"An excellent suggestion, Bellatrix."
Voldemort's bony fingers closed around Bellatrix's shoulder and even in her weakened state, Narcissa could see the pinpricks of manic glee in her sister's eyes. Pinpricks as hard and pointed as her betrayal, no matter how expected.
"You could have asked," Narcissa ground out, the words punctuated by the rolling shudders of remnant pain.
"There was no need. I am sure we would have discovered your…loving family had confounded the tracking charm, had we decided to risk trusting you. This guaranteed us our result."
"May I?" Bellatrix's twisted pleading voice grated against Narcissa's eardrums, bruised from the roar of her own screams.
"I'm afraid not. We aren't finished here yet. I need you to go as support. I have no doubt our target will be well-warded. Dolohov will report back and we will send a sizable team to bring them down and retrieve my little hindrance. He will fall, the prophecy will be fulfilled, and I shall be unstoppable."
"Yes, my Lord."
Narcissa let herself collapse once the Death Eaters surrounding her dispersed, ignoring their now boring plaything. The stones were cool against her sweat-slicked cheek, offering minor comfort to her raw nerves.
Where the rest of the footsteps vanished deeper into the manor to prepare for the upcoming, horrible raid, a single set drew nearer from an unseen doorway while she trembled, unable to do anything for the people she'd finally connected with.
The tentative steps stopped behind her head and there was a rustle of fabric as a form crouched over her. She wanted to tense, to lash out with fists and teeth in absence of her wand. But torture had cut her tendons and stolen her energy, leaving her a helpless, cowering heap.
"Mother?"
XxX
Shifting lights occluded Harry's vision, his bones vibrating with the force of the concussive blast that had torn through the clearing. He groaned and shifted, the grass beneath him prickling at his skin as he tried to blink away his disorientation.
Cloth brushed against his arms and his fuzzy vision coalesced into the bottom of Fleur's dress, draped over his waist as she towered over him. Flickers of orange and blue danced across the white fabric, reflecting the churning fireballs held aloft in each of her hands. He shifted up to his elbows, trying to focus on the light above him. Streams of blue snaked out from the center of the fire, spitting out the top in winking bursts.
His groan drew her attention and the fire faltered as she looked down at him, her mouth drawn into a line and the fierce reflection of dwindling firelight in her gaze pinning him to the ground. She dispelled her fireballs and crouched down, her fingers running through the back of his hair and holding them up to check for blood. Satisfied, she helped him to his feet and held out her hand.
It took him a moment, but when he realized what she was asking for, he noticed he still held her wand in a white-knuckled grip, the handle blazing beneath his fingers. He handed it back then got to his feet.
"What did you do?" she asked, then froze, her wand still held in front of her. "What is this…?"
He followed her lowered gaze down to the stone circle and saw the oddity that had caught her attention. The stones still sat, unaffected and mossy by whatever discharge had knocked him flat, but alternating with each one, was the rounded top of a mushroom, peeking up through the grass.
"How strange," she murmured, scanning the clearing around them with narrowed eyes, the rest of the grass now devoid of the toadstools. She turned to look behind her and went rigid, facing the section that had been gouged out by her cutting spell.
Where there had been nothing but churned dirt, grass now sprouted as full and tall as the rest. But even that didn't captivate his attention for long. In between the two felled trees that leaned against one another, hung a shimmering golden veil. Moonlight spilled across it, dispersing into a dancing multitude of colors beneath the shadowed canopy. It billowed and flapped in a fierce wind, while the grass beneath their feet stood still and upright in the night air.
Carefully, Fleur stepped over the ring of mushrooms and stones towards the veil, her wand held down at her side. Harry followed just behind, tearing his eyes away from the otherworldly sight in search of any other oddities.
"It cannot be," she whispered as they drew near, casting a glance back over her shoulder to the circle, then back to the veil.
"What?" he asked, hesitating a step behind her. The air around the strange golden thing pressed cool and uncomfortable against his skin.
"That is a fairy ring," she said, tilting her head back towards the circle. "And this…" she nodded towards the felled trees, "is a fairy gateway."
While Harry goggled at the glittering expanse of what had been empty air between the trees, Fleur took another step forward, a hand reaching out towards the gateway.
"Does it seem…safe?" he asked, taking another step forward into the oppressive air.
"It feels so welcoming," she murmured as she took another step forward to let her fingers graze the golden light. It parted without resistance, sparkling motes of light spiraling into the air as she drew her hand through, sending ripples to bounce off the wooden arch framing it.
Harry took another step closer, stopping at her shoulder, his breath coming in short bursts for the icy pressure across his body.
"Do you think," he gasped out, each inhale a challenge, "it's got fairies inside?"
"Let us hope so," she said, reaching back to grab his hand.
