Rebirth

ONE YEAR LATER

"'Arry! Bienvenue!"

Harry blushed bright red as Fleur held his shoulders and kissed him quickly on each cheek. "Hello, Fleur," he said, self-consciously smoothing his hair as the radiant young woman stood back again, beaming at him. The quarter-veela had barely changed in the four years since the Triwizard Tournament; she was still as stunning as ever, and Harry found he was searching his brain for words that had suddenly disappeared when confronted by her smile. Good Lord, how did Bill manage it everyday?

"What are you doing 'ere, 'Arry?" she asked cheerfully, tugging on his arm to draw him deeper into the tidy cottage as she closed the door behind him. "Bill! 'Arry is 'ere! Would you like a drink, mon ami?"

"Yeah, that'd be great."

"Water? Lemonade? Ze pumpkin juice?"

"Water would be great, Fleur, thanks."

"Harry! Look, Renee, it's Uncle Harry!" Harry turned away as Fleur bustled around the sunny kitchen, fetching a glass. Bill was framed in the arched doorway that led from the kitchen to the living room, Renee perched on his hip. The taller man was smiling as broadly as his wife, and Harry couldn't help envying Renee a little bit, growing up in such a happy household. Though judging by what he'd heard from Ron, when Fleur's temper exploded, you found the nearest couch and hid behind it. "Sometimes you can see her eyes get all bird-like and such," he'd imparted to Harry in a whisper at the wedding reception, just before the start of their final year at Hogwarts. "Charlie says if you get her really riled up, she's liable to sprout wings! Veela can do that, you know. Well, the full-blooded ones, that is. Dunno about Fleur. I reckon I don't want to find out. You?"

Harry admitted he didn't.

Bill always seemed to take it in stride. Harry supposed it had something to do with handling Sphinxes so frequently during his years in Egypt; it tended to put other things in perspective after you'd learned how to talk to a Sphinx without dying.

"All right, Bill?" he asked. The older man's smile proved infectious, and Harry found himself grinning.

"Right as can be expected in a household where I'm outnumbered two to one by women," Bill replied, a twinkle in his eye as he shifted Renee on his hip. The little girl was idly chewing the collar of his shirt but he didn’t seem to mind.

"'E loves it," Fleur said conspiratorially near Harry's ear as she swirled around him with the kind of infinite grace only a Veela could possess. She pressed a cold glass of water into his hand before crossing the brief floor space between herself and her husband. "It makes 'im feel 'e is ze Roi de la Colline."

"I prefer king of the mountain, Fleur, not hill. You know that. Hills are so provincial."

Fleur laughed and gently lifted Renee away from her avid mouthing of her father's shirt. "Do you see, 'Arry? 'E is insufferable, non?"

Harry chuckled and reached out to Renee, who was now settled comfortably against her mother's shoulder. "How's she enjoying her first birthday?" he asked.

"You remembered!" Fleur exclaimed happily.

"Of course I remembered," Harry said with a laugh. "She was only born a week before my own birthday, after all. It kind of sticks in your memory when stuff like that happens. Besides, Mrs. Weasley's been going on and on for weeks about what to give her. By the way, Fred and George told me to tell you cheers, Bill, for being the first one to give her a grandchild. They say it'll do her good to get the spoiling out of her system now, so that when she's got more grandkids in the future, she'll know what she's doing and won't be such a mother hen. So cheers, mate."

Bill snickered and leaned against the archway. "Tell them I'll use that as blackmail sometime in the near future," he said with a wink.

"Will do."

"Would you like to sit, 'Arry?" Fleur asked, gesturing into the cozy living room that waited beyond the arch. Everything about this cottage was cozy: cozy kitchen, cozy living room, cozy little nursery with cozy kittens trompe-l'oeiled on the walls. It wasn't what one would expect from a family as exotic as theirs: a French quarter-Veela and her Curse Breaker husband, who was still finding Egyptian sand in his shoes after all these years. Harry supposed, after all that adventuring and worldly experience, the reward was this: a small, neat cottage in a rural district, far enough from town to go unnoticed but close enough to civilization to still be connected. It was so normal.

