Hi there!
So, here's the next chapter. Be sure to review and let me know what you thought. PMs are, as ever, open should you wish to ask any questions relating to any of my stories.
Biggest thanks goes to Michal, or Honorversefan, for the great help in beta-reading and being excellent. Thanks again to Lib and the others for pushing me along in writing this chapter; you're all the best. I'd also like to thank SKFF, for writing such kind and thoughtful reviews in each chapter - they make my day when I read them.
In any case, I hope you enjoy.
Thanks!
Amongst the sea of his peers, Ernie Macmillan was one of the few people that did not actively search out for Harry and so finding him might have proved a struggle had Harry not possessed the Marauder's Map. Avoiding those who did seek him out was a challenge of course, though given that he had not yet put his cloak to much use that year save for discovering the dragons with Hagrid, it was one that Harry relished all the more.
As it would turn out, Harry found Ernie milling around the castle's kitchens where he often was, much like the other students of his house. It was one of those unwritten rules of the school, it seemed. The Ravenclaws got the roofed quad in the back corner of the castle, the Slytherins the old-staff room in the dungeons, the Gryffindors the high-tower that neighboured their own, and the Hufflepuffs the kitchens.
However, Ernie was alone in the kitchens. Even the scuttling forms of the school's house-elf population were absent, their dots elsewhere on the Marauder's Map, seemingly shooting around at twice the pace of any students. Ernie's, by contrast, was totally still and the moment Harry tickled the pear and let himself in, he came to find why.
"It had to be you, didn't it," Ernie said, immediately upon seeing Harry, his hand gripping onto a spoonful of ice cream. Why on Earth the castle had ice-cream in December of all times, Harry did not know. "I can't live a moment without being harassed."
Harry immediately raised his hands in surrender. "I promise I'm not here to bother you."
"And I bet it wasn't your intention before, but it still happened!" Ernie exclaimed, pausing for a moment to scoop more dessert into his mouth. "Every lunch, I can't go without seeing Justin's stupid face and his stupid girlfriend and I hate it!"
Harry drew a careful breath. "I'm really sorry about that," he said. "I promise I never meant for you to feel this way."
"Oh, and like I can believe that ," Ernie retorted. "Like, with that other Beauxbatons girl?" Aimée, Harry gathered the boy meant. "When you first talked to her and you asked her if she thought I was cute, even though you knew I could hear."
Harry sighed. "I'm sorry about that too," he added. "My life has got a little bit weird for me recently, even for me, and I didn't think you'd be hurt by that."
Especially as, not a week before, Ernie had been one of the most conspicuous wearers of the 'Support Cedric Diggory' badges. Surely, Harry thought, if one were to judge so readily, they should expect to be judged just as quickly.
"Well it hurts," Ernie told him. "To be spoken about like that in front of everyone. It hurts."
The irony was not lost. Unspoken, though not lost.
"You know Justin cheated on me, right?" Ernie then asked of him. "On the last Hogsmeade weekend, he went off to-" He raised his fingers to imitate quotation marks. "-look at stationary. Well, apparently 'stationary' was a Durmstrang boy in the year above." A tear slid down his cheek. "I found them in Honeydukes and Justin didn't even say a word to me. No apology, nothing."
"I'm so sorry, I…" Harry trailed off.
"And you know what the worst of all of it is?" Ernie asked him, stabbing his spoon into the ice-cream, the dessert melted such that it was mostly liquid and so the collision occurred with a squelch. "I share a dorm with him." He sighed. "I share a dorm with him, and so I have to hear him every evening talk about how wonderful his new partner is, and how happy he is with her. I can't even sleep without hearing it!"
He threw the tub of ice-cream to the ground, sending it splattering everywhere.
"I can't sleep without hearing it," Ernie repeated. "I can't go to a lesson without hearing it, I can't eat without hearing it. He gets rewarded by you for being an arsehole. And now you're here, making it all worse."
Ernie sighed. There was a finality to the noise, and soon after he left his chair and kneeled on the ground, pulling out his wand to cast cleaning charms onto the kitchen floor, ridding it of his ice cream and saving the elves from having to do the job.
Harry sighed quietly and joined him in his kneeling. He had no great experience in cleaning charms save for Professor Flitwick's classroom, but he was good at cleaning by hand, so he knew he'd be alright.
Ernie caught him in the corner of his eye. He didn't say a word to him, either to tell him to leave or to stay, the room falling silent save for the mutterings of ' Evanesco' as they continually re-cast the cleaning charm until the floor became as spotless to the eye as the house-elves themselves kept it.
"I meant what I said, you know," Ernie said after they had finished, wiping away a bead of sweat from his forehead. "I'm not sorry for saying it, either."
