Author's Note : Hello, thank you for reading my story. Please see my profile for information regarding canon compliance and a general timeline of my interconnected stories. While they are not necessary to read, my short stories add flavor and context.
Thank you to my beta readers, Raphaël the Nameless, Emp (JuicyFruits), Astro Hawthorne, and Prince of the Swiss Ducks. Similarly, thank you to the Harry/Fleur discord for being such a lovely, supportive community.
I own none of the rights, nor make money, nor gain fame, or anything else from Harry Potter.
Cheers.
Interlude: Love, One Size Fits All
Two Years Ago
Fleur watched her younger sister from across the room. The woman was sitting on a pale yellow loveseat while the younger Veela anxiously twisted her fingers together. The girl's gaze was intense and focused, barely blinking as she watched her goddaughter, all of two, rambunctiously clamber about a hulking man sitting on the floor of the gathering room.
Fayette's onesie-covered foot slipped on her current trek up Hagrid's arm, barely sliding down before a massive hand caught her by her pale blue-clothed bottom. Without missing a beat, the intrepid girl began her quest once more. Her aunt, however, had lurched forward, hands outstretched in fear before slowly returning to her seat when the perceived danger had passed.
Shaking her head, the young Mrs. Potter began making her way over to Gabrielle.
Sitting primly next to her sister, who didn't even glance at her in acknowledgement - gaze still fixed on her niece - Fleur sniffed audibly. Not even a twitch in her direction. Feeling amused, and a tad miffed, the platinum-haired Veela nestled close to her golden-haired relative, making sure to jostle her exaggeratedly.
"Stop it," came the waspish reply, complimented by a sharp elbow to Fleur's ribs.
Rubbing her side ruefully, the older woman decided to just speak instead of endeavoring for the younger girl's full attention. "Honestly, I don't think there is a person on earth that Harry would trust with his children more than Hagrid."
This, it seemed, was enough to grab Gabrielle's attention. She turned, her face showcasing a rather fetching but deeply incredulous expression.
With a smile, Fleur continued speaking, "not many people know this... but Hagrid is the one that took Harry from Godric's Hollow." She paused, watching the statement sink in to her listener. "Carried him to safety even when Harry's godfather, Sirius, left him behind."
"I've never heard about that."
"Mhm."
A companionable silence fell, both women watching the two people, one large and the other small, play together on the living room rug next to the hearth. The women watched for different reasons, but Fleur hoped she could change that, however slightly.
She glanced again at her sister, gauging how best to say what she wanted to impart. Deciding on being direct, she began speaking again, "He was also the one to take Harry away from his horrible muggle relatives when he turned eleven; even gave him the first birthday cake he can remember."
Fleur gazed fondly at the hulking man sitting completely still as Fayette climbed all over him. She watched as he handled her youngest daughter like porcelain, movements calm, slow, and adoring. Fleur smiled at the look of utter, complete concentration on the man's face, his bushy eyebrows scrunched together. His serious expression made her laugh lightly.
"He was there for 'Arry through it all. Staunchly loyal, dependable… His friendship saved my husband in more ways than one. Hagrid is different, yes, but a better man would be hard to find."
Gabrielle nodded, watching the half-giant's careful playing, seemingly with a new eye. Her fingers were clenched together naturally, rather than the nervous knots they'd been contorted into.
Fleur hoped her sister would be able to see what she did, a gentle giant in the truest sense of the phrase. A man who loved the wayward creatures of the world when no one else did. A man that understood, in his own simple and gentle way what it was to be different but unabashed. A concept she knew her sister was struggling with, as a fashion designer unable to model her own clothes due to regulations against 'creatures with supernaturally-enhanced beauty.'
She wasn't disappointed.
"I'm ashamed," the younger Veela whispered finally, "I judged him… before I understood him. I'm no better than the wizards who do the same to us."
Fleur shook her head. "No," she said resolutely. "It is understandably shocking, seeing such a large man next to such a tiny chicklet, especially one with wild hair and covered in furs. But you need only look to see the truth of him. Look now, see how deliberate his movements are and how tender his touches; my daughter is in the safest of hands."
There was a brief pause as the two sisters watched the newest Potter traverse the wide expanse of the haggard mountain range before her. She was going to be trouble, Fleur thought fondly. The little witchling had inherited her father's fearless, adventurous spirit.
The young girl made it atop the peak of the mountain, peeping in bemusement over Hagrid's head, even as his huge hands hovered closely next to her body, ready to catch her should she fall. A victorious babble of gibberish erupted from the babe's mouth, as though she were staking claim to the grandest of summits. With a great bellowing laugh, the older man shook, causing Fayette to bounce about slightly, which caused her own hysterical laughter to bubble up into the air.
"Well, I can at least help him learn to bake," Gabrielle said, her voice suddenly professional and clipped, the emotion of the last few minutes fading away.
Fleur chuckled loudly, the joyous sound mixing with that of her family before her. She looked at the hilariously gargantuan cake on the coffee table near them. The pink icing was clumsily splattered around it, crude letters etched in shaky penmanship happily proclaiming 'Happee Birthdae.'
"'Arry, and I would greatly appreciate that." She leaned in conspiratorially, "you know, Hagrid still sends a cake every year for 'Arry's birthday?" Her sister glanced at her in shock to which she nodded knowingly. "Hasn't missed a single one. They aren't great but… not a crumb is ever left behind."
At this, the young mother glanced towards her husband, lounging against the opposite wall of the living room, his eyes alight with pleasure as he chatted to Hermione and Luna. His black hair was mussed, his posture relaxed and unguarded. He was happy. A birdlike flutter moved in her breast, a serene smile stealing across her face.
She observed Neville and Ron walking towards the group with drinks in their hands. They were met with welcome mirth, the group seamlessly expanding to involve the newcomers.
All around the Potter household friends and family mingled, joked, and smiled together. Children tumbled about the room, filling the home with a lively air. Fred and Molly were chasing one another while shrieking; Audrey and George, meanwhile, were taking bets on whose spawn would break something first. Lili was showing her cousin Rose the new violin Uncle Charlie had carved and strung for her, even if she couldn't play it yet. Fleur's father and mother were grinning while they chatted with Mr and Mrs Weasley, the red-headed matron practically glowing as she held the swaddled form of Roxanne Weasley, the newest of the brood.
A young boy with bright, turquoise hair ran from an aristocratic, older woman to bury his head against Fleur's stomach, his spindly arms wrapping about her waist in greeting. Her fingers trailed through his locks as they shifted from blue to black to silver.
Work friends, D.A. members, and former teachers all congregated about the house, mixing and mingling as old acquaintances were found and new friendships were born.
To all this, the birthday girl paid no notice. Indeed, she was completely oblivious to the noise and movement around her. The fuss of her second birthday was unimportant and disregarded as she single-mindedly played with her godfather.