The Art of Healing Part 3
By phoenixgod2000
Christmas Eve
Molly Weasley let out a sigh and stared out from her kitchen window. The Burrow was quiet. Too quiet. Despite the relative chaos, she fondly recalled the days when she still had seven children pounding their way through her house. Back then, she still felt needed. Even during the war, when the Burrow stood empty, she was around Order members, caring for the Headquarters and mothering the members who needed it, and who allowed it.
But now, it seemed that nobody needed it. All of her children had left the nest, and as yet none of them had begun making grandchildren for her to spoil. The loss of one son and a granddaughter during the war had proven almost too much for Molly to bear. Percy may have died while still estranged from his family, but the infamous Weasley stubbornness had allowed him to die a hero, single-handedly saving a dozen of his fellow Ministry employees in a devastating daylight raid on the Ministry in the early days of second war. Fortunately, her remaining children were doing well in their post war lives; Ginny was a reserve chaser with the Holyhead Harpies with very good odds of moving up to first string next season. She was also spending a lot of time with Neville Longbottom, and Molly's instincts told her that she would be planning a wedding soon. Ron divided his time between South America and London in his job of Chief of Security for the South American ambassador to the Ministry. The twins were off on another whirlwind world tour, no doubt living a life of debauchery paid for with galleons from their joke company and the reputation they accrued during the war. She tried to summon disapproval, but couldn't. She was far too glad they had survived. Charlie was back in Romania, working with dragons and dating the Durmstrang Care of Magic Creatures instructor. Bill and Fleur were about to ship the very first bottles of wine from their small vineyard—Egyptian Spice promised to be big success. She was thankful that Fleur had finally convinced her eldest son to settle down, and the two of them lived a life of ease and plenty at her family's villa in the French wine country. They had struggled long and hard to recover from the scars of the war, and to repair their relationship after Bill's mutilation and Fleur's miscarriage. She felt a momentary stab of grief when she thought of the child they had lost years prior… yet another sin to lay at Voldemort's feet. Another victim of his reign of terror.
She searched her mind, trying to recall if there was something that needed to be cleaned or mended. Things would be different if her Arthur had survived, but he was another casualty of the war, along with Percy and so many others.
Garden Gnomes! Her garden needed to be de-gnomed before the party. Happy that she finally had something to do, Molly grabbed her wand and walked outside into the morning sun.
An hour later, Molly was finishing up with the last of the gnomes when the hairs on the back of her neck prickled. Something had tripped the outer wards. Frowning, Molly picked up her wand – which rested within easy reach at her feet – Molly straightened up. She carefully made her way around to the front of the house, a dozen spells on the tip of her lips.
War habits died hard.
Molly saw two figures near the inner perimeter of the property, approaching the Burrow at a leisurely stroll. She squinted, trying to identify them; her eyes were simply not what they used to be. The figures were still indistinct, but Molly could see that one of them was tall and female, and the other was only slightly taller. The feminine form moved with long smooth strides while the other person walked with shorter, more hesitant steps.
After the twosome moved a few more meters down the path, Molly was finally able to identify the woman as Gabrielle Delacour. Molly relaxed and smiled. She was such a good girl: Always the first to arrive for the party, always so considerate.
The man's form remained hidden. He wore muggle clothes and an open, hooded robe-coat. His hood was up and deep shadows hid his face.
"Gabrielle! It's so good to see you." Molly smiled and gave the girl a critical look. "You're still too skinny." she complained without malice before leaning forward and kissing the silver haired teen on the cheek. "Who's your friend, dear? Your current young beau?"
Gabrielle blushed and fidgeted. Molly smiled at the girl's nervousness.
"No, Mrs. Weasley. Just a stray you took in once."
The middle-aged redhead's heart skipped a beat. She recognized the voice instantly. A voice she hadn't heard in more than a year. She whispered only one word:
"Harry?"
Harry Potter pulled off the hood. Unshed tears welled at the corners of his emerald green eyes. He swallowed once, painfully.
"Hi, Mrs. Weasley," he choked out, his voice thick. "Is there room at your table for one more?"
Molly Weasley wrapped her surrogate son in a bone-crushing hug. "Always, Harry. Always."
She was still holding him when his chest began to shake with the force of his tears.
"Dinner went well, don't you think?"
Gabrielle and Molly stood in the Burrow's kitchen, cleaning the dishes while the rest of the house slept off the magnificent dinner Molly had fixed for them.
Molly nodded. "I was worried at first when Ron punched Harry," she smiled, "But when I saw his smile afterwards I knew they would be fine. I was worried for both of them after that terrible fight they had." She wiped a stray tear that trickled down her face. "Hermione would have straightened them out in no time…"
Gabrielle nodded and smiled, remembering the pushy brunette witch that had taken time from her extremely busy schedule to help her with her school work one horrible summer. In Hermione Granger's world, being a refugee after having your home destroyed by Death Eaters was no reason to fall behind in your studies. She stared out the window, watching the snow fall lightly to the ground. It was so peaceful here, she thought. She wouldn't mind a place like this someday. A quiet place, where she could raise a family and work on her art without constant interruption. Unlike her sister – who seemed to love the social circuit – Gabrielle preferred solitude, small gatherings of close friends rather than sterile society parties. To Gabrielle, a place like the Burrow was ideal.
"Gabrielle," said Molly, interrupting the young veela's thoughts, "There is something serious that I need to talk with you about. I've met your mother," she grimaced, "and I doubt she would ever have this conversation with you." The friction between the two very different mothers had provided a tremendous amount of amusement during Bill and Fleur's wedding.
"What about?" Gabrielle asked cautiously.
"Harry." The redhead answered bluntly. "I've seen the looks you're giving him. You have more than just friendly feelings for him, don't you?"
Gabrielle flushed crimson.
"I… we… he… I don't think he knows." She answered in a rush. "And I don't want him to. I want him to trust me. He needs to trust me, and he won't if he thinks I want something from him."
Molly patted her companionably on the shoulder. "I understand, dear. Albus was very dashing when I was at Hogwarts, and I nursed a crush on him for quite a number of years. Until I met Arthur, that is. You need to meet a young man your own age." Molly advised.
"It's not a crush." Gabrielle shot back.
"Of course it is, dear. Or did that one Christmas mean so much to you?" Molly asked in a slightly sarcastic tone.
Gabrielle snorted. "Is that all you think it is, Harry comforting me just that one time? It's not. It's more than that. He is more than that."
The silver haired teen was quiet for a few moments. Molly reached out and stroked her back while the girl gathered her thoughts and emotions.
