Not So Great Escape
The campsite for the Quidditch World Cup was overflowing with supporters, and in the case of a small French family just wanted to enjoy the show. Fleur Delacour, the eldest daughter in the family, sat outside their tent taking in the rare, warm sun. She had overheard many stories of England's harsh weather from her dorm mates, when they were discussing their summer holidays, but the weather she was experiencing was quite pleasant.
Gabrielle, Fleur's younger sister, had somehow managed to get hold of her mother's wand. She was waving it happily and stared awe-struck as a burst of bubbles streamed from the end of the wand. Fleur smiled to herself as her sister started to leap into the air, attempting to catch the huge, multicoloured bubbles in her tiny hands.
A sudden yelp of surprise caught Fleur's attention and she turned to see a balding, red haired man crouched beside what appeared to be an entire box of used matches, another one of their number fell from his hand at the yelp. His face was a picture of childish glee. He was crouching beside a small mountain of wood, firewood.
He was surrounded by what looked like his family. Two twins sat next to the two small, slightly battered looking tents. They were talking quietly and one kept glancing at the man. Another, slightly gangly looking boy was staring at the man with a look of sheer disbelief on his face. His hair, like the twins and the man's, was flame red. A brown haired girl, who looked to be the same age as the boy, rushed very to the man and started to show him how to use the matches properly. Fleur thought she was muggleborn or at least had been raised by muggles. Few wizards used matches. They had spells for that after all. Another boy who looked nothing like any of the others sat on the grass beside the boy. He too was watching man, but not with disbelief, more concern. His jet black hair was incredibly unruly, it stuck up at odd angles, especially at the back. He wore glasses like the man, except his glasses were round not horn-rimmed.
He was very thin, his clothes almost seemed to hang off of him. Fleur suspected that the clothes he was wearing were at least two sizes too big for him. She wandered why he would wear anything so big. The sleeves were rolled up at least two, maybe three times. His jeans were incredibly baggy and a black belt was fastened around his waist to keep them in place.
"Just apparated, Dad." A voice, as confident as it was pompous, said loudly. Three more red-haired men were approaching the group. The one who had spoken had his chest thrust out in an air of self importance that Fleur almost found amusing. The man behind him wore a short sleeve shirt that revealed his muscular arms. A large, shiny burn on his arm glistened in the sunlight. He had a good-natured face and smiled at his father. The man behind him, however, was not looking at his family. His eyes had found Fleur watching them from her spot by her tent. His eyes were clouded over and a small, almost delirious smile was on his would be handsome face. Fleur resisted the urge to groan. She knew what would come next. It always happened and there was nothing she could do to stop it.
Being part veela meant that she attracted males without meaning to. It often caused many arguments with her dorm mates when they accused her of trying to steal their boyfriends. She hated it, being stared at like a piece of meat, being insulted because of her heritage.
She quickly looked away from the man but she could still feel his dream-like gaze on her. The bubbles Gabrielle was producing were now pink and blue bubbles that shone in the sunlight. Apolline Delacour, Fleur's Mama, was looking at her youngest daughter a bemused look on her face.
The day passed quickly for Fleur. She and Gabrielle fetched more water from the well halfway through the day. Fleur saw the man who had been staring at her ealier following her to the well and back. His eyes never left her, even when she returned to her tent. She was sure his eyes were still on her when merchants arrived that night. They were all pushing carts or carrying trays. Every so often they would apparate a few feat so as to get more custom. Apolline took her youngest daughter around the many salesmen giving Fleur time to get her own purchases.
Fleur saw the red-haired man, who had been staring at her earlier, make his way towards her from his tent as soon as Apolline and Gabrielle were gone. She rushed into the huge crowd of people, hoping that she would be able to lose him. She soon forgot about the man and was overwhelmed by the multitude of things on offer. Rosettes, green for Ireland and Red for Bulgaria, that sang the names of the players, miniature figures of the Quidditch players that moved about and waved at her, flags which sang the national anthem of their respective countries when waved and Firebolts that flew a few feet in the air.
She was looking at a tray of omnioculars when a voice disturbed her. "Hi," Fleur whipped around, her hand shooting to her wand which was located in the inside pocket of her coat. She didn't let go when she saw who had spoken. The man who had stared at her that noon was now smiling widely at her, his glazed eyes making a sudden anger burst up inside her. "I'm Bill Weasley."
