A/N: Here's the new Chapter! Which also means the next FIVE chapters are up on my for early access as well as the chance to vote on the direction of the story!
Fleur wakes up and meets Death.
-x-X-x-
When Fleur wakes up, she feels more well-rested than she has in years. But then to be fair, that's the difference between sleeping in silk sheets on a proper mattress and curling up in a threadbare cot. Groaning, Fleur doesn't even open her eyes at first, just stretching out and feeling the pure sensation of comfort along every part of her body.
Truthfully, she thinks she's dreaming at first. And then everything comes back to her and her eyes snap open as she shoots up in the bed, staring around herself wildly.
This… this was her bedroom. She hadn't seen it in seven years now of course, but this was HER bedroom from Chateau Delacour back… back in France. How had she gotten here? It had not all been a dream, Fleur knew that much, but still… had the Wizard Lord sent her home? She hadn't even gotten the chance to properly thank him or-!
The door to the room suddenly opens up, causing Fleur to blink as a strange woman bustles in. Long black hair, a beautiful hourglass figure, an all black dress, and deathly pale skin… and yet, the woman is rocking the look all the same.
She smiles with dark red lips when she sees Fleur is awake.
"Ah. Already back with the living, I see."
A shiver runs down Fleur's back at the word 'living'. Somehow, coming from this woman's lips, it feels almost… unnatural.
"Wha-… where am I, exactly? Who are you?"
Looking around them, the woman lets out a low sigh and tsks gently as she shakes her head. Striding over, she sits on the edge of the bed next to Fleur, smiling at her.
"Master always has been quite… extra. It would seem he plucked this vision directly from your memories, thinking that waking up to something familiar would help… ease you back into things. But I can already tell that it's only made you feel more strangely."
Fleur swallows thickly, eyes darting around the room again. The wizard… Harry he'd called himself… he MADE this straight from her memories? That sort of power… but no, she couldn't exactly say it didn't make sense. After all, this was the same man who had killed half a dozen goblins wearing runic armor down in the depths of Gringotts, before using completely controlled Fiendfyre to destroy Fleur's magical contract.
When she thought about it like that, him peering into her mind, while perhaps a little violating, and then using her memories to recreate her childhood bedroom… well, it sort of lined up, didn't it?
"You can call me Dee, darling. I'm a familiar of sorts to the one you know as 'Harry'."
'Dee'. Right. Okay, sure. A familiar? On the one hand, Fleur had noticed the other woman calling Harry 'Master'. On the other hand, she didn't know of many wizard's familiars who took the form of buxom, beautiful femme fatales like this one. Trying to ignore their surroundings, Fleur instead focuses on the incredibly beautiful pale witch sitting with her.
"Why… why are you here?"
"I'm just here to make sure you're alright. Master felt bad when he made you faint. And he imagined you would do better with a friendly feminine face when you finally woke up."
Well, that was thoughtful of him. Just as Fleur could sort of see how recreating her bedroom was somewhat thoughtful of him as well. Getting past the privacy issues in short order, Fleur can't help but feel… beholden to the Wizard Lord. He'd done so much for her in such a short amount of time. How was she ever supposed to repay him? How-
Fleur jolts, her eyes widening as she remembers something very, very important.
"Dee. I need to speak with your Master immediately. It's a matter of life and death."
Dee's plush, dark red lips curl up into something of a smirk at that, her dark eyes glittering with some unspoken joke. But she nods all the same and rises from the bed, beckoning for Fleur to follow her. So… Fleur does.
-x-X-x-
Harry might have gone a little overboard back at Gringotts. Oh, he didn't regret any of the actions he'd taken against the goblins of course. They were just like they'd been in every version of his world where he'd ever had to interact with them. Maybe one day he would run into the 'actual good guy goblins', but that day was not today.
However, he had to admit… he developed something of a flair for the dramatic when he had an audience. Especially if that audience was a beautiful woman like Fleur Delacour. It was admittedly a character flaw of Harry's dating all the way back to his original life. What had started as a 'Saving People' thing had dulled over the years, but the one area in which it became stronger than ever before was whenever he found himself face to face with a damsel in distress.
