Fleur crumpled her mother's letter and tossed it onto her bed where it was lost among the mountainous pile of thick blankets. Between the thinly veiled 'leave it be' and the antiquated 'Veela Charm' phrase her mother insisted on using, Fleur almost wished she had never written the letter in the first place. Pacing her room had done little to calm her irritation. She knew her mother's letter only made her angry because she was right, though the knowledge did nothing to help her settle down.
The odd evening of the Yule Ball consumed her thoughts and had turned her into a recluse for the final days of the year. At least that was what she told herself. It had been the fear frozen on his features that kept her up at night. The fear of what she was and what she could do. But he had said it was okay and had seemed to mean it.
She flopped back down on the bed, letting the same anxious worries fly through her mind as they had done most days. How could she, a Triwizard Champion, be so worried about something one person thought of her?
Her thoughts drifted to her mother's letter, and she groaned aloud.
Her mother was right. She had been so excited to have a friend.
She fell backward, sinking into the thick duvet. It was clear what she needed to do.
If she wanted to know what Harry actually thought of her and what she could do, she would need to talk to him about it.
If he even wanted to talk to her.
With a frustrated growl, she flung herself upright and snatched her heavy winter cloak from where it lay on the bed next to her. She had wasted too much time worrying. It was time to do something about it.
She flung her cloak over her shoulders and warmed it with an experienced wave of her wand. The Hogwarts students had weekends where they were allowed down in that nearby village. Maybe she could ask him to meet her there. She put on her thickest boots for trudging through the ankle-deep snow, and set out, determined.
She wandered the chilly castle for what felt like ages. The calls for her attention grew tiresome and her feet grew sore. How she missed the warm, carpeted rooms of Beauxbâtons. With quick steps, she turned down another hall, escaping one particularly dogged boy that had begun to shout as she moved out of sight.
She shook her head. What had she been thinking? Wandering the entire castle to find one person? Idiot.
Cursing her single-mindedness, she admitted defeat and spun on her heel. If she ever made it out of this maze of a building, she would just have to send him another letter.
XxX
An insistent tapping on his window made Harry look up from his reading. He was grateful for the distraction. Three other books lay strewn at his feet across the bed, each open to a different page. It was a wonder he and Hermione hadn't come up with anything to help him navigate the Black Lake.
He swung open the window to let the owl inside and stared as a second followed close behind. Both offered him their legs and he took the small letters, shutting the window after the birds took flight into the evening sky. The first held his initials in loopy writing on the front.
Harry,
I was hoping we could meet again sometime soon. I would like to continue to get to know you, and I think it might be far easier when it is just the two of us, rather than in the middle of a huge event like the Yule Ball. Would you be willing to meet me in Hogsmeade? Perhaps there is a secluded room where I will not be in danger of ensnaring others with my allure?
I hope to hear from you soon,
Fleur
Though short, her letter had still somehow managed to send his stomach into wild acrobatics. Their evening together lingered on his mind. Depending on his mood, it was either her glowing beauty in the falling snow or the unabated fear of discovery. He set it aside and opened the second letter.
Moony's house. One hour.
He almost dropped the note in shock. Sirius had made it back already?
Elation rose inside of him alongside a similar level of guilt. Sirius had been in far less danger when he was hiding out…wherever it was that he had been. But it would be good to see his godfather again. He tossed the note on the bed and dropped facedown next to it. Sirius wouldn't be coming back if he hadn't managed to get tangled in that blasted tournament. A few burns weren't worth risking a short lifetime with dementors.
Maybe he'd be able to see Sirius and convince him to go back into hiding. It would be easier once his godfather saw that he was okay.
He got up and stepped over to his trunk, pulling out a blank piece of parchment and his quill.
Fleur,
Hogsmeade sounds good. We can probably go to a place called The Hog's Head. It's usually pretty empty. We can meet in front of Honeydukes and I can show you where it is.
See you then,
-Harry
He piled the books onto his nightstand and grabbed his invisibility cloak along with the Marauder's map. He still had time to run to the owlery before meeting up with Sirius. It might be an extremely short flight but Hedwig would be glad for something to do. As he climbed through the portrait hole and sped to send his reply, he found himself more and more excited the closer he got to finally seeing his godfather again.