With a tug, she drew him stumbling forward and through the veil, into cold crushing blackness.
XxX
"Please, Draco."
Each word tore at her ruined throat and ragged heart. She had suffered so to keep him from danger, to keep him from being involved. But he was her only hope for saving him…for saving any of them.
"Take the floo. Grimmauld. Get help."
XxX
Chaotic light swirled around them in crashing waves of color. They crested as one into pure blinding white as the churning mass collided against her skin. Each step forward drew them deeper into the sea until glittering colors faded and shifted into thick, ancient trees and mossy green earth beneath her bare feet. Crisp sea-air mingled with the forest scents carried between branches on a warm flowing breeze.
Behind her, Harry trembled, the fierce shiver running through his arm and down to the hand held tight in hers. She hesitated in her appreciation of the unabashed splendor around her, a knot of concern burrowing through the idyllic warmth surrounding her; so familiar and welcoming.
His breaths came in sharp gasps and his eyes were pressed tightly closed behind his glasses, his brow wrinkled with the pressure of it. Another tremor wracked his body and he let out a soft groan.
"'Arry?"
She pocketed her wand and drew him closer, her hand going up to his cheek. He didn't open his eyes but pressed into her hand, the wrinkles on his forehead lessening with her touch.
"What's happening?" he croaked, the words strangled and weak. "I've never…apparated…for this long."
"Apparated?" She scanned the twinkling forest around her as if for an explanation but found none, the light-saturated woodlands standing stoic as any other forest. "Open your eyes."
Without removing his head from her hand, he cracked open one eyelid, then the other, his normally vibrant green eyes almost black from his dilated pupil. He recoiled, putting his free hand up to his eyes, squinting. A grimace crossed his features and his jaw flexed beneath her hand.
"It hurts?" she asked, trailing her hand down to his shoulder, prompting a small groan of discomfort from him.
"Splitting headache," he forced out. "Pressure all over." His hand clamped down on hers where it rested on his neck. "Except here."
She frowned at her hand, then drew it down across his front and to his chest. As her fingertips brushed over the ridges of his collarbone and over his heart, he pulled in a shuddering full breath, then another, and another.
While he caught his breath, she lifted her other hand back to his face, cupping his right cheek. He leaned into it, some of the tension around his eyes lessening as he continued long, deep breaths. She shifted her hand up, fingers sliding through his hairline. She slid her hand around to his forehead, but the moment her palm brushed the irregular ridges of his scar, his eyes snapped open, his pupils all but pinpricks in solid green. His spine stiffened and he let out a horrible mix of a sob and a moan perilously close to the one that still haunted her nightmares from their near capture at the Ministry.
She snatched her hand away, expecting to see the pulsing blue radiating from his scar, but he collapsed to the ground. He twitched and moaned, his chest rising and falling in tiny rapid bursts. She dropped to her knees beside him, rocks hidden beneath the mossy green ground slamming into her legs.
"Please," he whispered, tapping his chest with his hand while the other pressed hard against his temple.
Carefully, she pressed her hand again to his chest, and let out a long breath when he relaxed, instead of going rigid.
"Well, well. You've got quite the problem."
Fleur spun towards the newcomer's voice, her hand still pressed to Harry's chest. She pulled her wand from her pocket and held it in front of her. It pulsed hot in her hand, a steady, thrumming rhythm.
She found nothing but the whisper of too-green leaves above and the gnarled bark of the trees surrounding them, pinning them in.
"Disgusting," the voice said from close behind her, and she whirled again, panic flaring at its proximity to Harry.
"You bring that bastardization into these woods?" it asked, this time from up in the branches.
She twisted to scan leaves that molded into one another in the warm, salty breeze, colors and shadows shifting to a single, nebulous canopy.
"I'd have expected someone like you to show at least a little respect," it said, quiet, and next to her.
When she spun, she found a figure crouching over Harry, solid green eyes squinting down at him as he groaned, his hand still pressed to his head. Its head was filled with thick, dirt-colored hair that fell about its shoulders, hiding the edges of a face too perfect to be real. High, regal cheekbones accented a broad smile, though it was drawn to the side.
A grin of…disgust?
"Yes…" it said, its voice thick and lilting. "Quite a few problems."
It wasn't the odd, unplaceable voice or the big, solid green eyes that drew her attention most. It was the skin. A reflective sheen coating flesh the color of the bark on the trees around them that sent the green of the leaves and the unseen sun scattering around it in bursts.
"What are you?" she murmured, sparing a glance down to Harry who was blinking up at them, his pupils again fully dilated.
He squinted up at…whatever was crouched next to him.
The thing tutted and shook its head.
"Then…who are you?"
"I know much better than that," it said, fixing her with a gaze the color of unbloomed buds. "Who are you?"
