FIC: Guiding Harry Chapter 8: Meet the Family (November 2024)

Summary: On the eve of the Second Task, Fleur spends time with her family and introduces them to her mate.

Fleur stared at the fireplace in Professor McGonagall's office as eagerly and impatiently as she'd stared at the front door when she was a young girl waiting for her father to return home from work. She was a grown woman now and a Triwizard Champion at that, but she couldn't contain her girlish excitement while waiting for her family to arrive. Exchanging letters with them was nice, but there was no replacement for seeing them in person. She could see the knowing smile on Madame Maxime's face as they waited together, but Fleur didn't try to hide her excitement. Madame Maxime was one of the few people outside her own family that she didn't mind showing this side of herself to. She had always been kind to Fleur and understanding of the unique challenges of being a veela surrounded by horny boys and jealous girls.

Her head snapped up as the fireplace came to life. Fleur’s mother stepped out first, looking as beautiful and elegant as ever, not dirtied in any way by the floo travel. When in unfamiliar company, Apolline Delacour was often mistaken as Fleur and Gabrielle’s older sister rather than their mother, something which always amused her. As a child, it had annoyed Fleur that people thought her mama was actually her sister. These days, she was happy for the genes her mother had passed down to her. She was looking forward to being the subject of similar misunderstandings when out with her own daughters someday.

Fleur smiled at her mother and walked across the office to greet her, but before she could actually reach her, a tiny ball of energy ran forward at full speed and collided with Fleur’s chest. She grunted thanks to the collision but put her arms around her excitable little sister all the same.

“Fleur!” Gabrielle squealed into her chest in French. “I missed you so much, Fleur!”

“I missed you, too, Gabi,” Fleur said, smiling and squeezing her little sister in her arms. While hugging Gabrielle, she smiled over her at her mother, and also her father who brought up the rear in coming out of the floo.

“Hello, Fleur,” her mother said. She didn’t run to embrace Fleur as Gabrielle had, but she looked no less happy to see her.

“Hello, maman,” Fleur said, smiling at her while continuing to hug Gabrielle, who did not seem in any hurry to let go of her. Fleur didn’t mind that. She would hold her little sister in her arms for as long as Gabrielle wanted. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

“We wouldn’t have missed it for the world, Fleurette,” her father said, giving her the same easy smile he always had when he opened the door after coming home from work and finding her waiting for him.

“Papa!" she exclaimed, giggling just as she had so often when she greeted him as a girl. No matter how her life changed as she grew older and dealt with the attention, both good and bad, that came with being a veela, her father had a knack for making her feel as light and happy as she had back when she was a young girl who had yet to face the jealous glares of women or the perverted stares of men.

“Why don’t you let go of your sister so the rest of us can greet her properly, Gabrielle?” their mother said with a smile, stroking Gabi’s back.

“Don’t wanna,” Gabrielle mumbled. “I missed her too much.”

“Not as much as I missed you, Gabi,” Fleur said before she kissed the top of her little sister’s head. “But my mate is waiting for us, you know. The sooner you let go so maman and papa can greet me, the sooner I can introduce you to Harry.”

That did the trick. Gabrielle let go of her almost before she’d finished giving her that enticement, and she stepped back and started babbling to herself about the Harry Potter and his pet unicorn. Fleur smiled and shook her head. She’d written back to her sister, informing her that she should not believe half of the stories she’d read about Harry, but it would seem that she was going to have to meet Fleur’s mate in person to understand that he wasn’t the hero from her storybooks. And yet, as Fleur could attest, the reality of who Harry was surpassed all of that nonsense. She couldn’t wait for her family to get to know the man who she was to spend her life with.

“Ah, Harry Potter. I suppose I’ll have to hide my jealousy at not being the only man in your life anymore,” her father said lightly as Fleur stepped into his arms and hugged him. She didn’t throw herself at him as Gabrielle had with her, but she didn’t hug him with any less joy.

“Do not tease him, please, papa,” Fleur said while they hugged. She didn't correct him about Harry not technically being her first because he was right in all the ways that mattered. “He is nervous enough about meeting you as it is.”

“Harry Potter, the legendary Boy-Who-Lived, nervous about meeting me!” he said as Fleur let go of him. He grinned and thumped his chest with his hand. “It’s enough to make a man feel like he’s doubled in size—which I wouldn’t mind at all.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Well, I wouldn’t mind doubling my height, at least.” His hand patted his round belly. He’d always been rather plump, even when Fleur was a girl, and age hadn’t done him any favors there. “My belly, on the other hand, is quite large enough as it is. If it gets any bigger, your mother might very well leave me for a younger, handsomer man.”