XxX
"There you are!" Sirius's raspy greeting made Harry jump as he closed the rickety door to the Shrieking Shack behind him. He spun to find his godfather grinning from a ratty chair in the corner of the room.
His smile lifted sunken cheeks and wrinkled the corners of dark haunted eyes. Dark, wild hair stuck up in almost every direction, an unintentional fashion mirrored by his tangled mess of a beard.
"Hello to you too," Harry replied, dropping into a wooden chair that sat opposite his godfather.
"Sorry. When you're alone for so long, it becomes easy to forget the niceties of conversation." He shrugged, lifting bony shoulders. "But that's not a good excuse. How are you? You don't look burnt to a crisp."
"Better," he said, flexing his left hand. Even the wrinkles on his knuckles had returned. "Seems like they did a pretty good job fixing me up."
Sirius nodded, scratching at his scraggly beard. "How're you holding up otherwise? With all the tournament stuff?"
Harry shifted in his seat, instinctually hiding his first answer. The true answer.
"I'm fine. The First Task is done. Only two to go. I had to go to the Ball, but it wasn't so bad really…" he trailed off as a mischievous smile lit upon Sirius's face, shedding years from his visage.
"I read about that," he said, still grinning. "The articles say you went with the Beauxbâtons champion. A Veela." He winked.
Harry nodded. "Yeah. Supposedly I'm immune to her allure, so she asked me to the Ball."
Sirius's smile faded a bit. "That's unusual. Most of the time you have to know Occlumency to ignore it like that."
"So I've heard. But what about you? How have you been? I'm not the one who's been in hiding for a year."
"Just fine," Sirius said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "It's kind of nice being back, despite the danger. A bit like laughing at the Ministry's face."
"But why are you back?" Harry asked. "You can't do the tasks with me or anything."
"No-" Sirius said, his expression souring. "No, I can't. I might be able to help you with some ideas though. I'm actually back to help Dumbledore figure out why you're in the tournament in the first place."
"Dumbledore had you come back?!"
"Not exactly…He was actually pretty upset when I showed up. He said he and Moody have it under control. He relented a little when I pointed out they hadn't made much headway at all. Dumbledore isn't entirely convinced that there's someone pulling evil strings here. Moody thinks there is but Moody's always paranoid."
"He thinks I put my name in?" Harry asked, dumbfounded. "I told him I hadn't."
"He won't say what he thinks," Sirius said. "But I'm inclined to agree with Moody.
"Call me paranoid but let's say that the enchantments on the Goblet of Fire, an artifact that's been around for hundreds and hundreds of years, are failing. And nobody has noticed. Let's say that the blasted thing spit out a name at random. The chances of those things happening, and your name being the one to come out, are astronomically small. I think it's dangerously naive to say your entry into the Tournament is simply an error. You, who have now been in life-threatening danger every single year since you started at Hogwarts."
He took a deep breath, calming the vehemence that had seeped into his tone.
"I have half a mind to pack you up and move you to Beauxbâtons once I'm cleared." He made placating gestures at the naked shock that crossed Harry's features as he finished. "I won't, I won't. I promise. I'm just frustrated for you and I needed to help."
"But you shouldn't have-"
"Shouldn't have what?" Sirius cut in, his dark eyes alight with repressed emotion. "Shouldn't have come back to help you through this? Bollocks. I've already failed you more times than I care to count. My recklessness almost got you kissed by those dementors by the lake. If it hadn't been for Dumbledore, we'd both be dead because of me. I'm not about to spend my life as a dog somewhere while you risk your life. Not happening."
Sirius dropped back into his chair, spent after having come near to standing during his tirade.
"What am I supposed to do?" Harry managed, finding his voice unacceptably brittle. "The First Task almost did me in, and there are two left!" The words poured out of him in a torrent. "For the second one, I've got to go find something in the Black Lake! I've got to learn how to breathe underwater in less than two months!" He ran a hand through his hair. "I almost died. And I've got to do it two more times. How am I supposed to manage it?"
Sirius slumped. "You've only got to survive. According to Dumbledore, you're required to participate, so there's no sitting on the sidelines waiting for the other champions to finish. Otherwise, that's what you'd be doing."
He paused and offered Harry a halfhearted smile. "You could always win the damn thing."
Harry barked out a laugh he didn't feel and let his shoulders slump, the tension bleeding from him, leaving him hollow. "I guess. Sorry."
