Harry Potter and the Second Chance - Chapter 73 - A Free Man and Party Invitation

Harry walked down toward the Great Hall with Ron and Hermione, his heart lighter than it had felt in some time. His steps had a bounce to them, and he couldn’t keep the grin off his face if he tried. He’d stayed up far too late the night before, recounting every detail of Sirius’s trial to Ron in the common room. He had repeated every shout in the chamber, every memory shown in the Pensieve, the stunned expressions of the Wizengamot, and finally, the cheers that had erupted when Sirius Black was declared an innocent man.

Ron had looked gobsmacked, then thrilled, and finally a little disappointed that he hadn’t been there to see it all himself. Hermione had just smiled warmly as Harry spoke, her hand lightly resting on his as if to just show her support and convince him that it had really happened.

Now, as they pushed open the doors to the Great Hall, Harry’s spirits refused to dim. He slid onto the bench at the Gryffindor table, and it didn’t take long before Harry noticed that a few of the other students leaned toward him with curious looks on their faces.

“Why’re you in such a good mood, Harry?” asked Dean, already halfway through his eggs and toast.

“I, er …” Harry faltered, realizing he didn’t quite know how to answer. When Dumbledore had floo’d them home he had told Harry that the news would come out soon enough. What was he supposed to say? The rest of the wizarding world still saw Sirius as a mass-murdering psychopath. He opened his mouth, then shut it again, unsure.

He caught movement from across the hall and looked up to see Fleur at the Ravenclaw table, her striking eyes locked onto him with a raised eyebrow. She tilted her head, clearly having noticed something different with him, even from there.

However, Harry was spared from having to come up with an answer when a sudden gust of wings filled the Great Hall.

Hundreds of owls swooped in through the high windows, more than Harry had ever seen at once, their wings flapping noisily as they soared over the tables. A storm of letters and newspapers dropped into laps, bowls, and mugs with soft thumps and startled gasps. It looked as if almost every student and staff member seemed to have received something.

Harry blinked in surprise.

Hermione looked around in awe.

Then Harry grinned, nudging Ron. “She got it,” he whispered.

Ron looked at him, puzzled for a moment, then his face lit up in realization, remembering the letter Harry had mentioned sending off as soon as Hermione and him had returned from the Ministry. “You don’t think …” he started, then turned and snatched a copy of the Daily Prophet from Seamus, who was gaping at the front page as though it had slapped him.

“Oi!” Seamus protested weakly, but Ron ignored him.

He scanned the headline, then passed it to Harry with a wide grin. “Looks like you might want to read this, mate.”

Harry took the paper and stared at the enormous, bold letters splashed across the front page:

SIRIUS BLACK IS INNOCENT

Beneath it, in slightly smaller print:
Previous Ministry Administration Made Grave Mistake

And the byline, practically glowing off the page:
By Rita Skeeter

Harry couldn’t help but laugh, amazed and relieved. “She got my letter,” he said aloud. “She must have spent all night chasing the story.”

Hermione looked impressed despite herself. “Well, I suppose she can be useful when it suits her.”

Around them, the volume in the hall was rapidly rising. Students were flipping through their papers, pointing, whispering, shouting. Some looked shocked. Others were looking around nervously. A good portion of the Great Hall was now staring openly at Harry, mouths moving, but Harry didn’t care.

He looked up at Hermione and grinned. She returned the smile and quietly reached out grasping his hand and squeezing reassuringly.

It took the soft clap of Dumbledore’s hands to bring the chaos of the Great Hall to a lull. Somehow, that single gesture silenced most of the room. Conversations halted as every eye turned to the headmaster.

“I can’t recall the last time I saw so much mail arrive at once,” he said, his eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles. “Though judging by the excitement, I imagine that by the amount of noise in the hall I know what everyone is so excited about.”

He paused, his expression turning serious. “To start off with I want to assure everyone that the story in the Daily Prophet is true. Sirius Black was found innocent last night. The charges against him have been dropped, and he is no longer a fugitive.”

