Note from Allen Harding: I hate asking this, even though the story is fresh. But I do encourage reviewing, I'd like to know what to do more of or less of. It's my first time writing in the Harry Potter universe. I have never read the books but watched the movies almost religiously. I do try to make up for the books by doing extensive research to achieve thorough canonicity. Feel free to judge the direction and writing. I am practising my writing since I am trying to be an actual writer in the future.

Also, Fleur's accent is a stress to go through, making sure that it is exactly how Joanne writes it. Hence why I tried to lessen my load by limiting the accents to Fleur and her mother. I speak French, so I know how it sounds and sort of how it should look on paper. But JKRs accent's are so rarely revealed in her writing, so her rules on Hs are unclear. I'm writing it how I want and don't get mad if it is inconsistent because it is so stressful as is.

Let me clarify with the direction of the story. This is not what you guys call Powerful!Harry or whatever. I don't know how those work so I don't use them. Practically, what I'm trying to communicate, is that this story is not Harry against the world kind of story. He is not going to be a god-level Wizard that can destroy Death Eaters with the flick of a wand. He is above-average, but not superpowered.

A quote from a reviewer, AlsoKnownAsMatt: "One universal objection I have with many of the "I'll take care of things myself" stories which, sadly, are based in canon, is that anyone with even half a brain would recognize that one person can not take on a large and sophisticated organization of adult evil-doers alone."

I agree with this statement.

This chapter took a lot longer because of the heightened involvement of Fleur, and I wanted to make sure that the connection between Harry and Fleur was as good as it could be in its early stages. I may have rushed this chapter out because I've written it for a long time, if there is anyone that would like to suggest some specific edits, I'll react quickly.

3. Crossings

Getting to Surrey was relatively easy with the aid of Muggle maps. Apparition is troublesome when trying to apparate somewhere, you have never seen, heard, or been before. Visual or descriptive aids are the first steps to Apparition. A lack of such aids makes apparition dangerous, with more than just a risk of splinching.

She could have Apparated to Brighton from Paris, but its distance would have given her a good chance of splinching. Apparition hopping was invented long ago to solving such problems, but consistently Apparating long distances in a short amount of time would cause a significant magical surge that would trigger sensors in the Ministry. Attention from the Ministry of Magic in Britain was the one thing she was trying to avoid.

The magical world after the events that Gellert Grindelwald had put into motion had changed drastically, especially in the area of global security. There was a time where there was a decent degree of privacy and freedom to every man, woman, witch or wizard. Though perhaps it came a little later in regards to women.

The ministry only decided to monitor magical travel so rigorously during that time, and even more so when Grindelwald escaped captivity under the Magical Congress of the United States of America (MACUSA). The French and British Ministers of Magic established several treaties after the tragedy that took place in both Britain and France in the years following his escape, most of which was an increase of invasive wards upon their countries.

The decision was to take a portkey and travel to Portsmouth, and from there, find a way to get to the place Hermione called "Little Whinging" in Surrey. Fleur assumed Surrey was a county in England, similar to Normandy was to France. Which made it easier to narrow down where she was to go.

She arrived in Little Whinging, her sunglasses nearly falling off as she materialised with a silent crack. She'd been practising her apparition since the classes were introduced in Beauxbatons, but her ability to do so was not perfect. From there on, she had to find her own way to the street of Privet Drive.

Little Whinging was a town so the street itself would be difficult to find without help. She managed to find an older lady on the street, whom she learnt from to be named "Magnolia Road". When she asked her where Privet Drive was, she answered, after giving a gentle compliment to her looks.

It didn't take long, from the older woman's somewhat precise directions, to find Privet Drive. She discovered most of the houses on this road similar in design. She groaned as she had to count left and right, house to house, to find number four, the house the man she'd come so far to help resided.

Eventually, she found the house with a muggle transport in its driveway. She walked up to the door and knocked. She waited a few seconds before knocking once again. The booming from within the house startled her, it followed a pattern that resembled footsteps. Fleur took a few steps back from the door. If she wasn't mistaken, she heard a male voice that wasn't anything similar to Harry's saying 'Who could be knocking at this hour?'

The door swung upon, and as her eyes fell upon the male before her, she did her best to suppress the urge to display an expression of disgust.

'Who the bloody hell are you to be knockin' at this ungodly hour, young lady?' The large man asked furiously.

Despite his rudeness, Fleur felt a significant amount of relief. A muggle who did not treat her like eye candy and excessively stare at her. The alternative was a nice change she finalised.

'My name is Fleur, I am 'ere to talk to 'Arry.'

'The boy is out, and I am not taking any messages from anyone, even a Frenchy like yourself,' he ended, motioning to close the door. Fleur stopped him by placing her hand flat on the door. She somewhat felt bad for having said the next few words

'If it means anyzing, I 'ave ze intention of relieving you of 'im,'

The man's eyebrow raised, intrigued by her words.

'The old man said I was to keep him here.'

'Wat ze old man does not know can not 'urt 'im. It will only be for a month I hope, per'aps longer.' She knew it was a stretch for such a prolonged event to take place, but the man before her, who Fleur understood to be the uncle who hated Harry's existence, wanted him out of the house more than he wanted to satisfy Albus Dumbledore.

A smile graced the man's face and stepped out of her way, allowing her in the house.

'He is not home, but you can go pack his stuff so you can leave as soon as possible with him when he gets back,' he said happily, gesturing to the cupboard under the stairs 'His trunk is in there, my wife will provide you with some refreshments.'

'Merci,' she thanked, stepping inside.

That's how the evening went for Fleur in Surrey. She remained in the household, grabbing the trunk from under the stairs and heading upstairs with the help of his uncle to carry it up. She went through the wardrobe and desks to grab what Harry would deem important and placed them neatly in his trunk. Fleur couldn't help but giggle as she packed the boxers and briefs into the trunk. She'd never had thought she would be doing this for summer, packing another boy's underwear into their trunk before they had a chance to protest.

Her packing was halted when she heard the hoot from the cage on the desk, where a snowy white owl surprisingly similar to her family's owl, Kryos.

''ello zere monsieur,' she said, poking her finger through the cage, only to get it nipped and the owl's beak shucking at her. If that could be described as shucking for an owl.

