Wind blew across the snow-strewn landscape around them, bringing the chill of ice to his backside. Even while he shivered against the biting coldness, he didn't regret the interlude for a second. Fleur, on the other hand, walked next to him, her face and ears still ablaze with a mix of blush and cold that was unbelievably endearing. Even as he'd grown to know her better, it was hard to shake the perfect unflappable woman he had first laid eyes upon in the top box at the World Cup.
"I am sorry if I am too…exuberant," she said, finally putting words to the worry he had noticed brewing inside her.
He hadn't been expecting an apology, of all things, and had to put in a herculean effort to avoid letting out a short burst of laughter.
Unfortunately, when he looked over, her head was tilted and a smile warred with a frown on her lips.
"What?" she asked. "It is not such a…humorous thing to say."
"It's a little funny. Of course it doesn't bother me."
"It is just…I know you do not like to be touched," she said, lifting their entwined hands between them before letting them fall again.
"It's different with you," he mumbled.
Rather than the smile he expected, uncertainty wavered across her features.
"But you do not…" she said, chewing on her lip. "You do not initiate."
He didn't answer right away, instead searching through the haze of the last two days for some sort of answer.
"It's…new," he finally managed. "It's sort of hard to believe any of it is happening."
An eyebrow arched at him. "I hope it is believable when I am kissing you senseless."
"Very."
She preened at his admission and he felt an odd sort of puzzle piece drop into place. Things he had known about her were similar, but somehow different, now that she was his girlfriend. She certainly seemed to appreciate his compliments more than he would have expected.
He preened a little himself at having learned something about his girlfriend.
His moment of pride was cut short when she pulled him to a stop alongside her, his hand held in a tight grip.
"I am surprised I did not feel that from you sooner," she murmured, her eyes locked on his. "I had expected to feel it from you last night when you first called me your girlfriend."
"What do you mean?"
She sighed, the puff of air floating from her lips. She tucked a few strands of silvery wayward hair behind her ear and grimaced.
"I felt your pride just then, 'Arry. As I said, I had expected to feel it last night. I was very nearly offended when I did not." She finished with a small smile.
He opened his mouth to reply but shut it with a click when her smile faded into a grimace.
"I am sorry. I should not joke. I have thought about this quite a lot over the years."
"I…don't think I understand," he said, jumping in before she could get too much further. "I guess I was feeling pride, but why were you expecting it sooner?"
She hesitated, her free hand twitching up toward the lock of hair that hung over her shoulder. "What did…if you do not mind me asking, what were you thinking a moment ago? Just before I stopped us?"
He felt his ears burn and hoped it was hidden by the touch of the winter wind. He stared at her for a moment before forcing himself to speak.
Of all people, he could be honest with her.
"I realized…how much you like it when I give you a compliment." Embarrassment shifted his eyes out to an invisible point off in the darkness, unable to look into her wide shocked eyes any longer. "I was feeling kind of proud for figuring it out."
"Oh."
He watched in amusement as she flushed deeply, the color traveling down her neck and disappearing beneath the collar of her coat.
"I made an assumption," she said, offering an apologetic smile. "I am sorry."
"It's okay. But…what were you talking about? It seemed important."
Her mouth worked noiselessly for a moment as she searched his face. Rather than speak, she stepped closer and wrapped her arms around his, and pulled him back into a walk.
The snow crunched under their feet as they descended a hill, obscuring the manor behind them from view.
When she spoke again, it was with a soft but steady voice.
"I know that I have decried being Veela for much of our time together," she said over their footfalls. "It brings me difficulties in my day to day life and it will present obstacles to our romantic one."
She trailed off, hugging his arm tight to her as though the wind that blew across them could carry her away.
"But in truth…it is not being Veela that bothers me. It is what happens because I am Veela that is so…hard."
"What do you mean?" he prodded when she didn't continue.
Her smooth gait faltered and she shot a glance up at him before focusing forward again.
"I did not think we would be having this conversation so soon," she whispered.
A crack in her voice revealed a chasm so deep he wondered how he had never fallen in before. Bright eyes grew haunted and a shiver wholly unrelated to the cold ran through him.
"You don't have to if you don't want to," he said, trying to wet his suddenly dry mouth. He'd be the worst kind of hypocrite if he pushed her into revealing more than she wanted to.