She didn't respond, she didn't dare. She knew that once she said anything that this, Bill Weasley, would take that as his opportunity to talk endlessly for the rest of the night. Maybe even try and force himself upon her.
"And you are?" Fleur had to force herself to not to groan at these words. She had spent the last seven years being forced to deal with this kind of behaviour at school. She was supposed to be on holiday. She should be able to avoid this. The behaviour that made her skin crawl. She had yet to encounter a male who didn't stare at her as though she was a possession.
"I'm sure you have a beautiful name," he continued, oblivious to the effect he was having on Fleur. "A beautiful name, for a beautiful lady." Fleur snapped, the part inside of her that loathed the gazed look on Bill Weasley's face. The only way she saw out of this was to use her ability. Just to get away from him. She didn't know him, but she knew that whoever he may be wasn't in control. The lustful side of him had taken over. It was only a matter of time that the lust broke all the self control he had left. He had been staring at her all day and now she knew he was going to make his move. She could see it in those glazed eyes.
Fleur stepped away from him and turned on the spot grabbing the first boy she saw. She hoped that this would work. That this male would have more control than Bill Weasley. Even if he didn't his lust hadn't been building up all day. It would be easier to control, to manipulate to her needs. She had to get away from him. At any cost.
"Where 'ave you been?" she demanded, putting her lips against the unknown boys. The lips were soft, not rough and lustful like all other kisses she had experienced. To her surprise he didn't kiss back. He didn't pull back either, but Fleur suspected that was due to pure shock that she had spontaneously kissed him. Slowly, uncertainly, she felt him kiss her back. His lips opened slightly and Fleur slid her tongue into his mouth and was sliding it over his teeth and exploring the depths of his mouth. Her mind seemed to cloud over as the boys tongue began to fight for control. It was now his turn to explore her mouth. Her hands were in his hair and she could feel his on the small of her back, pulling her closer. It was complete bliss. She had never experienced anything like it. Her mind had lost control of her body. The need for oxygen soon became overwhelming and Fleur was forced, reluctantly, to pull away.
It was only then that she was able to identify who she had been kissing so passionately. She had never felt anything like it. The unfamiliar feeling of passion had taken control of her. Her mind had gone completely blank and her body had taken over. She stared at the boy recognising him immediately.
"Harry!" Bill shouted, the surprise at seeing Harry Potter kissing the girl he had been lusting after all day causing his eyes to clear. The lust that had filled them moments ago were now wide with shock and mingled with anger.
Harry was staring at Fleur his mouth slightly open. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He didn't seem to have heard Bill. Fleur felt her stomach know when Harry's eyes met hers. They weren't lustful, like Bill's had been. There was something in his eyes that Fleur had barely ever seen before and couldn't place.
Harry opened his mouth to speak but suddenly two people appeared out of nowhere. The bushy haired girl Fleur had seen earlier and the tall red-haired boy that had been sitting near Harry. The boy was staring, open-mouthed, at Fleur.
"Harry, do you want to get a pair?" the girl asked, unaware of the kiss that Fleur and Harry had just shared. Fleur wondered if he felt the same way she did. If he had felt the passion that had filled the kiss. Something had seemed so right about Harry's lips on hers, like it made sense. She wanted to continue kissing Harry. To feel the spark that had burst into life as soon as Harry's lips had touched hers.
"What?" Harry asked, turning away from Fleur to look at the omnioculars in the girl's hand. "Yeah, sure. I'll, erm, see you later." He smiled at Fleur before his friend. Fleur took the opportunity to disappear into the crowd, ignoring the sinking feeling in her stomach. She wasn't concentrating on escaping Bill Weasley anymore, instead she wanted to know when she would next meet Harry Potter.
The game between Bulgaria and Ireland had been spectacular. The best Harry had ever seen. The skill the Irish had shown when compared to the determination of the Bulgarians had been breath taking. Krum's performance had shown Harry just how good you had to be to go professional. He wished that he could. To hear the cheers of thousands of people as he soared across the pitch would be like a dream come true for Harry.
