"Harry Potter" belongs to J.K. Rowling

AN: I want to extend my thanks to the great members of my Discord server, who have helped me with the writing of the chapter itself, but also re-igniting my passion for this.

Special thanks go to Meneldur, who has not only aided me with the crafting and editing of this chapter, but also the story as a whole.

With that out of the way, please enjoy the chapter!

"Dialogue"

'Thoughts'

"Foreign Language"

A Godfather's Promise

Chapter XIX: Day of Recovery

Harry only saw blurs when he opened his eyes, but he already knew where he was. It was the smell: the unbearable stench of a room that had been cleaned too much. 'Madam Pomfrey gets to attend her favorite patient once again.' The sun's light seeping through the windows became recognizable, and everything was as Harry knew from the countless other times he'd woken up in the Hospital. Everything, with the exception of the warm feeling at his side.

Smiling hurt, but he still did it. The smell of fresh summer flowers overpowered the insipid stench. When his sight finally adjusted, Harry saw Fleur holding his arm. She was wearing a hospital gown, yet Harry could only wonder why: the scars that had marred her before were completely gone, and her grip was as tight as it had always been. Fleur looked no different today than she had any other morning.

His muscles protested when he returned the embrace. When he had seen Voldemort rise, Harry thought he'd never be able to see her again, never hold her in his arms… yet she was safe. Despite everything, she was safe.

"'Arry?" whispered Fleur as she woke up.

Harry kissed the top of her head. "I'm here."

"'Ow do you feel?"

Harry chuckled. "I'm good. It's far from the first time I've been in the hospital wing. How about you?"

Fleur winced as she moved. "Getting better." Harry saw the silhouette of a person behind the curtain just as they were swiftly opened. The woman was just as familiar as the Hospital Wing.

"Ms. Delacour! What are you doing out of your bed?!" chastised Madam Pomfrey. "A witch that has been exposed to the Cruciatus Curse to the same extent as you should not be moving around as she sees fit!"

Fleur smirked. "Vairy well. I will not move any more zen." She tightened her hold on him. "I will stay right 'ere."

Harry's eyes widened and he turned his gaze to meet Fleur's. "They cast the Cruciatus Curse on you?" Fleur tightened her jaw and hid her face on his chest. Harry's boiling blood was only cooled by Fleur's embrace. He trailed his fingers across her long silver tresses. 'They hurt her… they hurt her to get to me…'

Madam Pomfrey huffed and ran several diagnostic spells through both of them. "Back in my wing again, Mr. Potter. Good to have you back. How are you feeling?"

"Tired, but fine otherwise."

She nodded and continued to mutter to herself while waving her wand. Harry heard footsteps approaching. Several shadows gathered behind the curtain. When it was pushed aside, Harry met the grinning face of his godfather, Remus at one side and Dora in the other.

"Harry!" exclaimed Sirius, struggling to keep a grin that was once second nature. "Doing well? Gave us a bit of a scare there, but you recover even faster than James after Quidditch."

Harry looked at Sirius. "He's back, Sirius. Voldemort's back," Pomfrey twitched at the mention of the name, and even Remus and Dora stiffened, "I saw him come back… fought him… I saw my parents."

Sirius' breath hitched. "J-James? James and Lily?" Harry nodded. "H-How?"

"Some… magic. They helped me escape. Had it not been for them, I would have died. Voldemort… he was so strong. Stronger than anything I thought possible."

"Did… did they tell you anything?"

Harry looked down with a small smile. "Dad told me that you should stop being so miserable." Sirius' chuckle was almost a whisper, audible with each breath, until it turned into full-blown laughter. His blue eyes looked away; they shined in the light.

"What happened there?" asked Dora. She walked to the side that was not occupied by Fleur and gave him a careful hug.

Remus nodded. "We saw the professors come back with the champions. Cedric was the only one conscious. He told us that you and him were trying to signal the professors but we never saw sparks. Next thing we know you appear in the middle of the field. You almost killed Wormtail."

Harry looked at the ground again. "We had it all wrong from the beginning. We thought that they wanted to kill me… their goal was the opposite. All this Tournament, everything, was a charade from the very beginning. The intention was not to make me lose – it was to make sure I was the victor. The cup was a portkey that took me to them. They took my blood and revived Voldemort."

"Stop saying his name!" urged Madam Pomfrey.

"His name must be said without fear, for if we cannot face the name, we cannot face the Dark Lord." Dumbledore stepped slowly into view, under the usual twinkling eyes were dark bags.

Madam Pomfrey shivered. "Are you s-sure he is back, Albus? Mr. Potter may have been imagining things. He was exhausted, magically and physically. I-It may have been a Boggart! Yes! A Boggart! Cornelius Fudge told us that it is impossible for h-him to return!"

Harry grit his teeth. He was not imagining things… but denial was a way for some people to deal with reality, even if for a few blessed moments. Voldemort still struck fear into everyone that was alive before the Dark Lord's first fall. Even the mere memory was enough that mere children trembled around the name.

"Alas, the Minister does not wish to cause a panic among everyone. I will be talking to him today. That reminds me – Sirius, Remus." Both men nodded and followed the Professor out of the Hall.