"No need to be sorry. The situation you're in is unacceptable but there's nothing we can do about it. So, one of the things I'll be trying to do is track Peter down. Dumbledore has intel that he's back in the country. If I can get him, I can get cleared and I won't have to help you from the shadows anymore."
Harry let his features slide into placidity at the mention of the man who had helped ruin his life twice over. Pettigrew and Voldemort both had a near-to-equal hand in securing his miserable life with the Dursleys. He pushed the rage down deep. No need to let Sirius know he was upset. Besides, if Pettigrew was captured, he would finally get to move away from his relatives to live with Sirius.
"You alright?" Sirius asked.
It seemed he hadn't been quick enough at smothering his anger.
"I'm fine. There's just a lot going on. It's a lot to figure out." He forced those feelings even deeper and plastered a small smile on his face. "So, where were you staying?"
"A beach on the Mediterranean," Sirius said, perking up. "As a dog, mind you, but it was still nice, even if I couldn't enjoy the sunsets. Except for this one time-"
He regaled Harry of his adventures as a dog, and his difficulties staying up to date with what was going on in magical Britain. Harry made sure to be appropriately shocked during his retelling of an intense pursuit by a butcher for the theft of some high-dollar pork cuts.
The evening wore into night and he grew more engrossed with each one of his godfather's dramatic stories. It was almost enough to make him forget about Peter and the tournament.
Almost.
XxX
The main thoroughfare of Hogsmeade was filled with students, even with the frigid January air and light snow. They bustled from shop to shop, often holding steaming cups of tea or Madam Rosmerta's new Firecider, her new non-alcoholic alternative to firewhiskey. Harry wished for a mug of his own, even if to stave off the cold from his icy fingers.
He rubbed his hands together and blew on them, his foggy breath seeping through the thin too-large gloves he'd grabbed from the bottom of his trunk. As he did almost every winter, he made a mental note to check Hogsmeade for a clothing shop, even if just to get new gloves and a cap. A wind blew a stark reminder across his bare ears, and it carried with it the friendly hum of conversation all around him.
He found himself regretting his choice of meeting locations as a line began to form to get into the cramped shop. Couples made their way through the sweets shop, perusing the shelves hand in hand. One such pair wandered up, two seventh-years that were far too busy staring at each other to notice they had stopped directly in front of Harry. He fought down an odd mix of annoyance and loneliness as the girl went up onto her toes to kiss her boyfriend on the cheek.
He stepped around them and moved over to the other side of the storefront, next to an alley that ran between it and Scrivenshafts next door. It should have been easy to be irritated with couples like that, but he found himself simply jealous instead.
The wind picked up, this time carrying with it shouts and calls distinctly at odds with the normal conversation that buzzed around him. He craned his neck to see the source of the commotion and found a flash of silver hair blowing in the breeze. She strode ahead of a forming crowd, each person calling to her, the occasional hand reaching toward her.
She noticed him as she neared, and he could see the small empty smile resting below pleading eyes. It shifted to one of relief as he raised a hand. An idea had taken vague shape in his mind and he waved her over. She diverted from the middle of the street, her following admirers close behind. He stared at them as she approached. It was impossible to miss the glassy eyes and occasional calls for attention that her allure usually engendered but it had never been anything so…significant.
He fumbled a frozen hand into his robes and extracted his invisibility cloak. He nodded his head to the alley next to him. Once he saw her confused acknowledgment and she drew near, he held the invisibility cloak out to her.
She didn't say anything as she grabbed the cloak from his outstretched hand and continued down the narrow alley, the breeze from her passing carrying the now-familiar scent of cinnamon. A moment later he was jostled out of the way as the crowd tried to cram themselves into the alley, their shouts mingling with grunts as they bumped into each other.
Abruptly, much to Harry's complete surprise, the mob stopped moving and stood still for a moment, blinking at each other. They began to disperse amongst murmurs of 'pardon me' and 'bugger off'. After the majority of Fleur's followers left, Harry slipped down the alley and out of sight.
A few steps down a smaller alley that ran behind Honeydukes a muffled sob arose from near to the ground. His gaze followed a pair of footprints over to where they stopped near a wall.
He wasn't often on the other side of his cloak and had to admit, if he hadn't known what to look for, he would never have known she was there were it not for the soft sounds of crying. The invisibility was perfect, and he couldn't even see a ripple to give her away but he could see the indents in the snow where she was sitting with her feet pulled close.