"It is okay," she said, squeezing his arm with hers then stepping back. "You have told me so much in our time together."
"That's not why I did it."
"Which is precisely why I will talk about it."
Tension lingered in the air, almost visible through the rapid bursts of vapor as she breathed and searched whatever depths he had stumbled upon.
"Do you remember…when I mentioned the Louvre?" she finally asked, eyes focused so far out into the distance as though trying to see the venerated museum.
"How could I forget?" Nearly half a year later the story still sat bitter on his heart.
A fond smile peeked through the weight that had settled on her. It fled as she began to speak.
"What happened that day left its mark. In more ways than one."
Another smile lifted her lips, but it was ragged and hollow. Warm blue eyes turned to ice.
She lifted a booted foot, kicking up a small tuft of snow.
"You have seen the scars around my ankles, I am sure."
He nodded mutely.
She set her foot back down into the snow but didn't stop staring down at it.
"Do you remember," she continued, her soft and monotonous, "when I said that they used shackles of iron to keep me in that filthy cage?"
He nodded again, a much more horrible piece falling into place. A bellowed warning from Hagrid sounded in his memory like a gong.
She blinked when he stiffened, then stared right through him.
"Iron burns fairies…burns us. For the entirety of the four days that I was trapped in that cage, those shackles ate away at the skin on my ankles." She drew in a sharp breath, then let it out slowly, a small cloud of vapor passing through parted lips. "I was placed on a potion regimen afterward to avoid permanent mobility loss. But…we were never able to get rid of the scars."
A frown wrinkled her brow and her gaze dropped from him and back to her feet as a frozen wind sliced through her steady regression.
"I hated the scars at first," she whispered, forcing him to lean in to hear. Her voice cracked and splintered, each word gouging deeper into that unseen chasm. "They were a persistent reminder of what had happened. Of what could have happened. They…"
The crack widened and fury poured out with each biting word.
"They captured a little girl and made her burn , because of what she would become."
She paused and the anger vanished like a snuffed candle.
"So I came to love my scars. They marred my unblemished skin, made me imperfect. They became a talisman of false protection against the person I was becoming."
A sneer twisted the empty placidity that had settled across her features.
"They did nothing to protect me as I grew. People had expectations of me and my coming 'beauty.' Scarred or otherwise, I was a catch, a prize, and eventually, paradoxically-" her mouth twisted over the word, her brows drawn together over their bitter taste, "- salope ; a slut. All because of the way I look."
Burning fury of his own pulsed through his body, igniting his limbs with the need for action. He knew the horrors his mind conjured paled in front of the memories flashing through her mind, and he could do nothing but rage in silence against the immutable wall that was the past.
A shudder rolled through her, one that began on the very foundations that she had allowed him to glimpse and shook her body as though she were the last leaf of autumn perched to fall.
And yet, beyond the midnight depths she had shown him, the flickering flame of a candle burst to life in the shape of a smile that wrinkled wet blue eyes.
"So why do I tell you this?" she whispered, wiping at the corners of her eyes with the back of a hand. "Why do I bring such pain to a time that has been nothing but joy?"
She searched his face as though it held the answer she looked for. He could do nothing more than stare back, mute.
"Because I can ," she said, her misery shattering to pieces as she let out a breath. "Because I have told no-one the things I have told you."
She took a step closer and placed a trembling hand on his chest.
"Because you make me feel safe, 'Arry."
Her touch sparked life inside him and he grabbed her hand and pulled, bundling her into his arms. A sob escaped alongside a delighted laugh as she clung to him, arms wrapped around his back.
He held her as tightly as he could manage, as she did in return. He felt as though his bones might creak beneath her grip as she fought against the mingled laughter and tears. She burrowed her face into his neck and the tension bled from her with deep breaths that warmed his skin.
With a sigh and a quick squeeze, she stepped back and wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, a shaky laugh escaping as she did so.
"All of that to say; I do not mind when it is you who appreciates my looks," she said, letting her hand fall back to her side. "I am sorry we had to tread such treacherous ground to get there."
"It's okay," he said, rubbing his arms together in an attempt to recapture the fleeing heat left by Fleur's body against his. "You can tell me anything."
She smiled another tremulous smile and reached out to take his hand in hers. "I know. And as much as I want you all to myself, we should get back."