"I will talk to you later, Harry," said Sirius as he was leaving. "Rest. You are safe now." Harry nodded. He was safe… for the moment.

"Harry! Are you alright?" a brown-haired missile exclaimed. He was soon enveloped by a familiar bone-crushing hug. How did a girl that spent most of her waking moments with a book shoved in her face have this much strength?

"Hey, 'Mione," he groaned but still let his lips curl upward. "I'm alright. I was going to give up against Voldemort, but I figured you'd kill me if I did."

Hermione punched his arm lightly. "Don't joke about it!" She barely managed to stifle a chuckle. She looked around at the audience and her cheeks turned red. "Tonks! What are you doing here?"

Dora laughed. "Here to check up on you lot. Look at this mess! One year without me and all goes to hell."

Trailing behind Hermione, a new figure came to view. "Cedric," Harry greeted and Cedric greeted back. "What happened after I was gone?"

"The Professors came soon after you sent the Patronus. Told me that they didn't see the sparks we sent earlier. They asked me so many questions that I could barely respond to any of them. Fleur and Krum were sent straight to Madam Pomfrey. They figured pretty quickly that Fleur had been hit with the Cruciatus Curse – Krum with the Imperious Curse." He nodded to the other side of the infirmary, where Viktor Krum still lay sleeping, his girlfriend holding his hand. "Guess I'm the lucky one, not ending up on the hospital bed."

Harry nodded. "Thanks for looking out for us."

Cedric's mouth pursed into a thin line. "Is it really true? About… You-Know-Who?" Harry nodded. "That's… not good. That's not good at all."

A pit formed in Harry's stomach again. Voldemort was back. No matter how much he really thought of it, the realization came in bursts, each one forming a dreadful picture that he always knew would come, yet still hoped against hope that it never would.

"R-Regardless," stuttered Cedric with a half-hearted attempt at a smile. "If you need anything, I'm there to help."

More footsteps could be heard coming inside. Red hair, yet it was not Ron's, who would usually be the first one to greet him, along with Hermione, every previous time he woke up in the hospital. It was darker in color, and fixed to a nervous face.

"Susan?" The Hufflepuff jumped and gasped. It was clear that she had still been debating if she should approach or not. "It's always nice to see you," assured Harry. There was another, taller figure behind Susan. "And you as well, Daphne."

The Slytherin huffed. "I told Susan that you would be alright. You always are, but she was so worried that I finally told her to come and see herself."

Susan turned as red as her hair. "I-I… I'm happy to see you are alright, Harry." The sweetness in her voice never failed to make Harry smile. Much better than seeing Ron right now.

"Thanks for coming, but you shouldn't worry about me." He smirked specifically at Daphne. "Still, it's nice to know that you care."

Daphne huffed again. "Don't flatter yourself, Potter." Her expression softened just a bit. "I am pleased to see that you are well. You make for an excellent Malfoy repellent."

More footsteps came from the hall, but this time the feet were skipping. Platinum blonde hair came from the darkness beyond with an equally bright dreamy smile. "You're awake," noted Luna.

"Nice to see you, Luna," greeted Harry.

"Merlin, Harry. You've become quite popular with the girls, haven't you? The brilliant Gryffindor, the cold Slytherin, the shy Hufflepuff, and the witty Ravenclaw." joked Dora with a smirk. "And, of course, the pretty French girl. You never told me about your girlfriend collection." Hermione, Susan, and even Daphne went red and all began to sputter denials while Dora laughed.

Luna looked confused. "There's nothing to be ashamed of. If you want to be Harry's girlfriend, I'm sure Fleur will allow it." At that point, even Dora stopped laughing and coughed.

"Alright, visiting time is over for today," declared Madam Pomfrey with a tone that ended any discussion before it started. "Mr. Potter and Ms. Delacour need their rest."

All of the visitors said their goodbyes with promises that they would come and visit tomorrow, with the exception of Dora.

"I'm going back with my mum. See you back home!"

Luna was the last to leave, giving both him and Fleur a kiss. "I'll see you tomorrow, Master," she whispered and skipped out of the hospital wing, the door shutting down by itself behind her.

Harry saw the lights dim and realized just how tired he was. His muscles relaxed around Fleur's embrace. She was already fast asleep, not making a sound, and yet her chest rising and falling let him know that she was safe and sound.

Even with Fleur at his side, Harry closed his eyes to a restless sleep.

When the green flames were snuffed and Sirius could see the sight before him clearly, he was hit by a sight so different from what he'd seen the last time, yet at the same time, so eerily familiar. Sirius tried to remember the last time he'd been at the Ministry. It had been just a few days after James' death. He'd been to sign some papers for Harry's adoption.

Back then, the Ministry's building was worn, with unclean floors and drab colors. Barely lit hallways always looked like they were about to collapse and the windows that were not broken were so dusty that nobody could see what was on the other side. Despite that, people were smiling. The news of the Dark Lord's demise had lit something inside the people that shone through the dullness of the Ministry.

