'Thoughts'

"French"

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Author's Note: This is my submission to the Harry/Fleur Anniversary collection.

Special Thanks to doernerkint, author of Keeping Pace, and Hiding and Masking. He spent hours helping me edit and offering his thoughts. So, please go and check out his work. It's really good.

For anyone who loves the Harry/Fleur pairing, hop on over to the Flowerpot discord server: discord . gg / flowerpot (Just remove the spaces)

A Meeting in a Crowd

PART ONE

'Two days and it'll be six years since I left,' thought the green-eyed traveller.

He'd stopped at a news stand, the front page of La Voix Internationale having drawn his attention. Harry couldn't help the feeling of melancholy as he stood there like a rock in the river of Parisian shoppers.

His mind elsewhere, he thought of those he left behind. For all the crap life had dealt him prior to Voldemort's defeat, he'd hoped things would finally go his way afterwards. But they hadn't, at least not for him.

His godson it seemed, would never be a part of his life, while the love of his life was in love with his best friend... He was unable to return to Hogwarts. The only place that ever truly felt like a home to him, had become a reminder of all those that had passed. He couldn't understand how so many were able to simply step back into the castle as if nothing had changed.

Instead of returning to Hogwarts, an alternative to schooling was offered to him. The war had left a serious hole in the department of law enforcement. So, an accelerated auror course was introduced, and Kingsley wanted him to join. He'd tried, and excelled at it, but his fame prevented him from actually doing the job. He was too noticeable, people would fawn over him left, right, and centre. On busier days, even a simple trip to the store needed a disguise. You can't be an effective auror when you needed to patrol and suddenly all eyes are on you...

It all became too much. By the end of the sixth month, he'd isolated himself, and even then, the press still seemed to publish articles about him. Some speculating, while others claimed to have seen him doing anything and everything.

The final nail in the coffin behind his departure from the British Isles, Ron and Hermione's wedding. Though his friends had never intended to make him feel as such, he'd become the third wheel to their little bubble of bliss. A piece of furniture which faded into the background while they lost themselves to each other. It was painful, seeing them together, while he was slowly forgotten.

Despite his romantic feelings for his bookish friend, he could never interfere in their relationship. Ron was a brother to him in all but blood, and to betray him like that, there'd be no coming back... He'd come to understand then, how his friend must have felt in the tent, with the locket feeding his envy and anger.

What made him hate himself, was that beneath it all, he hoped that their relationship didn't work out, that Hermione would one night come running to him.

So, when they announced their engagement over Sunday lunch at the Weasleys. While everyone cheered and congratulated, only George noticed the hurt that crossed his face. Before he masked it with a smile that never reached his eyes.

That night, while everyone celebrated. The remaining Weasley twin had joined him outside, having seen him slip out during the festivities.

FLASHBACK

George took a seat beside him on the back porch of the Burrow. They sat together in silence for a moment, before the older Weasley spoke, "So… Hermione?"

Harry's grip tightened around his whiskey tumbler.

"Since when?" Prodded the redhead.

"Since always I guess." He breathed out. "I couldn't tell you when it began. I just never realized until we were on the run…"

George brought out a flask, pouring some of its contents into their glasses.

The young Potter heir sat back, swirling his drink before slowly taking a sip. "It was Christmas. And Ron had already left us…" Despite his mood, the smallest ghost of a smile appeared on his face. "We visited my parent's grave in Godric's Hollow together."

Harry turned his head slightly, glancing towards the older man, "It was the first time I'd ever been, you know. To see my parents that is."

George remained quiet, letting his brother's best friend speak.

The raven-haired young man chuckled. "I'd been in the wizarding world for, what? Seven years? And not one person thought to take me there. Not Dumbledore, not McGonagall, not even your parents…"

"Blimey… Harry, I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he replied, waving off the apology. "It's not on you, and besides, it's in the past now."

George nodded his silent thank you.

The younger man smiled wryly, taking a sip of his drink, before he continued. "When we stood there together, on Christmas Eve, just the two of us. It all just felt so… Right… I couldn't imagine being there with anyone besides her." He sighed. "And then it clicked… All the little pieces fell into place, and everything made sense."

Harry shifted, resting his tumbler against his face.

"I didn't know how to deal with it. She already had feelings for Ron, and to be honest… I didn't expect to make it through the war alive."

George's face grew stark. "Merlin's beard Harry…"

Harry sighed solemnly. "So, I buried it… Pushed it deep and tried not to think about it. And then the war ended. Tom was finally dead and gone, and by the most obscure stroke of luck imaginable. I lived."

