to Ron about it, he would have thought that by now that Ron would have learned his lesson. Why should he have to repeatedly defuse his friend's jealousy, when there wasn't even anything to be jealous of?
His impending marriage was fraught with complications, and it wasn't even by choice. True, he was starting to think he was getting something very good out of the deal, but why should anyone be jealous of him when he'd had his choices stolen away? What if she'd been the devil incarnate? Ron had no concept of what Harry's life was like.
Thankfully, his musings were shortly interrupted by the arrival of the mail. Hedwig was nowhere to be seen, but a handsome little tawney delivered a message to Fleur, and Harry recognized the parchment as the kind favored by the Delacour family.
Fleur read through it and then handed it to him. "We are going to be busy, 'Arry," she sighed tiredly.
Harry took the letter and read it for himself:
Très chers enfants,
I hope this letter finds you well. Papa and I have recently completed the arrangements for your upcoming event. Barring unforeseen circumstances, it will take place on the twentieth of this month. We have chosen to host it at Chateau Delacour due to the short notice. I sincerely hope that this meets with both of your approval.
Tradition dictates that we must send invitations one week prior to the event. Harry, this is different from the Muggle tradition, so do not concern yourself. Any friends you invite will come if they are able, and will not be offended by the short notice.
Both of you should gather your lists and return them to us within two days. You may invite as many people as you wish. We certainly have the room.
Good luck in school!
Tout notre amour,
Maman & Papa
He smiled genuinely at the fact that they included him so naturally in the letter, and a strange warmth overcame him. Was this what having a family was like? Even if the circumstances were strange, and even if the letter was essentially business, it still felt wonderful. He had never been included like this before.
Of course, Ron was his usual self.
"Whozzat from?" he asked nosily. "Whassit say?"
"I do not see 'ow zat is any of your business," scowled Fleur.
"I was asking Harry," frowned Ron, torn between his usual awe and a bit of irritation.
Harry sighed in irritation. "It's Fleur's letter, Ron," he said, forcing himself to sound as casual as he could. "If she doesn't want you to know, then you don't get to know."
"But you always tell me!" he whined.
Hermione had apparently had enough. "Oh, honestly, Ronald!" she burst. "Will you just grow up? The world does not revolve around you!"
The twins exchanged deep frowns, communicating in that strange way they had, and Harry had a feeling that Ron would get a talking to sooner or later. Not that it would do any good; if he wouldn't listen to his own friends, then why would he listen to the twins? It seemed to Harry that he would simply have to learn on his own, and that could take a while...
"Do you always have to act like such a know-it-all?" Ron spat back. "Bloody hell, Hermione, I wasn't even talking to you!"
Harry sighed and lowered his gaze to his plate as the row got going. He was really getting tired of it. And if Ron would only listen to the things Hermione said, he would be much better off. Very few Gryffindors could stand him, and it wasn't likely that he would end up with any more friends at the rate he was going.
At least he'd given up on talking about the Second Task, though; Harry had to admit that it was an improvement, even if it wasprobably brought about by Fleur's frequent presence...
The twins conjured a scoreboard and kept score as the argument raged on between Ron and Hermione. Fleur, apparently too tired to take an interest, simply lay her beautiful head on Harry's shoulder, and he hesitantly put his arm around her. He wondered what was going on; she was usually so much livelier...
"Why were you up so late?" he whispered curiously.
"I was talking to 'ermione," she replied sadly. "She is very distressed over ze 'ate mail from zat 'orrible article."
Harry frowned at the thought. "We'll need to do something about that for you when we make our announcement," he whispered darkly.
"Oui," she sighed. "Papa will figure somezing out."
"WELL MAYBE YOU SHOULD STOP ACTING LIKE SUCH AN ARSE!"
Harry glanced up, startled by Hermione's uncharacteristic use of foul language. She was on the verge of storming away from the table – a rarity for her these days – and both she and Ron looked fit to be tied. A glance at the scoreboard showed Hermione winning by a landslide.
"She's got you there, Ronniekins," smirked a twin.
"Game, set, and match!" crowed the other.
The rather stunned expressions on his friends' faces when they caught sight of the scoreboard almost made Harry's morning worth it.
Probably fortunately, it was then that the doors to the Great Hall banged open, and a troupe of Aurors flooded the Hall in blood red robes. A hush swept across the room, and both Fleur and Harry turned around in their seats, curious as to what was going on. Neither had any idea.
