9 - The Life and Times of Harry James Potter

As dinner wound down, Fleur could not shake the unsettled feeling that had come over her. When Harry was so nervous about coming here, she guessed that he was merely anticipating meeting her mother – a daunting prospect for most boys, or so she had heard – but now she was not so sure. His extreme reaction to her grandmother was, after all, rather shocking!

He was perfectly polite throughout the meal, and though his cheeks were stained permanently red from embarrassment, he said nothing about it. It was as though he was doing his best to ignore the issue and move on – which she could respect, but which also did not satisfy her. When combined with her father's warning not to question him, and the statement that he was not used to being held, the situation painted a very disturbing picture in her mind.

But she could do nothing about that at the moment, and instead simply watched him. While he was very quiet, he still made an effort to participate in the conversation, and that impressed her. The strain he was under shone like a beacon in his brilliant green eyes, but he ignored it as best he could, making a concerted effort to be friendly and fit in.

And if that was what he was made of, that incredible inner strength, then she was truly honored that he had agreed to marry her!

It was a very odd concept, but she doubted that she could have picked another that she would rather be with in this situation. It wasn't his looks, or his money, or even his personality per se; it was his sense of nobility. If there was one thing she knew, it was that he would never take advantage of her, and that was worth a tremendous amount!

She was, however, worried about his issues with physical contact. Apart from her family, she herself did not generally allow others to touch her, but there were reasons for that – most notably that boys tended to take it as an invitation for something more. It did not change that she did, in fact, desire that sort of thing!

Would he be able to give that to her? Would he ever be comfortable enough that she could touch him without triggering a negative reaction, and that he would return the gesture in kind? If not, then she would not be terribly happy, not that she could blame him for the problem if her suspicions were correct.

The only thing she could think to do was to test the waters. Her grandmother had accosted him in a rather sudden manner, and that could have had something to do with it. Perhaps if she started slowly and cautiously, she could get him used to the idea...

"Fleur? Are you coming?"

Snapped out of her reverie by her father's call, she focused back on the here and now, and was startled to find everyone rising from the table. Harry was watching her curiously, though she suspected that he understood what had just happened. He, too, had spaced out on several different occasions this night.

"Sorry, Papa," she said sheepishly as she rose gracefully to her feet. "My mind was wandering."

Her father nodded understandingly. "Come," he smiled. "We will retire to the living room. I 'ave an idea that may be a fun way for us to get to know 'Arry, and I do not think you will want to miss it."

The puzzled and nervous look on Harry's face made her smile. She had an idea of where her father was going with this, and she was certain that Harry would agree to it. And he was right: it would be an excellent way for them to get to know him better! Remembering her earlier idea, she held out her hand to him and smiled, hoping that he might take it.

He glanced warily at it – he was obviously still out of sorts – but then he gathered his courage and reached out. She smiled as she felt his hand slip into hers, and gave it a gentle squeeze. He smiled faintly back at her, but his fidgeting told her that he had no idea what to do with himself in a situation such as this.

That thought brought a faintly amused smirk to her lips, though she hid it quickly.

Without another word she led him out of the dining room and back down the hall. Like their family dining area, the living room was cozy, unlike much of the rest of the Chateau. The place was built to impress, and only in recent generations had it truly become a home.

A trio of squashy couches surrounded a low glass coffee table in this room, all riding above plush white carpet. Fleur led Harry to the couch to the right of the grate, where a low fire burned merrily away. He glanced bemusedly at her as they sat down, but she just smiled reassuringly and gave his hand another squeeze.

Puzzled by it, he studied her for a long moment, but to his credit, he did not snatch his hand away.

Soon everyone was seated, and while her mother called upon one of the elves to bring more refreshments, her father retrieved a large, ornate stone bowl from a nearby shelf and set it in the middle of the coffee table. "Alright, 'Arry," he smiled. "This is completely voluntary, but I think we will all enjoy it. 'ave you seen one of these before?"

Harry merely shook his head, intent on studying the bowl with his eyes.

"This is a Pensieve," explained her father. "It allows us to view the memories of others. What I propose is that you select several good memories that you would like to share with us, and we will watch them together. It is an excellent way of learning about each other."

Harry unconsciously tightened his grip on Fleur's hand out of nerves, and yet his eyes shone with childlike curiosity. His inner struggle was plain: he wanted to see this miracle, but he was uncertain what he could show them! After his reticence in their conversation by the lake, she was not entirely surprised.

That conversation had gone well, but it also made it eminently clear that Harry Potter did not trust easily. He held his cards close to his chest, to use the Muggle phrase, and she sincerely doubted that even his friends knew nearly everything about him. If what she now suspected about his home life was true, then this was not a terribly surprising outcome.

"Er, what do you want to see?" he asked tentatively.

"'ow about ze First Task?" suggested her mother. "We were unable to see it personally, and we 'ave only Fleur's memory of 'er own performance."