His voice grew euphoric for a moment. "For one fleeting moment, the possibilities rushed through my head. There was a chance. I had to tell her how I felt. I was so excited, everything just rushed from my mind, and it was all I could think of. I was about to go find her."

George sighed knowingly, his shoulders sagging, "and in she walks holding Ron's hand. Yeah… I remember that bit."

"I was too late," he chuckled sadly.

"What are you going to do now?" asked the older Weasley curiously.

"I don't know" replied Harry, "I really don't know…"

"Want to know what I think you should do?"

Harry looked up; his brow scrunched together in expectation.

"I think you oughta get away for a while. Don't believe you've ever been anywhere outside of the isles, have ya?"

"No," Harry shook his head, "never had the chance."

"Then that's what you're going to do," said George as if the matter was settled, "hanging around here won't do you any good."

"I don't know what the Goblins left you with," he continued quickly, "but you have your share of the business. It's enough to get by on." He paused, "just please, stay for the wedding. For them."

END OF FLASHBACK

It had taken him a long time and a lot of help to move on from Hermione, and he found he missed his friends dearly. His mind drifted from them to his godson Teddy. Only recently had Andromeda replied to one of his letters. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

In the year before he left England, though he'd taken up the mantle of Godfather, neither Remus nor Tonks had found the opportunity to declare him as such in their wills. This meant Andromeda had full custody, and she wanted absolutely nothing to do with him or any of the Order. He was loath to attempt forcing his inclusion. His reputation would only serve to place the grieving woman in the crosshairs of the public's ire. She didn't deserve that.

He'd been forced to take a step back, with thoughts that perhaps someday, she'd extend him an olive branch. At the time, all he could do was set up a trust in Teddy's name, with enough to see him through any path in life. Despite it all; letters, postcards, souvenirs, he sent them anyway, and it seemed his persistence had borne fruit.

Lost in thought, a crash into his legs nearly sent him stumbling into the newspaper stand. Looking down, he saw a blonde girl, maybe around the age of six. She must have been moving quickly through the crowd and not have seen him standing there. Feeling something cold and wet on his leg, he found the remains of the girl's ice cream slowly sliding down his trousers.

"Désolé," offered the girl cutely, one of her front teeth missing, before noticing her ruined treat. She was on the verge of tears when Harry was about to speak up, before his response was cut off by a woman's call.

"Victoire!"

The woman, who must have been the little girl's mother, pushed through the crowd and immediately began fussing over her daughter.

"Don't run off like that, my Angel. You have to wait for me."

Harry watched the woman, who wore a baby blue summer dress with her hair loose around her shoulders. He'd yet to see her face properly with the daughter blocking the view, but he felt a sense of familiarity hearing her voice.

Seeing her daughter near tears, the mother immediately asked what was wrong.

"My ice cream…" the child almost sobbed.

The woman glanced over her daughter's shoulders, spotting its stain on Harry's pants and realizing what must have occurred. She stood and began to apologize.

"Je suis désol-" she tried but her voice died in her throat as her eyes met his.

Harry's breath caught just as suddenly, "-Fleur?"

The young woman's eyes focused, as she looked him over properly. He was tall, with a slight beard, and wearing a sweater with the sleeves rolled up. She'd recognize that mop of black hair anywhere, as well as those vivid green eyes and plain round glasses.

"…'Arry?" her voice wavered.

The young man smiled brightly. "It's me. How are you? It's been a while."

Still a bit thrown by the turn of events, she answered awkwardly. "I'm good…"

Her daughter tugged on her dress. Remembering the ice cream staining his pants, she hastily apologized, "désolé 'Arry, let me." Pulling out her wand, she waved it at his leg, all traces of the ice cream disappearing as Harry thanked her.

"You remember Victoire?" she motioned her daughter forward, as the little girl watched him curiously.

"I remember," he affirmed with a nod, "though she was still a baby when I left."

Fleur, reminded of his sudden departure those years ago, immediately stepped forward, poking him in the chest. "And who's fault is zhat 'Arry? You don't visit! And zhen you send letters with no return address!?"

Harry shrunk under the angry Veela's onslaught. "I'm sorry…" he raised his hands, "I needed to get away, and before I knew it. So many years had gone by."

"I'll accept zhis apology, but- *poke* do *poke* not *poke* do *poke* it *poke* again!"

The young man rubbed his chest, feigning hurt while Victoire laughed at him, clearly finding his predicament amusing.

"How about we go replace her ice cream? My treat," offered Harry, wanting a chance to catch up with the beautiful woman.

Fleur, having calmed down, nodded with a smile. "Oui, you can tell me about where you've been."

"Glad to, but let's get off the street first."

