31 - Conversations

Fleur sat quietly at the dinner table at Chateau Dealcour eating with her family — or rather, trying to. In truth, she was too busy fretting over Harry's condition. Her stunner was a bit more powerful than she thought; he was still out, and the only place she wanted to be was by his side.

Upon reaching the suite, she had convinced Fawkes to take them home. The simple fact was that Hogwarts was an increasingly toxic environment for him, and she wanted him to wake up someplace much more welcoming. She was concerned that even the smallest mishap might cause him to finally break, and she wasn't willing to risk it.

And so she unilaterally decided that they would start their Easter vacation a bit early.

"Cheer up, darling," urged her mother, speaking in their native tongue since Harry wasn't in the room. "You did the right thing. He'll be fine."

Fleur sighed and closed her eyes. "I'm not so sure, Maman," she said quietly. "He's been through far too much in too short a time. I don't think he can take much more."

"Have faith, Fleur," suggested her father. "'Arry is strong. He'll get through it."

"What happened to 'Arry?" frowned her sister innocently.

"He had a problem with a friend, Garbrielle," she explained. "Don't ask him about it or it may hurt him."

The little girl narrowed her eyes at her from across the table. Her thoughts were written plainly on her face: she adored Harry, and she wanted him to be okay. Fleur suspected that he wouldn't be able to shake her all holiday – and somehow, she couldn't see it as a bad thing.

"I want to see him!" she declared.

"He's asleep," Fleur said with a shake of her head. "You can see him soon, but don't be surprised if he is not very friendly. It's not your fault, okay?"

A cute crinkle appeared in the little girl's forehead as she tried to make sense of it, and it made Fleur smile in spite of herself. Oh, to be so innocent again! She could barely remember what it was like before the allure kicked in and caused all sorts of problems for her. Before she was married... Before the world was after her husband, whom she loved very much...

Oh, had life gotten complicated!

Shaking herself out of her melancholy – even with all that, she wouldn't trade him for the world – she finally forced herself to eat. The memory of his condition when she found him in the suite was enough to tie her stomach in knots, and it made for a very small appetite, but she would need her strength. She had no idea what to expect when he woke, and it was only Fawkes' presence with him that allowed her to leave.

And then dinner was finally cleared away, and in the middle of dessert, she received a surprise when she sensed his presence in the doorway. She turned to see him standing there, blinking bemusedly, with Fawkes nestled up against the side of his head, which he didn't seem to notice. He looked like hell, the way his hair was mussed and his clothing wrinkled.

His gaze scanned the table, and even as Gabrielle was pushing out of her seat, finally landed on Fleur.

"Fleur?" he called in a soft, hoarse voice. "What happened?"

"'Arry!" gushed Gabrielle, and she flew at him. She barreled into him with significant force, catching him off guard, and he went over in a heap on the floor. The upset dislodged Fawkes, who squawked indignantly and flew to Fleur. Gabrielle started babbling away so rapidly in French that even her own family could not understand her.

"Gabrielle?" came Harry's muffled voice, silencing her tirade.

Startled, the little girl picked herself up and stared at him with an "are you stupid?" sort of expression. "Oui, 'Arry!" she said in obvious exasperation.

"Oh," said Harry blankly. And then his forehead scrunched up for a moment before, to everyone's shock– "Il est bon de vous voir, Gabrielle, mais j'ai besoin de me lever."

Everyone in the room froze in surprise, including Gabrielle. His French was by no means perfect or fluent, but it got the point across. Fleur sucked in a sharp breath when she realized that he had been studying her language behind her back. It ignited a warm glow within her that he would be so considerate, when none of this was his fault in the first place.

Though Gabrielle frowned at the lack of warmth from him, she understood his meaning and complied with his wishes, dutifully extracting herself. He carefully pushed himself back to his feet – whereupon Fawkes immediately returned to his shoulder – and placed a gentle hand on Gabrielle's head in muted apology. Then he wandered unsteadily into the room, his confused eyes taking in the scene.

"What happened, Fleur?" he asked, once more focusing in on her.

"Come sit down, chérie," she sighed in response. "Tell me what you remember, and I will fill in ze blanks."

She patted the seat next to her, and Harry stared at her for an interminable moment before finally nodding and joining her. It was easy to see that he was still in a daze, whether as a result of the panic attack or the stunner, she could not decide. He was running slow, though, and this was going to take some time.

"Not much," he frowned after a while. "I remember I was going to ask Ron to go shopping with me, and then–"

He broke off and suddenly lost what little color he'd regained, swaying slightly in his seat, and she knew he remembered everything, or at least what Ron had done. She put her hand on his shoulder to steady him, uncertain whether or not he could accept further comfort right now. It hadn't worked earlier.

Her parents remained silent, and even Gabrielle was watching worriedly, her young mind having finally puzzled out that he really wasn't well. They all gave him the time he needed to process, and then–

"Oh, Merlin," he breathed quietly, before turning a heartbroken look on her and whispering, "Please tell me I imagined it."

Fleur sighed sadly. "I wish zat I could, mon amour," she said softly. "You 'ad a panic attack after, and I found you in ze suite. You were... not well. I 'ad no choice but to stun you."

His brow furrowed at her admission. "You stunned me?" came his pained whisper.