"I don't expect you to be," Harry said. "You've had a rough time recently."
"You don't have to be so condescending," Ernie said. "I know my fragile heart doesn't compare to you facing a dragon."
"Ernie," Harry announced, his voice drawing the boy's eye toward him. "I'd rather face a hundred dragons than have to go through what you have, and I really, genuinely mean that. I'm sorry that you had to."
Ernie surveyed his face for a moment, before giving him a slight nod. "Sorry," he said. "Not for what I said, but for wearing that badge before. I guess I got swept up in it all."
Harry nodded. "Sorry for getting swept up in the Yule Ball," he replied. "I should've stopped and thought."
"It's okay," Ernie added kindly, before laughing. "Besides, it's Justin. That relationship is bound to blow in his face before too long."
Harry laughed before he could stop himself.
"I didn't really have much to do with him asking Émilie out," Harry said, more in explanation than defence. "He just, sorta, turned up and asked me out." Harry laughed. "Then, when I said no – actually, in the middle of me saying no – he started chatting her up."
"Why am I not surprised," Ernie commented beneath his breath. "He just gets everything he wants."
"I wouldn't say everything," Harry said. "He's never going to be happy in a relationship because he thinks that everyone is like him and so he can't trust them."
"I don't think he's thoughtful enough to care," Ernie muttered.
"Still," Harry argued. "He knows his life is always going to miss something. He knows." Harry sighed. "That's why the way to win the breakup is to be happy with someone else."
Ernie laughed derisively. "That's rubbish," he said immediately. "The best way to win is by winning . By getting with someone more attractive; someone better than the person you were with before so that he knows that you can do better." He pointed at Harry sharply. "That's where you come in."
Harry smiled. "Oh yeah?"
"I think we can both agree you owe me a match-making," Ernie explained. Harry laughed. "So, let's get on with it. Match-make away."
Harry laughed all the more, before settling himself with a deep breath. "Would you believe that's why I'm here?"
Ernie gave him a significant look. "Of course I can," he replied. "It's you."
Harry smiled. "Do you want to know who the boy is?"
Ernie shook his head, after a moment. "I'd rather it was a secret," he said. "I think I deserve some romance at the end of all of this."
"Funny you say that," Harry said, bemused. "He said exactly the same thing."
Ernie arose from his knees with a groan and Harry joined him doing so, too.
Ernie folded his arms across his chest. "This isn't me forgiving you yet," he said, though his words lacked their prior fire. "I'll forgive you when I get into my dorms on Christmas night and see Justin sulking, jealous, after his date is obviously not as good as mine."
"Well, I can't promise that," Harry replied. He didn't truly desire for it to happen, either, though he did find himself admiring the spirit of the idea. "But I'll do my best to give you a fun time at the Ball."
Ernie left the room quickly after, though no sooner did the door swing open for his exit, then it swung back open for another's entry.
And, despite the fact that she seemed to hold all aspects of his attention at every moment of his every day, Harry found himself truly surprised by the appearance of Fleur in the castle's kitchens. Not least because, behind her, she had what appeared to be herself in miniature following along.
Fleur, it seemed, was equally astounded by the turning of fate's wheel then, as she let out a shocked gasp at his appearance.
"I had no idea you'd be here," she said, echoing their no-doubt shared thoughts. She glanced down to the girl by her side. "'Arry, this is Gabrielle. My hellion of a little sister."
The girl in question waved shyly, hiding behind Fleur's legs. Harry waved back.
"Nice to meet you, Gabrielle," Harry said, meeting the girl's eyes, before returning to look at Fleur. "I had no idea you knew that this -" He gestured to the kitchen around them. "-existed."
"Well, food has to come from somewhere," Fleur replied. "But it took…intuition to find this kitchen, I must admit."
Harry smirked. "So, you got lost?" he clarified for her. "And, somehow you managed to stumble your way here."
Fleur's cheeks tinted red. "Lost is not true," she said. "How can you ever know if you are lost, anyway?" Her eyes lost contact with his. "How can you be sure that you are not being found?"
Harry coughed, the pair suddenly remembering they had company. Company, who was smiling as she watched their awkward interaction with eyes all too knowing for their comfort.
" So ," he said, levity forced into his voice. "Do you want me to leave so that you have the kitchen to yourself?"
"No!" Gabrielle interjected, before Fleur could speak to answer. "I like him."
Fleur smiled, quietly amused. "Gabi, you've only just met him."
"But I know you like him!" Gabi exclaimed, taking great delight in the red blushing over her sister's skin. Harry stifled a laugh, his chest warming. "And he sounds so funny when he speaks!"
Fleur laughed. Harry sighed.
"Did you tell her to say that?" he asked her.
