Chapter 25 Heartaches in Motion

Harry woke up and was dressed for his morning workout and he joined the tail end of the Goblin line. He matched their regular 120 paces per minute rhythm and followed along, letting his mind wander as he often did during the course of the morning run. His mind wandered in only one direction: Back to his afternoon, and evening with Fleur, and the way it had ended. Truth be known he could have handled it better.

However, in his mind, he was living through it again, starting with their departure from Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, out of the Alley and into Muggle London. Fleur had been leading the way and their conversation had been serious, about the tragic event that bound the two of them together, as friends, if nothing else.

When they passed under the umpteenth streetlight, he looked up. A fraction of a second earlier or later and the moment would have been lost. Something about the way the light struck her, seemed to light her up from within, "You look beautiful," he told her without registering a word of what she had just asked. That dazzling smile would have melted the heart of any man if she had given it a touch more power. She was doing her best to reign in her Veela traits, keep them under control. It was a subtle gesture and if it were not for the Goblin Occulemency shields, he probably would never have noticed.

She giggled softly and Harry found that he liked the sound. It was not like when Gabrielle had giggled, or Lavender or Parvarti giggled when gossiping. It was soft, and, inviting, and he figured that the more she laughed, the better. "Thank you, Harry. You look rather dashing yourself."

Harry blushed brilliantly at the unexpected compliment. "Well, I had someone with taste helped me pick it out," he managed to say, "This married Goblin I know, has quite an eye for fashion."

She giggled again, and Harry mentally congratulated himself for accomplishing that without making an idiot out of himself. He knew of London, but next to nothing about it at street level and looked to her for direction, "This way," she explained gesturing to the right. Harry followed her lead, and they walked side by side down the street.

"So how is the job going?" Harry asked her conversationally.

"Oh, it's going alright," she replied. "I have not had many of the customers invite me for coffee and then offer to let me take them out for dinner at a restaurant of my choosing."

Harry chuckled sheepishly at her joke, shrugging slightly. "You are the first friendly face I've seen this summer. I was wondering if I was going to be stuck with Goblins until the 1st of September."

She looked over at him, met his eyes for a moment, and knew that he was being honest. "Ah, here we are," she said, gesturing toward the Italian restaurant in front of them. "I hope you like Italian?"

"Uh-huh," he responded.

They entered the restaurant, and she immediately led him to the host. They looked up at them for a moment before his eyes widened in delight, "Ms. Delacour, I did not think we would have the pleasure of your company so soon after last week!" he nodded in the direction of Harry, "Table for two?"

"Yes please Paulo," she said, leaning forward ever so slightly. The unfortunate host could only blink at that wave of something swept over him. Those touches of Veela allure had quite literally astounded him. Harry could understand that appeal. He would feel it, more than once and it struck as the smell of honey and apples with the freshness of spring rain. "Right this way, please," he directed them.

Harry waved for Fleur to precede him and followed behind her. He tried not to admire the view too much but could not resist a couple of glances, as they were led to a small table for two set against the wall. It was not so small as to feel cramped, but it wouldn't have sat any more than two people comfortably. "Perhaps," mused Harry, "Paulo thinks this is a date." Their waitress approached, menus in hand, "My name is Vanessa, and I'll be your server this evening," she told them as she handed each of them a menu. "If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to ask." She left them with their menus, and Harry glanced up at Fleur smiling softly before opening his menu.

Veela detect emotion with ease, and she had felt as much as seen that smile. What she felt, she was not sure how to interpret. That smile he thought was craftily hidden behind a menu was the first one of happiness in quite a while for Harry, but there was the tinge of something else, lust or desire. She shook her head behind her own menu. There were times when being a Veela was a curse: She wondered whether it was her or just that part of her that had piqued the interest the young man opposite her sought to contain.

The menu was not very long but it had variety. Harry knew what some of the items were, having cooked them as the Dursley's kitchen slave but there were a number of dishes he had never even heard of. Fortunately, there was a short description explaining each dish. However, he opted for something simple and set his menu down to engage in what could fast become a dangerous pastime: Studying Fleur.

Seeing that he had placed his menu aside she asked, "So what will you be having?"

"Lasagna," he said smoothly, not even bothering to shift his gaze, which fortunately for him was on her face.

"They make a good Lasagna here," she said, "Fettuccini Alfredo with Broccoli and Chicken," she decided, "Did you want to get an appetizer or a salad?"

"Err—I hadn't thought about that," he responded with a sheepish grin. He opened his menu and looked through the list. Half of it seemed foreign to him, and he didn't know what to make of it. He looked over the menu to find her watching him with a small grin on her lips. "Was there something that you wanted?" he asked her.

