June 2023 Monthly Poll Winner - Harry/Fleur - You're Losing Me Part 1 (Patreon)

AN: Hello everyone! This Monthly Poll Winner is going to be a bit different because I was so inspired by the prompt that I decided to make this its own mini series. I'm currently planning on writing five chapters that will all come out within a couple of weeks.

This story will be heavily romance focused, but I promise that the smut will arrive eventually. There will be a lot of jumping back and forth in the timeline, so be prepared for that as this story unravels.

Thanks again to Robert for the wonderful prompt and to all of you for reading!

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Once again, Fleur was awoken to the sounds of chaos below her. Despite being an early riser herself, it boggled her mind how anyone could be so boisterous and noisy at five in the morning. The back door to the Burrow slammed shut as Molly rushed outside to water her garden before the sun could rise and dry out the soil too much.

Fleur stretched out in her fiancé’s bed, letting the thin sheet that covered her nude form fall to the wayside as she sat up and peered out the small, round window beside her. There was Molly, still dressed in her nightgown, bustling around the garden as she inexpertly performed various charms to send the gardening equipment to work. Fleur had tried to help her out once by pointing out how she could improve her wand movements slightly to lead to more-accurate and less-taxing spellcasting, but Molly hadn’t wanted to hear any of it. “I’ve been doing this for over two decades now, dear. I know what I’m doing.” Molly’s words had irked Fleur, but she decided to let the matter lie rather than start a fight over it.

Fleur slipped out of bed with a catlike grace. She was light on her feet as she moved around the room, gathering a fresh set of clothes and a thin negligee to keep her bits covered as she headed out to take a shower. Throughout the whole process, Fleur purposefully avoided looking over at the empty side of the bed and the bare bedside table next to it.

Once she was decent, Fleur crept out of her room and started down the stairs. There were only three bathrooms in the Burrow: a small one on the main floor, one on the second floor beside the twins’s bedroom, and an ensuite bathroom on the fourth floor in Molly and Arthur’s room. Sharing the second floor bathroom with so many people had taken some getting used to, especially since Fleur had grown up having her own private one, but it wasn’t so bad as long as she used it when everyone else was asleep.

Luckily for her, the rest of the Weasleys seemed to enjoy sleeping in despite the unbearable noise.

The bathroom was filled with steam before Fleur entered the small shower. She had brought her magically-expanded bag of toiletries with her and started her normal morning routine of gently washing her skin before using her specially-made shampoo and conditioner to ensure her hair stayed as perfect as could be. It was entirely necessary as her innate Veela charms would keep her clean and beautiful, but it did give Fleur that extra special touch that elevated her above anyone else, and it felt good cleaning herself like this.

Reluctantly, Fleur slowly reduced the temperature of the shower as she used her body wash. She needed the water cool to help keep her skin moisturised and her hair healthy and shiny. She only stayed in as long as she needed to to get clean, and then she eagerly hopped out of the shower and set about drying her hair, using a nice cleanser on her face, and moisturising her skin before getting dressed in a light-blue summer dress.

When she opened up the door to the bathroom to leave, she wasn’t surprised to see Ginny brusquely shoving her way inside before Fleur could leave.

“Took you long enough,” Ginny grumbled bitterly under her breath. “Other people have to use the bathroom too, you know.”

Fleur ignored the young redhead and the way the door slammed shut behind her as she stepped out. Ginny seemed to never have a lack of complaints about Fleur and the way she did things, so Fleur just tuned her out. Still, it did wear on her after a time. She’d barely been at the Burrow for a month and she was already hunting for a flat she and her fiancé could rent on their salaries. Unfortunately, between his dedication to the unpaid work the Order gave him and his frivolous spending on various odds and ends for his curse-breaking job, Bill wasn’t likely to contribute much to their housing costs. It was why he had suggested that they just stay at the Burrow after all, but it wasn’t like he was around much to deal with the constant stream of annoyances and passive aggressiveness that Fleur faced.

The clattering of pots of pans grew louder as Fleur descended downstairs to the kitchen. Fleur cringed at the angry sounds of various charms working discordantly together. It took careful spellwork to ensure harmony in a kitchen, and Molly didn’t seem interested in improving her work.