The Aurors – including one with spiky pink hair who stood out like a sore thumb – were led by a stocky older woman who looked like she meant business. There was anger emblazoned on her features, and Harry found himself hoping that he wasn't involved. He really didn't need that kind of trouble.
The head table was packed with the usual array of Headmasters and staff, and Dumbledore rose to meet the incoming force.
"What is the meaning of this?" he boomed across the Hall.
"Good morning, Headmaster," the woman boomed back in an equally strong voice. And then she promptly ignored him. "Severus Snape, please step forward."
"Excuse me?" hissed Snape from his position at the end of the table.
"Damn," breathed an awed twin. "Sebastian moves fast!"
Harry glanced at Fleur only to see a wide, vindictive smile on her face. It was only a moment later that he realized he was mirroring it: Snape was going down! He couldn't wait to see how this played out. He had to agree that Sebastian had moved quickly – it had only been a few days – but he was much more interested in watching the show.
The woman raised an eyebrow when Snape made no move to cooperate. "I am placing you under arrest for multiple counts of child abuse and endangerment, Mr. Snape," she said seriously. "Come forward and surrender your wand."
The silence from the students was complete, and Snape spluttered in disbelief, his face draining of the only bit of color that it had ever possessed. Dumbledore, on the other hand, looked positively alarmed.
"I'm afraid I cannot allow that, Amelia," he frowned. "Professor Snape has committed no crime, and is a recognized Professor at this school."
Hermione sucked in a breath. "He's going to defend him again!" she hissed angrily.
"It won't do any good," said the other twin with grim satisfaction. "She's head of the DMLE. Dad says she's a tough cookie, and she won't take no for an answer."
"We have overwhelming evidence of these crimes, Headmaster," retorted the woman in a ringing voice. "We will be interviewing the students over the course of the day. This is not a request, it is a demand, and it is the law!"
Dumbledore looked like he'd choked on a lemon drop, and Snape was surprisingly frightened as he stared entreatingly at his erstwhile benefactor. Harry snuck a glance at Maxime and Karkaroff, and saw them watching the scene in horrified fascination. He couldn't help that his smile widened a bit: this was going to be a nasty hit to Dumbledore's reputation!
He would find no sympathy in Harry after leaving him on the Dursley doorstep like so much refuse...
The standoff continued in tense silence for a few more moments before Dumbledore finally sighed. "Very well," he said. "Severus, for now you must accompany them. I will have the charges dropped as soon as possible." Turning back to the the woman, he added, "You will not interview the students, Amelia. This is sufficient disruption for one day."
"Batard!" breathed Fleur. "He does not listen!"
"He's too used to being in charge," scowled Harry.
"Excuse me, Dumbledore?" asked Amelia sharply. "You are obstructing justice! Do I need to arrest you as well?"
Dumbledore's eyes narrowed. "I am the Headmaster of this school, Amelia," he boomed, "and the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot which you serve. You will take your Aurors and leave the grounds immediately. We will discuss this in session tomorrow."
The pink-haired Auror snorted, and Amelia shot her a quelling look before turning back to the Headmaster. "I don't think so," she said flatly. "Or do you consider yourself above the law? Section 17, paragraph 3 of the Child Safety Act of 1780 declares that all allegations of child abuse or endangerment must be investigated post haste. Given that there are several hundred counts, I will not be swayed on this issue. Do you not care for the safety of your students?"
"There is no abuse taking place at Hogwarts," said Dumbledore stiffly.
A fair number of students snorted; they obviously disagreed with that statement.
Amelia merely stuck her hand out to the pink-haired Auror, who dropped a scroll in it. She then unrolled it without taking her gaze from Dumbledore, and only glanced briefly at it before speaking. "Two hundred seventy-four current and former students have come forward with evidence to the contrary," she announced in a ringing voice. "I have never seen a more clear-cut case. Will you deny them justice?"
"Nice!" breathed a twin.
McGonagall and several other Professors allowed their jaws to drop, and then turned almost as one to stare accusingly at the Headmaster. Harry could almost see the conclusions forming in their minds: they had all tried to do something about Snape, and he had blocked all of their efforts; now it was coming home to roost...
For his part, realizing that he couldn't win this battle, Dumbledore deflated and sighed. "Very well," he said quietly. "You may perform your interviews, but please keep the disruption to a minimum. I will discuss the matter with the Wizengamot tomorrow."