Now, the floors were made of rich wood, with not a scratch marring it. No matter where Sirius looked, the color of gold was present: in statues, in the gates, in the door handles. The ceiling was painted a beautiful peacock blue, and the light made Sirius think he might be actually looking at the sky. Yet, all around him, he saw people talking with hushed whispers, their eyes filled with a terror that they had long since buried. Buried, but never forgotten.

"…tell them it's not true! It's all a rumor!" came Fudge's voice from the other side of the door. Sirius had never heard the man talk with such panic. In other circumstances, it would have been amusing.

Dumbledore closed his eyes. "I will do the talking." Sirius nodded along with Remus and Dumbledore opened the door. Fudge looked like he'd aged twenty years in a single day. Dark bags were beneath dry eyes, and his face shone with sweat. A mountain of letters was thrown haphazardly over his desk and six quills were writing the exact same words rapidly. Fudge himself was beside the chimney, talking to the green fire.

"Peter Pettigrew and Walden Macnair were both old followers of You-Know-Who. They were two mad fools, blinded by vengeance and tried to kill Harry Potter. You tell them that, Barnabas!" The green flame reduced to emerald embers. "Albus! What is it you want? I am quite busy at the moment. It's not enough that I have the public breathing down my neck, I also have to deal with the Bulgarians and France! Merlin, Mr. Delacour is coming tomorrow."

"It is quite unfortunate, but entirely understandable – his daughter was subjected to the Cruciatus Curse. Answers are expected. Especially now that the Dark Lord has returned."

Fudge slammed his hand on the desk. "He is not back!" he snapped, voice more panicked than angry. "For Merlin's sake, Albus. Don't tell me you actually believe this nonsense?"

Sirius stepped forward. "Harry does not lie." The Minister opened his mouth to retort but there was a knock on his door. From the other side emerged a young man with a familiar shade of red hair.

"The Wizengamot has been assembled, Minister." It was one of the Weasleys. No doubt about it, not with that shade of red. Sirius wracked his brain to recall which one it was.

Fudge let out a loud sigh. "Very well." He put on his hat and tidied himself as much as he could. "Forgive me, Albus. Another day, perhaps?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "If I remember correctly, as Chief Warlock, I am allowed to attend these meetings. I must not have received the message regarding this meeting."

The Minister glowered but said nothing as he stormed out of his office. They followed soon after. In the hallway was Alastor Moody. With a nod and a grunt, the grizzled Auror limped after them, his eye darting in all directions.

Despite what the Weasley boy had said, barely half of the Wizengamot's seats were filled, most of them were the ones on the left: The Protectorate Party. Sirius caught Avery, Nott, and Malfoy among them. The center was taken by the largest party, Wela, yet Lord Greengrass was nowhere to be seen. On the left there were only a handful members of the Renewal Party. The only prominent ones were Amelia Bones, Kinglsey Shacklebolt and Augusta Longbottom were not in sight. The Weasley boy took his side next to Fudge, notes at the ready.

A man whom Sirius recognized as Ian Davis stood as speaker. "The session is in motion. Madam Bones?"

Amelia Bones immediately rose from her seat. "Thank you, Mr. Speaker. For all those who have not been informed of the situation, we are gathered here for the reported return of the Dark Lord."

"Alleged return," interrupted Fudge.

Amelia did not acknowledge the Minister. "The information has come after Mr. Harry Potter returned from the final task of the Triwizard Tournament. The reports made by Mr. Albus Dumbledore mention that the Cup was tampered with and Mr. Potter's blood was used in a ritual to revive the Dark Lord."

Fudge shook his head. "For Merlin's sake, you cannot possibly believe that he is back, can you? The Dark Lord is dead!"

"Order!" exclaimed Ian Davis and then nodded again towards Amelia.

Amelia continued. "Mr. Potter came back with a captured Peter Pettigrew and declared that the Dark Lord had returned. Mr. Pettigrew, a Death Eater, has been examined and confirmed that the Dark Mark is active once again. Mr. Potter mentioned in his statement that the events of the Tournament were manipulated to get him to win. Those accused of orchestrating the events are named so: Mr. Lucius Malfoy, Mr. Malcolm Nott, Mr. Francis Go –"

"May Morgana's wisdom preserve us if we're taking the statements of a magically exhausted, delusional fourth-year student as fact!" retorted Fudge, red faced and with gnashing teeth. "Are we truly going to draw conclusions from the statements of Mr. Potter, who moments later collapsed due to magical exhaustion?!"

"Order!" reprimanded Ian Davis once again.

Amelia gave a stern look to the minister and grabbed another parchment. "An additional statement comes from Ms. Fleur Delacour, who was attacked by Walden Macnair, a Death Eater–"

"Under the influence of the Imperius Curse," drawled Malfoy.

"I will suspend the speaking rights of the next person who interrupts without permission!" Ian Davis shouted at the hall again. "Respect your fellow members!"

"– Ms. Delacour suffered prolonged exposure to the Cruciatus Curse. Her description of Mr. Macnair is nothing like that one would expect from someone under the Imperius Curse. In her statement, she mentions –"

A giggle that sounded like nails on a chalkboard rang through the hall. A toad-like woman dressed in pink then stood up. "Pardon my interruption," her voice was even worse than her laugh, "I have been informed that Ms. Delacour happens to be French, no?"

