I have something I should tell you.
Well, that's guaranteed to make me nervous.
Sorry. I could draw it out if you would prefer.
Please no.
Are you sure?
Fleur.
Very well. Maman let slip that they are planning a surprise party for you on the assumption you have not had one before. After thinking about it, I thought you might not enjoy such a thing.
They'd be right. I haven't had a party at all. You're also right. Getting surprised by a whole bunch of people sounds like it wouldn't be much fun.
Oh, good. I had worried you would be upset that I spoiled the surprise.
Actually, Sirius spoiled it. He's rubbish at hiding stuff from me. I could tell something was up right away.
Well, if it helps, I do not know what the rest of their plans are, only that it will be happening at my parents' house, and it is supposed to be a surprise.
Speaking of which, have you had any more luck with your wand? I know you said you were practicing out in the clearing.
Not exactly, no. It does as I ask but I still cannot control the initial intensity well. I had thought I was getting the hang of it, but this last week feels like I have taken steps backwards. Non-verbal spells are impossible but I can manage more power than before.
Silver linings, I suppose.
You may notice a few more downed trees when you come on your birthday. A cutting charm was far wider than I had anticipated. It took down two trees and cut a big chunk out of the ground. I levitated the dirt back into place, but it is quite noticeable since the grass and mushrooms are missing in that area.
Well, at least you didn't break one of the rocks. Then you'd have to find and carry another through the woods.
I was standing in the middle of the stone circle. It would have been quite difficult to accidentally break one of them.
What about the fire? Have you been able to make it even a little blue again? Like that night?
I have tried a little. And no, I have not managed it. Where my wand is acting unusual, the fire is as predictable as ever.
Moody always said you have to feel spells. Maybe that's part of it?
I am unsure it is an avenue I should pursue if I must be feeling slightly murderous in order to manifest the special fire. Though, I would be unsurprised if that was the case, considering that thing's propensity for unbridled violence.
You weren't violent with me.
Still. I will continue to work on it. It is the one thing Dumbledore asked me to do.
Sirius says Dumbledore has been out looking for more of them. He wants to have one you can test with.
Perhaps I will feel less reticent when able to burn a piece of that man's soul.
You can still test on me. I trust you.
It will be a long while before I trust that thing inside me to do things properly. Its single-mindedness killed someone and hurt you.
You saved me, and burned my scar, but not the rest of me.
I know. In my head, I know.
You'll figure it out.
I hope so.
So. What did you get me as a birthday gift?
Not an owl. Hedwig would likely peck me to death.
She likes you. She'd at least make it quick.
A pleasant thought.
So you're not going to tell me?
Of course not.
It was worth a try.
Perhaps it is a ribbon of your very own.
I'd have to grow out my hair.
I think it would suit you, though long hair can be high maintenance.
Well, I wouldn't grow it as long as yours.
I should hope not. Extremely long hair that ties into our power is slightly higher maintenance.
Can you cut it?
I could. It just feels wrong to do so. It is not the same effect as pulling it out.
I like it, so I'm not complaining.
I should hope you do. But I must go. I promised Gabrielle I would look over owl cages with her before bed.
Have fun.
We will. Goodnight Harry.
Goodnight Fleur.
XxX
In the days leading up to his birthday, if Harry hadn't had confirmation of an upcoming surprise party before, Sirius seemed to be doing his best to ruin the surprise. Constant reminders of their completely routine trip to the Delacour's that just happened to be on the thirty-first, coupled with random, conspicuous questions about his favorite foods only served to prove Fleur's words true.
When Sirius wasn't doing a terrible job keeping such a simple secret, he was out meeting with Moody and Dumbledore, offering his limited assistance in locating another Horcrux. More than once, the Headmaster had made his way to Grimmauld Place to make use of the Black family library. Oddly, while Harry had been snooping, he discovered that most of the books Dumbledore looked into were either on genealogy or the oldest books in the library on ancient magics.
Harry supposed he should've been a bit quieter when Dumbledore noticed him peeking into the book-filled room and waved him inside.
"Sorry for snooping, Sir," he said.
It was strange how even in a house he lived in, the Headmaster managed to make it feel like he owned the entire place.
"It's quite alright," Dumbledore said, carefully closing a book whose faded letters read 'Gecynd Geþeodan Drylic'.
Harry reread the words, unsure he'd seen them right. It didn't seem to be in any language he'd ever heard.
"What are you looking for, Sir?" he asked.
