Harry had struggled to focus. His head was pounding, his chest was constricted to the point that he felt like he couldn’t breathe, and his legs were struggling to hold him up. His mother’s words were screaming in his ears, but it hurt too much to hear them. She claimed that she was sorry, that she understood what she had done and that she wanted to fix things. Harry desperately wanted to cling to those words and believe them, but how could he? After everything, he didn’t know if he could believe in that.
He had fled when his mother had stopped talking. She had been sobbing, begging him to forgive her. But he couldn’t stand there and look at her. Harry had run from the room, desperate to getaway. As he left the sitting room, he went straight to the front door, but before he could pull it open, a warm hand stopped him.
Fleur appeared beside him, her hand taking him and the other reaching up to cup his face. Her hand caught his tears, and he could see her concern. She didn’t say anything; she just pulled him into her eyes.
Harry didn’t know how long they stood there. He buried his face into her shoulder, taking comfort in her touch and her warmth. At some point, she had led him into another room and had him sit on the couch. She had left him only for a minute before coming back and sitting beside him. He had wanted to ask why she had left, but she wrapped her arm around him and just let him hold her.
At some point, he had fallen asleep, and when he woke up on the couch, his head in her lap, he wanted to scoff at himself for being so weak. He could only imagine how his grandmother would berate him for weeping like a child and not holding himself together like a man would.
Fleur was running her fingers through his hair and seemed to be humming a soft tune. He didn’t know the song, but it was beautiful. Harry shifted on her lap and rolled over so that he could look up at her. Fleur’s features with sad, she was looking down at him, a small smile on her lips, but those blue eyes were worried.
“I’m sorry,” said Harry.
She shook her head and leant down to kiss his forehead. “Harry, no. Never be sorry for being sad.”
“Are they still here?” he asked.
Fleur nodded, knowing who he was speaking about. Harry didn’t know how long he had slept, but he didn’t think they would have left without him.
“Your mother, father and your professor are still in the sitting room.” She stroked his cheek. “Mister Snape provided that potion…” she nodded towards a vial on the coffee table “…and suggested that you should drink it upon waking.”
Harry sat up and looked at the bluish potion. “Calming draught.” He picked it up and uncorked it before taking it.
“Do you want to talk about what happened?” asked Fleur. She rubbed his shoulder.
Harry leant back on the couch and placed his arm over her shoulders. She slid into his embrace and nuzzled her nose against his chin.
Their morning together had been blissful. They had spent about an hour in the café, talking and kissing, before going into some of the muggle shops. Fleur had shown him her favourite book shop; they had purchased a few sweets from a bakery and had just enjoyed the morning. He found himself happier than he could ever remember, and for a few hours, he found himself forgetting about the hollow pain in his chest.
When they had returned back to the Delacour family home, and he had seen his parents along with Snape waiting for him, everything that he wanted to burry again came right back. His heart had crumbled to ash, and the bile in his stomach churned as his mother spoke to him.
Looking down at Fleur made him want to go back to their morning and forget. He lifted his hand to cup her chin and smiled at her. He remembered her taste and wanted to taste it again. Harry brought their lips together, and just like every other time, it felt right. He slid his hand to the back of her head to pull her closer, his tongue running along her mouth, wanting her to open up and let him in. Fleur didn’t deny him. Their tongues met, and a small groan fell from Harry. Her scent, her taste, it was enough to make him dizzy…make him forget.
Fleur pulled back from the kiss and smiled. Harry tried to pull her back in again, he was far from done tasting her, but she shook her head.
“Harry,” she whispered. Her hand cupping his face. “You can’t bury this.”
Harry closed his eyes and bit back his argument. He could try.
“I know you want to, but it won’t be good for you to try and act like nothing is wrong.” She leant their forehead’s together.
“I don’t know if I can,” he whispered. His words cracked, and fresh tears welled in his eyes. He was scared of what would happen if he faced all of this. Harry didn’t think he could take anymore, not now that everything was overwhelming him. “I’m scared.”
Fleur kissed him again. It was gentle and caring. “I will be there for you. You can write to me as often as you want. Papa even said that your home’s Floo is connected to ours, so we can see each other as often as you like.” Fleur leant back and smiled at him. “I know you can do this. And you owe it to yourself to try.”
