Chapter 42: Swimming Summer Fun

Table of Contents

"Did you know?!"

"Andromeda! You're out of line!"

"I could not care less!"

The mercurial descent into Veritaserum left Sirius and Andy's conversation muddled and ephemeral in her senses. The living room of Grimmauld Place became calm, peaceful.

So…right.

While not an experience she enjoyed, she knew what to expect. No amount of occlumency training or preparation could dull the pervasive mist that clouded her thoughts, rendering them oddly clear, if somewhat outside her control.

"Perhaps you should care," she said, focusing on her sister with effort.

The outrage burned hot in her chest, pulsing violent adrenaline through her veins.

It just felt as though it were someone else that wanted to hex Andromeda.

"Well?" Andromeda spat, looming over the couch, cloaked in her indignant outrage.

"You'll have to ask again," she said. "It's only just now taken hold."

"You don't have to answer, Cissy," Sirius said, placing a hand on Andromeda's shoulder. "It wasn't on the list."

Andromeda whirled to face Sirius, fuming.

"How could it have been!? It happened last night!"

"I have to answer."

Her words caught Sirius up short and even seemed to stagger Andy's formidable temper.

They were true, after all. True as she saw it, anyway.

"Will either of you ever trust me if I choose to avoid the question?"

Their silence was proof enough. She didn't need a potion to determine their truthfulness.

"So ask."

"Did you know about the attack on the Weasleys?"

Andromeda's voice was not as harsh as it'd been before, but the cruel distrust still laced through each syllable.

"I did not."

She'd expected a deluge of further questions. She'd expected to have to answer that same question a hundred different times.

She hadn't expected Andromeda to collapse next to her on the couch and let out a long, exhausted sigh.

"That's good," Andy said, her voice tired and weak. "I'm glad to hear it. Sirius?"

Sirius nodded and lifted the parchment he'd had clutched in his hands, focusing similarly relieved eyes on the words scrawled across the page.

Beyond the first predictable addition, the rest were as they had agreed upon. Simple questions regarding her involvement in the first war, more that probed at her motivations for reaching out, all of which surrounded one simple answer.

Her family.

By the time the potion began to loosen its grip and her less serene feelings could come rushing back, she found them all but vanished. Andy sat next to her, blinking misty eyes and staring off into the distance as though she weren't combating tears. Sirius, for all his openness, just watched them with something akin to regret floating behind his eyes.

"But why all the…" Andy tried after a long silence, "vagueries and subtlety? Couldn't you have outright said, 'I want to be a family again'?"

"Would you have believed me?"

"I suppose not."

"Besides, though I am not often in the Dark Lord's presence, he does check on me from time to time to ensure I am not making any unexpected plans."

Sirius let out a snort.

"Unexpected plans?"

"He would be doubly suspicious were I to appear a perfect host. My reticence to allow them into our home was no secret. Lucius took great care in ensuring that never came back to haunt us. But…he's not here anymore."

"But what are you going to do now?" Sirius asked. "Won't he know what you've done?"

Narcissa stifled the urge to laugh.

"How? By pulling it from my mind? If he goes tearing through my occlumency like that, then he's already decided to kill me."

"Why hasn't he?" Andromeda asked, turning her head to focus on her. "You've made it clear you only do the minimum of what he asks of you."

"Most likely because they would have to find someone else to fund their insanity. Draco isn't of age, and won't be for quite some time. It would be detrimental to lose access to money and supplies at this stage. I expect that's part of why he tricked Draco into returning home."

"Yes…" Sirius grumbled. "You're definitely in a bit of a bind."

She couldn't help the wry smile that touched her lips.

"Now do you see why I was so interested in reconnecting? The rest of my life is in shambles."

"No doubt about that," Sirius said, running a hand through his hair and tossing his parchment onto a nearby table. "So, what are we going to do about it?"

Narcissa darted a questioning glance over to Andromeda, who simply stared back.

"Do…about it?"

Sirius frowned, staring down at her as though she'd just spoken gibberish instead of a legitimate question.

"Well, we're not going to leave you there," he said. "Stuck with Voldemort and Bellatrix? That's a disaster waiting to happen."

Narcissa winced, though she couldn't deny the truth of it. Whatever shade had stumbled from Azkaban, glorying in her master's every motion, it was no longer the Bellatrix she knew.

She swallowed.

How she wished that were the case.

Lucidity came infrequently, the abject horrors of Azkaban widening cracks in a mind that had once been so strong.