“Morning, Fleur,” Arthur Weasley smiled nicely at her before he returned to the latest issue of the Daily Prophet.

“Morning,” Fleur smiled back lightly. Out of all of the Weasleys who still lived at the Burrow regularly, Arthur was the best. He was always kind and caring to her, but he wasn’t around much; he was too busy with work and tinkering with muggle artefacts in his shed to spend much time with her.

Just as Fleur started towards the table, the only other inhabitant of the Burrow she hadn’t yet seen this morning, Ron, abruptly jumped up from his seat at the table and rushed around to pull out Fleur’s chair for her before she could sit down.

“Thank you,” Fleur grimaced awkwardly, very aware of Ron’s attempt to look down the front of her dress as she sat down. He was struggling the most with her passive allure, and his constant leering was making Fleur more and more uncomfortable with each passing day. She was at least thankful that he hadn’t done something completely stupid yet like barging into the bathroom while she was showering.

Molly turned around from the stove top. “Good morning dear,” she said to Fleur before she looked over to the stairwell. “Ginny!” Molly roared loudly, making Fleur cringe. “Breakfast!”

With another twist of her wand, Molly sent a dozen plates of heavy, greasy food onto the table. Fleur gingerly took a couple slices of toast, some marmalade, and the smallest fried egg for herself, ignoring the rest of the food. However, before she could even start eating, a messy pile of potatoes, bacon, and eggs plopped down onto her plate.

“You see dear, we prefer heartier breakfasts over here so that we can work harder during the day,” Molly explained patronisingly to Fleur as she stowed her wand away. “You’re far too skinny as it is; you’ll never be able to raise children properly like this.”

Fleur took a deep breath. Bill had warned her about his mother, but he expected her to just deal with it. Ever since she’d arrived here, Molly had always been poking at her about her weight, body shape, and when she and Bill would finally have children of their own.

“I prefer a light breakfast,” Fleur replied evenly, rehashing the same argument they had at least twice a week.

“Nonsense,” Molly replied, completely ignoring Fleur’s opinion. “You need to stay fit and healthy, and the only way that’ll happen is if you eat enough to get some meat on those bones of yours.”

Fit and healthy were the last thing Fleur thought of when she looked at the greasy food in front of her. She wished she was back in France. She almost always started her day with a slice of toast with various toppings like pesto, marmalade, butter, cream cheese, radishes, or various other vegetables and a poached egg. It was a simple but delicious way to start her day alongside a hot coffee.

“I really would prefer to fill my own plate how I’d like,” Fleur insisted.

Molly opened her mouth to speak but stopped short when the fireplace suddenly ignited. Everyone turned and watched as Harry Potter stumbled out of the fireplace, nearly falling flat on his face as he tripped over his own two feet.

“Harry!” Ron exclaimed gleefully, rushing to his friend’s side, leaving Fleur forgotten.

The Weasleys all got up and crowded around Harry—even Ginny came running downstairs, her hair still damp from her shower, and gave Harry a bone-crushing hug—and welcomed him back.

“We weren’t expecting you until tonight,” Arthur said kindly.

“Yeah, well,” Harry laughed as he scratched the back of his head, “I may have bugged Dumbledore enough into letting me come early. I am of age after all, so it’s not like I couldn’t leave whenever I wanted.”

“You should listen to the Headmaster,” Molly chastised him lightly. “He knows what’s best.”

“Right,” Harry grimaced.

“Well, come on in and sit down,” Arthur said, gesturing to the table.

Fleur had been watching Harry the entire time. He looked good and much taller, healthier, and stronger than the last time she saw him. It had just been his eighteenth birthday a couple weeks ago, and she’d sent along a brief letter and a packet of treacle fudge that she knew he’d like. He really seemed to have filled out nicely, but his smile was still the same one she remembered from the year she spent at Hogwarts during the Triwizard Tournament.

That was the last time she had seen him. The last time they had spoken in person.