He found that his heart sank a little as they turned back towards the manor. Even after watching her climb from the darkness her story wrought in her, he didn't want their sequestered time to be over.
Besides, it felt special to know something about his girlfriend that no-one else did.
A squeeze on his hand brought him out of his thoughts and he turned to see Fleur grinning at him.
"I can tell when you think of me that way, you know," she said, her blue eyes twinkling in the faint moonlight.
"As…my girlfriend?"
She nodded, her grin growing wider. "It is difficult to describe in words. It's a mix of excitement and muted embarrassment that, in a way, compliments each other. Few emotions mingle fully, at least to my limited sense of them, but that one is different. It also did not start showing up until yesterday, so that was a rather large hint."
"Well…it is exciting," he pointed out. "But you told me you couldn't read my mind."
"I cannot," she assured him with another squeeze of her hand. "However, we have been around each other for long enough that I am able to understand you in ways I had not thought possible. I hope that is okay."
He nodded slowly, surprised to note that it didn't bother him much at all.
"I am glad." She shivered as a breeze blew around them, pushing small waves of snow as it passed. "Accursed cold," she grumbled.
"Couldn't you just…hold a fireball to keep yourself warm?" He asked, voicing a question he had often during the recent winter months.
"You do not remember?" she teased, one eyebrow raised in mock disapproval. "My fire is an extension of myself. It cannot burn or warm me."
"Ah," he replied simply, his face burning. He had forgotten.
"Any other questions?" she asked, her lips pursed in a half-hearted attempt to look put-upon.
"Actually, yeah," he said. "How are you descended from such tiny little things?"
He remembered the little chattering balls of light that had swarmed Seamus and felt his blood run cold at swung iron tongs.
She peered at him for a moment before answering. "Your magical creatures class was lacking," she said carefully. "There is an incredible difference between the lesser fairies and Greater Fae."
Harry frowned. "I think Hagrid mentioned them in class once. He made it sound like they were just…gone."
Fleur only shrugged in response. "I am sure someone out there knows how to find one. In most myths, they are the ones who find you."
He wondered for a moment if any lived in the forbidden forest then quickly dismissed the thought. There was something inhospitable about the woodlands that bordered Hogwarts, the least of which being the nightmarish monsters living inside. He still couldn't believe that a race like the centaurs called it home.
"Now I have a question for you," Fleur said as they crested yet another hill, drawing them ever closer to the manor.
"What is it?"
She didn't ask right away, instead chewing her lip for a moment, anxiety flitting across her features. She squeezed his hand.
"What did Maman talk to you about?"
"Nothing strange," he said. "She showed me the ribbon your dad gave her during their first Christmas." A smile stole its way across her face so fast that he wasn't quite sure he hadn't imagined it. "She mentioned things that might…get in our way."
"Such as my allure?"
"Yeah," he said with a slow nod. "And…my age."
Fleur glared up at the house. "I had hoped that she would not, though I am not surprised." She pulled him to a stop. "Our age difference is uncommon, but not unheard of. Does it bother you?"
"Of course not."
"It does not bother me in the slightest," she said, letting out a long sigh that misted the air. "Maman means well but she can be overzealous."
He shrugged, unsure what to say. She had just seemed concerned to him.
The house loomed in front of them as they drew up to the door.
"I suppose any other questions will have to wait," she said, pulling open the door.
They divested themselves of the coats and soaking wet shoes and socks in the entryway. Fleur cast a drying charm on them, then led him back into the sitting room by the hand.
"Did you enjoy your walk?" Apolline asked from where she sat next to Sebastian, her blanket draped over her lap.
Both Harry and Fleur nodded, finding their place next to Gabrielle still vacant. Fleur plopped down first, then pulled him down next to her, tossing the blanket over them both. Gabrielle made a small noise of annoyance but was quickly reabsorbed in her book.
Fleur all but purred as the warmth from the blanket flooded through them, and she leaned her head against his shoulder. He found that he agreed with the sentiment, and was in almost immediate danger of dozing off.
Fleur, on the other hand, succumbed to the call of sleep instantly, her breathing slow and steady while her grip on his hand loosened. He supposed he couldn't blame her, after how exhausting her tale must have been to speak aloud.
He rested his head atop hers and let himself relax into a light, restful sleep.
He awoke slowly, a warm hand squeezing his shoulder.