Instead of answering, she tried a different approach.
"Where are we?"
The thing's eyes widened and its smile turned down, though never fully vanished.
"This will get boring quickly." It gestured to the woods around them. "You knocked. I finally answered."
"How can I help him?" she asked, keeping her hand on his chest as Harry pulled himself upright, staring at the stranger.
"You are helping him," it said, the faint smile pulling up at one side into a grinning sneer. "He is an intruder. They all are. This place rejects them."
"I can't…make him okay?" she asked.
"Potentially," it said, standing and staring down at them both. "Who are you?"
Well…she knew better than that too.
"Fleur," she answered, meeting the thing's steady gaze.
It shifted its head back and forth, weighing her answer.
"Somewhat. And you?" it said, the melodic quality to its voice fading as it addressed Harry, turning hard as stone.
"Names," she whispered to him in warning.
"I'm Harry."
"Barely," it said, barely taking any time to consider. "Try again."
He turned his head to look at her and she could only shrug. She shifted so her legs would stop aching and she could keep her hands on him without contorting herself.
"Just Harry."
"Closer," it said, scanning him, earth-colored brows drawn together. "You are…a mess."
"Um..."
"And who are you?" she asked. "We answered your question."
"I watch over this place," it said with a grand wave of its arm. It let it hang in the air for a moment before letting it fall to its side.
"That did not tell us much."
"You gave me poor answers, I gave you one in return."
"We gave you two answers."
It tutted, its grin growing slightly wider.
"True, true," it said, once again casting an arm through the air. "I rule over this place."
She frowned, stealing a glance over at Harry who only shrugged his shoulders, his hand finding its way to clasp hers against his chest.
"If this place is bad for him," she said slowly, "then we should leave. Do you know the way out?"
"I do."
"Then…can you show us?"
"No, no, it's my turn."
It tapped at its shimmering chin with a long, slender finger, humming a tuneless string of notes.
"I would like to know," it said. "Who are you?"
She frowned, pushing away the glimmer of irritation. If she was right about the type of thing this was…her answer could be dangerous.
"I am his girlfriend and I am worried about him," she said, earning her a nod in return. "Will you show us the way out?"
"I will."
She sighed and it resumed tapping its chin before facing Harry.
"Why are you here?" it asked, gesturing with a hand towards him.
"Because her wand went off in my hand," he answered.
The sneering smile returned and it looked down at Fleur's wand.
"Ugly, tiny little thing. So like your kind to steal and contain others' power, to use it for your own selfish wants."
Irritation bubbled in Fleur's chest but she forced it down.
"I did not steal it. The core was given to me."
It sniffed, then focused again on her.
"It boils with power. A strong connection. Stronger right now. That is your path home."
She blinked at the clipped words, the person in front of her folding its arms and looking around the woods, its sparkling skin dancing as a gust blew through the trees.
"So I should…apparate?" she guessed, then winced when a furious gaze pinned her to the spot, the smile wide and dangerous.
"More hubris. Tearing their way into our world to be spat out again elsewhere. Inelegant thieves."
Its fury cooled.
"You should be better."
It took a step to the side and began circling them. She tried to keep it in sight the whole time, her head revolving as it walked.
Harry shifted and caught her eye.
"What do we do?" he mouthed.
She thought for a moment and felt stubbornness rise in her throat. They didn't have to keep sitting there playing some strange question-answer trade with some creature. With a grunt, she helped Harry to his feet, causing the newcomer to quit its pacing.
"We are leaving now."
XxX
Green fire flared and he stumbled into an unfamiliar room.
"K-Kreacher!"
A long, silent moment passed, then the air in front of him cracked, divulging an aged house-elf, distrusting eyes far smaller than the watery eyes of his own elf.
"You are not the Master or the stray," it croaked.
"Your master will die if you don't take a message to him," he said, remembering the words his mother had told him to say. "You are bound to help him."
A sneer lifted its thin lips. "You lie," it said, fingers raised to snap itself back out of existence, or to remove him from the house.
"The Dark Lord is about to attack the place he's at right now. If you don't warn him, he'll die."
It hesitated, fingers poised in the air. Tiny tendons stood out against its thin wrist, its arm shaking with effort.
With a furious wail, it raised its other hand and vanished with a snap.
XxX
"You would leave?" the mysterious thing said, the twinkling hues of light dancing across its reflective skin. "But I have so many secrets for you."
She froze before she could even take her first step.
"What sort of secrets?" she asked, seeing curiosity mirrored in Harry's gaze.
The pull of concern for Harry was strong, his rapid heartbeat beneath her hand a powerful grounding force. But…the very air around her lingered, trying to convince her to stay in whatever warm, comfortable place they'd found themselves in, strange being or no.