Amelia frowned. "I don't see how that changes her statement."

"Yes… well, I was under the belief that we do not readily take the words of foreigners to be fact. Ms. Delacour… her name rings another bell… oh, that's right! She is known to be romantically connected to Mr. Potter. Quite convenient, isn't it? Pardon me if I question the idea that a Veela might have ulterior motives."

"French or not – Veela or not, her statement matters," growled Amelia. Sirius could not blame her for getting angry. He could only imagine how furious Harry would be if he was here.

Nott stood up. "We won't take accusations from foreign half-breeds!" The Protectorate shouted ayes in agreement.

A member of Renewal stood up. "Then we won't take them from Death Eaters!" Ayes rang out again over the hall.

On either side of the benches, members of the Wizengamot stood up, hurling accusations and insults at each other. "Order! Order! Maintain order in the hall!" shouted Davis with gritted teeth. In front of him, the members of Wela sat still, looking bored.

The silence was brought not by his words, but by the echoes of footsteps, sounding heavier and heavier as they grew closer. Immediately, the back of every member of the Wizengamot went stiff. Fudge's face became filled with rivers of sweat, and his eyes were wide as saucers. Even Malfoy showed something that was not smarmy arrogance. In all of this, the members of the Wela were the only ones smirking.

The figure that emerged stood above everyone in the hall. Sirius remembered James being very tall, yet this man was even taller than his deceased friend. His hair was black, long, and straight, contrasting with his pale white skin. His eyes were the shade of indigo ice. All around him, people looked like they were willing to either run away in panic or drop to kiss his boots. One the chest of his purple robes was sewn the symbol of a hawk, mouth open and screeching, with talons ready to attack.

"L-Lord Greengrass!" squeaked Fudge

Sirius thought back to the last time he'd seen Cygnus Greengrass. The reaction to him was the opposite to what it was now. Back in their Hogwarts days, Greengrass was the object of ridicule that rivaled even Snape. "Knutless Greengrass" – the scion of the fallen family – a title that seemed ridiculous now. Nobody was foolish enough to remind Cygnus of those days.

Cygnus looked around the Wizengamot with cold eyes. "Minister," he greeted in a deep baritone. "Do forgive my tardiness, after all, the message must have been lost. As soon as our dear Speaker Davis told me of the session, I travelled here at my earliest convenience." While the words were respectful and seemingly neutral, there was an undercurrent of superiority in them – as though Cygnus would not have arrived at all were it not convenient for him to do so.

Fudge tugged the collar of his robes. "W-Well, I… I thought it best not to bother you with some wild and unfounded speculation, Lord Greengrass."

"On the contrary, Minister. I am quite fond of talking about speculation. It's what drives business, you see." Cygnus found his seat, seemingly larger and better polished than the rest of the seats, though they were all supposed to be identical. "And of course, there's no bigger change in speculation than the return of the Dark Lord. I must always be prepared, Minister. For even in times of chaos, money must always flow." He nodded towards Ian Davis. "Please continue, Mr. Speaker. I am certain the members of this august body will respect your demands for order… after all, if there is no order here, how could we hope to have it elsewhere in our world?"

Ian Davis looked at Amelia. "You may continue, Madam Bones."

"To conclude the report, Mr. Potter stated that the Triwizard Tournament was a ruse to bring back the Dark Lord. The events as described by both Ms. Delacour and Mr. Diggory do not coincide with behavior expected from a wizard acting under the Imperius, and Mr. Dumbledore currently has two Death Eaters in custody. Unfortunately, Mr. Macnair cannot give a statement now that he was prematurely kissed by a dementor." She shot a brief look at the Minister. "As of now, Mr. Pettigrew is being kept waiting to give a statement, under the protection of the esteemed Mr. Dumbledore. As of now, all of the evidence points to a return of the Dark Lord."

Grumblings erupted once again, but they were quickly silenced once Cygnus raised a lazy hand. "Madam Bones, what you tell us is indeed dire... if it is the truth. Yet you cannot expect us all to take actions based on the confessions of a ruffian and a traitor, both of whose mental states are unknown. Do you happen to have any other concrete evidence, aside from two perpetrators trying to kill a fourth-year student?"

Sirius stood up. "Three." All eyes were on him. "We have three perpetrators." They looked at him as if he had grown a second head, until the door to the Wizengamot flew open and in walked a figure, missing one leg and one eye.

Fudge's eyes widened, looking between the figure and Alastor Moody, for the newcomer's face was exactly the same. "W-What in Merlin's name?!"

Sirius and Remus acted lightning-fast. With their wands in their hands, they pointed at the Moody that had come with them before he even managed to recover from the shock. After he was stunned, Dumbledore conjured a seat at the center of the room, with manacles to secure him. Moody – the one that had just barged in – rushed up on his crutches to retrieve the eye, the wooden leg, and the wand.

"What is the meaning of this?!" demanded Fudge, the rest of the room was in uproar, all with unintelligible voices demanding the same answer as the Minister.

Dumbledore recovered with a twinkle in his eye. "A question I have been asking myself." He grabbed the flask at the fake Moody's side. "Polyjuice potion," he declared after a brief inspection

The real Moody snatched the flask from Dumbledore's hand, took a whiff of it, and spilled the contents on the floor. "Piss… fitting stench."

