A/N: Hey everyone! Hope you're doing well. If you liked this chapter, please drop a comment, leave a review, and send a Power Stone. Thanks for all the support!
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Several days had passed since Harry's arrival at Grimmauld Place. He hadn't seen anything more out of Draco or his mother, and that suited him fine. He was still stunned to be living in the same house as his Slytherin nemesis. It just didn't seem possible that Narcissa and Draco Malfoy were now—technically, at least—on his side. Both had sworn unbreakable vows in exchange for sanctuary, and neither could attack or intentionally betray him.
It was unfortunate that Malfoy hadn't taken him up on his offer to duel. Now Harry would never get a chance to humiliate the boy. Somehow, he didn't think this situation would end with a friendship. There was too much history there, and Malfoy was clearly furious at his imprisonment.
Harry could understand his outrage: suddenly trapped and alone in an unfamiliar house, with his old world ripped away from him. As far as he knew, Draco and Narcissa rarely left the fifth floor.
Draco, in fact, literally couldn't leave the house. After two early attempts to do so, he had been warded in by Sirius. If he left the safe confines of Grimmauld's wards, the Malfoy house elves would be able to locate him and inform his father. There was no telling what might happen to him afterwards. The vows he had taken made him useless to Voldemort as a follower, and thus more likely to be sacrificed out of pure spite.
Sirius had told him that Draco couldn't even return to Hogwarts next year. He couldn't imagine what that felt like. Was he writing letters to his Slytherin friends, explaining his new circumstances? Did he even have friends, or just minions? His only company now was his mother and an old, deranged elf named Kreacher, who took care of their needs.
For some reason, Sirius found the latter fact to be hilarious.
Harry had already explored most of Grimmauld Place. The house was absolutely massive. From the outside, it looked like an imposing, three-story brownstone. On the inside, it had five magically-enhanced floors. There were more than 25 rooms. Sirius wouldn't allow him inside half of them, especially the basement.
He and Remus were still sweeping the place for dangerous artifacts. Harry couldn't even visit the library by himself, as some of the books were cursed and might conceal hidden doxy nests. He didn't want to spend too much time there anyway. The dark room gave him the creeps, as did so many of the others.
Dobby, however, was in love with the place. The elf had never encountered a filthier home. The house itself seemed to be fighting his efforts to clean it, a fact that delighted him. Harry decided he was going to buy him an expensive gift the next time he visited Diagon Alley.
He spent most of his time chatting with Remus and Sirius, both of whom were happy to have him there. Most evenings, Sirius would regale him with stories about his parents. Remus would chime in, and soon it would become a contest to see who could remember the most details about all the pranks they played. Based on what he'd heard, Harry wasn't sure if he would have liked the Marauders in their prime. More than a few of their pranks had been cruel.
This afternoon he was in his bedroom reading ahead for Charms. With Sirius taking a nap, there was nothing better to do. The old Marauder still hadn't recovered fully from his ordeal in Azkaban. He was tired every afternoon and needed lots of sleep. He badly needed a trip to St. Mungo's. Harry would insist on it if and when they gained his freedom.
His stomach growled, and he laid his book aside, deciding that a trip to the kitchen was in order.
It was usually empty during the afternoon, so he was surprised to find someone sitting at the table. The purple-haired young woman he had encountered in the hospital wing was munching on a sandwich and humming a tune to herself.
"Er, hello."
"Wotcher," she said with a friendly smile, and wiped some mustard away from her lip. "We didn't get properly introduced earlier. I'm Tonks."
"Harry Potter. Nice to meet you."
He went to the counter to make himself a sandwich too. "So, what brings you to Grimmauld Place, Tonks?"
"Oh, this and that. Doing a bit of work for the Headmaster, and today I met with the lovely Lady Malfoy," she said with a roll of her eyes. "I'm acting as emissary for my mum."
"Emissary?"
"Narcissa is my mum's sister, which makes her my aunt, though I just met her. Sirius is my cousin."
"Ah. I had no idea Sirius had so many cousins. Everybody here seems to be one."
"Everybody in the magical world is related, if you go back far enough. Your great-grandmother was a Black too."
"Really? I had no idea."