When Harry’s eyes landed on Fleur’s face, his entire demeanour changed. It was as though he’d just been struck by a cheering charm as he hurried over to her side, ignoring Ron’s calls to come sit beside him on the other side of the table.

“Hi, Fleur,” Harry smiled at her as he settled down in the chair next to her.

“Hello, little boy,” Fleur teased.

No one noticed Harry kicking her shin playfully under the table, and no one noticed when she retaliated by snaring one of his toes in between two of hers. Throughout the whole meal, the two of them played footsies together under the table, and no one was any the wiser.

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Fleur decided that Roger Davies was a terrible dance partner. Not only did it seem like he was born with two left feet, he couldn’t even be bothered to look away from her chest long enough to watch where he was stepping. They were only three songs in and he’d already half-heartedly apologised seventeen times for stepping on her toes, and that didn’t even cover all of the times he did it.

He tried to twirl her around but ended up ‘accidentally’ bumping into her so that his hand ‘accidentally’ grazed the side of her breast. The smug smirk on his face from having touched her through the fine fabric of her dress was enough to make Fleur want to curse him on the spot, but she held herself back. Doing something so open and brazen was more than likely going to lead from a long-lasting scolding from Madame Maxime and it could possibly strain French-English relations further given her father’s position in the French Ministry.

But even if she couldn’t be open about her retaliation didn’t mean that there wasn’t going to be any to be had. After all, it wasn’t like Roger would be the first man to lose himself to the passive allure of a Veela during a passionate moment.

Smiling like she didn’t want to crush him like the insect he was, Fleur moved tantalisingly closer towards Roger until her mouth was inches from his. His breath hitched and he closed his eyes in anticipation for what was to come.

Instead, Fleur hit him with a full blast of her concentrated allure.

Roger’s entire body suddenly stiffened up and drool started to pour out of his puckered lips. A strangled moan left him then, and Fleur was pleased to see a tiny wet spot forming on the front of his trousers.

Apparently, Roger’s moan was enough to attract the attention of a few nearby students because there was suddenly a burst of snickering at his predicament.

Humiliation replaced the feelings of pleasure from his orgasm, and Roger barely excused himself before he ran out the door to find the nearest bathroom.

Fleur didn’t laugh along with the other students—doing so wouldn’t reflect well on her—and she noticed someone else who wasn’t laughing either: Harry Potter.

The young man who’d been entered into this tournament against his will, allegedly, looked pained as he sat alongside his date: Parvati Patil. The Indian girl was quite pretty, Fleur had to admit, but she seemed much more interested in making sure her friends saw that she was with Harry at the champion’s table rather than on having a good time with her date. Harry was looking quite glum, and even Roger’s embarrassing moment wasn’t enough to lift his spirits.

Despite the poor start to the night, Fleur wasn’t going to let one pathetic man ruin her evening. This was her final school year, and she was going to dance at this ball. She could see dozens of eyes on her, all focused on her alluring body, but there was only one set that passed over her without lingering on her assets.

Fleur just hoped he was a competent dancer.

“Excusez-moi de vous déranger,” Fleur smiled lightly as she approached Harry and Parvati. Almost immediately, Parvati straightened her back and narrowed her eyes at Fleur. It was a normal response from teenage girls given their penchant for insecurities and jealousy, so Fleur wasn’t offended. Harry’s gaze immediately fell upon her face rather than her body—as positive a sign as any Fleur had seen thus far from the male population of Hogwarts. “It appears as though my date had to leave suddenly. I was wondering if I could impose and dance with you for a song or two instead?”

Fleur directed her question directly at Harry, clearly rankling Parvati. However, he didn’t seem to be paying much attention to his date’s reaction. Instead, he just grimaced. “I’m not sure if I’m the greatest person to dance with. I’m not very good—”

Parvati interrupted by grabbing Harry’s arm and holding it possessively against her chest. Harry’s face turned a deep red at the intimate position. “You’re a great dancer, Harry,” Parvati insisted, laying it on thick. She was clearly staking her claim on her date despite not seeming too interested in him only moments ago. “In fact, I think we should go dance right now.”

“But . . .” Harry trailed off, looking back at Fleur even as Parvati was tugging him over to the dance floor.