Fleur shook her head, still laughing. "I did not," she admitted. "But if a child can see it, it can't be denied."
"I'm not a child," Gabi told her sister. "I'm a grown-up; more grown up than you are."
"Of course," Fleur allowed, her eyes then looking to Harry. "If you are staying as she insists, then you can help us make sablés."
"And what are they?" he asked, his once-forlorn expression lost at the thought of what was to come.
Fleur and Gabrielle rolled their eyes in stereo.
"Biscuits, but not just any biscuits. Special biscuits, " Gabrielle explained, her voice holding a truly unfathomable amount of gravitas for a child. She gave Fleur an odd look. "I can't believe you like him."
Fleur reddened again. "He grows on you," she did add. Harry smiled. "Though, it will take some effort to recover from not knowing of sablés."
"Sorry," Harry said, teasing. "We didn't all grow up inside a bakery."
Fleur's eyes shot up to look at him, though they left just as quickly. "You should be sorry," she muttered. "But we have the perfect way for you to get back."
"Which is?"
In one motion, Fleur retrieved her wand and cast the summoning charm toward the eggs, powdered sugar, plain flour, and baking powder.
"Start mixing."
"And we're not to use magic for this, of course," Harry said. That would be much too easy.
"Naturally," Fleur said, smiling at him. "The most important ingredient is love." She and her sister shared a smile, one of inside jokes only they knew of. "Actually, that is the second most important. The first is butter."
From the pocket of her jacket, Fleur then pulled out a great tub of salted butter.
"You brought your own butter?" Harry had to ask.
A mask of intense seriousness fell on Gabrielle's face. "We could not risk it," she told him. "We could not risk tainting the sablés with bad butter."
Harry nodded. "Right," he said, amusedly resigned. "So, mixing?"
"Mixing," Fleur agreed. "You must be careful, but also fearless. Firm, but gentle."
"I feel like we're going to be here a while."
"We will be here as long as we need to," Gabrielle said, sagely.
Harry was not unfamiliar with baking; he'd spent most of the summer between his first and second year in the kitchen of the Burrow with Mrs Weasley learning to bake. Yet, he knew he was completely unprepared for the task at hand.
"So, how come you've decided to visit?" Harry asked Gabrielle, his arm whirling a spoon around the bowl, creaming together the butter and sugar.
"My school has finished for the term," Gabrielle said. "And I could not go a Yule without seeing my sister."
Harry smiled warmly.
"And she wished to see the castle," Fleur said, her eyes watchful over his work. "She is thinking of coming here instead of Beauxbatons. I'm hoping to teach her the error of her ways." She smiled at her sister. "I have her for two days until she goes back to spend the solstice with Mama and Papa."
Gabrielle pouted. "I want to stay here forever!" she exclaimed. "They have snow here!"
"We have snow in Nice," Fleur commented, her voice quiet.
"But not proper snow," Gabrielle told her. "Not enough to make snowmen like here, and not every year." She turned to look at Harry very suddenly. "That is enough."
Harry nodded, and set about separating the egg's yolks from its whites, before slowly adding the yolks to the mixture, his hands carefully mixing the proto-dough under the sisters' mirrored watchful gaze.
"So, are you going home after the Ball?" Harry asked Fleur, after having done his duty to a standard deemed sufficient.
"Perhaps for a day," she replied. "But I need to be here for the tournament."
Harry nodded, though Gabrielle looked at him intensely.
"You're…Harry Potter?" she then asked, surprise soon dawning on her face. "I can't believe I'm baking with Harry Potter." She frowned. "I cannot believe he doesn't know what sablés are."
"Sorry," he said, amused. The fact that Gabrielle had been too excited by the prospect of pastry to even so much as glance at his scar was refreshing, at the very least. "Too busy beating your sister in the tournament to learn about them."
Gabrielle smiled, taking the bowl quickly from her sister, before face turned serious again. "Now, the hard part."
Harry looked to Fleur. "You're not doing the hard part?"
"I'm only here to watch," she told him. She nodded toward Gabrielle. "She is the master."
Fleur's words were no exaggeration, either. In a whirlwind, the mixture was soon formed into its most perfect form, the flour and baking powder sifted expertly and mixed in until the dough, at last, began to come together.
In a matter of moments, Gabrielle then rolled out the dough flat, cutting them out into biscuits and placed them onto a baking tray. They were in the oven only seconds after that, the sisters working in tandem wonderfully.
"They will take fifteen minutes," Gabrielle said, her words exact. Before turning toward Harry. "So, what was it like?"
Harry offered her a baffled expression.
"You may have to be more specific, Gabi," Fleur said, watching him.
