# Château Delacour - Harry's Suite - July 31st, Dawn
Harry surfaced from sleep with the gradual awareness that something was different. Not wrong, exactly, but decidedly unexpected. His enhanced senses catalogued information before his conscious mind fully engaged: unfamiliar warmth pressed against his back, the subtle floral scent that he'd learned to associate with Fleur, and the soft sound of breathing that definitely wasn't his own.
His eyes snapped open.
The pre-dawn light filtering through the balcony windows painted everything in shades of silver and blue, providing enough illumination for his enhanced vision to confirm what his other senses had already reported. Fleur Delacour was in his bed, curled against his back with one arm draped across his waist, sleeping peacefully as though this were the most natural arrangement in the world.
Harry's mind raced through several responses simultaneously—panic, confusion, appreciation for the comfortable warmth, and a growing awareness that his body was responding to her proximity in ways that were both entirely natural and absolutely mortifying given their circumstances.
*Don't move*, he told himself firmly. *Moving will wake her up, and then we'll both have to acknowledge this situation, and I have absolutely no idea what the appropriate protocol is for waking up with a beautiful Veela in your bed on your thirteenth birthday.*
Except—he checked his internal sense of time with the precision his transformation had gifted him—it wasn't quite his birthday yet. Perhaps another hour until dawn properly broke and July thirty-first officially began. Which meant Fleur had snuck into his room sometime during the night, and Harry had been so deeply asleep that even his enhanced hearing hadn't detected her arrival.
The realization that she'd managed to bypass both his supernatural senses and whatever instincts his draconic nature should have triggered for territorial awareness suggested that his subconscious had recognized her presence as safe. Non-threatening. Perhaps even welcome in ways he hadn't consciously acknowledged.
His body certainly seemed to think her presence was welcome, judging by certain responses that were making the thin fabric of his sleep pants feel considerably more restrictive than usual.
*Think about something else*, Harry commanded himself desperately. *Potions homework. Snape's disappointed face. Mrs. Norris. Anything except the fact that Fleur is pressed against you wearing what feels like very little clothing and smells absolutely incredible and—*
"You are awake," Fleur murmured against his shoulder blade, her voice rough with sleep and carrying an intimacy that made every nerve ending in Harry's body light up like a Christmas tree. "I can tell by ze way your 'eartbeat 'as changed."
Harry froze, which was probably the worst possible response but seemed to be all his brain could manage at the moment. "Fleur. You're... in my bed."
"Oui," she agreed with the sort of calm practicality that suggested she'd planned this and wasn't remotely concerned about the implications. "I wanted to be ze first person to wish you 'appy birthday, and ze most efficient way to ensure zat was to be present when you woke."
Her logic was simultaneously perfect and completely insane, which Harry was beginning to recognize as characteristic of Fleur's approach to most situations.
"You couldn't have just knocked on the door at dawn?" Harry asked, his voice coming out slightly strained as she shifted position slightly and he became even more aware of exactly how close they were.
"I could 'ave," Fleur admitted, her breath warm against the back of his neck in a way that was doing absolutely nothing to help his self-control. "But zen I would not 'ave been able to do zis."
She pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder blade, the gesture both innocent and impossibly intimate, and Harry felt heat that had nothing to do with his fire abilities race through his system.
"Fleur," he managed, trying to sound responsible despite the fact that every instinct he possessed was suggesting that turning around and reciprocating would be an excellent idea. "Your parents are going to murder me if they find out you snuck into my room."
Her laugh was soft and musical, vibrating against his back in ways that were becoming increasingly distracting. "Papa knows I am 'ere. I told 'im my intentions last evening."
Harry's brain stuttered to a complete halt. "You told Sebastian you were planning to sneak into my bed?"
"I told Papa zat I wished to be present when you woke on your birthday, and zat ze most efficient method would be to remain in your room overnight," Fleur corrected with the sort of precise language that suggested she'd chosen her words very carefully during that conversation. "E said zat so long as we maintained appropriate behavior, 'e would not object to my presence."
"And your definition of 'appropriate behavior' includes...?"
"Cuddling," Fleur said firmly, as though this should have been obvious. "Conversation. Perhaps some kissing, if you are comfortable with zat. But nothing more—we are both still too young for anything beyond emotional intimacy and some physical affection."
The casual way she discussed boundaries and possibilities made Harry's head spin. Here was someone who had clearly thought through exactly what she wanted, established appropriate limits, and obtained parental permission before proceeding. It was simultaneously the most responsible and the most forward thing anyone had ever done regarding him.