Its grin grew from mild to positively gleeful.
"Potential secrets."
She frowned, memories tickling at the back of her mind, threatening to invade the heady feel of the forest permeating her senses.
It took a step forward.
"But now it's my turn. Who are you?"
She twitched, anxious fear rippling through her.
"I'm…a daughter," she said eventually, earning herself a hearty nod.
"Oh, yes," it said. "A complete Truth at last. You are indeed a daughter."
It threw its arms wide.
"Not one of mine, but of this place."
"I knew it," she breathed, earning her a questioning glance from Harry. "A fairy."
His eyes went wide and she felt his muscles tense under her hands.
"What do we do?" he whispered back. "How do we get home?"
"We will have to get the answer from it." She turned her attention back to the fairy, which still held its arms out wide. "Why do you keep asking me that question?"
It let its arms fall.
"So many questions have the same answer," it said, tilting its head. "I ask because I see four standing before me."
"Four?" she echoed, casting a glance over to Harry…and up to his scar.
But…four?
"So then," it said, its voice slightly harder. "Who are you?"
She hesitated, then stiffened.
"I am Veela."
To her utter surprise, it scoffed. Its eyes flashed to vivid black chasms in its face and its smile curved into a feral grin.
"With your wand and your fear and your separation . You are barely Veela."
"My-" she stopped when Harry's hand squeezed hers, his eyes still bearing the shadow of pain.
"If that's a fairy," he whispered. "Maybe it knows about the fire? Didn't you say you'd hoped to run into one in Norway?"
She nodded, trying to gather her thoughts and still her thundering heart.
"Do you kn-" she stopped, revising her question. "Will you show me how to use the blue fire?"
"I cannot show you," it said, its face sliding slowly back to placidity. "You already know."
"No, I do not," she shot back, her temper flaring. "The most I have managed is tiny bursts of it in my normal fire. And I cannot make it happen at will."
"You have done it before," it said, taking another step forward, closing the small distance between them, all while its smile stayed in place, but its voice grew irritated, "and it is not will."
"I have not-"
The fairy's hand shot out, forcing her to take a reflexive step backward, her back thudding against a tree. Rather than strike her, it pressed its hand against the wood by her head and moved its face close to hers.
"Who are you?" it growled, its grin showing nothing but teeth.
"I am a sister," she answered without hesitation, pressing her wand to its middle, noting with no small amount of pleasure that Harry's was right there beside hers.
The anger faltered, and it glanced down at the wands, then pushed Harry's dismissively to the side.
"A sister...yes. A powerful connection. More powerful for now," it said, eying the wand with distrust, "but fading back to normal soon."
It waited for her question, its eyes fixed on her wand until she lowered it to her side. Since the fairy appeared mollified, she allowed herself a moment to think, to try to focus and regain some modicum of control. Harry had been right, she had hoped to find a fairy in her limited travels, and had been wandering the woods when she'd received the horrible news about his relatives. It had been so easy to leave, no matter how distraught she'd been feeling.
Then boiling anger had been what sparked the first bit of blue fire in her normal flames. If rage was what sparked it…it would always be dangerous. If she had to become that thing to use it reliably…
"How do I control that thing inside me?"
A derisive snort from the fairy was her answer and she felt Harry sag slightly in her hand. She stared at him and he shrugged, wincing with the motion.
"It's just you," he said simply.
"There's no secret to be had there," it said. "Veela indeed."
Something in her heart trembled dangerously, and she pushed it as far down as she could manage. They'd have time later. Once they were gone from this place. She had to focus and get answers so she could help Harry.
But that horrible avian thing inside her…
She had to focus. To take control. She'd done research into fairies.
Focus.
"Why does your kind hide from us?" she asked instead, hoping for a slight diversion to gather her thoughts. The fairy was far ahead of her in the gathering information game they were playing.
The dark eyebrows shot up, then it shrugged glimmering shoulders.
"They have forgotten us," it said. "So self-absorbed."
"According to our legends, you are much the same."
Its smile grew wide again.
"But what's not to like? Their kind is wretched, mine is beautiful." It nodded to her. "Yet you stand in both worlds. A member of neither. Fitful power for an indecisive child. Power to soar the infinite skies and scorch the land below you at your whim, yet you play at being a simple human."
"That is not me," she insisted. "This is me."
It laughed aloud, a strange melodic tinkling sound.
"If I had known you were an idiot, I'd not have let you in. My question to you is: How have you so completely denied a part of yourself?"
She gaped at it, a sharp stab of hurt sliding through her heart when Harry turned to look at her, curious.
"It is not me," she whispered. "So full of fury and hatred."
"It is your passion," the fairy said, its eyes boring into her. "It's as much a part of you as your anger, your fear, or your love."
