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Harry Potter and the Second Chance - Chapter 74 - The Perfect Evening
🕑 Added 2025-06-23 20:34:39 +0000 UTCHarry straightened up as he stepped out of the green-glowing fireplace and into a familiar, dimly lit drawing room of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. He brushed soot off his jacket, coughing lightly and wrinkling his nose at the always-acrid smell of Floo powder. The room was quiet, save for the creak of old wood under his boots. However unlike his previous visit there was no dust dancing in the air, apparently the room having received a thorough cleaning. Before he could take more than a couple steps into the room, the fireplace behind him flared again.
He began to turn, prepared to officially welcome either Hermione or Fleur into his godfather’s house. But before he could do more than smile at the sight of Hermione, a familiar voice rang out from the hallway, grumbling irritably.
"I may have been forced to hold this Merlin-forsaken event, but so help me, I meant what I said when I threatened to hex the next Ministry idiot who wanted to show up early and provide speaking notes for …”
Sirius Black rounded the corner mid-rant and skidded to a stop.
He blinked. “Oh … Harry!”
A grin broke across his face, transforming the tired, sarcastic expression into one of pure, startled joy.
Harry grinned. “Hey, Sirius.”
Behind him, the fireplace flared again, and Fleur stepped into the room joining Hermione and himself. As both girls dusted themselves off, Hermione looked over and gave Harry a bright smile before glancing around the room curiously, while Fleur’s sharp eyes scanned the room with cool interest.
Sirius’s eyes flicked between the two girls. “And …” he began, his tone suddenly tinged with teasing curiosity.
Harry laughed. “Of course, you remember Hermione.”
Sirius’s face warmed instantly as he crossed the room to greet her. “Miss Granger. I apologize for not instantly recognizing you in that dress. Thank you, for everything you did at the Ministry.”
Hermione flushed slightly. “It was nothing, really. I just wanted to help Harry.”
“Still,” Sirius said, nodding solemnly, “you didn’t have to. But you did. And to me that means everything.”
“And this,” Harry said, gesturing toward the tall, elegant girl beside Hermione, “is Fleur Delacour.”
Sirius raised a curious eyebrow and gave Harry the briefest of amused smirks before turning his full attention to Fleur. He extended his hand gallantly. “Mademoiselle Delacour, it is an absolute delight to have you in my home.”
Fleur, graceful as ever, took his hand lightly, her voice warm. “Merci. It is an ‘onour to be in the ‘ome of ‘arry’s godfather, I was delighted to see the news that you are a free man.”
Sirius paused, his eyes shifting to the wall beside them as if trying to pluck a memory from the air. He snapped his fingers. “Delacour … by chance, are you related to Jean-Luc Delacour?”
Fleur’s expression brightened. “But of course! Jean-Luc is my papa.”
Sirius let out a surprised, genuine laugh. “Then it’s doubly nice to meet you. I met your father when I was younger … at a rather insufferable Black family event in France, that certain influential French wizards and witches had also been invited to. He was a couple of years older than me, but he was incredibly kind. Nicer than any of my own family, that’s for sure.”
He paused, the smile slipping a bit as something more distant crept into his eyes. “In fact, he was one of the reasons I …” He cut himself off with a small shake of the head. “That’s a story for another time.”
Fleur tilted her head, smiling with genuine warmth. “Papa is still the same. They are planning to attend the event tonight but I will make sure to tell him that you remembered him.”
Sirius gave a nod before turning back to Harry, his mood lightening once more. “Well, now that the formalities are out of the way, it’s bloody good to see you, kid.”
Harry stepped forward and wrapped Sirius in a tight hug. “It’s good to see you, Sirius. I spent all week worrying that I had dreamed the entire thing but I’m glad that you’re free now.”
Sirius didn’t say anything at first. He hugged Harry back, one hand gripping his godson’s shoulder tightly. When Harry stepped back, he looked up to see Sirius blinking rapidly, trying to discreetly brush moisture from the corners of his eyes.
Harry smiled softly. “Now that you’re free, maybe we can finally make that plan of you living with me come true. I bet my parents would have loved that.”
Sirius chuckled, voice thick. “Well … I certainly think James would’ve liked that idea.”
Harry tilted his head. “But you don’t think my Mum would have?”