"Fleur, I need you to understand something," Harry said carefully, trying to organize his thoughts despite the significant distraction of her continued proximity. "My body is responding to your presence in ways that are... natural but also somewhat beyond my conscious control at the moment."
"I know," she replied with evident satisfaction. "I can feel your 'eartbeat, sense your magical signature responding to mine, and yes, I am aware of certain physical responses zat you cannot completely suppress. Zis is normal and expected when two people experience mate recognition."
She shifted slightly, creating just enough space that Harry could breathe more easily while maintaining contact that kept them connected. "But 'Arry, I am not 'ere to pressure you or to make you uncomfortable. I simply wanted to be present for your birthday, and to begin building ze physical intimacy zat will eventually be part of our bond."
"Physical intimacy that stops well short of anything inappropriate," Harry clarified, needing to hear her confirm the boundaries again.
"Bien sûr," Fleur agreed. "I am fifteen, you are turning thirteen, and neither of us is ready for more zan affection and perhaps some exploration of attraction. But 'Arry..." Her voice grew softer, more vulnerable. "I 'ave never felt zis way about anyone before. Ze mate recognition, it is not just magical—it is emotional. I want to be close to you in whatever ways are appropriate for where we are in our development."
Harry took a deep breath, feeling his enhanced senses settle as he processed her words and recognized the genuine honesty behind them. "Okay. But Fleur, I need you to be patient with me. I've never... I mean, the Dursleys weren't exactly affectionate, and I don't really know what appropriate physical intimacy looks like."
"Zen we learn togezzer," Fleur said simply. "And we communicate. If something feels wrong or uncomfortable, you tell me immediately. Oui?"
"Yes," Harry agreed, feeling some of his tension ease. "And the same applies to you—if I do something that crosses a line, you need to tell me."
"I will," she promised. "Now, may I turn you around so I can see your face? It seems strange to 'ave zis conversation while looking at ze back of your 'ead."
Harry laughed despite himself, the sound breaking through the nervous tension that had been building. "Alright, but fair warning—my body is still going to be responding in ways that might be obvious."
"I would be concerned if it were not," Fleur replied with evident amusement.
Harry rolled over carefully, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity despite the situation. The sight of Fleur in the early dawn light—silver-blonde hair tousled from sleep, blue eyes warm with affection, wearing a simple nightgown that was modest but still revealed considerably more than her usual clothing—made his breath catch.
"Bonjour," she said softly, her smile transforming her already beautiful features into something that belonged in artwork rather than his bed. "And 'appy birthday, 'Arry Potter. Welcome to thirteen."
"Thank you," Harry managed, acutely aware of how close they were, how easy it would be to close the small distance between them and discover what kissing Fleur Delacour would feel like.
As if reading his thoughts—and given Veela emotional perception, she probably was—Fleur's smile grew slightly mischievous. "Are you wondering what it would be like to kiss me?"
Harry felt heat rise in his cheeks despite his enhanced confidence. "Is it that obvious?"
"Your 'eartbeat changes when you look at my mouth," Fleur observed with clinical interest that somehow managed to be seductive. "Your magical signature pulses in rhythm with mine. And your scent..." She inhaled delicately. "It carries markers of attraction and curiosity and desire."
"Right," Harry said weakly. "So basically I'm broadcasting every thought I have."
"Only to someone with Veela senses," Fleur assured him. "To anyone else, you would simply appear to be a teenage boy 'aving a normal conversation with a girl 'e finds attractive."
She reached out and touched his cheek with gentle fingers, the gesture achingly tender. "'Arry, I want you to know something important. I am 'ere because I want to be, because my magic and my 'eart both recognize you as someone extraordinary. But I will never push you to do anything before you are ready."
"Even if you want it too?" Harry asked quietly.
"Especially zen," Fleur replied with unexpected wisdom. "Ze mate bond will last our entire lives—zere is no rush to explore every aspect of it immediately. We 'ave time to build trust, to learn each ozzer's boundaries, to grow into ze relationship rather zan forcing it."
Harry found himself genuinely moved by her thoughtfulness. "Thank you. For being patient with me, for establishing boundaries, for... for all of this."
Fleur's smile grew warmer. "You are my mate, 'Arry. Eventually, officially, through ze bond zat we will form when we are both ready. But already, in my 'eart, you are ze person I choose to be close to. And choosing to be patient, to respect your development, to ensure you feel safe—zat is simply part of 'ow I love you."
