Chapter 18
Breakdown
After seeing her father off, Fleur wasted no time in tracking down Harry and Hermione. She found them sitting side by side on what she thought of as his favorite rock down by the lake. Harry had his knees drawn up to his chest, with his chin resting on them, and Hermione was talking softly to him, though it did not look like she was making any progress.
She approached them slowly, not wanting to startle them, even as she worried over what to do. It was well known to his friends that Harry was extremely reticent when it came to his problems, and she doubted that it would be any different where she was concerned. After all, why should he tell her, when he would not even talk to Hermione?
But then, she was about to marry him, and this would likely be her responsibility for a long time to come; she supposed she had better get used to it.
Hermione looked up at her as she hauled herself up on the rock, and she paused for a moment, considering what she should do. In the end, however, the decision was easy to make: yes, Hermione was his best friend, but Fleur was to be his wife. Some things were private, and while she did not know him well enough to say with any certainty, she felt that this was one of those things that he would not want to share.
And so she smiled apologetically at the girl. "Will you please excuse us, 'ermione?" she requested quietly, trying to convey her thanks for the girl's efforts with her eyes.
She was relieved when Hermione smiled an understanding smile at her. "Take care of him, Fleur," she said quietly.
Fleur nodded, and she stood there for a few moments, watching as Hermione made her way back to the castle. Then, turning back to Harry, she examined him more closely – and did not like what she saw. He had not reacted at all to her presence – or to Hermione's departure – and that was not a good sign.
He was tense, his muscles taut, and had an unnatural stillness about him. His eyes had drifted shut at some point in the last few minutes, though she did not know whether that was a good thing or not. The look on his face was one of despair.
Realizing that talking to him would not get her anywhere – yet – she instead sat down beside him, occupying the spot that Hermione had just vacated. Cautiously, she leaned up against him and put her arm around him, hoping to wordlessly convey her support. It was a relief when he did not flinch away from her; she almost expected that the contact would not be welcome.
Silence reigned for a long while, and she watched worriedly as his expression morphed further into desperation. She could see the signs of his internal struggle in the way his eyes were screwed tightly shut, and the way the lines of his forehead deepened with each passing moment. It was not long before a single tear ran down his cheek, and it was then that Fleur realized what was happening.
He was fighting for control of himself, and losing badly.
She knew from her father that the Dursleys did not allow him to show his emotions; it always earned him a beating. He spent his years in that house learning to suppress them, and she suspected that it was finally catching up to him. After everything that had happened in the past two weeks, this was hardly a surprise.
Harry stiffened when she removed her arm from his shoulders, almost as though he expected her to leave, but she had no such intention. Instead she turned around to face him and carefully maneuvered him so that she could pull him close, gently cradling his head against her chest. And that was all it took to push him over the edge.
He choked back a quiet sob, and his tears began to flow more freely.
Fleur said nothing, and merely held him as the dam finally burst. Thirteen years of pent up tears finally boiled over, and he could do nothing to stop them. She doubted that he had ever cried like this before; from her father's description, even broken limbs did not elicit a tear from him. He had bottled it all up, and could no longer hold it inside.
A quickly cast privacy spell ensured that nobody would bother them – or even know about it – and she waited patiently while he quietly cried himself out. In many ways, she was honored that he was allowing her to see him like this; where mere ego kept the tears at bay for most boys when they were around others, for him it was a survival instinct. It was an subconscious gesture of ultimate trust that she would not forget any time soon.
Many minutes later he finally quieted, and his arms came tentatively around her, probably unconsciously. She silently soothed him, running her fingers through his hair in the way he liked so much, and simply waited. He would speak when he was ready; no amount of questioning would make him talk if he did not want to.
And sure enough–
"What's wrong with me?" he asked faintly, his voice hoarse and pained.
Fleur closed her eyes against the sympathetic pain that welled up inside at the question, and she rested her chin atop his head. "Zere is nuzzing wrong wiz you, 'Arry," she whispered back.
"Then why does everyone automatically assume I did something wrong?"
Fleur blinked in surprise at the unexpected question. She had thought that he was referring to the fact that he had finally broken down, but obviously she was wrong. What really bothered her, though, was that she had no good answer for him.
"I do not know," she admitted quietly, rubbing her thumb gently across his cheek. "But it is zey who are wrong, not you."
He shook his head in obvious denial. "I don't know how much more I can take, Fleur," he admitted faintly, his grip on her tightening as he thought about it. "All this, it's– It's just too much."
Fleur closed her eyes again, and her heart bled for him. That he would willingly admit that to her only underscored how much pressure he was under. Few would be able to endure what he had and still be sane, and yet somehow Harry had survived, and kept it from changing him. He still had a heart of pure gold.
Truly, he was the most amazing man she had ever met – and he could no longer be properly called a boy, if ever he could have been. He had survived horrors the like of which few could even imagine, and somehow kept going. Most of would have turned Dark after all that, if they had managed to survive at all.
She wanted nothing more than to take that pain from him and allow him to live the life he deserved, and swore that she would help him in any way that she could. Here was a man who had agreed to marry her to save her life, and he had done so before he truly knew her – and when he had not liked who he thought she was. He deserved far more than anyone could ever give.
And as she thought these things, Fleur came to a startling realization: Hermione had been right; she was in love with Harry Potter.
But really, how could she not be? Even without the fame and fortune, she genuinely enjoyed his company, and had come to believe that she would equally enjoy their life together. Her only regret was that he was forced into it; she would much rather that it had been his choice, as so few things had been in his life. But he had accepted it, and she would make the most of it – for both of them.
"You do not 'ave to do zis alone anymore," she told him softly. "I do not know 'ow long it will take, but we will get through it togezzer. I will be zere ze 'ole time."
Harry stiffened for a brief moment, and then slowly extracted himself from her arms just far enough that he could look her in the eye. The pain visible in his own broke her heart. He searched for a long moment, giving no clue to what he was looking for, and then–
"Promise?" he whispered, an edge of desperation leaking through.