“Oh, please," Fleur's mother said, rolling her eyes. "As if any other man could ever make me as happy as you do, no matter how muscular his body might be." She kissed him on the cheek as he chuckled, held onto his arm, and snuggled into his side now that he was no longer hugging Fleur. She probably would have rested her head on his shoulder if it wasn't for her being taller than him.

Fleur smiled as she watched her parents together. It was true that her father could not compare to her mother in terms of physical appearance. Most people looked at short, plump Sebastian Delacour and assumed that a woman as beautiful as Fleur's mother could only be with him because of the influence he wielded in the French Ministry of Magic, but Fleur knew better. When they first met over twenty years earlier, her father had been one of the lowest-ranking employees in the entire Ministry of Magic, had little in the way of gold, and even less in connections.

Her mother had fallen in love with him anyway, and her father always insisted that he’d only worked his way up to become one of the most important men in the Ministry because the love of his wife gave him confidence and also inspired him to work as hard as he could. Fleur had seen the love that her parents shared even before she was old enough to understand it, and now that she had found her mate, she understood it even better. Her mother could take her pick of men, both when she was younger and to the present day. But from the moment she’d found the one she was meant to be with, she hadn’t spared any other man a second thought. Fleur was the same way. No other man was worth her time now that she had Harry.

“You look happier than I’ve ever seen you, Fleurette,” her father said to her after she’d exchanged cheek kisses with her mother. He was still smiling, but his voice was sincere now.

“I am,” Fleur said, nodding at him. “And you know who is responsible for that, so I expect you to take it easy on him.”

“Of course,” he said, nodding back. “I may be an old man now, but I can still remember how sweaty my palms were when Apolline introduced me to her parents for the first time. I promise I will be as kind to him as Laurent was to me. No threats from me, even in jest.”

“Good,” Fleur said, satisfied with her father’s answer. He loved joking around, but he understood that he shouldn’t be teasing or pretending to threaten Harry just yet. He’d stood in Harry’s position before, a veela’s mate being introduced to her parents. She could trust him to take it easy on Harry, at least until he was more comfortable.

"C’mon, c’mon!” Gabrielle said, tugging on their mother’s free hand. “Let’s go meet Harry Potter!”

“Maybe it’s you I should be worried about, Gabi,” Fleur said, taking her sister’s other hand. “Come. If I’m holding onto your hand, maybe I’ll be able to stop you from tackling him the moment you see him.”

--

Fleur’s mother stifled a laugh as they rounded the corner and caught their first glimpse of Harry, who was trying to smooth down his unruly hair nervously. Predictably, his efforts were in vain.

His head jerked toward them when he heard their footsteps, and Fleur saw his throat bob as he swallowed. He walked toward them and did his best to smile pleasantly, but Fleur was sure that his anxiety was as apparent to her parents as it was to her. Gabrielle was too busy squealing at her first sight of the Boy-Who-Lived, but thankfully, Fleur still had a hold of her sister’s hand and was able to prevent her from running to hug him right away.

“Maman, papa, Gabi, this is my mate, Harry,” Fleur said, handling the introductions as their group reached Harry in the Great Hall. “Harry, this is my papa, Sebastian Delacour.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” Harry said, extending his hand.

“On the contrary, the pleasure is mine, Mister Potter,” her father said. “I have to thank you for all you’ve done.” Harry winced slightly, and Fleur felt like she could look straight into his mind and see him thinking that he didn’t deserve any of that. She knew how he felt about people glorifying him for the sacrifice his parents made when he was still a baby, and she’d assumed her father would know better than to speak to him like most people did. Before she could quietly admonish him, he continued. “I do not mean for being the Boy-Who-Lived, understand. I’m thanking you because, from the moment I stepped out of your professor’s fireplace and saw my daughter for the first time in months, I could see how happy she was. I know I have you to thank for that, Mister Potter. So, allow me to shake your hand and thank you for being good to my daughter.”

Fleur’s cheeks heated up briefly at her father saying something like that to her mate, but her blush was nothing compared to Harry’s. He was still blushing as her father grasped his hand and gave it a firm shake, but Fleur was pleased to note that he didn’t look away.