"Do you remember when my sister was kidnapped?" Molly nodded. "I was there when they took her. I was in another room and it was only sloppiness that they didn't find me, too. My sister was seven months pregnant. She couldn't fight… not like normal. I could have… should have done something...anything. Saved her and my little niece somehow, but I didn't. I couldn't." Tears rolled down Gabrielle's face. "I froze up and did nothing while my sister screamed for help. I hid, shaking, praying they wouldn't find me, too. When the aurors came, I was in my room. I couldn't face any of them! I couldn't face you or Bill! I was a failure! I never wanted to show my face ever again. I stayed in my room and vowed to never leave again. Do you know who came and got me?"
"Gabrielle," Molly said in a soothing tone, "You couldn't have done anything. You were a child then."
"Harry did." Gabrielle continued, as though Molly hadn't even spoken. Her tone was flat and brittle. "He came up to my room and sat down with me. He didn't tell me it would be okay. He didn't tell me that I did all everything that I could or that I was too young to have done anything. He knew I wouldn't hear those things and that I wouldn't believe them if I heard them. He just sat with me and drew me close with one arm. I don't remember how long we stared at my bedroom wall without speaking, not looking at each other, not doing anything until… until I started crying." Gabrielle wiped at the crystalline droplets that trickled from the corners of her eyes. Clearly, the moment still had a tremendous power over her. "I wept and wailed; I beat his chest, and tore at my hair till my arms were burning and my scalp bled. I screamed into his shoulder until my throat was raw. When I was done, he looked at me with those eyes of his and I felt his hands close over mine. When I looked down, he had placed my hand around my wand. Holding my hands with his, he taught me to cast a stunner." Gabrielle smiled wistfully. "Not a stupefy, or one of the other lightweight stunning spells, but a real Auror-grade attack spell. He stayed with me until I could cast it perfectly. Afterwards, he told me it was because it everyone should be able to protect the ones they loved. "
She turned and faced Molly square in the eye. "I think, if it hadn't been for Harry, I would have died. I was destroyed by my sister's kidnapping; when I learned that she lost the baby after they tortured her, I would have killed myself. Harry did more than teach me a little about fighting. He made me believe that I could fight." The silver haired veela set her jaw and said the next words in a fierce whisper. "I love him. I want him, Molly, and I will fight you and every one of his demons to have him."
This time Molly was the silent one. She stared out the window and bit her lip pensively. Eventually she spoke. "If it were anyone other than Harry, I wouldn't approve. A student involved with a teacher is wrong. It's immoral, and a betrayal of the relationship."
Gabrielle began to protest but Molly cut her off.
"But it is Harry. And it's also you, and I know that no man – teacher or hero – could take advantage of you. You're too strong for that. I love Harry like a child of my own body, and I want to see him happy again, no matter what. But I also love you and Fleur like my own daughters, and I want to see you happy too." she cautioned. "You deserve to be seen for the beautiful and amazing person you are. You deserve better than to be second place in someone's heart. Not even Harry's."
Snow fell gently onto the ground, coating the earth and trees with a frosty blanket. The rise of the moon cast an eerie glow over the ground, transforming the Weasley property into a scene from the most magnificent of snow globes.
Ron Weasley sat on the long bench swing set out onto the porch of the Burrow. He sipped at a butterbeer and gently used his long legs to rock the swing back and forth. Harry sat next to him, drinking a cherry fizz. The two had come out to share a drink after dinner, but neither wanted to break the silence first.
"My Dad would have loved this Christmas." Ron's voice was low and sad and didn't disturb the people still sleeping off their Christmas meal. He looked out onto the snow covered night and continued. "Merlin, I wish he was here…"
"What do you miss the most?" Harry asked.
Ron smiled. "This. When my brothers graduated from Hogwarts, Dad would bring them out here, share a few drinks of fire whiskey and talk man-to-man with them. He brought all of them out here, even Fred and George when he saw that they weren't going to graduate. It was a rite of passage, you know, something that showed you that he thought you were a man now. I remember when Bill and Charlie came out here with my Dad; I thought it was the greatest thing ever. I couldn't wait for the day my father would call my name and bring me out here and we would talk. But it never happened…" Ron's voice trailed off. "Bill tried, took some time to take me out for a few firewiskeys and a talk, but it just wasn't the same. He wasn't Dad."
"I miss him too," Harry added softly. "He was always very kind to me. Especially after Sirius died." The Boy-Who-Killed-Voldemort smiled gently. "I remember never being more mortified in my life than in my sixth year he sat me down for the talk once he saw that Luna and I were serious."
"Yeah," Ron said ruefully, "he flubbed that one with me and Hermione too." Ron smiled at the memory. "Hermione wouldn't talk to me for a week afterwards."
"She was embarrassed?" Harry asked.
"No. She was mad at me because I made fun of her for taking notes while Dad was talking."
"You're kidding!"
"I wish. Had drawings too."
Harry laughed and Ron joined him. It began a chuckle, but soon devolved into a full-throated belly laugh that paralyzed the boys for several minutes. The laugh began to die down and Ron wiped at the tears that filled his eyes. "Oh, I needed that, mate." He said, a chuckle still filling his voice. The mirth left Ron's voice when a moment later he continued in a wistful tone. "I miss her so much sometimes."
"Do you still think about her?" Harry asked.
Ron snorted. "Do you still think about Luna?"
Harry quieted down. "Does it ever hurt less?"
Ron stared off into the distance, looking at something Harry could never see. "Yeah…" he said slowly, "You like to think it doesn't, like it'll hurt forever because that means you care, but it's not true. You get to a point where there days and then weeks where you don't think about them and when you do… it's kinda a dull ache, like a hole that never quite fills up." Ron looked over at Harry and the boy who lived saw hard-earned wisdom in his eyes. "It's good that it hurts less. Because if it didn't, we couldn't move on. And I think that's what they want for us most of all."
Harry grimaced. "Have you? Moved on?"
Ron smiled and all but the slightest hint of sadness left his voice. "Yeah. You'll meet her when she comes to meet Mum tomorrow. I think you'll like her, mate. A little wild but a good heart. Name's Itzel."
"That name sounds familiar," Harry mused.
"It should. Itzel is one of the biggest singers in both the muggle and magical worlds." Ron said proudly. "She's a Mayan Pureblood."
Harry snapped his fingers. "That's right! Isn't she like a metamorphmagus or something?"
Ron nodded. "Yeah, she uses it to not get recognized when she goes out in public." He grins, "Well, that and looking good in skimpy dresses. According to her it beats dieting."