That finally made Sirius bark out a real laugh. He threw his head back and shrugged. “Your dad might’ve liked it for sure, but your mum?” He winked. “I have a sneaking suspicion that a common recurring nightmare for her was the possibility of having me as a guardian and role model for her child?” He gave Hermione an exaggerated look of mock horror. “Can you imagine?”
Harry laughed, and Hermione smothered a giggle behind her hand.
“I always had this strange feeling she found me slightly … immature,” Sirius added with faux confusion. “Not sure why that was, though.”
Just then, the door to the drawing room opened again. A familiar voice, dry and fond, cut in.
“You know damn well why she thought that, Sirius Black.”
Mary McDonald entered with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.
“But you also know she loved you like a brother,” she added, crossing the room with confident steps to stand beside him.
Sirius turned, grinning. “Mary.” He stepped forward and kissed her cheek. “How long have you been listening?”
“Long enough to catch the self-pity and skip the dramatics,” she replied smoothly.
He chuckled. “Some things never change.”
As Mary McDonald caught sight of Harry and Hermione, her expression softened immediately. Without a word, she moved quickly and enveloped them both in a warm embrace. Hermione was slightly startled but returned the hug without hesitation, and Harry smiled as he hugged her back.
“Thank you,” Mary whispered, her voice tight with emotion as she leaned in. “Thank you for what you did for Sirius. For giving him back his life.”
She stepped back after a moment, her eyes shimmering but her smile firm. “Truly,” she said louder this time, “thank you.”
Sirius watched the moment with a quiet fondness as Mary turned toward Fleur, her lips twitching with playful reproach. “And excuse my companion’s bad manners,” she said, casting a sideways glance at Sirius, “for not introducing his guest.”
That made Sirius let out a loud bark of laughter, joined by Harry, Hermione, and Fleur. Sirius held up his hands in mock surrender. “You hardly gave me a chance. Mary, this is Fleur Delacour. She’s ... Harry’s ... friend.” He exaggerated the word friend with a mischievous waggle of his eyebrows.
Harry rolled his eyes, but Fleur stepped forward with poise and grace. “It is very nice to meet you, Mary,” she said warmly.
Mary offered her hand, clearly impressed by Fleur’s composure. “And you, Fleur. Any friend of Harry’s and Hermione’s is certainly welcome here. Especially if you’re willing to put up with this one.” She jabbed a thumb at Sirius, who grinned shamelessly.
Mary glanced between Sirius and Harry, then to Hermione and Fleur. “I imagine Sirius might like a moment alone with his godson,” she said casually, though her eyes twinkled. “Would you two be willing to join me in the next room for a bit? I can get you something to drink or a small bite to eat, if you’d prefer.”
Hermione and Fleur exchanged glances, and then both turned to Harry. He gave them a small nod, and they smiled and followed Mary out of the drawing room, their soft voices trailing behind them as the door swung shut.
Sirius clapped Harry on the shoulder and gestured for him to follow. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s talk somewhere a little more comfortable.” He led Harry down the hall into the Black family library, which looked surprisingly well-kept compared to how Harry remembered it. The oppressive atmosphere remained, but the dust and grime was gone, and the shelves had been reorganized.
Sirius sank into one of the armchairs with a sigh and motioned for Harry to take the one opposite. “So,” he began, his expression turning sly, “a Veela. You weren’t joking.”
Harry let out a bark of laughter. “She’s just a friend of mine. Of ours, really, me and Hermione.”
Sirius raised both eyebrows. “A friend, huh? Well, I don’t remember ever having friends who looked at me like the way she was looking at you when you weren’t looking.”
Harry opened his mouth in protest or argue, only for Sirius to raise a hand and smirk knowingly.
“I mean, come on, Harry. You’re telling me there’s nothing there?”
Harry closed his mouth, huffed, and then muttered, “It’s not like that.”
Though he couldn’t admit that deep down some part of him had at least thought about it.
Sirius shrugged, clearly unconvinced. “If you say so. Cause as everyone knows, teenage boys are known for their incredible insight and emotional clarity.”
Harry gave a sarcastic laugh.
Sirius chuckled and shrugged. “So, what can you tell me about this girl … friend of yours?”
Harry groaned. “You’re impossible.”