“You’re welcome, sir, but I don’t think I need to be thanked for that, either,” Harry said. “I’m the one who’s thankful for Fleur coming into my life.” Her father laughed and nodded his head.

“Yes, I understand what you mean, believe me,” he said, letting go of Harry’s hand. “The feeling never goes away, I’m happy to say. I wake up every day feeling just as fortunate to have Apolline in my life.” That earned him a kiss on the cheek from his wife, who held his arm again while smiling at Harry.

“This is my mother, Apolline Delacour,” Fleur said. It wasn’t really necessary, but Fleur still continued on with the introductions.

“I’m so happy to meet you at last,” her mother said. “Fleur has had so much to say about you in her letters home. I look forward to getting to know you for myself.” She held her hand out to him.

“Fleur's told me loads about you, too," Harry said. He took her mother's hand, but rather than shaking it, he brought her hand up and kissed the back of it. Fleur smiled, relieved that he'd remembered to follow her advice despite his obvious nervousness about this meeting. Her mother's dazzling smile let her know how much the gesture was appreciated. Fleur could even feel her mother letting off a bit of her allure, but Harry's eyes did not glaze over, and his mouth did not hang open, not even for a moment. Fleur was sure that both of her parents were as impressed by him at that moment as she had been when she first realized he wasn't reacting to her the same way all the other boys around her did during the Yule Ball.

“I want to meet him, too!” Gabrielle whined in French. Her English wasn’t very good, so she might have a harder time communicating with Harry than their parents would. Language barrier or not, she was still dying to meet him. “Let me go, let me go!” She tried yanking her hand out of Fleur’s, but Fleur held onto her.

“Behave, Gabi, or you’re going to make him uncomfortable,” she said under her breath. Gabrielle muttered to herself, but she stopped trying to pull away, so at least she was listening. Now that she was confident Gabrielle wasn’t going to try throwing herself into Harry’s arms right away, Fleur walked over to Harry while holding her sister’s hand.

“Harry, this is my sister, Gabrielle,” she said. Harry smiled and crouched down to look into Gabrielle’s eyes.

“Bonjour, Gabrielle,” he said. “I’m sorry, but I only know a few words of French.” Fleur whispered a translation to her sister.

“That is okay,” Gabrielle said, in slow English that was far more heavily accented than Fleur’s had been even when she first came to Hogwarts several months earlier. After nearly four months of speaking English almost exclusively outside of the Beauxbatons carriages and spending the last two months around Harry as much as possible, Fleur's pronunciation had gotten better, though she knew there was still plenty of room for improvement. Gabrielle would have had nearly no conversations in English outside of her lessons, though, and it showed. “Eet is n-nice to...recontrer you?”

“Meet,” Fleur said, smiling and squeezing her sister’s hand. “It is nice to meet you.” Gabrielle slowly repeated her greeting, and Harry smiled.

“That’s really good,” he said. “Loads better than my French.” Fleur translated what he said for her sister, who giggled.

“I would be happy to teach you,” Gabrielle said quickly. Harry looked to Fleur for an answer, and she translated her sister’s offer for him. Harry laughed, and their father put a hand on Gabrielle’s shoulder.

“Maybe we should start with lunch, and save the French lessons for the evening,” their father said. He took Gabrielle’s hand from Fleur. “Come, my little princess. Let’s have an early lunch.” Gabrielle was reluctant to be pulled away from Harry, but with the promise of lunch, she allowed her father to lead her into the Great Hall. Fleur’s mother took Gabrielle’s other hand, and Fleur happily hooked her arm through Harry’s to join them.

It was a Tuesday, and the actual lunch time for Hogwarts students was still over an hour away, so the Great Hall was empty aside from Cedric Diggory and an older man, presumably his father. Hogwarts champions were free to attend or skip lessons at their discretion, and with the Second Task awaiting them the very next day, she was not surprised to see Diggory also not adhering to his regular class schedule today. Cedric looked up from his place at the Hufflepuff table and gave Fleur, her family, and Harry a friendly wave as they entered the Great Hall.

“So, that is Cedric Diggory,” Fleur’s mother said as their group made its way to the Gryffindor table. “I’ve seen his picture in the papers, but he’s even more handsome in person.”