But it was not dreams of Quidditch that kept Harry awake that night, nor was it the victorious chants of the Irish supporters as they passed by the tent. He stared at the canvas roof of the roof of the tent but he wasn't really seeing it. Instead he was seeing the beautiful face of the unknown girl he had kissed earlier that day. Her deep blue eyes stared back at him as he imagined her delicate features.
The Quidditch game had driven her completely from his mind but now that he was away from the cheering crowd his thoughts returned to her. He had never felt anything like it before. The only feeling he could compare it to was when he had first discovered he was a wizard. That sense of joy at being told he didn't have to spend the rest of his life with the Dursley's. He wanted nothing more than to see her again. To be able talk to her or at least understand why she had kissed him.
Not that he regretted it. If anything he wanted to do it again. To feel her lips on his. He had been able to forget Voldemort and his nightmare a few nights ago. But no matter how much he wanted to repeat the kiss he doubted that she ever would. Why would she want to kiss him, after all? She was beautiful and from what he could tell a few years older than he was. Didn't she want to be with someone her own age and not a fourteen year old boy? Little did he know that a only few tents away Fleur Delacour was thinking almost the same as he was.
Fleur wasn't quite sure when she fell asleep. She only knew that when she awoke, she awoke to screams. Terrified screams, screams that made Fleur's blood run cold. She could hear running footsteps and beneath the cries of fear and pain she could hear another sound: laughter. What was happening? She leapt out bed, snatching her wand up from her bedside table. Her only thought was to find her family. She had to make sure they were safe.
She rushed out the tent, the wet grass flattening under her bare feet. She stared at the campsite. Fleur could see people running towards the forest. They were running away from something in the distance that she couldn't quite see. Her heart seemed to stop as a jet of red light blasted a man off his feet. He was catapulted into a tent which, a second later, was set on fire. A woman changed direction and ran to help the man but she o was blasted off her feet. The sudden fire illuminated the scene before her.
A small group of people were walking down the main pathway, their faces hidden by hoods and masks. Each had their wand pointing into the sky. Fleur looked up and stared, horrified, at the group of four struggling figures above the men. They wre struggling to free themselves of their invisible bonds but the more they struggled the more their bodies were bent into grotesque shapes. Two of them were small, young children. Both were crying helplessly, fighting against the magic being used against them.
One of the marchers below flipped the elder woman, who looked like the children's mother, upside-down. Her nightdress fell down to reveal her drawers. She struggled, desperately trying to cover herself up. The marchers jeered and laughed.
"Fleur!" Apolline Delacour shouted, her voice a mixture of relief and fear. Fleur turned to her mother. She too was wearing only her nightclothes. Gabrielle stood next to her mother. Tears flowing freely down her face. She was clutching at her mother's nightdress as though it was the only real thing in the world. Her father, who was standing to Fleur's right looked round at the exclamation. His face was white, and his dark eyes were burning with fury. Fleur had never seen her father this angry before.
He opened his mouth to say something but a sudden explosion ripped through the night. Fleur screamed in surprise as the tent that she had just been sleeping in exploded. The metal poles shattered and the canvas ripped apart. Debris flew at Fleur and she dived to the ground, her wand went flying out of her hand as she hit the damp grass. She stared at it. Her only weapon, her only defence. She had to reach it.
She began to crawl forwards, towards her wand. The laughter was getting nearer and nearer. She could hear her parent's shouting spells. Blinded by the bright jets of light above her but she continued to crawl forwards. Her ears were ringing as more explosions filled the air around her. She was only inches away from her wand. She could almost reach out and grab it. She could see Gabrielle's sobbing form on the ground neat by. She had to help her sister.
She extended an arm, her hand reaching for her wand. She could feel the smooth wood beneath her fingers as her hand closed around the handle of her wand. She pushed herself up off the ground with her free hand. She turned to see a hooded and masked marcher point her wand at her mother who was too preoccupied fighting the others to notice.
"Stupefy!" Fleur yelled, the jet of red light shot out of the end of her wand and hit the man square in the face. He flew backwards, crashing into the wreckage of a nearby tent. Her father looked around at her spell.
"Fleur run, take Gabrielle, get to the forest!" he ordered, ducking to avoid a jet of green light. "Now!"