"I am sorry, 'Arry," Fleur said as he blinked up at her. She straightened and looked over to where Sirius was talking with her parents next to the fireplace. "We seem to have slept through the remainder of the evening. Sirius will be leaving soon and I need to head home as well."
Harry frowned, trying to push the muddled remnants of sleep from his mind. He noticed something warm on his thigh and looked over to find Gabrielle sprawled out on her half of the couch using her new book as an impromptu pillow. Her forest green blanket rose and fell with the rhythm of sleep.
Sirius spotted that he was conscious and moving and waved for his attention. "About ready to go?" he asked. "I think we've imposed upon our hosts long enough."
Harry lied and nodded, rising to his feet and handing Fleur her blanket.
"Don't look too sour," Sirius said with a laugh. "I've invited everyone over for New Years'. You'll all see each other soon enough."
After extended goodbyes and a long hug from Fleur, Harry followed Sirius reluctantly into the floo. His last glimpse of Delacour Manor faded away with Apolline crooking a finger towards Fleur.
XxX
Harry and Sirius stepped from the floo into the comparatively drab Grimmauld Place. The muted colors and lack of light had grown on Harry, giving something akin to a personality to his godfather's home.
Now it felt like nothing more than dead walls and corners. He was startled out of his longing by Sirius, who had stopped walking in surprise, his body turned to stare at the fireplace.
A massive singular log sat on the andirons inside the fireplace, its center alight with a pulsing red heartbeat.
"Kreacher!" Sirius called out to the air, his voice echoing in the empty house.
The house-elf appeared a moment later, grumbling under his breath. A marked improvement from all the other times he was summoned when he often appeared mid-curse.
"Master," the elf croaked.
Sirius stared down at Kreacher for a moment before speaking, his expression holding little of the venom that it usually did. "Did you burn a Yule log?"
"Kreacher does it every year," the house-elf said, condescension laden throughout his gravelly voice. "If Master had been a proper master, he would have been around to notice. But no. Only Kreacher to do it since Mistress died."
To Harry's surprise, the elf ended his miniature tirade on the verge of tears, his voice akin to the scraping of too many rocks through too small a crack.
"Get out of here, Kreacher."
He vanished without another word, leaving Harry and Sirius alone in the resulting silence.
"Well," Sirius said, bending down to reach beneath the small table that sat between their chairs, "I suppose now is as good a time as any."
He stood up and handed over a small package that was small enough to rest in the palm of Harry's hand. It was wrapped somewhat sloppily, especially compared to the precise lines and exacting quality of Apolline's gifts. He pulled off the paper to find a small dingy mirror.
"It's a two-way mirror," Sirius explained, pulling an identical one from his pocket. "If you say my name, you'll be able to talk to me."
He stared at it for a moment, his mind wandering to the notepaper tucked away in his bedroom.
"I've got yours too," Harry said, pocketing the mirror and digging in the bag he had used to carry the Delacours' gifts. He handed the wrapped package to Sirius, who tore through the paper with a grin.
"I had to play it cool earlier," Sirius said. "I haven't gotten gifts in ages. It's exciting." His words hitched in his throat when he exposed a small picture of Harry's parents waving up at him.
"Hagrid got me a photo album a couple of years ago," Harry explained into the sudden silence. "If you didn't have that one already…I thought you might like it."
"It's fantastic, Harry," Sirius said, then rubbed at his nose in a pathetic attempt to cover a shaky sniff.
"I can show you the rest," Harry offered after Sirius said nothing more. "You can have copies of whichever ones you want."
"I'd like that," Sirius said, running his fingers across the surface of the photo. "Happy Christmas, Harry."
"Happy Christmas, Sirius."
XxX
"Mother!"
Fleur couldn't believe she hadn't set her old bed on fire again for the ferocity of the blush she felt climbing her neck.
"We've been over this already. I'm not a little girl anymore!"
Her mother's eyes narrowed; an imperious glare above similarly colored cheeks.
"Precisely. I doubt you have practiced that charm a single time since I taught it to you years ago. There is nothing wrong with being prudent."
Fleur found she couldn't do anything but splutter, the implication burrowing into her thoughts.
"Go on then," her mother urged, gesturing with her wand. "If you can show me you can do it, I'll never speak of it again."