“I’m right here, you know,” her father said. “If you’re going to start drooling over a man young enough to be your son, at least wait until I’m out of earshot.” Despite his words, his tone was light and playful. In order to enjoy a long and happy marriage to a veela, a man had to be confident that he was the one she wanted to be with. Fleur’s father had never displayed any jealousy or insecurity about their marriage and his wife’s desirability, and he didn’t display any now either.

“You know you’re the only one for me, dear,” she said, giving him a little kiss on the cheek. He beamed and waved his hand over the bench as if escorting her to her seat. “It’s probably not polite of us to speak in French any more than we have to around Harry. He might wonder if we’re talking about him.”

“Uh, it’s no problem,” Harry said as Fleur’s parents sat down on one side of the bench. Fleur sat down on the other side, across from her mother, and Harry sat next to her. “Speak in whatever language you’re comfortable with. Besides, Fleur can fill me in if there’s anything I need to know.”

“So you want me to interpret the next time my mama swoons over how attractive she thinks Cedric is, then?” Fleur asked.

“Err, no, that’s okay,” Harry said awkwardly, shaking his head while Fleur’s mother laughed into her hand.

“The other boy is pretty cute,” Gabrielle said as she sat down. Instead of sitting down next to one of her parents, she walked around and sat down on Harry’s other side. “But Harry is cuter.”

“I won’t interpret that for you, Harry,” Fleur said. “But I agree with my sister.”

--

After helping Gabrielle get the food she wanted, Fleur grabbed some lunch for herself. She ate light, mostly because she was more interested in talking with her family than she was in eating. Catching up with her parents and listening to Gabrielle talk excitedly about life back in France, at least when she wasn't trying to ask Harry questions about his life, was the perfect way to spend an afternoon. She could tell that Harry was making a good impression on her parents, but she'd expected nothing less. He was obviously nervous, but just by being himself, he impressed them more than some smooth-talker with a smarmy smile ever could have. Thank goodness they hadn't been here to see her enter the Yule Ball on the arm of Roger Davies!

“So, you’re both going with the Bubble-Head Charm, then?” her father asked. They'd been chatting about lighter things to begin with and doing their best to help Gabrielle understand that her Boy-Who-Lived storybooks were almost entirely fiction. Eventually, her father brought up the tournament, wanting to make sure she was prepared for what was awaiting her.

“Yes,” Fleur confirmed. “I quickly decided that it would be the best method for me to use. Harry had to work hard to learn the charm and cast it reliably enough for it to be viable for him, but he’s ready.”

“That’s a powerful bit of magic,” her mother said, looking at Harry. “I seem to remember us not learning that charm until our last year at Beauxbatons.”

“It’s taught in the sixth year here at Hogwarts, I’ve been told,” Fleur said. “But Harry can master any spell when he sets his mind to it, and I worked with him on it." She took another small bite of food with her fork held in her right hand and rubbed the back of Harry's hand with her left. She'd been casually resting her hand on top of his on the table since they sat down, and she'd seen her mother look at their hands and smile more than once. Being a veela herself, she obviously understood the desire to casually touch her mate anytime she was in his presence. Fleur was sure her parents were touching in some fashion on the other side of the table, too.

“I’m glad you two have had each other to rely on,” her father said. “I do apologize that I was not able to get any gillyweed for you, though. I wish I could have been more help.”

“That’s okay, sir,” Harry said after swallowing a mouthful of juice. “I know it was really short notice. Thank you for trying.”

“It’s the very least I could do, Mister Potter,” Fleur’s father said, smiling at him. “And I wouldn’t mind if you call me Sebastian.” He chuckled. “I hear yes, sir, or oui, Monsieur Delacour more than enough while at work. I prefer less formality when I’m not wearing my work robes. But only if you’re comfortable with it, of course.”

“That sounds good,” Harry said. “Then please call me Harry, Sebastian.”

“Harry it is!” her father said brightly. “And if you need anything from me in the future, please do not hesitate to ask, Harry. I promise I’m usually more capable of getting things done than I was with your gillyweed request.”

“Thank you,” Harry said. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Fleur could see that Harry was feeling much more relaxed than he had been when waiting for her family to arrive, and she shot her father a grateful smile across the table. He smiled back and gave her a wink.

“Splendid,” her father said before clapping his hands. “Now, how about some dessert? That quiche was fantastic, but I could go for some crepes now. What about you, Gabrielle? Do you want some crepes?”