Dumbledore hefted the ancient book and slid it carefully back onto the shelf with a sigh.
"Truth be told, I am looking for several things at once. I hope to uncover information about old artifacts, forgotten links between families…" he paused, casting a quick glance over to Harry, "and of course, I am looking for this 'power as old as time' that you possess."
Harry frowned, the words of the prophecy ringing through his ears. Though he hadn't heard it aloud since that day, it had burrowed its way into his thoughts, slipping out in his idle moments.
"You haven't found anything yet?"
"Oh, nothing concrete, but such is that nature of prophecy. We are left to guess at the implications. I do have some ideas, however."
"You do?"
He tried his best not to be annoyed that Dumbledore hadn't seen fit to share these theories with the subject of said prophecy.
"I will share them with you if you would like, but I doubt they will bring you any satisfaction."
Harry nodded and allowed himself to be led over to a pair of dusty tall-backed chairs next to the curtained window. Once sitting in the limited light peeking around the curtains, he could see that haggard, almost skeletal cast to Dumbledore's features. He'd known the headmaster was old, but he'd always had an energy that belied his age.
Not anymore.
"Yes, I am sure I look ghastly," Dumbledore said with a chuckle, correctly reading Harry's slight grimace. "An unfortunate side-effect to being my age and subsisting on far too little sleep and far too many potions."
"I knew you were busy, Sir," said Harry, "but I didn't realize just how much you were doing."
Dumbledore let out a long sigh.
"Being one of the very few people to know about Horcruxes adds a significant burden to my time. I must locate another, preferably before Miss Delacour completes her task. I would prefer to have it available for her use when the time comes."
Whether Dumbledore meant it as a pointed suggestion to prod Fleur into focusing more on her fire, he wasn't sure, but he made a mental note to mention the discussion that night on their notepaper.
"Not only that," Dumbledore continued, "but I am sure you've heard of the Death Eaters' increased activity? Their attacks have grown bold and deliberate. They no longer test defenses and response times. Earlier today, they made an example of a few of the neutral families. Thankfully there was little loss of life, but the message was very clear. Sides are to be chosen."
He sank down into his chair and ran a hand through his beard.
"And alas, I cannot be everywhere. As much as I would like to respond to every incident, we will not see the end of this war if we do not handle the Horcruxes and the prophecy."
Harry nodded, waiting as patiently as he could manage for Dumbledore to continue.
"Ah, yes. The prophecy. I hope you will allow me the benefit of the doubt, as I am aware of how this will sound."
Harry nodded.
"More than anything else, the prophecy mentions a power. Power to vanquish, cultivate power the Dark Lord cannot, power as fickle and old as time, and again, the power to vanquish. In my first days researching this prophecy, I thought perhaps it was some hitherto undiscovered magic or ancient spell that has been lost to the ages. Upon your parent's unfortunate demise and your subsequent survival, I was forced to reassess my belief."
He paused, letting his tired eyes rest on Harry for a moment before continuing.
"In light of the sacrifice your mother made to keep you alive, I believe this power you possess that Voldemort does not and cannot, is love."
Harry was pretty sure his body stopped working entirely as he tried to wrap his mind around what he'd just heard.
This power to defeat Voldemort was…love?
"As I said, I am aware of how it sounds. But it indeed fits, and better than any other magic I have applied to the prophecy."
"But…love, Sir?" Harry managed, a tremendous weight sapping the energy from his voice. "How am I supposed to beat Voldemort with love?"
"I must ask for your trust in my considerable age and knowledge, Harry. The most powerful magics are the most esoteric and the most symbolic. Your mother's selfless sacrifice fulfilled certain magical conditions to protect you from a curse that none before or since have survived. Protection borne of love."
Harry nodded slowly, his hand raising unbidden to brush the many ridges of his scar. He couldn't exactly argue with that.
"But, as I said, all the magic we can muster will be useless if Voldemort is simply able to resurrect himself again, so I must continue my search."
"Can…can I help?"
Dumbledore pushed himself up from the chair with a grunt and smiled down at him.
"I hope you'll pardon the turn of phrase, but I'd ask that you light a fire under Miss Delacour. I will endeavor to locate a Horcrux but it will be useless if we have nothing to attempt to destroy it with."
"But, Sir," Harry said, rising from his chair as well. "If Voldemort has more than one, how do we find them all?"
Dumbledore gestured to the book he'd returned to the shelf and shook his head.