A wave of gasps and shouts rippled across the room, and Dumbledore raised his hand again. “Yes, yes. It is, I know, a serious piece of news …” he allowed himself a tiny smile at the pun, “but I can confirm that after twelve years in Azkaban without a trial, Mr. Black was indeed wrongfully imprisoned. A very frightening thought, and one we must take to heart.”

Harry watched him with a feeling of gratitude swelling in his chest.

“There will be more information forthcoming in the days ahead,” Dumbledore added. “But for now, I encourage you all to attempt to return to your breakfasts. No reason to let the food go cold.”

He sat back down, and at once the buzz returned. Students turned back to their newspapers, friends leaned in close to gossip, and the hall was filled once more with voices.

Harry tried to focus on his plate, chatting with Ron and Hermione as though half the room weren’t sneaking glances at him.

“I still can’t believe it,” Ron said through a mouthful of toast. “The whole story’s in there … what happened in the Shrieking Shack, Pettigrew being alive, the trial, everything. Even several quotes from Susan’s aunt.”

Hermione’s eyes sparkled. “It’s going to change everything. Sirius … your godfather, he’s really free.”

Harry couldn’t stop smiling. He poked at his sausages a bit, then stood up. “I don’t think I can eat right now, I’m going to head out.”

Hermione stood as well. “I’ll come with you.”

Ron looked between them and his plate. “Er …” he hesitated, clearly torn between wanting to support his friend and the sausages.

Harry laughed. “Don’t worry, mate. We don’t have our first class until ten, so I’ll find you later.”

Ron beamed and turned immediately back to his food.

As Harry and Hermione stepped out into the corridor, they nearly collided with Fleur.

Her expression lit up the moment she saw him. “Harry!” she exclaimed. “I just saw the paper! I am so ’appy for you. Is it true? Everything?”

Harry nodded and opened his mouth to respond, but then he caught a glimpse of Dumbledore making his way out of the Great Hall. He hesitated.

“Can I tell you all about it soon?” he asked. “I just want a quick word with Dumbledore.”

Fleur nodded understandingly. “Of course.”

Hermione smiled at Harry. “I’ll take her to … our room. We’ll wait for you there.”

Harry nodded and watched them head toward the stairs, Fleur already leaning close to Hermione with a dozen questions, before turning and running over towards Dumbledore.

“Professor,” he called out.

Dumbledore turned, and his face softened. “Harry. I was hoping to speak with you.”

Harry walked beside him for a few steps. “I just wanted to thank you. For everything you did to help Sirius.”

Dumbledore looked surprised. “I didn’t do that much.”

Harry stopped and, without warning, wrapped his arms around the old man in a hug.

Dumbledore went still for a heartbeat, then rested a hand gently on Harry’s back.

Pulling away, Harry said quietly, “That’s not true. You did everything. It means the world to me … and to him.”

For a moment, Dumbledore looked distinctly choked up, the corners of his eyes a bit misty. “Thank you, Harry,” he said finally. “That means more than you know.”

They resumed walking slowly.

“Sirius spent the night at the Ministry,” Dumbledore said after a pause.

Harry’s eyes widened, and he stiffened slightly.

“It’s nothing bad, Sirius is doing quite well, Harry,” Dumbledore reassured him quickly with a small smile on his face. “They had questions. Understandable ones. In reality he might end up staying there a couple of nights while they attempt to get this all sorted out. There were just a rather large number of forms to fill out. Bureaucracy, you understand.”

Harry couldn’t help but grin. “Sounds about right.”

“I truly believed that the Ministry would have tried to drag their heels on releasing the news but … well, it seems a certain reporter found her way into the Ministry armed with information that … encouraged the Minister to move faster with his announcement.”

Harry smiled but said nothing.

Dumbledore looked at him with an eyebrow raised. “I would suppose you would have no idea how she found out about the trial would you?”

Harry shrugged and tried to look innocent which caused Dumbledore to chuckle briefly.

“As I suspected. Well, I it was a good idea,” Dumbledore confirmed, amused. “And for once, I’m not displeased she got her story. It truly was a well written piece of work.”