"I promise, 'Arry," she told him seriously. "I will never leave you."
Harry stared at her for a long moment, his confusion evident. For once, Fleur could easily read what he was thinking: he was wondering why she would so willingly make such a declaration; his problems were enormous, and he felt that nobody else should have to deal with them. He did not understand the effect he had on others around him.
His hand came up tentatively, and he cautiously touched her cheek, wonder blooming behind his eyes. Her heart stopped at the gentle contact, and she had to make a concerted effort not to suck in a breath at the depth of feeling that it evoked in her. And then he did something that she never in a million years would have expected from him.
He leaned in, slowly and cautiously, and pressed his lips to hers.
Fleur was initially so surprised by it that she didn't react, but she was shaken from her shock when he started to pull away again, probably in disappointment. She brought her hand to the back of his head to prevent it, and kissed him back. His relief at her reaction was so profound that she could almost feel it.
It was very different from their first kiss, which she had instigated on a whim. Neither of them were experienced in the arts of romance, but whatever it lacked in technique was made up for by the sheer power of the emotion behind it. She doubted that Harry understood what he was feeling – it was clear that he did not at all understand matters of love – but for the first time, she found hope that she could earn those feelings from him.
When the kiss ended, Fleur did not bother to open her eyes again; wanting to savor the moment, she simply drew him close and wrapped her arms tightly around him. Neither broke the silence, and she was surprised to note that the tension had run out of him, and he was allowing himself to relax fully into her embrace. It was an unusual showing of vulnerability on his part.
"Thank you," she whispered emotionally.
"For what?" he asked bemusedly.
Fleur smiled faintly at his lack of understanding. "For all of zis," she explained quietly. "For sharing yourself wiz me. I love you, 'Arry."
Harry stiffened in surprise at her unexpected declaration, and her smile turned sad. This time she was not surprised when he pulled away from her; it was doubtful that he would have expected to hear such a thing. He searched her eyes for quite some time, before–
"You mean that?" he asked hesitantly.
And she truly did. The situation was unfair, but it was Harry that was taking the brunt of it. What woman who truly knew him would not love him, or wish that she could have him? True, he came with all sorts of problems, but they were minor in comparison to what he gave in return.
"Wiz all my heart, mon amour," she told him, gently brushing his cheek. "I love you, and I will tell you zat for ze rest of your life."
Harry blinked at her for a long moment, his eyes tearing up once again. "No one ever said that to me before," he told her faintly.
Fleur's heart lurched painfully at the admission. If anyone deserved to be loved, it was Harry! That he had been so deprived was nothing short of criminal, and she resolved in that moment that Dumbledore would pay for it, no matter what she had to do. But Harry himself came first, and she could easily sense that he needed reassurance that he was not dreaming.
"I love you," she whispered again, staring back into his eyes. "Papa loves you; Maman loves you; Gabrielle loves you; Even Grand-mère loves you. We will all tell you and show you, 'Arry. You will nevair live wizout zat again. We will not allow it."
The tears that fell from his eyes were ones of relief this time, and in that moment, she knew that he would be alright. No problem was too big for them to face together as a family; the worst possible outcome was that they would whisk him away to France, where the people who wanted to use him could no longer get to him. They would no longer let him suffer.
She wrapped him in another warm hug, and put every ounce of her belief into it. As far as Fleur Delacour was concerned, he would never be alone again. All he had to do now was realize it.
==========[break]==========
They remained on the grounds until late in the evening, and only just returned to the castle in time for dinner. Harry was dried out; he could not remember ever having been so emotional before. In the end, though, while he was exhausted, he felt lighter somehow. And then he thought about Fleur's words to him.
He wasn't lying when he said that nobody had ever told him that, and even more amazing, he could sense her honesty.
He wanted to say it back, but he didn't know how. He was not familiar with love, never having truly experienced it, and those words were precious to him. He would not tell her until he was certain that he truly felt it, for they were not words that could be idly shared.
She understood this, though, and that was just one more thing that he liked about her.
They sat down for dinner a few minutes late, and the looks he got from his friends were predictable. Hermione, of course, was the most direct: she was deeply worried for him, and he had to smile at her in reassurance. That earned him a relieved one in return, and he was amused when she turned a thankful and slightly questioning look on Fleur.
He was thrilled that they got along, and had no doubt that they would be talking later.
Ron, of course, was oblivious to his earlier distress, and that bothered him. Instead he received a calculating look that he didn't much care for. He had a feeling that this was the beginning of the end; the cat was out of the bag, and Ron would be a handful. Hopefully he could at least last the week, as after that they would announce it and it wouldn't matter anymore.
Neville and Susan were clearly curious, but also kind enough not to ask. They needed to be told; it would be safer if they had all the information. He trusted both of them to a surprising degree; they were solid friends, and he wasn't worried.
And the twins, of course, were their usual jovial selves, though he caught the occasional looks. They knew more than they should, and while they appeared oblivious to his earlier distress, he knew better. They were just subtle about it, in that way that always made people severely underestimate them. He liked that about them.
Dumbledore was absent from the Head Table, so Harry glanced inquiringly at Fleur. Understanding his meaning without words, she drew her wand and cast another privacy bubble. All conversation stopped, and with the exception of Hermione, everyone unconsciously leaned in to hear the story.
"I'm guessing you all want to know what that was about?" he asked tiredly.
"Only if you want to tell us, mate," said Fred seriously.
"You don't have to," agreed George.
Ron looked like he disagreed with that, but wisely remained silent.
Harry rubbed his face, taking a moment to summon the energy he needed to get through the discussion. "No, you need to know," he sighed. "Just try not to yell, I've got a bit of a headache."
Taking one more deep breath, he met each set of eyes in turn, impressing on them the seriousness of the situation. They knew him well enough to be able to tell that he was not joking, and that it was not a prank. Hermione gave him a supportive look, which he genuinely appreciated, and Fleur's presence was a great comfort.