"That is the other aspect I am searching for. I have a hunch, but there is not much we can do until we have a Horcrux in our possession."
Harry nodded, gratitude for the information and trust at war inside him with an overwhelming sense of hopelessness.
"Er…good luck, Sir."
"Thank you, Harry. Now if you'll excuse me, I must get back to work. There is never quite enough time in the day."
XxX
I talked to Dumbledore today.
I hope he did not have more abysmal news to share with you.
Not abysmal, no, but not great.
What is it?
His arm froze in the air, a sudden knot of worry building in his chest. Would it reopen the imbalance they had been content to ignore? But…she'd been nothing but understanding in their almost two years of being friends.
He thinks the power in the prophecy is love.
Her reply was slow in coming, her page full of blank potential that made him fidget on his bed. He'd nearly turned it over to write something else when her looping letters scrawled themselves across the page.
I cannot figure out what that means. How is love meant to defeat Voldemort?
I don't know. But he says that's what did it the first time. Old magic and my mum's sacrifice.
I admit to knowing little about the older forms of magic. In our final year at Beauxbatons, we may take a class that examines the more primal magic. Pure emotion and feeling generating a magical effect without the constructs of wands and incantations. I, unfortunately, could not attend due to the tournament.
Could you write to the professor? Maybe they know about some special love spell I can shoot at Voldemort.
Were it only so simple. It does sound foolish but there is power in such acts and feelings. Much as there is power in names and symbolic sacrifice. Old magic is complicated and simplistic all at once. I always found it fascinating, because of the potential power behind names, but I never pursued the interest.
I thought you said names didn't really have power when you were telling me about it back in Hogsmeade.
This time her slow reply generated curiosity, rather than stiff anxiety.
I was not being entirely forthcoming.
You weren't?
I am sorry! But it is a big deal for us to tell someone our names. I was afraid you would ask and my refusal would damage our friendship.
I wouldn't have been upset if you had said you didn't want to tell. I had plenty of secrets of my own.
I know that now. But I was not exactly untruthful. They do not possess the power to command another as in the old folktales. But if someone means enough to you for you to tell them your name, you would do almost anything for that person. Does that make sense?
I guess so. But isn't that just how you feel about a person instead of magic?
And we are debating the very thing that magical scholars have been discussing for centuries. Where does magic stop and autonomy begin? Does the very feeling of trust inherent in sharing something so personal form its own sort of magic?
It's a bit hard to wrap my head around. Not to mention it doesn't do much for the whole Voldemort thing.
No, it does not. Did Dumbledore say anything else?
He subtly suggested that we need to work a bit harder on your fire. He's trying to find a Horcrux so you can practice with it.
I am working on it…but perhaps not as hard as I should be. Truthfully-
The words cut off for a long moment before resuming a much more deliberate scrawl.
Truthfully, it is frightening. I cannot describe what it was like to see you through that thing's eyes, hurt by it. It is precisely what I fear.
I'm not afraid of you at all. I was about to be tortured and you showed up to save me. Even the fire was only warm until it got to my scar.
I know you are not but it is hard to get around such feelings. But if my fire is necessary to fix the Horcrux situation, I will get past it. I will take you up on your offer and we can practice in the clearing after your birthday. If you are willing.
Whatever you need.
Thank you. We will get this whole thing figured out. Somehow.
I sure hope so. Imagine what it'd be like to just live a normal life.
Well, life with a Veela is never quite normal.
Comparatively, it is.
That is true. One day, all I will have to worry about is how soon our next dinner date will be.
Hopefully, I'll have learned some more French meals by then.
Or perhaps Italian?
A subtle hint.
I thought so. I hope you are looking forward to your birthday.
It'll be my first ever party. I just hope they don't overdo it.
It is almost a guarantee that they will, but it is only because they care about you.
I know. I'm excited.
Good. Now, I have to go work on your gift.
Work on it? You're making me one again this year?
Not making, exactly. And those are all the hints you are getting. I will see you on Wednesday. Remember, act surprised.
I will. Goodnight Fleur.
Goodnight Harry.
XxX
By the time the thirty-first made an appearance, Harry's dim excitement had bolstered all the way up to barely containable. The more he'd thought about it, the more the alien idea transformed into something special in his mind. He had to admit, most of it was due to Fleur's vague allusions to his gift, which so far had left him intrigued and restless. So when the morning of his sixteenth birthday was upon them, he greeted the dawn wide-awake for the first time in a long while, pleasant dreams of Fleur still running through his mind.