He found he envied Renee all the more. Absolutely nothing about his life had ever been normal.

Harry shook his head. "No thanks, Fleur, I can't stay long. Moody and the others are waiting on me back at Grimmauld Place."

"Got a lead have you?" Bill asked.

"A couple actually, all in the same area, which makes us hopeful they're the real McCoy. Some of Moody's more reliable contacts around the Black Forest say they've seen some shady activity, so we're going to investigate."

"'Oo is going?"

"Moody, myself, Tonks, a couple of others. Not Remus, though. Moody says wizarding people in that area of the world are especially superstitious about werewolves; he doesn’t want to bait them. We could use you though, Bill, if you're interested."

Bill shook his head. "Sorry, Harry. Wish I could, but I'm making the most of the family leave Dumbledore granted me." He kissed Fleur's forehead, and the top of Renee's soft curls.

Harry nodded. "I thought you'd say that. Just figured I'd offer. Trust me, you've got the better end of the deal." He smiled, reached into his pocket and withdrew a slim, neatly wrapped package. "But before we go, I wanted to make sure I gave Renee her birthday present. I would have left it with Mrs. Weasley to give her at the party, but I wanted to see her unwrap it." He smiled hopefully.

Fleur took the package with an excited coo and held it carefully where Renee could get a good look at it. "See, Renee?" she said, bouncing the little girl. "See what Uncle 'Arry 'as brought for you? What do we say, mon cher?" Renee just watched him with huge blue eyes, identical to her mother's.

Harry laughed. "I promise, it doesn't bite."

The small group clustered around the table as Fleur sat with Renee and helped the little girl pull apart the wrapping paper. Inside was a slim box, similar to those used by jewelers, which when opened revealed a small mountain of carefully fluffed tissue paper. Fleur carefully spread apart the tissue.

And gasped.

"Oh, 'Arry," she breathed, looking up at him with wide eyes. "It is too much!"

Inside was a delicate silver locket. Elegantly engraved on the outside of the heart-shaped pendant were the initials RCW (Renee Constance Weasley). Inside was a very small picture of the little girl with her parents, which had been taken the day after her birth. The small family was waving at the camera, beaming.

"I know she's too young for jewelry," he said, shuffling his feet nervously. "But I thought you could maybe set it aside until you thought she was old enough to wear it? I dunno, Ginny and Hermione both have lockets and they seem to like them, so I thought… I dunno. I can take it back." He was beginning to feel foolish under Fleur's blue gaze. Why hadn't he done the sensible thing and bought the little girl a stuffed hippo like Ron had suggested?"

"Oh, 'Arry, it is merveilleux," Fleur said, and when Harry looked up he was surprised to see tears in her eyes. She stood up, carefully handing Renee to Bill, and wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. "Do not even ZINK of taking it away!" she said firmly, and Harry decided he'd do anything she asked if she just promised to not stop hugging him. It was the Veela charms again. "We will put it zomewhere safe, and when she is old enough we will give it to 'er, and she will love it. Oh yes. Oui!"

Harry found he was blushing again. "I just thought… I figured, this is as much your birthday as it is hers, and it's a really special one, so I thought it'd be nice to… I dunno, give it a family feel."

Bill clapped him on the back. "Cheers, Harry," he said, smiling warmly. "It's great."

"You think?"

"Oui, we do." Fleur bussed him on both cheeks again before stepping back to gently lift the locket from its case. The silver seemed to gain fresh brilliance set against her ivory skin.

Harry ran his fingers through his hair self-consciously. "So… Happy birthday, Renee," he said, with a half-smile for the little girl who was staring at the locket her mother was showing her. She tore her eyes away from the shiny charm at the sound of her name and reflexively opened and shut her fingers in Harry's direction, in a childlike pantomime of a wave. Harry found his smile soften and returned the gesture.

