Harry James Potter, otherwise known as The Boy Who Lived, was rather confused. Earlier in the day he had received an invitation to dinner from Sebastian Delacour, who he could only presume was Fleur's father. It stated that they had important matters to discuss, but for the life of him, he could not imagine what those matters might be!
The only thing that came to mind was his rescue of Fleur during the Second Task several days prior. She was attacked by Grindylows numbering in the hundreds, and he just happened to pass by and lend a hand. It wasn't a big deal as far as he was concerned.
But beyond that, there was nothing. Fleur was nice enough after the Task, and her sister apparently adored him, but nothing about that should have interested the man since they were little more than passing acquaintances. They had no other dealings beyond the Tournament.
That said, he also had no reason to decline the invitation. In fact, he jumped at the chance! Ron was telling tall tales about the Task at every opportunity, and Harry was getting sick of it; he needed to be away from his friend for a while, and here was a ready-made excuse!
While the letter said it would be a casual affair, Harry still did his best to dress nicely, wanting to make a good impression. He was well aware that his wardrobe left something to be desired, but there wasn't much he could do about it. They had only ever seen him in the rags his relatives made him wear, and he hoped that he could improve their opinion of him a bit.
It didn't hurt that Fleur was a truly beautiful girl, and was clearly unimpressed with him. Sure, he didn't stand a chance with someone like her – not even counting the fact that she was three years older – but it wouldn't hurt to have her think well of him. He was more or less unaffected by veela now that he understood what they were, but he was still a boy!
Suppressing a minor bout of nerves at the thought that she might be there, he straightened his robes and reached up to knock on the door to the Beauxbatons carriage.
It was only a moment before it opened to reveal a short, curvy brunette in Beauxbatons blue robes. She was probably Fleur's age, and quite pretty. But then her eyes flicked up to his scar and widened, and he lost all interest; he couldn't stand it when people did that, and it turned him off to her almost immediately.
"Er, hi," he said. "I'm looking for Sebastian Delacour."
The girl blinked and shook herself free of her momentary trance. "Droit, de cette façon," she said unintelligibly.
While he couldn't understand her words, she did motion him inside, so he took his cue from that. She only paused to close the door behind him, and he didn't even have a chance to take in the décor before she was leading him down a nearby corridor. The carriage was much like a Wizarding tent: much larger on the inside than on the outside.
There were doors at various intervals along the hall, rectangles of beige against a backdrop of light blue. Harry thought it quite calming, if a little odd. She led him to one marked with the number 42, and knocked; his nerves kicked up a notch, but he squelched them ruthlessly.
And then the door opened, and his guide scampered away before he could even offer his thanks.
Turning back, he found himself staring up at an older, well-built, very confident man. His gray-edged hair and intelligent eyes spoke of great wisdom, and his fine clothes spoke of wealth. Harry felt like little more than errant child in his presence, but did his best not to show it.
"Mr. Delacour?" he queried tentatively.
The man smiled a friendly smile and stepped aside. "Come in, Monsieur Potter," he offered. "It is a pleasure to meet you."
"Er, you too, sir."
Sebastian led him to a sitting area, where two chairs and a stuffy couch were arranged around a roaring fire. Harry was almost constantly cold thanks to his lack of body mass, and such things were more necessity than luxury for him. He accepted one of the squashy armchairs and allowed the warmth to wash over him.
"Thank you for coming," offered Sebastian as he likewise settled in. "And before I say anything else, I want to thank you for what you did for Fleur. You saved 'er life, and that is no small matter in my family."
Harry flushed slightly in embarrassment. "It wasn't a big deal, sir," he shrugged. "I just thought she could use some help is all."
The comment made Sebastian smile, but Harry noted that it didn't quite reach his eyes. In fact, now that he looked more closely, the man looked exhausted and tense! He had the sudden suspicion that something was wrong, and sure enough–
"I am afraid that it is, in fact, a big deal, Monsieur Potter," he said seriously. "But I can see that you don't know what I am talking about."
Harry blinked. "Sir?" he prompted bemusedly.
Sebastian sighed and leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers under his chin. His expression was far from unfriendly, but the look in his eyes made Harry want to squirm. He had a knack for knowing when something was going to bite him in the arse – which was most of the time – and it looked like this was yet another such instance.
In that moment, Harry badly wished that he had Hermione there to watch his back. He wasn't afraid of being attacked or anything, but she would have a better idea of what was going on! Should he have told her what happened in spite of Fleur's request to keep it quiet? He had thought it was because she was embarrassed, but now he had to wonder!
"May I call you 'Arry?" asked Sebastian suddenly.
"That's fine, sir," he shrugged nervously.
"Thank you," nodded Sebastian. "I do 'ope you will forgive me, 'Arry. As Fleur's father, this is very difficult for me to talk about. I want to first assure you that we will not force you to do anything that you do not wish to do, regardless of the consequences. Your life is yours alone to live."