Amelia motioned to her Aurors, and they immediately headed for Snape, who backed up several steps, but was at least wise enough not to draw on them. The expression on his face would be seared into Harry's memory for years to come: it was alternating between terrified and angry. Harry did not fail to notice that several students subtly spit on him as he passed.
"Do what you will, Dumbledore," said Amelia meanwhile. "This is out of their jurisdiction unless you plan to overturn centuries of child safety laws." Then she turned toward the Gryffindor table, and her eyes scanned along it until they landed on Harry, who couldn't help his instinctual reaction. He shrank back against Fleur, intimidated by the woman's discerning gaze.
"Mr. Potter," she intoned. "If you would accompany us, we would like to interview you first."
Harry nodded and pushed nervously to his feet, and to his surprise, Fleur did the same beside him. "May I join you, Madame?" she asked politely. "I do not wish for 'Arry to be alone for zis."
Harry was sure he imagined it, but he almost thought he saw a faint smile flicker across the woman's stern face. "That would be acceptable, Mademoiselle Delacour," she nodded. "You are his girlfriend, correct?"
Sharp intakes of breath spread throughout the Great Hall at the question, and in spite of himself, Harry had to stifle a laugh. Nobody had figured it out, even after they went to Hogsmeade together! It was priceless! Although, he hoped that Skeeter didn't find out...
Somewhere behind him, Hermione snorted in morbid amusement, but he ignored her.
"Oui, Madame," smiled Fleur, sending a quiet murmur through the students.
"I must insist on accompanying you also," announced Dumbledore suddenly. "I will need to represent my students."
Harry scowled at the prospect, but Amelia shrugged and motioned for Harry to follow. "As you wish, Headmaster," she replied, "but you will not interfere or we will remove and arrest you for obstruction of justice."
From the corner of his eye, Harry saw McGonagall rise as well, which wasn't altogether surprising. He ignored it and followed the woman out of the room, with Fleur gliding along in silent support beside him. He appreciated her presence; it made the situation seem less daunting somehow.
He was nevertheless vibrating with nerves by the time they entered a room on the second floor, only to find that two more Aurors were just finishing up the arrangements. Apparently, the woman covered her bases.
"Relax and have a seat, Mr. Potter," offered Amelia with surprising kindness. "This is an informal interview to determine what evidence you can provide, nothing more. You are not under suspicion in this or any other matter."
Harry smiled weakly at her and took the chair in front of the teacher's desk as she settled in behind it. Fleur promptly dragged another chair over, and he was comforted when she took his hand and gave it a squeeze. Dumbledore and McGonagall conjured chairs to the side. Meanwhile, the Aurors left the room to take up positions outside the door.
"Is this really necessary, Amelia?" asked Dumbledore before she could start. "Professor Snape has provided excellent service to the school for over a decade. There have never been any substantiated claims of misbehavior."
Harry couldn't help it: he snorted derisively.
"It's necessary," said Amelia shortly. Then she turned to McGonagall, who was eyeing the Headmaster with a narrow gaze. "And the reason for your presence, Professor?" she asked neutrally.
"I am Mr. Potter's Head of House," she said honestly. "I feel it is my duty to provide him with my support."
Amelia studied her for a moment before nodding, and then she turned to Harry. Her gaze was penetrating and made him squirm, but there was nothing terribly unfriendly about it. She simply watched him for a moment, as though sizing him up.
And before she could begin, Dumbledore interrupted, again. "Have Mr. Potter's guardians been contacted for permission to give this interview?" he asked knowingly.
Amelia slowly turned to Dumbledore with anger burning behind her eyes. "Mr. Potter does not stand accused, Dumbledore," she growled slowly. "His guardians do not need to be contacted."
"He will need their permission if he is to testify," stalled Dumbledore. "That is the law in this matter, and I do not believe that the Dursleys will grant their permission. The interview is therefore unnecessary."
"His guardians have been contacted," scowled Amelia, "not that it is any business of yours. He has their permission to handle the matter as he sees fit."
"I would know if the Dursleys were contacted," he frowned. "I can assure you that they were not."
Amelia shot Harry a warning look just as he was about to open his mouth to rip into the old man, and then she smirked at Dumbledore in obvious enjoyment. "Well, I don't know how you missed our visit, but Mr. Potter's guardians did indeed give their permission. Now, if we can get on with this? I don't have all day."