"You sure you can't stay a bit?" Bill asked. Then, enticingly, "We've got caaaake."

Harry laughed. "I wish!" he said. "But I really do have to go. Moody'll skin me alive if I keep them waiting. But save me a slice, yeah? With luck we'll be back for the big shindig next week. Why is the party next week again?"

"They wanted to double up the gift-giving between you and Ren-len here. So you'd better make sure you're back or mum will go spare. Besides, they had to wait so Charlie can make it up from Romania."

"And he couldn't come sooner because…?"

"Mating season."

"Ohhh."

"Dragons like to mate when it's hot. Makes them frisky."

"Zey are not ze only ones, oui?" Fleur teased, looking at Bill through her lashes.

"Okay, that's absolutely my cue to leave," Harry said, grinning despite the heat that suffused his cheeks. He put down his glass, gave Fleur a quick hug -- quick as he could manage without letting go too soon -- and shook Bill's hand. "Happy Birthday, Renee!" he said, gently stroking the little girl's soft red curls; if she had her mother's eyes, she most certainly had her father's hair. She cooed and flailed out for his hand, trying to bring it to her mouth. He laughed and pulled away.

"Good luck in Germany, Harry," Bill said, and his tone now was more serious. "We haven't seen head nor tail from You-Know-Who in months -- it'd be nice to flush him out at last and have done. But be careful, yeah?"

"Always," Harry answered.

"We want Renee to know the person who gave her the locket."

"Don't worry about me, Bill," Harry assured him. "I can take care of myself."

"Jus' be careful anyway," Fleur chimed in as they walked to the door. "We worry."

"You sound like Mrs. Weasley."

"Merci."

It seemed to take him forever to get outside and on his way again, though he didn't mind a bit. There was something comforting about the knowledge that a family like Bill and Fleur's was out there during this dark period of wizarding history. It was nice to know that despite all the hardships and dangers of life during the Second War, something as simple as hearth and home could still exist.

Enjoy it, Renee, he thought somberly as he walked away, back towards his original Apparation point; not because he had to, but because he wanted to enjoy the cool air on his face. You never know what might happen to change it. You never know.

He hoped she never had to find out.

"And then the wizard would plant his feet and say, Lo, I summon you, creatures of deep places. Lo I call you unto me in the sacrificial bargain. So I call, and so you must answer. BOO!"

Renee laughed, clapping her hands happily, and Bill relaxed his face out of its grim rictus, grinning at the little girl in her crib. "And that was how wizards in the old days did very bad things," he explained, stroking her hair. "So don't you even think of trying that, young lady, or your mother and I will be very, very cross with you, understand?"

Renee cooed and latched onto the side of his hand, furrowing the brow between her blue eyes as she sucked with abandon.

Bill chuckled, prying his hand loose. "Sometimes I think we took you off your bottle too quickly, Ren-len," he said with a soft laugh.

"She took 'erself off it, mon amour, rappelez-vous." Bill looked over his shoulder to see Fleur standing in the doorway, arms crossed loosely over her stomach. She was wearing her favorite blue satin negligee and matching dressing gown; they made her eyes seem to glow. "She wanted to eat like 'er père, oui? I remember zis very well." Her eyes were sparkling.

Bill grinned, reaching behind him to take her hand and draw her deeper into the room. "Eat like or eat period?" he teased. "I think I'm her favorite chew toy."

"Non, zat would be 'er stuffed puppy. She likes to suck on 'is ear." Leaning over the edge of the crib, Fleur pressed a tender kiss to her daughter's forehead. "Bonjour, le petit," she purred, affectionately running her fingers through the little girl's auburn curls. Renee started babbling excitedly in indecipherable baby language, pulling herself into a standing position using the rungs of her crib, Snuffles the stuffed puppy tucked under her left arm. Fleur laughed, nodding as if in understanding. "Oui, mon coeur, it sounds très intéressant."