"You all know that Fleur is veela," he began. "Problem is, veela and life debts don't mix. If a veela owes someone a life debt, their magic will call it due in roughly thirty days."
Neville and Susan reacted the most visibly: their eyes widened in alarm. Fred and George just nodded sagely, and of course Hermione already knew. Ron looked plum confused at why he was telling them this, but Harry ignored him.
"I saved Fleur's life during the Second Task when she was attacked by a pack of grindylows," he continued. "She owes me a life debt, and if she doesn't pay it back, she loses her magic, and that's a surefire way to kill a veela."
Susan sucked in a breath. "But the only way she can pay it back is–"
"–to marry me, yes," nodded Harry. "The wedding is this weekend. You're all invited, which was why I got that howler from Mrs. Weasley earlier. I guess she didn't get the memo. And no, this is not a joke."
Fleur's hand moved to the small of his back, and he smiled at her briefly before taking in the reactions. Fred and George looked thoughtful, but not surprised. Neville and Susan were stunned but supportive, just like he expected. And Ron...
...Ron looked both impressed and jealous as hell.
Lovely.
"Don't take this the wrong way, Fleur," said Fred.
"But that sucks pretty hard, Harry," finished George.
"I know," he nodded. "But I could have done a hell of a lot worse than Fleur, and I don't mean because she's pretty."
Fleur ducked her head in embarrassment, which made him smile at her. He had a feeling that it was rare for someone to say something like that where she was concerned, but he would be happy to let her know for as long as possible that he wasn't after her for her beauty. It was the person inside, the one that he was just coming to know, that he liked so much.
"True, that," nodded Fred, still serious.
"I don't think we could have chosen better for you, Harry," nodded George.
"Like we said before, she likes you."
"So don't hack her off."
Fleur snorted in amusement. "When did you say zis?" she grinned.
"Snape night," smirked George.
"First time you kissed him on the cheek," grinned Fred.
"He kinda zoned out."
"So we borrowed him and had a little talk."
"Keep him on the straight and narrow, you know."
Harry snorted. "Like you two are ones to talk," he smirked. "Your straight and narrow is my windy road."
The twins grinned widely at him, and he had a feeling that particular slogan would end up on a tee shirt at some point, though probably creatively reversed. They had a perverse way of looking at life, but he had to admire them: it always worked out well in the end. He wished he could be so carefree.
"I don't see what's so bad about it," said Ron with a faint scowl. "I mean, she's a veela! It doesn't get much better than that!"
Hermione's countenance darkened ominously. "Don't be so shallow, Ronald," she hissed quietly.
"What?" he retorted. "I don't see a downside. He's bloody lucky! He got the best of the lot!"
Harry caught Fleur's narrowed eyes, and shook his head subtly at her to keep her from speaking. He decided he would let the others handle this as much as possible; Ron was an idiot. And Neville seemed to agree.
"You're an idiot, Ron," he scowled. "How would you like it if you were forced to marry, say, Pansy Parkinson?"
"What does that have to do with anything?" scowled Ron.
"Everything, Ronniekins," said Fred seriously, "because that's exactly what happened to Harry."
"The fact she's not Pansy is only luck," nodded George. "Just because she's pretty, doesn't mean it'll work out."
Harry had never seen the twins so serious or insightful before, and frankly it was a bit disturbing. He made a mental note to do something nice for them some time; they had probably done a lot more for him than he was aware of. They were always there in the background, quietly taking care of business, and they paid a lot more attention than anyone knew.
"But she isn't Pansy," scowled Ron.
"So if we force you to marry Parvati Patil next week–"
"–you would jump for joy and go do it?"
Ron blinked.
"They're right, Ron," said Harry quietly, finally deciding to say his piece. "At first I thought I was marrying someone like Parkinson. It was terrifying. Yes, things are working out, but that doesn't make it right or easy. For one, I'll never know who I would have ended up with otherwise."
"I will do my best to make it worth your while, 'Arry," said Fleur softly.
"I know you will," he smiled sadly back. "And we'll both probably always wonder, but I hope we'll never have regrets."
Fleur nodded and brushed her hand through his hair, apparently having figured out that he liked that. It was pleasant, and very relaxing. He wished he could go back and curl up with her in the carriage later to fall asleep; her mere presence soothed him in a way he had never experienced before.
"Well, congratulations, guys, either way," said Neville after a few moments. "You're right, you could have done a whole lot worse. I think you're good together."
"Me too," agreed Susan, "and I'll definitely be there. I think Auntie is planning on going, too."
"Thanks, guys," smiled Harry.
"Yes, Merci," smiled Fleur. "You 'ave all been wonderful."
Harry knew she wasn't including Ron in that, but didn't say anything. "You can't say anything until after it's over," he sighed finally. "There are people who will try to stop it, not to mention the press, and we can't let that happen. We'll announce it after it's all said and done."
"No worries, mate," said Fred.
"Our lips are sealed," nodded George.
The rest of the table nodded their understanding, with the sole exception of Ron. He was too busy staring again, but it was different now. He was looking at her not just with lust, but also with a massive dose of jealousy, and a healthy dose of anger. Harry wondered how long it would take for him to destroy what little remained of their friendship, but doubted it would be long now.
And Fleur noticed.
"Remember my warning, Ronald," she said quietly, meeting his gaze with a dark one of her own. "'Arry is and always will be my mate, and we veela are very protective. Do not release ze secret, or you will deal wiz me."
Ron nodded sharply, but Harry doubted he truly heard.
He was too busy raging internally about the supposed unfairness of his life.
Chapter 19
The Wedding
The rest of the week was remarkably calm, all things considered. Harry attended his classes during the day, and split his evenings between Fleur and Sebastian. The latter had a number of things to discuss with him, ranging from recommended changes to his financial position, to explaining how the wedding would work.
And then he blinked, and the week was gone.
Before he knew it, he found himself standing in a daze on the grounds of the Chateau, which turned out to be an actual castle. While it was the size of an average mansion rather than something like Hogwarts, it was still quite impressive. Situated on plush, expansive grounds, it was like something out of a fairytale.