"Fleur?" he asked the empty air.
A loud sniff answered him before her watery voice floated up from where she sat. "What is this?" she asked, her voice fragile.
"It's my invisibility cloak."
"No simple invisibility cloak does what yours just did."
"I don't know much about it," he answered, shrugging. "It was my father's. I've never even seen another one, so I can't really compare."
He heard the crunch of snow as she shifted, a handprint appearing next to where she had been sitting. She sniffled again and let out a long breath. He stared in the general direction of the noise, finding it odd to talk to someone he couldn't see.
"A family heirloom…" she muttered.
He didn't reply. She undoubtedly knew the story of the Boy-Who-Lived, and he suspected she would know how much his father's cloak meant to him.
"I suppose it would be too much to ask to borrow it from time to time," she asked, though he could tell she didn't have high hopes for her request.
"Maybe…depends what for."
"For this," she answered, some of her melancholy fading to wonder. "'Arry, I am quite good at the disillusionment charm. I am sure I do not need to explain why I would prefer to be unseen at times." He could only nod, her rapid speech leaving no room for comment. "I am, unfortunately, still not proficient enough to hide fully when my allure is at its strongest. I have never gone from so many affected people to complete anonymity so suddenly."
She paused a moment and he heard a rustling of fabric.
"Can you really not see me at all?" she asked. The rustling grew louder and he smiled. She was probably waving at him, as was most people's first experiment when testing their newfound invisibility.
"Not even a ripple in the air," he answered, cognizant of the fact he appeared to be standing in an alley, talking to no-one, like a lunatic.
Ron and Hermione deserved an apology for years of similar treatment.
The two of them needed to go to the Hog's Head and get out of the cold but…there was no way they could go without her staying invisible the entire time, and he didn't fancy looking as though he were talking to himself in the dingy pub.
Fleur's playful voice cut through his thoughts, garnering a smile. "What about this?" she asked.
He grinned at the unexpected side of his new friend. Footsteps twirled through the snow in a circle around him and he turned to match her. They stopped a moment later.
"I can see your footsteps," he explained, pointing to the ground.
Years of experience with the cloak taught him that winter was its weakest season as both the snow on the ground and the silhouette created when it fell were dead giveaways for the wearer.
"I see…" She paused for a moment before speaking again. "Could I keep it on for a little while longer? I do not think we can go to the inn today, not with…well, not with so many people."
"The classrooms are mostly deserted on the weekends," he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. "We can probably find one."
"So long as it has a fireplace, that sounds perfect," she said, a shiver rolling through her words.
He turned and led her back out to the crowded street, trying to take the least congested route he could find. The cloak couldn't do its job properly if she got constantly bumped around. His methods were effective, and he wouldn't have known she was still there were it not for her quiet pleased giggles every time someone came near without noticing her.
Another giggle brought a smile of his own to his face. He couldn't help but feel uniquely privileged to discover such a different side to Fleur as the one that had worn her impersonal, empty smile.
He led her through the crowd, finally able to stop weaving through people as they drew nearer to the castle. They trudged through the packed snow up the path to the castle, the only sign that she was still behind him being the crunch of her feet out of time with his own. He stomped the snow off his boots once they made it into the entryway, using the cobbles on the steps to make sure his boots were snow-free. No need to give Mrs. Norris or Filch a reason to follow them.
They found a suitable room on the second floor. Rather than a classroom, it appeared to be an unused office. A fireplace sat at the back of the smaller room, a couple of split logs resting on the andiron set inside the stone hearth.
Harry waited for her quiet, "I'm inside," before closing the door to the room. As the door clicked shut, a fire sprang to life in the hearth, heating the chilly room with its tall flames. He stood for a moment, immobilized by the fog formed on his glasses. They cleared slowly, exposing a still-empty room.
"Er…Fleur…"
"What?"
Her reply came from just next to him on his left, causing him to jump in surprise.
"Oh…yes," she said with a sigh.
The air next to him shimmered as she removed the cloak, her dark blue winter robes becoming visible from the bottom first as she pulled it over her head. She ran a hand through her hair once she was free of the garment in an attempt to detach it from the robe.
He laughed as he took it back.
"It's clingy, I know," he said, watching as she attempted to cajole her long hair back into its normal, smooth state.