Harry shook his head. "How did you ever manage that?"
Ron grinned. "After you left, everyone started focusing on me. Inviting me to parties, Ministry functions, things like that." He shook his head and grimaced. "I could only take so much. After Malfoy draped his arm around me at one party to get his face on the front page of the Prophet, I decided I needed a vacation. One as far away from Malfoy and the rest of his bloodsucking types as I could get. Rio seemed nice and it was a place 'Mione always said she wanted to go. So I kissed mum on the cheek one day and portkeyed there. No plan, no clothes, no nothing. I stayed on the beach and danced in the clubs and just… let myself go. I didn't even go into the Wizarding parts of Rio. I wanted some time and space for myself."
Harry grinned. "I can relate."
Ron returned the grin. "So one night I was walking down a street and I heard a scream. Those Gryffindor reflexes of mine kicked into high gear and I raced around the corner. This pretty muggle girl was being attacked by three guys with knives and guns."
Harry winced. "How long did they last against you?"
"'bout a minute or so. Next thing I knew I was buying her a drink and we were in my room. She saw the wand in my pants—other wand," he corrected grumpily when Harry snickered loudly, "and told me who she was." Ron smiled contentedly. "She hired me to be her bodyguard for her South American tour and I agreed. We've been together ever since."
"I'm happy for you, mate." Harry answered quietly.
Ron turned to face Harry and spoke in a quiet, serious tone. "When she gets here tomorrow, I'm going to ask her to marry me. I want you to be my best man."
Harry's chest tightened. This was more than he could have asked for. More than he deserved. His voice was hoarse and he blinked away tears as he spoke.
"It would be an honor to stand with you." Harry hesitated for a moment. "I'm sorry I haven't been here, Ron. For you. For Molly and everyone else. You deserved to have me here to help you with the rebuilding and I let you down."
Ron smiled. Tears shone in his eyes as well. "You don't have to apologize to me mate. I understand why you did it. Remember what I did to Snape after 'Mione died?"
"I remember."
It was impossible to forget. Ron did something that Harry himself had wanted to do for ages. After he and Harry returned to headquarters from their disastrous mission in France, Ron had torn through the house and pulled Snape out a meeting. Harry had never seen Ron angrier than at that moment. He hadn't even reached for his wand, preferring to fling the greasy potion master down the corridor and to beat him so soundly that he'd spent two weeks in the hospital wing of Hogwarts recovering. It had been Snape's intelligence that had sent them to Paris.
And Hermione to her death.
"It's funny." Ron said. "But I think Snape wanted me to beat him up. He never once went for his wand. Didn't try to apparate. He just… took it. I think that he needed to be hurt as much as I needed to hurt him."
"What's your point, Ron?" Harry asked wearily.
"We all deal with pain in our own way. And, yes, it hurt that you didn't think that you could rely on us, but you're back now and that's what's important. We need you, Harry." Ron answered back seriously. "Malfoy married Susan Bones and has been trading on his 'war reputation' to get on some important committees and the board of Governors for Hogwarts. Sue loves him, and can't see how badly he's using her. He hasn't done anything too bad yet, but once he does…"
Harry grimaced. Draco Malfoy had emerged a surprisingly effective soldier against Voldemort near the end of the war. Unfortunately, his turnabout hadn't been total. He was still the same arrogant pureblooded racist that he had always been; only having turned against his dark lord and father when Lucius had given Narcissa Malfoy over to Voldemort for a dark ritual to consume her soul and power. Draco – discovering something that turned even his stomach – joined the Aurors and led several daring raids against Death Eater locations. His good looks and compelling story allowed him to become something of a media darling, despite his rather late entry to the side of light. Basking in the limelight that Harry had always eschewed, Draco happily fulfilled the media's need for a handsome war hero. It didn't surprise Harry that Draco was trading on his reputation for political gain. And using Susan… it hurt Harry's heart to realize that one of his better friends from the Order and the DA was so blind to what Draco was. He vowed to talk to her as soon as he could.
He heard the door creak open behind him and he and Ron both turned slightly towards the sound. Gabrielle smiled slightly at both of them as she walked off the porch and disappeared into the wintry landscape.
"She loves you." Ron said as he trailed her form with her eyes. "She loves you and she is so scared to tell you that I don't know how she spends any time around you without cracking."
"How do you know that?"
Ron grinned. "Luna always said I had a touch of the sight and that I should trust my instincts. And right now they are all screaming that she wants you more than words can say."
"She's sixteen, Ron, and one of my students. What am I exactly supposed to do about her?" Harry asked in exasperation.
"Harry, you asked me earlier about moving on. It's not a sin to find love again. It's not a sin to want someone after Luna. She would be happy for you. Remember that Harry. When we find love again, the ones we miss are happy for us. That girl loves you. Not to mention that she's a stone fox." Ron grinned. "The question you need to ask yourself is whether you love her back."
Harry stared off into the wintry land and searched his soul for the answer. And when he really opened himself to his feelings, he wasn't surprised by what he found.
Gabrielle sat on the hard frozen stump that stood near the Weasley family pond. A thick layer of ice covered the water, and Gabby found herself envying its cold perfection. She wondered what it would be like to be like ice, to not having feelings, to not care what other people thought. She had put up a brave front for Molly, but she didn't really feel it. She knew that she could handle the baggage associated with being Harry Potter's lover at her young age: the looks, the envy, the stares and rumors. What she didn't think she could face was Harry himself. He was so vulnerable and still so chaotic, and he trusted her so much.
And he shouldn't.
She was keeping something from him. Something that she feared would break his heart. She had begged and pleaded for him to be honest with her, but she had not given him the same courtesy. She was hiding her terrible secret because she was afraid that he would never forgive her the knowledge she possessed.
She sat and contemplated the nature of ice until a wave of warmth washed over her, banishing the cold that had slowly seeped into her bones without her realizing it. "Hello Harry." She whispered softly without looking behind her.
The former Boy Who Lived sat down next to her after conjuring a stool with a casual wave of a tattooed arm. Gabrielle shook her head in amazement. He hadn't even bothered to draw his wand.
"How did you know it was me?" Harry asked softly as he looked out over the frozen pond.
Gabrielle glanced at him and flashed a quick smile. "No one makes me as warm as you do." She blushed when she realized how forward she sounded. "I mean… ahh… the warming charm seemed like yours." She finished lamely.
Harry smiled but didn't say anything.
"So… did you have a good talk with Ron?" the silver-haired teen asked.
"Why, did you think because he decked me the moment he saw me that we wouldn't be friends anymore?" Harry joked.