Light-colored stonework glittered under the rays of the morning sun, giving the place an almost ethereal glow that reminded him of Fleur. Beautiful stained glass was interspersed here and there among large picture windows, as though the designer wanted the beauty without sacrificing the view of the grounds. Spires rose at the four corners like miniature versions of Gryffindor Tower.
And all around was an expanse of rolling hills and valleys, carpeted with plush green grass, and dotted here and there with trees so ancient that they had probably outlived even Merlin himself. The ocean was visible on the horizon, and the sound of distant waves crashing upon the shore was remarkably soothing. It was breathtaking, and incredibly peaceful.
But Harry was having a hard time taking it in.
A heavy weight had settled on him in the last hours as he realized the sheer magnitude of what was about to happen. True, for three weeks now he'd known intellectually that he was getting married, and that it was forever, but that was intellectually. His subconscious mind, on the other hand, insisted on seeing it as just another adventure that would last through the year and be done.
But that wasn't going to happen, was it? Never again would he return to his dreary existence at the Dursleys; instead he would be here in this idyllic setting. This was his reality now, but it didn't seem at all real; how could it be? It was too good to be true.
And then there was Fleur. She was no longer merely a visiting guest who he barely knew and wouldn't have to worry about after the year was over. No, in too short a time, she would become his wife who he barely knew instead.
She was not simply going away. She would be part of his life forever. He could barely fathom the actual meaning of the word, and where he once had vague ideas and dreams about how his future would go, he no longer had a single clue. What would it be like living with her for the rest of his life?
The entire concept was incomprehensible, and thinking about it made his chest tighten painfully.
"Ready, kiddo?"
Harry blinked out of his daze and turned to see his godfather approaching from the direction of the Chateau. Nobody had told him ahead of time that he'd made it to safety, and it was a wonderful surprise. He looked much better: gone were the rags and the matted hair, and in their place were fine robes and a sleek ponytail that made him look quite distinguished.
True, his eyes were still haunted, and he had a long way to go before his cheeks would lose that sunken look, but it was still a massive improvement, and lessened Harry's worries considerably. Instead of running from the Ministry, he would live with the Delacours until something more permanent could be arranged. He would eat well and be comfortable, and Harry would be able to see him from time to time, which was brilliant.
Harry snorted morbidly at him, though. "Ready?" he echoed in honest confusion. "Sirius, I don't think I'll be ready for this in ten years! What the hell am I doing?"
Sirius approached him and studied his expression for a long moment. "You're saving the life of a beautiful girl," he said seriously as he clapped him on the shoulder. "It's a damn fine thing to do, and the rest will work itself out, alright? Now, just try to relax and get through it."
Harry took a deep breath and forced himself to nod, though he somehow doubted it would be so easy. His heart rate increased as Sirius steered him toward the pavilion under which he would cement his future, and he did his best to breathe and remain calm. It was difficult to do.
The pavilion was situated in a shallow depression near the Chateau, with white latticework surrounding a hexagonal platform, and a domed roof overhead. The latticework rose only a couple of feet from the floor, providing for easy viewing for the assembled guests. Even from a distance, Harry could easily pick out the stately form of Amelia Bones as she waited patiently for him.
Surrounding the structure, the guests sat in simple white chairs set out in a crescent formation, broken only by the aisle that ran up the middle. A long red carpet had been laid over the grass there, and it ran all the way through the open area in front and up the steps, clinging to their shape, and into the pavilion. To the side was a simple platform where a string quartet was playing some kind of march that he wasn't familiar with.
Harry squared his shoulders and stood tall as he walked up the aisle with Sirius by his side. Unlike Muggle weddings, wizards had no concept of bridesmaids or best men; there was only family, who were there for support until the time came. And though his godfather's hand had finally fallen from his shoulder, he was grateful for his presence.
He could not believe he was actually doing this!
Sirius separated at the base of the pavilion, leaving him to climb the stairs on his own, as was required. Sebastian had explained that it was symbolic: family could follow you many places, but there were some where you could only walk alone. This decision was his to make, and nobody could make it for him.
Taking a deep breath, but not slowing, Harry ascended the two shallow steps onto the floor of the pavilion, and then turned to await his bride. He had not yet seen the guests, and he was surprised at how many there were, even if it was only thirty or so. Most were human, but there were also quite a few veela, and he even noticed with some surprise that Riptooth and Ragnok had come.
Sebastian and Arienne sat to his right in the front row; both were smiling, and though Arienne already had tears in her eyes, they were clearly tears of joy. Next to her, Caterine's expression was more mischievous, but what she was thinking about, he would probably never know. He smiled at all of them, silently acknowledging them as his new family, as unreal as that still seemed.
On the other side of the aisle was Sirius, who had just taken his place, and next to him sat a dazed-looking Remus Lupin, to Harry's pleasure. Professor McGonagall of all people – he was surprised she decided to attend – was sitting next to them, eyeing them warily. He couldn't keep the slight smirk off his face; she'd likely had far too much experience of their pranks.
And on both sides of the aisle in the second row sat many of the Weasleys.
To Arthur he gave a genuine smile, but Molly was another matter entirely. Though she'd sent a long and apparently very sincere letter of apology, it was still very hard to forgive her. He was no longer confident in her opinion of him, and that was a bitter pill to swallow; he simply didn't trust her anymore. But, not wanting to have any regrets later, he'd invited her anyway.
The twins sat opposite their parents on the other side, and both were grinning, though there was a serious look in their eyes that once again underscored that one should never underestimate them. They knew this was a solemn if joyful occasion, and they would not make a scene. He hadn't even thought to warn them off from it, but it appeared to be unnecessary, at least for the ceremony.
Next to them was Ginny, and he was shocked to see her in tears. She looked heartbroken! He knew she had a crush on him, but was it really that serious? His smile faltered upon seeing it, but he forced it back to his lips. He'd never thought of her in the way she wanted, and she was going to have to get used to that, but he still didn't want to offend her.
