"Enough distractions," I muttered under my breath, gripping my wand tightly. With a flick, a shimmering blue light lashed out like a whip, splitting the air with a crack. The room was immediately filled with a torrent of twisting water streams, spiraling together into a compact, rotating torpedo. The sheer force of the spell sent the objects in the Room of Requirement tumbling—books, cushions, and stray trinkets spun helplessly in the air like leaves in a storm.
For several intense moments, the room was a whirlwind of chaos, the air thick with the roar of rushing water. My focus held steady, though my arms ached slightly from the precision required to keep the spell contained. When the strain became too much, I flicked my wrist, and the swirling torpedo began to dissipate, the water breaking apart into gentle droplets that evaporated before hitting the ground.
I let out a shaky breath, the kind that left my chest hollow yet buzzing with energy. "No more wasting time," I whispered, trying to steady myself. The holidays were slipping by, and I didn't intend to spend another moment cooped up here. I needed to leave Hogwarts—escape its suffocating walls and find clarity beyond its gates. The Hogwarts Express was still running; all I needed was permission from Dumbledore.
"I can do this," I murmured, more to myself than anyone else, as I pushed open the door to the hallway.
The seventh-floor corridor stretched ahead, quiet and serene. The faint winter sunlight filtered through the tall windows, bathing the stone walls in a soft, cold glow. It was a rare luxury in this season—sunlight that didn't feel muted by the oppressive gray skies. My footsteps echoed lightly as I made my way toward the Headmaster's office, the path winding in a way that felt both familiar and labyrinthine.
Before long, I stood in front of the stone gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office. It loomed silently, its carved features impassive yet somehow alive, as if it could sense the weight of my thoughts.
"Could you let Professor Dumbledore know that Harry Potter would like to speak with him?" I asked, my voice steady, though my heart raced.
The gargoyle didn't respond immediately. For a moment, I thought it might refuse—or worse, silently judge me—but then it shifted slightly, its stony head tilting. After a brief pause, its gravelly voice rumbled, "You are allowed entrance."
The concealed door swung open with a low groan, revealing the spiral staircase beyond. It began to rotate smoothly, waiting for me to step on. I hesitated for a fraction of a second, then squared my shoulders and ascended.
The staircase carried me upward, the soft hum of its mechanism filling the silence. Soon, the familiar sight of Dumbledore's office came into view. The room seemed timeless, its shelves stacked with ancient tomes and curious artifacts, all illuminated by the warm glow of flickering candlelight.
Dumbledore sat behind his massive desk, his half-moon glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as he examined a roll of parchment. When I entered, his head lifted, and his piercing blue eyes met mine. There was a familiar twinkle of curiosity and concern, though today it felt sharper, as though he could sense the weight behind my visit.
"Ah, Harry," he said warmly, gesturing for me to step closer. "What brings you here on such a fine winter's day?"
"Professor Dumbledore," I began, my voice steady despite the hesitation swirling in my thoughts. How was I supposed to phrase this? There was so much to say, but trust wasn't something I could extend to him—not completely, not yet. Should I tell him about my dream? About Grindelwald? Maybe a part of it? No, I decided firmly. It wasn't the time for that.
"I wanted to request your permission to leave Hogwarts for the remaining duration of the holidays."
The reaction was instant. For a moment, his face remained calm, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of bewilderment. I could almost hear the thoughts racing through his mind. Why would I want to leave? I didn't like the Dursleys. I'd never requested something like this before.
"Leave Hogwarts?" he repeated, leaning forward slightly, his tone laced with concern. "May I be a little presumptuous and assume this is not to visit the Dursleys?"
"Oh no," I replied quickly, shaking my head. "You see—"
"Have a seat, Harry," Dumbledore interjected gently, gesturing to the chair opposite his desk.
I nodded and sank into the seat, trying to calm the rapid rhythm of my heartbeat.
"You see," I began again, taking a moment to steel my nerves. I tightened my Occlumency shields instinctively, guarding my mind as I prepared to tread carefully. "I had… an intriguing dream."
Dumbledore's eyebrows arched slightly, his expression growing even more attentive. "Is this related to—?"
"No," I interrupted swiftly, shaking my head. "It's not Voldemort."
That seemed to ease some of the tension in his shoulders, but his gaze remained sharp.