Fleur just shrugged at him and took her seat. If she couldn’t dance with Harry now then she may as well get some energy to try again later. She summoned a few small snacks for herself and turned away everyone who came up to ask her for a dance. Every single one of them seemed taken by her body or her allure in a way that Harry wasn’t, and all of this attention only left Fleur more and more interested in Harry.

Parvati made a show of dancing closely with Harry and regularly looking back at Fleur to see if she was watching them. Fleur was, but she wasn’t being so obvious about it that Parvati managed to catch on. Fleur just bided her time easily, waiting for her moment to strike.

It happened after the second time that Parvati had pulled Harry off to go grab a drink. She left his side for a moment, and that was when Fleur struck.

“Hello again,” Fleur said from behind Harry, making him jump in surprise.

“Fleur, I mean, Miss Delacour, hi,” Harry replied nervously.

He was so amusing when he was acting shy. “Fleur is fine,” she insisted. “I see that your date has left you too.”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “She went to the washroom.”

“Perhaps you’d care for a dance in the meantime?” Fleur suggested, casually leaving her arm available for Harry to take hold of if he was bold enough.

Harry looked between the dance floor and Fleur. “I suppose . . .”

“That doesn’t make a girl think you’re very interested in her,” Fleur teased him.

“I am,” Harry replied quickly, but then his face flushed as he realised what he had just said. “I mean, I’m not, but—”

“You’re not?” Fleur gave an exaggerated gasp.

Harry looked panicked for a second but then he narrowed his eyes at her. “Are you having me on?”

“Me?” Fleur delicately laid a hand over her heart. “I’m insulted by the suggestion.”

Harry didn’t fall for her tricks this time, and Fleur cracked a tiny grin to let him know she was still just joking around. Rather than get annoyed or shy though, he seemed to find the courage she so desperately wished he had from the start. “Then let me offer you an apology in the form of a dance,” he said, offering her his hand.

Fleur giggled and placed her hand in his. “Very smooth.”

“Thanks,” Harry smiled. “But it’s about all the confidence I could muster tonight.”

Fleur hummed. “We’ll see about that.”

That first dance with Harry was like dancing with her sister. Fleur ended up leading the dance when Harry’s memory failed him, but she didn’t mind in the slightest. It was fun, albeit less ball-like than she’d hoped for. The Yule Ball was an incredibly romantic setting, but this dance was anything but. Fleur guided him through the steps, and when the song ended, she expected him to return back to his angry date who was tapping her foot impatiently on the side of the dance floor. Instead, Harry insisted on dancing with her through the next song with him leading this time.

Seeing his confidence and interest surge, Fleur agreed. They shifted their position so that Harry was leading her around the dance floor. He made mistakes, several in fact, but he only stepped on her toes twice, which was an improvement compared to Roger. He apologised profusely each time and promised to do better. By the end of the song, he was doing better, and that was when he asked for another.

Song after song passed until the two of them were moving perfectly in sync along the dance floor. They only did the same two sequences of movements, but they were fun and it felt nice for Fleur to not be ogled the entire time. Harry seemed almost desperate to prove himself as a competent dancer, and he did a fine job as one. Eventually, Parvati realised that Harry and Fleur weren’t going to part anytime soon and she left. Fleur felt a little bad for the girl, but the earlier stunts she pulled left Fleur fine with the outcome.

Their dancing slowed down after a while and Fleur suggested that they go outside for a breath of fresh air. The cool December air was crisp and left Fleur covered in gooseflesh, but then Harry muttered something, and Fleur felt a warmth fill her.

“Warming charm,” Harry explained as he stowed his wand back in his pocket.

“Thank you,” Fleur replied kindly. “But don’t you need one as well?”

“I’m used to the cold,” Harry shrugged.

“That’s no reason not to stay warm,” Fleur frowned. “Here.”

She pressed herself against Harry’s side, ignoring his nervous stammering as she placed his arm around her waist. She figured he wasn’t the most experienced with women so she held his hand there until he finally grabbed her waist himself.