Sirius only grinned wider as he looked at Harry without saying anything, and Harry finally relented. “She’s smart. Competitive. A bit proud at times, but she’s ... a good person. We’ve gotten to know each other better since the Second Task after I saved her sister. She’s the only one I’ve met who seems to enjoy flying as much as me. She’s more than just ... y’know, the glamour. There’s a lot more under the surface.”
Sirius nodded as a chuckle escaped. “Ya it’s clear she is only a friend …” he trailed off with a smile on his face. However before Harry could respond he looked back to Harry with a more serious expression on his face. “Sounds like you respect her though.”
“I do,” Harry said simply.
“Well, that’s a good start,” Sirius said, stretching back in the chair and clasping his hands behind his head. “Just don’t let anyone tell you who you’re supposed to be with. Or not be with.”
Harry tilted his head, curious. “Is that what happened with you?”
Sirius gave a short laugh but didn’t answer. He glanced out the dusty library window. “Anyway,” he said, changing the subject, “enough about your mysterious romantic life. Let’s talk about mine.”
Harry grinned. “You have one?”
“Not really … at least not yet,” Sirius quipped. “But I’m free now. So only a matter of time.”
His face turned a little more solemn. “Honestly, I still can’t believe it. I wake up every morning and it takes a few minutes before I’m sure that I’m not still on the run from the Ministry. There’s this ... weight that takes a while to shake.”
Harry didn’t say anything, letting him speak.
Sirius looked around the library, his voice quieter now. “Twelve years, Harry. Cooped up. Cut off. Betrayed. Forgotten. I don’t really have a plan yet. But I know I won’t be caged again. Not by the Ministry, not by my past, and definitely not by this house.”
Harry nodded slowly. “You’ll figure it out.”
“Yeah,” Sirius said, blinking as though waking up from a dream. “Yeah, I will.”
After a few more minutes of talking, mostly Sirius telling a few half-remembered stories about his Hogwarts days and pranking the Slytherins, he looked at the clock on the wall and stood abruptly.
“Well,” he said with a grimace, “I better start getting ready. Otherwise Andromeda might …” he gave a dramatic shudder “and I quote, ‘drag me by the ear like I’m twelve’.”
Harry chuckled.
“Seriously, though,” Sirius said as he stepped toward the door, “she’s apparently this big-time Healer now. If she wanted to make whatever punishment she comes up with look like a tragic accident, she could probably pull it off.”
Harry raised his eyebrows.
“Just saying.” Sirius opened the door. “I’ll go get changed. You can go find the others or head down to the main sitting room, yeah?”
“Sure,” Harry said, getting to his feet.
As he made his way through Grimmauld Place, he couldn’t help but notice the difference. The house felt cleaner. Lighter. Like it had finally started to shed its centuries of gloom. It didn’t even smell as musty as it used to.
Even after the entire Weasley family had spent almost the full summer scrubbing every inch of the place, it had never felt this … alive.
He descended the staircase toward the main sitting room when he heard a loud crack.
Harry stopped dead in his tracks.
Standing right behind him on the stairs was Kreacher, his large bat-like ears drooping slightly, his expression unreadable. He didn’t speak. He just stared at Harry for several long seconds, as if searching him for something.
Harry gave a single nod.
“Kreacher,” Harry said softly, still gazing down at the wizened old house-elf, “It’s taken care of. Regulus’s last wish has been fulfilled.”
For a moment, Kreacher stood completely still, blinking up at Harry in silence. Then, without warning, his knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the staircase with a faint thump.
“Kreacher?” Harry said quickly, stepping forward and kneeling down beside him.
What he hadn’t expected was the quiet, choked sound coming from the elf. Kreacher’s bony shoulders trembled, his face hidden in his wrinkled hands. Harry realized, with a jolt of surprise, that the house-elf was crying.
“Kreacher,” he said again, more gently this time.
The elf looked up, and for a moment, Harry saw something in his eyes that struck him like a blow. Pain. Relief. Gratitude.
“Master Harry,” Kreacher rasped, reaching out with both hands and clasping one of Harry’s in a surprisingly strong grip. “Thank you. Thank you … thank you, thank you …”
He kept repeating it, over and over, his voice trembling and thin, his fingers clutching Harry’s hand as if it anchored him to the moment.
