“Miss Fleur? Miss Fleur, wake up.”
Fleur awoke with a sleepy mumble, her eyes blinking rapidly as she tried to adjust to the sudden light in her room, spilling from the now open curtains. “Mama?”
Her maid, Anna, stood over her, an apologetic smile on her face, “It's just me, miss Fleur. The Madam and Master are asking for you in the living room.”
The three year old girl struggled to a sitting position, chubby little fist rubbing at her sleepy eyes as the morning sun cast across her sheets. “Mama’n Papa?”
She held out her arms, reaching for the maid. Smiling, Anna reached forward, gathering the little girl into her arms. As she headed out of Fleur’s room and down the ornate, carpeted hallway of the Delacour Mansion, Fleur rested her head on the maid’s shoulder, little arms gripping at the woman.
Down the stairway and across the grand entrance hall, Anna carried the little girl to the west wing, stopping in front of the dark wooden door of the living room. She reached out with one pale hand, and knocked sharply on the door.
“Come in.” A melodic voice called from inside.
Pushing open the door, the maid carried the young girl into the powder blue room, embellished in gold. Fleur lifted her head from Anna’s shoulder, spotting Apolline and Sebastian Delacour stood in front of the sofa.
She twisted in the older girl’s arms, reaching for her parents, her face breaking into a cute smile, “Maman!”
In one graceful motion, Apolline stepped forward, plucking her daughter from the maid’s arms and cradling her close, placing a gentle kiss on Fleur’s brow. Fleur giggled, snuggling into her mother’s arms happily.
“Fleur,” Her father said gently, gesturing at the other two people in the room, “I’d like to introduce you to some people.”
Fleur glanced at the two adults, standing across the low coffee table from her parents. The man stood tall, taller than her dad, messy black hair framing hazel eyes, hidden behind large, round glasses. The woman standing next to him had pretty red hair, and bright green eyes. She smiled warmly at the little girl, sitting in her mother’s arms.
But Fleur’s attention was stolen by the little bundle the woman held to her chest, that shifted a little every so often.
“Wha’s that?” She said, leaning forward and pointing at the bundle.
“Oh, this is my son, Miss Fleur.’” the red-haired woman started, her smile widening, “Do you want to see him?”
Fleur nodded, leaning forward even more as the woman moved around the table, letting Fleur get a full view of the little boy’s face as he slumbered peacefully.
“This is Harry,” the woman said proudly. Leaning down, she kissed the baby boy’s forehead softly.
The boy’s brow creased, as he let out a sleepy mumble. His eyes flickered open, and Fleur saw the prettiest green eyes staring back at her for a second, before they shut, as Harry drifted back into the grip of his dreams.
“Can I keep him?” Fleur asked earnestly.