“Better?” Fleur asked, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Better,” Harry agreed, finally losing his awkwardness again.

Harry grew more confident with Fleur at his side as they walked around the courtyard and talked about anything and everything that came to mind from school to their hobbies to the absolutely dismal performance that the English and French national teams put up at the Quidditch World Cup.

It felt easy talking to Harry despite the fact that he was nearly three years younger than her. Other than his shyness, he actually came across as quite mature and clever when he spoke. He wasn’t quite the fame-crazed boy she’d been led to believe he was—though she’d already realised as much from the several months she’d spent at Hogwarts. In fact, the more they talked, the more Fleur was convinced that he actually despised his fame.

After nearly half an hour of mindless roaming, the two of them ended up in an isolated, small garden, perfectly preserved against the elements. The scene was backlit by the pale moon above, and the soft sound of music carried from the Great Hall out to the garden too. The ball was bound to end soon, Fleur knew, but she wished it didn’t have to.

“I’ve had a wonderful time tonight, Harry,” Fleur murmured as they came to a stop near a stone bench.

Harry pulled out his wand and blasted away the snow from the bench and helped Fleur sit down on it before he sat down himself. “So have I,” he said. “But I feel a bit bad about Parvati.”

“Don’t,” Fleur replied. “She was only with you for your status.”

“How do you know that?”

“I’m a Veela; I’ve seen it happen before.”

“Ah, right,” Harry grimaced. “Well, at least I got to dance with you. You were wonderful, and thank you again for helping me work on my dancing.”

“You would’ve gotten it without my help,” Fleur argued. “You’re quite the quick study.”

Harry’s cheeks reddened a bit and he glanced off towards the distant hills. “It helps when I’ve got a great teacher.”

“Do you know what I’ve enjoyed so much about tonight, Harry?” Fleur asked, drawing his attention back to her. “You never leered at me a single time, or commented on my looks.”

“Err, don’t girls like it when guys do that?” Harry asked before quickly adding, “the second part, I mean.”

“Yes, they do,” Fleur laughed. “But only when a man genuinely means it. It’s hard with Veela; we get so many men after us, but few actually care about us.”

“Well, those guys are idiots,” Harry muttered.

Fleur laughed again. “That they are.”

She could see that he was working up the courage to say something, so she let silence fill the garden as she waited patiently. After several moments, Harry’s head snapped towards her.

“You are very beautiful, you know,” Harry told Fleur sincerely. “And it’s not just because you’re a Veela. I mean, you’re physically beautiful too, but you’re also a beautiful person. I’m not sure that I’m explaining myself right, but—”

“You’re doing wonderfully,” Fleur assured him. She slid a bit closer on the bench until their hips were touching. “And I think that you’re a beautiful person too, in both senses.”

“Oh.” Harry almost seemed surprised at that. Did he really think that she would have spent the entire evening with him if she didn’t find him the least bit attractive in one way or another? “Well, thank you.”

Fleur tried not to giggle at the awkward way he took her compliment. “You know, I think there’s a better way you could thank me.”

It only took that little bit of prodding for Harry to realise the romantic situation they were in out here, alone, under the moon with soft music played in the background. Fleur puckered her lips ever so slightly, and Harry’s eyes were immediately drawn to them. He instinctively leaned in closer to Fleur and then paused as though she was looking for her approval. Fleur just finished puckering her lips, closed her eyes, and waited.

The moment Harry kissed her, it was like an electrifying explosion went off in her brain. All of her senses fired in full force as their lips interlocked and Fleur felt her first real kiss. She’d kissed and been kissed before, but none of those experiences came anywhere close to what she felt just now. Their lips were only together for a few seconds, but Fleur would never forget the feeling of Harry’s soft lips and the sweet smile on his face when they broke apart.

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Work at Gringotts passed slowly, and Fleur spent every second thinking about Harry and the way her life turned out. They dated for a while after the Yule Ball. Given Harry’s celebrity status and Fleur’s concerns over people wondering if she bewitched him so that she could potentially win the Triwizard Tournament, they kept their relationship a secret from everyone. She still remembered how she almost gave everything away when she kissed him after he rescued her sister from the Black Lake, but thankfully she was able to play it off as a very passionate thank you.

