A loud crash woke Fleur with a start, her mind instantly alert, wand in her hand, just as Harry had instructed. He'd been insistent, really, that she knew how to be alert and ready if she were ever startled. A second crash came from downstairs, accompanied by a familiar voice. She smiled, relaxing as recognition sunk in.
Slipping her silk robe on she made her way down the stairs into the living room, where she found the source of the noise. Both end tables near the love seat by the fire were turned over, their lamps in pieces on the floor. The fire cracked as Harry steadied himself, just having gotten off the floor.
"What are you doing?" she asked, causing him to jump in fright, whirling around, though there was a noticeable wobble in his movements. He'd said he'd be out late with his co-workers, she hadn't realized that meant they'd drink this much. His eyes went wide.
"Oh shit, where’d you come from?" he asked worriedly, looking around confused. Fleur rolled her eyes.
"I live here, Harry." He slapped his forehead in disbelief.
"Crap, did I floo to the wrong house? Damn, my wife is going to be pissed."
"Harry," Fleur started, amusement in her tone, "I am your wife." He shook his head.
"You're much prettier than her." His words were slurred slightly, but she resisted the urge to hex him. She sighed.
"I guess I should be flattered," she offered. Again, he shook his head.
"Nah, you're not flat," he said, leaning slightly to look at her hips and bottom.
"Harry!" Fleur exclaimed, her hands going to the hips he had just ogled. He stumbled forward a few paces before shrugging.
"What? With hips like that? Your husband must be very lucky." Looking up at the ceiling, she counted to five, taking a deep breath before looking at him again.
"Okay mister, let's get you to bed," she said. Holding up his hands, he tried to take a step back, but ended up stumbling forward again.
"I'm sorry miss, but I'm a married man. Thank you for the offer though."
"Uh huh," Fleur hummed absentmindedly, going to his side and grabbing his arm, leading him towards the stairs. He offered no resistance, despite his protest, which she was grateful for. He tripped several times going up, but as they finally made it to the top, she sighed with relief.
"You've got a nice house," he said as she led him into the bedroom, pulling back the covers on his side of the bed as she helped him lay down. She was thankful he had arrived in a simple pair of jeans and t-shirt, as he could sleep relatively comfortably in them. Robes would have been a challenge to remove.
"Yeah, I know, you helped design it," she said as she pulled off his shoes, setting them at the foot of the bed. With her task complete, she grabbed his wand from his pocket and placed both it and his glasses on the end table.
"You know," he said, pressing his head into the pillow, "You remind me of my wife. She’s the best." Fleur raised an eyebrow, a humorous smirk on her face as she brushed a stray lock of his messy black hair from in front his eyes.
"Is she now?" Harry nodded.
"Yea. She's always taking care of me, even when I try to keep her away. She's strong, stronger than me. You remind me of her," he said, his eyes getting heavy as he struggled to remain awake, though he seemed more lucid the closer he got to sleep. "I don't tell her enough how much I need her. I should tell her I love her more. Don't want her to forget…" Finally, his head dropped fully, a low snore filling the room.
Leaning down, she kissed his forehead, before pulling the covers up fully.
"She knows Harry, and she loves you just as much," Fleur whispered, climbing into bed and settling next to him. Reaching for his hand under the covers she intertwined their fingers, his own instinctively curling around hers. “And she’ll never forget,” she whispered as she curled up against his arm. With a contented sigh, she closed her eyes, drifting off to sleep herself.