His grip loosened at the mention of a relatively safe subject. "Okay," he smiled. "How does this work?"

It only took a few minutes for her father to teach him how to extract the memory, and then they promptly dove in. Harry's look of amazement was priceless, and earned him another squeeze; she was pleased to see that he hadn't let go, even as they fell inside! And this time, he squeezed back and smiled shyly up at her. She was making progress!

And then the memory began to unfold, and Fleur forgot all about it.

To say that he was an impressive flier would be one of the biggest understatements she could imagine. The way he teased the dragon, ducking and dodging terrifying fountains of flame, was absolutely unreal! He really should have come in first, as this was very impressive for someone his age, and he was the least injured of the lot when it was over.

As they returned to their seats, she found him blushing in embarrassed pleasure at the amazed looks everyone was giving him, herself included. She had only seen his attempt from afar, and seeing it up close made her respect his abilities all the more. He really was going to be an amazing wizard some day!

"That was quite impressive, 'Arry," breathed Sebastian. "And Fleur was right, you should 'ave 'ad first place for that!"

Harry's blush deepened, and he gave a modest shrug at the compliment.

"You are a wonderful flier," agreed Fleur, smiling down at him. "Per'aps we could see one of your Quidditch matches?"

Harry smiled and nodded, and then his brow furrowed in thought as he figured out what to show them. She really did want to see him flying again: even facing a dragon, he had looked so peaceful in the air, that she wanted to see if it was a fluke. Fleur had always been partial to brooms herself – she was a creature of air, after all – and though she was nowhere near his level, she would not mind flying with him some time.

Finally he extracted another memory and placed it in the bowl. "This is a match from my second year," he explained quietly. "It's... interesting."

Moments later they fell into the Pensieve and watched as a smaller Harry rode out to the field on his broom – and the game that followed was truly impressive. The look on his face during the First Task was not just a fluke: Harry was a natural in the air, almost like it was simply where he belonged. Half the time he dodged Bludgers without even looking!

They watched for a few more minutes, before– "What is wrong wiz zat Bludger?" she asked curiously. "Zey are not supposed to do zat."

Harry snorted, and his eyes developed a slight twinkle. "Remember that House Elf I mentioned the other day?" he asked, his voice still quiet, but his good humor clearly audible. Fleur nodded, and he continued. "This is the year I met him," he explained. "He was trying to protect me from something, and figured if I got hurt in the game that I would leave the school."

Everyone turned to stare at him.

"So 'e enchanted a Bludger to hunt you?" asked Fleur incredulously. "And you call 'im your friend?"

"He meant well," he shrugged, his eyes still on the game going on around them. "Dobby is just a bit... overenthusiastic. I made him promise not to save my life anymore."

Fleur snorted in morbid amusement at the concept.

"What was 'e protecting you from?" asked her father curiously.

Harry's expression dimmed. "Lucius Malfoy gave someone an enchanted diary," he explained. "It possessed her, and made her let a basilisk out that was hidden in the school." Frowning deeply, he added, "A lot of students were petrified. We were lucky nobody died."

A shocked silence ensued, only interrupted by the various sounds of the game that continued unabated, as nobody thought to pause the memory.

"A basilisk?" echoed Fleur faintly.

"In a school?" breathed Caterine.

"What 'appened to it?" asked Arienne curiously.

To Fleur's utter shock, Harry turned crimson at the latter question, his grip on her hand tightening once more. "I, er, kinda killed it," he said sheepishly.

Another shocked silence, and then–

"Non," said Caterine firmly. "Zis I do not believe."

Harry took no notice of the slight against his honor, and instead just shrugged. "I can show you if you want," he suggested tentatively. "Er, if it's safe to do in here, anyway. They can kill by looking at you."

"Zere is no magic in ze memories," said Arienne faintly. "It would not be dangerous."

"I would like to see that," agreed Sebastian.

Fleur remained silent, stunned by the revelation. If there was one thing she had discovered about Harry by watching and listening to him over the past months, it was that he was anything but a liar! He had killed a basilisk, which very few wizards could say!

Another piece of the disturbing puzzle fell into place. Between that and the Tournament – and not counting the amusing anecdote he told about the troll in his first year – that made at least three life-and-death situations that she was aware of. Hogwarts was supposed to be a school! What what was going on there?

"Oh, here's the good part," he suddenly smiled.

Fleur looked up in time to see the enchanted Bludger smash into his elbow – clearly breaking it – but the Harry in the memory ignored the pain and dove after the snitch, which he caught before landing and passing out. It was a truly impressive catch, and to do it while handling that kind of pain? She was rapidly being forced to upward revise her already high opinion of her husband-to-be!