XxX
Delacour Manor rang with the deafening sound of breaking glass.
XxX
She had to remember to breathe. A crushing weight all her own pressed in on her chest, driving the air from her lungs. It was a trick or a lie. That thing couldn't just be…then she'd be the one…
Focus.
There would be time later.
Focus.
She took in a deep breath, choosing each word carefully before she let them leave her lips.
"How can I free Harry from that thing that was put inside him?"
Harry jerked beneath her hand at her question and peered over at her, but she kept her gaze locked on the fairy, who, shockingly, fidgeted.
"That's too much," it said, its eyes darting to scan the woods around them. "Unparalleled destruction is your gift. Where others enchant and empathize and the covens ensnare…your line destroys. Too much power."
The fear that blossomed in her at its words found a home tucked away with everything else she would need to deal with later. She was too close to stumble and lose her opportunity for answers.
Another deep breath.
"A deal then."
The fairy froze its jittery movement, its eyes darting to somewhere over her shoulder, the light on its body shifting to a horribly familiar blue hue.
"A deal?" it echoed, before tearing its gaze back to her and running its eyes up and down her body. "There is little you will give me," it said, its smile shrinking. "You will not give me your name, nor his…"
A shudder rolled through Harry and he leaned in to whisper.
"Is this a good idea? Don't they try to trick you into giving them your firstborn or something?"
All at once, the fairy was in front of them, the hem of Fleur's dress brushing its blue shimmering feet.
"No," it said, sparing Harry a withering glance. "A sweet girl, but trouble."
It reached a hand over Fleur's shoulder and carefully drew her hair forward. Though she knew it wouldn't hurt in the way that could really wound her, not from someone she trusted so little, her body still tensed in response and she had to suppress the urge to dig her wand into its stomach.
But instead of her hair, it drew forward the shifting ribbon, letting its silken length pass through its fingers.
"I will take this," it said. "Such great change affected by such a small thing. The potential for futures of misery, staved off by a thin piece of fabric."
She stared at him, forcing her mind to work.
"If you take it," she said, ignoring the small sound of her heart breaking at the thought of giving up such an important gift, "you get only the ribbon. No memories, no feelings. Just the fabric."
It made a face, its gaze again shifting off into the distance while the blue that shimmered across its skin shifted to bright, vibrant orange.
"The magic as well," it said. "My wife is quite cross with me because of some silly disagreement, and will enjoy the colors."
"Just the color-changing magic," she clarified.
It laughed.
"Deal."
She pocketed her wand, reached behind her head with her free hand, and pulled the bow loose with a tug. The color settled on a deep blue as it rested in her hand before she let it fall into the fairy's waiting grasp.
With a sudden motion, it snatched the ribbon, the length spilling into a sunny yellow in its grip.
"Connection," it said, draping the ribbon over its shoulders. "Like that ugly stick to your sister."
It pointed over at Harry.
"And him, to all those black threads."
"But how?" she asked, trying to keep her frustration under control.
It grinned, its teeth a stark white against the shifting orange and yellows of its skin.
"Who are you?" it asked, pressing a finger into her sternum before turning to Harry. "And who are you?"
It held her gaze a moment, then looked off into the distance.
"You have somewhere to be," it said, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. "Come visit again. You're far more interesting than the last four that wandered through my domain."
With a strength that such a thing with sparkling arms shouldn't have possessed, it shoved them backwards, the tree that had been behind her vanishing as they stumbled and fell.
The all-encompassing warmth that had filled her vanished the moment she hit the ground, the cool familiar air of the French countryside taking its place. Harry gasped and began to cough.
She'd only gotten partially upright when she noticed the flickering orange light hadn't vanished and had instead been painted across the treeline in front of her. Dimly, she came aware of the acrid stench of smoke filling her nostrils.
She turned to peer through the trees in time to see the roof of her parent's manor collapse in a burst of flame and sparks. A shimmering green skull hung in the air above with a rictus, taunting grin.
XxX
"Fleur!"
The shout burned at his throat, his body still filled with the lingering pain of pressure. He scrambled to his feet, his shoes sliding in the dirt and leaves of the woodland floor.
She darted between the trees towards the burning house with none of the elegant grace she had possessed before. Her dress caught on roots and saplings, ripped on bushes and thorns as she passed, heedless of any impediment. Her hair flared behind her as the rush of blistering air from the collapsing roof filtered through the trees.
He too felt the tug and sting of branch and thorn, awkward footfalls sending spikes of pain up his ankles. The scent of smoke filled his lungs with each pumping breath while his hand dug into his pocket, fumbling for the little toy dog Sirius had given him.
She stopped just outside the treeline, the light of the inferno playing across her skin and tattered dress, the flowing bottom torn and limp against the ground. He held the toy out to her, though she didn't acknowledge it, or him.