Her smile grew wider as she answered, "I was thinking some calamari might be nice."

Not really knowing what he was agreeing to, Harry said, "Okay, that works for me."

Their waitress returned a minute later and asked, "Are we ready? Did you want an appetizer to start off?"

Harry glanced at Fleur and saw her give him a slight nod urging him to order it. "Umm, yes, we'd like to have some calamari please," he told her.

"An excellent choice. Are you both ready to order?"

Harry nodded and looked to Fleur to let her go first. She turned to the waiter. ""Fettuccini Alfredo with Broccoli and Chicken,"

She jotted down the order on a pad of paper and turned to Harry. "And for you, sir?"

"Lasagna," Harry replied.

"Excellent," the waiter said as she jotted the order down. "I'll have your appetizer out for you shortly. Now, what can I get you both to drink?" Given the limitations of age, they both stuck to water. The waitress nodded and wandered off, presumably back to the kitchen to place their order.

"So Harry," Fleur broke the silence a moment later, "what have you been up to since the last time I saw you?"

"Oh, well I've been jogging and working out in the mornings as usual," he told her. A small smile graced her lips as she listened. "And I've been doing a little studying as well since the school year is starting up soon."

The conversation… the conversation… having watched it and replayed it a half dozen times, he was not sure if it meant anything at all. They always, invariably came back to the Triwizard Tournament and its aftermath, "…least he did not suffer…" she blinked and pulled back slightly, "Merde. Harry, I am so sorry…"

"It's okay," Harry told her with a slightly sad smile as he reached across the table and placed his hand atop hers. "It's okay. It's the truth… his death was painless," he clamped down, hard on his emotions at that point, He was barely able to keep himself from freezing the table, and had to actually channel a little warmth to keep the wood from cracking like dropped porcelain. "I've had… some time to come to terms with it… all of it. Don't feel bad about it, really. I'm okay talking about it."

"I still feel just awful for bringing all that up," she told him.

"Don't," he said firmly, squeezing her hand, gently, "We both need to work through it, more than anyone else could need to, or understand." He shrugged, "we're probably going to be seeing a lot of each other, and, it is nice, to have someone else, who can understand." He let out a mental sigh of relief. At least their table would not break when Vanessa returned with their starter now. "Speak of the devil," he mused.

She appeared at the table to serve their starter and she gave his hand a quick squeeze before letting him pull away. Harry waited and let Fleur make the first move. She saw that he was waiting on her and gave him a smile for his efforts. She pushed a small pile of the squid onto her small plate and poured a bit of marinara sauce over it. He smiled at her and mimicked her actions. He skewered one of the breaded pieces and chewed it, carefully, curiously before smiling and nodding to himself. Fleur giggled softly and asked, "Is that your first time having calamari?"

"Uh-huh," he replied.

"I could tell," she told him. "Your reaction was cute."

Harry felt his face heat up and knew that his cheeks must be stained red. He mumbled a "Thanks," and forked another piece.

They ate their way through the calamari and waited only a moment before the waiter appeared to claim the empty dish. "Your meal will be ready shortly," she informed them. "I'll be back in a minute with it."

He and Fleur chatted for a minute as they waited for their main dishes. Sure enough, the waiter was back carrying two plates. She placed their dished and introduced them, "Bon appetite," she said to them merrily.

"Thanks," they both replied. They grinned at each other for a moment before turning to their meals. They talked a little as they ate, but they mostly just enjoyed their meal. Harry found that he rather enjoyed the restaurant's take on the dish. He did not fancy himself a great chef or anything, but he thought that he made a decent meal on his own. However, his dinner here was fantastic. He told Fleur as much.

"I'm glad you like it," she told him. "I wasn't sure what kind of food you liked, but I figured Italian was a pretty safe bet."

"It was a good choice," he told her earnestly.

Soon enough they were finishing their meals and she returned to clear the china, "Any dessert for you or coffee?"

Harry looked at Fleur. She shook her head slightly to show that she did not want anything else, so Harry replied, "No, I think we're both pleasantly full."

"Very well, I will just leave this with you then," She said as he placed the check-in the middle of the table. Fleur's hand snaked out to take Harry's, in an attempt to distract him from taking the bill. She set a single pulse of her charm towards him. It worked as he looked up in surprise.

"Consider this, my treat Harry," she said, "Happy Birthday."

They walked through the restaurant and out onto the street again. Harry turned to Fleur unsure of what he was supposed to do now. "Thanks again for setting everything up. I really enjoyed dinner."