Knowing he wasn't about to get any more sleep, he rolled out of bed and grabbed his glasses. Written across the top in her perfect looping handwriting, were the very first words he'd seen on her fantastic creation.
Happy Birthday!
I stayed the night at my parents' home. Remember to act surprised. I will see you soon.
Apparently, he hadn't been the only one unable to sleep. He made his way downstairs, taking care not to disturb the creaky spots and wake Sirius, and put a kettle on the stove. His morning routine had come naturally at the beginning of summer, fostered by his waking early and having little direction. Sirius often joined him, either from a similarly sleepless night or from smelling the beginnings of breakfast from downstairs. It hadn't taken much convincing to get Sirius to let him make most of their meals. He'd made some weak argument that he was meant to be taking care of Harry, not the other way around, but Harry's insistence and the quality of his meals made quick work of that particular disagreement.
The kettle was whistling by the time Sirius staggered into the kitchen, looking far more haggard than usual. Two days' worth of stubble darkened his chin and bags sat beneath his eyes. A vision of a war-exhausted Dumbledore flashed through Harry's mind and his nerves came alight, putting him on edge. The wide, goofy smile that grew on Sirius's face put the anxiety to rest and Harry blew out a sigh of relief.
"Happy Birthday," Sirius said, dropping a hand onto Harry's shoulder and squeezing. "Just one year away from adulthood. How's it feel?"
"Same as yesterday," Harry said, pouring the water for their tea. "Who knows. Maybe by the end of the day, I'll feel a bit older."
"Just wait until you're my age. Then the years really start adding up."
"You're not that old," Harry said, handing over Sirius's cup of tea. "You're in your thirties. Dumbledore is like…five hundred."
"It's unfair to compare anyone to Dumbledore, let alone someone who was in Azkaban for close to half of their life."
"That makes sense," Harry said, pulling out the pans he used for his usual fry-up.
As he dropped them on the stove, he managed to hide his small grin at the idea that flashed through his head. Perhaps Fleur was rubbing off on him a bit.
"I was thinking it might be fun to go to Fortescue's today. Fleur and I really liked it."
His subtle tease earned him a flash of mild panic across Sirius's face as his godfather searched for an appropriate diversion.
"I uh…think Andy said a lot of the shops on Diagon are closed today."
"What for?"
"For…security improvements."
Harry had to admit, that wasn't a terrible lie. They'd been prepping for an attack on the business center of Wizarding Britain ever since Barty Crouch Junior's attack on the Ministry.
"Some timing, huh?" Sirius said with a slight laugh.
Harry busied himself with the stove to hide his smile.
"Yeah. Oh well. Maybe I can go over to Fleur's or something."
"We'll see," Sirius said, his tone so deliberately light that Harry was almost sure he was trying to give the surprise away. "Oh, I promised Apolline and Sebastian we would swing by to say hello. I'm sure they want to wish you a happy birthday as well."
Harry simply nodded as he cooked, letting the little game fall away while he appreciated the simple joy of cooking for his godfather.
After breakfast, he was herded up to his room with such expediency that he'd have thought they were late to the end of the world, rather than a simple party, but he complied, pulling on his favorite set of clothes he owned; the ones he'd gotten when he had stayed with the Delacours.
The first ones Fleur had said he looked good in.
With exaggerated slowness, he clomped down the stairs and met a frowning Sirius in the living room.
"Took you long enough. Do you have your mirror? The portkey?"
Harry double-checked his pockets, as had become a habit the few times he'd left Grimmauld Place. Considering what had happened at the Ministry, he couldn't fault the logic of keeping an emergency portkey on hand to bring him back home.
"I even remembered my wand," Harry said, smiling. "Don't worry."
"Alright then," Sirius said with a nod. "Let's get going."
The scene that met him inside the sitting room at Delacour Manor wasn't the pandemonium he had expected from something called a surprise party, but he hadn't needed to fake his expression of shock even a little bit. Various streamers flew through the air as though carried on an invisible breeze and confetti trickled down on his head the moment he stepped out of the floo. A shouted chorus of 'Happy Birthday!' made him jump in surprise, even though he'd been expecting the greeting.
Arrayed throughout the room were far more people than he had expected to be present. He had anticipated another day with Fleur, Hermione, Ron, and Gabrielle, not the veritable crowd that surrounded the hearth.