"We have to go," he said, grabbing her arm. "What if the Death Eaters are still here?"
"W-what if they-" she whispered, her hand raising towards the carcass of the home in front of her.
"They got out," he said with as much certainty as he could muster.
"I will check," she said, pulling free of his grip and rushing towards the building.
"You're not fireproof!" he shouted after her.
Anything else he was going to say was cut by answering angry shouts from the front of the blazing house that set his heart to thundering. He ran after her, the shouted voices drawing closer, though she took no note, her gait unbroken as she waded into the searing radiant heat from the blaze.
Heat hit him as a near-solid wall, the snaps of wood and the shattering of windows filling the whirling air around him with a cacophony of painful sound. Fleur pressed forward, her ripped dress churning behind her as she strode through the heat.
Voices called from behind them, triumphant and far too near.
In a panic fueled by images of her charred skin and the torturous screams that rang throughout a graveyard, he surged forward and lunged, pressing the portkey to her back as his momentum brought them both to the ground.
"Escape!"
There was a tug behind his navel and the burning remains of Delacour Manor vanished from view.
The floor they tumbled onto was hard and unyielding, and Fleur whirled on him the moment she got her bearings.
"My family-!"
"Fleur!"
"Harry!"
Before Fleur could finish, they were engulfed in a mass of arms and bodies that pulled them into frantic embraces. It wasn't until he'd been pulled into a rough hug against Sirius's bony chest that Harry's thoughts began to catch up. Beside him, Fleur clung to Gabrielle, her face buried atop her little sister's head.
"What happened?" he asked, pulling back to look up at Sirius's drawn face.
"Death Eater attack," Sirius said, pulling back and scanning the small gaggle of people crowded around them.
Harry felt a strong hand grasp his shoulder and he turned to find Sebastian smiling down at him.
"We had a warning," Sirius continued, nodding his head towards the couch. Harry turned and froze when he found Malfoy sitting on the sofa, his arms crossed and skin paler than usual.
Harry opened his mouth to ask, but a tense question from Fleur snapped it shut.
"Where is Maman?"
"Asleep upstairs," Gabrielle answered. "You should have seen her in there."
"Is she okay?" Harry asked.
"Just tired," the older man answered, his own eyes droopy and bloodshot. "As are we all. Now that we know the two of you are safe, we should all get some sleep."
No sooner had the words left Sebastian's mouth that Harry felt the bone-deep weariness he'd been ignoring rise to the surface. A glance at the clock showed that it was nearly three, but…that couldn't be right.
"I am going to check on Maman."
"I'll come too," Gabrielle said, grabbing Fleur's hand and pulling her out of the room.
"And I shall follow," Sebastian said, again squeezing Harry's shoulder. "I cannot tell you how relieved I am to see you, Harry."
He turned to look up at Sirius.
"Thanks again for allowing us to stay."
"Stay as long as you need."
When Sebastian had left the room, Sirius turned to focus on Draco. The pale skin of his face drew down into a deep frown and his gray eyes darted from Harry to Sirius.
"They'll kill me if I go back," he blurted into the silence. "A-and you have to help my mother. She saved you, you know."
"I know."
"So then what are you going to do about it?"
"Right this second?" Sirius asked, running a hand through his hair. "Try to get some sleep and see what we can come up with tomorrow with Dumbledore. I don't have to tell you that rushing a house as heavily warded as yours on a whim would be suicide, and that's ignoring the army that lives there."
"I can get you in," Draco pressed. "We apparate nearby, I walk you through the wards, and we find where she's being kept. After we get her out…you can do whatever," he said with a shrug. "We could even disable the keystone for you to attack."
"We would be found and killed and you know it," Sirius said.
He glanced down at Harry and placed a hand on his shoulder, then looked back up at Draco.
"You're welcome to stay until term starts or I can talk to Andromeda for you. It's likely to be less crowded at her place. Either way, you're staying here tonight. The Delacours are spread out across the third floor, so feel free to take any room on the fourth or fifth. Just be sure to avoid the last on the left on the fourth. There's a boggart in there."
Harry almost took a step back when Malfoy's pleading eyes landed on him.
"They'll kill her, Potter. Convince him to do something."
"I-"
"They won't," Sirius said. "She's more valuable alive."
"They're going to torture her," Draco said, his voice cracking under the strain of his plea.
Sirius's hand twitched on Harry's shoulder.
"There's nothing we can do. Find a room and try to get some sleep. Otherwise, I'll stun you myself and carry you up to bed."
Draco darted a glance over at the fireplace, then jumped when Sirius spoke.
"Floo's locked down. No-one in or out tonight, except by portkey."
"Guess I'm a hostage in a smaller, shittier house now," Malfoy snapped, before rising to his feet and stalking from the room.