'Girl?' she received a hoot in response. Fleur was too used to calling her owl as a male, a mistake for her this time.

'Hello Miss,' came a woman's voice from behind her. Fleur straightened her back and turned around to find who she assumed was the wife of the man she'd met earlier. She was a near opposite of the man, in every sense of the word. She was as thin as a twig and bewilderingly pale. In the palm of her hands was a tray with tall glasses filled iced water.

'You are 'Arry's Aunt, yes?'

'Yes I am,' the woman said, nodding. Fleur was passive up until this point…

'Let me say I am deesappointed in your parenting of your dead sister's son.' Fleur hadn't intended to sound so vile and angry as it left her lips. The woman wanted to reply or retort, but she paled further than she already was, and carried the tray back downstairs. The rest of Fleur's time was spent in Harry's room packing.

She felt bad for rummaging through his belongings, especially so when she picked up the animated, black and white photograph at his bedside. In the photo frame was a beautiful woman, dancing with a man she could only describe as an older version of her own Harry Potter, down to the glasses. The two twirled under falling leaves in their winter wear, blissful and happy with one another's presence.

The happiness in the photograph was pure, a happiness so scarce in the world today.

Harry's uncle was happy to help her carry the trunk back downstairs, where she was given a choice to wait in the lounge for Harry for the rest of the evening.

So here she stood, in the foyer of Number Four on Privet Drive, holding the front door open for the one man she's been waiting for. She was shocked to say in the least when the door opened and her eyes met his eyes at a surprisingly higher height than she could remember from a month ago. His build was had her blinking, as if her eyes began to deceive her. He lacked the generic physical qualities that she could recall him having no less than a month ago when she bid him goodbye at the steps of her carriage.

There was no denying that this was the same man, for he had the same circular glasses, same ridiculously untamed and overgrown hair, same lightning bolt scar above his right eyebrow, and the same astonishingly beautiful emerald green eyes.

When her name left his lips, his voice appeared to have grown as well, slightly deeper with a familiar tone of unsureness. This was him, and there was no denying it.

'I've been waiting, Meester Potter.'

'Wh-what?' he stuttered as her voice was unmistakably the French Veela he'd befriended last year 'Fleur?'

Her eyebrows furrowed, displaying her annoyance.

'Wait. What? What are you doing here? At my home.' Dudley chose this moment to talk

'Hello, I'm Dudley, I'm also gonna die if I don't find a bed,' the words hadn't left as clearly as the boy assumed they would, but the message had been communicated clearly enough for Fleur to step out of the way and let Harry's cousin stumble past her.

The two watched him as he made his way up the stairs slowly, worried he might fall down or over. Dudley eventually made it to the first floor, and after they heard a door close, they turned to one another.

'What are you doing here?' Harry asked, a lot more serious that he'd been before. He felt both confused and worried. So many questions running through his head as he tried to understand why the most beautiful girl he'd known last year was, not even on his doorstep, but holding the door open for him from within his home.

Fleur didn't take his words lightly, or at least the way he said them. Harry quickly tried to fix the situation

'I'm sorry, I-' he was interrupted as Fleur leaned forward and sniffed him. Her reaction was awe and disappointment.

'Were you out drinking?' she asked as calmly as she could.

Harry flushed. He'd never been in such a position before, he hadn't known how to act or react. He assumed he'd be facing an angry Dursley parent, not a woman he knew personally. The way she glared at him made him redden with embarrassment like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. She knew, and he knew she knew.

Harry fell silent.

'Get eenside,' she demanded, pointing at the floor of the foyer. Harry nearly mouthed his protest, but obeyed and took a few steps inside the house, Fleur shutting the door behind him. When Harry stepped in, revealing his features to Fleur, she shook, taking in how much he differed from his look barely a month ago.

'Care to explain yourself?' She asked, putting her hands on her hips. Her anger mixed with an ever-thickening French accent making him shiver.

'I-' he tried to begin.

'Forget it, I do not want to 'ear it,' she huffed, crossing her arms and turned to face the wall. Her displeasure towards him very apparent to all who viewed her, which included Petunia Dursley from the kitchen door. She was shocked at how Fleur was treating Harry.

Fleur too was shocked: this had not been what she expected to be doing when Harry arrived.

Even though Fleur said she didn't want to hear it, Harry felt an obligation to give her an explanation.

'I was out with Dudley. It is his birthday, and a friend planned to celebrate it in a pub. I swear I only had a few drinks to fit in with the crowd,' he explained, desperate to be forgiven. He felt as if he let her down for some reason. Within, he was wondering why he felt as such. The disappointment she expressed made Harry feel horrible for reasons he could barely understand.

The pressing topic was her being in Number Four, not his whereabouts and actions in the night with Dudley, but somehow she managed to change the priorities with her words.

'You better not do zis again.'

Again? When and why would there be another time she would catch me drinking in the night…Harry thought.

He suddenly realised this was her taking matters into her own hands as she said in her letter. He didn't get a reply back from her, so this was probably what she had in mind, Harry deduced.

'What are you doing here, Fleur?' Harry finally asked, pushing away the topic of his drinking. Fleur wasn't satisfied with the change but nonetheless decided the time for explanations would come sooner or later.

'I am 'ere to take you out.'

Harry expressed his confusion in a tilt of his head and the squinting of his eyes.

'Excuse me?'

Her choice of words may have played a role in his confusion, so she reworded it

'You are coming with me. I am 'ere to help you, like I said,' Fleur said sternly.

'What? No. Fleur. I said-' he tried to object.

'I know you said you didn't want my 'elp, but you are getting it whezzer you like it or not.'

'Fleur…' he groaned.

'Do not Fleur me. You are coming wiz me,' she pestered, aggressively pointing at him. She was angry and committed, a combination that Harry had only ever seen in his best friend, Hermione.

'Look I don't-'

She cut him off once more.

'I am not leaving unless you leave with me,' she finalised, taking a seat on the staircase. Harry's eyes widened, his thoughts racing to what the Dursley's would say, or do. He feared that Vernon would attack her, or belittle her, or insult her for her mere existence in Harry's life. Vernon's treatment towards anything magical was consistently negative, and if ever he learnt that she was a witch and a magical creature…

Harry was backed into a wall, and he hated it. Fleur had good intentions, he understood that, but he didn't think she knew the degree of danger she would be putting herself in by doing this.