"The thought had crossed my mind. Though I should have realized that nobody could hit you without your leave." Gabrielle admitted.
"We both needed to clear the air, get past some old, bad words between us. Besides, I had it coming." Harry answered ruefully. "But to answer your question, yes, Ron and I are still best mates. He's even invited me to be his best man when he marries his girlfriend—if she accepts the proposal. Don't tell Molly," Harry warned when Gabrielle gave a girlish squeal at the mention of the word wedding, "Ron doesn't want her to find out yet." Gabrielle nodded quickly in agreement.
Harry shook his head. "They… Ron and Iztel… they give me hope." he said in amazement.
"What do you mean, hope?" Gabrielle asked.
Harry glanced quickly at Gabrielle before looking away. "That someday I could find love again, just like Ron has."
"Someday?"
Harry looked up at the stars and smiled. "Regardless of what the stories say about me, I am not the man of a thousand lovers. I've never been good with women. I dated Cho once and flubbed that up, had a crush on Tonks, I dated Ginny and Susan for about five minutes each before I realized that we were better friends than anything else. Then there was Luna."
"Do you ever think you could find the same thing again?"
"No." Harry answered quickly. "But something else… something just as good… I hope so." He glanced quickly at Gabrielle, the slightest hint of a blush on his cheeks.
Gabrielle drew in a deep breath took her chance, speaking from her heart. "Do you… could you ever find that with me?" she asked.
Harry looked down. "You're sixteen—
"I don't care. You're only twenty four, and that's not such a big difference considering how long we're both going to live." Gabrielle rushed out.
"Maybe, but you're also my student, and you're still underage…"
Harry's voice was quiet but Gabrielle clung to the note of uncertainty in his voice. "I'm won't be underage for much longer, and its not as though you've gone easy on me in class. How long did I have that stupid dwarven beard? It sounds like you're trying to convince yourself, instead of me."
Harry laughed and ran his hand down her cheek. "You only kept that beard because the oversized mustache kept getting in your mouth when you tried to cast the countercharm. Anyway, did you know how beautiful you looked – even with the beard? Do you know how beautiful and amazing you are?"
Gabrielle frowned and looked away. "Harry, I'm a quarter veela, people have been telling me that since before I could talk. I want to be more than just a pretty face to you. I hoped…"
"They don't mean it the way I do." Harry replied. "Other people… they think you are special because of how beautiful you are." He shook his head. "I see it the exact opposite. I think you are beautiful because of how special you are."
Gabrielle lost herself in the emerald depths of Harry's eyes as he continued to talk. She found herself listening more to the emotions behind his words than the words themselves. They carried her to a place of warmth and comfort that she had hardly allowed herself to imagine.
"Do you have any idea how rare you are Gabrielle?" Harry asked. "Do you realize how much more mature you are than other girls your age? How many people your age would have understood what was happening to me? How many girls would have had the patience to heal me like you have? You're part veela and one of the most stunningly beautiful women I have ever seen. You could take whatever you wanted from men and they would give it gladly. But instead you work so hard at being the best witch, the best artist, the best person that you can be." He shook his head. "And the way you dealt with me was… amazing. Who you are… you're a gift, Gabrielle. A gift to the world… a gift to me. One I don't think I deserve."
Gabrielle had long since closed her eyes. His warm hands trailed lines of fire on her face and his warm Harryish scent filled her sensitive nose. "What… what are you saying Harry?" she asked breathlessly.
"I think… you… and I, could..." Harry blushed for once.
Gabrielle opened her eyes and grinned playfully. "Wow, you really aren't good at this" she teased.
Harry leaned his head closer to his veela student. "No. But I am good at this." And he leaned in for a kiss.
Gabrielle realized what was about to happen, and pulled back.
"What?" Harry also pulled back, confused by the girls actions.
"I don't want to be a Band-Aid, Harry. I don't want to be how you forget Luna." She said seriously.
Harry nodded. He bent over and kissed her hand. "I swear to you, Gabrielle, right here and right now, you and I are alone. No ghosts."
Gabrielle nodded and their lips met in a gentle kiss beneath the falling snow.
A few days later
Beauxbatons Academy of Sorcery
The day dawned bright and beautiful. Tropical birds not native to France sang and skipped from tree to tree over the tree lined walkways of the academy. Harry stood on a small mound instructing a class outside on the proper role of Transfiguration in dueling. The scent of freshly cut grass filled the air, and for the first time in a very long time, Harry felt like he had finally stopped bleeding inside.
Oh, he still hurt. He still had scars from Luna and from the War, but he was finally healing. He smiled briefly at Gabrielle as he talked, and demonstrated a few motions with his wand. She sat in the grass in front of him, curled up around her scroll and quill and she returned his smile with a dazzling one of her own.
What had he ever done to deserve a second chance at love? What had he done to make this beautiful, amazing creature think he was worth her time? She could have had anybody; someone whole, someone unscarred, someone without the chains of a bloody past dragging behind him.
And yet she wanted him.
There were still problems between them. She was hiding something from him; something she thought would anger him. But for the life of Harry, he couldn't think of a single thing that that Gabrielle could tell him that would bother him as much as she seemed to think.
There was also the issue of their age difference, but that didn't bother Harry anymore. Gabrielle wouldn't be legal for a few more months, and Harry would need even longer than that before he got past the kissing and cuddling stage. Although Luna had died more than two years earlier, he had delayed his grieving because of the war and then because of his wandering. Only now was he really coming to terms with it. As for the eight year difference between the two of them—well, Harry knew that Veela lived a very long time as a result of their fairy blood and he, thanks to the fact he was a metamorphmagus and the rituals of transformation he had undergone, would live substantially longer than a normal wizard as well. In time, eight years would be a drop in the bucket between them.
As for the fact she was his student? It still bothered him, but he hadn't done anything too over the line and he wasn't altering her grades in any way. Gabrielle was a gifted a witch in her own right and she outpaced most of her classmates without any help from him.
Harry smiled again. The day could not be any more glorious.
Several weeks later
"You wanted to see me, Sofia?" Harry asked as he walked into the office of the Headmistress.
"Yes I did, Harry." The small statured half elven witch stood up and hugged Harry briefly. She sat down again and Harry joined her sitting on the other side of her desk.
She watched him carefully and spoke cautiously. "You have become a very different person since I hired you. You have the twinkle back, the children cannot stop saying enough good things about your class, and there is a bounce in your step I don't think I have ever seen."
Harry leaned back in his chair. "Things change. People heal."
Madame DuShae arched a single eyebrow. "Did a certain teenaged veela help with the healing?"