But those moments were there.

When the laughter and manic energy slowed and fiercely sharp intelligence shone out of her dark eyes. The genuine excitement Bella had shown in her first lucid moment, to her, the moment when long-lost sisters had finally been reunited, had shattered Narcissa's heart. Whatever passed for her sister had been in her home for weeks before she'd finally gotten to see the real thing.

"Cissy?"

Andromeda's voice was soft, as gentle as the hand that rested on her shoulder.

Dark eyes, so similar to their sister's, now shone with naked concern, tentative hope and care showing through the rubble that had been the wall mortared by anger and resentment. Andromeda, the peacemaker and caretaker, and when riled, the taskmistress, squeezed her shoulder and smiled a small, genuine smile that Narcissa hadn't seen in decades.

It was her undoing.

XxX

The days leading up to Gabrielle's birthday were the worst possible mix of anticipation and utter dread. Any other time, Harry would have been counting down the minutes until he could go back to France and Delacour Manor, but each day that passed brought another that could yet again bring the war back into the forefront of his thoughts, leaving him agitated and anxious.

When Sirius had sat him down to talk the day before, he'd very nearly bolted before a single word could fall from Sirius's lips. All he could think of was the night he'd found out the Dursleys were leaving.

In the end, he'd wished he had.

The attack on the Burrow had been light, according to Sirius. A test, more than an outright attack. The improved defenses of the humble home had proved up to the task, as had Tonks, who'd managed to incapacitate one of the Death Eaters before they'd managed to flee. The DMLE had taken them in for questioning, though there wasn't much information they were likely to get. Sirius had doubted the man they captured, some barely capable brute he'd known from his Hogwarts years, was a member of Voldemort's elite, and unlikely to know his name, let alone any plans.

It seemed Dumbledore's entrance into the war at the beginning had made them skittish, and they were testing, when before they attacked with reckless abandon.

What didn't go unnoticed by Harry, was that the Burrow was neither a strategic, nor valuable target for the Death Eaters. A sentiment with which Sirius, unfortunately, agreed with. They'd been thwarted in their attempt to grab him at the Ministry, but the prophecy meant they weren't done trying. Like a Cruciatus in a night-blackened graveyard, examples worked far better than direct attacks.

Thus, Harry was relegated to what he considered the absolute worst role imaginable in a war. He was a spectator to be protected. While he certainly didn't want to relive the horrors of the Ministry attack, simply sitting by while other people did the fighting, and eventually the dying, in attacks that were meant to send a message to him made him ill.

So Harry spent the last days leading up to a blessed break in the monotony in a volatile mix of crushing, powerless depression, and excitement for what he'd been told would be a simple swimming party. He'd known not many people could attend, which suited him more than fine. For all he wanted to enjoy a nice day in the warm waters of their lake, he wasn't sure he wanted quite so many people gawking at how spindly the Boy-Who-Lived was.

It was that thought that flashed through his mind the morning of Gabrielle's birthday as he tugged on dark red swim shorts and laced the tie at the front. He had thought it might be a bit funny to wear the color that had flustered Fleur so badly every time he asked after it when it showed in her ribbon, but now all he could see was that it contrasted starkly with his skin that it made his knobby legs their own light source in his dim room.

Maybe nobody would notice if he just went swimming in his trousers.

The image of it left him shaking his head and dismissing the idea as one of his dumbest. He doubted Fleur would ever let him live it down.

Neither would…

What…what would Fleur be wearing? The same one-piece she had worn for the Second Task?

He joined Sirius in the living room in a daze, almost forgetting to send Hedwig off with the letter informing Eeylops that they were to send Gabrielle's owl off to arrive in time for the party. Ron and Hermione were waiting there as well, Ron wearing a faded blue set of swim shorts, while Hermione wore regular summer clothes with a bag slung over her shoulder. He shook himself from his daydreams and greeted his friends, taking note of Ron's subdued reply. It seemed like he wasn't the only one who could use a break.

They were greeted on the other side of the floo by the most brilliant smile Harry had ever seen. Nearly radiating excitement and barely-controlled energy, Gabrielle all but shoved them into the small, personal dining room where Apolline had laid out a light, midday meal. Sirius grabbed a small sandwich and excused himself, citing a desperate need for a walk in the summer sun.

"I am glad you are 'ere," Gabrielle said, her English less accented than Harry remembered. "Maman would not let me go swimming until the guests arrived."