Harry smirked as he suddenly understood. They were keeping him in the dark about the change of guardianship! He felt a certain amount of vindictive pleasure at the knowledge that, for once, he knew more than Dumbledore did about something.
When she finally turned away from Dumbledore, Amelia once again settled her gaze on Harry. "I understand that you provided two memories to the initial investigation, Mr. Potter?" she asked after a moment.
Dumbledore sat up straighter in his seat, and a glimmer of anger appeared in his eyes. Harry, however, ignored it. "Yes ma'am," he nodded. "My first Potions class with him, and my most recent."
"When did this happen?" demanded Dumbledore.
Amelia glared at him. "Silence!" she snapped.
Then she turned back to Harry as though the interruption had not taken place. "Has Professor Snape ever acted in an abusive manner toward you or your fellow students?" she asked.
But Fleur spoke up before he could answer. "If I may, Madame," she said softly, "could you per'aps provide us wiz your definition of abuse?"
Amelia looked surprised, but then she smiled and nodded approvingly. "You make a good point, Mademoiselle, thank you," she nodded. And turning back to Harry she said, "By abuse I mean intimidating behavior, verbal insults, inappropriate physical contact, obvious favoritism, or extreme punishments of any kind, physical or otherwise."
Dumbledore frowned at her description, but did not dispute it, and Harry nodded his understanding. Giving Fleur's hand a thankful squeeze, he paused to order his thoughts as he decided how to answer the question for maximum impact. Finally, he settled on a strategy.
"He's never touched me, ma'am," he admitted, causing Dumbledore to nod approvingly at him. But then he dropped the proverbial bomb. "But as to the others, I would have to say yes to all of them."
Dumbledore opened his frowning mouth, but Amelia beat him. "Can you provide me with examples?" she requested.
"Yes, ma'am," he nodded politely. "He regularly insults my parents and me to my face, and he's pretty harsh with the other students too, unless they're in Slytherin. He leaves them alone. He's also well known for taking points and giving me detention because someone else blew up their cauldron, which he likes to blame on me. And honestly, ma'am, he hasn't taught them how not to blow up their cauldrons. I've had more than one four-hour detention from him for that kind of incident."
"Surely you exaggerate, Harry," interrupted Dumbledore. "Professor Snape would not take points or give detentions unnecessarily."
Harry scowled deeply. "Are you calling me a liar, sir?" he asked in a dangerous tone.
"I am sure that you are merely mistaken," replied Dumbledore serenely. "Perhaps you have not realized the magnitude of your transgressions. Many students do not."
"Do you want to see it in a Pensieve?" he hissed angrily. "Or do you care so much about him that you won't even give us the time of day?" Then he paused for a moment before– "Why are you so afraid of having him investigated, Professor?" he challenged. "Is it because he's a Death Eater?"
McGonagall sucked in a sharp breath at the accusation, and apparently Dumbledore had hit his limit. He puffed up and rose to his feet, before– "That will be detention and fifty points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter," he said sternly. "I will not tolerate disrespect from students toward the Professors."
Amelia merely raised an eyebrow at Dumbledore, completely unimpressed by his posturing. She then grabbed a blank parchment and a quill and started writing something as she spoke. "Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore," she intoned. "You are hereby charged with obstruction of justice and intimidation of a material witness in an active felony case."
"This is a school-related matter, Amelia," replied Dumbledore condescendingly. "I am permitted to punish my students as I see fit."
"Not when they are being interviewed for a criminal case, Dumbledore, as you well know," retorted Amelia. "The charge stands, and I will provide a certified memory of this incident at your trial. You will be notified of the date in due course. Now, you will leave this room or be arrested, and I am ordering you to have minimal contact with my witnesses, or I will bring additional charges of coercion and illegal intimidation. Am I clear?"
Dumbledore was stunned by her speech, and Harry guessed that it had been a long time since anyone had dared to go against him. He was used to being the king of his castle, and pretty much in control of the entirety of Wizarding Britain through the Wizengamot and the court of public opinion. It felt surprisingly good to see that someone was willing to take the kind of risk that Amelia was taking at the moment.
"Yes," he said stiffly. "You are clear. I see that I cannot dissuade you from this foolishness."
"The only foolishness here is your continuing defense of a convicted Death Eater who abuses his students, Dumbledore," scowled Amelia. "Now leave so I can conduct this interview in peace!"