The mention of crepes excited Gabrielle enough that she dropped her latest attempt to speak across languages to ask Harry if at least some of those storybook adventures had been true. They’d tried to be gentle about it, but Fleur could tell that her sister was disappointed about all of her books being made up.

“After we’ve finished eating, maybe you can ask Harry to tell you stories about his quidditch matches,” Fleur said to her sister. That got Gabrielle’s attention right back, as Fleur knew it would. Unlike Fleur, who had never cared much for flying until she got to share Harry’s broomstick, Gabrielle was quite interested in broomstick flying and in quidditch. She was still too young to fly an actual broomstick, but she had a toy one that restricted her to hovering off the ground slightly. When her parents or sister couldn’t find Gabrielle, the spacious backyard was the first place they looked. More likely than not, as long as the sun was still out, they would find her ‘flying’ her toy broomstick from one side of the yard to the next.

“So he really is great at flying?” she asked quickly, looking around Harry at Fleur before returning her attention to him. Harry couldn't understand the conversation, but he'd heard Fleur mention his name, and with how often they were both looking at him it was obvious they were talking about him. Fleur smiled and gave his hand a squeeze.

“The stories are mostly fake, but that doesn’t mean Harry isn’t just as heroic as you’ve always thought he was,” Fleur said to her sister. “And his skill on a broom is one thing the stories DID get right. I don’t know if maman told you, but he outflew a dragon during the First Task.” Gabrielle gasped, and her eyes went comically wide. She tugged Harry’s arm and started speaking quickly before realizing she was talking to him in French. She started over, speaking in halting but excited English.

“You really outflying a dragon, ‘arry?”

--

“I think your sister may be even more impressed with this Harry than the one from her books,” Fleur’s mother said. She laughed as she watched Gabrielle swing her arms around in the air, likely mimicking some quidditch move or another.

“Of course,” Fleur said, smiling beside her mother. “Gabrielle may like stories about magical princes with phoenix familiars who always swoop in to save the day, but she loves flying.” Fleur didn't know enough about the sport or about flying in general to have any clue what they were talking about, which was why her father had been appointed as the interpreter between Harry and Gabrielle. He wasn't much of a flier himself, but he at least knew more about quidditch than Fleur, so it was his duty to ask Gabrielle's questions to Harry on her behalf and translate his answers into French for his eager daughter. Fleur and her mother, meanwhile, were sitting in the seats and watching them under the comfort of a warming charm. It wasn’t immediately clear why Gabrielle had to hear these stories on the quidditch pitch or why she asked Harry to bring his broom, but Fleur had a feeling her sister was up to something.

They watched in silence for a bit, smiling as Harry answered Gabrielle's questions and her father explained what he was actually saying. The Second Task was less than 24 hours away, but Fleur felt relaxed and content here with her family and her mate.

“It was nice to see you getting along with a young woman around your age again,” her mother said after some time had passed. “I’m not sure if I’d seen you with a friend like that since before the change.” ‘The change’, of course, was Fleur growing into her veela side, turning men into idiots and driving away all of her former friends through no fault of her own.

“Hermione?" Fleur thought about that for a moment, deciding how to respond. Hermione had caught up to them briefly in between classes just to make sure she and Harry were both prepared for tomorrow and to check one final time on the availability of gillyweed. She’d said hello to her family briefly, and Fleur was sure her ability to speak French had impressed them well enough, but she was surprised the conversation had left enough of an impression on her mother for her to bring it up again now. “I’m not sure that I would consider her a friend. We get along well enough, and Harry seems to think we could both use each other.”

“He’s a smart boy,” her mother said. “You should listen to him.”

“You know how difficult friendships are for me,” Fleur said, looking away. She’d tried a few times since hitting her maturity, and it had never ended well.

“I do,” her mother said. “I’ve gone through it all, as you know.” She touched Fleur’s shoulder, getting her to look at her again. “But it isn’t always as hard as it has been for you over the last few years, you know. You’ve been surrounded by young men and women dealing with raging hormones that they don’t know how to control yet. But as you get older, and the people around you become more mentally and emotionally mature, it gets easier to find friends who won’t get jealous of you because some fools drool and stare at your derriere when you walk by.” Fleur snorted and shook her head.

“You would know her intentions better than I,” her mother continued. “But if this girl has been cordial with you and shown no jealousy toward you, even though she was the woman most prominent in his life before you came along, what do you have to fear by taking a chance and letting her in?”