"You shouldn't be speaking of it now ," Fleur grumbled, snatching her wand from where she had laid it on her bed.
Sometimes it was easier to acquiesce than to fight.
And…
It might be good to know.
Eventually.
She sighed deeply and waved her wand across her middle as instructed.
The spell took on the third try.
XxX
Harry sat cross-legged on his bed, scratching Hedwig on the top of her head. He palmed another treat for her to nibble out of his hand.
Arrayed in front of him on the bed were the results of her hard work throughout the day. However it was she managed to get where she needed to go so fast he'd never know but at times, he suspected his familiar of apparating.
Which was hardly fair, since he wouldn't be able to do it for years yet.
Though, if she could deliver so many Christmas cards in a day, he wouldn't complain.
He grabbed the last unopened letter and broke the seal with his finger. He recognized the handwriting on the front from countless copied notes over the years.
Harry,
Happy Christmas! I've been waiting five years to send you a Christmas card! I've sent Ron one every single year and have yet to receive one back. How's that for gratitude? Speaking of Ron, you let me know if you don't get one from him.
Harry glanced over to a card laying open next to his knee. Happy Christmas was scrawled across the middle of the card in his friend's messy script.
I hope it's okay, but I let everyone know you can get mail this Christmas. I made it sound like you usually went on vacation somewhere, so it's up to you if you want people to know they can owl you now.
I hope it was a nice surprise and you got a bunch of cards! Even Luna said she'd send you one!
Harry let out a laugh. He hadn't been able to figure out who had sent him the unsigned letter with a flower pressed inside.
I hope you've had an excellent Christmas, Harry, and I hope your visit with Fleur went well too! If you get this before visiting them, please let her know I said hello!
Happy Christmas!
Hermione
Harry reread the letter, then made a mental note to remind Hermione that Fleur liked writing letters, and he doubted one from her would be ill-received.
Maybe Fleur would somehow coax deep-held secrets from Hermione as well.
He gathered the cards from around him, disturbing Hedwig with a quick apology. He arranged them atop his dresser, standing each one on its side so the fronts were visible from his bed. With the exception of the bright orange Halloween cards Fred and George had sent him.
As had become his nightly ritual, he pulled his notepaper from the drawer of his bedside table and unfolded it to find fresh words scrawled across one side.
Happy Christmas, Harry. Thank you for an unbelievable couple of days.
Happy Christmas. I really
He stared down at the paper, quill hovering in the air.
She was thanking him?
He had lucked into dating someone who could tolerate his history and Voldemort and all his panic and anxieties. It seemed entirely unfair that someone like her should be thanking him. And for what? For returning the favor of listening?
And what was he supposed to say? You're welcome?
He flipped the paper back over to reread her note and found it had already vanished with new letters snaking their way across the page.
Have I rendered you speechless yet again?
I guess so. It's still sort of hard to believe I'm not dreaming.
I would not say no to more dinner dates until you begin to believe it is true. I have some excellent suggestions. Perhaps you can branch out from English cuisine.
It's worth a try. I can't make any promises about quality though.
Nor I about my ability to help, but I shall try.
It's a deal. Happy Christmas, Fleur. Goodnight.
Goodnight, Harry.
XxX
Harry rode his Christmas high for days, the drab ambiance of Grimmauld place unable to hamper his spirits. Between more regular notes with Fleur and listening to stories from Sirius, he had begun to dread the end of such an idyllic holiday.
He'd taken to exploring the upper floors in his spare time when Sirius was busy with heated floo calls. He hadn't been able to figure out who his godfather was whisper-arguing with, and when Sirius finished, looking so tired and worn, he didn't have the heart to ask.
He had made sure to avoid the fifth floor which Sirius said housed a boggart, not wanting the image of his uncle to sour his good mood. His most recent excursion had been the one he saved for last out of significant disinterest.
The Black Family Library presented itself as more of a long-term storage room than a collection of prized family tomes and grimoires. He stepped between precarious stacks of boxes, careful to keep his shirt from catching on protruding corners. He made it to the far wall without making a mess and pulled open the curtains in front of the window.
Light spilled into the unkempt room, setting a column of dust aglow in the air around him. He waved a hand to ineffectually dispel the dust and examined the shelf nearest to him. To his surprise, they hardly seemed worthy of the reputation the Blacks had cultivated. A few even looked like standard school textbooks.