"Because it is polite to greet the people who are coming to see you," Apolline admonished, though her tone was light. "I'm glad you all could come."

"Thanks for inviting us," Hermione said, grabbing a piece of fruit from the table. "I couldn't tell you the last time I went to a proper birthday party."

"We put a lot of stock in them in this household. I do hope you'll enjoy yourself. Our home is yours for as long as you are here."

She hesitated a moment when she finished speaking, then crooked a finger at Ron and led him off into the kitchen, leaving a bewildered Harry and Hermione behind. Gabrielle, on the other hand, just rolled her eyes.

"Fleur is still getting ready," she said, grinning over at Harry before turning her attention to Hermione. "Are you not swimming? Those do not look like swimming clothes."

Hermione leapt a little and clutched her bag to her side.

"No. Or rather, no they're not. Yes, I'm swimming." She blew out a breath. "I need to get changed. Not all of us are so fortunate that our swimsuits look like shorts."

Gabrielle shrugged and snagged a piece of cheese.

"I am wearing mine under my clothes. I wanted to be ready when everybody got here." She turned and pointed out the door towards the stairs. "You can use 'Arry's room. Mine is a mess."

Hermione's eyes widened a fraction but she nodded and disappeared up the stairs, leaving Harry and Gabrielle alone in the dining room.

"Fleur is very nervous," she said the moment Hermione was out of earshot. "She 'as been driving me crazy for days now."

Harry smiled, filing the tidbit away for later. Presuming he remembered how to talk after seeing her.

"You're not?" he asked instead.

She shrugged again and popped the cheese into her mouth.

"I was able to have a small party last year. My abilities were not strong enough back then to be an issue, even around my birthday. It is just a different group of people this time." She paused and her gaze wandered to the kitchen where Ron and Apolline were still sequestered. "I am surprised 'e is not affected at all. I can sense 'im far more clearly than any time before."

She turned to look again at Harry.

"Still nothing from you."

It was Harry's turn to shrug. He'd spent plenty of time over the past year trying to determine the sudden shift in Fleur's ability to reach him, and he had his guesses, but none of them were ones he felt like sharing.

He was saved having to reply by the return of Ron and Apolline, the former of which was looking decidedly more animated. Not long after, both Hermione and Fleur joined them, both wearing normal summer clothes, much to Harry's mix of disappointment and relief. He could think of little else than what Fleur would be wearing to swim, but he didn't fancy turning into a gibbering idiot in front of his girlfriend's mother.

"Are we ready?" Fleur asked after sizing up the small group. "Where is Sirius?"

"Out for a walk," Apolline said. "You go on ahead."

With that, they made their way out into the midday sun. Its warmth was a welcome experience, especially after long days in Grimmauld Place. It heated Harry's neck and arms while his hand was warmed by the touch of Fleur's skin. They followed Gabrielle down the stone path towards the lake, while she clearly did her best not to sprint down to the water. Hermione walked next to Fleur, her head swiveling to take in the idyllic French countryside.

Ron too looked impressed, blowing out a breath when they crested the last hill that brought the lake into view.

"I see what you mean," he said under his breath. "Nice place."

Gabrielle lost her internal battle when they turned off the larger path onto the small dirt trail that led down the pier. They had made it only halfway when a shout of delight rang through the air, followed by a splash as Gabrielle vanished beneath the water.

Fleur's grip on his hand tightened to almost unbearable levels as she stared down at the vanishing ripples. She sped up, her long legs carrying them far faster towards the pier.

A fainter splash and a gasp of air caused her step to falter and her grip to relax. Gabrielle swiped her hands across her face to push stray hairs back in place and beckoned them forward.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked, squeezing her hand to gain her attention.

She nodded, a chagrined wince crossing her features. If only she'd been wearing her ribbon, he'd have been able to check its color, but her long, silken hair flowed loose and free behind her.

"I am just worrying over nothing," she said under her breath as they stepped onto the pier. "She and I swam together a few days ago and I was an absolute nightmare. She made me promise I would not be the same way today."

The boards beneath their feet vibrated with Hermione and Ron's footsteps, the pair joining them on the end of the dock.

"I've got the towels," Hermione said, patting the bag she still had slung over her shoulder.

"Get in already!" Gabrielle all but whined, paddling up to where they dawdled. "You cannot even say that the water is too cold. You 'ave no excuses."