'It's too dangerous Fleur…please…for your own sake,' he warned.

Fleur responded by leaning back on the staircase, placing her elbows on the higher steps, as if getting comfortable.

Harry sighed, his eyes flying to the ceiling as he brought a hand up to push up his glasses and pinch the bridge of his nose.

'How long?' he asked.

'One monz.'

He removed his hand and groaned once more before conforming

'Fine. Alright,' he surrendered, his hands flying into the gesture of the same word 'I'll come with you.'

'Great!' her attitude shifting into glee as she stood up and rushed into the lounge. She returned dragging his trunk through the door, and Vernon Dursley right behind her.

'Try not to come back too soon, boy.'

Fleur shivered in anger but held it back, and instead gave him a smile and a thanks before turning back to Harry.

'All packed,' she said, patting the top of the trunk. Harry raised an eyebrow at her, he could only recall that he some books and school robes in there.

'I packed your clozes already. Alzough, I zink you might need a new wardrobe,' she recommended, pointing at his body 'You are beeger, not as leetle as I remember.'

Harry could only blush, harder and harder as her words grew progressively more embarrassing for him.

'We can leave now,' Harry tried.

'No, not yet.'

Harry groaned.

'What else-'

'Oi, be'ave,' she berated his attitude. Fleur reached into her purse and grabbed small pouch.

'What's that?'

'Birzday geeft for your cousin,' she explained, emptying the pouch into her hand. Two coins fell from it, each with a string looped through them.

'Coin necklaces? How thoughtful…?'

'Shut,' Fleur scolded. Harry didn't like that Fleur was making a habit of scolding him.

'Zese are charmed coins,' she began as she lifted the top coin by the string 'If ze wearer squeezes it, the other coin will 'eat up. Like a danger seegnal.'

Harry attitude towards it changed. His thoughts towards leaving Dudley here unprotected had finally arrived at the forefront of his mind. Now that his cousin began to matter to him, he worried about him being a part of his dangerous existence. With the coins Fleur had described, Harry would know when he would be in danger and be able to help him. It brought a special kind of ease to his mind and thanked Fleur

'Thank you Fleur, this is amazing.'

''Ermione told me 'ow much your friends matter to you. So I zought-'

'You don't have to explain. Thank you.'

Fleur handed him the coins

'It is one way. Give 'im ze coin wiz ze…' Fleur left hanging. She hadn't known how to tell the two apart she now realised.

Harry caught this and decided to squeeze both coins in his hand. Eventually, one of the coins began to heat up in his hand. He was surprised how much heat it actually let off. Picking the heated coin from the stack, he shoved it in his pocket and held the other at Fleur.

'Yes, zat one.' Harry rolled his eyes and made his way upstairs. He entered his room, where there was still spare parchment on the table from the last time he'd drafted a letter for Fleur. With the intention of writing up an explanation on how the coin works and a happy birthday, he began writing.

Happy Birthday Duddikins

Fleur got this present for you. It's magical, but don't be afraid. It's like a danger button. If you squeeze it, it will tell me that you're in danger. So if anyone attacks you or is out to get you, be it magical or not, I will be there. I'm going to be gone for a month, but know that I'll have your back when you need me mate.

Harry

He wasn't exactly satisfied to the fullest with the letter. There was so much more he wished he could explain, he folded it up and left for Dudley's room. When he opened the door slightly, he found his cousin completely out of it on the bed. Face buried in a pillow and his arm hanging off the bedside.

He made sure his steps were quiet as he approached his bedside table.

'We're waiting, boy!' Vernon shouted from downstairs. The noise had Dudley stirring in his sleep, but he didn't wake. Harry placed the letter on the table and the coin atop it.

He made his way out of Dudley's room, shutting the door behind and peeked once more into his own room, wondering where Hedwig was since her cage was empty.

Returning to the foyer, he asked

'Where's Hedwig?'

''Oo?' the lack of consonants had Harry thinking for a split second.

'My owl,' he answered.

'O, ze is out. I told 'er to follow us when we leave.'

He looked questioningly at her

'Where exactly are we going?'

Fleur took a quick glance at the Dursley's behind her and bounced the question

'I'll show you, now come on,' she went to pull on the trunk, but the weight had her struggling for a moment. Frustrated, she drew her wand with the intention of pointing it at the trunk. Before she could utter a spell, Harry lunged and drew back her arm.

'Oi, wat are you doing? I am going to s'rink it.'

'No magic. Not here,' he explained 'The Ministry has this place warded. Last time a house elf was here, it did not bode well for me.'

'And no magic in my house! Now out! Out!' Vernon hushed, pushing Fleur with the trunk out the front door.

As the two ended up in the front yard of Number Four, Harry drew up a solution.

'Let's go up the street. We'll eventually find a secluded place for that.' Fleur nodded and let Harry drag the heavy trunk up the road. Harry's nobility was something not fun to fight against unless you are a strong-willed bookworm. They walked a couple of blocks until they found a suitable area with no houses or windows facing them. It would have been much easier to cast a notice-me-not charm amongst them, but Fleur didn't know the length of the so-called wards. Unbeknownst to her, nor did Harry, hence why he walked the distance to assure it was safe.

When Harry finally stopped, she raised her wand and pointed it once more at the trunk.

'Reducio,' she whispered. The trunk shrunk to the size of her palm. He bent down and picked it up, looking at it impressively before pocketing it. Magic was a beautiful thing.

Fleur then holstered her wand and held her hand out.

Harry was confused.

'Um…?'

'We are going to apparate, 'Arry.'

'Uh…' Harry hadn't learnt about apparition yet.

Fleur groaned and tried to explain

'Apparating is like travelling by portkey. Vanishing and appearing somewhere else.'

Harry could easily recall his last experience with a portkey. He remembered it vividly every night in his dreams…

'I don't know about this Fleur…' he said, his head falling.

Fleur didn't understand his reluctance to apparate. He needed to in order to get where she needed them to go. The silence hung between them for a while until she remembered the end of the third task.