Harry didn’t know. His normal clear mind would believe her and take it in. But everything was a mess. His heart was pounding in his chest, just from being with Fleur. His sudden attachment to her was thrilling but uncertain. The muddle of emotions linked to his mother and brother were suffocating and weighing him down. The uncertainty of what would happen scared him more than anything.
The last twenty-four hours had been easy to forget, to focus on the blonde-haired, blue-eyed beauty that had helped him and made him feel more relaxed than he had in years. Fleur’s laugh had tickled his insides, her smile was infectious, and her lips were dangerously addictive. But reality had smacked him right in the chest, and now he couldn’t pretend that he could hide away with Fleur forever; he couldn’t escape it anymore.
“Harry?”
He looked at her and saw her tensed brow. He stroked her face before leaning forward to kiss her again. “Thank you,” he said.
Not ten minutes later, Harry met his parents and Snape at the Floo entrance. Fleur held on tight to his hand, and without looking at his parents, he kissed her on the forehead before moving to Allard and shaking his hand. He gave a glance at his parents before taking the powder and returning home.
White Oak Manor was silence, and his footsteps on the marble floors echoed. He didn’t wait for his parents or Snape to come through; he walked out of the room towards the stairs. He wanted a shower and some fresh clothes.
As he climbed the stairs, he heard Snape call out to him. He paused and turned to see Snape watching him.
“Yes, Professor?” he asked.
“Harrison, I know I am probably the last person you want to listen to right now but take some advice from a man who has made many stupid mistakes,” said Snape.
Harry bit down his response. Snape was right, he didn’t want to talk to him or anyone, but he still listened.
“Your natural response is going to lock yourself away, don’t. Talk to your friends, talk to Carlisle. I know your father and mother desperately want you to open up to them, but if you can’t talk to them, then talk to Carlisle at least. It will help if you get it off your chest,” said Snape.
Harry looked at his professor and let the words sink in before saying, “I’ll see you on the first day of term, Professor.” He turned and continued on his way to his room.
He had told someone, he told Remus—yelled it at him—but that hadn’t helped. It ripped open his wounds. He had spoken to Fleur about it, not the whole truth, but some of it. He still felt torn, broken, hollow. Nothing would help; no one could.
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Lily had gone straight upstairs and climbed into her bed when she had returned home. The house was empty, and she had been thankful for that. Her heart was broken, and she didn’t want Harvey to see her in such a state. Harry truly hated her, and she knew it was her fault. All of her mistakes had led to this moment, and it felt worse than she had ever imagined anything could.
The anger, Harry’s broken eyes, the fears; it had all shown her how truly broken her son was, how lost he felt. She had wanted to pull him into her eyes and tell him that she could fix it, but Lily didn’t even know if she could.
Severus and Sirius had both tried to comfort her, tell her that he would open up sooner or later; they just couldn’t give up. And while she wanted to believe them, she wanted it to be true; Lily didn’t know if Harry would ever open his heart to her.
Lily pulled the comforter tighter around her and kept her face buried in her pillow. Her eyes were sore from crying, her cheeks sticky from dried tears, and her pillowcase was wet. She felt tired, and her body heavy, but her brain wouldn’t let her drift off.
She heard the door open and the sound of Harvey’s laughter. James had probably taken him out to distract him, but what would he say when he found her. Lily knew that James had his issues, and she understood them and his reason behind them, but she wasn’t going to let him use his issues to create more of a gap between her and Harry. She knew that it was one of the many things Harry hated her for. She should have never given Harry to Sirius full time, but she only did it for James, so she didn’t lose him.
The bedroom door swung open, and she spotted James. He paused, and she watched his face fall as he took in the sight of her. James closed the door before kicking his shoes off and climbing in the bed beside her.
He pulled her into his arms and kissed her head before whispering, “I’m sorry.”
The words broke her, and her aching eyes produced more tears. She grasped at his shirt and buried her face into his chest as she sobbed. “He hates me.”
James held her close, his hand rubbing her back. “Harry would never hate you.”
“He does,” she sobbed. “I choose my own happiness over the importance of my son, and all I did was push him away and make him believe that I regretted having him.”
James kissed her head again. She felt him let out a heavy sigh. He said, “If anyone is to blame, it's me.”
Lily pulled back slightly.
“I have been the selfish one.” He cupped her cheek. “You and Sirius made a mistake, neither of you would have ever intentionally hurt me the way you did, but I refused to ever let it go. I should have been able to forgive you properly and accept that Harry was a part of our family. Instead, I have done nothing but push the boy away.” His thump moved across, wiping her tears. “I’m sorry.”