As Dumbledore stalked from the room, Harry took a moment to observe McGonagall. She was flabbergasted! Her jaw was hanging open, and as she stared after the Headmaster, her look of utter betrayal was almost painful. Harry felt a small amount of sympathy for her, though it didn't excuse her own lack of action...
"Am I going to have similar problems with you, Professor?" asked Amelia, drawing his attention back to her.
McGonagall shook herself out of her daze. "No, Director Bones," she said quietly. "But if I may, I would like to take Mr. Potter up on his offer to see the evidence. If Albus has been covering something like this up, I need to know so I can minimize the damage to the students."
Amelia studied her long enough that she started to squirm, before finally turning to Harry. "The choice is yours, Mr. Potter," she offered.
Harry looked down for a moment in thought. He actually liked McGonagall, and didn't want her to be on Dumbledore's side of this. But he needed to know where she stood. Whether he respected her or not, he needed to protect his interests, especially now that they affected Fleur along with him.
"Where is your loyalty, Professor?" he asked quietly after a moment.
McGonagall frowned. "I'm not certain that I understand your question, Mr. Potter," she admitted.
Harry closed his eyes and sighed. "I need to know if I can trust you," he said finally, spearing her with an assessing gaze. "Snape has done a lot of damage and I want him out, but I won't give the Headmaster any ammunition, so if you're just going to tell him what you learn..."
He let the statement hang, and Amelia gave a nod of agreement. McGonagall looked taken aback for a moment, but then she turned thoughtful, and he could see her thinking through her experiences with the venerable Albus Dumbledore. Finally she nodded to herself, and turned back to Harry.
"I give you my word as a Witch, Mr. Potter," she said solemnly, "that my only interest in this matter is to see the students protected. I will not willingly share any information about the case with Albus Dumbledore or his supporters without your consent. So mote it be."
To Harry's shock, the oath took hold with a white nimbus of light that appeared around her. She had taken a real magical oath! That was extremely rare, and meant that she was beyond serious about helping him. His respect for her increased by several notches.
"Thank you, ma'am," he whispered, feeling a bit guilty for doubting her. "I'm sorry, it's just– I have to protect myself, and the Headmaster hasn't been doing a very good job of it."
McGonagall's brow furrowed in confusion. "I hope you know that you can come to me, Harry," she said with unusual informality. "I will not deny that I have obviously let things go too far, but I promise you that I will try to do better in light of what I've seen today."
"Thank you, ma'am."
"Sebastian was right about you," smirked Amelia suddenly. "You are quite a remarkable young man, Mr. Potter." And then, turning to Fleur, she ordered, "And you had better take good care of him, Mademoiselle, or I will be most displeased."
Harry couldn't help his snort of amusement, and Fleur grinned at her. "Oui," she smiled. "Of zat you may be assured."
McGonagall cocked an eyebrow, but fortunately, she didn't ask.
"Now that we have the showmanship out of the way," grinned Amelia suddenly, "Let's talk about our case!"
Chapter 14
The Horrible Truth
Contrary to the powerful appearance she gave off in the Great Hall, Amelia Bones turned out to be a very personable woman. Her stern edge was not unlike Professor McGonagall's, it just wasn't as severe unless she wanted it to be. While the interview was long and involved, it was more of a meeting of the minds than anything else.
While Harry was surprised that the arrest had taken place so soon after disclosing the problem to Sebastian, he soon learned that there was a very good reason for it. Sebastian's first action was to take the memories to Amelia for her viewing displeasure, and she was truly steamed by what she saw. She immediately assembled a team of Aurors to investigate – only to discover that it wasn't strictly necessary.
Many of the younger members of the department had also once been students of Severus Snape, and were witnesses in and of themselves.
The assigned Aurors had then canvassed the Department of Magical Law Enforcement – and indeed the rest of the Ministry – in the space of two days, gathering names and memories as they went. It wasn't a long process, and when combined with what the twins gathered over the Hogsmeade weekend, having an arrest warrant issued was a slam dunk. They never even had to look to the general populace.
Harry was surprised by this, but he really shouldn't have been. It was quite simple when he thought about it: Snape had essentially been digging his own grave, makings consummate enemies of three quarters of British magical society during their young and impressionable years. Nobody was going to miss the chance to pay him back for all the abuse; Harry was merely the pebble that started the landslide.