Interest came to life in Hermione's eyes and Harry could see her mind churning away. He wouldn't put it past her to spend the whole time skimming across the bottom of the lake looking for clues as to the heating mechanism.

"You can put your wands in here," she said, pulling hers from her pocket and sliding it into the bag. She glanced down to Ron and Harry's shorts and hesitated. "Though I suppose the two of you have pockets. That hardly seems fair."

"I 'ave mine with me,'' Gabrielle put in, fishing around below the waterline before producing her wand and holding it aloft. She cast a significant glance over to Fleur before stuffing it away.

"I should put mine away as well," Fleur said, pulling her yew wand from the pocket of her trousers and sticking it in the bag alongside Hermione's.

"It is for the best," Gabrielle said, pushing off one of the pier supports with her feet and backstroking away with long sweeps of her arms. "There is no room in Fleur's suit to stick it."

Fleur fumed at her sister, her blush spreading all the way to the tips of her ears, which only earned her a delighted laugh from the younger girl. Harry busied himself with taking off his shoes, doing his best to hide his face from view. Ron, with an apparently similar thought, tangled himself in his shirt pulling it over his head.

"Honestly," Hermione murmured, dropping her bag to the ground and slipping out of her shoes.

Though there was little Harry wanted to do more than stand as still as a statue and watch his girlfriend dress down to her swimsuit, the idea of doing so as openly as that, in front of his friends and her sister, made him decidedly uncomfortable. In record time, he had divested himself of his shoes and shirt and tucked his glasses into Hermione's bag.

He leapt into the water, followed a moment later by Ron, who cackled as his large splash caught Harry square in the face.

Harry ducked under the water to wet his hair and pushed off the soft ground to rise back to the surface. He swiped the water from his eyes just in time to look up at the pier just a few feet away.

Though the image was indistinct for his lack of glasses, the swaths of pale skin that radiated with the summer sun caught his attention and held it in a firm, undeniable grip. Her suit hadn't been the skimpy affair he had privately imagined, using memories from magazines he'd found while cleaning Dudley's room. Nor was it the simple one-piece she'd worn for the Second Task.

Both top and bottom were a mild maroon, a color only a few shades darker than the dress that had captivated him so easily. Thick straps crossed across her chest, covering most of what a traditional suit would leave bare before disappearing over her shoulders. Where he had grown used to loose clothes hiding her body, or her occasional fancy dress showing them off, he had never before seen the pure and enticing curve of her waist and the flat skin of her stomach, and where he had only gotten a glimpse of her leg before, now both stood stark and visible.

Belatedly, he remembered he needed to kick to stay afloat.

"Blimey," Ron muttered.

"Close your mouths," Hermione snapped, her form even more indistinct for her distance from him.

Rather than a colored suit, her one-piece was black and he could tell she had tied her hair up loose behind her head.

Fleur leaned over to say something to Hermione, who slowly shook her head.

"Ron, close your mouth," she amended, the unwitting smile evident in her voice.

"Gross," Gabrielle said, swimming up behind Harry and Ron. "Quit showing off. Get in!"

Fleur slipped into the water, the anxious expression that sat heavy on her features grew more distinct the closer she got to him. Delicate fingers brushed the bare skin of his side which made him twitch before they found his wrist beneath the water and she gave him a tug.

"I want to show you something," she said, a purposeful smile peeking through her anxiety.

Ron smiled and nodded his quiet understanding, then glanced over to where Hermione was sliding into the water.

"Reckon Hermione could use a good dunking or two."

"I will 'elp," said Gabrielle, already swimming towards where Hermione was peering at them through slitted eyes.

Harry turned and followed Fleur, glimpses of her backside and legs as she propelled herself through the water enough to make him asphyxiate almost as much water as he swam through.

She led him to a bank about halfway down the northern side, around a partial bend so the laughing curses of the horseplay were still audible, if not visible. Where the rest of the bank tapered down into the water at a subtle incline, the section she brought him to looked as though a part of the ground had just been carved away, leaving tendrils of thick wooden roots reaching from towering trees down into the water.

Fleur grabbed onto one of the roots and used it as leverage to swing herself around into a small space beneath the earth and behind the entrenched trees that reached thick fingers down into the water. Oceanic-blue eyes peered at him through the thick pseudo wall and he swam around to join her.

"This was my favorite spot when I was little," she said, swimming backwards to allow him to move further inside the secluded space.

The lap of the water rang loud in his ears alongside her voice, the muffled shouts of his friends all but vanishing.