Harry didn’t know what to say. So he just held still, watching Kreacher.
Eventually he got to his feet and after a second’s pause he slowly bowed to Harry.
Not a mockery. Not begrudging. But deep, respectful.
Before Harry could respond, there was a sharp crack, and Kreacher Disapparated, vanishing with tears still streaking his face.
Harry slowly stood, blinking at the spot where the elf had just been. It felt like something had shifted. Something deeply rooted in the foundations of Grimmauld Place. And maybe it had.
He made his way down to the first floor, still thinking about Kreacher when he turned the corner and came to a complete stop.
The wall where Sirius’s mother’s portrait had once hung was gone.
Not just covered up or concealed but removed entirely. No dark velvet curtain, no frame, no screaming echoing down the hall. Just an open concept entrance where there had once been curses and howling.
Harry smiled.
Sirius really was reclaiming this place.
As he walked through the corridor, though, he paused briefly and tilted his head. Was that a faint shriek echoing from the door to the basement.
While he was unsure if it really was the sound of her screeching or just his imagination, he couldn’t help but smile at the thought of the portrait alone in the basement by itself.
Shaking his head, Harry continued into the den. The sound of quiet music floated in the background, something classical and relaxed. A punch bowl sat on a polished table alongside the wall, full of some glittering blue-ish drink. Harry poured himself a glass and sat down in an overstuffed chair, letting himself relax, confident the others would soon find him.
After a few minutes of peace, he heard voices approaching from the staircase laughing, warm, and familiar. The door opened, and Fleur, Hermione, and Mary entered, all smiles.
Mary’s eyes immediately shot up as she noticed Harry. “There he is,” she said with a chuckle. “Thanks for letting me borrow your dates, Harry.”
Harry was about to object before he shook his head and laughed. “Anytime.”
She walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder, her voice softening. “I hope your visit with Sirius went well.”
Harry nodded. “It did.”
Mary smiled, her expression touched with emotion. “Good. Because I meant what I said earlier—thank you. These past few days … it’s like he’s come back to life. I’m seeing signs of the old Sirius, signs I hadn’t seen before the Ministry. Maybe a little older, a little sadder, but still him. And I’m happy to have the old him back.”
At that moment, the door behind them opened again, and Sirius strolled in wearing a luxurious deep blue dress robe with silver trim. It looked like it had been tailored just for him, and it fit him perfectly.
Harry had to blink—Sirius actually looked … refined.
Sirius gave a dramatic sigh as he stepped in. “I still can’t believe you are happy to have the old me back,” he said to Mary. “Are you sure your taste in men shouldn’t be reevaluated?”
Mary shook her head with a roll of her eyes. “Oh, I know my taste exactly, thank you.”
Everyone laughed, and the room grew warmer with the sound of voices. They settled into easy conversation, sharing stories about Hogwarts, Hermione and Harry contributing from the present, while Sirius and Mary spun tales from their own mischief-filled days. There was something satisfying about the way the past and present blended in their banter.
And then suddenly the conversation died with the loud sound of a knock from the front door.
Sirius grumbled good-naturedly as he put down his drink. “Well sounds like people are starting to arrive,” he said eventually, “I suppose it was bound to happen. We couldn’t keep it just to ourselves forever.”
Indeed, the house began to fill quickly after that. It wasn’t long before Grimmauld Place, which had always seemed so dark and gloomy, was bustling with conversation, laughter, and the occasional knock on the door or sounds of someone falling to the floor as they arrived in the other room by Floo as witches and wizards continued to arrive.
Harry didn’t get much more time with Sirius after that. His godfather was surrounded constantly—by Ministry officials, old friends, and people who just wanted a chance to speak with him, to see him for themselves and judge if what they read could possibly be true.
And though part of Harry was disappointed he wouldn’t get another quiet talk, another story, he couldn’t help but feel a quiet joy watching Sirius laugh, joke, and throw his head back as if no one had ever locked him away in a prison for twelve years.
It was worth it.
Harry spent most of the evening in the company of Hermione and Fleur. The three of them moved together easily through the party, chatting with other students from Hogwarts and their parents, laughing over shared memories and stories, especially when some of the older individuals told them stories of a younger Sirius.