When the maze began to deteriorate from the centre, signalling the end of the tournament, everyone was waiting for the champions to emerge before them. It was explained that the cup was a portkey and the winner would appear at the entrance. Nobody had expected that after an intensely long fifteen minutes, Harry would appear before them, a cup in one hand, and another hand with his wand pressed against the yellow fabric of the recently deceased Hufflepuff Champion.

She was the first to audibly react to the sight before her amongst the cheering crowd. The pale state of the man lying on the floor while the Gryffindor wept on his chest was enough to tell her exactly what had happened. Her mind had already expected the worst, but this was far beyond anything she'd anticipated.

'I'm sorry 'Arry,' she apologised as she brought her fingers under his chin, raising his head so that their eyes met. Fleur admitted to herself that she felt somewhat horrible for using her Veela allure to bring Harry out of his blue subconsciously, 'Zis is for you 'Arry. I want to avenge Cedreec as well, and we can. Only if you let me 'elp you.'

It didn't take long for Harry to remember what he was standing for now. It all came rushing back to him and past his sorrowful emotions. He wanted to fight so that no one else would end up like Cedric. He realised that if Fleur could be the one to help him do that, there's no way he was turning that opportunity down.

He raised his hand and grabbed the hand under his chin, their fingers interlocking smoothly, and nodded towards her.

'I'm ready.'

The sensation was uncomfortable for Fleur, but the same couldn't be said for Harry as he stumbled onto his hands and knees.

'What the bloody hell was that?!' Harry exclaimed as he tried his best to bite back the urge to vomit.

It was the first time he'd ever side-along apparated. There was a distinct difference between apparition and portkey travel, a difference Fleur failed to point out before departure.

'That's nothing like apparition Fleur!' he barked, getting off his hands and knees.

Fleur didn't take offence at his tone. Instead, she giggled, which only added fuel the fire.

'Why are you laughing?'

'You still whine like a leetle boy, mm?' she teased.

Harry attempted to sputter a retort but ended up with nothing and a blush.

'Enough wiz zis whining. We 'ave a ferry to catch,' she said as she turned and walked towards the lone ferry with the loading doors lowered to ground level.

Harry caught up with her and asked

'Why are we taking a ferry? Where are we going?'

'France.'

The simple answer forced Harry to ask more questions.

'Why France?'

'Seemply put 'Arry, if you want to do magic wizout your ministry knowing, I 'ave a 'ome in France to do zat, now 'ush,' she answered as she reached into her handbag, pulling out sunglasses. Harry was confused at why she was wearing sunglasses at near midnight, but he felt that if he so much had asked, he would get scolded again. Barely thirty minutes with her and he'd never felt so emasculated in his entire life.

'But why a ferry?'

'You still 'ave ze trace. If you leave ze country by magic, ze ministry will know. Yours and mine.'

Harry mouthed an "ah" and nodded.

'You've thought this through and through, have you?'

'Oui,' she answered smiling before grabbing his hand, pulling him with her.

A muggle vehicle was driving aboard the ferry when the two walked up to a dark-skinned security official standing on the platform.

''Ello Meester,' she drew her tickets from the bag as well and presented them to the man.

He accepted the tickets and looked at the two before inspecting the tickets

'Ah, I heard of a last minute booking. You're the French girl with the boyfriend, eh?' he asked.

Harry's panicked eyes shot to Fleur

'Oui,' she claimed as she let her arms cling to Harry's bicep and tilted her head to rest on his shoulder. He stared down at her slender arms as they wrapped around his own arm, with her silvery-blonde hair tickling the crook of his neck. He began blushing furiously, soon choosing to look off into the distance to hide it.

The guard smiled and handed Fleur back the tickets and gestured towards the boat as he said

'Go on you two, ferry leaves in a few minutes.'

She smiled back and tugged on Harry. Before they walked by the man, he stopped Harry by the shoulder and leaned towards his ear

'Good catch lad,' Fleur heard the man whisper, giving Harry a pat on the back, letting the two walk.

Fleur couldn't tell if his face was burning bright like a lumos spell in the darkness of the night, but she was willing to bet that he sure felt that way.

For the first thirty minutes of the ride, Harry and Fleur had been on the bow, watching the ferry cut through the waves below, listening to the calm crashes of the sea and inhaling the refreshing smell of the open sea. Most magical folks don't take too kindly towards the use of Muggle transportation (unless you are Arthur Weasley). After all, apparition, floo, and portkeys were much more efficient. Trading a momentary discomfort for an ability to teleport from one place to another was the kicker.

Though they do miss out on the better parts of Muggle transportation, which was the experience. Going from A to B is the mission, but what happens in between is a worthwhile experience. Harry had lost count of all the enjoyable times he'd had on the Hogwarts express to and from Kings Cross. He'd met his best friends on board that old steam train. Speaking of which…

'So you've talked to Hermione a lot have you?' Harry asked, turning to face her.

'Oui. We talked about this. She approves,' she answered, her eyes ever resting in the distance, the moonlight doing much to illuminate her sapphire blue eyes. She basked in the feeling of the nights cool breeze caressing her hair and over her ears. To Harry, it was like watching one of those slow-motioned advertisements for perfume he'd seen on the telly.

She's a Veela, you can't help yourself…Harry reasoned within.

'What did she tell you?' asked Harry, finally.

'Enough to convince me zat you need all ze help you can get.'

'She also told me zat you wouldn't want my help and zat I would need to drag you wiz me,' she added with a grin.

That sounded like something Hermione would do according to Harry. The pair fell silent once again as they reverted their focus back to the open waters ahead of them.

The ferry ride was said to be a few hours. Harry hadn't known that by a "few hours", they meant at least eight hours. He expressed his lack of enthusiasm to be on a ferry ride for such an extended amount of time, only because he hadn't slept and he's exhausted.

'I zink you can sleep in ze lounge area,' Fleur said as the pair walked up and down the ferry, searching for the room. The French witch had yet to detach herself from the young hero, continuing to pull him along. Harry hadn't felt as embarrassed as he was when he first stepped on the ferry, mostly due to the fact he was too tired to care what others thought. Maybe it was the alcohol and apparating that had him so under the weather.

'Ah!' They had found the large room, perhaps the size of two classrooms, with several benches distributed within. It wasn't packed, but the same could be said for the ferry. It could be said that ferries are at highest capacity at the beginnings and ends of summer, not in the middle.