At the end of the school year, Fleur had reluctantly decided to end the relationship. She’d be back in France soon and neither of them had the means to support Fleur moving to England. Beyond that, the obvious age gap was a slight issue as Fleur was soon going to be an adult and Harry would be stuck in school for a few more years. It hadn’t been an easy decision, but Harry recognised that it wasn’t realistic to expect either of them to wait three or more years for each other.

That summer had been the worst summer of Fleur’s life. She cried for days and very nearly ended up trying to sneak into England just to see Harry, but then her mum took Fleur on a private vacation to help her relax and then got her a job at Gringotts where she could earn a living. Time turned the raw wound into a scar, but Fleur moved on, secretly wondering if she’d ever be reunited with Harry one day.

Then Bill came along. This handsome Curse-Breaker had been the first man to make her feel anything since she broke up with Harry. It had been a whirlwind romance of them falling for each other. Fleur hadn’t realised that he was Harry’s best friend’s older brother until she met his family and recognised Ron, but it had been too late by that point to break things off with Bill. Fleur simply accepted the fact that she might see Harry again, but she felt determined to stay with Bill.

When their relationship began to have troubles, Fleur wrote it off as a normal part of every relationship. Bill was gone on jobs for months at a time, and what little free time he had back at home started to be spent on Order work rather than with Fleur. She felt abandoned and neglected. Bill promised to make it up to her every time he came home and he even moved them into the Burrow with the promise that they’d be able to finally live together. That had lasted a day before he received an emergency assignment that simply couldn’t wait. Then, he was gone again, and Fleur had no idea when he was going to return.

Fleur cracked open the top drawer of her desk and glanced at the small velvet box inside. It sat closed, still unopened since Bill had proposed to her. He claimed it was a romantic gesture that showed just how devoted he was to her. To Fleur, he had done it as a way to lessen her anger when he told her that he was leaving again on this silly mission. She told him she needed time to think about it, and he told her that he could wait until he came back from this mysterious job.

She asked herself again why she hadn’t left Bill yet. Her sister had asked her the same thing many times over the last year. Fleur had been with Bill for just over two years now, and she could honestly say that the only truly blissful time she had had with him had been during the first two months that they were together. Ever since then, Bill had constantly been leaving and only returning for a couple days at a time.

Fleur’s fingers found the sealed envelope she had kept right beneath the engagement ring box. It was the latest draft of her breakup letter. She rather breakup with him in person, but he was never home during the right times for it.

She tucked the letter inside of her robes and slammed the drawer closed.

It was late at night when Fleur finally managed to return to the Burrow. The sky was dark and the Burrow was silent. Molly and Arthur always went to sleep early. Ginny and Ron could sometimes be found awake, but it seemed like they had both retired early too. She felt her heart sink when she didn’t see Harry in the dark kitchen; a part of her hoped that he’d wait up for her.

There was so much she wanted to tell him. So many feelings she wanted to get off her chest. Life around the Burrow was miserable, and Bill abandoning her here and only showing up for a couple of days before he left again was making her feel like she’d made a big mistake ever leaving Harry.

If there was one thing Fleur would never do, it was cheating on her partner. The rumours about Veela being promiscuous weren’t entirely wrong—after all, there were plenty of Veela who enjoyed watching men make fools of themselves and leading them on only to crush their hearts—but Fleur wasn’t like that. Ever since she was little, she wanted to find a single man who she could be happy with and, eventually, marry. She’d thought Bill could be that for her, but she was wrong.

Maybe she could still have a chance with Harry.

Pigwidgeon, Ron’s owl, was quietly sitting on his perch just inside the kitchen window. Fleur pulled the envelope from within her robes and held it carefully in her hands. If she sent this off now, things would be done and over with. Bill would read it and then Fleur would be free. She’d have to leave the Burrow, but she had enough gold saved up to pay for most of a year’s worth of rent. It would be enough, she hoped.

Once she realised what she was doing, Fleur knew that she was making the right decision. Seeing Harry today had shaken her into action. She didn’t know what the future held for her or her relationship with Harry, but she knew that her future wasn’t going to be with Bill.