Harry's heart began to race as he registered just how wrong things were! One did not start a conversation that way unless it was going to turn out badly! He had to forcibly squash an urge to bolt, and ended up squirming in his seat instead.
"Er, okay," he frowned. "What's going on, sir?"
"Are you familiar with the concept of a life debt?"
Harry nodded. "I found out about them last year because someone owes me one, but Professor Dumbledore didn't say much, so I don't know a lot about them."
Sebastian blinked. "You mean to tell me that you acquired a life debt and Albus did not explain them to you?" he asked incredulously.
"He just said I might be glad it was there some day, whatever that means," shrugged Harry.
And it was a good point now that he thought about it! Why hadn't Dumbledore told him how it would come in handy? He was increasingly tired of the way the man liked to dole out information in tiny little bits, when he could save so much trouble by just telling him what he needed to know! And now it looked like he was about to be blindsided because of it – again!
"I see," scowled Sebastian. Then there was a tense silence before– "I would suggest that we discuss that later," he decided. "It is important for you to know, but not for this discussion. Right now, what you need to know is 'ow they interact with veela magic."
Harry's brow furrowed in concern as an ugly suspicion popped into his head. "Did something happen to Fleur?" he asked suddenly. "Is she okay?"
Sebastian smiled a genuine smile at him for the question. "She is fine," he nodded. Only, then the smile fell. "But she will not be if the situation is not resolved. You see, 'Arry, veela magic is a strange thing, and among other things, it cannot peacefully coexist with a life debt. Simply put, it will call the debt due within thirty days, which will result in the loss of 'er magic, and because she is veela, 'er very life."
Harry paled at the revelation, and unable to sit still, he pushed up from his chair and paced in front of the fire, his gaze fixed on the floor in front of him. He did not like the sound of that! Why had Dumbledore never explained these things to him? Not that he could have changed what happened, but maybe he could have done something differently!
Budding anger at the Headmaster bubbled beneath the surface of his thoughts. It had been ignited with his entry into the Tournament, but how much more was going to go wrong? Wasn't the man supposed to be protecting him?
Shaking off those thoughts and focusing in on what was important, Harry lifted his eyes to meet Sebastian's surprisingly calm gaze. The man hadn't moved a muscle, but even through his calm façade, Harry could see the turmoil behind his eyes, and couldn't blame him in the slightest. How would he feel if his daughter were in this situation?
There was only one thing for it.
"What do I need to do?" he asked flatly. "She doesn't owe me anything, sir. If there's a way I can help, tell me and I'll do it."
Sebastian fixed him with a sad look. "If only it were that simple," he sighed heavily. "You 'ad better sit down, 'Arry. You are not going to like this, and I would rather you did not crack your 'ead on the 'earth."
Harry couldn't suppress a snort at the dry humor. He followed the instruction, but his insides were twisting themselves into knots as he waited for the axe to fall. Never did someone preemptively tell him that he wasn't going to like something, so that meant he probably really wasn't going to like it!
There was another tense silence as Sebastian ordered his thoughts, a deep hesitancy having come over him. It was an odd contradiction: he was a confident man, and yet he seemed so troubled! That could not be a good sign! And when he finally spoke again, his voice was quiet, and faintly pained.
"There is no way to simply forgive a life debt, 'Arry," he said, "and only two known ways of satisfying them. I think we can both agree that the likelihood of Fleur saving your life this month is nonexistent?"
Harry winced and nodded.
The man then took a deep, steadying breath, and Harry knew the end was nigh. He was desperate to hear the verdict – Fleur's life apparently depended on it – but he also dreaded it. It was surely going to end up being something horrifically costly from the way he was acting, and sure enough–
"The only other way," he said slowly, "is for you to take 'er 'and in marriage, 'Arry. The matrimonial bond would cancel out the life debt. As 'er father, I do not like this for obvious reasons, but I also cannot avoid making the request, because I would rather this than 'ave 'er perish."
The floor abruptly fell out from under Harry as he went over Sebastian's words in his mind, trying to make sure that he'd heard correctly. Did the man just say that he had to marry Fleur? No matter how hard he tried to twist the words, he could not make the statement go away! It was bloody insane!
He stared blankly back at the man for a solid twenty seconds, and then–
"Is this a joke?" he asked tonelessly.
"It is no joke," was the simple reply.
The silence that fell in its wake was so thick you could cut it with a knife, and for a long while Harry could not think at all. He was stunned! He had imagined some crazy ritual would have to be performed, perhaps with the risk of death, but this? This was– it was– He didn't know what it was!
"Bugger," he breathed. Then he looked sharply up at Sebastian and asked, "Does Fleur know about this?"
Sebastian nodded. "She is aware," he admitted, "but she did not realize it at the time, I assure you. It was my duty as 'er father to approach you."