Victoire's English wasn't at the level of her French, but at the words "ice" and "cream" her face lit up. The little girl grabbed Fleur's hand and began dragging her towards the ice cream parlour. Harry laughed lightly before following the pair.

Harry took a seat at their table, placing the tray with their orders down. Milkshakes for Fleur and himself, along with a …bubblegum-flavoured ice cream for Victoire. The excited girl immediately grabbed hers as soon as it was within reach.

"Victoire…" Fleur warned with a stern gaze.

Realizing her lacking manners, the tiny human looked up, her mouth already covered in blue. "Merci," she mumbled, before completely ignoring them in favour of her ice cream.

The pair chuckled fondly at the girl's antics.

"So 'Arry. Where 'ave you been all zhis time? Your letters were always…comon dit-on… vague…"

He pursed his lips in thought before raising his eyes to look at her. "When I left England, I had no plan. I wanted to see everything… So, I thought, maybe start somewhere really far away. By the end of the first week, I was on a beach in Argentina. From there it was Brazil, Chile, Peru, was nearly eaten alive there…"

"-Quoi?" interrupted the blonde.

Harry chuckled. "The problem with travelling by broom is that the warning signs are on the ground… And of course, with my luck, I'd flown into a bloody dragon reserve. Now, if you thought the horntail was fast, then you haven't seen a Vipertooth fly… The mad thing chased me for hours."

"Of course, only you 'Arry…" moaned Fleur with a palm to her forehead, "ow many times did you nearly die while away?"

The young man paused, realizing his blunder, "…uhm, I'd rather not say…"

Fleur glared in response, making him squirm.

"Fine, fine…" he caved. Suddenly finding the décor interesting, he mumbled under his breath, "...twelve, maybe?"

"Excuse-moi" gasped Fleur, leaning forward as he shrunk, "did you say twelve?"

Victoire laughed at his sheepish nod, while her mother sighed, shaking her head mournfully, "what will we do with you…"

"To be fair, most of them weren't even my fault," he defended ruefully.

She raised an eyebrow in response, a teasing smirk on her lips, "I will be zhe judge of zhat. Now, tell me more."

Harry took a sip of his drink. "Some of the places I came upon, the magic… "he said wondrously, as Fleur watched him. "In South America, I saw ruins so steeped in blood sacrifice that even going near them made you sick, and magical rainforests that made the dark forest seem tame… Not everything was doom and gloom though. In North America, I went with a wandmaker to collect wood in a forest with trees so old they felt sacred, and witnessed a thunderbird's storm."

The young man's voice grew excited. "That remains one of the most incredible things I have ever seen. There I was, on a mountaintop in Arizona, and all of a sudden a bird's cry echoed for miles... Moments later I had to take cover, and wait out the biggest storm of my life… Every so often, when lightning would strike, you could see the bird's shadow in the clouds..."

"C'est incroyable…" whispered Fleur in amazement, "to Veela, witnessing such a storm is considered an honour and a blessing, 'Arry."

The beautiful Veela paused, seemingly struggling with something. When she spoke, her words were hesitant. "Perhaps, someday,... You could show me zhis place? It would mean a lot to me, to us," she added, patting her daughter on the head gently.

Harry smiled at the pair, "I'd love to."

Fleur returned his smile, her cheeks pinking slightly as she swirled her milkshake around with the straw before speaking again. "It sounds like you 'ad an amazing few years. I 'ave visited many places with my family, but never… 'ow do zhe English say…, off zhe beaten path?"

Harry nodded knowingly, ignoring her obvious dig at his language. "It's not always a good idea, there were times when my luck went balls up. I learnt a valuable lesson when exploring the world, especially if you're alone… Carry a damn portkey…"

Fleur giggled into her hand, "let me guess? You got lost…"

The young man blinked twice, "uh, yeah… and shame on you for laughing. The locals gave me crap directions…"

"Since you're 'ere now, you clearly found your way back. So, tell me zhen, what 'appened," she inquired further, leaning forward.

Harry mirrored her before continuing, closing the distance between them. "It was while in Africa. Thankfully, I was found by a man who just happened to be a wizard, or a shaman according to him."

The raven-haired traveller grimaced, thinking of the experience. "He was a bit of a prat though. It turned out he'd been following me for days and thought me being lost was the best thing since sliced-bread…" complained Harry testily, getting annoyed just thinking about it.

Fleur's musical laughter had Victoire tugging her arm for an explanation, after which the little girl stared at him as if he were a complete idiot, asking, "Ou-est la carte? Uh, uh, le map?"

Harry felt as if the floor would swallow him whole, "...no, I hadn't thought of it then."