Though the atmosphere was much more pleasant after the Headmaster left, Harry still greatly appreciated Fleur's presence. She stayed close to him the entire time, and defused his bouts of temper with surprising ease. Apart from that, she just listened silently, having recognized that the interview had little to do with her.
The meeting ended just before lunch, and the mood in the castle was jovial, to say the least. While most Slytherins were sullen and angry, as could be expected, the rest of the school was positively buoyant. The students universally celebrated the fact that they would not have Potions with Snape for the foreseeable future – if ever again – and it was infectious.
Of course, the incident also had other repercussions that were much less pleasant.
For one, the rumor mill no longer needed to spread Harry's status as Fleur's boyfriend, and everywhere he went, people were talking about it. He could not escape the giggling girls – or the scowling ones – and it was truly irritating. He imagined that Fleur was probably having much the same problem with the boys, not that that was different from any other day.
Hermione was a godsend, constantly deflecting questions and comments. Lavender and Parvati were the worst offenders: they badly wanted gossip fodder, and Harry was disinclined to give it to them. In the end, Hermione had to threaten to have a prefect deduct points to get them to leave him alone.
The real downturn, however, was when Fleur held him back as they were leaving the Great Hall that evening.
She was unusually quiet during dinner, and did not participate in the conversation. For most of the meal she stared off into space, her distant gaze on nothing in particular. Occasionally Harry would catch calculating looks from her, but he didn't think it anything bad – it was more like she was puzzled by something, and he could admit that he was a bit curious.
Then, as they were walking through the Entrance Hall, she gently dragged him to a halt and signaled for Hermione to go on without them. Of course, Ron was a bit more thickheaded about it and had to be dragged away, but that was no great surprise. The twins had long since vanished to their next troublemaking endeavor, and Neville was stuck to Hermione like glue, so they were no trouble.
She waited until the Hall was mostly clear of students, and then–
"'Arry, is zere somewhere we can talk?" she asked nervously.
Harry frowned up at her. "Sure," he shrugged. "Where do you want to go?"
"Somewhere private?" she requested. "I do not zink you will want ozzers to 'ear zis."
Her reticence unnerved him, but he nevertheless nodded and beckoned for her to follow. There were few truly private places in the castle, and the kitchens would be their best bet on this occasion; the elves would be busy cleaning up after dinner, and no student would be hungry enough to wander in for a snack. It was one of the places in the castle where one could speak relatively freely, at least if one was on good terms with the elves.
In spite of the situation, Fleur's curiosity was evident as he led her to the painting that hid the entrance. A small smile appeared on her face when the pear giggled and turned into a doorknob, which gave him a small amount of comfort. Whatever she wanted to discuss, it wasn't so bad that it had completely dimmed her enjoyment of life.
Perhaps fortunately, Dobby was apparently off cleaning somewhere, so there wasn't an overexcitable House Elf to deal with on this occasion.
He requested tea for two from the one that did approach him, and led her to a small table in the back of the room where they could speak comfortably. Silence reigned for several minutes while she collected her thoughts; the only sound was the distant clinking of dishware as the elves went about their business. She appeared to be very disturbed by something, which worried him.
"Fleur?" he prompted after a while. "Is something wrong?"
She turned to him with a heavy sigh and hesitated, absently spinning her teacup with her fingers. As she studied him, he reflected that he'd never before seen her so nervous. It reminded him of how he felt when he asked her out, but he doubted that it had such a pleasant cause. And sure enough–
"I am not sure 'ow to ask zis," she said plaintively. "Papa told us not to discuss it wiz you, but..."
Harry stared blankly at her for a long moment, his cheeks losing color as her meaning sunk in.
There was only one thing he could think of that Sebastian had asked the family not to question him on, and it was nothing good. He'd known this was coming – they were getting married, and she would eventually find out – but he was completely unprepared. He hadn't expected it to be so soon.
But as he thought it through, he realized that he couldn't deny her this. Had anyone else asked, he would have shut the conversation down without hesitation, but this was different. Whether he wanted to talk about it or not, Fleur was going to be his wife, and there was no getting around that fact. Didn't she have a right to know what she was getting into?
Harry knew full well that he was not a normal bloke, and that he had no concept of things like family and love. One of his greatest fears, in fact, was that because of it, he might not be able to give her the life she deserved – or worse yet, that he might turn out like the Dursleys. He had to tell her about it, if only so she could be prepared.