Harry let out a groan of relief as he sat down with Fleur on one of the benches. That sat for a moment in silence, until it was broken by Fleur's yawning.

He didn't know how to deal with it, or to deal with it at all. The tire in her voice as she let out a long breath of exasperation sounded melodious. The whole situation as is was foreign ground every step he took. It had finally hit him, he was leaving England for the first time, and he was going to spend time in France with a woman years older than he was, where he would be able to do and practice magic.

It all sounded so drastic and impossible. Harry had a hard time believing that this was what his summer has become, a hot streak of great things happening to him, even though the end of his last year was the worst.

Good things happen to those who wait, and I've waited long enough…Harry thought.

Fleur had her head resting on Harry's shoulder, which he could proudly say, wasn't bony and instead actually had some meat on them. He observed her peacefulness, her eyes closed but knowing she was awake. Her plan was sleeping, but Harry still had questions. He needed to find out more about what was happening. He battled himself on whether to nudge her awake or leave her be and ask her later.

The inner conflict lasted a lot longer than he'd anticipated, he didn't know that the cogs in his head were turning so loudly Fleur woke up herself.

'Is zere somezing you want, Meester Potter?' she murmured with her eyes closed. Her voice, once again sending shivers down his spine as she almost purred calling him "Meester Potter".

He avoided looking at her further, and instead, outside the window of the lounge, so his mind could actually focus on the things he wanted to ask.

'Yeah…uhm…Where is…How is this going to work?' Harry managed.

''ow is wat?'

'Me, practising magic in France. I know you said you have a place that can let me do that, but how?'

'Wards 'Arry. My family has special wards zat pro'eebit monitoring from ze ministry.'

'Yeah, you mentioned that. Perks of the family, I assume?' he questioned, referring to the first letter he'd received from Fleur.

She nodded into his shoulder and continued.

'My family is a Pilar de Noblesse. Noble house in France. Very seemilar to your English Longbottom and Black family.'

Harry's knowledge of noble families only began those few seconds. He hadn't known that Neville was a part of a noble house, no less his own Godfather as well.

'What is it like, being nobility,' the words sounded odd leaving his lips. He hadn't known how to use the word or if it made sense to her. Her answer was a sufficient answer for that

'Zere are a lot of privileges of being in a noble 'ouse. One of them is ministry looks ze ozzer way and does not monitor zem. I 'ave been practeesing magic since a very young age, my sister too. You remember 'er…'

He did remember her. He remembers her unconscious form underwater alongside his two best friends and Cho Chang. He remembers panicking at the view of them below water, at the risk of losing them, even though he'd soon find out they weren't in any danger at all. He remembers waiting after Krum and Cedric had taken their respective person, waiting for the Beauxbatons Champion to pick up this little girl. He remembered the punishment for being greedy by taking two of them. Last of all, he remembered being kissed on the cheeks and thanked profusely by the Beauxbatons Champion for saving her little sister.

It was a decent change, being rewarded with a kiss on the cheek from a beautiful woman rather than a ridiculously large amount of house points to secure his house's victory.

He didn't want to hit her with another question about teaching him all about the noble families, they were both too tired to take this any further.

'That must be great.'

'Maybe…but even you would appreciate the chance of being normal, non?'

Fleur was the first person in the lounge to wake up to the silent struggles of the man she was clutching. He twitched, shook, trembled incrementally. The sleep in her eyes quickly departed and focused on trying to awaken Harry, but reconsidered. His shaking, the way his head moved from left to right, the sweat built on his temple streaming down to his neck, it was all too familiar.

She had come scrambling out of her bedroom across the hall to her parent's bedroom when he'd heard his cries. When she opened the door, she found her mother sitting at her bedside, with her hand over her husband's forehead, caressing him with the back of her fingers. She let out a soothing tone in an attempt to calm the shaking man.

Fleur ran up to the bedside where her mother was sat when she finally asked.

'Wat is wrong wiz papa?' the young Delacour asked, tugging on the brim of her mother's nightie.

'Papa is not well. But we mustn't wake 'im, ma cherie,' her mother said, bringing her hand to stroke her daughter's hair.

'Porquoi, maman?' she whined, glancing over at her father's distraught figure.

Appoline bent down and placed a soft kiss on her head, before saying

'If I wake 'im, it will do more damage than good…' she then looked back down at her husband, who was sweating, tossing, and turning under her hands with his eyes erratic under their eyelids.

Fleur would come to learn that her father suffered from night terrors following the carnage that took place in the capital of France, led by none other than Gellert Grindelwald. He watched a friend of his own die, not to a spell, but to falling rubble. The pain of watching a close friend die right before his eyes, barely a metre from his grip, and not able to save him because he wasn't fast enough. Some would say it was worse than death itself.

She pulled back her hand and instead tried a calmer approach, similar to what she'd seen her mother often do to comfort her husband. She took her free hand and raised it up to his face, slowly caressing down from his forehead to his cheek in a sweeping motion, upwards and downwards, softly cooing below his ear.

The effect was positive as he began to relax, his trembling halted and his body no longer frigid in fear. Fleur looked around, to check if anyone had been woken up by the damaged man in her arms. Sure enough, there was a woman with a muggle newspaper in hand sitting across from them, observing them over the paper. Her glance was all but creepy, rather worried. Soon, the expression turned into relief and she gave Fleur a soft smile before reverting her eyes back to the paper.

The last thing Fleur wanted to do was hurt Harry the day after he'd left his home. She wanted him to be as comfortable as he could be under her care, under her supervision. She knew she would have to face, and perhaps be shared the struggles and burdens that Harry had been forcibly given.

This was just a bump in the road, and she had the fullest intention to help him get over it.

Time seemed to pass by unnoticed as her stroking ended as her consciousness joined Harry's.

She awoke with a mild stir, her eyes fluttering briefly as she realised she'd fallen asleep once more. Sunlight was peering through the windowed lounge, a beam hitting the ground right beside them. It was much brighter than it'd been when she'd initially woke. She lifted her head from his shoulder, which she found much too comfortable with resting her head on.

It's comfort soon faded when she felt a kink in the opposite side of her neck, her left arm unwrapping itself from around Harry's arm to fly and grab it. She let out a hiss, involuntarily waking her companion.