It wasn't hard to appreciate the feeling of seclusion; a private little space outside that was all your own.

"It was like my own little playhouse," she said, running a hand across the smooth earthen wall. "Somewhere I could come to get out of the sun when I did not want to get out of the water. I frightened Maman badly one time when I would not come out."

A frown pulled at the corners of her lips and he tried to shift into a lighter topic.

"It's hard to imagine you wanting to be out of the sun. I'm surprised you're not shivering from being in the shade."

She let out a harrumph of mock indignation, though her eyes sparkled with mirth.

"The water keeps me plenty warm," she said, flicking a few droplets onto his face with her fingers. "And little Veela are very similar to normal children. The internal fire does not manifest until close to puberty."

She winced.

"Papa still jokes about finding little charred handprints on everything."

Harry couldn't help the laugh that spilled out as he imagined a short little Fleur wandering around, staring in wonder as wispy smoke rose from wherever she placed her hand.

"You laugh," she said, a smile of her own creeping onto her face, "but it is a very real problem. I almost started a forest fire."

His laughter stuttered to a halt as he imagined their clearing burned away by rampaging fires.

"A good thing you didn't," he said after a moment.

"We tend to learn such a basic level of control rather quickly. Gabrielle managed it even faster than I did."

He dug his feet into the soft lakebed, letting the loose soil push through his toes and envelope him up to his ankles while he searched for something to say.

"I wouldn't have thought there'd be so much to it," he said after a moment's thought. "I didn't even know what Veela were until the World Cup."

A single eyebrow quirked and teasing was afoot.

"I do recall your eyes wandering the top box a few times," she said with a smile. "Was I the first you had ever seen?"

He nodded and peered through the root wall out to the lake in an attempt to gather his thoughts. The faint movement of the water lapping against her collarbones was doing him no favors.

Mentally, anyway.

A retort finally managed to form in his mind and he turned back to her with a grin.

"You noticed me watching?"

He was rewarded with a flush of pink that traveled distractingly down her neck.

"Not like…I mean yes," she fumbled out, narrowing her eyes at him. "When an entire group of people is looking in one direction, it stands out when one person is staring at you instead."

He wanted to bury his face beneath the water. Surely he hadn't been quite so obvious.

He took in a breath instead and reached deep inside for the one thing he knew she would have no defense against.

"Well, you were the most beautiful person I had ever seen."

Brutal honesty.

The noise she made was somewhere between a giggle and a strangled groan as her face came near to glowing in the dim light. Rather than a further retort, she propelled herself forward and snaked her hands over his shoulders.

His body had grown used to the warm water of the lake but the heat of her skin against his made it an ice-bath by comparison.

Every last line and curve of her face came into focus as she drew closer, a lip drawn through her teeth and her tempestuous eyes roaming his face, his neck, his chest.

She lingered there a moment before her gaze eventually settled on his. Hot fingers slid across the back of his head and her heavy breaths lifted the top of her chest from the water.

Any moment, she would pull him forward, capture his lips with hers.

But she didn't.

His blood thundered through his arms as they floated at his sides, fingers twitching in answer to his plight. So easy to reach a hand around the silken fire of her waist and pull her against him, or to close the distance between them and sink into her embrace.

Her gaze broke from his and traveled a stuttering path downward, yet she still made no move.

She didn't, so he did.

Rather than place his hands on her shoulders to match hers, he dipped them below the water and found her waist, the tips of his fingers brushing the fabric of her swimsuit bottom. She sucked in a breath when his hands splayed across her lower back and pulled her forward, her eyes going from dark to storm-filled as their bodies collided beneath the water.

The moment they touched she crushed her lips to his, pulling him tighter against her body. Sensation rolled through him with electric speed, bursting in his mind with a detonation of blissful feeling.

Her hands, one in his hair and one on his back, pressing him against her.

Her legs, brushing his as her frantic motions jostled them, threatening to submerge them both beneath the water.

Her chest, pressed against his and heaving with every tiny gasp of air.

Her tongue against his lip, an invitation he greedily accepted.

The world around him slipped away as she consumed his senses.

He was panting when they parted for the last time, swimsuits and minds in erratic disarray. Spots and whirling images filling in his vision as he collected his thoughts, his system working to right itself after such a pleasant overload.

"Um…" he managed into the quiet that followed, blinking at the image of his girlfriend, flushed and breathing hard while fixing her swimsuit, the color traveling down her neck and below the waterline.