He spoke briefly with Susan Bones and her aunt. Susan grinned when she saw him. “Not bad for someone who just shook up the Ministry by standing up and getting justice for the Ministry’s Most Wanted?” She said as she looked at her aunt.
Harry chuckled, and Amelia, ever composed, shook her head at her niece before thanking Harry and Hermione once more for their memories.
A little later, he ran into Daphne Greengrass, who looked elegant in dark green dress robes. Her parents were with her—a tall, sharp-featured man and a regal-looking witch with silver-blonde hair and piercing grey eyes.
“We’ve heard all about the project you and our daughter are working on,” said Mr. Greengrass, offering Harry a handshake. “Impressive work.”
Mrs. Greengrass smiled politely. “Daphne speaks highly of your magical abilities.”
“Er, thanks,” Harry said, a little caught off guard.
Daphne rolled her eyes behind her parents’ backs, and Harry had to suppress a laugh before they finally moved on.
Then there was Luna, who floated into the room beside her eccentric father, Xenophilius, both of them wearing shimmering robes covered in runes and tiny golden snitches.
“Harry Potter!” Xenophilius cried happily, bowing with flair. “A pleasure to meet the young man my daughter tells me is both brave and shockingly normal for a Chosen One.”
“Er … thank you?” Harry offered, shaking his hand.
“It’s a compliment,” Luna assured him with a dreamy smile. “You smell trustworthy tonight.”
Before Harry could process that, Neville appeared with his formidable grandmother. She nodded approvingly at Harry.
“While no one has officially confirmed it, I have heard rumors that the driving force behind your godfathers trial was you,” she said with a rare smile. “Certainly you are quite the young man and your parents would be pleased with the man you’re growing into.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Longbottom,” Harry replied, a little sheepishly.
After exchanging pleasantries with Neville and his formidable grandmother, Harry made his way back toward the refreshment table. The room buzzed with energy—laughter, conversation, clinks of glasses, and the occasional flash of magic.
Balancing three glasses of the sparkling cider, Harry weaved through the guests, looking for Hermione and Fleur. He was about to turn the corner when he nearly collided with someone in silver-trimmed black dress robes almost spilling the three drinks.
“Careful …” Harry began, then froze.
Draco Malfoy.
To Harry’s even greater surprise, Draco didn’t sneer, didn’t insult him, didn’t even say a word. He just … nodded. A brief, curt nod. Civil. Maybe even respectful. And then he stepped around Harry and continued walking, his mother, Narcissa Malfoy, gliding right behind him like a pale, elegant ghost.
Harry turned, wide-eyed, watching them head straight toward Sirius.
Sirius was in the middle of a conversation with an incredibly old wizard who was leaning so heavily on a staff that it seemed to be holding him up rather than supporting him. Sirius, noticing the approaching figures, abruptly straightened. For a moment, his expression went completely still.
Then, with a smooth motion, Sirius excused himself politely from the elderly wizard and turned to face his cousin.
Harry could hardly believe what he saw next.
Narcissa Malfoy—cool, aristocratic, and proud—bowed her head. Just slightly, but unmistakably.
Harry’s jaw dropped.
It was clear from across the room that Sirius hadn’t expected it either. His eyebrows shot up in surprise, and for a second, he stared at her like she had suddenly sprouted wings and was about to take flight. But then, recovering swiftly, he nodded and gestured for Narcissa and Draco to follow him. He pointed toward one of the closed-off rooms at the end of the hall.
Curious, Harry began making his way across the room to follow them, moving slowly so as not to draw attention. But just before he could take more than a few steps, Sirius caught his eye and gave a very clear shake of the head.
Harry paused, frustration and curiosity battling in his chest.
He wanted to follow. He wanted to know what on earth was going on. But he also knew that look. Sirius wanted privacy. So Harry stopped, sighed quietly, and turned around.
Only to find himself face-to-face with the Weasleys.
“Harry!” Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, wrapping him in a firm, warm hug. “Oh, you look well, dear. Really well.”
“Thanks,” Harry said, smiling. Mr. Weasley gave him a solid pat on the shoulder causing most of the drinks to spill onto the floor, and Harry quickly greeted the rest—Fred and George grinning as usual, Percy looking stiff but polite, and Ron giving him a brief nod.
“If you’re looking for Sirius, he’s …” Harry hesitated. “Well, he’s in the middle of a … chat.”