And all the way on the other side, next to his parents, sat Ron.
While he probably thought that his feelings were well hidden, Harry knew him too well not to see them. His jealousy was reaching insane proportions. He viewed Harry's life through rose tinted glasses, and would likely never understand what that life would cost him if he had it himself. It was sad, but Harry didn't want to think about that today, so he merely maintained his now-wooden smile and moved on.
He recognized many other faces. Hermione and her parents, sitting behind the Weasleys, beaming at him; Neville Longbottom, sitting next to Hermione, holding her hand; Susan Bones, on the other side of the aisle next to Neville's grandmother. He even spotted Dobby lurking in back, and many more besides who he had never met before – mostly the veela.
And then the music changed, and all was forgotten as he turned his attention to where Fleur was making her approach.
She was, in a word, stunning!
And frankly, that didn't do her justice. She was as radiant as ever, even with her allure restrained. Her flowing white robes shimmered, adding to her natural glow. Her silver hair shone brightly under the sun, arranged in a neat plait that fell down her back, only a few loose wisps framing her delicate features.
She looked happier than he had ever seen her, and he could detect no fear or regret behind her eyes, which surprised him and made his smile turn truly genuine. All other considerations aside, it was astounding that he could end up with such a beautiful creature. She even put the other veela to shame, at least in Harry's opinion.
Gabrielle held her hand as they approached, her head turning every which way as she tried to take everything in at once. She, too, was dressed in white robes, and looked terribly cute. Fleur had insisted that she be the one to deliver her to the pavilion; she loved her sister deeply, and wanted her involved. Harry could only agree that she was the perfect choice.
The younger veela, however, could not hold his attention like her sister could.
Gabrielle obediently peeled off to go sit with her parents, and Harry offered an arm as Fleur gracefully ascended the steps. She accepted with a soft smile, and then they both moved forward, coming to a stop in front of Madam Bones. The woman smiled pleasantly down at them, giving each a subtle nod before looking out over the guests.
The quartet fell silent, and a hush fell over the area as the ceremony began.
"Good morning," announced Amelia in a clear, ringing tone. "We are here today to witness the joining of two lives in the eyes of Magic. Variations of this ceremony extend to us from the dawn of time itself, through the time of Merlin and the Founders, and onward to the present day. Of all the many traditions we hold dear, this is the most profound; the most sacred.
"As Merlin himself once said, while we can brew our potions and cast our spells, the true beauty of magic lies not in those simple things, but in the bonds of friendship and love. Each of our lives affects countless others in infinite and unpredictable ways. But never will that magic be more visible than between two people who choose to share their hearts, their lives, and their souls.
"Today's union is unique in that it is one borne of necessity. A month ago, these two young people did not even know each other. They were merely faces in the crowd, noticed but not understood. There was no bond between them, and they so easily could have parted none the wiser.
"But Magic works in mysterious ways. Though this joining is necessary for the survival of the bride, neither of these young people have taken it for granted. They have instead chosen to build something much stronger, much deeper, and much more resilient. They have learned about each other; they have come to respect each other; and they have come to like each other.
"And as surely as I stand before you today, ladies and gentlemen, I believe that they have come to love each other."
Harry and Fleur exchanged smiles, though on Harry's part that smile was a little sad. He did not truly understand what Fleur felt for him, let alone what he felt for her, and he would not even consider lying to her about that. But Amelia's words gave him hope, and he felt deep in his soul that one day he really would come to love her.
And he wanted to, for what would his life be, if he never found love?
"And so it is my honor," continued Amelia, "to join these two lives today. And to that end, I now call upon these two people to come forth and proclaim their bond."
With another deep breath, Harry took a symbolic step forward, as did Fleur beside him. And again his nerves flared up, for what he was about to do could never be undone. But he squelched them, reminding himself that he liked her, and that he must do this, because he could not allow her to die.
"Harry James Potter," intoned Amelia, "I ask you now, should you choose it, to swear your life to this woman before these witnesses."
Harry swallowed the lump in his throat, stood up a little straighter, turned to face Fleur, and drew his wand from the pocket of his robes, hold it loosely at his side. He was so nervous that it took a moment for him to remember what he was supposed to say, but he was fast enough that nobody noticed. And in a clear voice that surprised even himself, he took the first step.
"On my magic," he said as he stared into her eyes, "I do hereby swear my allegiance, my magic, and my life to this woman, that no other shall come between us."
Amelia nodded and shifted her gaze to Fleur. "Fleur Annalise Delacour," she intoned, "I ask you now, should you choose it, to swear your life to this man before these witnesses."
And like Harry, Fleur drew her wand to hold at her side, never taking her gaze from him. He could see the deep emotions swimming in her eyes. "On my magic," she said clearly, "I do 'ereby swear my allegiance, my magic, and my life to this man, that no other shall come between us."
Harry felt a deep warmth flow through him at her words, spoken with such conviction. This was not a mere show for him; these words had meaning, and he could tell that just as he meant every word he spoke, so had she. And to hear her pledge herself to him in that fashion moved him deeply.
Remembering what was supposed to happen now, Harry raised his wand so that the tip met Fleur's in the space between them, just barely touching. Fleur smiled at him, and he could not help but return it, even as Amelia started speaking again.
"I, Amelia Susan Bones, do hereby seal these oaths, and I call upon Magic to bind these souls in matrimony, that they may be as one from this day forth." And with that, she added her own wand to the mix and intoned, "So mote it be!"
"So mote it be!" echoed Harry and Fleur in unison.
Harry had never before seen Magic invoked in this fashion. It was usually spells and incantations, or a simple oath that a single person gave. But it worked, and what happened next surprised him, as nobody had warned him about it.
First the dim white glow appeared as he'd been told it would, but it was only supposed to last for a second or two. Instead it remained, and then grew brighter – and quickly started acquiring color. And as the magic swelled he felt it moving within him, seeking out his magical core, worming its way inside.