As he continued his path away from the window, the books drew more into line with what he had been expecting. Basic leather spines held increasingly esoteric titles.
"Theories on Transcendental Magical Connections"
"Magical Bondage and Servitude"
"The Soul's Journey"
"Spell Substrates: Affecting Undetectable Change"
"Advancements on Owle"
A noise from the other side of the room made him jump and he found Sirius standing in the doorway, peering over the boxes.
"Careful with those," he said. "You're close to some of the…family favorites."
Harry took a step back, letting the finger he'd been using to trace the spines fall down to his side. "Why keep them around?" he asked, glancing over at "Advancements on Owle," which had quivered slightly. "Why not burn them or something?"
Sirius barked out a laugh. "If you can destroy them, be my guest. Generations of Blacks have enchanted those books to keep them safe and in our possession. Some are so tied to our family that you couldn't even read them if you aren't a part of the main branch."
Harry gazed along the numerous bookshelves, feeling as though he ought to be able to spot the ones that held such secretive magic.
Sirius fidgeted in the doorway, drawing Harry's attention.
"I actually come up to ask you something serious," he said, folding his arms as he leaned against the door frame.
"Okay," Harry said slowly.
"Um…Jacobson has asked that you come along to one of our sessions. You don't have to if you don't want to. It's totally optional."
"Jacobson?"
"The mind-healer the Ministry says I have to go to in order to get reinstated as Head of House."
"But…why does he want me to go?"
Sirius shrugged. "I think he just wants to meet you, maybe talk a few things over. He wouldn't tell me. He knows the basics of your situation, since that's the whole reason I need to be reinstated, but not the specifics."
An old rebellion rose in him. One he hadn't realized was missing. He had been so thoroughly surrounded by people who knew his secret that he had forgotten the weight of it.
But he needed Sirius cleared, otherwise…
Otherwise what?
Would they force him back to the Dursleys?
"I'll go," he said, glad for the shadowed corner of the room he stood in. Maybe Sirius wouldn't see how poorly the idea sat with him.
"You don't have to if you don't want to."
Harry frowned. Not hidden enough, it would seem.
"It's fine. Especially if it'll help you get reinstated."
"Oh? Great!" Sirius said, standing up straight and waving for Harry to follow. "We're going to be late if we don't get going."
"Now?!"
XxX
"Gabrielle!"
Fleur's voice made her jump and curse. She spun around in front of her bedroom door, clinging to her schoolwork. She had just wanted privacy to work, away from their mother. Persistent, thinly veiled suggestions of more 'talks' had set her blood to boiling and forced her back up to the privacy of her room to work. Or the near privacy, apparently.
Had it really taken so little time for her to get used to Fleur being gone that it would be a surprise to hear her voice?
She plastered on the same placating smile she had used on their mother and waited for her sister to finish climbing the stairs.
"I was just going to do some homework," she said once Fleur had stopped in front of her, hands on her hips. The resemblance to their mother was incredible when she did that.
"That is a poor excuse for a smile," Fleur said instead, pointing to the corner of her eye with one hand. "It's more about the eyes than the mouth. If you can smile with your eyes then you've already done most of the work."
Gabrielle let the smile fall to reveal the irritation that was brewing inside. Was it lectures on masquerading now? Had their mother recruited Fleur to do what she could not?
She stuffed away the anger that flared in powerful bursts, as she'd had to do so often of late. She clenched her teeth, ignoring the crinkling of paper beneath her fingers.
"I don't-"
"Spill it."
Her breath caught as she glared up at her older sister. Her muscles were taut and screaming, as though she were about to pounce on her sister. Furious tears muddled her vision which only spiked the boiling anger inside.
Sharp breaths from her mouth dried her tongue.
A furious shudder rolled across her skin.
Acrid smoke drifted up and into her nostrils while another shudder ran needles through every pore.
"No-" she muttered through gritted teeth, frantically pushing away the wave of change even as it enveloped her.
Cool hands rested on her shoulders and pushed her through her bedroom door. It barely registered as sharp fiery pain lanced across her body.
"Slow deep breaths," Fleur's gentle voice called through the haze. "Fast breathing fuels the fire, which accelerates the transformation."
She dimly registered Fleur casting spells at the walls of the room.