"When you battled back a hundred dementors, of course!" Gabrielle said, her eyes wide. "Was it scary?" She gasped. "You cast a Patronus too, didn't you?"
"How do you know about that?" Harry asked.
"It was in Mama's paper," Fleur said. "Your ministry did not look good after that."
Harry didn't doubt that.
"It was scary, yeah," he told Gabrielle, her eyes still so wide. "But I knew I could do it."
"Wow," Gabrielle said, in awe. "Can I see your Patronus?"
"It is a personal thing," Fleur chastised. She gave Harry a soft look. "You don't have to If you don't want to."
Harry, though, found himself really wanting to. Enough to pull out his wand, and with a clear voice, cast. " Expecto Patronum ."
A stag soon filled the room, formed of light and love and magic. He pranced upon the surfaces, playing amongst the spilled flour and sugar. Harry smiled at the sight, just as Fleur and Gabrielle did too. The deer circled around Gabi in particular, taking great delight in causing her to laugh as they played together.
When the magic had run its course and Gabrielle looked to him in hope, Harry happily cast the spell anew so that she could play with her newest friend again, the joy at seeing Prongs and Gabrielle's infectious wonder ridding him of any exertion he might well have felt otherwise at such a feat.
It was only when the fifteen minutes were up, and the sablés ready, did Gabrielle begrudgingly cut her time with the patronus short. And, though little could compare to the joy of a fully realised patronus, the scent of freshly baked sablés came mightily close.
"Now you understand," Fleur said, with an air of victory to her voice, as she took responsibility of handling the oven-hot confectionery. "They are special, aren't they?"
"Definitely," Harry agreed.
Though he had not realised it at first, upon review, the three of them had baked enough to feed the whole of Gryffindor house and have enough left over for Hagrid. Harry thought he could survive on sablés alone for a month if he wished to, and he certainly wished to.
The second he'd taken a bite of the biscuit; he knew he'd cast a thousand patronuses if it meant he got to taste their sablés every day. He could not do anything but taste them, they were that good. For a moment, they robbed him of all of his focus except to their taste.
"If you think they are good, you should try Papa's," Fleur said, watching him fall into bliss and not from there herself. "They are heavenly."
"These taste that good," Harry replied.
Fleur met his eyes. "They are better, I promise you."
Begrudgingly, they did then stop eating to pack up their efforts. All in all, there were a hundred biscuits by the end of their extensive taste-testing.
"Perhaps, I should take a few dozen of them, then," Harry said, surveying over them. "Just to make sure."
"You do not know what you are making sure of," Fleur said. "They should go to our more expert palates."
"But how can mine grow any better without proper training?" Harry asked. "40."
Gabrielle's face turned into a hard mask; all jubilance forgotten. Her arms folded. "10."
Harry gasped, offended. "45."
"12."
"35."
"18."
"30."
"22."
"25."
"25."
Harry smiled. "Deal."
Gabrielle smiled back. "Deal."
Fleur rolled her eyes at the pair of them. "Deal," she said. "Now, let's get these packed away before someone catches the smell and tries to steal them."
There was something in Fleur's tone that caught Harry by surprise. "You are being serious?" he asked. "Has that happened before?"
Fleur smirked at him. "You really don't know what you're getting in for," she said. For a moment, Harry was sure their thoughts met over thoughts of bakeries and over-indulgence.
After all was squared away, and the room cleaned in no-time thanks to the expert touch of Fleur's wand, Gabrielle soon whisked Fleur out of the kitchen, longing to see yet more of the ancient castle.
"Nice to meet you, Harry!" she exclaimed upon leaving. "Hope to see you soon!"
Harry did too.
Fleur was slower in her exit. "Thank you," she whispered to him, wrapping her arms around him in a brief embrace. Harry's skin warmed. "For being so understanding."
"There's nothing to understand," he told her, leaning into her touch for a tiny moment. "Have fun with your sister."
Fleur looked to him fondly, only inches apart. "You still find ways of surprising me," she said, before turning to look at her expectant sister. "When she goes tomorrow, do you want to go through the stuff with the fire?"
It took Harry a moment to realise what she'd said, his head cloudy with her closeness and the taste of her confectionery. "Of course," he said. "I can't wait."
"Nor can I," Fleur whispered, before leaving his touch to catch up to her sister, throwing looks over her shoulder to him until she disappeared from the corridor, fully out of sight.
Harry lingered in the kitchen a while longer. It'd been a while since he'd seen Dobby, after all.
As it would turn out, the magnetic pull of the sablés was not at all exaggerated, either.
No sooner did Harry reveal them to the open air of his dormitory, than Ron appeared out of thin air, and Harry thought that rather literally, too. He went from nothing, to by his side, in an instant.