"You know that she did."
"What I know," She shot back reprovingly, "Is that you have been engaged in activities which go against everything you stand for as a teacher."
Harry stood up angrily. "Because I've stolen a few kisses with the only person who makes me happy?" Harry asked. "Do you think I'm changing her test scores? Do you really think so little of me?"
"No," she said in a quiet tone, "I think a great deal of you Harry, but do you realize the position you've put me in? I have an obligation to the parents of every student under my care and to the reputation of this institution…" steepling her fingers in front of her, she continued. "The magical world owes you a debt that we can never repay, and I consider you one of my dearest friends. But that does not change the fact that you are engaged in an emotional relationship with a student. I have to fire you."
As she spoke the words Harry sagged. He sat back down in his seat and smiled wanly at the sitting headmistress. "I know you do," was all he said. "Shall I have the house elves pack my room?"
"Because I trust you, and because you are the finest Defense instructor this school has ever seen, I will allow let you finish the school year, and I will not be pressing charges against you. But I am taking Gabrielle out of your class. I will finish her sixth year of Defense myself. However you chose to purse your relationship with Miss Delacour, you will do it on your own time and you will not go any farther than you already have. I am giving you a remarkable amount of faith, and I ask that you not let me down." She instructed sternly.
"That's very generous." Harry agreed "and probably more fair than I deserve."
"Yes, it is." Madame DuShae replied in a hard tone. Her eyes softened perceptibly when she said a moment later, "But that's me as your boss, Harry. As your friend, I am happy for you."
One month later
"You're going to love this." Harry assured Gabrielle.
"I'd better." She mock-threatened. "I feel ridiculous like this."
"We'll be able to spend the weekend here, away from prying eyes."
Gabrielle had a strip of peach silk wrapped around her eyes that prevented her from seeing what was going on. She had absolutely no idea where she was. The strip had been charmed to prevent her from slipping even the tiniest corner away from her eye.
She heard the creak of a door open and then the scent of… saltwater? Sand crunched beneath her feet as Harry took her hand and let her through the doorway. Soft music filled the air, exotic birds cawed their greeting, and the rays of a tropical sun warmed the exposed skin on her face. She reached upward and tugged at the knot that hid her eyes. When she saw where she was, she rubbed them again. She could scarcely believe it.
It was Harry's room… only not.
Through the power of his magic, Harry had transformed and expanded his room into a private beach. The room seemed four times larger than normal and had lost the walls which formerly subdivided it. The floor had been transformed into powdery white sand with a warm saltwater pool lapping at it's edges. Trees heavy with coconuts, papayas, and bananas formed a stand in the rear of the room. A crude hut stood directly in front.
"Harry, this… this is amazing." Gabrielle murmured.
It was more than amazing. A transfiguration on this level of any usable duration was unheard of. The dozen spells he must have used to alter this room should have left him lying in bed for a week. But there he was, as hale and hearty as ever, grinning childishly at Gabrielle.
And he had performed this miracle of transfiguration all for her.
"Do you like it?" He asked shyly. "I put it together the past few nights. The enchantment should last the whole weekend." He reached over and pulled her unresisting form towards him. "This means we get privacy this weekend."
"No more prying headmistresses?" Gabrielle laughed.
Gleefully she spun herself around on Harry's arm. He smoothly caught her and dipped. "She's just doing her job." He chided. "And she was right. What we are doing is inappropriate."
Gabrielle pulled away. Her eyes danced and she playfully slipped part of her robe over her flawless cream colored shoulder. She stepped away and with a tap of her wand transformed her light robes to a brief thong bikini designed to highlight the perfection of her body, as she sauntered towards the hut. Harry could only shake his head. Gabrielle might not want to be known as merely a pretty face, but neither was she oblivious of or unwilling to use her physical charms. She was, after all, a veela.
The young beauty paused and turned her head back towards Harry. Her face was alight with mischief and when she spoke her voice was husky with desire.
"I'm okay with inappropriate."
Harry decided he was, too.
Sometime the next day
Harry and Gabrielle lounged in a hammock that Gabrielle had conjured and tied between two trees. It was almost large enough for the two of them to fit together on it—as long as they didn't mind being practically on top of each other—which they didn't.
Gabrielle had one of her silken legs casually draped over Harry's body while the rest of her molded into his side. He idly played with a platinum strand of hair while the two lounged beneath the artificial sunlight.
"I haven't felt like this in a long time, Gabby. I wish… I wish I could express physically to you what I feel, but I can't. I'm not ready yet."
The beautiful young veela stretched languidly. She traced Harry's face with her gaze and brushed at a stray lock of hair, revealing his famous scar. "I'm not going anywhere." She whispered into his ear. "I can wait until you're ready."
"I don't deserve you." Harry stroked the side of her face with a finger and lightly placed a kiss at the nape of her neck. "There haven't been a lot of women I've trusted. Too many just want to say they gave a roll to someone famous, or they want to catch themselves pregnant to get at my money. But you… you I trust with my heart."
Gabrielle shifted, turning slightly away from Harry. He could feel her tense up. "What's wrong?" Harry asked. "Every time I tell you I trust you, you flinch a little. Why?"
Gabrielle rolled away from Harry and pushed herself into a sitting position. She summoned a thin robe and wrapped it around her body. "I've done something bad, Harry. Really bad."
Harry laughed from his position still on the hammock. "What could you have possibly done that was so terrible? You're perfect."
Gabrielle let out a mirthless laugh. It was dark and shaky, filled with barely restrained hysteria. "You don't know what I did. What I knew."
"You've listened to my problems for months Gabby, it's my turn now. Let me listen to yours." Harry said gently.
"Don't say I didn't warn you."
"You make a very nice rainbow, Gabrielle."
Luna's soft voice caused Gabrielle to whirl around in surprise. She had been so enraptured by the spell that she hadn't heard the young seer come up behind her. With a pang, she noticed Harry's face light up when he saw his girlfriend.
Luna Lovegood had what Gabrielle's mother would call the elements of beauty, but not the execution. Wide luminescent eyes, long limbs, and a slender body that would make her the envy of many models were all present, but to Gabrielle it appeared that Luna simply didn't care what she looked like. She hid her attractive features beneath the bizzarest clothes Gabrielle had ever seen, and her dirty blond hair was encased in a net of twinkling lights in traditional Christmas colors. A red cloak trimmed in white fur partially hid a dress that looked like it was made from evergreen leaves. Tiny ornaments hung from her dress, giving her the appearance of walking Christmas tree.