It took only a moment to realize that what he was feeling was Fleur's magic.
It was warm, and it was comforting, and though Harry had never known the meaning of the word, it felt loving. It wormed its way deep within, wrapping around him, bringing him a sense of peace that he'd never known before. And as it began to fade, the only word he had to describe what he was feeling was complete.
Meanwhile, the colorful glow settled into a deep golden hue, the light of it reflected brightly in Fleur's wide eyes. She, apparently, hadn't expected this either. But they only had a moment more to appreciate it before it began to fade, receding into their skin, fusing with their very beings.
It left them breathless.
There was a ringing silence as the glow faded out, leaving the couple staring in awe at each other. In that moment, there was nobody else in the world. He stared deeply into her eyes, and though a multitude of questions intruded on his consciousness, none of them mattered.
And then, finally, Amelia broke the silence.
"Ladies and gentlemen," she announced, "The bond has been formed, and these two are now one. It is my honor, and my great pleasure, to introduce to you for the first time, Harry and Fleur Potter!" Catcalls and whistles went up at the announcement, even as she amended in a quiet undertone, "Go on."
Fleur's expression cleared at her prompt, and even as Harry remembered what came next, her smile turned blinding. He could not stop himself from mirroring it as he leaned in, and as their lips brushed, he wrapped his arms around her. He would never know how long that kiss lasted, for it went on for an eternity, but was far too short.
Their guests were still applauding when they finally drew apart, but before Harry could offer Fleur his arm, Amelia put a hand on each of their shoulders to stop them. He looked up at her questioningly, but she just gave him a smile and a wink.
"Let it be known," she boomed, silencing the crowd almost instantly, "that this union has been blessed by Magic herself, as I stand in witness. A golden aura such as we saw today is very rare. This union is Chosen of Magic, and I think it safe to say that they will have a wonderful life together."
Another huge round of applause went up, and Harry exchanged a wide-eyed look with Fleur. He didn't understand even half of that, but he knew it was a big deal. He would have to ask about it later; he was certain Sebastian would know, and failing that, then he could ask Hermione. He had no doubt that by now she had read all about magical marriage customs...
"Shall we, mon amour?" smiled Fleur.
Harry nodded and with a smile, he led her out of the clearing, and into their new life together.
Chapter 20
Moments In Time
The reception took place in Fleur's favorite glen on the far side of the pavilion. She had no doubt that her parents had chosen it for just that reason, and she was very pleased. It was her favorite place to play as a child, and as she grew older, she often came here to escape and find peace.
The ancient oak trees surrounding it were decorated with colorful streamers, and she swore she saw a fairy or two flitting amongst the branches, which meant that it would be quite a display come nightfall. A buffet table stood at one end, piled high with snacks and refreshments, and a portable dance floor dominated the other. In between were numerous tables, all draped with fine white linens.
Having finally escaped the requisite encounters with the more prominent guests – including the French Minister of Magic himself – Fleur was now listening to Hermione yammer on about her wedding ring. Unlike Muggle weddings, the rings were not purchased and exchanged by the bride and groom; instead, they were summoned by the bonding magic. Hers was a delicate platinum band topped with a tastefully understated diamond, and it was giving the girl fits at the moment.
"But that's impossible!" she burst. "Gamp's Third Law clearly states that you can't conjure precious metals or gems!"
Her parents stood on either side of her, and looked highly amused by her reaction. Given the number of questions that they themselves had asked about the ceremony, it was obvious where she had come by her personality. This amused Fleur to no end.
"It is one of ze greatest mysteries of magic, 'ermione," she told her patiently. "Zere are many theories, but it 'as never been explained."
"Maybe they're not conjured," put in Neville unexpectedly from somewhere behind her, startling her and making her jump. "They could be translocated from somewhere or something."
Fleur flashed him a smile as he passed and shrugged noncommittally. Predictably, Hermione latched onto the theory and launched into a highly technical discussion with him as he took up a position by her side. Though he probably did not understand even half of it, he endured it patiently; he clearly loved the girl.
She soon tuned them out, however. Harry had gone off to get drinks some time ago and had yet to return, and she was starting to worry. Though he had not uttered a single word of complaint, she was well aware that the first two hours of the reception had been exceedingly difficult for him; he hated attention of any kind, and on this occasion he was receiving it in spades.
But as she scanned the crowd, her attention was caught by someone else.
Ginny Weasley sat sullenly at a nearby table, shooting her a dark glare. This was not the first time she had noticed it; the girl had been doing it ever since the ceremony. She had no idea what she might have done to deserve it, but Ginny was clearly angry with her for some reason.
"Why is she looking at me like zat?" she wondered, interrupting the conversation.
"Who?" frowned Hermione. Then she followed Fleur's gaze and groaned. "Oh boy," she sighed.
Fleur turned away from the obviously angry redhead and gave Hermione her full attention. "Did I do somezing to offend 'er?" she asked bluntly.
"Yeah," snorted Neville. "You married Harry."
Fleur blinked bemusedly.
"Uh oh," chuckled Hermione's father. "I think someone has a little crush!"
His wife and daughter whacked him lightly on either arm in silent rebuke for the comment, but then Hermione confirmed it. "He's right," she nodded, throwing him a darkly amused look. "She grew up on stories about him, and swore she would marry him someday."
Fleur turned back to study the girl in question, who was still trying to burn holes in her from afar. "I think I must deal wiz zis," she said with a weary sigh. "Will you keep 'Arry busy for me when 'e comes back?"
Hermione couldn't hold in her wince. "Sure," she nodded, "but I don't think it'll do much good, Fleur. She's been pining after him for years."
"Be zat as it may," said Fleur darkly, "'e is my 'usband, and she needs to– 'ow do you say? Get over it?"
"Good luck with that," said Neville with uncharacteristic sarcasm.
Fleur just rolled her eyes at him and made for Ginny's table. In truth, while it was annoying, she would not ordinarily have said anything – but given how Harry felt about the Weasleys, she did not want any more of them to turn on him. Ron was already giving him fits, and Molly had added to it significantly. A third such incident would do nobody any good.