A few moments later, Harry made to head to his own bedroom but was stopped when Sirius's hand on his shoulder didn't relent.
"Sirius?" he asked when nothing was said.
"Why didn't you answer your mirror?" Sirius asked, placing his other hand on Harry's shoulder. "You have it on you, don't you? You said you did."
Harry patted his pockets, his hand brushing both his wand and the mirror Sirius hadn't let him put down for weeks.
"I didn't hear you," he said lamely. "We weren't…it's a long story."
"One I'll be asking for tomorrow."
Sirius focused his unblinking gaze on Harry and let his hands and the stern facade drop.
"I thought you were dead or captured or something," he said, running a hand across his face. "I'm a hair's breadth away from locking you in your room and keeping you there till this war is over. The stress of them coming after you is going to kill me."
The distraught tone and grimace that crossed his godfather's face twisted at Harry's heart and he tried to smile.
"You get used to it after a while."
"For fuck's sake," Sirius half-laughed, half-groaned. "That's got to be the worst attitude I've ever heard. Go to bed. We'll talk tomorrow."
Nodding, Harry tried not to hurry from the room, leaving his godfather to sink down onto the couch, his head in his hands.
When he made it up to the second floor, he found Fleur leaning against the wall next to his bedroom door, her head tilted back so she could stare at the ceiling. She didn't notice him until he was only a few steps away.
"How's your mum?" he asked.
"Tired, but she is okay."
An odd expression flitted across her face, one Harry couldn't place.
"I'm glad." He pushed open the door and waved her inside.
His room was just as he had left it that morning in his excitement, a morning which felt as though it had taken place years ago. His bed was unmade and his pajamas were still strewn across his dresser. An oddity caught his eye and he crossed the room to the other side of his bed where his nightstand sat.
Atop it, between the picture Fleur had given him for Christmas and the quill and inkwell he used almost nightly, was a pile of gray ash, strewn across the tabletop.
He could do little more than stare at what had been their special notepaper, what little energy he'd had left sapped by the discovery. He sank onto the bed, trying to keep his heartbreak from showing.
"What is wrong?" Fleur asked, following his path around the bed, then freezing when she caught sight of the ash. "Oh."
She lowered herself onto his bed, the filthy and torn hem of her dress falling in clumps around her bare feet.
Silence descended around them, one so complete that if he couldn't feel the heat of her next to him and see her in his periphery, he'd have thought he was alone.
"I am glad my family is okay," she finally said, her gaze locked on some point on the wall in front of them. "But…I thought they could be dying."
Her voice cracked, and when he turned, he saw her jaw flex.
"I thought they were dying and you forced me away."
He stared at her profile, though he took little note. His mind was sluggish with exhaustion and the simple answer was slow in coming.
"Would you have done something else?" he asked. "If it was me?"
At that, she turned to look at him, then slowly shook her head.
"No. Damn it."
"I'm sorry," he said. "Death Eaters were coming and with all the fire and the thought of them getting you again…"
The visceral pain in his chest from that fear locked his throat closed before he could say more, then the skin on his side lit with warmth as she leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder.
"I know," she said. "I am glad you did what you did. You saved us. It has all been…a bit much."
"No kidding."
Though his eyes pleaded with him to close while his body wanted nothing more than to collapse backwards, his mind could do nothing more than replay the final hours of his birthday.
Crushing cold and blinding light that had only dissipated with the heat of Fleur's hand, an anchor and relief through the pain. The searing pain in his head that thrummed discordant notes throughout his body. And a dance so enchanting that he no longer had to wonder what those under her thrall felt when they looked upon her.
He would have done anything for her in that moment. Given her anything.
And he had.
In the seconds before unknown power had joined in his hand and burst through the blazing core of her wand, he had spoken words he'd dreamed of speaking aloud. They had burst from him in an uncontainable torrent that had awakened every nerve in his body with its passing. They left him raw, vulnerable, and so very secure in her hands.
She shifted on the bed next to him, her head raising to plant a gentle kiss on his cheek, the lingering warmth cooling his skin as it dissipated.
"I can tell when you think about me that way, you know," she murmured, kissing him again when he turned to look at her.
"As my girlfriend?"
Her smile blossomed and she shook her head.
"That is not nearly as distinct as this."
Where he'd expected the first utterance to be a dam burst open, he found instead that bashfulness stole away what he wanted to say, hiding it behind warm cheeks. The first moment he realized he wanted to say it, he discovered he'd wanted to speak it aloud for months. Small opportunities had passed him by while he'd been unable to form the words.
Now he'd spoken them, and almost nothing had changed.