"What've you got there?" Ron inquired, leaning over Harry's shoulder to get a look.
"Hello to you too, mate," Harry replied, staring blankly at his best mate.
"Yeah, hello, sure," Ron said, his hand waving away the pleasantries. "So, what are they?"
"You wouldn't like them," Harry told him, dismissively.
"I beg to differ," Ron said. "Quite frankly, I don't think I've ever liked anything more than I do those right now, and I haven't even had one yet."
"You can't know that," Harry said, pulling the sablés toward him protectively.
"Then allow me to prove it," Ron replied. "Please?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "Sure," he said. "But only one."
Ron swiped one the second Harry stopped speaking, his hands moving at a nearly unnatural pace to do so. Rather predictably, he loved them too.
"You've gotta teach me how to make those," Ron said, in a gushing voice. "This can't be the only day I eat those. I can't go without them for the rest of my life, I just can't."
"Wonder how your date will feel knowing you've got a new love."
Ron's demeanour cooled, but only fractionally. "He'd understand."
Time seemed to move in slow motion for Ron, then. His eyes went wide, his mouth opening and closing yet with no sound coming out.
"Oh God," he whispered. "Oh God, oh God, oh God."
"It's really okay," Harry told him. "I promise it's not that big a deal."
Ron took a moment to hear the words properly. "R-really?"
"Of course," Harry said. "You're my best mate; nothing's ever going to change that."
Ron was silent once more, scarcely breathing.
"Really?" he asked again.
"Of course," Harry said.
Ron heaved a heavy sigh. "Thank God!" he exclaimed, the tension bleeding away. "I'd worried about that for ages!" He sighed again. "I even got Hermione to research how to talk about that sort of thing."
"I'm glad you don't have to worry about that anymore," Harry replied, before stopping. "Wait." He looked at Ron inquisitively. "Is that why you spent so much time away from me these past few weeks?"
Ron nodded. "Yeah."
"Well thank Merlin that's over," Harry said. "I've missed you way too much for that to happen again."
Ron grinned. "Sorry the biggest realisation in my life was such an inconvenience to you."
"Sorry," Harry said instinctively, only to see the grin on his face. "So does that mean I get to find out who the unlucky bloke taking you is?"
"Still no," Ron said. "A man's got to have some mystery."
"Really?" Harry asked. "Fine. You don't get to know who I want to take either."
Ron stared at him, bemused, the prior tension forgotten. "It's Fleur Delacour."
Harry sighed. Ron gave a chuckle at the sound.
"Thanks for not making a big deal of it," Ron said, uneasy again, with no doubt over what 'it' was.
"You didn't seem to want me to," Harry replied.
Ron shook his head. "I didn't," he said, before coughing awkwardly. "Still, thanks."
Harry allowed the silence to grow, for all of a moment or so. "Can I ask a few questions?" Harry asked. Ron nodded. "When did you know?"
Ron fell back onto his bed. Wordlessly, Harry passed him the full package of Sables.
"I don't know," Ron said, already digging into a biscuit. "I guess last year?"
Harry smiled, growing comfortable in his own bed, pulling his duvet toward him and wrapping it around himself. "Can I ask who it was?"
"Oliver Wood," Ron blurted out, before his mouth could even think of catching up to his brain. "Bloody hell."
Harry found himself happy at his friend's newfound openness. "Because he could play Quidditch?"
"Because he was amazing at Quidditch," Ron corrected, before he hid his face behind his bed covers. "And he had nice eyes."
Harry smiled, relieved for reasons he'd not even thought to know until just then. "Have you told your Mum?"
"She was the first one I told," Ron told him. "Well, her and Dad."
"How did she take it?"
"Mum spent the night changing her wedding plans so that the cakes would be groom and groom," Ron explained, with a shrug. "That's about it."
"Your Dad?" Harry asked.
Ron shrugged again. "Said he's looking forward to that wedding as he always wanted seven sons," he told Harry, before he paused. He added then, in a quieter voice. "Well, eight with you."
Harry grinned brightly.
"I'm really happy for you, mate."
"Yeah?" Ron asked, staring into the room's roof as though it opened to the sky. "Yeah, I am too."
The world, it seemed, was not growing brighter for only he and Fleur, but for Ron too.
"Are you still going to tell me who you're taking?"
"Not a chance."
Unlike the last time Harry entered the Forbidden Forest behind Hagrid, he found himself without the need for his cloak and, perhaps most significantly, not on a journey toward a dragon.
"They're just up here!" Hagrid called out over his shoulder, his steps bounding quickly toward their destination.