'Hey…you okay?' He moaned as he awoke, squinting at her. She saw that he hadn't worn his glasses when he fell asleep. With no glass between them, their gazes locked, challenging one another to break the contact. The innocent connection had Fleur ignoring the pain in her neck, and rather staring into the bright emerald green eyes that belonged to the boy-who-lived.

'ow could one 'ave such emotional, such old eyes…Fleur thought.

There was something hidden behind his tire, behind the weakness of his early morning fatigue. It appeared to be pain, the same pain that she'd seen in her mother's eyes when she learnt her father had passed.

Thankfully for her, Harry broke the contact when he leaned forward to bring his other arm around to the left of her neck. He didn't squeeze nor pressure, rather he massaged The connection never wavered as his the palm of his warm hand pressed against the cold skin on her neck, sending a pleasant and chilling warmth through her, forcing her eyelids to slowly close. The goosebumps on her body made her quake, a feeling she tried and failed, to hide.

She could only assume he felt her tremble as he motioned to pull his hand away in fear of having hurt her. On instinct, she caught him with her free hand and held his hand on her neck and opened her eyes to find his again

'Much better…' she nearly moaned.

Their eyes returned to the intimate, awkward, and intense connection. Fleur blushed when her mind had finally caught up with her, realising her actions. In the few hours they've been on this little journey of theirs, it could be surmised as an endless amount of blushing and embarrassment.

The connection shattered and she dropped his hand when the intercom buzzed to life.

~Good morning and Bonjour. We are approaching the Port of Le Havre. The summer weather is good to us this morning and the waves are as calm as they could be. Please make sure your ticket and passport is ready to present on arrival.~

They'd reacted like a bunch of teenagers caught in the act as they looked in opposite directions, running their fingers through their own hair as they pondered what was to come next. Fleur was in the midst of berating herself when Harry broke the silence

'I don't have a passport,' came Harry.

Fleur nodded, picking up her sunglasses, which had been discarded beside her. Hermione had also brought that up in their letters. When Fleur thought about it, Hermione appeared to have but a multitude of more thought into this than Fleur ever could in such a short amount of time. Her brilliance could never be questioned, Fleur now knew that.

She bounced up onto her feet dragging Harry onto his as well, pulling on his arm with both of hers. He barely caught his glasses on the bench when he was yanked up.

'Need not worry. We can just get off 'ere,' she claimed, trying to run away from the awkwardness that plagued the last few minutes.

Harry looked at her again, quizzically. Fleur could only roll her eyes at Harry's consistent confusion.

She guided Harry out of the lounge and through the deck. He followed her like a dog on a leash into the girl's bathroom, displaying a brief reluctance before giving in. The door had barely swung closed when the world ahead of them twirled from the white tiling of the bathroom into a shadowy alleyway.

Fleur had caught herself much better this time around, but Harry, being the most inexperienced in most forms of advanced magical travel, stumbled onto his knees once again. It wasn't the fact it was apparition this time, it was more or less the lack of warning. She had anticipated his angry outburst, so she left to go around and peek around the corner

'Hey! You sh-' he noticed her lack of attention 'Oi!'

Harry pushed himself onto his feet and followed her to the end of the alleyway

'Y-' his words were stopped in an instant as a slender finger met his lips, with hardly any effort, keeping him silent. It was incredible how warm the man was she'd thought as she cleared the corner.

'We are good. Come,' Fleur said, walking around the corner, using her finger to beckon him to follow. His anger subsided as he followed her around the corner, where it was replaced with wonder and awe. It's been aforementioned that Harry has never seen anything outside of Northern Surrey, Diagon Alley, Hogwarts, and the Scottish landscape.

So when the boy-who-lived took his first steps into the French marketplace of Le Havre in the early morning when the foods were still being cooked and baked. The sounds of metal and wood clashing as shops were in the process of setting up, and the mixture of new smells and sights had Harry spinning in place to take in the location. It'd been like his reaction when he'd first stepped into Diagon Alley or his first steps into the Great Hall.

Fleur could only stand a few metres away, watching him as he took it all in. It was cute, to say the least, looking at the man revert into a boy for a moment as he is filled with wonder. She was glad she could give such a gift to him; be it a simple gift as well. She hadn't known how little he'd been provided over the years, so she didn't expect such little things to have such a massive impact on the boy made into a legend at such a young age.

When she first met him at Hogwarts, she expected him to be a spoilt brat that abused his fortune and status to get who and what he wants, even when he stumbled into the antechamber claiming he didn't enter himself into the tournament. She was convinced by many schoolmates, and even her own headmistress, Madame Maxime, that he was as vile as he was portrayed by the public, even with the rumours circulating him.

She was grateful that over the tasks, he had the chance to demonstrate his greater traits that painted him in a better light, which were only squandered away by the tragic end of the third task. Fleur feared to show him the latest headlines in the Gazette…

'Wonderful, non?' she asked as she did a little twirl with her arms out. She assumed from the smile on Harry's face that he was glad to be in Le Havre. ''ungry?'

'Yes, please.'

Fleur took his hand once more and pulled him along.

Sightseeing was something Harry hadn't initially looked forward to when he took Fleur upon her little ultimatum. So far it'd been a mishmash of magical teleportation from one place to another for a brief moment of extreme discomfort. Their destination of Le Havre was a sight to behold to the teenage wizard.

The sun was up well above the horizon, displaying the beautiful shades of yellow and orange in the clouds and on the seaside below them.

The pair were sat at a cafe, which appeared to be the most common type of food outlets Harry would be visiting in his time outside of Privet Drive. Fleur described it as one of her favourite restaurants in all of Normandy. Normandy, he learnt, was the county that Le Havre resided in, similar to Little Whinging in Surrey. He'd only heard of Normandy in his early history classes in primary school in Little Whinging. He'd forgotten when or where, but it was related to one of the wars in the 20th century.

Most of his memory of primary school were either discarded or beaten away. If there had been even the slightest chance that Harry would be doing better than Dudley, or at least doing anything that would arouse attention from anyone, the Dursley's would take offence and respond as they always have when Harry had done something not to their liking.

'So what is it the French like to have for breakfast?' Harry asked, twirling a butter knife under his index fingertip on the clothed table. Then came a crash of the waves on the beach below, gracing all who were near with a salty breeze amongst the Le Havre seaside.