The girl nodded matter-of-factly, as if confirming his idiocy, before returning to her bowl. He turned to Fleur in confusion, the beautiful Veela just shook her head with a fond upturn of her lips.

"Don't mind my daughter's…observations. Please, do continue."

"The shaman was able to do the most amazing thing, he could shapeshift into so many different animals… It's how I never noticed I was being followed. I practically begged him to teach me."

Fleur nodded, "I've 'eard of zhem, wizards in Africa who showed zhis ability."

"Unfortunately he couldn't pass on the knowledge, but," he paused. "I was able to get him to help me with becoming an animagus. His words were 'maybe it will keep you from getting lost', then he called me a mjinga, said to follow him, and just walked off…"

"Whatever zhat is, it must be true," she teased, "but zhis is exquisite, what are you?" she asked excitedly, to which he smiled proudly.

"A dog," he answered, "like Sirius."

"Zhat is wonderful …" said Fleur, "I never really got a chance to know 'im, but from what I 'eard, 'e was a good man."

"The best…" he added.

"Perhaps you could tell me about 'im?" she asked, glad to have done so when his face lit up.

"I'd like that."

The pair spent the greater part of the afternoon enjoying each other's company. He regaled the mother daughter pair with stories from his time away, and of Sirius and his parents.

Though English clearly wasn't Victoire's first language, something which surprised him greatly. While she couldn't understand parts, Fleur would take a moment to explain some of the more amusing bits to her in French, leaving out the scary parts. The awed gasps and hero-worshipping stares which followed reminded him fondly of Colin, now if she suddenly pulled out a camera...

The further into the afternoon they went, the more Harry was entranced. Fleur had always been incredibly beautiful, but he'd never seen her this carefree. There was a lightness to her that was inspiring. As if all the weight from her shoulders had been lifted.

Perhaps she'd never truly felt at home in England, or perhaps she'd simply never had the chance. The stresses of the tournament and her peers when he first met her, followed by the disapproval she suffered at the hands of the two Weasley women, and lastly the war which weighed heavily on them all.

But now he saw the real Fleur. The one who was joyful and kind, the one who took the time to include her daughter. The one who snorted when her laugh got out of control, and blushed furiously when it happened. He felt his heart racing, and couldn't help but find it to be the most charming thing he'd ever seen.

Fleur tried to cover her face, hiding her embarrassment. It was then that he noticed the lack of a ring on her finger. His eyes widened.

'Did something happen while I was away?'

'Where was Bill? Is he alright?'

'Was she here in France without him?'

'Maybe she just lost the ring?'

He glanced at Fleur's daughter, as more and more questions came to mind.

'Is this why Victoire's English is so poor?'

Though they had never truly gotten to spend time together before, just the two of them. He'd respected and admired the older blonde. She'd fallen in love while alone in a foreign country, and when war struck. Instead of running, when none would have blamed her for doing so. She'd stayed and fought a war that wasn't hers. She fought for friends and family, for people in a country that was prejudiced towards her kind.

"Uhm, Fleur?" asked Harry hesitatingly.

"Oui?" she responded, confused at his sudden change in demeanour.

He gestured towards her hand. "I'm… not sure if I should ask. But, did… something happen with Bill?"

Glancing at her ring finger, her brows furrowed. "You couldn't 'ave known," she concluded with a sad sigh.

Harry kept still, waiting until she was ready to continue. Fleur turned her attention sideways, running her fingers gently through her daughter's hair.

"William and I are divorced…"

Harry's eyes widened in shock before returning to normal again. "I'm sorry to hear that, what happened?" he asked, before apologizing profusely, "I'm sorry, it's none of my business. I shouldn't have asked."

"Non, you've given me your story, it is only fair zhat I do zhe same," said Fleur, giving her daughter's head a kiss before facing him.

With a smile that tore at his heartstrings, she began. "Victoire was three at zhe time. You see, 'Arry, when William came back from Egypt during zhe tournament, 'e 'ad only really done so because of zhe war… to be zhere for 'is family. But once everything settled, 'e became… restless. It started slow, but ze longer things went on, zhe more 'e wanted to return to Egypt. 'E needs excitement and danger in 'is life. I thought zhat when our daughter was born, it would get better, and it did, but only for a while."

Harry conjured a glass, filling it with water for her. Taking a sip she thanked him before continuing.

"We fought and argued, and zhe longer things went on, zhe more bitter we became. I was not 'appy, and neizher was Bill."

Fleur's voice hardened. "One day, I came 'ome and he was gone, a letter left behind to inform me zhat he had taken a job with zhe goblins, zhat he will be back in three weeks. 'E left me alone to care for Victoire while 'e ran off. "

"I was so mad, and so was Molly."