"Me too," she replied. "The company was especially nice."

Harry's face turned scarlet yet again as he responded, "I really enjoyed spending the evening with you too."

She smiled back at him warmly and the two stood there silently grinning at each other for a minute. "Umm, do you live nearby?"

"At the moment, I live at the far end of Diagon Alley," she told him with a brilliant smile. "And an escort would be lovely."

"Great," he replied. "Shall we?"

"Indeed," she responded.

She gestured to the right, and they set off down the street together. After a minute of walking silently, she reached her hand and placed her palm against his. He spread his fingers and intertwined them with hers. He glanced over at her and flashed a wide grin at the gesture. She returned his smile, and they continued to walk.

They stopped at the Leaky Cauldron, just for a nightcap, even though neither of them had anything stronger than tea, and then resumed their journey into Diagon Alley. All too soon, they were standing outside her building.

"Thank you, Harry. I had a wonderful evening," she told him as she leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek. She stepped up and hugged him briefly. He wrapped his arms around her to return the gesture. She released him slightly and looked into his eyes for a moment, their faces only inches apart. She parted her lips slightly in anticipation, and Harry fought to keep his nerves in check. She closed her eyes and leaned slightly forward. He tilted his head slightly and met her halfway. He closed his own eyes as their lips met. It was a brief kiss, but it seemed right, somehow.

A part of him did feel guilty, very guilty about that. But it was not as if he had planned the whole evening with this in mind. A part of him wondered, and a part of him dared. He had the skills, but he held back. He remembered what Marinashka had told him, "Do not become that which you fight against." All of that took place in a fraction of a second. He knew, then, as he did right this instant, he had done the right thing by staying out of her mind.

He smiled, "So did I," he hesitated, not sure what the next step would be. "Would you care to do this again sometime?" She raised eyebrow was indicator enough, "That so… did not come out right…" he said sheepishly.

"Never asked a woman out before?" she teased him lightly.

His smile went from relaxed to brittle, "Never had to... Only ever went out with Hermione," his smile was fixed, as he seemed to be staring at something only he could see, "We, fell together… never asked her out, only went on two dates. Never… went that far at all." He snapped out of his reverie, "I'll… owl you," he said, "Good night, Fleur."

Harry had kicked himself last night on his walk back to Gringotts, and then on the cart ride back to the Clan Sanctuary where Griphook's had his family home. Moreover, he had spent his entire morning workout, on automatic pilot without, and realized it only as he came to a halt outside Griphook's Khazag.

Harry paused to survey his surroundings, taking it all in and he realized it would probably never cease to amaze him. The cavern roof was almost fifty feet overhead, allowing for buildings of no more than three or four floors in height. Tall perhaps by wizarding standards, but minuscule compared to the towering skyscrapers muggles have built. Roads and pedestrian sidewalks linked the various streets to different districts. The karts were a part of an extensive network that functioned along the same lines as the London Underground. He shook his head, marveling at it all. If only the rest of the world knew what lay beneath so many of their hills and mountains.

Not that it mattered. Harry took his morning shower, breakfasted with his adoptive family, and hopped on the kart, heading into Gringotts, where he would set the wheels in motion, to snare himself a headmaster.

His first meeting was with the Goblin Property Office. It had not taken them long to find the first of the two properties. They had found three properties that fit his requirements and finally settled on the second property, "I would like to visit this one." One Floo trip, half an hour later and Harry was satisfied that its opulence would be more than enough to have his aunt and uncle drooling. He signed the necessary paperwork, setup for the immediate closing of the sale, and had the Goblins ward the property immediately, effectively making it invisible to the entire wizarding world.

Taking a sales brochure and photos of the property, it was a trip on the Knight Bus back to little Whinging and Privet Drive. It was not part of the plan, however, to encounter both his Aunt and Uncle, sitting in the living room watching television. They opened the door and were clearly less than pleased to see him, "Having a nice enough summer without you and your unnaturalness around. What do you want? Your freak friends decide to disassociate themselves with you?"

"Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon" he nodded, ignoring their remarks, "I came here, for two things: I'm here to say a permanent goodbye, and to do you a favor," he thrust out the sales brochure and the photos with one hand, "You want the place, and it's yours on a few conditions."

"If you are leaving, you are already doing us a huge favor!" his uncle spat.

Harry glared at him and resisted the temptation to go for his wand, to truly educate this… thing about manners. It took him a moment to compose himself and a deep breath before he could speak calmly, "A few minutes for me to explain, I'll answer your questions and I'm out of your lives for good. Isn't that reason enough?"