Fleur looked between her sister, who had now managed to get to her feet, and her father. She knew there was only one thing she could do. She grabbed her sister's hand and sprinted away from the campsite and towards the forest. Her father could look after himself but Gabrielle was different. She didn't have a wand. She wasn't trained for this. Fleur needed to keep her sister safe.
The lights that had lit the way to the pitch earlier that night had been extinguished. Fleur could see dark figures blundering blindly through the trees. She could hear other children's cries of fear and panicked shouts reverberating through the forest trees. The screams and explosions were getting closer. Tugging at Gabrielle's hand Fleur continued deeper into the forest, she had to get away from them.
"Fleur, I can't see." Gabrielle cried, refusing to move.
"Lumos." Fleur muttered. The wand's narrow beam of light revealed a beaten path at Fleur's feet. Another explosion sounded near the edge of the trees. Fleur looked back, the image of her parent's fighting flitted into her mind's eye. She wanted to go back to them to help them. But she knew that they would be able to survive. They were fighters. She had to get Gabrielle to safety. And with that thought she pulled Gabrielle down the path.
After almost five minutes of walking Fleur hadn't met anyone. The trees were getting thicker the further they went into the forest. Fleur didn't want to stop walking. Walking gave the impression that she had some kind of plan. The truth was that she had no idea what to do, other than get as far away from the marcher's as possible. It was only when Fleur turned a corner in the path did she come to an abrupt halt.
"It's people like you, Ron!" a sudden voice said hotly. The voice was coming from a point that her wandlight couldn't pierce. Slowly she made her way forwards. She clasped Gabrielle's hand in hers pushing her sister behind her. She could hear the blood pounding in her ears as she made her way towards the voice. "Who prop up rotten and unjust systems, just because they're too lazy to-"
"Hermione, shut up." Another voice said. A voice that Fleur vaguely recognised. "There's someone behind you." At that exact moment Fleur's wandlight illuminated the people who were talking. She stared at them, almost dropping her wand. Before her stood none other than Harry Potter, his bushy haired friend and the gangly red-haired boy who she had seen earlier. Both the boy and the girl were holding lit wands but Harry' wand was nowhere to be seen.
"You," Harry breathed, after a long moment. The girl's head swivelled from Harry to Fleur and back again. Her mouth slightly agape.
"My name eez Fleur Delacour," Fleur said quickly, sparing Harry the embarrassment of not knowing her name. She knew his, everyone did. But he had no idea of hers. Suddenly she felt a wave of guilt wash over her as she remembered the passionate moment that she had shared with Harry. She had kissed him and then dumped him just as quickly, out of cowardice.
Another explosion sounded from the distant campsite. The girl looked behind Fleur and back at the red-haired boy who was staring at her wide-eyed and afraid. She knew that if the campsite wasn't being attacked by masked marchers and they weren't trying to keep as much distance between themselves and the campsite then the boy would be staring at her like his brother had hours ago. His eyes flicked to Harry and a look of understanding seemed to be shared between the two boys, both looked at the girl.
"We need to go," he said quickly making his way down the path again. The girl followed him quickly leaving Harry, Fleur and Gabrielle alone. Harry didn't say anything, he just looked at her. Not with the lust filled eyes she had grown so used to her over her years at Beauxbaton though. Instead there was something else in his gaze. He didn't speak and neither did Fleur. She could almost hear her heart hammering in her chest. She had thought so much about Harry that night and now she finally had a chance to talk to him she had no idea what to say. She wanted to talk to him about the moment they had shared only hours ago, but the words just wouldn't form in her mouth.
"Ron's right, we'd better get out of here." Harry said after a long silence. Fleur nodded, slightly disappointed. Neither of them moved for a moment, Harry looked as though he was about to say something but shook his head and started to make his way deeper into the woods.
Fleur followed Mr Weasley out of the woods. He strode ahead of her, Hermione and Ron following closely at his heels. They were arguing, but Fleur wasn't listening. Harry, however, hung behind, sticking close to Fleur and Gabrielle. The small girl was holding tightly to her sister's hand, her face white and her eyes wide with fear. Fleur could hardly blame her. In the space of almost half an hour they had seen the Dark Mark, almost been stunned and seen Mr Crouch dismiss his elf.