“I will think about it," Fleur said after a long moment. She'd already been thinking about it since Harry's suggestion in Hogsmeade, in truth, and her mother had given her even more to think about. She did feel like she and Hermione were growing more comfortable with each other, but could she truly consider it a friendship yet?

“That’s all I ask,” her mother said. “I just want you to be happy.”

“I am happy," Fleur said, watching Harry say something that made Gabrielle laugh, clap her hands, and jump up and down after it had been translated for her. "Deliriously so."

“Yes, I can see that.” Her mother smiled as Fleur’s father approached them. “I am so happy for you, Fleur. He is a wonderful man. A man worth all of the trouble that he comes with.” Fleur’s back stiffened, but her mother put a hand on her back. “I am not trying to talk you out of being with him. I, better than most, know how foolish it would be to try and come between a veela and her mate. That doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to worry about the troubles you two might face. Harry is a remarkable young man, with powerful enemies.” She lowered her voice. “Your father has reason to believe that You-Know-Who might still be out there somewhere, in some form.”

“He is,” Fleur said bluntly, making her mother suck in a breath. It hadn’t been easy to hear that part of Harry’s life story while they got to know each other, but “Harry’s encountered him. Multiple times, in fact. And the next time he encounters him, I will be by his side to help him.” Her mother heaved a sigh.

“Yes, that is what I’m afraid of,” she mumbled. “As I said, I know better than to try and talk you out of anything. You’re even more stubborn than I am, and you’re a veela who’s found her mate. There isn’t a force on this planet that could stop you from trying to protect him. Just promise me you won’t go looking for trouble.”

“I won’t,” Fleur said. She meant it, too. She wasn’t going to go hunting for the Dark Lord. But if he or his followers tried to harm Harry again, they would have a territorial veela to deal with.

“That will have to do,” her mother said. “Just remember that your papa and I are always here if you need us.” She kissed Fleur’s cheek. “And I do approve of him, of course. I can see how happy he makes you, and if it comes to it, I can tell he’ll be fighting to protect you just as much as you’ll want to protect him. You make a great team.”

“We do,” Fleur agreed, mollified now that she was sure her mother wasn’t trying to talk her out of being there with Harry to support him through whatever he faced in the future. Her parents were just concerned for her, and she appreciated their concern. But she was a Triwizard Champion, not some cowardly girl. If anyone or anything tried to harm her mate, they were going to have an angry, protective veela to deal with.

Her father, oblivious to their serious discussion, gave them his usual affable smile once he reached them. Both Harry and Gabrielle were standing at the edge of the pitch and watching them, so whatever he’d come over to say obviously concerned them.

“Gabrielle has pleaded with Harry to take her up on his broom,” Fleur’s father said. Before her mother could do more than open her mouth, he held up his hand to ask her to wait. “Harry promised that he wouldn’t take her any higher or fly any faster than she would be capable of going on her toy broom. It’d just give her a feel for what an actual broom felt like, rather than the toy version she’s used to.” Fleur’s mother glanced at her, and Fleur nodded readily. If Harry promised he wouldn’t take her up high or fly fast, he meant it. Her mother nodded back.

"It's fine with me," she said. He grinned, turned back toward Harry and Gabrielle, and gave them a thumbs up. Gabrielle giggled and bounced in place, and Fleur couldn't help grinning at her sister's happiness. She was monopolizing her mate's time, but Fleur couldn't bring herself to be upset about it. She loved her sister too much, and watching her with Harry filled her chest with warmth.

Harry said something to Gabi, and his instructions were simple enough for her to understand despite her limited English. She held her hand in the air, obviously trying to summon the broom. It took a few tries, but eventually, Harry’s Firebolt jumped into her waiting hand. The delight on Gabrielle’s face as she summoned a real broom into her hand for the first time was a look Fleur was going to remember forever.

A lump formed in Fleur’s throat as she watched Harry and Gabrielle climb onto his Firebolt together so he could give her a taste of being on an actual broomstick. She loved seeing him together with her sister, but as she watched them, she pictured Harry doing the same with another young veela with silvery-blonde hair several years from now while Fleur watched.

Her mother hadn't said anything that Fleur hadn't already realized herself about the danger that came with taking Harry Potter as her mate. But Fleur would not let anything, whether it be the Triwizard Tournament, You-Know-Who and his followers, or whatever else might come their way, deprive her of the future she could picture for them both.