"It's something else," I continued. "Something that feels… important. I thought I might stay at the Leaky Cauldron for the rest of the holidays. You know, have some time away and maybe investigate this… feeling."
Dumbledore leaned back slightly, his right hand absentmindedly stroking his long beard. His face turned thoughtful, the room falling silent except for the faint rustle of wind outside the frosted windows.
"There have been many whispers," he said finally, his voice soft but grave, "in certain circles about Voldemort and his movements over the past half-year." His words hung in the air like a thin mist, a reminder of the fragile situation that gripped the wizarding world. "And your safety, Harry, is paramount to me."
His gaze shifted toward the window, as if searching for an answer in the pale winter light. As he did, Fawkes glided into the room, his scarlet feathers gleaming against the gloom. The phoenix perched gracefully on his stand, letting out a low, soothing trill.
Dumbledore sighed, the sound heavy with contemplation, before turning back to me. "You may go, Harry," he said, his tone deliberate. "But there are conditions."
"Of course," I replied quickly, relief washing over me.
"You must return to the Leaky Cauldron by nine o'clock every evening. Without exception." His gaze was steady, almost piercing, as if daring me to argue.
I blinked, caught slightly off guard by the stipulation. "Oh… okay, sure. That works, I guess," I said with a shrug.
It wasn't ideal—it would shift some of my plans—but it was far better than outright refusal. Dumbledore had agreed, and that alone felt like a victory.
"Good," Dumbledore said, leaning forward slightly, his hands folding neatly on the desk. His voice carried its usual calm authority, but there was a faint undertone of caution. "I trust you will keep me informed if anything unusual arises during your time away."
"Of course, Professor," I assured him, keeping my tone even.
As I stood, I felt his gaze linger on me a moment longer, sharp and probing, as though trying to see beyond the surface of my words. It wasn't accusatory—more a quiet insistence on understanding. The intensity made me shift slightly, but then he gave a small, reassuring nod, a faint smile softening his expression.
"You may go," he said simply, his tone gentle yet definitive.
I turned and exited the office, the faint hum of the spiral staircase carrying me downward. My thoughts swirled with adjustments to my plans. Dumbledore's approval was a relief, but it came with strings, as it always did. Nine o'clock curfews and the unspoken expectation of reporting back—it wasn't ideal, but I could work around it.
First, though, I had a more immediate task: Ron and Hermione. If I didn't tell them about my impending departure soon, I'd be in for it. Their wrath was formidable when they felt excluded—especially Hermione's—and I didn't need more friction than necessary. Hopefully, they'd be calmer now than they were this morning.
I strode through the castle hallways, the cold stone echoing faintly under my footsteps. Winter had sunk its icy fingers deep into the castle, and even the warmth of the torches lining the walls couldn't chase away the pervasive chill.
As I rounded a corner, I spotted the familiar figures of my two best friends sitting in the Gryffindor common room. Hermione was engrossed in a massive book—no surprise there—while Ron poked absentmindedly at a game of wizard chess. Their faces were set in quiet concentration, but I knew them well enough to spot the tension lingering between them.
"Hey," I called softly as I stepped through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room, my voice cutting through the hum of the evening air.
Ron looked up from his chessboard, his expression flickering with curiosity and something else I couldn't quite place. "Where've you been?" he asked, his tone casual but with a sharp edge beneath it.
Hermione, perched in her usual spot with a book in hand, didn't even look up. But the raised eyebrow was unmistakable. "And why do you look like you're about to drop some bombshell on us?" she asked, her voice laced with skepticism.
I let out a small sigh, the weight of the conversation settling over me as I walked deeper into the room. "Because you probably won't like it," I admitted, trying to sound nonchalant. "But it's something you need to know."
That made Hermione finally put down her book with a heavy thud. Her sharp gaze met mine, and I could feel the intensity of her scrutiny. "What is it, Harry?" she asked, her voice quieter now, more serious.
Ron leaned forward from the chessboard, abandoning his pieces. His frown deepened. "Yeah, what's going on?"
I took a moment, then let the words fall flat. "I'm leaving Hogwarts for the rest of the holidays."
Hermione's eyes widened, her shock evident. "What?" she asked, her voice rising in surprise.
"Leaving?" Ron repeated, his voice edged with confusion and concern.