She too was quite shaken by the night's events but tried not to show it. She had to stay strong for her sister. Gabrielle was relying on her to be strong, to be dependable. Fleur rubbed her sister's small hand with her thumb, smiling down at her, trying to reassure her. Gabrielle's bright blue eyes seemed to brighten at her sister's attempt to comfort her. They walked in silence, Harry's eyes fixed on the three people striding in front of them. He wasn't truly seeing them though. He was thinking about the same things Fleur was, the events that had just transpired.
What troubled Fleur most was not the appearance of the Dark Mark but Crouch's reaction to Winky's involvement. There was something wrong with his reaction. Just because she had been holding the wand didn't mean she had cast the spell. Like Crouch had said himself: who would have taught it her? He had overreacted. But why?
Her thoughts were interrupted as a large group of people surged towards them. They all look frightened, a true fear filled most faces. Voldemort's mark had reminded people of what life had been like for them only fourteen years ago. They didn't look at Harry or any of the others but turned to Mr Weasley. "What's going on in there?" "Who conjured it?" "Arthur, it's not - him?"
"Of course it's not him," Mr Weasley said impatiently. "We don't know who it was, it looks like they Disapparated. Now excuse me, please, I want to get to bed."
He fought his way through the crowd, ignoring the many pleading looks that followed him. The campsite was quiet now, no more explosions or screams. The tents that had been on fire were now only smoking. A sudden memory rose to the surface of Fleur's mind. Her tent had exploded. All of her possessions that she had bought were gone. It was then that Fleur remember her parents. She had not seen them amongst the crowd who had accosted Mr Weasley. She hoped they were alright. They had to be alright. She didn't want to contemplate the other alternative. She forced herself to keep walking. Maybe they would be near their tent.
Once they were away from the crowd he stopped, looking at Fleur for the first time since he had appeared in the wood.
"Fleur, I saw your parents just before I went into the woods. They're waiting for you by your tent. I said I'd take you to them once we got the muggles down." A wave of relief crashed over Fleur at the oldest Weasley's words. They were alive. She looked down at Gabrielle. The small French girl was grinning broadly, tears smearing against the soot and dirt on her face. Her grip on Fleur's hand intensified at the mention of their parents. "You three inside, I'll be back soon."
"Mr Weasley, I'll go." Harry said, surprising everyone and judging by the look his face himself. Fleur stared at him, not quite sure she had heard him correctly.
"Harry, no." Mr Weasley said firmly.
"Whoever those masked people were they've gone." Harry argued, not taking his eyes off of Fleur."I'll be fine."
Mr Weasley looked at him and Fleur could tell that behind his kind eyes a silent battle was going on inside his head. What Harry said made sense, there were no more marchers, the absence of explosions was evidence enough of that. But Fleur had a feeling that Harry wanted to do more than just walk her back. He had been on the verge of speech most of the night, but something had always held him back. She knew what he wanted to talk about, and if she was honest to herself she wanted to not only discuss it but to repeat it.
"Fine, but if you don't come back in five minutes I'll come looking for you." Mr Weasley said, with a small sigh before ushering Ron and Hermione into the tent.
"'Arry," Fleur began, her voice quiet. She had no idea what she was going to say but she knew she had to say something. Though they had only met hours before she felt safe with Harry, as tough no-one could cause her any harm. Even in the wood when she had feared for both herself and her parents Harry made her feel that everything would be all right. It felt right when she had kissed him, almost as though he made up a separate part of her, completed her. She didn't want to lose him, the only male who had stared at her or tried to force himself on her. If anything Harry seemed to be immune to her allure. Just like her parents. They loved each other for who they were not because of Apolline's allure. Could she love Harry? She had only just met him. But she felt drawn to him, had spent most of the night thinking about him.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden, excited shout from Gabrielle. "Mama, Papa!" Fleur looked away from Harry to the point where her sister was running towards. There stood her slightly bruised but beaming parents. Her Papa had a small cut on his face but other than that there were no other visible wounds.