Fleur was gazing upon the endless sands, distracted by the intricate shapes within them formed by the retreating waves. She closed her eyes and took in a breath, then let out a sigh before her focus returned to her companion.

'Hm?' she asked, her distraction enunciated.

'What do the French like to have for breakfast?' Harry asked once more, dropping the knife and pushing himself up so that his back met the backboard of the bleach white chair.

'Mostly pain, pain means bread,' she answered gleefully, enthusiastic with her beginnings in teaching him French.

'Pain, huh?' he repeated, his pronunciation off.

'Pa-in, two seellables.'

'Pain?' Harry tried once more.

'Oui.'

'And oui means yes. I can only assume non means no.'

'Good boy. You are learning,' she said with a smile as she let a finger slip into the hole of her coffee cup and brought it to her lips to take a sip.

Harry took his turn to look out into the distance, looking all but into the sun on the horizon. He's never seen such a beautiful view before, where the sun reflected off the ocean with a fantastic blend of bright and dark colours. When the sea would throw aggressive waves into the sand below, then fall away leaving a foamy-like residue for a few seconds. The beauty was only added to when a woman galloped down the beach on a patterned brown and black horse, splashing blissfully on the edge of the waters.

'Monsieur?'

Harry turned around at the voice to find a man dressed in all white, an employee of the cafe surely. He was holding a silver tray with a white cloth over it in palms of his hands, with a basket of fresh hot bread, and next to it was various assortments and condiments. He proceeded to unload the tray's contents onto their table, careful not to hit their plates or utensils.

You'd think Harry spending the majority of his school year in the presence of French and Bulgarian students, he would actually be able to grasp the basics of their languages.

'Mercy.'

Fleur head fell as she let out a giggle and a shake of the head, while the waiter looked at him and nodded before walking away. It was a nod of acknowledgement of his foreignness and pity if ever he'd seen one.

Harry turned to Fleur, but she was already on her way to correct him

'Mare-see, not mercy,' she said in between laughs.

'Merci?'

Fleur nodded and covered her mouth to hold back another wave of laughs. She could only assume what the rest of his lessons would be like if he were this clueless.

Let us 'ope 'e is better with 'is wand zan 'e 'is wiz 'is tongue…Fleur thought, her expression turning sour and her face red when she noticed.

'You okay?' Harry asked, noticing the change.

'Oui,' she answered quickly, picking up a croissant from the basket. She then gestured with it for Harry to grab one of his own, and so he did.

'Just pain?' he asked unamused 'A little monotonous don't you think?'

Fleur responded with a mock offence, placing her hand over her heart in exaggeration.

'Just. Pain?!'

This was Harry's turn to shake his head in humour, then taking a bite of the croissant. It was hot but just hot enough for the butter and bread to have a delicious blend. Nonetheless, Harry found it underwhelming, it was

'Bland much?'

Fleur tut him while sliding a couple condiments on their respective plates, across the table, which Harry recognised to be butter and jam despite the foreign language. Before he could grab the butter, Fleur dragged it back with the tip of her butter knife, then cut her self a small slab and slathered it in her croissant.

'Like so,' she said, sliding the plate back to Harry as she took another bite.

Harry took her delightful expression as his cue to follow what she'd done. He took a decent slab of butter with his knife and applied it to his croissant and took a bite.

The combination of a sweet and bitter taste between the butter and the layers of bread brought a similar level of delight upon Harry. He resisted to display it, to keep some level of dignity in his time with Fleur. Forcing out of his lips

'Pretty good,' he said as coolly as he could. Fleur only gave him a sarcastic smirk in return. She pulled her mug closer to her and proceeded to dip her croissant into the hot coffee. Harry had known of dipping doughnuts into coffee from his uncle, he'd never thought the French did the same with their croissants.

Harry reached over to grab his cup of coffee which was still hot and not drunk, with the intention of continuing to follow in his companion's footsteps.

'So…Le Havre is nice,' Harry commented, looking out at the horizon. It's been nearly thirty minutes since they've finished their breakfast at Café Crêpe. After they finished the croissants, trying out both butter, jam, and a quick dip in a coffee mug, they ordered the signature Crêpe's the cafe offered.

Now, they decided to take a walk down at the beach. Spending the morning gazing down at the golden sands below did much to influence them.

'It is a lovely town. My muzzer used to take Gabby and me up 'ere for summers,' Fleur said, looking down into the sands as she dragged her toes through them. In her right hand, she held her gladiator flats. She wanted to feel the sand between her toes, for she couldn't remember the last time she went to the beach.

She took precautions against the sweeping waves by rolling up a few centimetres of the ends of her jeans. Which was proven to have been a good idea as a wave had just crashed and momentarily submerged her feet.

Fleur reacted by yanking them out of the cool water, triggering a squeal as she bumped into Harry.

'Cold?' Harry teased, sarcasm dripping in his tone as he mocks her startle.

The French Veela wasn't exactly ticked off by his word, she just didn't like getting caught in an embarrassing moment like she was now. So the turning of tables was arranged as she grabbed Harry by the wrist and pulled on him. Harry stumbled towards the sea graced sand of the beach, having his sneakers descend into the wet sand and the seawater reaching his socks.

'Hey!' Harry exclaimed as his feet did their best to minimise the damage.

Eventually, he gave up as another wave crashed from behind him and drenched his shoes and much of the lower parts of his trousers. Fleur could see him seething with mild anger, but the moment she let out her laughter, his expression turned to confusion.

Fleur couldn't tell what it was about Harry that made him so very reluctant and resistant to get mad or frustrated with her. Even now, when she'd, very intentionally, gotten his clothes wet, he was grinning, on the verge of joining her in her laughter. Laughter that was directed at his own demise to nature.

It was a side of Harry that Fleur didn't have the privilege of seeing in her time at Hogwarts. A side she never could have seen before now because she spent the majority of her time at Hogwarts thinking and treating Harry as if he was the opposite of what he actually was. He lacked all the elements of a spoilt rich brat, and could easily tell what one looked like because she attended a school with far too many of them.

She couldn't remember when she began running up the beach, her bare feet trying so hard to push her further and further away from the man who was giving chase. All they could hear was the sands beneath their feet as they ran, and the calming morning waves by their side, and the laughs that plagued the air between them.