They stopped on the landing that led to Dumbledore’s office where the headmaster laid a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “You did well, Harry. And I’m proud of you. Not just for how you handled yourself at the trial, but for how you fought for what was right. Too often we all just wait for someone else to do the right thing. And because of what you did I’ve no doubt that by this weekend, he will officially be free to go and do anything he wants.”

The words brought a wave of comfort crashing over Harry, and he nodded gratefully. “Thank you. Again.”

Dumbledore waved a hand gently. “No need, my boy. Don’t worry. Everything that should have been made right long ago finally is.” He gave Harry a final nod. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a few loose ends to tie up before the day grows old.”

With that, Dumbledore turned and strode away down the corridor, his cloak trailing softly behind him.

Harry stood still for a moment in the hallway, then took a deep breath and began walking. His feet took him up the stairs and through the castle’s winding corridors until he reached the seventh floor. Facing the smooth door that was already there he smiled before opening the door.

His eyes shot up in surprise when, he found Hermione and Fleur seated shoulder-to-shoulder on a wide, plush couch. The magical mirror Harry had crafted for Hermione rested in front of them, softly glowing with one of his enchanted memories playing across its surface—a flickering vision of him and Hermione in the common room, laughing over a book while snow fell outside.

At the sound of the door closing, both girls turned. Their faces lit up, and Fleur immediately rose from the couch and walked over to him with a radiant smile.

“‘Arry,” she said warmly, drawing him into a gentle hug. She kissed him on both cheeks before leaning back and beaming at him. “Hermione told me all about your previous night and then while we waited she showed me this mirror … what a beautiful gift. I can see how much you care for ‘Ermione. Truly.”

Harry’s face flushed, and although he was surprised Hermione showed anyone else the gift he glanced at Hermione with a soft smile on his face. “I do,” he said quietly.

Hermione looked down, but her eyes were shining. Harry didn’t see the wistful expression in Fleur’s eyes as she took a small step back.

By the time Harry looked back to her, Fleur had composed herself and was brushing her hair behind her ear as she tilted her head, curiosity dancing in her gaze, “After seeing this … I was wondering if you could tell me a bit more about you?”

Harry blinked. “Me?”

Fleur nodded. “I’ve spent a lot of time with Hermione recently. She talks about you constantly.” She turned and gave Hermione a knowing smile.

Hermione’s cheeks turned a deeper shade of red, and she looked away quickly. Harry glanced at her, surprised but slightly amused.

“There’s not really much to tell,” he said modestly.

Fleur gave a delighted laugh and waved a hand. “We both know that isn’t true.”

Harry hesitated, then rubbed the back of his neck. “Honestly … most of the only reason I survived most of the things that happened to me were because of my friends. Without them, I would’ve been dead multiple times over.”

“That’s very modest of you,” Fleur said gently. “But it doesn’t mean your story isn’t worth hearing.”

She smiled more gently now. “If it helps, I can share stories about myself, too. We can learn about each other.”

Harry glanced toward the couch. Hermione was watching him with encouragement in her eyes, and her hand reached out, patting the seat beside her.

He gave a small smile and nodded. “Alright.”

The three of them settled onto the couch. Harry sat between them, Hermione’s hand finding his. The mirror continued to play its muted, flickering images in the background, casting soft light across the room.

He took a breath. “Alright. I’ll skip most of my childhood. Not a lot of good there, really. But …”

He paused, then began.

“First year at Hogwarts… well, it was the first time anything really felt right.” He told Fleur about his first moments in the magical world, his disbelief when Hagrid appeared with his letter, his awe at Diagon Alley, and the wonder of his first ride on the Hogwarts Express. He described meeting Ron and Hermione, the bond they formed, and the wild year that ended with them trying to stop Professor Quirrell—who turned out to be harboring Voldemort—deep in the school.

Fleur’s eyes widened as he described the trapdoor, the challenges that they faced together, and how he had come face to face with Voldemort for the first time. “And that was just the first year,” he finished with a small shrug.

She placed a hand over her heart. “Mon dieu.”

Harry chuckled softly. “Yeah. I thought it was insane too.”