"Moonshine," Harry said excitedly, "I was just showing Gabby one of the more entertaining magics Dumbledore taught me."
He walked over to his girlfriend and kissed her on the cheek. She giggled slightly and pulled him closer for a second kiss. Gabrielle's heart sank as she saw the obvious love between the pair.
"Harry, honey, Ron and Bill want you to show them how to use the dartboard Arthur found." She smiled. "But be careful. I think they may have drunk too much Yule mead. Their aim seems to be off."
Harry nodded and grinned. "Alright." He turned and dropped next to Gabrielle. "Are you going to be okay?" he asked the silver-haired first year.
She nodded. "Thank you, Harry." She whispered in a tremulous voice.
He patted her lightly on the shoulder and took off back towards the burrow.
Leaving Luna alone with Gabrielle.
The part veela girl watched as the young seer spun around in the light snowfall and let out a small silver laugh.
"I love the snow," Luna gasped once she done with her slightly mad capering. "It's cold and frozen, and if you look very carefully you can see the white haired Snow Flurry while it eats wild mistletoe berries."
"I don't think I've ever heard of that creature." Gabrielle said hesitantly.
"No matter." Luna waved off. "It was just something that my mother told me once." Gathering her robes Luna sat down on nearby frozen stump. She stared off into the frost rimmed lake. "I've always liked it here." She murmured.
"Did you grow up near here?" Gabrielle asked.
"Down the way." Luna said. "I grew up friends with Ginny." She smiled. "I had a terrible crush on Ronald for the longest time." Luna glanced down at the small first year. "Much like your crush on Harry."
"I don't… I mean… I think." Gabrielle stuttered out. Her face flushed and she turned around to avoid looking at Luna in the eyes.
Luna gently turned the small girl around. "Do not worry," she crooned, "I'm not angry with you."
Gabrielle wrinkled her forehead. "Why not?"
Luna shrugged. "Harry is easy to love. Why should I be angry that you see it too?" She grinned at the young girl. "Besides, one day you'll get your chance."
Gabrielle opened her mouth to question but Luna pressed a finger to the young girl's lips. "Do you believe I am a seer?" She asked gently.
Gabrielle nodded. "Of course. Everyone knows about Luna Lovegood, the Order of the Phoenix seer. My sister says that you are one of the most powerful members of the Order, even though you're so young."
"Your sister is very kind." Luna answered back with a smile. "A seer doesn't make prophecies, they see possibilities. They see ways of moving, of working in the weaves of destiny. I was always a seer, but I never knew it until I saw the threads that would come together at the Siege of Hogwarts. I've seen many things: Terrible things, beautiful things, things of no consequence, things of beauty that become things of horror, and the opposite."
"Does… it ever make you sad?" Gabrielle asked.
The Ravenclaw brushed some strands out of Gabrielle's hair. "It used to." She admitted in a quiet tone. "But that was when I couldn't see far enough."
"Far enough?"
"Every terrible thing, all of them," Luna whispered, "has some good come from it. Sometimes that thing must come far into the future, but it always happens. Evil cannot win, because every dark thing has the seeds of the something good, something great, within it. I draw great comfort from that."
"I don't." Gabrielle shivered.
"You are still very young."
Gabrielle Delacour had nothing to say in reply other than a soft "What does this have to do with Harry?"
Luna drew her wand and a blanket of warmth descended on both of them. "I see something coming. Something that I will not survive—or at least I am not likely to survive." The young woman shed a tear. "It is going to pain Harry so terribly. I fear for his soul." Luna knelt down and looked the young veela in the eye. "Promise me Gabrielle. Promise me that if something should happen to me you will watch over Harry for me."
Gabrielle's eyes grew huge. "But I…"
"You love him, and it will take someone who loves him to save him from himself." Luna said insistently. "Please."
Gabrielle nodded silently. She wanted to speak, but there was nothing to say.
Harry's face was blank. Gabrielle rolled away from him and stood up. "I wanted to tell you." She begged. "I wanted to tell you so much but I…"
"You knew."
Harry's voice was the coldest she had ever heard it. It froze her blood and its very tone seemed to act like a dementor against her. Its timber seemed to suck out every bit of warmth in her body. Even with the false sun shining overhead goosebumps popped against her skin.
This was the face he showed to his enemies. This was the face of the Assassin of Gryffindor, a face she had heard about but had never seen.
Harry stood up, and without visible movement transfigured his trunks into jeans and a tee-shirt. "You knew that Luna was going to die and you didn't tell anyone! You didn't tell me?"
"I was eleven years old and overwhelmed, Harry! I didn't know how to deal with what she told me. What was I supposed to do?"
"Why didn't you tell me before now?" Harry said angrily. "Why didn't you tell me before I…"
"I… what, Harry?" Gabrielle demanded. "Before what?"
"Before I loved you." Harry finished quietly.
"I was ashamed." She said quietly. "How do you even start that conversation? Hi Harry, The love of your life told me that she was going to die and wanted me to look after you. Do you have a problem with that?"
"I could have saved her!" Harry shouted.
In the blink of an eye the world that Harry had transfigured shattered and then fused itself back together again to the way it normally appeared. He walked towards the door and it swung open without him touching it. He paused in the doorway and spoke without turning around.
"I'm going out. Don't be here when I get back." He said flatly.
A second later he was gone.
The Ministry of Magic
London
A scream split the air and a cinnamon-haired young woman snapped her neck up and clutched her wand reflexively. With all the grace of a beached whale, Susan Amelia Malfoy heaved herself to her feet and made for the door of her office.
It was times like these that Susan regretted getting pregnant. Her feet were swollen, her breasts hurt, and her back ached. She did not currently possess the svelte, athletic body that helped make her one of the more deadly aurors during the war with Voldemort. Due in less than two weeks, she was deskbound as an assistant for her aunt, the current Minister of Magic.
Still, there was nothing wrong with her magic and her instincts dictated that she confront whatever made the person in the office outside scream. She slid the door open and peeked around the corner.
The office was in an uproar.
Nobody was working: at least two people had dumped parchment and ink all over their desk and floor, and people were looking over each other's walled cubical and talking excitedly. The secretary at the front of the office was firing rapid questions at a green-eyed, messy-haired young man who struggled vainly to fit a word in edgewise.
"Harry!" Susan shouted.
The pregnant young woman flung her door the rest of the way open and carefully made her way down an aisle that had clearly not been designed with very pregnant woman in mind. She reddened slightly as every eye in the room turned towards her.
"Susan." Harry said in relief. "It's good to see you. You look beautiful." he finished, eyeing her protruding belly.
"I look fat," she answered back ruefully.