Perhaps he needed to do some research into his family tree. There might be distant relatives that he was unaware of. He studied Tonks' features. She didn't have any resemblance to Sirius. She had pale skin, deep blue eyes, shockingly purple hair, and an impish face.
"Why do you have purple hair, if you don't mind my asking?"
She laughed. "Because purple is cool."
Harry had the strangest sense of déjà vu, and looked at her oddly.
"You asked me that same question when you were high as a kite on pain potions. You don't remember?"
"Er, not really."
"You thought I was a floating head. It was pretty funny."
"A floating head?"
"I was on guard duty in the hospital wing. I had an invisibility cloak wrapped around me, but I pulled down the hood to read. You saw my head and thought it was the most fascinating thing ever."
"Oh," he said, feeling a little embarrassed. He vaguely recalled Pomfrey chiding him about something. "Thank you for guarding me. You're an Auror?"
"You betcha, and a new member of the Order. Doing a little undercover work for Director Bones and the Headmaster at the mo. Keep that to yourself, by the way."
He took a bite out of his freshly-made sandwich. "How do you go undercover with purple hair?"
She smirked. "Like this."
Tonks transformed into a different person right in front of his eyes. The vaguely punk-looking pixie was replaced by a mousy-haired, middle-aged woman who looked more like a librarian than an Auror.
"Whoa! How did you do that?"
She shifted again, and an exact replica of Draco Malfoy sat across from him. Harry's eyes bulged.
"I'm a metamorphmagus," she said in Draco's voice, though it sounded warmer than he had ever heard it. "I can manipulate my body however I want. Pretty cool, eh?"
"It's bloody awesome," he said, staring at the features of his Slytherin classmate. He couldn't detect the slightest difference.
She shifted back into her normal form and grinned. "Thanks."
"You must be one hell of an asset to the Aurors."
"Sometimes. I'm still a rookie. Only finished Hogwarts three years ago. But when they need undercover work, I'm their gal. Dumbledore's got me hanging out at bars in Knockturn, listening for rumors among all the disreputable folk. It's actually kind of fun."
"Sounds dangerous."
She shrugged. "I like a bit of adventure. It's why I joined the Aurors. You're no stranger to a spot of danger yourself, I hear."
"She follows me around like a kneazle in heat."
Tonks laughed and her hair briefly turned pink. "I believe it. Dumbledore showed us the memory of you fighting Pettigrew and that horrid baby. You were damned impressive for a fourth year."
"Thanks. I barely made it out alive though."
"True, but you held your own. An Auror would have been in deep shit trying to take out three attackers at once. You landed a hit on You-Know-Who himself, even if he was a munchkin. That's nothing to sneeze at."
"Thank you."
Harry decided he liked Tonks already. Her resemblance to Sirius was more in her personality than her appearance.
She stood from the table. "I best be going. Gotta report to mum before my shift tonight. I doubt there's going to be a sisterly reunion any time soon."
"Bad blood?"
"You have no idea. My dad's a muggleborn. You can imagine how well that went over in the Black family. That spoiled brat upstairs doesn't seem to be a fan of yours either. He bitched and moaned about you the whole time."
"The feeling is mutual. I still can't believe he's here."
"Me either. A pair of Malfoys turning on You-Know-Who—who'd a thunk it? Gotta be a good sign."
"Let's hope."
She drew her cloak around her and headed for the door. "See ya round, Harry. Try to keep my cousin out of the firewhiskey."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Harry looked down at his appearance in distaste. He was over six feet tall, a little on the heavy side, and his arms were covered in thick hair. His godfather's dimensions had barely changed at all, though he had acquired pale skin and feathery blonde hair.
"Why do you get to be the handsome one? I look like a big, hairy gnome."
Sirius snickered. "Because a Harry is supposed to be hairy. Plus, I need some attention from the ladies. I've been surrounded by soul-sucking demons for a decade."
"Okay, you win," he grumbled.
The pair was using Polyjuice to disguise themselves as random muggles. Harry wasn't certain how Sirius had come across their hairs. He counted himself lucky he hadn't been given a stray hair from his godfather's animagus form.
"Leaky Cauldron!" Sirius called out, and disappeared through the floo. Harry adjusted his ill-fitting robes and followed him.
He dusted himself off as they made their way to the back of the pub.
"I still say I could have come as myself."