Lily shook her head and sat up. “Don’t say that to me.”
James frowned. “What?”
“You’re telling me that you all of a sudden want to let your resentment go?” she snapped. “You have spent the last fifteen years making snide and rude comments about Harry and Sirius, and now you want to change?” Her voice grew louder with every word.
James sighed. “I’m admitting that I was at fault. Isn’t that a good thing?”
“I know you were at fault!” shouted Lily. She climbed out of bed and ran her fingers through her hair. “We both are. But it isn’t me who you should be apologizing to. It wasn’t me that you mocked or pushed aside; it was Harry.” She wanted to scream louder. “Because of your hatred for my son, I tried to make you happy so that maybe, just maybe, you would love my son. But instead, all that happened was that I fucked up and pushed my child away. I have destroyed any chance to get him back!” Lily grabbed the book that was sitting on her nightstand. “Because of you!” She threw the book at James, and he ducked as it flew over his head and hit the wall.
Lily didn’t want to look at him anymore. It was his fault! And hers. They had both ruined Harry’s life because they were selfish. She walked away from James and into the bathroom. She flipped the lock and slid down the door. She didn’t deserve Harry or even Harvey. They were both her responsibility, to raise and love, make sure that they felt safe in the world. But all she had done was ruin everything.
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White Oak Manor was quiet; the only sounds were of the crackling fire in the main sitting room. Sirius was laid out on the sofa in front of the fire with a thumping headache and an empty bottle of fire whiskey. He was mentally exhausted but unable to find any sort of rest; he was restless and wanted nothing more than to climb the stairs and find his son.
Harry had locked himself away since they had returned that afternoon, and he hadn’t come out of his room. The house-elves had assured him that Harry had eaten dinner and showered and that he was asleep when they collected the dishes.
Sirius knew what emotional trauma could do to a young man; he had suffered under his mother’s physical and verbal abuse for years when he was Harry’s age. His coping mechanism was pulling pranks and being crude; he had tried to sleep his way through Hogwarts to forget his problems, but if it hadn’t been for James, Remus, Lily—and even Peter—he wouldn’t have made it through. There were still days where he struggled, but after so many years, he knew how to deal with it in a healthy way.
Remus was normally the first person he would reach out to, talk about his feelings, and then work out what to do. But tonight, he wanted to be alone; he wanted to wallow and forget. Sirius had no doubt that Harry wanted to forget as well, and if that were the case, he feared for what would happen to his son.
Sirius already had to contact the ministry in the morning to deal with Harry’s use of magic underage, which would cause enough hassles, but school was second to Harry’s mental health. He just hoped that Harry would find the right person, whether it be Remus, Carlisle, or Allard’s daughter, Fleur.
Sirius had been surprised by how close the two had seemed. It was only twenty-four hours that the two had known each other, but Harry had clung to her like a lifeline. She seemed to comfort him, and he wondered if he had already opened up to her or not.
Footsteps caught his ear, and Sirius sat up, thinking for a moment it was Harry, but Remus was standing in the doorway, a grim look on his face.
Remus said, “Severus told me what happened.”
Sirius nodded and dropped back onto the couch. “Did he tell you how I am a failure as a father?”
Remus walked over and sat down on the coffee table. He said, “You missed something that any parent could have. But you have only failed if you have given up on him.”
Sirius took in a deep breathe. “I don’t want to give up.”
“Then don’t.”
“What about Lily?” asked Sirius.
The look in his son’s eyes when Lily had wept and begged had scared him. His son was so angry at Lily, and he didn’t really know how Harry felt towards him, but he was clinging to hope that Harry still loved him.
“Lily needs to find a way to fix her bond with him. From what I saw yesterday, what Harry said, this isn’t a recent thing. Harry feels like Harvey was his replacement in Lily’s life and that she never really wanted him. She will need to work hard to fix that, but Lily’s bond with Harry has nothing to do with your bond with Harry.” Remus reached over and gripped his shoulder. “Harry needs his father; show him that no matter what he is feeling, or what his mother has made him feel, that you are here and that you love him.”
Sirius sat up. “I knew there was a reason I kept you around.”
Remus smiled and laughed. “Someone has to keep your head attached to your shoulders.”
“Thanks, Moony.”
“Always, Padfoot.”
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