Mr. Weasley chuckled knowingly. “Actually, we’re hoping to see his cousin.”
Harry blinked, remembering the sight of Narcissa bowing slightly before Sirius. “Cousin?”
Before he could say anything, Mr. Weasley nodded and continued, “We heard Andromeda Tonks was the driving force behind this event.”
Right. Andromeda … Ginny.
Harry’s stomach gave a guilty twist. He suddenly remembered that Andromeda had been the one to arrange for Ginny’s treatment. How had he forgotten?
“I saw her and her husband a little while ago,” he said quickly. “They were by the kitchen, talking with Professor McGonagall and a few people I think are from the Ministry.”
Mrs. Weasley lit up. “Wonderful! Come along, Arthur.”
“Thank you, Harry,” Mr. Weasley added as they all headed in that direction, Percy trailing dutifully behind.
Once they were out of earshot, Harry immediately turned to Ron and the twins. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve asked about Ginny earlier. With everything that has been happening this year … I didn’t think—”
“Don’t beat yourself up,” Ron said, but Fred jumped in cutting him off.
“She’s fine,” Fred said.
“Apparently much better than fine,” George added.
“Our parents get weekly updates,” Fred continued. “But that doesn’t stop Mum from worrying like …”
“… a nesting Crup with a wand up its backside,” George finished.
Harry gave a weak laugh, more from relief than amusement.
“In fact,” Fred said, “the last letter said there’s a chance she might come home to finish the year.”
“With treatments continuing from here,” George added.
“That got Mum absolutely … well, mum-like,” Fred said, eyes twinkling.
George nodded. “Hovering. Worrying. Smiling. Crying. All the stages.”
“That’s … amazing news,” Harry said quietly, feeling a sudden warmth rush through him as he looked from the twins towards Ron. “I didn’t realize she was doing that well.”
“Neither did we until that letter,” Ron said, grinning. “Thanks, mate. Really. You’re the reason she’s even getting that help.”
Harry looked down, embarrassed.
Just then, Fred and George suddenly perked up.
“Oi,” Fred said, nodding across the room. “Is that Lee?”
George grinned as he looked back to Harry and Ron. “Excuse us, we’ve got to talk to him about something we’re working on.”
“For school,” Fred added quickly, far too innocently.
Harry raised an eyebrow. “Right. School.”
As they turned, Harry stopped them. “Oi, if the two of you see Sirius later … ask him about Padfoot.”
The twins turned in perfect unison. “Padfoot?”
“Yeah,” Harry said with a sly grin. “Just … ask him.”
Their brows furrowed in confusion for a moment—then, recognition flashed in their eyes.
“You’re joking.”
Harry shrugged. “I would never.”
Fred and George exchanged wide-eyed, delighted looks before scanning the room eagerly.
“Oh, we will be finding him later,” Fred said with glee.
“Cheers, Harry,” George added as they made their way toward Lee.
Chuckling, Harry turned back to Ron, who looked a bit dazed.
“Sorry again for not asking sooner,” Harry said.
Ron shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. Seriously. We all know you’ve had a lot going on. And like I said, you’re the reason she’s getting better.”
He clapped Harry on the back. “You have no idea what that means to us. Thanks Harry.”
Harry offered him a grateful smile.
After talking with Ron for a couple minutes about what he had heard about Ginny’s recovery and grabbing two new drinks the two of them wandered through the crowded drawing room back toward the familiar voices of Hermione and Fleur. Harry spotted them near one of the open windows, the moonlight casting a silver glow over their features as they laughed about something. Fleur held a goblet of wine and gestured elegantly, and Hermione, sipping from a small glass, nodded with a warm smile.
“There you are,” Hermione said when she saw them approach. “Hi, Ron. It’s good to see you.”
“We thought you’d vanished, so we had to go grab out own drinks,” Fleur added teasingly.
“Bumped into the Weasleys and Ron and I were just … catching up,” Harry said, glancing at Ron.
“Yeah,” Ron said quickly. “And speaking of catching up—there’s Lavender. I promised I’d find her at some point tonight. Catch you all later.”
He ducked away with surprising speed, heading toward the blonde witch in a violet robe near the stairs.
“Smooth,” Harry muttered under his breath. Hermione smirked.