Finally they were once again in the real world, and the reactions this time were mixed, with everyones' mind on the basilisk rather than the game they just witnessed. Fleur decided that wasn't a good thing; he would show them in due time, but didn't need any more pressure than he had already endured this night. He was being remarkably patient with them, and there was no reason to push.

"Zat was very impressive," she smiled at him.

"Thanks," came his quiet reply, along with another modest shrug. "I have more if you want to see them. I've only ever lost one game, and that was only because Dementors invaded the pitch."

"Dementors?" breathed her father. "At the school?"

He winced. "Yes sir," he nodded. "They were looking for my–"

Harry broke off suddenly, and his gaze went distant, causing Fleur to frown; the tension in his grip increased dramatically, and it was... different, somehow. The look in his eyes was no longer the shy, gentle one that had been present for most of the night: now there was a startling intensity there. Then his gaze once again locked on her father, as though to weigh how much he could trust the man.

"'Arry?" prompted Sebastian cautiously after a moment.

Harry took a deep breath, never breaking his gaze. "Do you know about my godfather, sir?" he asked, his tone more serious than she had yet heard it.

Her father narrowed his eyes in thought. "Sirius Black, I believe," he slowly recollected. "Wanted for the betrayal of your parents, and the mass-murder of a number–."

"He's innocent," interrupted Harry. "He never had a trial, sir. Peter Pettigrew betrayed my parents and framed him. I've met them both, and Pettigrew admitted it, but Minister Fudge wouldn't believe us. I can show you."

He was almost pleading at the end, and desperation was suddenly leaking from him in waves. His grip on her hand was almost painfully tight, and she shook herself free of it, startling him into giving her an apologetic look. But drawn by what she was sensing from him, she reached out to him, gently placing her hand on the back of his neck to comfort him.

He blinked bemusedly at her for a moment before turning back to the conversation.

"I would very much like to see that memory," said Sebastian seriously.

Harry's only response was to draw his wand and extract it. It took but a moment for him to recall and draw it out, and then he placed it in the bowl with great caution. He closed his eyes for a long moment and took a deep breath, and then nodded. Not a word was spoken as they leaned in.

The memory began in a shabby building, and they watched silently as the scene unfolded. She was startled by the hatred in Harry's eyes as he initially attacked Black; it was an emotion she had not expected of him. It cleared quickly, though, and quite fortunately as it turned out. There were gasps as Pettigrew appeared, and a shocked silence as they listened to him confessing his crimes, even if it was under duress!

And then they watched as it all fell apart.

Fleur's head spun as she sat there on the couch digesting what she had just seen. His only family was on the run, having escaped illegal imprisonment, and was under threat of the Dementor's Kiss from the Ministry of Magic! It was appalling! And it was beyond clear that Harry cared deeply for the man.

Harry himself sat quietly next to her, waiting nervously for their reactions. She once again reached out to him and gently caressed the back of his neck, which made him turn toward her. The pain she saw hidden in his eyes was incredibly potent, but his nerves were at the forefront.

She smiled a gentle smile at him, trying to silently convey that she believed him.

"This changes things," mused her father after a while. "'Arry, may I 'ave that memory? I would like to show it to Madame Bones."

"I'll do anything to help Sirius, sir," he responded with quiet conviction.

"Do not despair," urged Sebastian. "Now that I am aware of this, I can take steps to correct the injustice. And in the mean time, it is very likely that France will offer 'im asylum if 'e is willing to answer the charges under Veritaserum, which I believe 'e most likely will."

"They would do that?" asked Harry hopefully.

"I believe so. I will look into it tomorrow and inform you when I 'ave an answer."

"Thank you," whispered Harry emotionally, clearly overwhelmed.

Her father leaned over and gently placed a hand on his knee. "This is what family is, 'Arry," he said seriously. "This is what family does. You are not alone anymore, and we will 'elp you 'owever we can, just as you would 'elp us."

Tears came to Harry's eyes, and he nodded slightly, a faint smile indicating his thanks, but he was too overwhelmed with emotion to do anything else. For all of his strength, he appeared so fragile at that moment that Fleur's heart broke for him. What had this young man been through? And had he truly had nobody to help him through it?

It was dangerous, but Fleur didn't care: she cautiously leaned in and wrapped her arms around him in a gentle hug, and – to her considerable surprise – she felt his arms come around her in return. Something intangible passed between them in that moment, and she knew then that her fears were unfounded. While he was hesitant about physical contact, it could definitely be overcome.

"I vote we move on if 'Arry is up to it," said Caterine softly into the silence. And with a wry smile she added, "I for one would very much like to see my newest grandson prove to me zat 'e slew a basilisk."

That teased laughter out of the group, all except for Harry – but he did grin at her, which Fleur was learning was almost as good coming from him. He was a very complex person, but she was finding that he was much simpler than he often appeared. She sensed that she was still missing important pieces of the puzzle, but very much hoped that she would soon have enough of a picture to understand him.