Mrs. Weasley stood next to her husband and Bill. The eldest Weasley's hand was clasped with Mariika's, who gave a small wave when she noticed Harry looking their way. Ron stood next to his dad, with Hermione at his side, a woman with straight brown hair standing behind her.
Without Platform Nine and Three-Quarters around them, it took Harry a moment to recognize Hermione's mother. Next to Hermione, her sunny blond hair tied into two braids that hung over either shoulder with a single flower stuck in the bottom, stood Luna. Andy and, to Harry's surprise, Mrs. Malfoy stood side-by-side, smiling at him.
And in the middle stood Fleur, a simple white dress falling below her knees, with a beaming smile putting everyone else's to shame. Sebastian and Apolline stood behind her, with Gabrielle to her right.
The sheer multitude of greetings and warm welcomes made his knees want to buckle and his heart stutter in his chest. He'd known there was going to be a party, but to see everyone there, just to greet him was…indescribable and too near to overwhelming for his liking.
In short order, he was whisked away to talk with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, both of whom he hadn't had the chance to see since leaving Hogwarts. Though they both seemed to be a little more subdued and tired than usual, he didn't manage to get away without being crushed in a hug from Mrs. Weasley. All the occupants of the Burrow, which apparently no longer included Fred and George, the both of them having moved to a flat off Diagon Alley, sent along their well-wishes and were safe and sound, despite the 'nastiness from You-Know-Who.'
After he'd made his rounds, being sure to compliment Luna on her flower choice and doing his best to engage Mrs. Granger in a house so full of magical people, Fleur attached herself to him, one arm wrapped around his as she dragged him across the entryway and into the smaller, less formal dining room.
"I am sure you know how we prefer to do birthday lunches," she said as they stepped through to reveal a table filled much as it had been for Gabrielle's party. Apolline was in the middle of filling a final plate with what appeared to be some sort of spinach puff. "But there is a key difference this time."
He scanned the table but wasn't able to pick out anything out of the ordinary. Fortunately, Fleur put him out of his misery rather quickly.
"I helped make every single thing here," she said, grinning as she swept a hand to encompass the table.
"It's true," said Apolline, setting the last pastry down. "We made a good team."
"I'm sorry I missed it."
Their joint efforts turned out to be a hit, and the table was barren less than an hour later, the rest of the guests having caught wind of available food. Mrs. Weasley drew Apolline and Mrs. Granger aside into the kitchen, and when Harry peeked in out of curiosity, he saw the two older witches making Mrs. Granger green with envy while demonstrating a number of basic cooking charms.
A few hours and a quick trip home later, most of the party was back in the lake, either floating, swimming, or in Ron and Gabrielle's case, having what amounted to a water war. Both had brandished their wands and were sending jest of airborne water into each other's faces, with numerous 'accidental' casualties.
After he'd swallowed at least half the lake from collateral damage, Harry paddled away to where Fleur was floating on her back, with Hermione and Luna doing the same nearby.
"Did you get tired of the splash war?" Hermione asked the sky, kicking slightly to keep herself floating.
"I think it feels worse with warm water somehow. Feels weird when it goes up your nose."
"I am glad somebody else is here to bear the brunt of her horseplay. I like to float, while she likes to splash."
"It would be nice to have a lake. Though daddy is terribly frightened of the water variant of the hamgon."
"A-" Hermione's confused tone slid away and he thought he heard her sigh. "Yes. I am quite jealous. This is wonderful."
Harry turned to watch the continued battle, unsure if he'd be able to focus on anything at all if he kept staring at the parts of Fleur that were sticking up above the water. Ron and Gabrielle's fight had escalated to include bits of water chilled into snowballs that were particularly effective against Gabrielle, though her aim was better and Ron let out a squawk every time one hit him in the face.
Bill and Mariika wandered across the shoreline, hand in hand, though Bill had to let go and turn to deflect a stray snowball that Ron had sent flying in his direction.
Harry never found the opportunity to lure Fleur back to her secret place for a repeat of their private time during Gabrielle's birthday, an event that had featured almost nightly in his dreams. She did, however, torture him utterly with the brush of her fingers across his back when she floated by, or once she'd finally come back down into the water, by wrapping her arms over his shoulders from behind and pulling him against her.
It was with great reluctance that Harry left the lake and they made their way up to the manor to get changed in time for dinner. The swim had eaten through what little energy he had earned from his meager sleep the night before and the small bit of food they'd had. Fleur bid him temporary goodbye in front of the door to her old room with a kiss that left his knees weak as he trod the short distance down to his room.