The members of the Wizengamot were at the edge of their seats. Lucius looked like he had swallowed dirt, while Cygnus looked at Moody's impostor, his incredibly still face, devoid of emotion, the only sign of his feelings. After a few minutes of silence, the bound figure began to change. Where once there had been a perfect replica of Alastor Moody, now sat a man of around thirty years of age, very familiar, though Sirius could not recall a name. Around him, the older members of the Wizengamot looked like they'd seen a ghost.

"B-Barty Crouch!" stuttered Fudge, as if trying to convince himself that the figure in front of him was real. "No… no… you're dead! In Azkaban! You died in Azkaban!"

Crouch, despite everything, grinned and giggled like a lunatic. Moody smacked Crouch's head and then forced three drops of Veritaserum down his throat. For the next hour, the Wizengamot was silent as Crouch revealed everything. From his escape from Azkaban, his imprisonment by his father, to his escape and making contact with Voldemort and Wormtail in Albania. Then the torture and murder of Bertha Jorkins, his interference during the Tournament, and the ritual to revive his Master. With every passing word, the faces around them turned ghostly white.

"It's a lie!" blurted Fudge, shaking from head to toe, and laughing nervously. "The man's lost his senses. He's been hidden in a house for more than a decade!"

"He's taken Veritaserum!" Augusta protested, clearly incensed.

Fudge's clothes were completely damp with sweat now. "The potion only makes a person tell their truth, not the truth. A madman will say mad things. That's what this all is… madness!" He pointed at Crouch. "G-Get this man to the Dementors! He deserves the Kiss!"

Amelia stood up from her seat. "We must interrogate him further."

Using all the slack the chains allowed, Crouch pulled on the sleeve of his robe. The Dark Mark was jet black and pulsating. Most of the spectators flinched at the sight, none more so than Fudge. Crouch let out a maniacal laugh "Our Lord is back… now all you blood traitors will get what you deserve! He's back! The Dark Lord is back!"

The Wizengamot erupted into a cacophony of voices. Ian Davis did not even try to calm them down this time, instead waking towards Cygnus Greengrass, crowding around him along with other members of the Wela Party.

If Cygnus had been perturbed by the news, he did not show it. He was an anchor of calm amidst a sea of chaos. After a few seconds of quiet, he began to whisper instructions to the circle that had assembled around him. With each passing word, the members of the Wela Party eased their panic. They all nodded together at the instructions of their leader.

The first to step away from the circle was Ian Davis. "Order!" he exclaimed and the room went silent. "The session will be adjourned for the moment until a later date. Let us come back with cooler heads. The Ministry remains strong!" He looked back to Cygnus and received a single, calculated nod.

The Wizengamot walked out of the room, but there was still some fear in their faces despite the Speaker's words. None more than a stuttering and sweating Minister Fudge. All except for Cygnus, who waited until most of the Wizengamot left until he stood up from his seat and calmly strode away.

Dumbledore intercepted Cygnus as he was leaving the room, seemingly the only man brave enough to do so, all others clearing the way for him. "Changes are indeed coming, Lord Greengrass, and I hope your vaunted neutrality may be willing to change as well, my lord?."

Cygnus' composed face shifted into a ghost of a smile. "Neutrality? My dear Chief Warlock...I have never been neutral. My side is well known to all."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow in question, the twinkle in his eyes long since gone.

"Not your side, Chief Warlock, nor that of the self-proclaimed 'Dark Lord'… As always, I am on the only side that matters… my side." Cygnus resumed walking towards the exit, dismissing Dumbledore and the conversation behind him, taking one last Parthian shot as he did so. "And as for those who are not on my side… they are in my way."

Susan felt her hand trembling, sweat pouring out so hard from the rest of her body that it had already soaked her clothes. The desire to let go of her body and collapse to the floor was looking like a better idea every passing second, and yet, she did not let her eyes go off her opponent.

"Expelliarmus!" Hermione's wave of the wand was resolute, yet the way she said the words were not. Susan knew it was pity, no matter how much the Gryffindor would deny it was.

The Hufflepuff raised her wand to cast a shield and it came out perfectly, even if another wave of exhaustion hit her soon after. 'Attack… you have to attack now!' Susan raised her wand and yelled the spell. She briefly envisioned a hurt Hermione and her breath got stuck in her throat. "S-Stupefy!" A weak light sputtered from her wand, barely traveling half a meter before it disappeared into nothing. She felt her heart falter one last time and dropped to her knees. "I… I still can't do it." There was no use in hiding the resentment. Not resentment at Hermione, but resentment at herself.

Hermione approached and offered her hand. "You're doing better. The hand movement was done perfectly, and the incarnation was correct." Susan took the hand and shuffled to a nearby chair. "But… without the intent to do it, it'll never work."

Susan looked at her shoes. "I don't want to hurt you – I don't want to hurt anybody."

"We must be willing to hurt people. It's the only way to survive in this life," declared Daphne as she stood up from her seat. She stepped up to Susan's previous dueling spot and elegantly brandished her wand, preparing to do exactly that.