"Just for the holidays," I clarified quickly, my tone calm but firm. "I spoke to Dumbledore. He's given me permission to stay at the Leaky Cauldron for the rest of the break."
Hermione's brow furrowed as she leaned forward, her concern deepening into something more like suspicion. "Why would you need to do that? What's going on, Harry?"
I let out a breath, keeping my voice level. "It's personal," I said, trying to keep the explanation simple, but the weight of it still clung to my words. "I just… need some time away."
Ron's frown deepened, clearly struggling to piece it together. "And you couldn't tell us before you went to Dumbledore? That's a bit off, don't you think?"
"I'm telling you now," I replied, keeping my tone even, though I could feel the sting of frustration growing.
Hermione's eyes narrowed, and her voice turned sharp. "Harry, if this has anything to do with Voldemort or some kind of danger, you need to tell us. We're in this together, remember?"
I held up a hand, the calmness in my voice cutting through the tension. "It's not about Voldemort," I said firmly. "It's personal. That's all."
Ron scoffed, frustration leaking into his voice. "You always say that, mate—'it's personal.' But when do we ever get the whole story? It's like you're keeping us out of the loop until you think we're useful."
I squared my shoulders, the calm edge in my voice sharpening. "Don't start with that, Ron. I'm telling you because I thought you'd understand—not because I need your permission. This is my choice, and I don't owe anyone an explanation for it. Not even you."
Hermione's brow furrowed, her concern still there, but now tinged with something else. "We're just worried about you, Harry. You can't blame us for that."
"And I'm not," I replied, my gaze locking with hers. "But you need to trust me. This isn't some big secret, and I'm not going off to chase danger. This is something I need to do on my own."
Ron leaned back in his chair, arms crossed tightly over his chest. "Fine," he muttered, his voice holding a hint of frustration. "But if you get yourself into trouble, don't expect us to just sit around waiting for you to get back."
I turned to face them both, my tone firm, cutting through the simmering tension between them. "Look, I get that you're both frustrated. But don't take it out on me. I didn't come here to be caught in the middle of this."
Hermione blinked, her lips parting slightly, clearly taken aback.
Ron opened his mouth to defend himself, but I interrupted, my voice calm but unyielding. "You are," I said simply. "And I'm asking you to stop. I've made my choice, and I'm not apologizing for it."
Hermione sighed, the tension in her posture easing just a bit. "Just… be careful, okay? And promise you'll write?"
"I will," I said, giving her a small nod. "I promise."
The tension hung in the air for a moment longer, but it eased as I sat down with them. Ron returned to his chessboard, muttering something under his breath, and Hermione picked up her book again, though she kept glancing at me now and then.
Before dinner that evening, I returned all the library books I had and packed my things. I didn't have much, really—just schoolbooks, some clothes, and a few small trinkets or gifts here and there. Most of my more precious belongings were already safely tucked away in my ring.
By 10 p.m., I was in my dorm room, the castle now silent except for the soft crackling of the fire. I decided to skip studying for the night—I wasn't in the mood for it. So, I drew the curtains around my four-poster bed and settled in for a long sleep. The room was dark, with only the occasional flicker of light from the fireplace casting shadows. The comforting warmth from the fire and the soft crackle of burning wood soon lulled me into a deep, uninterrupted slumber.
Usually, I wake up around 6 to 7, but since I'd gone to bed early, I found myself awake at 5, an anomaly I hadn't anticipated. And so, I found myself alone in the silent common room. The fire crackled softly, casting long shadows across the room. I stared into the flames, lost in thought, when a familiar sensation tugged at me—a feeling I knew all too well. It was the one that urged me to step out into the cold winter night or early morning, to meet her.
Would she be there?
There was only one way to find out.
I rose quietly from the couch, careful not to disturb the stillness, and crossed the common room. The corridors were empty, the Grand Staircase silent as I ascended, making my way toward the large oak doors. As soon as I stepped outside, the sharp winter wind greeted me, biting at my skin and sending shivers down my spine.
The Black Lake was a familiar sight at this hour, the moonlight reflecting off the water's dark surface. I made my way to the spot we'd shared before, a place by the edge of the lake where the world felt suspended in time, just for us. But tonight, as I waited in the cold, there was no sign of her. No Fleur.