'They' were the skrewts who, in the time since Harry had last seen them, had grown beyond even Harry's most careful expectations to a size so great they could not be safely housed anywhere near the castle. Either by bargaining or by kindness Harry was not sure, one of the handlers from the first task had bequeathed Hagrid one of the dragon's enclosures still bearing its fire-proof enchantments and all. Though, upon reflection, with his own newfound abilities, neither of them were likely to need it then.
"Quite sweet, aren't they," Hagrid commented, his eyes growing misty at the sight of his creations.
Harry did not know if it was his own mind growing deluded or a change in his heart, but he found himself agreeing with Hagrid then. Away from the outside influence of loud and thoughtless students, the skrewts truly were far friendlier, even to one another. There was not the fighting for food that had been rampant before; they even seemed to wrestle playfully with one another, the victor shooting a gout of flame after pinning the other.
"So," Hagrid said, stepping into the enclosure without a worry. Harry followed him in. "What did you manage to find out?"
"She loves Charms," Harry began. "She's really passionate about her subject."
"Like I am?" Hagrid sought to clarify, his great hand sweeping across the forest floor.
"Exactly," Harry agreed. "She loves to talk about Charms, and I'm sure if you ask her about Charms to use to take care of these skrewts, you'll be there all night."
Hagrid beamed at him. "Thank you, Harry," he gushed. "Much else?"
Harry took a breath, to settle himself.
"Yeah, there is," he said, his voice uneven. "She doesn't like to talk about her…. heritage."
"Heritage?" Hagrid asked.
"That she's a half-giant," Harry then said, watching Hagrid's face, expectantly. "People haven't been too nice to her about it."
"I understand that, of course," Hagrid said, strangely distracted, his eyes trained a group of the skrewts though Harry doubted he truly saw anything. "So, nothing?"
"Best to only mention it if she does first, I think," Harry said. "That's what I could gather, anyway."
Hagrid nodded, though confusion still covered his face. He threw meat to the creatures at his feet and Harry did too, waiting for the groundskeeper to speak.
"But she knows I am too, right?" Hagrid asked, after a time.
"She does, yeah," Harry answered.
Realisation finally did dawn, then. "Okay. Okay ," Hagrid said, mostly to himself, before sending Harry a blinding smile. "Seems good to me."
One of the larger skrewts yanked at Harry's trousers then, its pincer grabbing hold of the denim of his jeans not letting go. Harry smiled down to it, throwing it a big piece of meat which the creature chomped on gratefully.
And, for the first time, when the skrewt blasted its fire toward him, Harry did not jump away, but stood his ground without an ounce of fear.
The fire met his skin, warmed it, and disappeared as quickly as it had come. Below him, the skrewt responsible let out a chirp Harry hadn't known they were capable of.
In dim realisation, Harry came to learn then that they had been playing with him the entire time. He'd just never known it. With a mutter, Harry cast the fire-spell and played the game right back, skrewt and human meeting in pyrotechnic harmony.
The spectacle brought others of the creature's kind over until Harry had a small legion of them playing with him. Without Fawkes, he'd have hardly lasted a moment, though he was not without Fawkes, and likely never would be again.
"You're really getting the hang of this," Hagrid said, standing above Harry.
"Just took some practice is all," Harry replied, a smile unknowingly upon his face.
Hagrid's feet shuffled noisily, behind him. "Can I tell you something Harry?" he asked.
The shock of Hagrid having to ask such a question brought Harry's attention right back to his oldest friend.
"Go on," Harry said.
"With how this year started, I was a little bit worried for you," Hagrid admitted. "With that mess at the Quidditch, and the tournament and all, I got scared." Hagrid gave off a booming laugh, the noise rumbling through the earth and Harry's chest, warming both. "But, as I see you now, I should've known I had nothing to fear. You're really growing into the man I think your Mum and Dad would want you to be and I know they're proud of you up there."
It was an hour before Harry could speak properly again, his voice lost amongst his heart's swelling feelings.
The winter solstice was, by definition, the shortest day of the year. The day where darkness stretched longest and light shortest. Yet, as Harry approached Fleur's carriage door, there seemed to be a great deal of light then, even as the sky had ushered the night upon them barely moments after the middle of the day.
Fleur held no pretence of waiting for the sound of his knock, as the moment he approached the threshold, the door swung open expectantly to reveal her wearing his Quidditch jersey again.
He smiled at the sight, smiling more at her familiar hurry to keep the heat in. Fleur's eyes followed his and then she smiled too.
"How do I look?" Fleur asked, quietly, turning where she stood.
"Beautiful," Harry said, breathlessly and not for the cold. Not one bit.
Fleur looked at him, her cheeks dusted red. "Really?"
Harry swallowed, taking a step toward her before he knew what he'd even realised. "Yeah," he whispered. He sighed, suddenly. "So…"
Fleur sighed too. "So," she echoed, the tension easing slightly. "The fire?"