The breaths burst from her chest of their own accord and her fists clenched, sending the smoldering ashen remnants of her schoolwork to the floor. Tears on her cheeks turned to steam and she felt an eruption of molten pain across her skin, resonating with a piercing call in her mind.
"It's okay," Fleur whispered, following her as she fell to her knees, a cool hand tight on her shoulder. "The feathers hurt, but it will be over soon. Prepare yourself for the wings. They will be the most painful."
A scream tore through the air.
The back of Gabrielle's shirt shredded as two scaly wings burst forth. A wave of heat followed, setting protection charms across the room blazing with light.
In a final bout of pain and heat, her nose and mouth hardened and extended into a hooked beak set below two glowing pale blue eyes.
A taloned hand grabbed onto Fleur's wrist, removing it from Gabrielle's shoulder with crushing force.
"Be careful," Fleur whispered, eyes squinted with pain. "You are far stronger than normal."
" I can tell ." She let go of Fleur's arm and inspected the talon, flexing thick, ferocious fingers. She concentrated and small blue sparks winked into fitful existence before extinguishing.
"No!" Fleur shouted, her hand shooting out to push Gabrielle's arm down. "Surely Maman told you. The blue fire is much too dangerous to summon indoors."
Gabrielle nodded her feathered head, the weight of her beak making it jerk awkwardly.
" I forgot. I don't like this. I want to change back."
Fleur nodded and stood, helping her to her feet. She caught Gabrielle with a cool arm as she stumbled backward. Her wings stretched out in reflex, brushing against her desk and knocking a small stack of books to the floor.
"Your body knows how to balance. Let it."
Gabrielle nodded again, her wings folding tight against her back.
"It will be easier to change back than it was to try and fight it. All you have to do is subdue your fire. It will be nearly spent anyway, after such a violent transformation."
Gabrielle forced deep breaths and focused inward, touching the fire she had tried so hard to ignore. It was indeed weak, a paltry candle against the bonfire it had been moments before.
The feathers weren't nearly as painful as they shrank and folded back into her skin, which was a fair bit paler than when she began. The top of her beak split with a sickening crack, shrinking back into her nose and lips. Her wings wilted, growing smaller and faded until they vanished into her back.
"That was…unpleasant," she croaked, holding the front of her shirt. Without the friction of so many feathers, its shredded remains threatened to fall to the floor.
"It is," Fleur said, squeezing her arm with a warm hand. "Get changed. I'll wait outside for you."
XxX
Harry tried not to fidget in his chair. Phillip Jacobson was, as Sirius had warned and Harry had learned, almost too cordial. His smile had been as broad and as inviting as his bright office. He'd offered seats with gracious gestures and asked how their day had been. Through it all, Harry couldn't quite tell what the man was thinking.
It made him nervous.
"Thank you for coming today, Mr. Potter," the man said, smiling across his desk at Harry.
"Harry is fine, Sir."
Jacobson nodded his understanding and turned to address Sirius. "How was your holiday? I remember you saying you were going to visit some friends?"
Sirius nodded. "It was a lot of fun. The Delacours are very welcoming people."
"That's great to hear," Jacobson said with a quick smile. "My partner and I went away for the holidays. We went to Berlin to visit his family. They celebrate a bit more…excitably, than I'm used to, but it was fun all the same."
Sirius grinned. "The Delacours are pretty into the season as well which made it really nice. It felt like a proper Christmas."
"Do you think you'll be doing it again next year?" Jacobson asked, his gaze drifting between Sirius and Harry.
"I certainly wouldn't mind," Sirius answered with a shrug.
"What about you, Harry? Did you enjoy your holiday?"
"Yes, Sir."
Jacobson sat back in his chair and smiled a friendly smile. "I'm not here to interrogate you. I wanted to meet you since you come up in our discussions frequently, for obvious reasons. Feel free to tell me as much or as little as you'd like. If you need to kick Sirius out of the room, we can do that too."
"Yes, Sir," he said. "I understand."
The hour took far longer than was necessary to pass, with the only moments of interest being when Harry picked out a sudden pivot in topic when Sirius and Jacobson touched on what he could only assume to be topics of private significance.
At the end of the grueling hour, Harry waved his goodbyes and followed Sirius into the sterile hallways up the upper floors of St. Mungo's.
"What'd you think?" Sirius asked once they had reached the stairwell at the end of the hall.