"You'd get too much attention, and the Headmaster wants you safe. It's just for the afternoon. Then you can go back to your hairless teenage existence."
He rolled his eyes as they strode into the open air of Diagon Alley. The streets were bustling with people. It was a warm summer's day, and the cafes and stores were crowded. Sirius took a deep breath and smiled. He extended his arms, as if trying to hug the entire street.
"Merlin, what a day. Not a dementor in sight."
Harry laughed. "What are you looking for anyway?"
"Dunno. I'll know it when I see it. I'm rich and I want to get out of that wretched house. Do I need a better reason?"
"I guess not."
"Good. Let's spend some of my family's money."
He led them to Gringotts, where both made withdrawals. Harry wasn't able to enter his godfather's vault due to security measures, but he was stunned at the amount of gold residing there. It looked like more money than he could spend in ten lifetimes. No wonder Sirius could afford to buy him a firebolt.
They visited a liquor store first, where Sirius bought a dozen cases of expensive wine to restock Grimmauld's cellar, plus two cases of firewhiskey. He drank most nights, which left Harry a bit concerned. The dementors had taken their toll on him, and he hoped to convince Sirius to see a mind healer at some point. He didn't want to lose him to a different kind of demon.
Harry picked up some owl treats and a new, more expansive cage for Hedwig. Having no idea what Dobby might want, he settled on a tasteful gold chain that could be worn around his neck. It wouldn't clash with his white tea towel, at least, so hopefully he would like it. Sirius insisted on buying a broom for Hermione, even though she disliked flying. He hadn't forgotten the hippogriff ride that had saved his life, and Harry agreed that she needed to learn how to fly properly.
An hour into their trip, they ducked into an alley and downed another Polyjuice potion. Harry grimaced as his went down.
"Ugh, this guy tastes like a gnome too."
"Heh. Mine tastes like spinach for some reason. I've used this guy before. Had to make a few trips to Gringotts when I was hiding out. Polyjuice is dead useful."
"How'd you get your hands on it?"
"Went to Knockturn and paid a black-market potions master for vats of the stuff. Cost me a small fortune, but it was worth it. There are still dozens of doses left, but hopefully I won't need them anymore. I can't wait to walk these streets as a free man. The ladies of England have been deprived of my presence for far too long."
"Speaking of ladies," he added with a smirk, "there's a lovely little brothel deep in Knockturn. The girls are top notch. You interested?"
"Er, I'm more than happy with Gryffindor's club. Why do I need a brothel?"
"You may not need it, but I sure as hell do."
Harry laughed. He found the idea of a brothel somewhat distasteful, but he had no room to talk, given what happened in the Pride. The dementors clearly hadn't affected his godfather's libido.
"Something tells me you've been there before."
"Dogs have needs, Harry."
"They have fleas too. You're going to be a terrible influence on me, aren't you?"
"You better believe it. I owe it to your dad."
"And would my mum approve of me visiting brothels in Knockturn Alley?"
"Maybe not, but your dad would have. We both visited in our sixth year."
"Oh, Merlin."
Sirius smiled wistfully. "I'll tell you the story one day. James paid for the services of the Madam herself. For now, let's go get fitted for some new clothes. I need to look the part when I'm a free man."
Harry looked down at his protruding belly. "This guy weighs like 80 more pounds than I do."
"Guess we'll have to come back for yours later. You can still by socks."
The pair spent the next two hours wandering through the alley. Sirius bought most of a new wardrobe from Madam Malkin's, flirting outrageously with the salesgirl the entire time. Harry just watched, hoping he wouldn't embarrass himself too badly.
They passed by an art supply store, and he decided on a whim to purchase a palette of magical paints for Dean. He didn't know if he already owned some, but figured it couldn't hurt to have too much.
Just as they prepared to leave the alley, Harry spotted a familiar face sitting outdoors at a café. Seamus Finnegan was eating lunch with an older girl who looked like she might be his sister. The situation was too tempting to resist. He approached his roommate and loomed over him, blocking out the sun.
Seamus squinted an eye and looked up at the bulky, unfamiliar man. "Can I help you, mate?"
Harry's face split into a wide smile that he hoped was creepy. He just stared at Seamus until he began to grow unnerved, then winked.