"But," she relented, "after I'd calmed down, I still wanted things to work out between us. I told myself zhat I would speak with 'im when 'e returned."

"What happened?" prodded Harry softly, meeting her eyes.

"Well, days turned to weeks and then weeks to months. By zhe fourth, I was so worried, worried zat something 'ad gone wrong."

Her voice became heated, "I went to the goblins over and over and zhey said nothing! Between my own thoughts, and caring for Victoire, I was not sleeping. I was sick, and tired," her anger died as she finished off, her voice a whisper, "and I just wanted 'im to be ok…"

Fleur took a deep breath, gathering herself before continuing. "Zhen 'e came 'ome, and I cried and screamed and 'e accepted it. But when I said not again, zhat 'e was never to dive into another tomb for zhe goblins again, zhat it was too dangerous. Bill couldn't accept zhat, and again we fought… it was zhe worst one..."

"So, I made 'im choose," she said with finality. " It was either curse breaking, or us…"

Wiping a tear from the corner of her eye, "when 'e 'esitated, I knew we would never come first… Molly zhought I was overreacting… And maybe I was, but 'e didn't fight for us, non, 'e just signed zhe papers and left again."

"I- I don't know what to say, I'm so sorry, Fleur," comforted Harry.

"Non… In zhe end it was for zhe best," she said, moving to wipe some ice cream from her daughter's face, the little girl squirming under the firm movement. "I took Victoire, and we came back to France. She still sees 'er grandparents, and zhey all send letters and gifts for Christmas and 'er birthday."

Remembering the date, Harry spoke, "that reminds me, it's in two day's isn't it? She was born on the anniversary if I recall?"

"Oui," she confirmed with a smile, "it is where the name 'Victoire' comes from."

Looking up from her daughter, Fleur eyed Harry hopefully. "Would you come for 'er birthday?" she asked him, before translating for the little girl.

Harry couldn't refuse the puppy eyes thrown his way by the girl. "I'll be there," he promised.

Fleur rushed to get everything prepared for her daughter's special day. A few of her cousins and their kids would be present, as well as some friends from her daycare. Her mother and sister were in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on the cake, while her father made himself useful in the best way he knew when they were in such a frenzy. Staying the hell out of the way. He did so by keeping Victoire entertained while they waited for the guests to arrive.

A knock sounded through the door as she moved past, her arms still filled with last minute decorations. She dropped them on the nearest chair, quickly moving to answer.

Meanwhile Harry stood outside the elegant home. It was large, but felt homely in that beautiful, rustic way you'd find in old villas, brickface walls covered in perennial flowering vines, melded with plastered and painted surfaces. A lovely angel fountain in the front filled with crystal clear water.

He found himself nervous. He hoped his gift was good enough. The only kid he'd ever sent birthday gifts to was Teddy. Though coming to think on it, he wasn't entirely sure Andromeda would have approved of some of what he had sent.

The fastest kids broom on the market, maybe not, but the 'ever returning boomerang' had to be alright. Right? It was charmed to be as harmless as a soft plushy. What the young man failed to realize, was that while it couldn't harm a living thing. It could harm everything else inside the house…

He was pulled out of his musings by the front door opening, revealing a flustered Fleur. His breath caught by her appearance. She wore a dark blue plaid skirt that ended just above her knees and a white blouse, while her hair was done up in a classical French braid. She was slightly pink in the face from exertion, her voice gaining a breathless quality to it.

"Arry"

The young man smiled, trying to hide his nervousness from the beautiful woman.

"Hi, I'm a bit early," he admitted apologetically, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Non, it's alright," she replied, stepping to the side, "come in."

Harry got a whiff of her perfume as he entered. She smelt of fresh morning flowers, with a hint of something citrusy. He couldn't tell which fruit exactly, but he liked the summery quality of it.

Before she could offer him a seat, her father entered the room with a laughing Victoire on his shoulders. He was a jovial looking man. The sort who often saw the humour in things, and rarely ever angered.

"Ah, Papa, this is-"

"-Harry Potter," interrupted the man, his accent almost non-existent, "we've met, ma petite." Victoire waved at him from her perch.

Harry waved back, before offering the man his hand.

"It's good to see you again, Mr. Delacour."

"Likewise, young man, and it's Jean, Mr. Delacour makes me feel old," replied Fleur's father, shaking his hand cheerfully. "Let's leave my daughter to finish what she was doing, before she shoos us. Help me outside?"