Pulling himself out of his reverie, and forcing down his emotions, he met her gaze again. "You want to know about my relatives, right?" he asked tentatively.
Fleur nodded hesitantly. "You were not 'appy when ze 'eadmaster mentioned zem," she said, and then her voice fell in volume. "What 'appened, 'Arry? What did zey do to you?"
Suspicions confirmed, he closed his eyes and sighed heavily. If there was any one subject that he despised talking about, it was this one, but it was unavoidable. The problem was, he wasn't at all ready to tell her about it. He'd barely known her for a week in any meaningful context, and even Hermione, who had known him for so many years, was completely unaware of this particular truth about his life before Hogwarts.
Surprisingly, though, even searching deep within himself, he found no real fear. If her father was any indication, she would not react badly, or at least not toward him. She would undoubtedly be angry with the Dursleys, but then, who wouldn't be?
Sucking in a deep breath, Harry forced himself to open his eyes again. Her brow was crinkled in concern, quite obviously directed squarely at him. Why she cared so much was one of the biggest questions he had about her, but he told himself that he would find the answer in due time.
"Are you sure you want to know?" he asked hesitantly. "It's not pleasant."
Fleur nodded, never breaking his gaze. "It affects you greatly," she said. "I wish to understand."
Harry stared at her in silence for a long moment before finally looking away. "You know they were my guardians before, right?" he asked quietly.
"Oui," she confirmed, "and I understand zat zey did not want you, but I do not understand why, or what zey did to you."
Harry nodded absently, distracted by her simple statement. Why didn't the Dursleys want him? Why did they treat him so badly? That was one of his burning questions, and one that he expected he would never have a proper answer to. Was it even worth knowing?
"I don't know why either," he admitted softly, "but Dumbledore left me on their doorstep after my parents died, and I don't know why they kept me. Vernon used to threaten me with the orphanage, but he never actually went through with it for some reason."
Closing his eyes again for a moment, Harry let the memories wash over him. He could clearly recall his terror at those threats when his young mind imagined an even more horrifying place, but in retrospect, it would have been best if the bastard had gone through with it. No matter if it was the worst orphanage in Britain, his life would undoubtedly have been more pleasant than it was on Privet Drive.
When he opened them again, Fleur was still watching him silently, concern etched into her beautiful features. For once, he was tempted to drop his barriers and allow her allure to overcome him just so he wouldn't have to talk about this, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.
"They weren't nice people," he sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "They– They hate me, Fleur. And I don't mean they dislike me. They out and out hate me."
Fleur reached the short distance across the table and took his hand, and the comfort he felt at the gesture made him close his eyes again, even as he continued. "It's- It's hard to talk about," he whispered.
"You do not 'ave to," she said gently. "I will not force you, but I would like to know."
Eyes still closed, Harry nodded; he would not escape this conversation, and even if he did, it would only happen later. Wasn't it better to get it out of the way now? Then, at least, he would no longer have to worry about it...
"To them I was- I was just a freak," he whispered bitterly. "I was a worthless burden they had to put up with. They didn't even give me a bedroom; I slept in a broom cupboard until I got my Hogwarts letter."
"You slept in a broom cupboard?" came her horrified whisper.
"Yeah," he sighed. "And giving me that cupboard was probably the nicest thing they ever did for me."
Fleur made a strangled noise, and her grip on his hand tightened, but Harry tuned it out as he tried to master his tangled emotions. It was, in some ways, easier to actually be in the situation than it was to talk about it. Talking meant that had to think about it, and thinking meant that he would feel.
For so long he had avoided feeling anything at all on the subject, because it was the only way he could survive. Had he allowed himself to actually deal with those emotions in his younger years, he probably would either have run away and died on the streets, or simply killed himself in a desperate act of self-preservation, as ironic as that would have been. He could recall the many times he'd spent in that cupboard staring at the ceiling, wondering if he would see his parents again when he died...
The silence stretched as his thoughts wandered, until finally Fleur gave his hand a gentle squeeze to remind him of her presence. He took a deep breath and did his best to center himself. The sooner this was over, the better, and so he screwed up his courage and forced the hurt as far away as he could manage.
"I was pretty much their slave, Fleur," he finally said with a resigned sigh. "I did the cooking, the cleaning... Whatever they wanted. And if I screwed up..."
There was a brief silence, before– "What?" her soothing whisper washed over him. "What did zey do to you?"