"Beautiful." Harry said again. Susan smiled. She could hear the sincerity in his voice, and it warmed her heart like nothing else—other than her husband. She peered deeply at Harry, not having seen him in almost two years. She could see the tightness around his mouth, and a blank look that she knew he wore only when hiding tremendous pain.
"Sue, you never said that you knew Harry Potter!" The young secretary, Samantha Rollins, breathed in an impressed tone. She was fresh from Hogwarts and had never known the legendary Boy Who Lived except as a remote figure from her first year. The idea that her boss knew the great hero clearly impressed her.
Harry glanced down at the secretary. "Susan is one of my best friends. She's saved me loads of times."
Susan laced her arm through Harry's. "I think you pulled my bacon out of the fire a few more times than the reverse, Harry." She frowned prettily. "What are you even doing here? Last the Ministry heard, you had disappeared in Africa looking for Lestrange—and that was eighteen months ago."
"I've been around." Harry said evasively. "That's why I came. I wanted to see you and catch up."
"And check to see how Draco is treating me." Susan said knowingly.
"Ron may have mentioned something about Draco." Harry said blandly, "But I'm here to see you, not him."
"Well, you can come with me to lunch, but I'm meeting Draco," Susan warned. "So you had better be on your best behavior" she scolded gently.
Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes ma'am. No transfiguring your boyfriend, got it."
Susan shook her head and started leading him out of the office when Samantha called back hesitantly.
"Mr. Potter… I… uhhh… .my sister is a big fan of yours. Could you possibly…" and she meekly held out a parchment.
Harry smiled pleasantly although Susan could tell that he was annoyed by the entreaty. "Sure. What's her name?"
"Rose."
He took the parchment and flattened it on the table. He tapped the paper sharply and silver ink bled from the parchment and began to run and twist. Susan watched in amazement as the silver ink took the shape of a stem and rosebud with the words "To Rose, my number one fan – believe and be brave. Sincerely Harry Potter" etched beneath drawing.
"That's beautiful. Thank you Mister Potter." Samantha whispered.
Susan stood on her toes and whispered into Harry's ear, "You'll never get rid of your fangirls if you keep pulling stunts like that."
The Fey Glen was reportedly the best Wizarding restaurant in all of Great Britain, and one of the finest in the western world. It was out in the open, located in a mystical glade shielded with a variety of wards and enchantments that draped it in perpetual twilight and gentle warmth, regardless of the time or temperature of the world outside. Glowing balls of fairy light danced and spun in the air, casting romantic light and shadows through every corner of open air restaurant. The food was amazingly light, airy confections of fruit and greens—imitation of the foods eaten in seelie courts of the fey—that was prepared by the finest chefs in the world. The waiters and waitresses were all of extraordinary beauty, and virtually all of them had some sort of nonhuman ancestry to them which lent to an exotic cast to their beauty. Susan and Draco Malfoy had a table for two, and normally the always-booked restaurant did not allow additions.
Harry Potter proved an exception to that rule as well.
He hadn't spent any time around Draco Malfoy in years, and he found himself eyeing his old school enemy looking for any evidence that he was mistreating his friend in any way.
Draco Malfoy looked more like his father than the last time Harry saw him. He wore his ash-blond hair long enough to hang past his collar. He was tall and lean, with broad shoulders and a trim waist—a physique he owed solely to genetics because Malfoys never stooped to anything as common as physical labor. His cold grey eyes only seemed warm when he was looking at Susan—he eyed Harry with the same wary air that he always had. He fed his young wife from his own plate, and Harry noticed how gentle and kind he was when he addressed her. Conversation at the table was polite, bland even, as Harry and Draco spoke hardly three words to each other.
Susan eventually pushed her seat away from the table, and the men rose from their seats. "I have to use the little girl's room, boys; the joys of pregnancy are calling," she added with a rueful grin. "Please try not to kill each other while I'm gone."
The two old enemies stared silently at the other, the gulf of their history and animosity stretching between them.
Draco broke the silence first. "I never got a chance to say that I was sorry to hear about Lovegood, Potter. She was from an old, pure family and the line didn't deserve to end with her the way it did." He said sincerely.
Harry leaned back. "That means almost nothing coming from a person with the mark you keep hidden on your arm." He retorted.
"I made a mistake." Draco said tightly. "I was sixteen and thought I knew all there was to know. I learned differently." His jaw throbbed with tightly repressed emotion when he spoke.
Harry leaned forward. "That's right." He said. "You learned that when your father murdered your mother."
"My mother wasn't murdered Potter." Draco replied tightly. "She was sacrificed so my father could absorb her magical core. Her essence… her soul… has been totally destroyed. There is nothing left of her except for me, and the child growing within my wife… and both are tainted by my father's essence." Draco snorted bitterly. "I forget Potter, are you going to get to see your family in the afterlife? Because if you can, you are a step above me."
"Don't expect me to feel sorry for you because of what your father did." Harry responded. A second later he frowned and let out a sigh. "Look, I didn't know your mother, but nobody deserves what happened to her. I'm sorry for your loss."
The blond wizard let out a sigh and waved off the apology. "I know what you think of me, and I can only guess what Weasley has said about me, but I swear to you Potter, my only priority in my life is my wife and child—everything I do, I do to make the world a better place for them."
"Ron has said one or two things about you—mostly about you getting on the Board of Governors for Hogwarts. He was… concerned." Harry answered truthfully. "And truth be told, so am I. I believe that you want the best for your family, but you and I have very different ideas on what that better world should be like."
Draco snorted. "That's why you're here, isn't it? You wanted to check up on me to make sure that I'm not doing anything to harm your precious school. To make sure that I'm not allowing anything naughty to happen to all the wide eyed baby muggleborns going there right now."
"That school was the only home I've ever known, and more than one of our classmates bled and died to keep it from Voldemort—Pureblood and muggleborn alike. But you're wrong, Malfoy. That's not why I'm here, though. I'm here because I needed to get away for the weekend, and I wanted to check on one of my dearest friends to make sure that the man she married—the man who was so very far beneath her—wasn't treating her shabbily." Harry said intensely, eyes flashing with barely suppressed anger.
"That, Potter, is one thing we can both agree on. Susan deserves better than me, and I will work until my dying day to be the man she sees in me—even when I don't see it myself."
Sometime later
An abandoned beach
Harry and Susan walked along the beach in silence. The sounds of water lapping at the edges of the island, sand crunching beneath their feet, and night birds singing all worked together to fill the silence with nature's choir. Despite the lateness of the evening, the air was warm, hot even. It was a beautiful, tropical night.