Hermione had been reluctant when dueling against Susan. With Daphne, that was not so. Daphne struck first with a jinx and followed it with a charm. Both were easily dealt with by Hermione; the first with a shield and the second one with a quick dodge. The Hufflepuff just stared, wishing she could be like either of them. So confident, so sure of themselves, so elegant. Not at all like Susan Bones. 'You must be willing to hurt people,' Daphne had said. 'But… I don't like to hurt others', Susan could only think to herself.

After Hermione successfully defended against Daphne's onslaught, she snuck in a stunner and forced her opponent on the defensive. The Slytherin witch held her off well at first by blocking the first two spells and gracefully stepping away from the third, but Hermione snuck a stinging hex at her opponent's leg. Susan immediately stood up and hurried to the now kneeling Daphne. Mixed between the cry of pain, Susan saw her lover's mouth let out a moan that she had become so familiar with during their secret sessions.

Daphne glanced at Susan. "Do not bother. I am quite alright." No doubt she was, yet Susan knew that Daphne could take her penchant for physical pain a little too far at times.

"Do not move." Susan looked at the Slytherin's pale leg, it would usually be unblemished but there was a red swelling growing with each second. Her wand pointed at the area. She didn't even need to say the incantation for the healing spell. In less than a minute, Daphne's perfect leg returned to its ivory color.

Hermione stood beside them to watch. "A healing charm?"

Susan nodded slowly. "A basic one. I'm sure you know it."

"I… don't, actually." There was something in Hermione's voice that Susan had never heard before. If asked, she would almost say it was envy. "You didn't say the incantation?"

Susan laughed nervously. "It's a very easy one. I don't even need to say the words. It works really well on injured animals, and my friends always come for my help after an unauthorized duel so that Madam Pomfrey doesn't report it."

"That's… impressive."

The Hufflepuff shook her head. "Not really. I'm sure you could master it in a single day."

Hermione shook her head. "They're tricky and you must be extremely precise with them or it could end in disaster. People study this kind of thing for years… and you can just do them without even the incantation?"

Susan shrugged. "I never had a problem with any of them." Despite herself, there was a tickling in her heart that made her smile.

"My thanks," Daphne said coolly as she stood up. "You were lucky I let my guard down, Granger. Ready for another round?"

Hermione shook her head. "I'm hungry and tired." She walked to the table where they had left their bags and searched hers. After fishing her hand several times, each more frantic than the last, she let out a sigh. "Unbelievable!"

"What is it?" asked Susan, sitting down on her seat, Daphne trailing behind her.

The Gryffindor became red in the face. "I forgot my lunch," she admitted with the energy of a young child confessing to a parent.

Daphne shrugged. "Why not just go to the kitchens and ask the house elves for something to eat?"

An incensed look formed on Hermione's face. "I will not take part in slavery."

"Ah, still with that foolish S.P.E.W. campaign?" mocked the purple eyed Slytherin. "Has it never crossed your mind that elves actually enjoy their jobs?"

"It's still slavery!" protested Hermione. "We have managed to rehabilitate Dobby, but there is still much work to be done."

"Dobby?" questioned Susan.

Hermione nodded. "Harry saved him from Lucius Malfoy and he's never been happier. It's proof that elves only need to be educated for them to rise up from their oppression."

Daphne snorted. "No, it isn't. It only means that even the most devout elf in the world would despise having to take orders from that particular family. I can't even stand one minute with Malfoy – I can't imagine having to spend a lifetime with them. Most elves are fine with their lot in life so long as there is work to be done and a powerful witch or wizard to serve."

Feeling the onset of another heated argument, Susan decided to interrupt. "Y-You can take some of mine." She offered Hermione a slice of meat pie. Hermione was about to reject it but her grumbling stomach answered first. "Don't worry. I made it all by myself."

Hermione took a small bite at first and her eyes widened. "You made this?"

Susan nodded. "I prefer to make my meals. The elves protested at first, but eventually relented."

"Why? You don't like the fact that elves are forced to make your meals?"

The Hufflepuff shook her head. "I just like to cook, is all. Ever since I was a little girl." Hermione had already eaten half of her dish. "Do you like it?" Hermione nodded since her mouth was too busy. Susan felt a grin tug at her lips again.

"So," Daphne interrupted after a few minutes of silent eating, "did you get it?" She was talking to Hermione, and for once it was not one of her usual barbs.

To reciprocate the unusual exchange, Hermione responded with an unsettling smile. "Oh... yes. Yes, I did." Her hand fished into her bag once again to retrieve a glass jar. Inside was a large beetle, furiously bumping its body against the transparent walls in a futile attempt to escape. Hermione grinned proudly. "Finally managed to catch her."

"Her?" asked Susan, confused as to its importance – it looked like any other beetle – until she saw some very peculiar markings on the antennae. "I-Is that…"

"Rita Skeeter," confirmed Daphne as she tapped a fingernail against the glass. "You know a little bit about the laws concerning Animagi, don't you, Susan? How grave is it to be unregistered?"

Susan winced. "Bad enough to lose a job."

"At least," agreed Daphne, purple eyes fixed on the beetle. "Now… only one thing to answer. What should we do with this information?"