Single strands of its silvery length stuck out into the warm air.
"More trouble than it is worth sometimes," she grumbled, pulling a long length of black ribbon from her robes. She tied it in a bow at the base of her neck, forming a long loose ponytail.
He stuffed the cloak back into his robes, aware that he was staring. The very thing she had been so keen to avoid.
"That is amazing," she said, pulling a chair near to the roaring fire. "I have never seen another like it. It was your father's?"
He nodded, relaxing a little now the heirloom was back in his possession. "Why were all those people after you?" he asked in an attempt to change the subject. Questions about his parents almost inevitably led to similar questions about his current living situation. "It was way more than usual."
"It was the allure," she answered, irritated. "As it always is. Sometimes it is weaker, sometimes it is stronger."
Sensing treacherous territory, he clamped down on the rest of his questions, offering her time to relax. A log in the fireplace popped, spewing a handful of sparks onto the stone mantle. She stared at the fading embers.
"I have never been so completely invisible," she said, the last word a breathy whisper. "Everywhere I go, no matter what I do, there are eyes on me. Always. I am either alone, or I am watched." She sighed. "Except around my family," she amended, a sad smile curving her lips. "My sister will experience it soon."
"I didn't know you had a sister."
She looked up from the mantle, her blue eyes reflecting the firelight. "Gabrielle is twelve, and has been my only friend since she was old enough to talk." Her eyes widened and she blushed. "Ah. Until recently, that is. I am sorry."
She pushed a stray hair away from the side of her face, tucking it behind an ear.
"They will be here to see the Second Task. I cannot wait for them to arrive. This was my first Christmas away from home. I had to promise I would be there next year."
"I bet they'll be glad to see you," he said.
"Is your family coming?" she asked, the inevitable question making him tense beneath his robes.
"No. They're not."
"Oh, that is a shame."
"They don't like magic much," he said, launching into his usual explanation that he had learned would prevent further questions.
He fought against the downward spiral mention of the Dursleys often had on his mood.
"I live with my aunt and uncle. They're muggles."
She simply nodded, perhaps sensing the delicate topic. He hoped not.
"So why did you want to meet?"
"I…" She faltered, her gaze dropping to her lap where her hands fiddled with the end of her ponytail. "I realized our evening during the Yule Ball was made awkward by my abilities, and I did not want to leave it at that for too long. I was not joking about wanting to be friends. Part of being friends is spending time together." She forced her hands still. "I was thinking…if it would make you more comfortable, I can let you know the moment it happens. If it happens again."
Her words sank slowly through his mind as he tried to wrestle with his conflicting feelings. His mouth twitched in an attempt at a smile. It was probably a good thing she couldn't feel the utter mess that was his emotions. It wouldn't do to burden a new friend with what had to be a maelstrom coming from him.
"That's…good," he managed through the still-hazy worries in his mind. No matter how he examined the thoughts, they didn't make sense. How could she discern his secrets from his emotions of all things? But no matter how much scrutiny the fears were placed under, they persisted.
She smiled at his tentative reply and nodded. "I want you to be comfortable, and that was all I could come up with."
"It's just…not something I'm used to," he said, trying to be delicate. "It may never happen again."
"That is true," she said, again chewing at her lip. "I…I do not know what else to say. I want to enjoy our time together but I do not know what to talk about."
"Well…" he trailed off. Small talk had never been his strong suit. "What about your sister? Does she go to Beauxbâtons too?"
Fleur nodded, a wide smile parting the anxiety that had covered her perfect features. "She does, and she is incredible. Top of her class the last two years…"
XxX
Gabrielle sailed through the air, impacting on Fleur's messy bed and rebounding into the air. She rolled over once she settled and sat up. "It's so small!"
Fleur smiled down at her sister and nodded. She had been a bundle of energy ever since arriving by Floo in Headmaster Dumbledore's office and the walk to the Beauxbâtons carriages had done little to dispel her energy. Fleur suspected that was the real reason their mother had begged off to the guest cabins after leaving the castle, or one of the reasons, anyway.
"It's not that small," she said, dropping down onto the bed beside her sister.
"It's smaller than the dorms at school and much smaller than your special room."
"That is true," she said.
"Deputy Headmistress Gardinier said that I'll get my own room next year," Gabrielle said, grinning. "Probably yours, since you'll be graduating."