From there he went on to describe his second year—the whispers in the walls, the fear, the attacks. He explained the legend of the Chamber of Secrets, the basilisk, and how he discovered he could speak Parseltongue. Then came the final confrontation with the basilisk itself and the diary of Tom Riddle.

Fleur gasped. “You faced a basilisk? Alone?”

“Well, Fawkes helped,” Harry said modestly. “And so did the Sorting Hat, sort of.”

Hermione gave his hand a squeeze. “He barely made it out.”

Finally, Harry launched into his third year—the revelation about Sirius, the fear of the Dementors, and how he’d thought he was being hunted, only to discover Sirius was his godfather and had been trying to protect him all along. He even described the Time-Turner, the rescue of Buckbeak, and how he had cast a full Patronus to save both himself and Sirius.

“And then … well, Sirius had to run,” Harry said. “He was still a wanted man.”

Fleur sat back, visibly stunned. “You have lived more in three years than most do in their whole lives.”

Harry shrugged. “It’s not really something I planned.”

As promised, Fleur offered stories of her own—her childhood in southern France, the rigorous training at Beauxbatons, and the pressures of being constantly treated differently because of her Veela heritage. Her voice dropped slightly as she admitted that, outside her family, she’d had very few close friends. “There are only a few people who seem to be capable or interested in seeing beyond the surface,” she said, not bitterly but with a quiet sadness.

Harry noticed how she looked at him when she said it.

Eventually, after over an hour of talking and sharing, Harry let out a breath and said, “Well, I think that’s just about everything there is to know about me.”

Fleur reached out and gently took his free hand in hers, her touch soft and unexpectedly comforting. “Thank you,” she said sincerely. “For sharing that. You should never feel like you have to hide any part of yourself. Not from people who care.”

Hermione squeezed his other hand, and he looked between them, surprised. When Hermione let go and leaned back, Fleur’s hand lingered a moment longer before doing the same.

“There is certainly more to you than I expected,” Fleur said softly. She looked between Harry and Hermione, her cheeks a little flushed. “Harry, Hermione … I cannot tell you how much I enjoyed this morning. I …”

She hesitated, then smiled more shyly than he’d ever seen her. “I … I really hope I have the opportunity to spend more time with you both like this again.”

Hermione smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “We’d love that.”

“As much as I’d like to spend all day here with the two of you, I think I need to walk back to the carriage and grab somethings,” Fleur said after the smile finally disappeared from her face, rising gracefully to her feet.

“Well,” Hermione said quickly, standing too, “why don’t we walk with you?”

Fleur’s face lit up. “I’d really enjoy that.”

“Me as well,” Hermione replied with a grin, already moving toward the door. Harry followed as the three of them exited the Room of Requirement and began heading down the corridor together. But just as they reached the staircase leading toward the entrance hall, Hermione came to a sudden stop.

“Oh no,” she muttered, patting her robes. “I left one of my books in the dormitory.”

Harry glanced back at her. “It’s fine, we’ll wait for you …”

“No, don’t be silly,” Hermione interrupted, already turning around. “It’s alright, I’ll catch up with you later.”

Before Harry could respond, she darted off down the corridor at a brisk pace, her robes fluttering behind her.

Harry stood there blinking, a little thrown. “That’s … not like her,” he said aloud, more to himself than Fleur. “She always has everything with her. At all times.”

Fleur chuckled lightly and waved off his concern. “It is no worry. I do not mind at all. Would you … still walk me to the carriage?”

Harry hesitated a second, then nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

Her smile was dazzling as she stepped closer and gently took his arm. Harry froze at the sudden contact, his brain short-circuiting from the light brush of her fingers and the delicate scent of her perfume—like fresh lavender mixed with something sweeter, softer.

She tugged gently at his arm, and he started walking before his mind could catch up.

As they moved through the castle corridors, Harry couldn’t help but notice how many students they passed. It felt like the halls were suddenly busier than usual, especially with it being first thing in the morning. And more noticeably, everyone seemed to be staring at them.

At one point, they passed a group of Ravenclaws who all went quiet mid-conversation, wide-eyed. One of the girls let out a stunned gasp, and Harry could have sworn she mouthed, Is Potter with Delacour?