She laughed, though it was more a breathy catch that sent violent, dangerous shivers up his spine. His fingers twitched beneath the water for more.

"I would love to continue," she murmured, her eyes dropping back down to his lips. "But it is not my birthday, it is Gabrielle's. We should not be absent for too long."

His conscience pulled at him to agree, while the rest of his body stood immobile, rooting him in place as he tried to catch his breath. Fleur waited a moment for a reply, then a slow smile drew across her lips and she tilted her head to the side, strands of loose hair floating in the water.

"Perhaps I should give you a moment to collect yourself. Your...sense is intense."

He nodded, then froze as she moved forward, slipping by him and out of their secluded place beneath the trees. The brush of her skin against his as she passed, pressed far harder than necessary, left blazing trails that refused to dissipate even once she had vanished back out into the sun.

He was left, floating in warm water that cooled as heat flooded his thoughts and veins.

His lips stung faintly, throbbing with the memory of teeth and pressure.

However it was he managed not to drown while being lost in the feel of her body against his, he'd never know.

At least he'd have died happy.

With more willpower than he would have thought he possessed, he dragged himself from his reminiscing and paddled back to his friends, hoping his dopey grin wouldn't give them away.

XxX

"Can I help?"

Apolline stopped mid-chop, her attention focusing on Harry, who stood in the doorway to the kitchen. A smile stole across her face and she stepped to the side, gesturing for him to join her.

"Your help is welcome," she said, handing over the knife and turning to the stove. "I was just finishing up the mise en place. If you'll work on that, I will get the meat ready."

He nodded and began dicing, his hand curled across the top of the onion.

"Did you have a good time?" she asked, her voice muffled as she dug around in the fridge.

It took a herculean effort to keep his knife steady as his thoughts wandered back to breath-stealing kisses and Fleur's pulse against his skin, but he somehow managed it before replying.

"It was a lot of fun. It's nice to swim in something so warm."

"Isn't it though?" Apolline said, setting a roast on the table. "I don't run quite as hot as the girls anymore, so it's quite pleasant for me when I go out there."

He brushed the onion into a waiting bowl and pulled over a few stalks of celery.

"Why didn't you come?"

A light laugh met his question as she placed a pot on the stove and lit it with a tap of her wand.

"The last thing a fourteen-year-old girl wants is for her mother to try to mingle in her party."

Harry couldn't think of an answer that didn't inadvertently agree, so he kept quiet, letting the slice of the knife through celery fill the room. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her turn to stare at him, though she didn't say anything.

He had brushed the celery into another bowl and started on the carrots before she finally spoke, putting him out of his mild misery.

"I want to thank you," she said.

The sudden turn in conversation made him jump, the knife almost coming up to graze his knuckle. He set it down carefully and turned to look at her to find an odd mix of appreciativeness and pain mixing in her eyes.

He doubted she meant the mise en place.

"Erm…what for, Mrs. Delacour?"

A twitch of a frown crossed her lips, but it was swiftly turned into a sad smile.

"For being so good for Fleur," she said after a moment. "She had…withdrawn, as she grew older. Something which I am afraid is my fault."

Instinctively, Harry shook his head, which earned him another sad smile.

"As a new mother, I was…harsh. And afraid. My own mother had been in love with our history, and it all felt so…alien to me. I felt as though I didn't belong with the other girls my age because of the way my mother acted, nor did I belong in the fairytales I was told."

Her smile turned wan and a faint smattering of pink suffused her pale cheeks.

"The first time I changed, she tried to throw me a party and invited all my friends. I was mortified…and those girls stopped talking to me."

Harry stood still, his hands dangling awkwardly at his sides.

Apolline shook herself free of the memories and focused on him again.

"All that to say, Fleur has begun looking into our past, into our history, but of her own accord. You should have seen her when she got back from that party after talking with that wonderful girl Mariika…"

She paused, her eyes falling to the table.

"Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you. I have no doubt that it is your influence that has helped her to understand herself and her relationship with what we are. It is something I never managed to give her, and you have my gratitude."

Before Harry had a chance to reply, her melancholy expression burst to life and she grinned over his shoulder.

"While I agree," Sebastian's voice said from behind him, making him jump. "You are far too hard on yourself, Ma Chérie."

The older man stepped around Harry and over to his wife, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and planting a kiss on top of her head.

"You have to remember what my mother said," he continued. "Nobody knows what they're doing the first time."