"Yer lookin' mighty cute in them robes," he leered gruffly, then turned on his heel and walked away.
He looked over his shoulder to see Seamus gaping at him, and couldn't stop his laughter. It was disappointing that they hadn't encountered any of his other classmates. Flirting with Tracey or Katie in the form of a scowling football hoodlum would have been fun, even though they probably would have hexed him.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Hermione set aside the letter and smiled. She had read it more than two dozen times already—had even memorized it by now—but couldn't resist perusing it again. It had arrived several days ago via international owl, somehow able to track her down even in France. Since then, her mood had been buoyant.
It was a pleasant change from worrying over Harry's scar. He had reassured her that he'd send answers as soon as he had them, so there was little to do but enjoy her vacation.
She curled her toes in the sand and took a deep, contented breath. An old man passing in front of her turned his head to admire what it did for her bare breasts. She winked at him, but he couldn't see it behind her sunglasses.
It was the first time she'd ever visited the French Riviera and its topless beaches. What a boon that her parents had picked Nice for their summer holiday. They were currently napping, and she was taking advantage of their absence to soak up some sun. Not to mention the gazes of the men and boys who happened to walk by her towel.
She retrieved her bottle of sunscreen and squirted the lotion obscenely across her chest. Then she rubbed it in with both hands, taking special care to squeeze and massage her breasts until they shone. Her nipples grew rock hard, and she leaned back on her elbows to show them off. She felt every passing gaze that fell upon her, and reveled in them. Wearing her sunglasses, it was easy to catalogue every lustful glance. They fueled her fantasies at night. Thank Merlin Lavender and Parvati had insisted that she buy a toy.
For the past week, she had made a point of walking around topless whenever she could, delighting in her newfound power over men. A year ago, she would have been terrified to do so. Even her mother had remarked on her confidence. Her father reluctantly kept his mouth shut, knowing better than to complain when his wife was likewise baring her breasts to the sun.
Hermione absentmindedly caressed a nipple and glanced at the precious letter by her side. Her response to it was already winging its way to Brazil. She had received a warm reply from one of the twins whom Madam Pomfrey had discussed with her. Their names were Bruna and Beatriz Azevedo. Both were now 38, and both were powerful witches.
It was Beatriz, an accomplished healer, who had replied.
Beatriz, it seemed, was happy to answer her questions, partly because Hermione had been frank and self-deprecating about her own experiences. She couldn't wait to hear the woman's responses. Her worst fears had already been assuaged, as she'd learned there likely wasn't anything wrong with her. The twins' 'condition' had eventually settled as they matured. Beatriz had even hinted that it provided them with a couple magical benefits. Hopefully she was willing to elaborate. It thrilled her that there might actually be some advantages to her insatiable libido.
She had celebrated yesterday by indulging it. She had been aching with need in the absence of the Pride, and had long planned a little experiment anyway. The fact that not one but two boys had participated in it was just a bonus.
They were Americans, about her own age, whom she had caught staring at her while in line for a cold drink. She had smiled and pretended to be a French girl who spoke little English. Neither had been able to look her in the eye while her pert breasts were on display. She'd inclined her head and asked them to go for a walk down the beach. It was funny to listen to their hushed conversation about her. Both openly wondered about how far they could get with a French girl.
The answer, luckily for them, was very, very far. She'd led them to a more secluded stretch of rocky sand that was bordered by a grove of trees. After a subtle notice-me-not charm and a dash into the greenery, she'd dropped to her knees and beckoned them closer.
The boys had been stunned by their good fortune. She'd kissed and licked their cocks until they grew hard, her eyes never leaving theirs. Neither seemed to mind when she smiled wickedly and drew both their crowns into her mouth and suckled them until both were panting. She'd reveled in their looks of wonder until she could stand it no longer, then lay down and spread her legs. The unbridled desire on their faces had almost made her cum before they touched her.
They hadn't lasted very long the first time. One, she was certain, had been a virgin. He had cum the instant he slipped inside her. She'd merely smiled, teased him in French, and taken him in her mouth while his friend filled her over and over with his long cock.
For more than an hour she'd lain on her back while the boys took turns ravishing her. It was more erotic because they supposedly couldn't speak the same language, though she took delight in listening to their whispers about how incredible she was. She'd instructed them in French how to please her, and though they weren't great lovers, their enthusiasm more than made up for it. Her body had gone weeks without being touched, and was so overcome with lust that they'd been able to make her cum repeatedly.