With the occasional trip in her step, it would send her within range of Harry's form of retaliation: a measly kick into the water towards her. She heard the kick, and felt a spray of sea water his the back of her plaid shirt, sending her galloping for a larger lead.

Years it must have been since she'd smiled so large…and real.

Their chase didn't last long as Fleur found out the hard way that she was out of shape, and was being chased by a Seeker. Their profession is to chase after something tiny and fast, both of which she was not.

Fleur started shivering under the chilliness brought on by Harry's attacks as various areas of her body got progressively wetter. He didn't feel the need to hold back she suspected. It may be summertime, but it is still early in the morning.

She found it due time to throw her hands up in the air, the back of her hands facing her pursuer

'Okay! Okay! I surrender!' She shouted over her shoulder with a laugh.

'Ain't that a French thing to do,' commented Harry as he approached. Harry soon bit the dust — or more appropriately, the sand — when Fleur drew her wand from her holster and cast a tripping jinx non-verbally behind her. She was delighted when she heard a grunt as his face met the dry sand of the beach, and so she continued walking ahead while emanating a slight shiver.

'That's cheating,' Harry finally said before sputtering the sand from his lips.

Though Fleur didn't care for it much, she was too focused on guiding the scouring charm around the wetter areas of her shirt and her soaked jeans. When she felt free of the invasive waters, she flicked her wand towards Harry's feet, cleaning out his shoes and lower parts of his trousers. Though not completely clean, it was enough for Harry to be happy to not have wet socks anymore. The sound of squishing with every step he took was annoying as it was.

It sneaked up on Fleur, her tire forming into a yawn leaving her lips. If she were willing to bet, Harry too was tired. They'd both had not the best of comfort when they crossed channel into France's wards. Apparition was great because it was only a brief moment of discomfort, but spending a near quarter of the day sleeping on a boat, sat up on wooden benches wasn't exactly the most appealing form of transport.

She didn't know how it had been prolonged, how they've been distracted from the one place they were supposed to go when they crossed into France. They were hungry, and so they ate. Now they were spending the better half of the morning like kids at the beach. Fleur was tired, and it was bound to happen, so she raised her arm once more while she looked up and over her shoulder at her surroundings.

'Another jump I presume?' Harry asked.

'Non,' she looked down back at him 'I just wanted to 'old your arm again,' she teased.

She let a few seconds pass as Harry tried to assemble a sentence in his rising blushes. Fun was a weak way of describing why she keeps doing what she does. Exhilarating maybe. Harry Potter was not like other wizards, for more than the obvious reasons. He seemed completely immune to her allure, and it was not due to the natural reasons that would grant immunity.

Such immunity gave her a gift that she could only ever experience with a number of individuals less than she could count with one hand. The ability to feel like a normal girl, where her Veela blood plays little, if not no role in what they experience together. He hasn't once drooled over her like his redheaded best friend had, nor stare uncomfortably from a distance like she was a magnet to his eyes. If ever he was caught staring at her, it would be for other reasons, and he would actually have dignity and embarrassment for doing so.

So if teasing him would help her feel like a normal human being, why would she ever stop?

'We are not going to leenger around a beach all day, are we?' she asked rhetorically, beckoning him to grab on 'If it 'elps, we are just going over zere,' Fleur said, pointing across the river. Provided the river was ten kilometres wide, it is hard to see the land at the other end of the said river, which unsettled Harry briefly.

'Well, it's a short distance, I think?' He hoped. If there was anything he knew about apparition, it's that discomfort scales with distance. Little Whinging to Portsmouth had him feeling like his innards had gone through a liquidiser. Though from the ferry into Le Havre, it wasn't as pleasant as it could be, if only she'd given him a heads up.

'Oui, now…' she shook her arm impatiently.

Harry groaned as he grabbed on and felt squeezed, top to bottom before he landed on his feet. The apparition itself was brief, and the two managed themselves in the middle of a quiet, small street.

They could still hear the waves of the ocean behind them, so they weren't ways of distance from the beach, but apparently, to Harry, they had crossed the river. He released his hold on Fleur and let her guide him to wherever she intended on bringing him.

They walked down the street by the seaside for a minute until she stopped in front of their destination.

'Voila. 'ome sweet 'ome,' Fleur said quietly gesturing at the home in front of them.

Harry's eyes scanned the home, which took to a compact four-story home. It was small, definitely smaller than his home in Little Whinging, but it compensated by having several floors, he guessed. If he really let his imagination wander, he would assume it was bigger on the inside like the tents at the Quidditch World Cup.

'I know it is small, but it is 'omey,'

Fleur walked towards the double doors at its base and opened the doors while gesturing to the plaque on the wall beside it.

It read:

La Tour

3 Rue des Bains, Villerville

Harry ignored the fact that the door was unlocked. When he opened his mouth to speak, she was already inside, and so he entered as well.

The ground floor wasn't a place to brag about, it wasn't exactly cramped, but it didn't seem designed to be a place where most people would linger about. There was a couch against the wall to his right and a fireplace to the right. The distance between the two walls was under two metre's long, yet didn't give emit a cramped atmosphere about the place.

Fleur reached around Harry to shut the door before she began to speak.

'Zis 'ome is under ze Fidelius Charm, a very powerful, very old protection ward.'

Harry nodded along, with her so far.

'Practically, zis 'ome cannot be seen, cannot be 'eard, and cannot be plotted on any map.'

He raised his eyebrow at this, impressed at this scale of magic. His knowledge of wards has been limited to Protego Totalum, which was something he'd read at the end of his textbook by accident. A spell that could properly keep him safe for once, since the "safest place in England" was definitely not doing the job.

'This is brilliant Fleur, thank you,' Harry thanked standing awkwardly, unsure if he should hug her or something.

Fleur could only laugh once more that morning

End Notes: Here's a fun fact for your readers. All locations in this story are real, including the cafe's to La Tour itself. La Tour is a home that was built in the mid 1800s. It is located in Villerville on Rue des Bains. You can look it up to can a photo reference for the place.

If you spot any discrepancies or inconsistencies in Fleur's dialogue in regards to the accent, just remember, her accent is annoying to write.