The three of them remained near the window, quietly chatting. They spoke about the evening, and talked about everyone they had seen. Fleur told a ridiculous story about a diplomatic dinner she had once attended with her father in Paris, where she saw the French Minister of Magic involved in a huge misunderstanding with a Portuguese wizard who was part of their National Quidditch team.
It was warm and peaceful, and the noise of the party eventually became background music to their own little bubble. But eventually, even they noticed that the room began to look a little less full.
And then finally a familiar voice echoed across the room.
“If I might have everyone’s attention,” Dumbledore said, stepping forward with a twinkle in his eye. “As I’m sure some of you have noticed … it is now, rather tragically, quite late.”
A few groans and laughs rolled through the crowd.
“For the Hogwarts students present who have not yet returned to the castle, the Floo Network is prepared for your return through the main fireplace. Professors Flitwick and Sprout will be accompanying the younger students, and Professor McGonagall is, of course, keeping count.”
There was a rustling of movement as students slowly began to trickle out of the room, no doubt heading towards the fireplace they had all arrived through.
“To everyone else,” Dumbledore continued, his eyes glinting with good humor, “you are more than welcome to remain and enjoy the rather generous—and dare I say impressive—selection of drinks that Mr. Black has so graciously decided to make available for this occasion.”
That earned a collective laugh. Even Sirius, who raised his glass dramatically, chuckled and gave a mock bow.
Slowly, as goodbyes were said with their families, the students began filing out of the room in twos and threes. Harry turned to say goodbye to a couple of recently graduated Hufflepuff students that he’d chatted with earlier when he his eyes settled on Sirius, speaking to Mary. Without thinking, he made his way over.
“Sirius!” he called.
Sirius looked up just in time for Harry to reach out for a handshake. But Sirius, laughing, ignored the extended hand and dragged him into a bear hug.
“You did it,” Harry said. “You’re free.”
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Sirius said, grinning. “Though I’m starting to wonder how long it’ll be before I’m begging for solitude again.”
Harry smiled before turning to Mary. “Good luck with him now that he’s officially a free man.”
Mary laughed. “Oh, I’m sure I’ll appreciate the well wishes. Trust me.”
Sirius feigned offense. “I have no idea what you are talking about, I’m charming. Ask anyone.”
“I think your opinion of yourself is the problem,” Harry said, grinning.
With a final hug and wave, Harry turned and made his way toward the fireplace where Hermione and Fleur were already waiting. With one last glance at the scene behind him, he stepped through the fireplace, green flames whirling him away.
--- HP --- SC --- HP --- SC --- HP --- SC --- HP --- SC --- HP ---
The trio stumbled, without falling, into the castle’s receiving fireplace, brushing soot off their robes. It was quieter here, with only a few students still waiting for the professors to lead them back to their dorms. Hermione reached for Harry’s hand, and together they walked with Fleur through the echoing corridors, out the great front doors, and toward the Beauxbatons carriage.
The night air was brisk, cool enough to raise goosebumps along Hermione’s arms, but she politely declined when he offered her his cloak.
In front of the carriage door, Fleur turned and faced them both. “Thank you,” she said, her voice quieter now. “For tonight. It was … perfect.”
Hermione stepped forward and hugged her, the two girls holding each other a little longer than expected as it appeared Fleur was whispering something to Hermione.
Then Fleur turned to Harry. “And you,” she said, her voice lilting slightly. “Merci, ‘arry.”
Before he could say anything, Fleur leaned in and kissed him softly on the lips.
It was warm, and gentle, and over in a moment, but the shock held him rooted in place.
Fleur pulled back with a slight, satisfied smile. “That was nice.”
Then, without another word, she turned and stepped inside the carriage, the door closing softly behind her.
Harry stood frozen, blinking, his mind racing to catch up.
He turned slowly to find Hermione watching him with a curious expression.
“I—I didn’t—she just—” he began, stammering helplessly.
Hermione laughed softly. “It’s okay, Harry.”
He blinked as he raised his eyebrow.
Hermione stepped closer and took his hand, her eyes studying his. “Do you like me, Harry?”
He opened his mouth, but no stammer came this time. “Of course I do, Hermione. It’s way more than just liking you.”