Hermione had left them with exhausted smiles, limp cocks, and a story they'd repeat for the rest of their lives.
Her experiment had proven exactly what she suspected. The muggle boys didn't produce that wave of ecstasy when they came inside her. It must have something to do with the commingling of her magic with a wizard's. Still, she wasn't exactly disappointed. It was quite pleasurable research, and she would never forget the looks of awe that her American conquests had given her.
She grew wet again just thinking about it, and wondered if there was a wet spot on her bikini. Her legs spread a little wider of their own accord, and she could almost feel one of their cocks sliding deep inside her. An attractive man holding the hand of a woman walked by her spot in the sand. His eyes raked over her, and she fought the urge to assume the pose she had used for Harry's portrait. Merlin, the Pride was turning her into such a shameless whore.
Hopefully, Harry was making good use of her animated body. He should be gone from the Dursleys by now, and she couldn't wait to join him in August. Something was bothering him, and she wanted to get at the root of it. Preferably in his bedroom.
Until then, it was time for another stroll down the beach. Then a quick date with the little purple friend hidden in her suitcase. Or perhaps that French boy in a very full speedo. Experiments did require repetition to confirm their results, after all.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Harry grew increasingly nervous as the end of July approached. In two days, they would be accompanying Apolline Delacour for a consultation with a necromancer. He had no idea what to expect, but desperately hoped something could be done about the dark magic in his scar. He tried to put it out of his mind, but there was little to distract him.
His friends, at least, had responded to his letters. Neville had written to explain his earlier behavior. Harry was horrified to learn that his parents were nearly comatose in St. Mungo's, and that one of the people responsible was now running free. No wonder he had been so angry.
He hadn't interacted much with Neville last year, and vowed to change that in the coming year. Neville had been lost in the shuffle between the tension with Ron and his introduction to the Pride. Maybe if they grew closer, Neville could join it. Well—if the very idea didn't cause him to go into cardiac arrest. The shy boy seemed even less prepared for something like the Pride than he had been, but he hadn't forgotten how lost he'd felt when Angelina and Katie rescued him.
Letters from Hermione and Ron had arrived too. Hermione was on holiday in France, and seemed to be enjoying herself thoroughly. She would join him at Grimmauld Place when she returned, and the plan was for them to spend a week at the Burrow. He couldn't wait to see her.
Relations with Ron were still gradually improving. Some time at the Burrow might continue to mend the rift. But there was still no way they could tell him about the Pride, and he doubted that would change anytime soon.
None of the Weasley kids had shown up at Grimmauld Place yet. Sirius had told him that Molly and Arthur were members of Dumbledore's new Order of the Phoenix, but the Weasley matriarch had forbidden her children from entering the house. She had taken one look at it and declared it a death trap. He hoped she would change her mind after Dobby was finished with it. The place was badly in need of some entertainment, and the twins never failed to be amusing.
It was now mid-afternoon, and Harry was going a little stir-crazy. Sirius was napping yet again. Remus was running an errand for Dumbledore. There was no one else around from the Order, not that there ever really was. He only had a vague idea of who was in it and what they were doing.
He went downstairs to get a snack, and then decided to explore the library. Many of the shelves had been declared safe. Dobby had cleaned most of the house by now, though several rooms still reeked of mildew and dark magic.
Harry entered the library and gazed at the ancient bookcases that reached all the way to the ceiling. The place was pristine now, even if there was an atmosphere of lingering darkness. It probably came from the books themselves. There seemed to be thousands of them.
A row of books on the bottom shelf caught his attention. They looked extremely old, and had barely legible titles. He reached for one, and jumped when a voice spoke.
"You'll find those quite boring, I assure you, unless you read Latin."
He turned to find Narcissa Malfoy sitting in a dark corner of the room, a book spread across her lap.
"Er, I didn't see you sitting there."
"Apparently not," she replied. Her demeanor was cold and formal, but she didn't seem to be hostile.