And Merlin help him, Fleur checked every single box imaginable for that. She was a woman trapped in a bad situation. And even if a quick check of her memories had confirmed the situation was at least partially of her own making, it still didn't change the fact that she'd been the victim of classic entrapment. Harry hadn't been willing to let that stand.
Still… he probably could have stood to be a little more considerate after they'd finally left Gringotts and arrived here at the old Potter Ancestral Manor. Because burning Fleur's contract up with Fiendfyre, while a lovely touch, had clearly been the straw that broke the camel's back.
All in all, Harry has every intention of apologizing to the poor veela when he finally sees her again. Unfortunately, he doesn't get the chance. The moment that Death leads her into the room where he's resting, Fleur all but rushes her words out.
"Lord Hallows! You're in grave danger!"
Raising an eyebrow (and noticing the way Death still wearing Morticia's face quirks the corner of her mouth up at the unintentional pun) Harry rises from his chair.
"Ms. Delacour. I hope you slept well. Please remember to call me Harry, seeing as I don't hold your contract anymore."
Fleur stops in her tracks, blinking as she's reminded of what happened before she fainted the night prior. It's the next morning now, though Harry isn't sure whether she actually knows that or not.
"I… o-only if you promise to call me F-Fleur then."
Oh? How bold. Harry grins and nods.
"It would be my pleasure… Fleur."
She shudders at that and Harry tries not to focus too much on the way certain parts of her body move in the moment. He wasn't here to take advantage of a woman who had just escaped indentured servitude to goblins… no matter how ethereally gorgeous she was.
"Please Fleur, breakfast has been prepared for us in the dining room. Why don't we go and eat and you can tell me all about this 'grave danger' over the meal?"
Fleur bites her lower lip, glancing between him and Death for a moment.
"I'm not sure if we have the time to-!"
But then her own stomach betrays her, gurgling loud enough to be heard in the otherwise silent room. Fleur blushes hard and Harry has to hold back the urge to laugh. Instead, he just continues smiling as he beckons for her to follow him to the dining room just down the hall.
They sit down together at the small table laden with foodstuffs, Harry easily and Fleur with a bit more hesitance. He doesn't bother waiting for her though, just piling up his plate and starting to eat. After a moment, Fleur does the same though much more carefully… and she barely chews and swallows her first bite before beginning to explain.
Apparently, the British Wizarding World is cursed and those of his gender have been dropping like flies for almost a decade now, the past eight years. The number of wizards still alive at this point in time, in the year 2002, are shrinking more and more.
Fleur even thinks the death toll might be as high as nine in ten of all wizards in the British Isles by this point, apparently, though she also tells him that she can't say for sure because she's been all but trapped in Gringotts ever since the death of her fiancé.
And wasn't that rather sad to learn. Harry couldn't exactly claim to have ever been close to Bill Weasley, not in any of his many lives, but he'd certainly had a close relationship with the Weasley Clan as a whole across multiple worlds. And if nine in ten wizards truly were dead, just how many of the Weasley Men were still kicking… if any?
Harry's eyes move over to Death as Fleur continues her explanation of what's been going on in the Wizarding World this past decade. Judging by the small smirk on the borrowed features of Morticia Addams, Death already knew about all of this. Hell, she'd pretty much told him hadn't she?
There was no one who could truly challenge him here… but plenty of entertainment to be had all the same. His eyes narrow at that as he considers the ramifications of a world where so many of one gender are dead. What would that sort of Magical Britain even look like?
"… That's why… I think you should leave the country as soon as possible, Harry. Today, even."
Pulled from his thoughts, Harry looks back to see Fleur staring at him earnestly from across the dining table.
"Whatever… whatever has been killing wizards here in Britain, I don't believe it's reached the rest of the magical world yet. Mainland Europe should be safe and with your wealth you could set up anywhere you wanted. Hell, come with me to France and I am confident when I say House Delacour will do everything in our power to make you feel welcome. My mother will be over the moon to hear that I've been freed from my contract."