The casual use of the word "love" sent Harry's thoughts scattering again, though this time the panic was mixed with something that felt almost like hope.
"I don't know if I'm ready to say that yet," he admitted honestly. "The feelings are there—the attraction, the trust, the sense of connection. But love seems like such a significant word, and I want to be sure I understand what it means before I use it."
"Zat is wise," Fleur agreed without any trace of disappointment. "Love means different things at different stages of relationship. Right now, for me, it means choosing your wellbeing above my own desires. It means being 'ere to celebrate your birthday, to offer comfort and affection, to begin building ze foundation zat will eventually support something much deeper."
She paused, studying his face with that characteristic intensity that made Harry feel completely seen. "Later, as we mature, it will mean different things—partnership, passion, commitment, ze willingness to build a life togezzer. But we do not need to understand all of zat yet. We simply need to be 'onest about where we are now."
A soft knock at the door interrupted their conversation, followed by Gabrielle's distinctive voice calling through the wood with barely contained excitement.
"'Arry! Are you awake? It is your birthday! And Fleur, Papa says you 'ave been in zere long enough and should come out before Maman decides to investigate!"
Fleur laughed, the sound bright and unself-conscious. "I suppose our private time is over. Though zis 'as been..." She paused, searching for words. "Perfect. Exactly what I 'oped your birthday would begin with."
"It's been unexpected but wonderful," Harry agreed, surprised to realize he meant it completely. "Though we should probably get up before Gabrielle decides to pick the lock and provide running commentary on whatever she finds."
"She would absolutely do zat," Fleur confirmed, pressing one more quick kiss to Harry's cheek before extracting herself from the bed with fluid grace. "Come, let us greet ze day properly. I believe Papa 'as something 'e wishes to give you zis morning—a letter zat arrived last night by special owl."
Harry's enhanced hearing caught the careful emphasis she placed on "special," and his mind immediately jumped to possibilities. "A letter from..."
"From someone who loves you very much and 'as been fighting to return to you," Fleur confirmed gently. "But I will let you read it before we discuss ze details. Some things are too important for secondhand delivery."
As they made their way toward the door—Fleur pausing to wrap a robe around her nightgown, Harry grateful for the loose sleep clothes that provided strategic concealment—Harry felt anticipation building in his chest that had nothing to do with physical attraction and everything to do with the possibility that his thirteenth birthday might finally bring the family connection he'd been missing his entire life.
Whatever the day held, he would face it with Fleur at his side, Gabrielle's enthusiastic support, and the knowledge that somewhere, his godfather was fighting to reclaim the right to be part of his life.
And for the first time since his transformation had begun, Harry felt genuinely excited about what the future might hold.
—
# Château Delacour - Second Floor Corridor - Dawn
The door had barely cleared its frame when Gabrielle launched herself at Harry with the sort of reckless enthusiasm typically reserved for Quidditch tackles or possibly military assaults. Her small body collided with his midsection with surprising force—Veela heritage apparently included enhanced strength even at ten years old—and Harry's enhanced reflexes were the only thing that kept them both from tumbling backward into his room in an undignified heap.
"'ARRY! 'APPY BIRTHDAY!" Gabrielle shrieked directly into his chest, her arms wrapping around his waist with the tenacity of a barnacle that had found its forever home. "You are thirteen! Officially a teenager! Zis is very important and must be celebrated with extreme enthusiasm and possibly cake for breakfast!"
Harry laughed despite the impact, his hands automatically moving to steady the excited ten-year-old who was now bouncing on her toes while maintaining her death grip on his waist. "Good morning to you too, Gabrielle. Though I have to say, your greeting technique could use some refinement. Maybe a warning next time before the tackle?"
"Where would be ze fun in zat?" Gabrielle demanded, tilting her head back to beam up at him with the sort of radiant joy that made her Veela heritage absolutely obvious. Her silver-blonde hair was already immaculately arranged despite the early hour, and she wore a summer dress in pale yellow that seemed designed to match the sunrise streaming through the corridor windows. "Surprise tackles are much more exciting! Besides, with your enhanced reflexes, you were never in any real danger of falling."
"That's not entirely the point," Harry replied, though his tone was more amused than reproachful. His enhanced senses were already cataloguing the rest of the morning's developments—Apolline's distinctive magical signature approaching from the direction of the main staircase, Sebastian's presence in his study on the ground floor, and the general stirring of the château's household staff as they prepared for what was apparently going to be a significant celebration.