Harry paused on one of the broader landings and turned to her, his face faintly flushed.

“Uh, Fleur … we probably shouldn’t be doing this,” he said, motioning awkwardly to their linked arms.

Fleur raised a delicate eyebrow. “Are you not enjoying my company?”

“No … it’s not that. I am,” Harry said quickly, then offered a sheepish grin. “It’s just … you know how fast gossip spreads around here. And I don’t really want to hurt Hermione.”

Fleur’s expression softened. She looked at him for a moment, then smiled gently. “And that,” she said, “is why you are perfect.”

She leaned in without hesitation and placed a kiss on his cheek before letting go of his arm and continuing down the corridor ahead of him.

Harry stood there stunned for half a heartbeat, his cheek tingling. Then he blinked, quickly shook his head, and hurried to catch up with her, trying, and failing, to ignore the flutter in his stomach.

The rest of the walk to the carriage was filled with Fleur telling him more stories of her childhood. She painted pictures of summers in the French countryside, of chasing dragonflies near the riverbanks with Gabrielle, and of her earliest attempts at wandwork, some of which ended in comical disaster. Harry listened with genuine interest and a growing sense of appreciation. There was something incredibly real about Fleur when she spoke like this, with no pretense or polish.

When they finally arrived at the ornate silver carriage stationed near the edge of the grounds, Fleur turned to face him.

“If you ever find yourself in France,” she said, a touch playfully, “you are very welcome to visit. My parents would love to meet you, especially after what you did during the Second Task.”

Harry shook his head. “I didn’t really do anything special—”

Before he could finish, she placed a finger over his lips and gave him another quick kiss on the cheek.

“Don’t argue,” she whispered with a wink. “Have a good day, ‘Arry.”

And with that, she turned and disappeared inside the carriage.

Harry stood there for a long moment, dazed. He rubbed the spot on his cheek and exhaled slowly before turning back toward the castle. The warm buzz in his chest lingered all the way to the entrance hall … until he was intercepted by two very familiar voices.

“Well, well, well,” said George Weasley.

“What do we have here?” Fred added, appearing on Harry’s other side.

“Just walking back,” Harry said a bit too quickly.

“From where, dear Harry?” George teased.

“From an enchanted carriage? With a certain Veela girl clinging to your arm like a Niffler to gold?” Fred said dramatically.

Harry rolled his eyes and kept walking, the twins falling into step beside him.

“Nothing’s going on,” he muttered.

“Of course not,” George said, grinning. “Just a friendly stroll and two kisses on the cheek.”

“Strictly platonic,” Fred agreed, winking.

Harry laughed as he shook his head. “She’s just a friend.”

“Sure she is,” they chorused as they followed him up the stairs, still laughing.

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The next couple of days passed without much excitement. Classes continued as usual, and though the hallways still buzzed faintly with whispers about “Harry and his godfather,” nothing came of it.

By the time Friday morning arrived, things had mostly returned to normal. That was until a familiar snowy owl soared through the Great Hall during breakfast, a cream-colored envelope clutched in her talons.

“Hey, Hedwig,” Harry said with a grin, taking the letter as he gave her a piece of his morning sausage.

The handwriting was unmistakable. He tore the envelope open and read:

Dear Harry,

It’s official. It took a couple of days, but I am now, by all legal standards, a free man. No chains. No trials. No dementors. I’m home.

I’ve spent the last few days at the Ministry, swimming in an ocean of paperwork and enduring what felt like non-stop interrogations. Honestly, by the end of it, I almost felt nostalgic for the solitude of Azkaban … almost.

But I’m writing this letter from the safety of my own house, where I’m free to come and go as I please. Though, to be perfectly honest, I’m still adjusting to it. There’s been a non-stop parade of witches and wizards trying to find my house. Apparently, word got out. I’ve been buried under apology letters, fan mail, and—believe it or not—marriage proposals. From Britain, France, even Australia and Canada.

Apparently, I’m the most eligible bachelor in the wizarding world. Who knew?