The tiny broomsticks zooming around his name brought both a swell of warmth and an ache to his heart. Seeing his name on the little enchanted plaque was a thrill, but it had been so long since he'd been able to take to the air. To feel the wind and freedom surround him.
He pushed open his door and closed it with a foot, trying to keep thoughts of flight from souring what had been an incredible day. No matter his best efforts, his skin yearned for the press of air and his lungs for the biting pressure and exhilaration of a dive. He wanted to corkscrew and feint and drift and pivot until his arms and legs ached from the precise control needed on his firebolt.
He stepped out of his trunks and pulled on his regular clothes, lost in the pleasant daydream.
Skies above and trees below with the wind carrying him between them both. The sun shone on his face, his arms, his neck as he dove.
And there was a figure next to him.
Either on his broom…or maybe flying on her own, soaring alongside him to some unknown destination.
A knock on his door drew him sharply from the daydream and he shook himself from it.
"Have you fallen asleep?" Fleur asked through the door. "It might be your birthday but that still would be rather rude."
"No," he said, pulling open the door to reveal his grinning girlfriend. "Just thinking."
"What about?" she asked, placing two fingers on his chest and pushing him back into the bedroom.
"Um…"
Thoughts of the air abandoned him when her fingers slid against the fabric of his shirt until her palm was pressed gently against his heart.
"Something exciting?" she asked, tilting her head to the side. "Your heart is racing."
She let her arm drop, the wide loose sleeve of her dress falling to cover her hand. She had changed from the simple white dress she'd worn he'd arrived into something simpler, but somehow more elegant. It lived somewhere between the loose clothes she often preferred and the form-fitting red dress she'd worn to Sirius's reinstatement party. It clung to her curves without giving definition and spilled onto the floor in a waterfall of fabric.
"'Arry?"
"Your dress," he finally managed.
"Ah. Yes."
Her hand raised to fiddle with the neckline, which dipped to just above her collarbones.
Over her shoulder, he caught sight of her ribbon, its colors melding between forest green and insistent lavender. He forced himself to focus, to try and remember what little he'd learned about the colors.
Green was…nervousness?
"Mariika brought it for me," Fleur continued, letting her hand fall to her side and grasping the wide sleeves with her fingers. "It is supposedly a traditional garb for her group of Veela. If my type has any…I do not know about it, so I asked to borrow it."
"What for?" he asked before he could stop himself.
"What for?" she echoed, a small half-smile quirking her lips. "To show off, of course. Your open-mouthed stare tells me it is working."
He nodded, privately reveling in the pink in her cheeks that was mirrored in her ribbon. Good to know.
"But come along. Maman will go insane if we wait too long on dinner and I was sent to fetch you, not to tease you."
She leaned forward and placed a finger on his chin, his mouth clicking closed as she pressed. Then she used it to draw him into a long kiss that held little of the manic passion she'd exhibited in the lake but held, instead, the lingering promise of more.
"My gift comes after the party. Do not worry when I do not hand you one after dinner."
Whether he was simply drawn to follow her, or his body walked itself downstairs out of a sense of propriety, he didn't know, but it felt as though he'd been standing with Fleur in his room, then was suddenly in the dining room with conversation abuzz all around him. He sat in his usual seat next to Fleur and accepted a somewhat overloaded plate from Mrs. Weasley, who wished him a happy birthday for what he was sure was the hundredth time.
The food was outstanding, a byproduct of Mrs. Weasley and Apolline if he'd had to guess by their gracious smiles when he complimented the meal. The sounds of silverware rang through the room for only a short time before conversation picked up. They asked him to recount his purchase of Lenette, who sat on the back of Gabrielle's chair, watching the meal with interest. He shared his first proper meeting with Fleur, up in the owlery and their subsequent date to the Yule Ball.
Mariika was peppered with the occasional question, many of which came from Mrs. Weasley, who happily listened to stories of her and her sisters making day trips to the Black Sea or down into Greece. She and Sirius shared favorite beaches while Harry was positive he saw Bill surreptitiously taking notes.
Though he hadn't cooked the meal for the people he loved, it filled him up all the same, leaving him utterly content to listen to others talk while he and Fleur let their hands dangle between them, out of sight below the table. Later, he was ushered into the sitting room and presented with gifts he had to squash the compulsion to refuse, while simultaneously tamping down the urge to burst into tears each time another was handed to him.