"Is that so?"
"I can't wait! No more of Mirabelle's dreadful snoring."
"The private rooms certainly have their perks," Fleur said, affecting nonchalance.
She mentally thanked her mother for the letter she had sent ahead of their arrival. Gabrielle had recently received 'the talk' about being Veela and everything it entailed. Her younger sister had danced around the topic already during their walk and had confided in Fleur that she had only paid partial attention to their well-meaning but occasionally overbearing mother.
Much as Fleur herself had done years before.
"They have four houses here," she said instead. Gabrielle would bring it up if she wanted to. "There are separate dorms for each year, split into boys and girls."
"Which one is Harry in?"
Fleur let out a quiet sigh. She should have expected as much. Gabrielle had mentioned wanting to meet him in her last letter but she hadn't had a chance to say anything to Harry since receiving it. She suspected he was busy preparing for the Second Task much as she had been.
"Gryffindor."
"And when will we see him?"
"After the Second Task, I expect," Fleur said, her sister's boundless energy already wearing on her. "I imagine that he is busy preparing."
"That makes sense…" Gabrielle trailed off, looking around the admittedly small quarters. "Where did Papa go?"
"Headmaster Dumbledore asked him to stay behind." She might have reprimanded her sister for her lack of attention but she had been firmly attached to Fleur's waist at the time, lamenting her lonely Christmas.
XxX
The door clicked shut behind his family and Sebastian Delacour slumped into the conjured chair offered to him.
"I will not keep you for long, Ambassador. I was simply hoping for an update on my request." Dumbledore lowered himself down into his ornate chair behind his desk and let out a long sigh. "I doubt it has been easy for you."
Sebastian shook his head and rubbed at the corners of his eyes. "We haven't had much success at either venture," he said. "Pettigrew continues to elude us, though he hasn't made contact with any of the Death Eaters we have under surveillance. Either he's deep underground or managed to flee the country.
"We've had slightly more success with the mystery Death Eaters from the World Cup. We know, unofficially, that Malfoy's group were the instigators and the ones that cast the first Dark Mark. They weren't, however, the ones who killed Ashye…They weren't the ones who killed her and took Mariika's wand. As far as we were able to discern, they kept the wand. We haven't been able to narrow down the list of suspects. All of Voldemort's followers that were so brutal are either dead or in Azkaban."
"It is progress, at least," Dumbledore said, his eyes narrowing behind his spectacles. "I would ask you to focus your efforts on locating and apprehending Peter Pettigrew. There have been some developments that make his capture a priority." He rose from his seat and stepped around his desk. "I apologize for asking this of you when I know your transition into the Ambassadorship has not been as effortless as it should be. Please know that I would not ask were it not vitally important."
Sebastian scoffed. "It's been something alright." He grunted as he pushed himself out of his chair, grimacing at the noise. He sounded like his father. "Fudge and his team have been efficient in blocking my inquiries on behalf of the ICW. I'll say one thing for him, he knows how to keep the loyalists close, no matter how overzealous they are."
"Yes, he has surrounded himself with some rather intense individuals. I hope none of them will be too problematic."
"You and me both," Sebastian grumbled, allowing himself to be led to the office door.
"I will not keep you from your family any longer. Thank you for your time and your excellent efforts on our behalf."
"Ah. Thank you, sir." Sebastian straightened as he spoke.
Years in government work had taught him to avoid being star-struck by high-ranking officials, but being paid a direct compliment from Albus Dumbledore was another thing entirely. He couldn't help but preen a little.
Reinvigorated by the opportunity to see his eldest daughter for the first time in too many months, he followed Dumbledore's directions down to the carriages.
"Papa!" Gabrielle's excited shout rang through the room the moment he opened the door. Fleur spun to face him, a wide smile on her features. She crossed the room in two quick steps and into a hug.
"It is so good to see you," he said, giving her a squeeze for emphasis. "We were sick with worry after hearing about the First Task."
She pulled away, offering a wan smile. "I was fortunate I could use one aspect of my abilities to calm the beast. I am not so lucky for the Second Task."
"What is it?" Gabrielle asked from her place on the bed.
"I have to retrieve something special to me from the bottom of the lake."
"That stinks," she commented brightly. "What is it?"
"I don't know yet. They didn't tell us."