"'Ow was your night?" Gabrielle asked with the sort of knowing grin that suggested she was completely aware of her sister's nocturnal visit and found the entire situation thoroughly entertaining. "Did you sleep well? Were you comfortable? Did anything interesting 'appen zat you would like to share?"
Fleur, who had been leaning against the doorframe with elegant amusement while watching her sister's enthusiastic assault, stepped forward and placed a hand on Gabrielle's shoulder with gentle authority.
"Gabrielle," she said in the particular tone that older sisters everywhere use when their younger siblings are being deliberately provocative, "you are being nosy and obvious about it. 'Arry's sleeping arrangements are 'is own business."
"But you were in zere with 'im!" Gabrielle protested with the sort of scientific fascination that suggested she'd been lying awake cataloguing evidence. "I 'eard you sneak into 'is room last night around midnight, and I detected your magical signature remaining zere until approximately ten minutes ago when you both woke!"
Harry felt heat rise in his cheeks that had nothing to do with his enhanced body temperature. "You were monitoring us magically? Gabrielle, that's..."
"Research!" Gabrielle announced proudly, finally releasing her grip on Harry's waist so she could gesture expansively. "I am studying mate recognition and bonding behaviors, and what better opportunity zan to observe ze natural development of emotional and physical intimacy between you and Fleur?"
"We are not a science experiment," Fleur said with remarkable patience given the circumstances. "And your 'research' should not involve spying on private moments between people who 'ave not given you permission to observe zem."
Gabrielle's expression shifted from excitement to something approaching remorse, though Harry suspected the regret was more about being caught than about the actual behavior. "I am sorry. You are right—I should 'ave asked permission before conducting observational studies. But in my defense, ze data I collected was very interesting and could contribute to broader understanding of 'ow Dragon-Veela mate bonds develop!"
"Gabrielle," Harry said gently, crouching down so he was at eye level with her, "I appreciate your scientific curiosity—I really do. And I understand that for Veela, this sort of thing is probably more openly discussed than it would be in most human families. But Fleur and I are still figuring out what our relationship is going to look like, and we need some privacy to do that without feeling like we're being studied."
Gabrielle's lower lip trembled slightly, and Harry immediately felt guilty for making her upset on what was supposed to be a happy morning. Before he could figure out how to soften his words, she threw her arms around his neck with renewed enthusiasm.
"You are right, and I am sorry!" she declared with the sort of dramatic emotional pivot that seemed characteristic of her personality. "I will not spy on you anymore—unless you give me explicit permission to observe for educational purposes, which you do not 'ave to do but which would be very generous if you did!"
Harry found himself hugging her back, marveling at how quickly he'd become accustomed to this sort of easy physical affection that the Delacour family offered so freely. The Dursleys had trained him to believe that touch was either punishment or something to be avoided entirely, but Gabrielle's enthusiastic embraces carried nothing but genuine affection and excitement.
"How about this," he suggested, keeping his voice gentle as he pulled back to look at her properly. "If Fleur and I reach any significant relationship milestones that we think would be educationally appropriate to share, we'll tell you about them. That way you can continue your research without invading our privacy. Deal?"
Gabrielle's face lit up like someone had just offered her unlimited access to a magical library. "Really? You would share relationship development data with me voluntarily? 'Arry, zat is ze best birthday present you could possibly give me!"
"It's my birthday, not yours," Harry pointed out with amusement. "Shouldn't I be receiving presents rather than giving them?"
"Zen consider it an early birthday present for my next birthday, which is not until December but which I am already planning extensively," Gabrielle replied with the sort of logic that made perfect sense to her and absolutely none to anyone else.
The sound of approaching footsteps drew their attention down the corridor, where Apolline emerged from the staircase with the sort of graceful purpose that suggested she'd been expecting to find exactly this scene playing out. She wore an elegant morning dress in deep blue that complemented her Veela coloring, and her expression mixed maternal warmth with barely contained amusement at her daughters' antics.
"Bon matin, mes enfants," she said, her accented English carrying the musical quality that made even simple greetings sound like poetry. "I see ze birthday celebrations 'ave already begun, complete with Gabrielle's traditional enthusiasm and what I suspect was Fleur's less traditional sleeping arrangements."
Fleur had the grace to look slightly embarrassed, though her posture remained confident. "Papa gave 'is permission, Maman. I maintained completely appropriate behavior throughout."