I’d hoped to invite you over quietly, just to spend time together. But … Andy heard my plan. And, well—there’s now an official “Welcome Back to Society” party being thrown tomorrow. Despite my very vocal protests. But Andy … well, once she decides something, that’s it.

And Harry, while I’d rather just see you, I really hope you’ll come. It’ll give me an excuse to avoid mingling with half of Wizarding Britain.

Please, bring as many friends as you’d like. Honestly, the more the better. I’ll need backup.

Sirius

P.S. Mary suggests your friends check in with their parents before accepting. She’s being responsible. Go figure.

P.P.S. And yes, Mary and I are still spending time together. Turns out, she didn’t just like me because of the bad boy, wanted fugitive thing. Must be my charm. Or my hair. Probably the hair.

Thanks again, Harry. For everything.

As Harry finished reading Sirius’s letter, he could barely keep the grin off his face. His fingers clutched the parchment tightly, and for a moment he felt like leaping up and shouting to the whole Great Hall.

He caught himself just in time, settling for a huge smile and a triumphant look across the table at Hermione and Ron, who were already eyeing him with raised eyebrows.

“Well?” Ron prompted, pointing at the letter. “Good news?”

Harry nodded, his voice bubbling with joy. “It’s done. Sirius is free. Officially. All the paperwork is sorted. He’s at home.”

Hermione gasped and leaned over the table to hug him tightly. “Oh, Harry, that’s wonderful!”

Ron reached over and patted him on the back with a grin. “That’s brilliant, mate. About time.”

Harry couldn’t stop smiling. “He’s having a … well, apparently his sister planned a ‘Welcome Back to Society’ party for him tomorrow. He says I can bring friends. I hope both of you can come?”

Hermione straightened up, her hand still resting on his arm. “I don’t think it’ll be a problem. I told them all abut your godfather over the summer and now that he’s free, my parents will be thrilled to hear about this.”

“I’m going to owl Mum and Dad right now,” Ron said, already standing. “Better to let them know straight away.”

To Harry’s surprise Ron left a half-eaten plate of food before running out of the room.

Harry looked at Hermione who looked equally shocked before the two of the burst into laughter and stood up from the table. After making their way down the aisle, the two of them left the Great Hall, stepping into the entry hall, energized by the prospect of seeing Sirius again so soon. However, as they rounded a corner near the grand staircase, Harry nearly collided with Fleur.

“Ah, bonjour!” Fleur greeted them with a bright smile. “Good morning.”

“Hi, Fleur,” Harry said, still grinning. “You won’t believe it, I just got a letter from Sirius. It’s official. He’s free.”

Her expression lit up. “Mon dieu, that’s wonderful!” She stepped forward and gave him a quick, celebratory hug. “I am so happy for you!”

“Thanks,” Harry said, still slightly flustered from the contact. “He’s having a celebration tomorrow and suggested I invite as many of my friends to come along as I want. I was wondering if … you’d like to come with us?”

Fleur’s eyes sparkled. “I would love to.”

Then she paused and looked to Hermione. “Hermione? Would you want to get ready with me tomorrow? I would imagine you’ve yet to have attended many formal pureblood events. I could tell you all about them and help you be prepared.”

Hermione blinked, surprised, but quickly nodded. “Thank you, that would be … really helpful. I’ve only ever read about them.”

Harry feigned offense, putting a hand to his chest. “Hang on. This is for my godfather. I haven’t been to any either. Why don’t you help me prepare for what is going to be involved?”

Fleur turned to him with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Oh? Are you asking to be in the same room as us while we are changing, ‘arry?”

Harry’s jaw dropped. He immediately turned bright red, completely caught off guard.

Hermione burst out laughing, and Fleur joined her, clearly delighted by his reaction.

Fleur finally waved her hand and said with a teasing grin, “Sorry, ‘arry. You’re on your own. But if you’re planning to arrive with both of us on your arms, you’d better bring your A game, oui?”

Harry opened his mouth, but Hermione cut in smoothly.

“Oh, Harry certainly will,” she said with a knowing smile, slipping her arm around his in support.