"I think they're going to ask us about it," her father said, nodding to Gabrielle. "Madame Maxime has asked us for a short interview later tonight." He looked back to Fleur. "So you had better go see your mother. She wanted to talk with you before, but wasn't quite up to being outside for longer than she had to be."
Fleur nodded, catching the implication. Gabrielle, however, was completely oblivious. "She should have just come with us. She seemed fine on the way here."
"Well, maybe," Sebastian said, fixing her with 'the look,' "if you listened more than you spoke, you would know what we are talking about."
Gabrielle groaned at the admonition and flopped back onto the bed. It was a common phrase for her, though more often in jest than a serious rebuke. Fleur found herself agreeing with her father though. It would seem her sister had told the truth when she said she hadn't been listening. She groaned inwardly, sure her mother would ask her to speak to Gabrielle.
"You had better get going," her father said, his tone serious. She frowned. It must be important if it couldn't wait until they had spent a little more time together.
An unhappy groan sounded from the bed.
"Gabrielle and I are going to explore the grounds a little while the sun is still out. Isn't that right?"
"Take an extra cloak," Fleur advised her sister. "These Scottish winters are terrible." She had grown a little more accustomed to the chill during her time at Hogwarts but she had never fully gotten used to the cold, even back home.
XxX
"Fleur! Oh, Fleur!" Her mother barreled into her, arms wrapping tightly around her in a firm hug. "It is so good to see you well."
"It's good to see you too, Maman," Fleur said, stepping back from the tight embrace. "I'm whole, as you can see."
"Even so, we were heartsick when we heard. How is Harry doing?"
Fleur felt the blood leave her face as images of his charred body intruded into her thoughts, charred skin, and exposed muscle filling the tent with a horrid stench. She tried to focus on her mother instead.
"He's well. Busy practicing, I assume."
"As you have been, I expect." Apolline stood back and crossed her arms, her expression hardening.
"What's your plan?"
"Bubble-head charm."
"Show me."
Fleur rolled her eyes and dutifully produced her wand. Her mother had always been too serious when she was worried but the knowledge didn't make it any less grating. With a wave, a bubble sprang into existence around her head, blocking the ambient noise from the wind blowing across the carriage.
"Well done," Apolline said, inspecting the bubble. She poked at the nebulous surface, smiling in satisfaction when the charm didn't dissipate at the contact. "Strong structure for a non-verbal cast. Very well done."
Fleur canceled the spell, smiling at the praise.
"How are you going to account for the cold? You'll be at an extreme disadvantage."
"I know I will," she answered, trying to keep the budding irritation from her reply. "I can cast the warming charm wordlessly as well, though I doubt it will work if I am in there for too long. If I need to, I can draw on my fire."
Apolline nodded, pursing her lips. "I doubt there is much else you can do." She hesitated a moment, and Fleur could hear the question before it was asked. "Have you spoken much with your sister?"
She wasn't entirely successful at suppressing her groan.
"Don't be like that," her mother chastised. "You know this is important. It's going to be an integral part of her life soon, and she's not taking it seriously. I bet she didn't even notice the difference in the way people acted when we were at the British Ministry and passing through the castle!"
Fleur winced, unable to deny the accusation. The ups and downs of a mother of two's allure weren't as significant as Fleur's were but they were still plenty noticeable. Either Gabrielle was being extremely obtuse, or she was oblivious.
Her irritation faltered. It was one thing to experience the challenges being Veela brought upon herself, it was entirely another to watch someone she loved step into such a lonely, superficial world.
"I know I need to talk to her," she finally admitted. "It's just going to be so…"
"Awkward?"
Fleur chuckled mirthlessly. "Yes, but no. It's going to be hard."
Her mother's stern demeanor softened, her eyes becoming gentle and a little misty. "It is hard," she said, reaching a hand up to cup Fleur's cheek.
She closed her eyes and leaned into the contact. Despite how easily her mother could get under her skin, it was nice to be with her again. "I'll talk to her." Her trepidation fell far short of her duty to do her best to help her sister grow into her heritage as painlessly as possible.
"Thank you. She's heard it enough from me and just tunes me out now. It'll mean more coming from you."
Fleur offered a wan smile, unsure if she'd prefer the lake or the coming conversation.