Gabrielle sprinted towards her parents and leapt into their waiting arms. Fleur, however, didn't move. She turned to Harry who was looking almost enviously at Gabrielle and her parents. Fleur knew his story, everyone did. Both of his parents were dead, killed by the man who had given Harry his scar. She could see the lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead hiding under his jet black hair. She understood why the scar was hidden by his hair. He wanted to prevent the stares and the whispers that would follow him round just like the ones that followed her.
"Did you mean it?" Harry asked suddenly, tearing his gaze away from Fleur's parents to look at her. Fleur didn't need to ask what 'it' was. She had wanted to talk to Harry about the kiss since she had stumbled upon him in the woods. But she hadn't and she may never have done. She looked into his emerald green eyes and without thinking, without telling her body to do it, she leant down and kissed him gently on the lips.
The kiss was softer than the only other one she could compare it to. She put all her feelings for Harry into the kiss. She had spoken to him in the woods and she knew that he wasn't arrogant like he so easily could be. He was humble and didn't brag about his fame. He took time to talk Fleur and make sure Gabrielle was safe in the wood. He had stood up against the Ministry wizards they blamed Fleur for casting the Dark Mark. Even though he barely knew her he defended which was more than almost anybody had done for her.
"Is that a yes?" he asked, smiling broadly when she withdrew.
"Oui, 'Arry, zat is a yes." Fleur said, kissing him again. It wasn't until Fleur heard a small giggle behind her that she withdrew. Gabrielle was staring at them her grin threatening to spilt her face in two. Fleur's mother was standing behind Gabrielle trying desperately not to laugh, she too was smiling at her eldest daughter.
"I'll..." His sentence was halted when Fleur pressed her lips against his again. She didn't want him to embarrass himself in front of her parents. She would never hear the end of it.
"Goodnight, 'Arry." She whispered after a long moment.
"Night, Fleur." He said, glancing at her family before turning and making his way back to the Weasley's. No one said a word as Fleur stared after Harry's retreating back.
"He goes to 'Ogwarts," Apolline said, she too was watching Harry as he entered the tent. "Where the Triwizard Tournament is being held."
Fleur smiled, she would have plenty of time to talk to Harry in the following year, even if he didn't know it.
The house of Harry Potter looked very normal, at least normal by wizard standards. There was no extravagant decoration or marble statues outside as most of his fans expected there to be. It was a normal, small, cottage surrounded by fields. The field that was owned by Harry was home to six very large, golden Quidditch hoops. The other fields belonged to neighbouring farmers and villagers who lived nearby. The Quidditch pitch could only been seen by wizards thanks to several spells and wards surrounding it.
The cottage's front garden was very similar to how the Burrow's had been. A wide arrange of flowers nestled near the hedgerows, some finally pruned but others wildly and purposefully untamed. They were an array of colour, red, blue, varying shades of green and one very odd flower bush changed colour depending on the season.
A gravel pathway intersected the two lawns at the front of the house. The path led up to the red front door with the brass, griffin knocker. The pathway was strewn with leaves of different colours, some had fallen from the trees that stood tall and proud in the garden. Others had been swept there by the wind.
A faint pop could be heard in the slight breeze as two people appeared next to the gate that was the entrance to the Potter house. One of them was a woman with long, bushy brown hair that was tied back in a loose ponytail. Her wand was in one hand and small, blonde girl clinging to her other. The six-year old girl was Lily Potter.
Her smile widened as she saw her home. Her blue eyes, which she had inherited from her mother, lit up at the sight. Lily loved her home, but today was special. Her father had returned from his trip to America. He worked as an auror and was often taking trips to other countries to liaise with their magical law enforcement. Ever since the war the Ministries around the world had been far more united.
The front door to the cottage opened and out stepped, the raven-haired auror himself: Harry Potter. His glasses were round, just as they had been when he had been at Hogwarts. His green eyes shone with happiness when he saw his daughter let go of Hermione's hand and sprint towards him.
Lily giggled childishly as her father swept her up in a hug. Her hair fanned out behind her as her father spun her around, his own laughter mingling with hers.
"I missed you, Daddy." Lily said, happily as her father set her down on the gravel path.
"I missed you too, Lil." He said kissing his daughter on the forehead. His gaze shifted to Hermione when he straightened up.