Even through such tumult, he was never able to get Fleur's promise out of his mind while the soft smile that never faltered as she watched from the side of the room swelled his heart near to bursting. Each time he looked over, her smile grew, the small glint of her ribbon stuck solidly on its wonderful lavender.
The Weasleys had all departed, Mariika included, along with Luna, Hermione, and her mother when Fleur finally felt it appropriate to disentangle Harry from what remained of the party. Sirius, full near to bursting, still managed to make sure he had his portkey on him before waving them away and returning to listening to Sebastian, while Narcissa waved a polite goodbye and stepped through the floo.
She pulled him by the hand through the hall and the ballroom, where Apolline and Gabrielle sat at the piano, the older woman playing harmony to their special song. In response, Fleur's warm grip tightened on his and she led him out the back, through the small gardens, and into the trees.
The shimmering, near-full moonlight spilled through the leaves overhead. It danced across the ground with the wind, scattering glistening diamonds across the earth below. Sticks cracked beneath his feet while she glided over roots and around trees, the low, flowing hem of her dress moving with slow, ethereal grace. It absorbed the moonlight as she passed beneath it, mimicking the glow effused by her silver hair.
Serenity pulsed through him, growing stronger the closer they drew to their clearing. To the secluded space that had seen the first inklings of his calm mind and the stirrings of his guarded heart. The warmth of her hand in his pulsed with each heartbeat, bringing the beauty of the forest down to a drab swath of gray against the beauty that held him by the hand.
She captivated him so completely that they were stepping into the clearing before he'd realized they were close, and he was blinking away the moonlight as it spilled across the grass. It reflected off the tops of the stones, moss worn away by Fleur's idle jumps, and off the peeking tops of mushrooms dotting the ground. Familiar branches reached to shadow the edges, their leaves disrupting the soft white light that lit them from above, casting Fleur in a luminescent glow.
With a last squeeze of his hand, she let go and twirled to face him, the bottom of her dress flowing out and wrapping itself around her ankles.
"Is this my gift?" he asked, a faint swell of pride rising inside him at the steadiness of his voice. "I really like it."
" Non ," she whispered, placing a hand on his shoulder and sitting him down on the ground in the center of the circle of stones.
Hair spilled over her shoulder as she bent with him, placing a delicate kiss on his lips. She rose, her lavender ribbon fluttering with her hair in a small breeze and she took a step back and let her slight smile drift away.
"This is your gift."
For long heartbeats, she didn't move, allowing the summer wind to catch her hair and lift the earthen scents of dirt and wood around them.
The first twist of her foot was almost imperceptible, the rippling hem of her dress hiding the movement while her arms rose slowly from her side, lifted with the breeze. Silken fabric flowed with her movement, gripping as she bent and twirling as she spun, offering him glimpses of her feet skating through the grass, carrying her off with the wind. Each dip of her head captured moonlight and every arching flip set it free. Sinuous movement coiled her arms around her body and lifted them through her hair and up to the sky.
He was captivated. Utterly, surely, and without thought beyond the experience of the moment.
Then, she began to sing.
It started without words; the lilting melody that drew him deeply into the warmth curling inside him. Intimate familiarity drew the words to his thoughts, and though he'd only heard them once, their import sent waves of sensation rolling through his body in time with his pulse. As the refrain drew to a crescendo, her movements grew wider, sweeping and grand, and they ushered in the verse.
Their clearing filled with her words, a tapestry of love and life that curled through the trees with the surety of homecoming. Passion wove itself into her voice and movement, heating the wind with each pulsing turn. It thrummed with her song, in time with the heartbeat of the forest.
Moonlight coalesced into twisting light that moved with her. Images of saplings blooming into elder trees shifted and moulded into one another, while tiny motes of light grew and shrank, taking the shape of people that moved in concert with her music.
They danced and spun alongside her, motes spiralling out and into the sky to join the stars; diamonds glittering in the moonlight.
The trees curled away as her song spun from word into quiet, humming melody, and the people of light vanished into the air.
Her song waned and drifted away until, at last, she was left standing alone in the clearing.
Harry struggled to find himself. To come back to such a mundane form as his arms and legs and body when he'd however briefly been a part of something so incredible.
In its own finale, the wind stilled and set her hair down upon her back, prompting her forward.
She sat down next to him, pulling her dress taut against the back of her legs as she lowered herself onto the grass. Neither of them spoke, though he did scoot to the side to close the gap between them and to feel the blazing warmth of her against him.