Harry hums. He appreciates Fleur's candor… and her concern as well. But truth be told, he has no intentions of leaving Britain. Not when his curiosity has now been officially… piqued. In the end, he gives the veela woman a fond smile.
"I appreciate the offer Fleur, but I'm afraid I'll have to decline. This is where I'm meant to be and thanks to you, I know that now."
Fleur's face falls in distraught disbelief.
"But… but you'll die. The killing doesn't discriminate. Its killed Wizard Lords a plenty. It even killed Albus Dumbledore! Harry please…"
Albus… that was pretty surprising, truth be told. Harry had to wonder how accurate that part really was. Had whatever was killing off the wizards really gotten Dumbledore? Or had the old Headmaster gone and gotten himself killed in some other way, such as perhaps putting on a certain ring while horcrux hunting?
No matter. Harry just shakes his head and reaches across the table, taking Fleur's hand in his own and giving it a comforting squeeze since she looks like she's about to start crying. She freezes at his touch but doesn't try to pull her hand away as he smiles at her.
"You don't need to worry about me, Fleur Delacour. It will take a lot more than just some curse to put me down. And besides, maybe I'll figure out what's going on and put a stop to it myself. Wouldn't that be fun?"
It was interesting on the face of it. The 'mystery'. Harry had no idea what was going on… as far as he could tell though, there wasn't actually some massive man-killing magical curse cast over the British Wizarding World or anything like that. He's confident he would be able to feel it if there was, especially since he's a lot more in tune with death magic than most these days. Has been for centuries…
That means there's something more subtle going on here, something that Harry thinks Death has probably specifically set him up to be able to get to the bottom of. Which is why when he says 'wouldn't that be fun?' he's not even being facetious. He actually means it.
Fleur though… well, she just stares at him for a long moment in disbelief, like she can hardly believe her ears. Harry feels a little bad, even as he leans back in his chair and smiles crookedly.
"I suppose now isn't the best time to offer you a job, is it? But then, I should have figured that out from context clues alone. No, you'll be wanting to go home and see your family again. I'm happy to make you a portkey as soon as you want it Fleur, so you can get to your mother as fast as possible."
It wouldn't be particularly difficult. Hell, Harry could just apparate them both from here to Chateau Delacour in a split second if he really wanted to. He knew the place well from previous lives and ignoring certain laws against apparating across country borders without the proper permits, Harry had more than enough power to make the journey with a single passenger.
But no, he'd stick to making Fleur a portkey because at this point he could tell he was a bit too much for the poor woman. Better to just let her go and be happy else-
"What kind of job?"
Oh? Harry blinks, raising an eyebrow as Fleur suddenly has this determined glint in her eye.
"Pardon?"
"You were going to offer me a job. What kind of job?"
He'd… not thought as far ahead as he probably should have on that front. Honestly, he just didn't want to leave Fleur in the lurch without any form of support, financial or otherwise. But now that she's asking, the answer comes quickly enough.
"Assistant. You would be my personal assistant slash secretary. I don't quite know what my ventures here in Britain will look like going forward, but I do know that I'll need some help navigating things. That's where you would come in, Ms. Delacour."
Since this is now an impromptu interview of sorts, he reverts to a more formal address. Fleur straightens up and squares her shoulders, nodding decisively.
"And exactly what else do I need to do to secure the job, Lord Hallows?"
Harry's lips thin out as he considers Fleur Delacour for a long, silent moment. She's serious about this… and he can easily guess why too. She feels beholden to him, like she owes him something for what he's done for her. Never mind that he hadn't done anything that he'd done for a 'reward' of any sort.
Still…
-x-X-x-
The Vote:
[X] Harry is still willing to offer Fleur the job, but she should at least think on it for the day - 94%
[ ] Harry second guesses offering Fleur a job, she should really go home and be with her family - 6%
-x-X-x-
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