Her heart clenching painfully, she reached up to cup his cheek, gently stroking it with her thumb. "You were not well, 'Arry," she whispered back. "I did not wish for you to 'urt yourself."

Harry swallowed and nodded almost imperceptibly. "How did I get here?" he asked.

"Fawkes brought us," she said, pausing to give a smile of thanks to the beautiful creature. "We will stay for ze 'olidays."

Harry slowly nodded his understanding, and then closed his eyes and put his head in his hands. She could feel the grief radiating from him, and finally drew him into a warm embrace, causing him to lose control of his emotions. He cried silently, even as Fawkes began a soft, soothing song to offer what comfort he could.

It was going to be a long night.

===[~]===

Two days later, Harry was feeling only marginally better. He had spoken to Fleur at great length of the incident, and of how he felt about it. Only problem was, he wasn't really sure how he did feel about it. She seemed to understand this, though, and continued to support him with everything she had.

They spent a lot of time alone in their room, and when they weren't there, Gabrielle stuck to him like glue. The discovery that he could speak a little French now delighted her, and she did her level best to enlighten him on the language. He, likewise, helped her with her English, which was growing more competent with each passing day. She was a quick learner.

But he still didn't know what to think.

While he and Ron had not been on the best of terms lately, the faint belief that Ron would always be there for him had persisted, and gave him strength without him even realizing it. With that gone, he wasn't sure where to pin his hopes. Fleur was an obvious candidate, but somehow, it was just different.

It didn't help that he was worried about leaving Hermione alone at Hogwarts, but eventually Fleur sent Fawkes off to her with a note, and he returned with one saying that she had gone home to her parents for the holidays. Harry was relieved; he was afraid that his former friend would attempt to get revenge somehow, and it disturbed him that he now thought it possible.

It wasn't until Easter day that he finally came to terms with his new situation. He was sitting outside on one of the decks that dotted the castle grounds, staring off into the distance, when he was approached by Arienne. Apart from that brief time in St. Mungo's, he hadn't had any real contact with his mother-in-law, and had no idea what to expect.

He initially shied away, unable to prevent his reaction to the unknown like he usually could, but she took it in stride and merely put an arm across his shoulders, dragging him close to her side. He could not help the way he stiffened at the contact; such things had rarely been good for him in the past. But as she sat there, saying nothing, merely offering him comfort, he did eventually relax.

"It is not ze end of ze world, 'Arry," she said out of nowhere.

Her voice was soft and gentle, almost like he had often imagined his own mother's to be, and a far cry from Molly Weasley's shrillness. Her words washed over him, and he thought to balk, but she continued before he had the chance.

"You 'ave ozzer friends, mon cher," she said softly, "and you 'ave a family now, and we love you very much. No matter zat cochon 'as turned on you, you will nevair be alone again. We will always be 'ere for you."

Though he remained silent, her words brought a warmth to his soul, and a tear to his eye. Arienne simply drew him closer, and she gave him something that he had never truly felt before: a mother's love. While she would never be able to replace his own mother, that she would try to fill that gaping hole in his life meant more to him than he could ever tell her in words alone.

===[~]===

As the days wore on, the entire family got into the act, doing their best to make Harry feel like he belonged, and to dull the deep hurt that Ron's betrayal had caused. Only Fleur knew the true extent of his pain: he had few friends, and that very first one had been truly precious to him, no matter how many problems they had had recently. Her words to that bastard rang true; Harry truly would have given him anything, had only he asked.

But now that was lost, and it left a terrible gash in Harry's soul. However, between Gabrielle's childish love and highly amusing language lessons, her mother's continuing loving support, her father's sage advice, and Fleur's own brand of love and understanding, he was finally starting to recover. And now he was outside, kicking a ball around with her little sister, finally able to lose himself in the game once more.

Fleur desperately wished that he need not return to that awful place. So many bad things had happened to him there that it was a virtual prison. He was confined, trapped with memories of his past, and that would likely never change. Though she was aware of his vague desire to honor his parents' memory by graduating Hogwarts, Fleur was already considering ways to convince him to transfer.

"How are you holding up?" asked her father, coming to join her at the window as she watched Harry play with Gabrielle.

"I am surviving, Papa," she said softly. "But I worry. How much more is he to endure?"

"He is strong, Fleur," he replied confidently. "We will all work to make his life better, you know that. But whatever he is destined to endure, he will survive it and always come back to you. You can see it in his eyes. You are his reason for living now."

Fleur blushed at his frankness. Harry was still cautious with his emotions, but had started telling her at least once each day that he loved her. He was nothing if not honest, and she therefore knew it to be true. She only wished that he had the time to explore those feelings, and to become comfortable enough that they did not frighten him.

"He's right, you know," came her mother's smiling voice as she stepped up on her other side and put her arm around her waist. "We could not have chosen better for you had we tried. He is the most honorable young man I have ever met, and he has such a gentle soul. He really does love you."

"I know," she whispered quietly. "I just don't understand why. He should hate me after all the difficulties this has caused him."

He father chuckled at her. "He does not place blame where it isn't due," he mused. "You were no more at fault than he was, and he realizes that. And he knows how much you do for him, Fleur."

"And it is a great deal more than you think," advised her mother.

Fleur shook her head, unwilling to believe their words, and yet, for some reason, she could not deny them.