"Thanks for having her, Hermione." Harry said, to his best friend. Lily's mother worked every other Saturday and as Harry had been in America, Hermione had volunteered to look after Lily until he got back. The truth was Hermione loved seeing her goddaughter and took any opportunity to look after her. James and Dominique, Lily's older brother and sister both attended Hogwarts and Lily was the only one left out of Harry's children who didn't attend the ancient school.
"She's no trouble, Harry. Anyway, Rose loves to see her," Hermione grinned. Rose, Hermione's only daughter, was only a year older than Lily.
Behind Harry leaning against the doorway to the kitchen stood his wife. Her long silvery blonde hair falling elegantly down her back. Her bright blue eyes fixed on her daughter's face. She hadn't changed, at least physically, that much since the fateful day that she had met Harry Potter. She still looked young and beautiful, thanks to her Veela blood. Inside, however, was a different story. Her once aloof, cold and critical manner had disappeared. She no longer needed to hide behind the barriers she had spent so long putting up. She loved Harry and he loved her. Some still stared at her with lust filled eyes but she no longer cared.
She had started her relationship with Harry during the Triwizard Tournament. After the Quidditch World Cup she had sent letters to Harry, telling him about the Tournament and that she would be seeing him that year. He had sent many replies over the time that she wasn't at Hogwarts. She had never gotten so many letters. Both she and Harry had been their school champions. The more she knew him the more she came to love him. He had shown her that she could be loved, something she had doubted at Beauxbaton. The end of the year had been the worst. That was when Voldemort had returned. She hadn't wanted to leave Harry alone in Britain with Voldemort back. She took a job at Gringotts and joined the Order of the Phoenix. But even then she hadn't been able to see Harry.
She never left Harry when she could help. She stayed with him right to the end and helped him finish off Voldemort. Their life after had been hard to keep private but eventually they were left alone. Harry had been able to join the aurors and Fleur continued her job at Gringotts. They got married soon after Voldemort's demise and Fleur could never remember being happier. They spent most of the summer in France with her parents and Christmas was spent in England. Her parents, Gabrielle her husband and children came over to celebrate the Christmas holidays. Hermione and Ron took turns with Harry and Fleur to host the Boxing Day or Christmas Eve celebrations.
"Dad, you're not going to leave again are you?" Lily asked, hugging Harry's leg tightly. He laughed and smiled down at his daughter.
"Not any time soon, Lils." Harry said.
"Mama!" Lily cried noticing Fleur for the first time. Fleur smiled brightly at her daughter and swept her up in a hug. Lily resembled Fleur as much as James resembled Harry. Fleur often thought that she was looking at herself but Lily was very much like her father. She loved her family and was incredibly loyal to her friends, mainly Rose. She also had her father's love for Quidditch. Harry had taught her how play and she was better than James had been at her age, James was the top chaser and captain on the Gryffindor house team.
"Hello, Hermione." Fleur said as she put Lily down. Fleur had lost her accent over the years she had spent in Britain. She could still speak fluent French and had taught Harry and her children to do the same.
"Hi, Fleur." Hermione grinned, a sudden beeping filled the air and Hermione drew a golden watch from her pocket. She flipped it open and sighed. "I've got to go, Ron's just about to go to work. Rosie will need looking after. Harry, Molly wants to know if you'll come to dinner on Tuesday." Fleur and Harry often went to the Burrow for dinner. Many of the Weasley's did, including Bill. Fleur was now on good terms with Bill and in a way she owed him a lot. If it had not been for him she may never have talked to Harry and fallen in love with him.
"Yeah I think I can come, Kingsely doesn't want me back at work until Thursday." Harry said much to Lily's delight.
"Will you play Quidditch with me, Daddy?" Lily asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Now."
"Go and get the brooms, I'll be with you in a minute." Harry told his daughter who ran off immediately to the broom shed.
"I'll see you Tuesday then, Harry. Fleur, I might be at the bank on Monday." Hermione said quickly before giving both Fleur and Harry a hug. She gave them a small wave and then turned and walked back down the gravel path. Fleur leant her head on her husband's shoulder as they watched Hermione leave. She felt his hand move and touch the scar on his forehead. It hadn't hurt him once since the day of Voldemort's death. It was over.
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