"He was nice."
Sirius let out a short laugh. "Weirdly nice, right? It takes some getting used to."
Harry went quiet as they descended another flight of stairs, waiting for the inevitable follow up question. When it didn't come, he opted to put himself out of his misery.
"Am I going to have to meet with him too?"
"You can if you want," Sirius said, pushing open the door that led out to the apparition zones. "I think he really did just want to meet you. Probably to make sure you were still alive and all that. Gotta make sure I can take care of you properly."
Harry didn't answer, though he felt vindicated in his belief that there had been more to the man's big smiles than simple friendliness.
"Does he think you'll make it by the time I'm done with school?"
Sirius licked his lips as they stepped across the lines denoting safe disapparation. "He says we're on track. There are still a few things to work on but we'll get 'em figured out. Don't you worry." He held out an arm for Harry to grab. "Ready?"
Harry nodded and grabbed hold, clenching his teeth as he was pulled into the cold oppressive blackness of apparition.
XxX
Gabrielle tugged her second favorite lounging shirt over her head, tossing the ragged remains of her first on her bed with a sigh. She put her hands behind her neck and pulled her hair free of the shirt. Stupid special hair. A haircut would be nice.
Something inside rebelled against the idea.
It was hardly fair that their mother could get a haircut without any trouble.
She shook her head in an attempt to clear her thoughts. It was hard to focus when she was so tired…and hungry. Her stomach grumbled at her attention.
Maybe Fleur wouldn't mind talking in the kitchen…
She pulled open her bedroom door to find Fleur leaning against her old bedroom door.
"Hungry?"
Gabrielle nodded and led her sister down to the kitchen. She sat in one of the rarely used stools at the tall island, watching Fleur as she pulled open the refrigerator door.
"I think we have some Christmas ham left," Fleur said, her top half obscured by the door.
"Gross. That's a week old."
"Still looks good," Fleur said, then paused. "Tastes fine," she said, voice muffled.
"I guess that's okay," Gabrielle said, placating her stomach's impatient complaint.
She ate the food her sister brought her with less propriety than usual, but she couldn't help herself.
Fleur leaned against the countertop, readjusting herself a few times before opting to sit on the stool next to her. They sat in awkward silence for a moment before Fleur cleared her throat, dropping Gabrielle's heart into her still-too-empty stomach. They didn't need to talk about it.
"That was your first time, I take it?" Fleur's calm tone was infuriatingly similar to their mothers when she was trying to make something seem like it wasn't a big deal.
"I've had feathers…sprout, before," she mumbled, taking a large bite of ham. "But this was the first time."
"And how are you feeling?"
Gabrielle swallowed the food and stared down at her plate, frowning. "I don't really want to talk about it."
Silence fell between them for a moment before Fleur shrugged and stole a piece of ham from her plate.
"If that's what you want."
Gabrielle nodded, but then a question wandered up to the surface of her thoughts. "But…why did you silence my room?"
"I didn't think you would want Maman sprinting upstairs and fawning all over you."
Gabrielle nodded, returning her attention back to her impromptu meal.
"Well," Fleur said, sliding from her seat, "if you do ever want to talk, you can always floo over to my place any time. You're always welcome."
Gabrielle brightened, then sagged. "I don't want to get in the way of your time with Harry."
Fleur smiled lightly. "I do enjoy spending time with him but I like spending time with you too. Just because he and I are together doesn't mean I have to spend every minute with him."
"You spend every minute talking about him."
"Rude! I do not."
Gabrielle couldn't stifle her giggle, prompting a sigh from Fleur.
"Anyway. I won't tell Maman what happened, but you should," she said.
"She's just going to make everything awkward."
"Probably," Fleur agreed, her ears turning a faint pink. "But she'll make it far more awkward if you don't bring it up. You know how she is. She'll start dropping obvious hints and asking questions until you crack."
"That's oddly specific."
"You're welcome."
Gabrielle smiled as she ate the last piece of ham. She really did feel better.
"Thank you," she said, turning to look at her sister. "That would have been scary without you. Or…scarier, anyway."
Fleur smiled and wrapped her in a hug, despite her feeble protests.
"It's one of the things I'm here for."
Gabrielle nodded against Fleur's chest, stopped her struggles, and wrapped her arms around Fleur's middle.
"Thank you."