Hermione crossed her arms. "Tell her to not write stories for a year. Let's see if that's enough to stop her from writing slanderous lies."

"Really? That's it? Quite… unimaginative." Daphne smirked. "There's a lot more that we can get from this. After all, the Prophet is still read by almost everyone, and Skeeter's articles are the most popular. I think we can make sure our perspective is well represented in them."

"B-But that's against journalistic integrity!" protested Hermione.

Daphne shrugged. "So?"

For the next hour, Susan could only sit in silence as Daphne and Hermione. argued back and forth on what to do with the information. Despite their disagreements, there were moments in which both took the time to eye the captured Skeeter with evil eyes that made Susan want to shrink in her seat.

'Thank Merlin both of them clash most of the time', thought Susan. 'Even the Dark Lord should be afraid when they team up!'

Harry watched outside his window, looking as the last parts of the labyrinth were taken down. The sun was beginning to set already, yet both the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students were still preparing for their departure tomorrow.

He took a look at the Beauxbatons carriage and remembered the first time he saw it. Could he have known back then that the person that walked out of that carriage would become so dear to him? "Leetle boy," she had called him and he couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips. He had thought her just a snooty arrogant French girl at first… and now… now she was so much more to him. So very much.

A warm chin rested on his shoulder. "Come to bed, mon chéri. I want to 'old you as much as I can. Zough I will not miss zis land… I will miss you." Her voice was strained, as if trying to summon the comfort that once came naturally.

Harry turned around and smiled. Even now, she still made him smile. "You'll miss me?"

"Oui. 'Ow could I not? Only for a few weeks, of course, for my graduation and to visit ze coven. I 'ave to speak to grand-mère. Zen I will come back to you. 'Opefully you told ze truth and ze south is better zan ze north."

His heart stopped as he tried to find the right thing to say. "I…" he could lose himself in those sapphire eyes, "… please stay in France." The words came out forced and with a heavy breath, like they were trying to convince even him, yet they came out nonetheless.

Fleur's smile dropped. "What do you mean, mon amour?"

Harry took a deep breath and looked away from her. He could not say the words otherwise. "Don't come back. Stay in France. Stay where it's safe. This is not your fight – I dragged you into it… you need to –"

"Non."

"Fleur, please –"

"Non."

"Let me finish!"

"Non! I already know what you want to say and ze answer will be ze same. I won't let you! Don't be so selfish!" cried Fleur, a small river began to flow from her eye. "What about me? Hmm? Do you zink eet's so easy for me to let go of everyzing? Zat I'm a whore zat can easily lay wiz any ozzer man?" Her voice was cracking. "Do you know how hard eet is for us to find zis? To trust someone like I trust you? Eet's not your decision alone. Don't expect me to follow eet."

"I never asked for you to get involved in this. My enemies… they know about you."

"Good! Soon, I will know about zem as well! I am not some delicate flower zat will run at ze first sign of trouble, mon chéri. You already know zat. And I know zat you are not a coward."

Harry shook his head. "Fleur… you don't understand. Voldemort… he's strong. Stronger than anything I've ever fought. I… I can't beat him…"

"You can!" asserted Fleur. Her arms forced him to look at her. Tears were flowing freely now. "You can beat 'im. I know you can." She embraced him and did not let go. "You are 'Arry Potter. You are strong, and you will become more powerful zan 'im. I know it."

"I…" He tried to push her way but she would not let him.

"But," she whispered into his ear, "you cannot beat 'im alone. Zat is what 'e wants. 'E wants you afraid and alone, so 'e can come and destroy you and your allies. Don't push me away, 'Arry Potter. Eef you don't fight for your friends and zose you love… you fight for nozzing… and zen you will lose. Fight for us, and you will be more powerful zan anyzing you can imagine."

The sight of the fireplace became blurry and wetness rolled down Harry's cheek. "I don't want you to get hurt."

Fleur let out a mix between a sob and a giggle. "If you tell me to leave, zen I will get 'urt. At least when I fight wiz you, I will smile through ze pain."

Harry chuckled through his hitched breath. "You won't let me go, will you?"

She buried her face on his neck. "Never."

He finally gathered the courage to look her in the eyes again. They were filled with tears but the smile destroyed any sadness. 'I… have to fight. For her… always for her.'

"You don't have to say anything, mon amour." She went for a kiss – he did not resist. Her lips were hungry yet comforting, and he soon found all thoughts of Voldemort fading away into the dark recesses of his mind. Fleur was more important, and far more lovely.

Her arms grabbed the front of his robe and she began pulling him towards the bed. He got the message and took it off, the shirt followed soon after. Fleur sat down and pulled off her light blue nightgown, fully baring her breasts to him, the pale nipples hardened with excitement. With little restraint, Harry pawed both of them with his hands and kissed her again. She moaned when he used his thumbs to stimulate the little nubs. His lips broke the kiss and started to trail down until they found one of her nipples and sucked on it.