They nodded warily, and let him into the living room, "Less than three months ago, Voldemort rose from the grave," Petunia gasped and sat up, "My parent's will states that I was never supposed to come here if anything happened to them. Dumbledore," he growled, "played both of you, and dictated the course of the first fourteen years of my life. I am not going to let him do it anymore. For that, I need you all, gone."

His aunt and uncle kept their comments to themselves at least. They stared at him, giving him full attention for once. "The house is ready and you will be able to move in tomorrow."

"What do you want in exchange?" asked Vernon quietly. Say what you want - and one could say a great deal but you could not deny his skills as a negotiator. It was what he did for a living: Negotiate business deals.

"I have four conditions: The first is that you have no more contact with the magical world. Ever. I am having your new home warded so it's invisible to the magical world, and I'll leave you with £100,000 to buy whatever you need to fix it up to your liking. Two, when you move, take nothing. Nothing!" he emphasized, "Pack your suitcases and they will be delivered, tag the furniture you want to keep with these," he dropped a pack of bright yellow post-it notes on the coffee table, "and the furniture will be delivered along with your luggage in a matter of hours. Thirdly, sign these. Emancipation documents that make me an adult in the wizarding world, and we'll never see each other again," he handed the stack over to Vernon, "Finally, this is an all or nothing deal: Accept it as is or not at all."

His "family" sat dumbfounded, staring at Harry and the photos of the gorgeous home. "But what about our friends?" his aunt gasped.

Harry barely suppressed a snort of laughter, "What friends?" he thought, but he smiled, "Once you move, you are invisible to the magical world. Call them and tell them whatever you want. You'll have a new home, I'll be out of your life, and the only magic you'll have to worry about is the crap you see on TV. What do you say?"

They looked at each other for a moment and then nodded, "Good." Harry handed over a stack of documentation, "Titles, deeds, etcetera." Harry said, "I'll give you a few minutes to look it over." He went into the kitchen and opened the fridge. There was a variety of soft drinks and sodas, but Harry spied something stronger and grabbed a can of beer. He sipped it, sitting at the kitchen table for a moment when a movement beyond the garden caught his attention. He focused on the area and reached out with his legilimency. He found something that he would deal with, shortly.

Vernon chose that moment to amble into the kitchen, "It's all in order," he grunted, a sound that was a mix of greed, appreciation, disgust, and gratitude, "So… when are you leaving?"

Harry checked the paperwork and found it complete. Every line, every signature, and all the dates were in order. He stared into his uncle's face, for what he hoped would be the last time ever, "Now." His uncle grunted and made his way upstairs, as Harry made his way to the front door when he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Aunt Petunia?"

She removed her hand, "Thank you," she whispered.

He shrugged, "My mother, was your sister, and you are a part of the little family I have left. We don't… get along, but somebody I loved…love, told me that family sticks together." He kept his face passive but he felt his hands tingle and grow slightly warm.

"Loved?" she asked cautiously, "And love?"

He nodded, bluntly, "She was murdered, the night Voldemort was resurrected." He hesitated but a surge of bitterness compelled him to ask, "What was my mother like? When you knew her?" his aunt's shoulder stiffened, "You must have liked her, been close before she went to Hog… my school."

His aunt said nothing, bustling back into the kitchen to get a cup of tea. Harry followed her in and waited. Finally, she sat down with her cup and gestured for him to do the same. He blinked in surprise at the streaks of tears upon her face, "We were close before that accursed letter," Aunt Petunia said, barely above a whisper, "we were less than two years apart… I was only eighteen months older," she stalled.

Harry's irritation leaped to the fore and he did not bother asking. He went in, subtly. The memories were fresh, at the forefront of her mind, making them easy to access, to see, and read without any digging. His aunt said nothing, staring into space for a long moment as more tears rolled down her face. The memories were revealing, showing two close sisters who grew somewhat apart but stayed in constant contact. "You said your parents didn't mind her being a witch."

Her jaw clenched in rage and for a long moment, she said nothing, "Voldemort…" she said. The repressed memories sprang forward like a sledgehammer into Harry's mental probe. And he winced, "James and Lily were engaged. Voldemort and his… Death Eaters," she whispered, "They attacked the engagement party but missed James and Lily by a few minutes, Vernon and I by perhaps ten…"

He could see it all: how they had driven up and saw the green glow, the great skull with its forked snake tongue floating over the house. How they rushed inside and found the engaged couple, each crying over their own parents. He could understand why she hated the wizarding world. "Go," she whispered, "Please… take care... don't die… Lily…Lily would never forgive me, if anything happened to you."

With a nod, Harry walked out of Number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, forever.