Nothing had changed in the way each step was another closer, another more intimate and tightly bound. Nothing had changed in the way that a thousand tiny steps forward brought them from distant, shy interest to a love so potent it pulsed through his veins to the beat of his heart.
He had expected such great change. To look up and see a new person, or to find one reflected back at him; older, wiser, one more stable and in control.
But when he looked up he saw just her. The bright, azure flecked eyes with a depth of love so intense shining back at him that he was certain he could sense it himself. The deep, turbulent blue of twilight, painted through with the fire of sunrise.
A single eyebrow quirked, adding a twinkling starlight glint to the sky of her eyes.
"I can feel nothing else," she breathed out, a hand reaching out to his chest, his heart drawing in her warmth.
She held his gaze and the glint fell away into a plea.
"Say it again. Without enchantment or otherworldly insanity."
He obliged.
"I love you."
Her hand fisted in his shirt and pulled him against her. She pressed her mouth to his, drinking deep of whatever it was she needed.
She drew back, the pleading look replaced by a frown.
"Even…even if what the fairy said was true…and all that fury is-"
She swallowed.
"-is mine?"
He nodded and her frown drew even deeper.
"But we are the...destructive Veela." She spat the bitter word.
He kept quiet for a long moment, doing his best to order his thoughts enough to give her a proper answer.
"I'm not afraid of you," he finally said, earning himself a pointed, unblinking stare. "Not now and not when you're changed. It's hard to describe…"
She looked at him, then said in the smallest voice he'd ever heard from her, "Can you try?"
"You…look at me the same," he said, wishing he were able to put to words the utter surety he felt when seeing her transformation. "You sort of…talk the same, even though it's…different sounding."
She nodded slowly, though he could see the apprehension still lingering in her.
He plowed on.
"You're really gentle."
That earned him a scoff.
"You have been present both times I have been uniquely un-gentle."
"You're gentle with me," he said, pushing with whatever reserves of energy he had left to force his brain to obey his desire and finally articulate what he felt in his heart. "I don't think it'd be any different if you'd had your wand. Wouldn't you have dueled Krum until you won and he was unconscious? Wouldn't you have done whatever you had to in order to stop Barty Crouch?"
Her nod that time was a little more agreeable.
He pressed forward.
"You're not needlessly violent. You don't torture people like they do. You're protective. It's why I feel safe with you, instead of scared."
Instead of nod, she leaned forward and kissed him again, her lips a slow brush against his. When she pulled away, she let out a breath that seemed to come from her core, taking with it what was left of the tension and energy that kept her moving.
"I love you too, Darling," she said, grinning when her affectation made him jump.
It felt so strange to hear something other than his altered name pass her lips, but it was tempered by the knowledge she had chosen it for him, the same as she had chosen him.
She glanced up towards the top of the bed, then back to him.
"Any other night I would happily sit here exchanging affectionate words with you until morning. As it is, I am ready to sleep for two full days."
Rather than get up, she turned to crawl around him and up towards the pillows, her tattered dress dragging up the side of the bed.
Harry glanced up to the ceiling, suddenly aware of the potentially sleeping people in rooms just above them.
"Do you think your family will mind?" he asked, darting a glance over to where she was tugging her clothes beneath the covers.
She paused, then shrugged.
"Any other night, perhaps. Tonight, I do not care. I am far too tired to do anything improper."
He nodded slowly, though the thought still sent a slight jolt through his exhaustion. He glanced over to his pajamas, still strewn across his dresser, then kicked off his shoes and followed Fleur's example. She had drawn the covers up to her waist and lifted her head from the pillow, beckoning him forward. Once he got himself situated, she let her head drop onto his upper arm and tugged his hand over to her shoulder.
Even through his shirt, her deep breaths warmed the skin of his chest while her body drove her welcome heat into his bones. Her hand fumbled at her back for a moment, before she drew her wand and plunged the room into darkness with a muttered spell.
"Goodnight, my darling."
"Goodnight, Fleur."
Though he was exhausted, sleep did not come easily, nor did Fleur slip into a sleeping rhythm as quickly as she often did when they napped in the Room of Requirement. He didn't move, content to feel the pressure of her against him, her leg draped over his. Her back rose and fell beneath his arm, slow, but not deep.
With deliberate, careful movements, he slid his hand off her shoulder and up to her hair, letting his fingers trace small circles against her scalp. She nuzzled her head forward in response, pressing her forehead against his chest.
When even the slow, careful attention to her head didn't soothe her to sleep, he stuffed away what embarrassment he could and pushed through the rest as he put his chin on her head and began to hum. It didn't have the touch of the ethereal he'd both seen and heard in the woods, but he could only hope it engendered the same peace in her that it did in him, even before he'd known the words.
He continued until her breathing finally slowed into deep, rhythmic movements, then let the memory of her song carry him along with her.