"The fire," Harry agreed. "Have you found anything out?"
Fleur shook her head, the action jerky. "Not at all," she said. "I've been a little distracted with Gabrielle, though even so I have still not found anything."
"Nor have I," Harry added. Admittedly, his inquiry had been a solitary letter to Dumbledore asking for his opinion. He'd written back to say he'd never heard of such an anomaly, though if something came of it, he wished for Fawkes to get the proper accreditation in the resulting academic papers.
Fleur took a step back, turning to look at a book splayed open on her desk.
"I have, however, found something that might help you channel flame like I can," she explained, holding out the book and offering for Harry to read. "Most Veela, even partial-ones such as myself, can innately control flame. Yet, some cannot, and that is not because they cannot control the fire, but because they must be taught."
The book that Harry held, therefore, was a manual on such a practise.
"The process is quite direct," Fleur continued. "I will conjure my flame and you will place your hand into it once more except this time, instead of just feeling it, you will attempt to control it yourself." Fleur sighed. "Though I doubt the firebird has made a Veela of you, I think the idea holds merit."
"Maybe the vision happens again, too. Who knows," Harry said. Fleur nodded in recognition. "Should we really do this here?" Harry pointed to the wooden cupboards and wardrobes. "Isn't everything a touch too flammable for that?"
Fleur shook her head. "My carriage is fire-resistant."
Harry grinned brightly. " Allez ."
Though he'd seen her conjure flames before, the act did not grow any less impressive in repetition, nor did the heat the fire exuded diminish whatsoever. Yet, what Harry found most striking of all was the way the light shone upon the graceful edges of Fleur's face. She looked sharper then, under her own illumination, and yet all the warmer too.
Harry did not believe a single more wonderful sight existed. She was everything in that moment. She was art, she was beauty. She was a wonder beyond anything he could begin to ever know.
"Are you ready?" Fleur asked.
Harry met her eyes, his own eyes striking as he did. "I am."
Fleur nodded, and Harry brought himself into her fire again. There was no vision as he did, yet there was something different to the experience. Before, beyond the warmth, he'd not felt much of anything except the wonder as his gift had revealed itself.
Yet then, the fire seemed to welcome him into its embrace.
A blanket in the winter, a flame burning away the cold. Harry's eyes dipped closed for a moment to take it in.
"Your turn," Fleur said, as Harry opened his eyes. Harry nodded and set about attempting, not for the first time, something he had no clue of how to do.
The flame was not inert, Harry immediately learned. There was life amongst its dancing and its flickering. The moment he even thought to push against it with any of his own power, as though he were casting a shield charm, the fire forced him away without delay.
Yet, it did not feel as though he was attempting wandless magic. Harry had tried that, of course – every wizard had, hoping they were Dumbledore and soon finding out they were not – but in those instances, there seemed to be chasm between him and his magic. The gap was possible to cross, the feat possible, but one that required greater fortitude than he could gather.
Here though, with Fleur's hand in his and the fire upon his skin, all it would require was a jump.
Harry looked into Fleur's eyes. And jumped .
And, the fire that once was Fleur's, was then theirs. Fleur's eyes closed for a moment, and when they opened, they looked distant. Then, the fire was his and his alone.
Immediately, Harry knew that he was not a Veela, as to sustain it took a great amount of focus. The moment he looked into Fleur's eyes, curious at the sudden change in her, the fire had snuffed itself out.
"I saw… you ," Fleur told him, upon feeling his gaze upon her. "I think I saw the same vision that you did, before."
"Really?"
Fleur nodded, slightly shakily. "The flame had captured you totally," she whispered, her voice lighter than air. She blinked, the focus returning to her eyes. "I take it you had some success?"
"Definitely," Harry said, with a grin. "Though I think I'm going to need your help to try again." He sighed wearily. "It was exhausting just holding onto it for as shortly as I did."
Fleur sat down on the edge of her bed. "It gets easier, in time," she said. She looked up to him, before patting the space beside her, inviting him to take it; an offer he took on at once. "Though I think I'll break before we try again."
"Later then," Harry said, their knees brushing together.
"Later," Fleur agreed.
They shared a laugh.
"So how was it with Gabrielle?" Harry asked after they'd settled. "You two seemed really close."
"We are," Fleur agreed, a smile coming to her easily. "She makes my life more enjoyable."
"Her baking definitely does," Harry said, earning a laugh. "But, yeah. You seemed a lot more carefree around her."
Harry worried that he'd said too much once more, though Fleur did not guard her face at his words.
"That's how I want her life to be," Fleur told him. "She shouldn't need to live her life worrying about other people. Like-" Fleur stopped. She let out a sigh. "Like I have."