I sighed softly, a twinge of disappointment knotting in my chest. "I suppose it had to happen eventually," I muttered to myself, standing up straight. I began walking, the crunch of snow beneath my boots the only sound accompanying me.
The lake was still beautiful, though. The moon hung high in the sky, bathing everything in a silvery glow, while the stars twinkled like scattered diamonds across the vast, endless night. The chill from the water crept into my bones, numbing my senses, but there was something soothing about it. Something I liked about the solitude.
As I walked, I noticed the Beauxbatons carriage in the distance, its window glowing faintly in the early morning light. Curious. I glanced back at the lake, then toward the window once more. But it didn't seem to matter. I wasn't here for the carriage. I was here for someone else.
I checked my watch—it was 6 a.m. Time to head back.
Breakfast wasn't until 8, but during the holidays, the rules about meal times were more relaxed. If you were hungry, you could usually eat by 7 or as late as 11. I began retracing my steps when I felt a presence behind me, a faint fluttering of wings. Turning, I saw an owl swooping down toward me.
The owl landed gracefully on my extended arm, its talons lightly gripping my hand. I gently stroked its soft feathers and smiled. "Hey, cutie. What have you got for me?" I asked as I took the small letter from its grasp.
I opened it, and my eyes immediately focused on the signature. My heart skipped a beat.
Dear Harry,
I will be leaving Hogwarts for the remainder of the holidays to visit my parents back in France. Would you care to meet up today before I depart? My departure is at around 11 a.m.
Perhaps very much yours,
Fleur 💋
A slight red smudge on the corner of the letter caught my eye. She'd kissed it. That Princess. My lips curled into a grin without me even realizing it.
"Did she… kiss it?" I muttered aloud, shaking my head in amused disbelief. "Fleur…"
I glanced at the owl, who was watching me with its wide green eyes. "Is she awake? Was that window hers?"
The owl blinked slowly, tilting its head before nodding in response.
"Huh," I said, a mischievous glint in my eye. "Can you show me the window?"
The owl tilted its head again, almost as if considering my request, and then nodded.
With a flick of my wand, I cast Disillusionment on myself. My body shimmered and vanished into the surroundings. "Lead the way," I whispered to the owl.
The owl flapped its wings and flew off, guiding me towards Fleur's window. We approached the Beauxbatons carriage swiftly. The window was just within reach. The owl perched at the edge of the window and let out a soft hoot.
I felt that familiar warmth rush through me, the feeling I always got when she was close.
The window creaked open, and Fleur's voice, soft and melodic, floated out. "Oh, Vigil, you're back early."
She cradled the owl in her arms. "Did 'e hug you or something? It smells like 'im…" Her voice softened, almost wistful, as she checked the owl's talons. "'E didn't reply back?"
Unable to resist, I stepped forward, letting my Disillusionment spell flicker off with a wave of my hand. "Hello, Princess," I said, my voice warm and teasing. I slipped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her a little closer.
"'Arry!" she gasped, startled. Vigil, her owl, flapped his wings in a panic, hooting and screeching as he hastily flew inside and landed in his cage with a ruffled squawk.
"Well, it's indeed me," I said with a smirk, gently touching her lips with my finger, leaving a faint red stain from her lipstick. "You teasing minx. Vigil showed me the way to your window."
Fleur's eyes widened in surprise, and her cheeks flushed a soft pink. "'Arry, what are you doing 'ere?" she asked, her breath still shaky from the sudden shock. "You're not supposed to be 'ere!"
"Why not?" I grinned, leaning in slightly, feeling the warmth of her body close to mine despite the cold air around us. My breath mingled with hers as I smirked, teasing. "I got an invitation, didn't I?"
"Yes, but what if someone came?" Fleur's voice trembled with the faintest hint of worry, but there was no conviction behind it—only the soft pink on her cheeks and the playful grin tugging at her lips. "Madame Maxime is very strict about us."
I leaned in a little closer, my lips almost brushing her ear as I whispered, "At least give me a hug before all these excuses." Without waiting for her to respond, I placed a soft kiss at the tip of her nose. With her, it just felt natural, like everything was falling into place.