He stood there awkwardly for a moment, not knowing what to say. He had never exchanged words with her that he could recall. She was a beautiful woman, with long blonde hair accented with unusual streaks of black. Elegant silver robes concealed the alluring curves that he'd accidentally glimpsed in the pensieve. Their eyes met, and the memory caused him to flush. Her gaze was intense. She didn't have a maternal air about her, and it was hard to imagine her doting on Draco.
"I'm sorry to disturb you," he said. "I was just looking for something to read."
She inclined her head but didn't answer.
Harry mentally shrugged and continued casting his eyes over the titles. Nothing really piqued his interest. He saw no books on dark magic, and suspected the library may have been purged of them. Or perhaps they had just been put out of easy reach.
He finally picked a book on using transfiguration in duels, which was his weak spot. He decided on the spot to return to his room to read it. The library had several comfortable nooks, but Narcissa Malfoy's presence made things awkward. It felt impolite to leave without addressing her, but he wasn't sure what to say.
She looked up when he hesitated in front of her chair.
"I just wanted to say—I'm sorry, I guess, for whatever you're going through," he said. "I don't know you, but I'm glad you're free of Voldemort. Professor Dumbledore said you've been very helpful."
Narcissa observed him coolly. "My circumstances certainly do not constitute freedom, Mr. Potter, and I did not do anything to help you. I was left with no choice."
"Er, right. I just meant that I understand what it's like to be hunted by Voldemort, and I'm glad you're not one of the people trying to kill me. I'll leave you alone."
She spoke just before he could exit the room. "Mr. Potter."
"Yes, ma'am?"
"I am in no position to make demands, given my status as a refugee," she said distastefully, "but I would ask you not to antagonize my son further, should your paths cross. He made the same vows I did. He can no longer defend himself from your attacks."
Harry scowled at her. "He's the one who does the antagonizing, Lady Malfoy. And I don't attack people without provocation. Draco, on the other hand, recently attacked me in the hallways, just to make sure I couldn't beat him at quidditch."
"Is that so?" she asked, closing the book in her lap.
"Yes."
"That sounds out of character for my son. It's my understanding that you make his life at Hogwarts very difficult."
He snorted. "Then you don't know your son. He goes out of his way to get me in trouble. He mocks me constantly. He attacks me in the halls. He calls my best friend a mudblood to her face. I could go on for days."
She examined him curiously, perhaps looking for traces of deception. "Nevertheless, I love my son, Mr. Potter. It is for his benefit that I have made this awful choice. Please do not seek him out while we are here."
He nodded. "I'll stay out of his way if he stays out of mine. Is he really not going back to Hogwarts?"
"Of course not."
"He's always seemed to run the show in Slytherin, and he's got Crabbe and Goyle. I thought he might be safe."
She looked at him as if he were an imbecile. "You clearly have no idea what Slytherin house is like."
"I know enough to know I don't like the place."
"Spoken like a true Gryffindor. You of all people should know how unsafe Hogwarts can be. Lucius would find a way of getting to Draco within a week, maybe less."
"He'd really hurt his own son?"
Narcissa sniffed. "Personally? No. But the mark on his arm gives him little choice but to obey his Master. He is too cowardly to defy the Dark Lord. He can always produce another heir if he succeeds in killing me."
Harry blinked at her tone. It was just now sinking in how dangerous her betrayal of her husband had been. Even so, she spoke of her own death with a cold formality. Her demeanor reminded him of Daphne; or at least the Daphne he knew before their arrangement had begun.
She raised an eyebrow when he didn't respond. "You do not believe me?"
"No, I believe you. I just have a hard time imagining a husband who would murder his wife in cold blood."
There was an uncomfortable silence after his answer. She assessed him with her gaze, as if she thought he might be mocking her.
"My situation is really none of your concern, child, but in his eyes, I have stolen his heir and betrayed him. My own house elves are no doubt waiting on me to step out from under these wards."
"Can you not divorce him?"
"No. My contract makes that impossible. We will be free of each other only when one of us dies."
She met his eyes haughtily, and he didn't know what to make of it. "No offense, but pureblood marriage customs seem idiotic to me."
"Blood traitors and mudbloods seem idiotic to me."
"I don't like that word."
"My humblest apologies," she said, with the most elegant sneer he had ever seen.
"You're rather full of yourself for someone depending on charity to survive."