Fleur nodded in satisfaction. “Good. Then I will look forward to it.”

She turned to Hermione again and said, “Come to the carriage first thing in the morning. We’ll have much to do.”

Then she looked back to Harry. “We should be ready around two in the afternoon.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that a bit early? I figured the party wouldn’t really start until later.”

Fleur smiled in agreement. “Most of the guests will begin arriving around six. Though, I imagine your godfather would prefer they arrive even later. But I imagined you might want a bit of time with him alone. Before the event actually begins arrive.”

Harry’s smile returned, warmer now. “That’s … a terrific idea. Thanks, Fleur.”

Fleur gave him a soft smile in return. “Then it is settled.”

With that, she turned and started down the corridor, her silver-blonde hair catching the morning light.

Hermione glanced at Harry as they continued walking. “She’s right, you know. You should get some time alone with Sirius before all the society people descend.”

Harry nodded. “Yeah. It’s weird, though… part of me still can’t believe he’s free. Like, it doesn’t feel real yet.”

Ron rejoined them just as they reached the landing. “Letter’s sent! Told Mum it’s Sirius’s party and that I might be staying late. She’ll probably just be thrilled it’s not another life-threatening event.”

The three of them shared a laugh as they made their way off to Professor McGonagall’s classroom.

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The next morning, as the early sun streamed across the Hogwarts grounds, Hermione made her way toward the Beauxbatons carriage with a bundle of carefully folded dresses in her arms and a healthy dose of nervousness fluttering in her chest. Fleur had been quite excited about getting ready together, and while Hermione had enjoyed their recent closeness, there was something else now, a subtle tension she hadn’t been able to define.

As she climbed the steps of the ornate silver-and-blue carriage, the door opened before she could knock. Fleur stood there, radiant as ever, with a wide smile lighting up her face.

“Bonjour, ‘ermione!” Fleur greeted warmly, leaning in to kiss both of Hermione’s cheeks. “I am so happy you came.”

Hermione smiled. “Wouldn’t miss it. I brought a few things, including the couple dresses I have that I thought might work for the event.”

Fleur waved a hand dismissively. “We will look at them, but I was hoping you would consider one of the dresses I have. I think I have just the thing.”

Hermione hesitated. “You really don’t have to …”

“Non, but I want to,” Fleur said insistently, taking her arm and pulling her inside before leading her towards a room that Hermione hadn’t seen before. The room was larger than Hermione expected, softly lit with floating candles and decorated in pale silvers and creams. The centerpiece was an exquisite armoire, carved with the Beauxbatons crest and gilded in floral patterns.

Fleur walked over to it, flung open the doors with a flourish, and Hermione gasped.

Inside were at least two dozen dresses, each more breathtaking than the last—silks, satins, and velvets in shades of midnight, sapphire, rose gold, and moonlight white. Some shimmered as though laced with starlight, while others caused her to blush.

“Fleur, these are … they’re stunning. I can’t wear these!”

Fleur turned, hands on her hips. “Why not? You would look magnifique in all of them.”

“They’re … too much. I mean, they’re for someone like you, someone meant to be seen.”

Fleur shook her head and stepped closer, her tone softening. “And yet, I see you, Hermione. Trust me. I be honoured to have someone as beautiful as you wear them. Now then no arguing … what shall we do with your hair?”

Hermione, caught somewhere between flustered and overwhelmed, hesitated. “I hadn’t really thought about it yet …”

Fleur stepped behind her and lightly gathered some of Hermione’s curls in her fingers. “Maybe we could do something like what you did for the Yule Ball? You were stunning that night. I remember how Harry couldn’t stop looking at you.”

Hermione’s cheeks flushed pink. “You think that would work?”

“I know,” Fleur said, gently releasing the curls. Then, smiling to herself, she added, “Perhaps I’ll do something like that myself.”

As they sorted through the dresses and began preparing, Fleur leaned down to pick something up, and Hermione’s eyes betrayed her and lingered a second too long.

When she looked up, Fleur was staring right at her with an amused, flirty smile.

Hermione’s mouth went dry.