"I know 'e did, ma chérie, and I trust zat you did," Apolline replied with the sort of knowing smile that suggested she'd been fully informed about the entire situation. "Though perhaps in ze future, you might mention your intentions to me as well? I am still your mozzer, and I would prefer not to discover zese things secondhand from your sister's enthusiastic research reports."
Gabrielle had the decency to look guilty at that observation. "I may 'ave mentioned to Maman at breakfast yesterday zat I was conducting longitudinal studies of mate recognition behaviors," she admitted. "Which possibly included references to Fleur's stated intention to be present for 'Arry's birthday morning."
Harry felt his embarrassment deepen at the realization that apparently everyone in the family had been aware of Fleur's plans except him. "So this was... discussed? In advance? By everyone?"
"Bien sûr," Apolline said as though this should have been obvious. "We are Veela, 'Arry. Discussions of mate recognition, appropriate intimacy, and relationship development are as natural to us as discussions of weather or dinner plans might be in other families. Though I understand zat for you, coming from ze Dursleys' household, such openness must seem rather extraordinary."
"That's one word for it," Harry muttered, though he was beginning to appreciate the family's frank approach to topics that would have been completely taboo in his previous life. There was something refreshing about people who treated biological attraction and emotional connection as normal rather than shameful.
Apolline moved closer, placing gentle hands on his shoulders and studying his face with the sort of maternal assessment that looked for signs of distress or discomfort. "Are you all right with 'ow ze morning 'as progressed? If Fleur's presence made you uncomfortable, or if Gabrielle's enthusiasm is overwhelming—"
"No," Harry interrupted quickly, surprised to realize he meant it completely. "It's different from anything I've experienced before, but not bad different. Just... new. And honestly, waking up knowing that people care enough to want to celebrate my birthday is already the best present I could ask for."
The admission made something in Apolline's expression soften even further, and she pulled him into a hug that carried the sort of maternal warmth Harry had only ever experienced in dreams about his mother.
"You deserve so much more zan zat, mon cher," she murmured against his hair. "You deserve to be celebrated not just on your birthday, but every single day. You deserve a family who sees your worth, who recognizes your extraordinary nature, who loves you simply because you are you."
Harry felt his throat tighten with emotion that threatened to spill over into tears he hadn't let himself cry in years. Something about Apolline's words, combined with the genuine affection radiating from Fleur and Gabrielle, created a perfect storm of feeling that overwhelmed his usual defenses.
"Thank you," he managed, his voice rough with suppressed emotion. "All of you. For making me feel welcome here, for helping me with my transformation, for just... for treating me like I matter."
"You do matter," Fleur said firmly, moving to join the group hug with Gabrielle immediately following suit. "You matter to us, to your friends at 'Ogwarts, to your godfather who 'as been fighting to return to you. You 'ave always mattered, 'Arry—some people simply failed to recognize it."
They stood there for a long moment, the four of them wrapped in an embrace that felt like family in ways Harry had never quite experienced. His enhanced senses catalogued everything—Apolline's gentle strength, Fleur's warmth pressed against his side, Gabrielle's enthusiastic squeezing, and the overall sense of belonging that made his transformed magical core hum with contentment.
Eventually, Sebastian's voice drifted up from the ground floor, carrying amusement and gentle authority. "If ze birthday boy and 'is admirers are quite finished with zeir emotional moment, breakfast is being served on ze terrace, and I 'ave something zat requires 'is immediate attention."
The group separated with varying degrees of reluctance, and Harry found himself being ushered down the elegant staircase by an entourage of Delacour women who seemed determined to ensure he didn't miss a single moment of celebration.
The château's main terrace had been transformed into something that looked like it belonged in a high-end resort rather than a private home. White linen tablecloths draped elegant tables that overlooked the Mediterranean, crystal glasses caught the early morning sunlight and scattered rainbows across the stone flooring, and the spread of food would have been appropriate for feeding a small army rather than a single birthday boy.
But it was the letter propped against his place setting—sealed with what looked like wax pressed with a thumbprint rather than a proper seal, addressed in handwriting that was simultaneously elegant and slightly rough, as though the writer's hand had been out of practice—that immediately captured Harry's complete attention.
Sebastian stood beside the table, his expression mixing gentle understanding with barely contained anticipation. "Zat arrived by special Ministry owl last night, just after midnight. Your godfather wanted to ensure you received it first thing on your birthday morning."