Fleur carefully tied the letter around Pigwidgeon’s leg. “Bring this to William, okay?” She whispered to the owl. Her fingers found the window and she slowly started to open it.

“Fleur?”

She froze in place, not daring to look behind her. “Harry,” she replied back evenly.

“What are you doing?” He asked casually as he strolled into the room. He flicked his wand and a candle illuminated, breaking through the darkness.

Fleur pulled her fingers away from the window. What was she supposed to say to him? This was the first time they’d actually spoken in person since she broke up with him, and the letters they’d sent each other had been tight and curt. Surely he knew about her relationship with Bill by now, but he had no way of knowing the troubles they’d had together. How was she meant to explain this to him?

“I was just sending a letter,” Fleur answered as neutrally as possible, trying not to give away any emotion in her tone. She turned around to see that Harry had sat down at the kitchen table and was watching her. He was in his pyjamas, a similar set to the ones Fleur had received as a birthday gift from Molly and Arthur last Christmas. They felt much too warm and restrictive for her to wear, but they fit Harry nicely.

“To your sister?” Harry asked.

Fleur gave the slightest shake of her head.

A look crossed Harry’s face, but he disguised it quickly. Still, Fleur knew that Harry understood who the letter was intended for. He stood up from his seat abruptly. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt,” he  said brusquely. “I’ll just leave you to it then.”

“No!” Fleur exclaimed. She lunged forward and grabbed Harry’s wrist from across the table. He stilled awkwardly, not quite looking back at her but not looking away either. He was waiting, waiting for her to say something, but no words came to her lips. She stood there, floundering, knowing that there had to be some right combination of words that could explain everything perfectly, but finding nothing but clumsy phrases and confused sentiments.

“I need to get to bed,” Harry muttered after several moments passed.

She was losing him. When did Fleur suddenly lose the ability to communicate effectively? It was one of her biggest problems with Bill where she couldn’t make her displeasure clear enough for him to understand, and then it was when she was looking for a cure for their relationship and finding nothing that could satisfy both of them. There was so much that her heart wanted to scream but her brain couldn’t process it into words.

Was she bound to spend another night in the dark of her room at the Burrow staring up at the ceiling and wondering if tomorrow was going to be any better?

No, she wasn’t going to relegate herself to a pitiful existence like this. Maybe Harry’s arrival had been the spark she needed to enact this change, but she was going to do it for herself and herself alone.

“I don’t love Bill anymore,” Fleur blurted out. She heard Harry’s half-hidden gasp and continued. “I haven’t for a long time now, but I was scared to end things.”

“Unlike you were with me,” Harry retorted with such pain and bitterness that Fleur couldn’t help but wonder if he’d dreamed of saying these words to her ever since she broke up with him.

“It hurt more than you know,” Fleur murmured.

Harry’s wrist trembled in her hand but his voice was even. “Why are you telling me this?”

Because she wanted a chance with him.

“I—”

Fleur’s voice faltered as the fireplace illuminated for the second time that day. There was a rush of flame and then Bill appeared with a big grin on his face as he dusted off his shoulders. His eyes scanned the kitchen and settled on Fleur; it was like he didn’t even notice that Harry was there.

Fleur felt like she was about to vomit as the room spun around her. She let go of Harry’s wrist like it was burning her hand. Before she could say or do anything, Bill swept up to her and planted a searing-hot kiss on her lips. Fleur didn’t know what to do; she just froze up as Bill wrapped her tightly in his embrace and kissed her with all the passion he managed to save up since he left.

Faintly, Fleur heard Harry’s footfalls as he left the kitchen.

“I missed you so much,” Bill murmured as he buried his face in her hair and breathed her in.

“Uh huh,” Fleur managed to get out, but her eyes were searching for Harry. She just managed to catch a glimpse of his leg as he started back up the stairs to bed.

“Come on,” Bill whispered in her ear. “Let’s go to bed. I’ve missed my blushing bride-to-be.”

The world swam around Fleur, and suddenly she was staring up at the ceiling as Bill shouted her name and everything darkened around her.