"And there's no other choice?" he asked weakly.
Sebastian shrugged. "Your may choose to decline, of course," he said with brutal honesty. "If that is the case, then I will not 'old it against you."
Harry surged to his feet, incensed by the calm delivery of such a callous statement. "But you said she'll die!" he snapped angrily.
"Yes," said Sebastian simply.
Harry's hands clenched unconsciously into fists as he stalked back to stare into the fire. He couldn't believe the unfairness of his life! He had nothing against Fleur – she was a beautiful woman, if a bit snobbish for his tastes – but to be forced to marry her? It was wrong on so very many levels!
And regardless of what Sebastian said...
"No," he declared, still facing the fire, his voice ringing out in the otherwise silent room. "That's not a choice! If I say no, then I might as well cast Avada Kedavra right now, and I am not a bloody murderer!"
More silence was his only answer, and he turned to see Sebastian watching him with a tear running down his cheek. That, more than anything, served to cool his anger; the man clearly did not like this any more than Harry did. He had to give the guy credit: on the outside he was remarkably calm, and it was probably a very useful skill to have.
Harry wondered if he could learn it.
His anger finally abating, he sighed heavily and ran his hand through his hair. This was a lot to take in, and he had no idea where to even start! And they had less than thirty days? Talk about short notice!
"What does Fleur think?" he asked softly.
Sebastian nodded his approval of the question. "She does not wish to die, 'Arry," he said honestly. "She is no more 'appy with this than you are, but she does not wish to die."
Harry deflated and sank back into the chair. He knew it was the right thing to do. He could not kill someone even through inaction; it simply wasn't a part of him. Vague dreams in the back of his head crumbled and died, but he ignored them as best he could; there simply was no choice.
Hermione was going to flip! She would be beside herself with worry, and probably rail against the injustices of the Wizarding world, which he could only agree with at the moment. Then she would run to the library and research it to death, but he was reasonably certain she would come up dry. Sebastian did not strike him as anything less than honest.
And when Ron found out...
Harry paled at the realization of what that would entail! His so-called best friend had a jealous streak a mile wide, and it was a well-known fact that he could not get enough of Fleur! Harry often caught him staring across the room at her, though he never pointed it out. He could already hear the oncoming tirade ringing in his ears, and a foreboding feeling overcame him.
Closing his eyes, he tried to picture what the rest of the school would say, but all he knew was that it would be a scandal of magnificent proportions! Rita Skeeter would probably spin it as some sort of intentional entrapment by the evil veela, and the public would go nuts! Did Sebastian have any idea just how difficult this would be?
Harry couldn't catch his breath. Scenario after scenario played themselves out in his mind, each worse than the last. He was a celebrity, and the public loved to hate celebrities! Why was his life so bloody difficult? Why couldn't he just be normal?
And then a comforting warmth suddenly overcame him, and as his breathing slowed, he looked up to see a very concerned Sebastian holding a wand on him.
"Just a Calming Charm," he explained. "Better?"
Harry nodded weakly, and Sebastian came forward to kneel in front of him. "I am truly sorry, 'Arry," he said sincerely. "I know that this is difficult for you. I wish that things could be different."
Harry nodded again and put his head in his hands. Calming Charm or not, he couldn't shake the images from his mind! Predominant among them was one of him trying to protect Fleur from a mob of angry wizards in Diagon Alley. It was sadly possible!
But what could he do? How would they get the public to accept it? He was fourteen years old, for Merlin's sake! There was no possible way that he could see, and he hadn't nearly the knowledge to deal with something like this!
Maybe France would be better? At this rate, he would be safer there anyway...
"The press will be a problem," he finally said, his voice hoarse and hushed. "I don't know what we'll do, sir. They'll rip her to shreds, and I don't know how to stop it from happening."
Sebastian placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, and he couldn't help his flinch at the contact, though the man ignored it. "Let me deal with the press, 'Arry," he offered. "I 'ave a great deal of experience with them. We will find a way, I promise you."
Harry finally sighed and looked up, and once again noted the genuine concern in the man's gaze. He didn't know about Fleur, but her father at least was a decent man, that much he was certain of. If only they had come to know each other under different circumstances...
"I'll do it," he whispered quietly. "I won't let her die."
Sebastian stared into his eyes for a long moment, searching out the truth, before finally nodding and squeezing his shoulder. "Thank you, 'Arry," he said with genuine emotion. "Let us postpone our meal. You are exhausted, and you 'ave a great deal to consider. You may rest on the couch, and we can speak further after you 'ave slept for a time. Your 'ead will be clearer then."
As much as he hated to admit it, Harry had to agree that it was a good idea. His emotions were ragged, and he needed to let all this settle for a while. Maybe then he could find something positive about the situation, which was something he sorely needed.
As he drifted off ten minutes later, he realized that the most frightening thing of all was that he had to talk to Fleur.