XxX
She found her opportunity to talk to Gabrielle the day before the Second Task. The twenty-third was a cold, snowy day but the tense excitement surrounding the Task had boiled over, and the grounds around the Black Lake were a hive of activity. She and Gabrielle walked the perimeter, stopping to watch Dumbledore and an older stern witch transfigure the viewing benches out of the ground. Cedric Diggory stood at the edge of the water, his gaze planted squarely on the still lake. His date from the ball stood at his side, resting her head on his shoulder.
"Looks cold," Gabrielle muttered. She pulled her heavy cloak tight around her body.
"It does." She glanced sidelong at her sister, noting her pensive mood. "You know...Maman wanted me to talk to you."
"Ugh." Gabrielle squinted down to where people gathered by the lake. "There are people around. Do we have to? What if they get all…ensnared?"
"Then we will leave but I do not think it will be a problem. We are far enough away. And yes. We have to. You told me didn't listen to Maman when she was talking to you."
"I was listening," she griped, dropping down onto the snow-covered ground and pulling her legs up to her chest. Fleur sat down next to her, moving her cloak to be a barrier between her and the snow.
"You didn't even notice all the people trying to get Maman's attention."
"I saw them. I know why," Gabrielle mumbled into her legs as she rested her forehead against her knees. Her silver hair shadowed her face, brushing against the snow. "I was listening when she explained how it all works."
"Then why-"
"Because it's scary!" Gabrielle burst out. Her head shot up and Fleur saw tears forming in her grey-blue eyes. "You've been sending letters about how amazing it is to find just one person you can talk to, and Maman talks about how hard it's going to be!" Her lower lip began to quiver. "A-and they told me about what happened to you at the Louvre."
Fleur's blood ignited, her vision tinted a fiery red. How could they? They were meant to help guide Gabrielle, not traumatize her with fear.
A giggle shook her from her anger. Gabrielle scooted away from her sister, laughing as steam rose from a now dry circle around Fleur.
"I thought you said you were 'long past those temperamental changes,'" she teased, wiping her eyes as she quoted a letter Fleur had sent the year before.
"I'm not going to change," Fleur said stiffly, casting an over-exaggerated glance at her sister, eliciting another giggle.
"Don't be mad. I don't want you all angry at each other the whole time we're here." Her laugh had turned into a plea and Fleur's heart broke for it. Gabrielle often acted older than her years should allow but at times she was every bit a scared twelve-year-old.
"I'm not mad," Fleur said, patting the ground next to her.
"Yes, you are." Gabrielle stared pointedly at the visible circle of grass.
"Anymore," she finished, smiling for emphasis. Gabrielle scooted closer and drew her legs up again. "Is there anything you want to know?" Fleur asked after an awkward silence had grown between them.
Gabrielle didn't answer, her gaze roaming across the bustle of activity by the lake. Fleur was about to ask again when she finally spoke. "What's it like?"
"Which part?"
"Feeling people," Gabrielle asked, a touch of wonder mixing into her quiet question.
"Truthfully?"
Gabrielle nodded, expectant.
"It…it was pretty annoying at first," she said, casting her mind back to when her abilities had fully manifested, not the fitful flashes of sense that had preceded them.
Gabrielle turned her head in surprise.
"It was information about the world I couldn't understand," she continued, her eyes unfocused with memory. "Like a constant conversation behind you in a language you don't understand. Before, when the feeling would come and go, it was just a sudden intense noise, like-"
"-like a train passing by," Gabrielle finished for her, her voice a whisper.
Fleur's head snapped over to look at her sister, the realization catching her short of breath.
"Exactly like that. It's happened for you?"
"A few days ago. It was the first time."
"It gets better," Fleur reassured her, though she knew the platitude wouldn't help much. "Besides, having a sixth sense is pretty cool."
Gabrielle brightened at Fleur's words, a little of her melancholy seeping away. Fleur held out an arm, inviting her sister into a seated hug. Gabrielle rocked to the side, falling towards Fleur with her knees still pulled to her chest. She dissolved into giggles when she landed hard against Fleur, eliciting a grunt from her older sister.
Rather than complain about the bruise she already felt forming on her ribs, Fleur dropped her arm around Gabrielle, embracing her. She hoped her sister felt a little more at peace with what lay ahead, and tried to push her anger at her parents to the side, for the time being, content to provide comfort instead.
The scars around her ankles flared with phantom pain that slowly faded away.