Harry opened his mouth to answer, but found that he was momentarily at a loss for words. How did one describe such things? He could not make them any less horrifying than they were, but no words would ever do it justice. It was too horrible.
"They beat me," he whispered hoarsely in the end. "If I burned the food, they beat me. If I dropped a plate, or even just made a noise..." Shaking himself out of his pain-filled memories, he forced some strength back into his voice. "It's just the way it was," he decided. "Like I said, they weren't nice people."
But as hard as he tried to be strong, his voice still cracked. He dimly registered that he had never before spoken of this with anyone. Even Sebastian had gotten it directly from the Dursleys, and so far as Harry was aware, he and Director Bones were the only two other people who knew, at least if you didn't count the Dursleys themselves.
Strangely, it felt good to have admitted it to someone.
He wasn't sure why, but even without knowing Fleur's reaction, he felt vaguely lighter for the experience. There was so much more to say – so much more that would explain the sheer horror of his existence prior to Hogwarts – but even just admitting that much was a surprising relief. Not that it made it any easier to handle...
He expected either an angry or disgusted reaction from her, but he got neither. Instead her hand disappeared from his, making his stomach sink, and he dared not open his eyes to see what she was thinking. But then, a moment later, he felt the bench shift beneath him, and her arms wrapped around him in a warm and comforting embrace.
Her hand came up as she pulled him close, gently cradling his head as he rested it against her chest, and it was only then that he realized that his cheeks were damp. Tears were not something he was very familiar with – they were not tolerated by the Dursleys – but a few had leaked out, to his own surprise. It was all he could do to keep the flood at bay as she held him.
"I am so sorry," she whispered in his ear, her own voice catching painfully. "I 'ad no idea it was so bad."
"That's not the half of it," he whispered back. "They blamed me for– for everything. I– I don't–"
"Ssshhhhh," she interrupted soothingly. "It is over now. You will never go back to zose batards. Papa will not allow it, and neizzer will I."
Harry nodded faintly and lost himself in the comfort she was offering. He wasn't certain what he should be feeling; part of him was relieved at having actually said it, and another part was horrified that she knew. All he could do was pray that it would not end up hurting him in the end.
The silence continued for a long while, and though they drew curious glances from the elves, they were thankfully left to their own devices. Fleur simply held him, saying nothing, and Harry allowed himself to enjoy her soothing warmth. It was surprising how good it felt.
Finally, though, she pulled back, and he opened his eyes to find her looking nervously at him once more.
"'Arry," she began haltingly, "does it– does zis bozzer you?" She swallowed a lump before clarifying, "Being 'eld?"
Harry's brow furrowed as he considered the question. Had she asked him that two weeks ago, his answer would have been undeniably affirmative, but then she came along and changed everything. He doubted that he would ever be comfortable like this with Hermione, but Fleur was different in ways that he didn't even begin to understand.
"I don't think so," he said distantly. "I think– I think I like it, actually, it's just–" Frowning, he searched for the words to explain what he was feeling. "I didn't know it could feel like this," he admitted softly. "It's just– different, with you."
Fleur smiled gently at him. "I am glad," she told him as one of her hands came up to cautiously brush his cheek. "I do not want to make you uncomfortable."
"You don't," he said honestly. "That's why it's weird."
Fleur's smile widened slightly, and with great difficulty, Harry forced himself back to reality. They'd been here for a while, and it was likely well past curfew. He needed to get back to the tower before one of the teachers came across them.
"Could you– could you not tell anyone?" he requested tentatively. "About my relatives, I mean? I don't want people knowing about it."
"Of course," she nodded. "It is your secret, 'Arry. I will not tell anyone else."
"Thanks," he sighed. "We should probably get going before we get in trouble."
Fleur agreed only reluctantly, but soon they were making their way out of the kitchen. She held his hand all the way back to the Entrance Hall, where she paused only long enough to brush his bangs back off his forehead and smile at him. "I will see you in ze morning," she offered. "Thank you for telling me."
"You're welcome," he said simply.
When they separated, Harry made his way back to the tower in a daze. Fleur was confusing at the best of times – let alone the situation they were in – but the more he saw of her, the more he thought he could really like her. Whatever had just happened, it had left him with a warm glow, even if he was still a bit strained and emotional, and he couldn't explain it.
All he knew for certain was that he wanted more of it, preferably without all the angst.