She rested her head atop his, her quick breaths slowing as she relaxed.
"You liked it?"
"It was…magical."
"As it is meant to be. Mariika's people…they can create images and stories out of the light and the air. It was breathtaking."
" That was breathtaking," he said, gesturing to where she had become a dancing, singing spirit of the forest. "Is that what you can do when you dance?"
She nodded against his head, her cheek ruffling his hair.
"For those ensnared by the allure, it only amplifies their feelings."
"I don't remember seeing anything like that at the World Cup."
She smiled against his head.
"They were not trying very hard."
They lapsed back into silence and Harry wrapped his arm around her shoulder, eliciting a pleased sigh from Fleur. Even through her dress, the heat of her skin pressed against him, reaching deep into his bones.
"Did you enjoy your first ever birthday party?" she asked, lifting her head to look at him, a smile on her face.
"I…didn't know I wanted it so badly. When you told me about it, I didn't really care. But seeing everybody here…"
"Be sure to thank Hermione. She did most of the inviting."
"I will."
He looked around their clearing, seeing it fully for the first time since they arrived now that his attention had finally been released. After a moment, he spotted the swath of grass-less ground that ended in a pair of trees that had fallen against one another.
"I suppose that's where your over-powered cutting spell hit?" he asked, pointing.
"Yes," she grumbled, her light tone fading into annoyance as she plucked her wand from somewhere in her dress.
She stared at it, rolling it through her fingers as though searching for an explanation written in the wood.
"It has been almost unusable lately," she said, holding it aloft. "Cover your eyes."
He did as instructed, but still ended up blinking away spots at the light that shone through his fingers at her quiet, "Lumos."
"Emilienne mentioned that it would be temperamental, but this is…" she trailed off, waving the now normal spell through the air. "I do not know what to do. I thought I was getting the hang of it at the beginning of the month, but now…"
"Er…could I…?" he let the question trail off and she stared at him for a moment in surprise.
"Of course."
It was, as he expected, warm from her touch, the grain of the wood far more tactile than on his own. The grip was a comfortable fit, though it was clear it had been made for someone with thinner fingers than his own work-thickened hands.
With a brandish, he too tried the spell and found that his also flared before settling, though less than Fleur's had, which wasn't a surprise. He brought it back up to his face to examine the intricate leafy designs running the length.
"You see?" she said. "I will never be able to do any of the more delicate spells if this continues."
He held the wand out and tried to focus on the weakest shield he could imagine, and let it coalesce in front of them. It shimmered in the air, a visible distortion in the steady moonlight.
"That is a perfect shield charm," she said, frowning. "How did you do that?"
"I was trying to make it really weak," he said, dispelling the charm. "It even felt like it wasn't going to work, but then came out stronger."
She shrugged, then grinned, leaning back and planting her hands on the grass to prop herself up.
"It is your naming day after all. Do you feel any more powerful?"
The wood rubbed against his fingertips as he rolled it between them, choosing his words with care.
"Not really. But…it's sorta like you said, isn't it? Everybody knows about Harry James Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. That's just some hero who doesn't exist. I'm just Harry."
"All of your friends call you Harry as well? No nicknames? When I was little, Papa used to call me by whatever flower popped into his head when he saw me."
The image brought a smile to Harry's face, but it faded quickly.
"No, I've never had any nicknames worthwhile."
Her dress shuffled as she pushed herself upright and turned his head to face hers with a single finger.
A mix of tentative hope and nervousness warred behind her eyes that, in the moonlight, nearly glowed with their own blazing light.
"I…can think of one such name," she said, letting the unspoken question hang between them.
Flashes of a loving couple danced through his thoughts. Affectionate epithets whispered between them while he smiled and cooked.
The momentary thrill when he'd very first read her words written across the page.
"I would really like that."
His voice wavered, but he managed to keep it from cracking. The smile that graced her lips burned away any embarrassment he had and he was again lost in her.
She slid her finger up his cheek and cupped it with the palm of her hand, drawing him close.
"Happy Birthday, Darling."
The warmth of her hand bled through his head and down into his chest, drawing everything from his vision that wasn't her. It swelled inside him, pouring into his veins to course through his body.
Her eyes widened as he stared, her chest rising as her breath caught. Her ribbon danced through its colors, lavender tinting its edges all the while.
He drew in a breath that begged to be released from the heat boiling inside him.
"I love you, Fleur."
A dazzling light burst from the wand he held tight in his hand.