Fleur half-laughed, half-gasped, moving closer to him, allowing him better access to her breasts as her own hands caressed his chest, gently tracing patterns that caused him to shiver, especially as her delicate fingers brushed against his own nipples, moving her mouth to nibble at his neck. Her fingers trailed down to the hem of his pants and pulled down. His member was rock hard and formed a tent within his undergarments, the sensitive tip resting between Fleur's legs.

"'Arry?" asked Fleur as she pulled down her wet panties. She grinded against the covered tip of his manhood with her crotch until her fingers grabbed the hem of his undergarments.

"Fleur?" asked Harry, his heart beating loudly as he looked into her eyes. "Are you sure?"

A tear rolled down Fleur's cheek but it was not one of sadness. "Oui… I am yours – please, take me."

Harry swallowed the dryness in his mouth as he lined up his erect shaft against her entrance. With a determined grit of his teeth, he felt his sensitive head part her wet nether lips and gasped. It was unlike anything he had experienced until now. Her walls hugged the tip with a warm grip, giving way thanks to the fluids trailing down to the sheets.

Fleur let out a throaty sigh and laid on her back. Her breathing quickened as Harry went deeper, his manhood slowly claiming her flower until it hit a barrier. He stopped, a trickle of sweat rolled down his cheek as he looked deep into her eyes. The room was still for what seemed like an eternity until Fleur bit her lower lip, closed her beautiful blue orbs, and nodded. Harry tried to be as gentle as he could, but he twitched at the last second and broke through the barrier. Fleur whimpered and bit her lip tighter. "S-Sorry," stuttered Harry. The scarlet color of blood shined even in the dim light as it leaked on the sheets.

She opened her eyes and smiled through the grimace. Her hand reached to cup his cheek "Non. Zere is nozzing to apologize for. I want zis."

Harry gave her a tender smile and pressed on slowly. His length was hard as wood, yet his lover's excitement made it easy to slide in, slowly and steadily. The sensations were so intense that he felt the need for release coming quicker than before. Below him, Fleur was moaning louder as his shaft disappeared inside her. Finally, Harry felt the last of his length be enveloped by the warm walls and let out a breath he didn't even realize he was holding.

Fleur slowly parted her lids and her wet sapphire eyes looked at his green ones. She stared at him with a loving smile that shattered all the weight on his shoulders. Harry bent down to meet her lips with his own. His hips began to withdraw from hers, shivering as the cool air battered against his tool now that it was deprived of its warm sheath. There was no hesitation the second time he entered his beautiful lover again.

Both began to breathe hard as he started to set up a pace, the sound joined the crackling of the fireplace and the smacking of flesh against flesh. Harry felt the seed of his climax begin to form, and was too overcome by the sensations. He tried to hold back, wanting to cum with Fleur, but it was too much, and he could only manage to gasp out "F-fleur, I'm c-cumming!" before he lost himself once more, even as he felt Fleur shiver beneath him, legs coming to wrap around him, moaning her own pleasure.

For the briefest of moments, Harry knew nothing but pure, unadulterated pleasure as his seed shot into his lover. Stars danced in front of his eyes and he could hear nothing aside from his own heavy breathing. The legs that were meant to support him now wobbled exhaustedly and he felt the need to lay down. Then, he saw Fleur, still moaning, and realized she had not climaxed yet.

Despite his manhood starting to relax, Harry kept it inside and continued to thrust in the hope that she would reach her bliss as well. Her moans seemed more like courtesy, the same as her eyes that told him it was okay if he quit now… but he glanced at the little pearl above his sheathed length and brought his thumb and forefinger to stimulate it. Now, her moans turned to barely muted screams as her eyes widened.

Smirking through half-lidded eyes and trembling legs, Harry closed the distance between his lips and her ear and whispered, "It's your turn."

Fleur's only response was a hitched scream and blue eyes that became wide as saucers, followed by her body going limp into a blubbering, panting mess. Harry joined her side, their fingers finding each other's in a tight clasp until they finally managed to regain their voices.

"That was..."

"Waouh…"

Harry chuckled. "Sorry we couldn't do it… together."

Fleur giggled and snuggled her head into the crook of his neck. "Eet was amazing. We 'ave ze rest of our lives to practice."

His imagination went wild. Harry thought of both of them going to Potter Manor and to Fleur's home. Never had he seen the south of France, and Fleur had only seen Scotland. He also imagined many other things. Going to a movie with her, or maybe a picnic in the country, or a warm beach. Most of all, Harry allowed himself to see Fleur in a white dress, pledging to love him forever. All the things he wanted to do and had almost denied himself. "The rest of our lives?" he asked.

"Oui. Once you defeat ze Dark Lord, we will be free to do what we wish, non?"

For a moment, Harry could believe it. No matter how powerful Voldemort was, for now there was no doubt in his mind that he would triumph in the end. With Fleur and his friends beside him, how could he not?

As he fell asleep with the witch he loved by his side, a flaming beacon of hope flared inside his heart.

'I will fight against Voldemort… and I will win. For you, I will win.'

AN: That's it for now. Three chapter in a row. Hopefully you enjoyed them. The next couple of chapters are going to be for my other story but I did not end it in a cliffhanger this time.

If you like this chapter, please leave a review. Or you can go to my Discord server to talk directly

Link: FEKnu79

Until next time!

The Metal Sage