Ginny's eyes narrowed at her approach, but she ignored it; the girl was not nearly as intimidating as she seemed to think she was.
She was the only one at the table, so Fleur plopped down across from her without so much as a word. Ginny's eyes narrowed further, but she met her angry gaze unflinchingly and allowed the silence to spiral, if only to prove that she was unaffected by it.
"Would you like to tell me why you are so angry wiz me?" she asked eventually.
"I think you know," growled Ginny.
Fleur arched an eyebrow, leaned back in her chair, and folded her arms across her chest. In her experience, that kind of response meant only one thing: she did not want to say, because she did not want to look foolish. It was a bit late for that, though.
"I do not like to make assumptions," she said directly. "I would rather 'ear it from you."
Ginny stared back at her for a long while, her cheeks heating in either anger or embarrassment, Fleur couldn't tell which. If Hermione was right about this – which she had no doubt of – then the girl really did need to get over it. Harry was a married man now, and as far as she knew, he had never had any kind of romantic interest in her.
"You trapped him," Ginny eventually hissed.
Fleur snorted morbidly. "We were both trapped," she countered flatly.
"You don't look too upset about it," snarled Ginny.
"I am not upset now," she said pointedly, "but I was not 'appy when I found out, of zis I assure you."
Ginny snorted in obvious disbelief. "Oh, right!" she spat. "Looks, fame, money, he's got it all! I'll bet you were thrilled!"
The girl's voice was starting to rise, so Fleur drew her wand under the table and cast a privacy charm to keep others from listening in. She had a bad feeling that Ginny took after her mother in that she simply assumed that she was right. The apple had not fallen far from the tree.
"I 'ave no wish to be famous, Ginny," she replied quietly, her voice taking on a slight edge, "and I 'ave money and beauty enough for both of us. I do not care about zose things any more zan 'Arry does."
"Whatever," the girl snorted. "I'm sure you're just what he needs!" Then she leaned forward and once again tried for the intimidating glare, but completely missed the mark. "You're a complete bitch, and everyone knows it!" she hissed. "You're totally wrong for him! He deserves far better than you!"
Fleur's eyes narrowed involuntarily at the frank insult. She was quite used to it, so it didn't really affect her, but this girl had a lot of nerve to say it to her face, and on her wedding day no less. If she couldn't handle it, then she shouldn't have come!
But what really made her angry was the girl's blanket assumption that she knew what was best for Harry. Knowing what she now did, Fleur doubted that even Hermione was qualified to say that, and she knew him better than anyone else. None of them had a single clue who he really was.
It also struck her as ironic that they were both being lusted after by members of the Weasley family, but she pushed that thought away as quickly as she could.
Fleur leaned forward again and hit the girl with one of her best glares, causing her eyes to widen slightly. When she spoke, it was with a deliberation that underscored her deadly seriousness. She was not messing around.
"Do not presume to know me, Ginny," she growled. "And for zat matter, do not presume to know 'Arry. You know nuzzing at all about eizzer of us, zis I promise you. Make no mistake, 'e is my 'usband, and zat will nevair change."
Fleur had to admit that she was impressed when Ginny didn't back down. Most people who saw her in this state ran the other direction! Her irritation was not feigned, and it was never wise to anger a veela. But Ginny held her ground, her eyes going back to narrow slits.
"If you hurt him, so help me..." she ground out.
A snort escaped Fleur before she could squelch it. This little girl was threatening her! It was cute, in an appalling sort of way. But it did tell her one thing: while there was no doubt that her reaction was mostly due to her obvious jealousy, there was also more to her feelings than that...
"'Arry is my mate, Ginny," she said, forcing her voice to lose most of its edge. "Do not doubt even for a moment zat I will defend 'im wiz my life, just as surely as 'e gave up 'is own for me." Then she lowered her voice, and dropped any pretense. "And I am 'is wife," she said quietly. "If you cannot get past your jealousy, zen you will lose 'is friendship entirely. 'E would not 'ave made such a profound oath unwillingly, and I zink you know zat."
Ginny stared at her for a long moment as the statement sunk in, and then her cheeks abruptly lost their color. Fleur nodded in satisfaction: the girl had apparently forgotten that, in spite of his shy personality, Harry always did what he felt was right, no matter the cost. He had promised never to let anyone come between them, and without a doubt, he meant that promise.
Seeing that no response was forthcoming, Fleur rose gracefully to her feet, satisfied that she at least wouldn't be glared at for the rest of the day. "Think about it," she said softly. "'E values 'is friends greatly, and you will 'urt 'im worse zan you know if you keep zis up."
Then, having done what she came to do, she turned and walked unhurriedly back toward the shady spot where Hermione and her parents were still standing. It was with some relief that she realized that Harry had finally returned; he was facing away from her, and somewhere along the line he had picked up a passenger. Gabrielle was riding piggy-back, with her chin resting on his shoulder as she watched the conversation.
The scene brought a soft smile to Fleur's face. She loved her sister dearly, and she was very glad to see that he got along so well with her. They had not yet discussed the idea of having a family of their own, but she suspected that he would make an excellent father some day.
She sidled up to him and took his arm, her free hand snatching the glass of punch that he had kindly brought for her, and when he turned to her, his eyes softened as was becoming commonplace. His exhaustion was reflected clearly there, but so was his determination: he would make it through the day come hell or high water. It made her want to comb her fingers through his hair in an offering of quiet comfort, but she had no free hands with which to do so.
"Everything alright?" he asked quietly, not noticing the scrutiny he was suddenly under from the elder Grangers, who had yet to see them together.
Fleur nodded at him. "She will come around," she shrugged, knowing full well that Hermione would have told him what was going on. "It will just take some time."
He nodded and leaned into her a little. "Thanks, Fleur," he sighed. "I really didn't want to deal with it today."