Her laughter, light and breathy, filled the air, and she finally relented. Smiling, she threw her arms around me, pulling me into a warm embrace. Despite the fact that she was inside the carriage and I was still outside, our hands found each other, intertwining between the thin barrier of the window.
The moment stretched, comfortable and filled with a quiet intimacy. The cold night seemed to disappear in the warmth of our closeness, the fluttering sound of the owl settling in the background like a distant echo. Fleur's cheek rested against mine, and I could feel her heartbeat, steady and calm.
"Maybe just a little longer, 'Arry," she murmured against my ear, her breath sending a shiver down my spine. "I like when it's just us."
"I could stay here forever, you know," I said softly, my lips brushing against her cheek as I whispered. "But I don't want to get you into trouble."
Fleur pulled back slightly to look at me, her smile widening. "You're right," she said, her fingers trailing lightly down my arm. "But I'm glad you're here. Now, no more sneaking around, alright?"
I chuckled, pulling her back into the hug, my arms wrapping around her more firmly. "No promises," I teased, though the playful tone softened into something deeper. I didn't want to leave.
"I am going back to France for ze 'olidays," Fleur finally said after a while, her voice taking on a more thoughtful note. "I need zat date from you after I return," she added coyly, her finger tracing a line on my chest.
"Oh, you will get it, Fleur, don't worry," I winked teasingly, my hands still resting lightly on her waist. After a few more seconds of silence, I added, "Actually, I'm also leaving for the rest of the holidays. Was just wondering if I'd find you strutting beautifully as usual around the lake."
Her eyes sparkled as she arched an eyebrow, her lips curving into a teasing smile. "Strutting beautifully, hm?" she said, her voice soft but laced with amusement. "You flatter me, 'Arry."
"Well, it's true," I said with a grin, my hands circling her waist, pulling her just a little closer. "It's the truth. Thankfully, though, your cute owl came before I had to turn around and leave."
Fleur's smile grew even more radiant at that, and I could see the mischievous glint in her eyes. "You're lucky, 'Arry," she said softly, her tone playful but affectionate. "If you hadn't come, I would have left without a word."
"Oh, I doubt that," I teased, leaning in closer, my nose brushing against hers. "You wouldn't leave me hanging, would you? Besides, you're leaving after me. My train is at 10, not like I've got all morning."
She laughed softly, the sound like music to my ears. "Maybe not. But next time, you should be more careful. You don't want to get me into trouble."
I tilted my head slightly, catching her gaze with an almost conspiratorial smirk. "I'll take my chances," I said, my voice low and teasing. "Besides, a little trouble with you sounds worth it." My hands slid down her waist just a little, and I felt her tense for a moment, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she looked up at me with those stormy blue eyes, half serious, half playful.
"You're a bad influence, 'Arry," she said softly, her breath warm against my lips. "You know that, right?"
"I know," I replied, my voice almost a whisper. "But I wouldn't have it any other way."
She smiled, the corners of her lips curling up as she took a small step back, just enough to break the spell without going too far. "Maybe that's why I like you."
I felt a flush of warmth spread through me, more than just the chill of the night air. It wasn't often I heard her say something like that, and the sincerity in her tone hit me harder than I expected. "Well, I'm glad you do," I said quietly, my grin softening, though I couldn't help but tease once more.
I leaned my head toward her, my heart pounding, but instead of kissing her, I let my lips barely graze her cheek, the lightest touch, just enough to leave her longing for more. My breath was hot against her skin, and I whispered in her ear, my voice low and playful, "You will regret not kissing me right now for the rest of the Holidays."
Before she could respond, I pulled away quickly, grinning as I shot her a final look. "See you, Fleur! Love you!" I said with a wink, leaving her standing there, her lips parted in surprise and her eyes wide with a mix of amusement and desire.
The cool night air rushed around me as I bolted back toward the castle, my heart racing and a mischievous smile tugging at my lips. Behind me, I could feel the warmth of her gaze, and I knew she'd be thinking about that moment for a long time.
And I couldn't wait to see her again.
Author's note: So, here is a chapter for y'all. It kind of sucks, but I really wasn't in the mood to improve it, I will probably fix it by making next few chapters more solid. Also also, my PA 3 exams are coming very son, so expect less updates. If you find any mistakes, please tell me in reviews. Also I read all the comments, so please consider leaving some, they make my day.
Thank You
Cheers!