Harry watched, intruding upon the private moment between Fleur's parents, unable to stop staring as Sebastian whispered quiet epithets in French that he couldn't quite understand. Whatever they were, they made Apolline relax into him before refocusing on Harry.

"Then allow me to say, Harry," she said after some internal deliberation. "We are very glad you've come into our life."

Cooking the rest of dinner was a battle against the knot in his throat, which kept the normally meditative state he so often found in the kitchen elusive. He settled on sneaking glances at Sebastian as he fetched things for his wife, or alternatively got in her way, all the while with a simple smile lifting his stubble-filled cheeks.

Harry had finally settled by the time they finished, the awkward pleasure at her words having turned reflective as he watched the couple.

Their efforts in the kitchen were met by not-insubstantial compliments as they served the food, the formal dining room table having been magically lengthened to accommodate Hermione and Ron.

The blissful sound of silverware against plates filled the room, appreciation for the food dulling conversation for a time while everyone enjoyed what he had made. Fleur sat on his right, her foot occasionally swinging over to tap his, even while she focused on the meal.

It was after dinner when Eeylops finally sent along Harry's gift to Gabrielle. The dusty grey owl soared through a window Sebastian had opened earlier at Harry's request and settled on the arm of Gabrielle's chair, staring intently up at her.

She frowned down at the owl, checking its legs for letters before scritching it atop its head while turning her confused gaze on the other people at the table.

All of whom turned to look at Harry.

"Oh. Er...Happy Birthday."

It was a few heartbeats before his words registered.

Gabrielle let out a squeak of surprise that was mirrored by her owl and leapt out of her chair to wrap him in a warm hug.

"Thank you," she murmured into his shoulder before pulling. "I was so jealous of 'Edwig!"

He laughed, casting a surreptitious glance over to the new owl to see if it was at all offended.

"I'm sure she'd love to hear that."

"I'm having a pamphlet delivered in the next few days," Apolline said, smiling as Gabrielle returned to her seat and ran tentative fingers through the owl's plumage. "You'll need a cage and food to take care of her."

Gabrielle looked over at Harry in surprise.

"Does 'Edwig not fly free almost all the time?" she asked.

"Hedwig is...a particular bird. She doesn't like the cage much and gets bitey if I keep her in it for too long. Yours might like it, who knows."

" We'll figure out what you like ," she cooed into the owl's head. " Won't we ?"

"Or it might be a dumb one like Pig and fly into all your windows," Ron added, earning him a light swat from Hermione.

"Pig?" Gabrielle echoed, her face scrunching up. "A...swine?"

"Pigwidgeon," Hermione corrected before Ron could make the joke that was brewing behind his smile. "Ron's lovely but eccentric owl. He tries his best, you know."

Sirius let out a laugh and set his drink on the table with a clink.

"Regulus had this owl one time when he was a teenager. A beautiful bird. Pitch black and smart as can be."

He paused, though Harry suspected it was more for dramatic effect than necessity.

"It was also the sulkiest damn owl you ever met. Regulus named it Ebony, which he thought was a riot cause then he could call it Ebony Black. Dunno if it was the name that made it like it was, or if it came that way, but you'd be lucky if it'd carry a letter out the window before getting bored and flying off to do whatever it wanted."

Harry listened to his godfather launch into another story about Ebony's poor performance while grabbing occasional glimpses of Gabrielle fawning over her new owl, who pushed itself up into her hand as she rubbed the top of its head.

It wasn't until after midnight that the party finally wound to a close with people strewn across the sitting room, Ron trying desperately to win just a single game of chess against Sebastian. Gabrielle had hardly been able to draw her attention from her owl, now named Lenette, and was perched in one of the large bay windows, the bird resting on her knee.

Fleur had made it a point throughout the night to spend time chatting with Hermione and playing a few games of chess with Ron, though almost like clockwork, she drifted back to Harry's side, sliding up against him on one of the couches.

Sirius snored lightly from a chair, his hands crossed across his stomach that rose and fell with his slow breaths. Apolline too, faded slowly into sleep, her head resting against Sebastian's side, his arm draped over her shoulders.

So when Fleur's head dropped against his shoulder, her silken hair brushing his cheek, he had to struggle not to glance over at Sebastian, who he was sure was smiling over at them. Instead, he followed the older man's lead and wrapped his arms around Fleur's shoulders and reveled in the warmth he bundled into his arms.