"Where are we, anyway?" Susan asked as she walked with Harry.
The other wizard shrugged. "Not really sure. I pictured a place I wanted to go to in my mind, and my magic just took us there. Probably somewhere on the other side of the world near the equator. I don't really know how it works."
Susan shook her head in amusement. "Only you, Harry, would take a thousand years of accepted understanding of Apparation and turn it on its head, not to mention doing it without knowing what the hell you're doing."
She looked out at the endless ocean and asked in a soft tone, "Why are you here, Harry. I haven't seen you in years and then all of a sudden you're back. No word on what you've been doing, except for a few vague hints about teaching and traveling."
Harry rubbed his face. "I needed to talk—with a woman, and Ginny is out of the question. Our breakup was just too awkward to ask her what I need to."
A smile flickered across her face. "And ours wasn't?"
"You know what I mean, Sue." Harry rebuked softly.
The blond girl nodded. "I do. Ask, Harry. Whatever you need."
So Harry talked.
He poured out his heart about Luna, Bellatrix, teaching at Beauxbatons, and Gabrielle. Especially Gabrielle. He spoke endlessly about her art, her talent with a wand, her beauty, her voice. Her patience with him, the way she dealt with him. His feeling of betrayal when she revealed that she knew about Luna's death.
When he was done, Susan was silent for a long time. They continued to walk down the beach wordlessly as one of his most valued friends absorbed everything. Harry looked at her and bit his lip. What was she waiting for? He needed her to speak—to say anything even, if it was to tell him that he was being a fool.
"Harry, whatever I tell you, you have to promise not to get mad at me." Susan said eventually in a gentle tone.
Harry grimaced. "Is my temper so bad that you have to worry about that?"
"How did you treat Gabby when you didn't hear something that you liked?" Susan pointed out. "Your temper is legendary, Harry. Against your enemies and your friends."
"Fine. I give you my word to not get angry with you." Harry answered in a huff—hurt that one of his friends could ever think so little of him.
Susan put a comforting hand on his arm. "Harry, let me ask you something. Deep in your heart of hearts, who are you really angry with?"
Harry was confused at the question. "I already told you. I'm angry at Gabrielle because she should have told me about Luna."
"No, you aren't." Susan disagreed. "You aren't angry at Gabrielle at all. You lashed out at that poor girl because she was convenient. Because she was there."
"Fine. Then who am I angry at?"
Susan frowned prettily. "I hate to say this Harry, but Luna. You are angry with Luna."
Harry blinked. Luna? But she was… Luna. He could never be angry with her. She had been his everything. They never fought, unlike the gladiatorial arena that had been the Ron/Hermione relationship.
"Harry… Luna wasn't perfect. I know you thought she was, and she was good for you. I saw it, Ginny saw it, everyone who knew the two of you saw it. But you have a tendency to see the people you love as perfect—all good, and people you hate as all bad. That is why you still don't trust Draco—don't think I don't know that you were checking up on me." She smiled. "It was sweet but unnecessary. I see my husband's strengths and I see his flaws. That was something that you never could do. You've always been so blinded by love that you can never see that flaws in the other person."
Harry backpedaled. "But Luna was brave, smart, beautiful, and wise." He protested.
"Yes, she was." Susan said in agreement. "But Luna was also given to believing stupidly impossible things. It was part of her charm, but it was also a flaw, Harry. She was odd, closed off to most people, and more importantly she was a fatalist. I think it was part of her talent. If she saw something was likely to happen she would almost never try and change it. She would just accept its inevitability. What she did to Gabrielle was wrong Harry. She put the onus of taking care of you on an eleven year old girl. That wasn't fair to her at all. She did that because a part of her couldn't see a way to surviving the war. She wasn't willing to fight. For herself or you. Not the way you were for her."
"No…" Harry tried to protest, but Susan gently cut him off.
"Harry, how do think that an 11 year-old girl was supposed to tell Harry Potter that his girlfriend was going to die in three years time? You were wonderful with Gabby, but what would you have done differently if she had told you? Would you have even taken her seriously? And do you really think that she should have told you in the first hours of you drying out from your firewhisky addiction? What would you have done?"
Crawled back into the bottle and never come out Harry realized belatedly. He felt like he had been punched in the stomach. Harry wanted to protest what Susan was saying but he couldn't. The words wouldn't come because he knew that she was right. About everything. She had Luna pegged. About both her good and bad qualities. She had him pegged as well. His temper, his blindness, they were all things he knew about himself that he tried to avoid thinking about. Suddenly he was struck with the sinking feeling that he had badly mistreated Gabrielle.
God! Would she ever take him back? Speak to him even?
"Apologize to her, Harry." Susan ordered kindly.
"Would that be enough?" Harry said bitterly. "You don't know the things I said to her."
"Do what every other man does, Harry. Apologize. Give flowers. Try to be a better man tomorrow."
Harry nodded but wondered if that would be enough. If anything he could do would be enough.
Beauxbatons School of Sorcery
Harry stood outside his door for at least ten minutes, a bouquet of roses clutched in his hands, before he decided to open it. He had just come from Gabrielle's dorm room, and her roommates had informed him that they hadn't seen her since the beginning of the weekend. He had decided to try his room next… maybe she would be there, waiting for him. Hopefully she wouldn't be so angry that he couldn't get her to listen to him, and beg for forgiveness. He took a deep breath, plastered a smile on his face and opened the door.
Straight into hell.
His room was a mess. The furniture was destroyed. Dishes were shattered. Paintings had been blasted into fragments. Harry's first thought was the Gabrielle had lost her temper with him and taken it out on his things. Something he deserved, he mused ruefully to himself. Still, old habits died hard and he shifted his flowers to his other hand and drew his wand. A powerful shield spell on his lips he made his way slowly through the remnants of his apartment.
His theory of a temperamental veela flew out the window when he walked into his bedroom.
The first thing he noticed was that it was untouched. Pristine even. Everything was exactly where it should be. Everything but the message carved into his vanity mirror.
I still haven't given up Harry. You will be mine. I say we settle things once and for all. Find me and we three can our little menage a trois. I promise not to hurt your little croissant until you get here, Harry. You have my witches Oath.
Your Bell
Harry's wand fell from nerveless fingers and clattered unnoticed to the floor. All he could hear were his own words echoing cruelly in his soul.
Don't be here when I get back
The next part of the story ends most of the mushiness and Harry goes into Action Jackson mode. I've talked up his legend throughout this fic. Now can I write action well enough to show just how justifiable that reputation is?
Stay tuned to this veela channel.