In response, she leaned over and planted a soft kiss on his forehead, which made him close his eyes in obvious enjoyment. And as she pulled back, she saw a wide smile on her sister's face: she was apparently quite thrilled that he was part of the family now. It was fortunate that her sister had decided not to be jealous; that would not have been fun.
==========[break]==========
For Harry, the entire event was completely surreal. He still had yet to wrap his head around the fact that he was married. But even so, and even with the stress he was under from dealing with so many strangers, he would not have traded it for the world.
He would remember this day for the rest of his life, and was immensely pleased that it was going off without a hitch.
They were standing near the buffet table now, where Sirius and Remus were holding court with the Delacours and Amelia Bones. The discussion currently centered around Sirius: France had raised the issue of his innocence with Britain, but Minister Fudge refused to pull his head out of the sand. To say that Amelia was frustrated was putting it mildly.
"We need to get that man out of office," she growled. "He has to be the worst Minister we've ever had!"
"If only it were so easy," sighed Sebastian. "For now there is little we can do. Minister Bertrand 'as tried to force the issue, but 'e as made little progress."
"Why not leak it to the press?" wondered Harry. "Wouldn't that put pressure on him to do something?"
"Fudge has too much control over the Prophet, Harry," frowned Remus. "He'd force them not to print it."
Harry scowled. The more he saw of magical government in Britain, the more convinced he was that it was completely corrupt. Fudge was an idiot, and with someone like Lucius Malfoy pulling his strings, he was practically a supporter of Voldemort. And the fact that he controlled the press explained an awful lot.
"At least Sirius is safe," soothed Fleur, combing her fingers gently through his hair. "Ze Aurors 'ere know zat 'e is innocent, so zey will not bozzer 'im."
Harry closed his eyes and leaned into her touch, but he just couldn't let the subject go. "We should just buy the Prophet," he groused. "It would make life so much easier."
Fleur chuckled at the comment, and Sirius let out a bark of laughter and slapped Remus on the shoulder. "Wouldn't that be a great prank, Moony?" he grinned. "We could turn the whole thing against Fudge!"
Remus just rolled his eyes, though. "There's a reason he controls the Prophet, Padfoot," he replied dryly. "It's called majority ownership. Good luck with buying–"
"Padfoot?" interrupted two voices simultaneously.
The incredulous chorus startled Harry, and he turned to see a stunned Fred and George staring blankly at Sirius; apparently they had passed by at just the right moment and overheard part of the conversation. An evil grin slowly spread on his lips: he had forgotten they didn't know who their idols really were.
"Yes?" frowned Sirius.
"Padfoot?" repeated one of them. "Really?"
Sirius blinked bemusedly at them for a long moment before– "Moony," he said slowly, turning to Remus. "Did I miss something?"
"You're Moony?" burst the twins, staring incredulously at Remus.
"Er, yes?" blinked Remus.
"That's impossible!" said one of the twins.
"Way too stuffy to be Moony," nodded the other emphatically.
"Harrykins put you up to this, right?" asked the first.
Harry chortled at their obvious disbelief. It had never occurred to him to tell them the real story behind the Marauders, and apparently Ron had never done so either. He almost wished that he'd thought of it earlier; he could have gotten a lot of mileage out of it...
But he was distracted when Sirius turned to him and cocked an eyebrow. "Care to explain, Dupli-Prongs?" he asked pointedly.
Harry snorted at the nickname, and ignored Fred and George when they turned to stare incredulously at him. "It's a bit of a story, Padfoot," he smiled. "See, back in third year I needed a way out of the castle, and Fred and George here decided to help me out by giving me a blank piece of parchment." He smirked as he added, "Then they made me solemnly swear that I was up to no good."
A highly impressed look came over Sirius, and he turned an appraising gaze on the twins. "You stole the Map back from Filch?" he breathed.
Both twins blinked.
"Yeah," frowned one of them – Fred, if Harry wasn't mistaken. "Found it in first year."
"It was in a cabinet marked 'Confiscated and Highly Dangerous," confirmed George.
"What map is zis?" asked Arienne curiously.
"The Marauder's Map," explained Remus with a dreamy look. "We made it when we were at Hogwarts. It's a map of the entire castle that shows where everyone is."
"Great for troublemaking," nodded Sirius. "We almost never got caught after that."
"Until Wormtail lost it to Flich," growled Remus.
"Sounds like you 'ad fun in your school days," grinned Sebastian.
"They're famous!" burst George. "Best pranksters Hogwarts ever saw!"
"Why thank you," preened Sirius, even as Remus grinned happily at the praise.
"Wait," frowned Fred, turning a look on Harry. "Does that mean your dad was Prongs?"
"Yeah," Harry nodded. "And Pettigrew was Wormtail."
There was a brief silence, and then George turned back to Remus. "No way," he said with a shake of his head. "Sirius I can believe, and maybe James Potter, but you? There's no way you're Moony."
"Where do you think the nickname comes from?" asked Remus with an arched eyebrow. "Werewolf, remember?"
Both twins blinked at that, and Sirius chortled. "He was the perfect foil," he grinned. "The only one of us that never got caught. McGonagall was appalled when she found out."
"Too right!" came the voice of the stern Transfiguration Professor as she approached from the other side of their little group. She immediately fixed Sirius with one of her patented glares, too. "You're not encouraging these two, are you?" she asked him pointedly.
"No!" sputtered Sirius, putting his hands up in a placating gesture. "Not at all!"
Everyone burst out laughing as Sirius backpedaled, including McGonagall. Meanwhile, Fleur wrapped her arms around Harry from behind and rested her chin atop of his head. Overcome by a pleasant warmth, he leaned back and closed his eyes, savoring the sensation.
For the first time he could remember, he felt as though all was right with the world. He had never known what it was to have a family, but describing these people in that fashion just felt... right. He had Sirius and Remus to represent his parents, and now the Delacours, who he was rapidly becoming close with. And that was to say nothing of his newly-minted wife...
And as the conversation continued around him, he could only pray that he would have this for a long time to come.