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It was still dark outside when Fleur awoke, but the room around her was aglow with candlelight.

“She’s waking up,” someone said.

Several blurry shapes formed above her face. Fleur blinked rapidly to clear away the tears that had formed and then saw Bill and Molly’s faces come into view. Bill had a terribly worried look on his face, but Molly seemed strangely pleased.

Bill opened his mouth to speak but Molly beat him to the punch. “Why didn’t you tell me that you got engaged, dear?” She exclaimed jubilantly. “This calls for a celebration. I’ll round up the whole family for a nice dinner!”

“Yes, congratulations to both of you,” Arthur said from his seat at the opposite end of the room.

Fleur grimaced as she tried to sit up. Everything still felt a little off, and she was still feeling that same nausea and dizziness that had come over her earlier. Bill was right there, placing his hands on her back to help her sit up. Fleur accepted his help for now as she straightened herself on the sofa in the Burrow’s living room.

“You gave us quite the fright,” Arthur said as Fleur started to get her bearings.

Ginny snorted. “Some of us anyway,” she muttered, but her petulance was shut down by Bill’s fierce look.

“Are you alright?” Bill asked concernedly.

“I’m fine,” Fleur lied. She rubbed at her forehead, feeling a headache coming on.

“She was so overjoyed to see you come home that she fainted,” Molly swooned. “I always knew she was the right one for you.”

Sure she did. That was why she tried to talk Bill out of dating a silly French tart way back when they first got together. Fleur opened her mouth to say exactly that, but another wave of nausea left her groaning instead.

“You took a hard blow to the head,” Bill said as he wrapped an arm around her waist. “We should get you up to bed so you can rest.”

“Where’s Harry?” Fleur managed to get out.

“He and Ron ran out to pick up some potions from Headquarters that you might need,” Arthur explained.

Merlin, what did Harry think of her now? Everything was going so wrong.

“Do you want me to carry you upstairs?” Bill asked Fleur gently.

As much as she wanted to say, she didn’t want Bill’s hands on her right now. “No, I’ll manage,” Fleur answered. She forced herself to stand up and walk over towards the staircase. Bill was hovering around her like a concerned boyfriend should. Fleur hated it.

The climb upstairs was painful as her head continued to throb maddeningly. “Are you sure you’re alright?” Bill asked when she paused outside the bathroom on the second floor.

“I’m fine!” Fleur snapped. Suddenly, a wave of nausea overtook her and she dashed into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her as she went.

She didn’t even manage to reach the toilet before she started throwing up the half-digested meal she had in her stomach. She vomited all across the tile floor and in the shower until the cramps in her stomach subsided.

Fleur was trembling as she turned on the faucet and drank straight from it. She washed the acidic taste of bile from her mouth and spat out anything that was left clinging to her teeth before she turned the tap off and opened the door.

Bill was standing there looking so damned worried for her. His gaze landed on her vomit. “I’ll clean it up,” he assured her, already pulling out his wand to help.

Under normal circumstances, Fleur would have been embarrassed to have Bill cleaning up after her like this, but she just didn’t seem to be able to muster up such feelings tonight. Without another word, she continued her ascent upstairs until she found her room. She didn’t even take off her work robes as she fell forward into bed and shut her eyes.

Sometime later, she heard Bill enter the bedroom. She hadn’t been able to fall asleep yet but she pretended like she was. He whispered her name a couple of times before deciding it was a lost cause. There was a faint clinking sound as he set a few vials of potions down on his bedside table. The bed shook as he climbed in and got himself under the sheets with her.

Once upon a time, the feeling of his strong chest against her back had been comforting. Now, it just made Fleur want to be sick again. She held it in until she felt his breathing settle and the sound of his soft snoring filled the room. Then, Fleur slipped out of bed. She snatched the three potions off of the bedside table and downed them without even checking to see what they were.

The trek back downstairs was easier than it was going upstairs. She avoided all of the creaky steps as she reached the living room and laid back down on the sofa, curling into a tiny ball as she drifted off to sleep, dreaming of a green-eyed man.