Harry's hand trembled slightly as he reached for the letter, the weight of it somehow more significant than mere parchment and ink should be. This was from Sirius Black. From the man James and Lily had chosen to raise him, who had spent twelve years imprisoned for loving Harry's parents too much to betray them, who was currently fighting for exoneration and the right to reclaim his place in Harry's life.
"Should I..." Harry looked around at the assembled Delacours, suddenly uncertain whether this was something he should read privately or share with the people who had become his found family.
"Whatever feels right to you," Apolline said gently. "If you wish privacy, we will give it gladly. If you would prefer company while you read it, we are 'ere."
Harry considered for a moment, then settled into his chair with the letter held carefully in both hands. "Stay. Please. I think... I think I'd like you all here for this."
As the Delacours arranged themselves around the breakfast table—Fleur beside him, Gabrielle bouncing in her chair with barely contained excitement, Sebastian and Apolline taking positions across from them—Harry broke the seal and unfolded the parchment with hands that were steadier than he'd expected.
The handwriting was distinctive—flowing and confident despite obvious signs that the writer had been out of practice. Elegant in the way that suggested aristocratic education, but with enough character to avoid seeming pretentious. Harry took a deep breath and began to read, his enhanced vision making it easy to process the words even as emotion threatened to blur his sight.
By the time he reached the postscript about the Marauders' pranks specifically designed for thirteenth birthdays, Harry realized he was crying—not the desperate, hopeless tears of his childhood, but the sort of overwhelming emotion that came from finally understanding what it meant to be genuinely wanted by someone who had every right to resent his existence.
"'E loves you very much," Fleur said softly, her hand finding his under the table and squeezing gently. "Even through twelve years of separation and suffering, 'is first thought is of you and 'ow to begin building ze relationship you both deserve."
Harry nodded, not trusting his voice quite yet. He read the letter again, then a third time, memorizing every word, every promise, every acknowledgment of the love that should have defined his entire childhood but had been stolen by betrayal and false accusations.
"When can I meet him?" Harry asked finally, looking up at Sebastian with something approaching desperation. "After the trial, I know, but... how long? When will he be free?"
Sebastian's smile carried satisfaction and certainty. "Two weeks, if everything proceeds as expected. Ze evidence is overwhelming, ze political pressure is substantial, and ze Ministry knows zat failure to provide justice will damage British magical standing on ze international stage. Your godfather will stand before ze Wizengamot, 'e will be exonerated, and zen..."
"Zen 'e will come 'ere," Apolline completed gently. "To meet you properly, to begin building ze relationship 'is letter promises, to finally fulfill ze role your parents intended for 'im."
Harry stared down at the letter again, at handwriting that belonged to someone who loved him, who had fought for him, who had spent twelve years in hell rather than give up hope of reunion.
"Two weeks," he whispered, the words both impossibly long and wonderfully short. "I can wait two weeks."
"And in ze meantime," Gabrielle announced with renewed enthusiasm, clearly deciding that enough time had been devoted to emotional moments, "we 'ave your birthday to celebrate! Papa 'as arranged for a special beach party zis afternoon, Maman 'as commissioned a cake zat apparently requires architectural engineering to remain stable, and I 'ave prepared a comprehensive list of activities zat I believe you will find both enjoyable and educationally enriching!"
The shift from profound emotion to Gabrielle's characteristic exuberance made Harry laugh despite the tears still tracking down his cheeks. "A comprehensive list of activities? Should I be concerned?"
"Absolutely!" Gabrielle replied cheerfully. "Some of zem might involve minor explosions, but zat is simply part of ze fun!"
"Gabrielle," Sebastian said with the sort of patient authority that suggested this was an ongoing conversation, "we discussed zis. No explosions without proper supervision and safety protocols."
"I said MINOR explosions, Papa! Zere is a significant difference!"
As the family dissolved into cheerful bickering about appropriate birthday activities and the relative safety of various magical experiments, Harry folded Sirius's letter carefully and tucked it into his pocket where he could feel its weight against his chest.
Two weeks until he met his godfather. Two weeks until the family he'd always deserved finally became reality rather than fantasy.
And in the meantime, he had this—the Delacours' warmth and acceptance, Fleur's developing affection, Gabrielle's enthusiastic friendship, and the knowledge that somewhere in Britain, a man he'd never met was fighting with everything he had to reclaim the right to love him.
Harry Potter's thirteenth birthday was shaping up to be the best day of his entire life, and it had barely begun.
---
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