With a glance at Fleur, who nodded and as her father said, smiled while making a shoo-ing motion with her hand. Harry handed her the dessert he'd brought along. A treacle tart of course, and followed the older man.

Once outside, Jean let Victoire down as a young dog ran over, just passed its puppy years. The fluffy pup stopped to sniff him before barking once and running circles around him while wagging its tail. The little girl laughed at its antics before chasing it.

"That was interesting," observed Jean. "Jolie doesn't usually take to strangers that fast…"

Harry grinned knowingly, "I think I know why."

Jean glanced at him, brows furrowed briefly, before shrugging and leading him to a grill. Clearly, barbecue was the menu theme for the day, something he'd grown to love after his time in Argentina. What surprised him though was that Jean was doing everything the muggle way.

As if answering the unasked question, he explained, "one of Victoire's new daycare friends is a muggleborn to a single mother. I thought it might make them feel more included, a bit of familiarity."

Harry nodded, agreeing with the man. "I've done this both the muggle way and with magic, and to be entirely honest, Jean. Doing it with magic, oddly enough, takes the magic out of it."

Fleur's father chuckled, "I can believe that; this is rather fun," he pulled out his wand, lighting the fire with a wink, "but I will be cheating just a little bit."

The pair continued chatting for a while, Harry had found he enjoyed the older man's company. Jean, like Fleur, had asked about his travels, and though he seemed curious enough to dig deeper, he still avoided any topics that might become uncomfortable.

When Gabrielle made an appearance, ahead of the newly arrived guests, Harry almost didn't recognize her. The girl he pulled from the lake all those years ago, had grown into a truly stunning young woman.

"Papa, 'Arry," she greeted, a shadow of mirth dancing behind mischievous blue eyes.

Jean, occupied with the grill, opened an arm for a casual half hug.

"Gabrielle," replied Harry with a grin as the young woman smiled shyly before she faced her father again.

"The guests will be here any minute Papa. Mama wants you to start with the food."

To his relief, the party consisted of a small group of people. Maybe five or six families, along with a handful of relatives without kids. Though they were surprised to see Harry Potter of all people there, there were some of Fleur's family who remembered that she was acquainted with him.

He found himself enjoying his time greatly. Fleur's family were a lovely bunch, though they weren't as chaotic as the Weasleys. They were honest, good, genuine people who he had no qualms being around. Harry compared the birthday to those of his youth, and wished that someday his children would be as happy as this.

The young man couldn't help but miss the occasions spent with his own loved ones. While travelling he'd been mostly alone, and sure he met people and dined with them but he'd not celebrated a birthday since leaving England, even his own. Among other things, he missed opening presents; the chocolate frogs from Ron, and the books from Hermione.

He felt a hand on his back, gently seeking his attention. Pulled from his thoughts, he found Fleur peering at him intently. Evidently, she'd picked up on his sudden change in mood.

"Are you okay 'Arry?" she asked, her eyes full of concern.

He gave her a reassuring smile, 'I shouldn't ruin the occasion.'

"I'm alright, just a little melancholic is all." With a deep breath, he released the tension that had been building in his shoulders. The soft waves of her allure tickled his senses, he enjoyed the way it felt like a sea breeze, only touching his magic instead of his skin.

"Thank you for inviting me, Fleur."

The beautiful blonde scrutinised his face for a bit, seemingly satisfied with what she found, she returned her attention forward, hiding the tiny upturn of her lips.

"I'm glad you came."

As the afternoon went by, the young raven-haired man found himself holding a lovely conversation with Jean and Apolline, the older Delacour woman was kind and gentle, every movement she made, graceful. Her Veela bloodline kept her appearing young and beautiful. Even Fleur's grandmother, Anaïs, a woman who wouldn't appear out of place in a royal court, had the complexion and energy of someone half her age.

The oldest Delacour was a wealth of information, having lived a long and fruitful life. The Veela matriarch had been a traveller herself in her youth, she'd even met her late husband this way. They compared stories, she told him of places that he'd never even heard of. Of how she once visited the small home her parents had abandoned when the Germans had reached their doorsteps. Of her childhood growing up in a time of war.

When Fleur had called them in, Anaïs palmed his arm and held him back.

At Harry's questioning gaze, she let go of him, holding her hands together at her waist. The words that followed had left a lump in his throat.

"Before we go in, young man, I wanted to say, zhank you, zhank you for fighting, and for stopping zhat man." She looked past him, following her gaze he saw Jean walking into the home carrying Victoire.

"Because of you, our Victoire iz growing up in a time of peace… I remember leestening to my parentz speak of Grindelwald and of zhe war when zhey zhought I was asleep. 'Ow my mozher cried when 'e wanted to send us away. Zhe way my fazher 'eld me tight one morning before 'e left to fight, and 'ow my mozher was never zhe same when zhe war ended and 'e never came 'ome."