Fleur walked closer, hips swaying, and whispered, “I do appreciate the attention, ma chère. Very flattering. But … we have no time for that now.” She winked and smiled, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Maybe later.”

Then, as she moved past, her hand brushed along Hermione’s lower back and gave her a playful pat. “Très joli,” she added with a smirk.

Hermione stood there a hot blush rising in her cheeks. She wasn’t sure whether she should be mortified or thrilled.

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Harry checked the giant clock again for what felt like the tenth time in the past minute. It was just past two thirty. He adjusted his robes, which were dark navy with subtle silver accents—formal enough for the party, but hopefully not so stiff that he felt out of place.

He was about to pace again when he heard the front doors open behind him.

He turned—and his jaw dropped.

Hermione and Fleur stood side by side in the front entrance. Their dresses, while not as formal as Yule Ball gowns, were more elegant and flattering than anything Harry had expected. Hermione wore a deep plum dress that hugged her waist and flowed around her legs in gentle waves, her hair done up in soft curls pinned with tiny amethyst clips. Fleur wore a tight, silver dress with an iridescent shimmer, sleeveless and cut just right to suggest allure without being overt. Her hair was twisted into an elegant braid that draped over one shoulder.

The way they were looking at him made his heart thud awkwardly in his chest.

Hermione gave him a nervous smile, brushing a curl behind her ear, and Fleur let out a light laugh as they approached.

“Mon dieu, ‘Ermione we have made him speechless,” she teased.

Fleur leaned in and kissed both of Harry’s cheeks. “You look very handsome, mon chevalier.”

Harry blinked, shaking his head slightly as he came back to himself. “Er … wow. I mean—you both look amazing. Really, really amazing.”

Hermione laughed, her nerves soothed a little. “Thank you, Harry.”

Fleur smiled and dipped her head. “Merci. You’re very sweet.”

Harry nodded toward the corridor. “You ready? Dumbledore just came by—said the Floo connection to Grimmauld Place is all set. They’re expecting a decent number of students to show, so he had a room prepared to use.”

The girls nodded and each took one of Harry’s arms as he led them down the hallway.

They reached the room Dumbledore had indicated in the morning, a small antechamber just off the Great Hall. One with a wide, ornate fireplace already glowing with a fire in it. A brass tray sat beside it with a silver bowl of Floo powder and a note that read: Destination: Grimmauld Place.

Harry turned to the girls. “Right. I guess I’ll go first, then you come through.”

They both nodded, stepping back to give him space.

Harry took a pinch of the powder, stepped into the hearth, and clearly said, “Grimmauld Place!”

The green flames flared up around him, and with a whirl of heat and color, he vanished.

Hermione and Fleur exchanged a look.

Fleur grinned. “I think this will be fun.”

Hermione smiled back, her pulse still fluttering. “Yeah. Me too.”

Kind Regards,

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If you like this content do not hesitate to smash that like button and subscribe. Haha but seriously if you do enjoy the story - do favorite it, other than messaging me or leaving a comment it's the only way I know if you are enjoying the stories and chapters.

Story Note 1 – Obviously for the sake of the story I do want to have Hermione and Fleur and Harry spending some time together so there will certainly be more scene like this and sure feel that it is important that they spend time getting to know each other.

Story Note 2 – Sure seems that Hermione set the whole scene up so Harry and Fleur were able to walk together to the carriage together. Pfff forgetting your things, ya right Hermione.

Story Note 3 – Not entirely sure how specific you need to be for Floo travel for instance when the Weasley’s went with Harry to Diagon alley they didn’t have to specify the exact fireplace and I’m assuming they didn’t end up all over Diagon Alley so I imagine there is more to it and by simply saying Gimmauld Place they would go to the correct one.

Story Note 4 – Should be a fun party! I imagine they will end up growing even closer …

Thanks to those of you out to those of you who enjoy my stories, I promise to keep updating the stories as long as you enjoy them, and a special thanks to those of you who have taken the time to leave feedback or reach out to me directly.

Disclaimer – It has come to my attention recently that I unfortunately do not own Harry Potter. Who knew.