Hermione blushed, a gentle pink rising in her cheeks. She looked down at the ground, then back up at him with a brilliant smile. “Well then … I’m not concerned about Fleur.”
Harry tilted his head. “What? But—she just kissed me.”
“I know,” Hermione said. “And I can tell she likes you. It’s pretty obvious why she might. You are an amazing guy.”
Harry smiled as he nodded, still looking at her, waiting for her to continue.
“And honestly … I understand what a boy might like about Fleur.”
Harry shook his head and opened his mouth, but Hemione kept talking. “I mean, I’m not blind I know that she’s stunning.”
Harry frowned. “I don’t like Fleur because she’s a Veela.”
Hermione squeezed his hand. “And that’s why you’re perfect, Harry. You’re a good person. You care about people for who they are, not what they look like. That’s why Fleur likes you.”
Harry blinked at her. “Fleur likes me?”
Hermione just smiled knowingly and started walking.
Harry caught up quickly. “I don’t really think of her like that Hermione.”
She looked over to him and smiled before shrugging her shoulders. “I’m not concerned Harry, I know you care about me and I’m comfortable with that. But it’s getting late, maybe we can talk more about this tomorrow.”
Harry slowly nodded as he looked over at her. “For what it’s worth … I think you look incredible, Hermione.”
She leaned into him as they walked. “And that is just one of the reasons I really like you.”
She stopped them beneath the archway near the entrance to the castle and leaned in, kissing him gently on the lips. This kiss was deeper than Fleur’s—slower, more deliberate—and when she pulled back, her eyes sparkled.
“Mmm,” she said. “You taste even better than usual.”
Harry laughed, the tension melting from his shoulders as they entered the castle, hand in hand.
--- HP --- SC --- HP --- SC --- HP --- SC --- HP --- SC --- HP ---
Making their way up the stairs towards the common room Harry couldn’t help but think about what they were going to talk about tomorrow and couldn’t help but feel that his life was about to get a lot more complicated.
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Story Note 1 – Obviously Sirius still has a ways to go before he is feeling like a normal person but in between Harry and Mary and friends I would imagine he is in a good situation and will eventually get to a better place. Can’t imagine what a theoretical 12 years in Azkaban followed by over a year of being on the run could do to the psyche of someone. Luckily Sirius has his humor as common knowledge states that laughter is the best medicine.
Story Note 2 – This chapter for the most part was about giving Harry, Fleur, and Hermione time to hang out and spend time with each other. Getting to know each other and becoming closer.
Story Note 3 – Of course the Kreacher moment was important but wonder what Draco is up to? I can’t help but imagine that he might pop up later and that would have some significance on events going forward. Obviously slow played Draco but he is just a kid in this story who had a bad role model. And perhaps there is still some hope for him. I guess we shall see.
Story Note 4 – Ooo Fleur kissing Harry in front of Hermione and then Hermione’s reaction I’d have to admit that the next couple of chapters would be big for communication. I won’t just leave it as a tease and proceed to write about something entirely unrelated. Harry and Hermione will indeed have a conversation!
Story Note 5 – And of course the mention of Ginny will bear fruit. She will indeed make a reappearance!
Thanks to those of you out to those of you who enjoy my stories, I promise to keep updating the stories as long as you enjoy them, and a special thanks to those of you who have taken the time to leave feedback or reach out to me directly.
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Disclaimer – It has come to my attention recently that I unfortunately do not own Harry Potter. Who knew.
Comments
Paraskevas Psarakis
yeah,this feels weird it seems Harry has made up his mind so its kinda scummy from Hermione,if this was written more with Harry struggling with his feelings for both characters it could potentially work better.
gigamans
... I don't really understand why this three way relationship is being written like this. It's so grossly manipulative towards Harry. At least for me, this is not coming across the way you think it is. Like, just talk to Harry. It's not shown but Hermione is basically fooling around with Fleur for weeks at this point, to the point it's obvious to someone like Daphne (and she's dropping those hints in class, really great for Harry). And now they're pulling whatever this is, and Harry is the one feeling guilty? Hermione is literally cheating on him?! I'm sorry, I don't get this. It is ruining an otherwise great story. And the way you've written Harry all of this probably won't ever bother him, and it probably really should. Both Hermione and Fleur suck for what they're doing here, Jesus.