Anaïs took a deep breath before continuing, "so, zhank you so much, for making sure our Victoire never 'as to go zhrough zhat."

Emotional and unsure of what to say, he kept quiet as his jaw clenched.

Anaïs sighed and with a small nod and a tearful smile, spoke again. "Forgive an old woman for bringing up such zhings. Let us go inside, I am sure my granddaughter is wondering what is taking us so long."

They walked together but before they could go take their seats, Anaïs held his arm once more.

"One last zhing, a small bit of advice from someone who's been zhere…" Harry gave her his full attention. "Figure out what it is zhat you truly want, what will make you 'appy. Zhen grab it with both 'ands and don't let go."

The young raven-haired man paused for a moment, before resolving himself to do just that. He nodded meaningfully at the woman.

Satisfied, she ruffled his hair in the way only a grandmother could, "now go sit, I will go 'elp my Apolline."

Moments later, he watched as Fleur brought out Victoire's cake. It was a huge thing, covered in blue and pink frosting with little chocolate animals which moved around on top of it. She placed it in front of her eager daughter before taking a seat beside her.

Harry tried his best when they sang the birthday song, his lack of French a serious handicap. Thankfully, his tone deafness didn't ruin things for the girl who squirmed under all the attention and waited impatiently for the chance to blow out her candles.

Once the go ahead arrived, they laughed good naturedly as the candles tried to avoid her breath. They were lovely little bits of charm work, the sort that always left Harry in wonder. The tiny bits of wax were animated, looking like little people, and nimble ones at that.

Eventually, the cake was cut and Harry had to hold back a chuckle when he tasted it.

'Bubblegum again…' Clearly this was a favourite of Victoire's.

Neither Harry nor Fleur noticed Anaïs watching them from her spot. The way they'd randomly seek the other out in the room when neither was looking. She watched as Fleur would find him with her eyes before returning her attention to whatever it was which occupied her. The only change being a smile, small enough that to most it would go unseen. Anaïs shared a knowing look with her daughter, Apolline, having taken note of the same.

Once they'd all had their share of cake, it was time for Victoire to open her gifts. She sat on her grandfather's lap as he helped her remove the more difficult wrappings.

Eventually she'd gotten to Harry's gift, a stuffed plushy of a little blue bird. The cuddly toy flew out of the box, before landing on her head as she squealed joyfully. Fleur smiled at him thankfully as Victoire grabbed the toy, squeezing it tightly.

He chuckled, glad his gift was well received.

It was well into the evening, and most of the guests had left. Harry had opted to stay and help them tidy up. He'd just come back inside with Jean after having vanished the ashes and cleaned the grill.

Fleur and Apolline walked over to them, the older woman thanked him before taking the last of the kitchenware that had been left outside from his arms. Jean followed her, carrying his share and leaving him alone with Fleur.

Harry spotted Victoire fast asleep on the couch, the little birthday girl was deservedly exhausted.

"Merci, 'Arry, you really didn't need to stay and 'elp," said the blonde apologetically.

"I wanted to," he reassured, waving off her concerns.

"I had a great time today," he paused, gesturing towards the home with a tilt of his head, "you have a wonderful family."

She smiled brightly, "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself."

The beautiful Veela suddenly turned teasing. "One of my cousins was very disappointed zhat you cannot speak French. If 'er English was any good, she'd 'ave been all over you."

Harry paused, searching his memory, "I think I know which cousin you're speaking of…" he met her eyes and smirked, "I better start learning."

Fleur laughed, "non, I zhink she would be too much for you 'Arry."

The pair made their way towards the front door, stopping for Harry to say his goodbyes to the rest of the Delacour family, minus Gabrielle, the younger girl having left to spend the evening at her cousin's place.

Harry stopped in the doorway, "thank you all so much for having me over. It was lovely."

Apolline walked over, giving him a friendly hug and a kiss on his cheek, "you are welcome any time 'Arry."

Once her daughter had stepped away, Anaïs moved in. Hugging him goodbye, the older woman whispered in his ear, "remember what I said young man, grab it with both 'ands."

Harry let go of her and nodded seriously. She smiled and made way as Jean shook his hand. "Come again, Harry. I enjoyed our chat."

The young raven-haired man smiled, "so did I.

Greetings out of the way, Harry left them with a goodbye and a round of Au Revoirs, as he followed Fleur outside.