Harry took her hand into his, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. The act was more as natural to him, to them, as breathing.
"What do you worry about, Fleur?" Harry asked, his voice soft.
Fleur met his eyes, and Harry awaited the sound of 'secrets' to meet his ears, yet it did not.
"That my sister might have to grow into a world that does not love her as it should because of their horrid prejudice," Fleur said. "That all of the work my parents have put forward, to get me to Beauxbatons and to allow me to succeed, will be for nothing if I do not win this ridiculous tournament."
Harry could not look away from her, his eyes wide.
Sensing his confusion, she clarified. "Beauxbatons is not like Hogwarts. It is exclusive ," she told him, and the word became expensive to his ears immediately. "My peers are not the sons and daughters of bakers, but politicians and diplomats." She paused. "Aimée's father does not even know the price of a loaf of bread." Fleur's eyes closed for a moment. "Yet, it is the best school in all of France, and one of the few in Europe that, thanks to Madame Maxime, would accept a Veela like me."
Harry's touch remained constant upon her. "I'm so sorry, Fleur."
She shook her head. "When I was younger, I did not know any of this of course, so I prioritised other things. Like dance, like Aimée ," Fleur said. "Then, over the summer when I was fourteen, I came to see just how hard Mama and Papa worked; how much they sacrificed for me. I knew that I could not act as I had any more."
"So, you pushed other things away," Harry said, his voice utterly understanding.
"And so, I pushed other things away," Fleur echoed, before meeting his eyes. "You asked me what my dreams are, 'Arry?" Harry nodded. "My dream has remained the same all time since then. For Gabrielle to not have to live like me. I need to change the world so that her, and her children, can be as happy as they deserve to be."
Silence fell after Fleur's words. Harry could feel the conflict within her. Her shoulders lighter at a burden shared, her heart racing.
"I know you will," Harry said. His words did not feel like they were enough; they could not possibly be. Yet, with her hand in hers, and their eyes not once leaving each other, he knew it was as much as he could give, and he would always give that gladly. "You are the most amazing person I've ever met."
Her world did shift at his words; the pain did not disappear. Yet, the world became a fraction brighter, the weight a fraction lighter. He did not give her strength but supported the strength she already had.
And that, that was enough.
Fleur brought herself only inches away from Harry, their eyes not leaving one another. "I never thought I'd be able to tell another person that," she whispered. For a moment, her eyes dropped to Harry's lips, his breathing growing uneven. "Thank you, for being you."
"I hope one day you tell me everything," Harry said, his own eyes dropping to look at the fullness of her lips.
Their eyes met, and then dipped closed as they crossed the distance. She kissed him, and he kissed her. Her lips soft against his, overwhelming him. His, in turn, taking hers.
He could feel nothing other than Fleur in that moment. Her hand upon his jaw, her fingers gently running through his hair, the wonderful warmth of her touch.
The sensation was beyond anything Harry had ever known. He wanted to live within it forever.
She smiled against his lips, then, separating only that she could speak, their eyes still closed, too lost in one-another for anything else.
"One day, 'Arry," Fleur said, and his name on her lips felt like a kiss of its own. "I will."
They opened their eyes at the same moment, each holding adoration as they looked to each other's eyes.
Yet, as they did view the world in their new, changed eyes, they found a great deal more than just each other. Both, in the time in-between, had been completely wreathed in flame.
Just as his vision had suggested. Just as hers had suggested, too. They both couldn't help but laugh.
"I don't think this is going to get either of us a mastery, somehow," Harry said. "Do you think this is going to happen every time we kiss?"
Fleur's hand returned to his hair, guiding him gently toward her. "Would you like to find out?"
It didn't, they found out. They were very, very thorough in their testing, too. Hours and hours spent breathless and intertwined, kissing and laughing and being happy.
Harry couldn't recall ever being happier.
"Fleur Delacour," Harry managed to say, in one of the rare moments their lips found themselves separated. "Will you go to the Yule Ball with me?"
"Do we have to go?" she asked, smiling at him. "Can't we just do something else instead?"
"Yes, we do need to go," Harry replied, as much as it pained him to do so. He'd been right all along, he realised then. There was nothing better being alone with the one you adored. Nothing . "I got almost every other couple together; it'd be rude not to."
Fleur smiled. Her smile was like an event of its own. Something to watch for, something to celebrate.
"Yes, then," she said. "If we have to." She pointed at him mock-sternly. "But, with one condition."
Harry smiled.
"Yes?"
"You are going to dance with me while we're there," Fleur said, grinning. "Really dancing , too."
Harry couldn't think of a better way to spend the time than in Fleur's arms.
There it is!
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