Narcissa swallowed what would probably have been a very acidic response and composed herself. "I'm sorry. The past few weeks have been a tremendous strain on me, to say the least."
"Well, I'll try not to make it worse for you. I meant it when I said I was sorry for you. I think you're doing a very brave thing. The right thing, even if you've got your own reasons."
She inclined her head. "The sentiment is appreciated."
He turned and left the room, wondering if he would ever understand why purebloods insisted on living in such an archaic world.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"Shall we, gentlemen? It's best not to keep a lady waiting," Dumbledore said, reaching out a hand.
"Especially when the lady is a veela," Sirius said with a grin.
Harry rolled his eyes. "Try to keep your tongue from lolling out, Sirius. She might cut it off."
"No promises."
Dumbledore smiled at their banter. They grasped his hand, and an instant later the trio disappeared from Grimmauld Place in a flash of phoenix flame. They reappeared just outside the gates of Hogwarts.
Apolline Delacour stepped out of the shadows. "Messieurs. I appreciate your punctuality."
"Madame Delacour," Harry said with a bow. "It's good to see you again."
"Likewise, Monsieur Potter. And this must be the infamous Sirius Black."
Sirius went a little glassy-eyed in the presence of a veela, even though her allure was tightly-controlled. He hadn't bothered disguising his appearance, as he wasn't a wanted man elsewhere in Europe, and Apolline had taken Harry's word that he was innocent. She was willing to believe anything that presented the British Ministry in a bad light.
"At your service, milady," he replied. "My godson seriously understated your beauty."
She smiled at Harry. "Did he?"
Harry huffed. "No, he didn't. Thank you for allowing my godfather to accompany us, Madame. Please try not to hold his behavior against me."
Sirius clutched his heart as if he were wounded.
Apolline merely smiled again. She held out a leather-bound book. "This will take us to a veela sanctuary in Switzerland. We will be very safe there, but I must caution you to be on your best behavior. We will likely encounter very few people. Nevertheless, do not provoke anyone," she said, looking directly at Sirius.
The three men touched the book and the group disappeared.
They reappeared on a moonlit dirt road that trailed the edge of a large lake. Its water was placid, and even in the darkness Harry could tell that it was pristinely beautiful. He looked around and discovered a snow-topped mountain range looming in the distance. It seemed they weren't far from the Alps. The air felt crisp and clean.
He had mistakenly assumed they were going to France, but this certainly wasn't a disappointment for his first trip outside of Britain. He had never seen a landscape so sublime, and couldn't wait to see it during the day.
"There is a village just ahead," Apolline said. "I have secured lodgings for as long as we need them. We shall rest this evening. In the morning, I can give you a brief tour, though there is not that much to see. Our appointment with Madame Vautour is at 3pm."
"Thank you for your hospitality," Dumbledore replied. He too seemed impressed by the serenity of their surroundings, and had the grace not to ask about their safety. Harry suspected that anyone who dared to attack this place would be enthralled by a horde of veela and ripped to shreds.
He glanced at Sirius, who was looking in every direction curiously. He had no doubt expected to land in a pile of naked women. A beautiful Swiss landscape empty of people probably left him disappointed.
She led them on a brief walk down the road, until they reached the edge of a small village. Harry could see a handful of people walking the streets in the distance. There were several heads of shimmering, silvery hair, and he could feel the unrestrained allure of multiple veela even from so far away.
Sirius stopped dead in his tracks and stared, an odd look on his face. Harry snapped his fingers and he blinked out of his stupor.
"And that is why we are not staying in the village proper," Apolline said with an amused smile. "Come with me, gentlemen."
They turned left and walked up a moderately steep hill. A quarter mile later, they reached a large chateau that overlooked the lake and the entire village below. Harry saw the lights of perhaps fifty homes dotting the darkness below them.
"I think you'll find the accommodations quite comfortable. There will be time tomorrow to appreciate our surroundings. I am sorry to say that Fleur will be unable to join us, Mr. Potter. She asked me to express her regrets. She is traveling with a cousin."
He had to school his features not to express any disappointment. Spending some quality time in Fleur's bed would have helped chase away his anxiety. "Er, that's alright. Please tell her I said hello. And thank you for everything you've done."
"You are quite welcome. I am hopeful that things will go well for you tomorrow."