"Zhank you again, 'Arry. We didn't get to speak much but it was nice 'aving you 'ere," said the blonde with a soft smile. Her hair glowing in the lights of the front porch. "And zhank you for Victoire's gift, she really liked it."

"You're welcome," he smiled, before his eyes widened. "Wait, that reminds me."

Fleur watched with confusion as he quickly fished out a small package from his pocket. Tapping it with his wand, he enlarged it slightly.

Handing it over, he spoke, "I got this a while back but at the time, it wouldn't work for me. I thought to give it as Victoire's present, but she'd likely lose it at her age. So instead, I got the plushy, but I want you to take it regardless. Give it to her when she's a bit older, and a bit more responsible."

Opening the package, Fleur found a small compass, around the size of a watch face. "La boussole?… désolé. A compass? She asked, as she inspected it. It was made of silver and covered in small intricate rune etchings. Turning it over she found an engraving on the back. Running her finger over it, she read it softly.

patria est, ubi cor est

"Home is where the heart is," answered Harry.

Fleur eyed him questioningly, wondering about its significance.

Harry pointed at it, "see the hand?"

She nodded to which he explained. "The compass is enchanted to always point home. I remembered how you searched for Victoire in that crowd, and thought that maybe with this, if she ever got lost. She'd be able to find her way back."

Fleur gasped, staring at the little compass in wonder, "But 'Arry, zhis must 'ave cost a fortune!"

Harry shrugged, "I found it at a time when I was feeling truly lost." He paused before sighing, "It never worked for me, because simply put, I didn't have a home… still don't," he added the last part softly enough that Fleur only just barely caught it.

The beautiful Veela's heart ached at the hurt in those two words. Unable to hold herself back, she threw her arms around him. Harry paused, before he breathed out, hugging her back.

"Merci, 'Arry. Zhis is a wonderful gift," she whispered into his shoulder, Harry nodded into her hair in response. When Fleur let go, stepping back into the light, he saw her. His heart beat wildly at the sight, her face was flushed and her eyes shone with unshed tears, the warm evening light reflected in them, highlighting the blues. But it was the smile that got him. Nobody had ever smiled at him that way.

'She's so beautiful…'

Her blush deepened at the intense look in his eyes. Pulling her sleeve over her hand, she rubbed the moisture from her eyes in an attempt to hide her face.

Gathering his courage, Harry took a leap, "ca- can I see you again?"

Fleur's eyes widened, understanding the motivation behind his question. She'd not dated since her divorce from William. She had a daughter now, and therefore wasn't interested in short trysts, any relationship had to be serious. Victoire came first, and caring for her had certainly cut down on any chances for romance. To top it all off, her Veela nature already made finding a meaningful relationship difficult. Men like Harry were rare, most weren't able to withstand the allure to the point where they could unconsciously ignore it.

Eyeing her green eyed friend, she recalled everything she knew of him, he was everything that was good in a man. He was kind and caring, brave… and humble. She remembered how she had first thought him an attention seeker, but then he'd thrown away the chance to win the 2nd task out of worry for her sister, flipping her opinion of him in an instant. Since then she'd grown to deeply respect him.

What she had never mentioned before was that she had a suspicion regarding the reason he had left. Being Veela kept her in tune with the emotions of those around her, and she had noticed his attraction to Hermione. The timing of his departure had only served to reinforce it. But from what she sensed now, he seemed to have moved on. Of course it would take Hermione's presence to be completely sure. She'd have to trust that Harry wouldn't attempt to simply lead her on.

The Harry she saw in front of her was everything the old him was, only more mature, confident and comfortable. She'd watched him throughout the day too, the way he interacted with her family, how he treated her parents and grandmother with the utmost respect. It was especially a surprise to see how the latter had enjoyed speaking with him. She laughed internally, even the dog likes him…

Harry's nerves got more and more frayed the longer she kept quiet. Thinking the worst, his heart fell, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't ha-"

"-Oui, we can." She interrupted, meeting his eyes. Fleur watched as the realisation of her words set in, and found herself smiling when his face lit up in joy.

"Really!?- That's great! Maybe lunch on Friday?"

Fleur giggled, finding his excitement adorable, "Oui," she said again, "you can pick me up 'ere at… one?"

Harry nodded quickly, "Brilliant, uh, I'll see you then?"

The beautiful Veela covered her mouth, laughing softly, "we just said zhat."

"Oh, yeah, so Friday. It's a date?" he asked, just to be sure.

Her musical laughter filled the air. "Oui, 'Arry, it's a date. Now shoo, off with you, I need to put Victoire in bed."

With a step to the back, Harry said his goodbye, along with a last promise to see her in two days' time before disappearing with a silent pop.

END PART ONE