They listened amiably for a few minutes until Renee turned her attention away from them and plunked down on her bottom, continuing her conversation with Snuffles. Various new stuffed animals and other playthings were tucked around the nursery, gifts from friends and family who would be unable to attend the party the following week. Fleur had rolled her eyes at her father's gift of a diamond-encrusted pacifier. "'E does not understand children, mon père," she'd explained, not without affection, tucking the pacifier back into its box and setting it aside. "We will reset ze stones as somezing else and give zem to 'er when she graduates from 'Ogwarts. She will never know ze difference, and neizer will 'e." Gabrielle had sent along a much more suitable china doll with silky red hair, which was given a place of honor alongside Charlie's baby shower gift of a plush dragon that could be charmed to puff baby powder smoke.

Bill felt Fleur lean against his shoulder and wrapped his arm around her waist; Fleur laced their fingers together over her stomach. "I can't believe it's been a year," he murmured, resting his cheek atop her head and feeling her sigh contentedly. "Look how much she's grown. This time next year she'll be as tall as me!"

Fleur chuckled. "I zink zat is an overstatement, mon amour," she rejoindered, reaching to the side with her free hand to rub his stomach. "You are taller zen mos' men, and she will be only two."

"Still, it feels that way, doesn't it?"

Fleur sighed again, and this time it sounded a little sad. "Oui."

"Hey." He kissed his wife's temple, nudging her cheek with his nose to get her to look up at him. "What's wrong? You've been quiet all night."

She gave him a wistful smile. "I wuz zinking about 'Arry," she admitted softly. "I am worried about 'im."

Bill brought up his free hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. "He'll be fine, love," he soothed. "He's been out of Hogwarts for a year now, and Moody's been teaching him everything he knows. If there's one wizard out there who can take care of himself, it's Harry Potter."

"Non, I mean… I'm worried about 'im. 'E seems so lonely, mon Bill. 'E did not seem to worry zat 'e might miss 'is party. But, 'e should worry. 'E should want to be zere, wiz all ze people 'oo love 'im and want 'im to be 'appy." She frowned thoughtfully, looking away and cushioning her head on his arm again. "'E is too obsessed wiz zat monstre. It is not good for 'im."

Bill sighed. "I know," he agreed softly. "But You -Know-Who's done a lot to Harry, most of it negative. I don't think Harry's ever really going to feel he fits in anywhere until He Who Must Not Be Named is out of the way. He's too afraid that he'll lose someone else if he doesn't get rid of that monster. The sad thing is, he's probably right. And I don't think there's anyone who could argue that when You-Know-Who finally falls, Harry will be the one pushing him down. He may have a hero complex, but most of that comes from the fact that he's a natural hero. I don't envy him; not one bit."

They stood in silence for a minute, watching Renee play.

"I jus' wish 'e could be 'appy."

"I know, love. Me too. He will be, someday."

"Like us?"

"Well, I don't know about that. Not many people out there are happy like us."

"Oui? Why not, mon amour?"

"Wellll, for one thing, not many men out there can boast having such a drop dead gorgeous wife."

Fleur laughed and punched him lightly in the stomach. "Oh, oui? And I suppose next you will say zat not many women can boast 'aving an 'usband 'oo is so irresistable?"

Bill gave her a brilliant smile. "Your words, love, not mine."

"You are an 'orrible, arrogant oaf."

"And you're a petulant, high strung drama queen."

"Why is it zat we were married?"

"Because we fell madly in love with each other."

"Oh, of course." She turned so they were stomach to stomach, smiling playfully as her arms wrapped around his waist. "Always I am forgetting zat."

Bill grinned, looping his arms around her slender body. "Good thing I'm here to remind you," he murmured, fingers toying with her long, silvery-blonde hair. "Wouldn't want you running off and falling in love with some other Weasley because you'd forgotten about me."

"Why do you zink I would fall in love wiz anuzzer Weasley?"

"Didn't you know? At least half the population of Great Britain consists entirely of Weasleys. We breed like rabbits. And we're all fiendishly handsome."

Fleur laughed again. "No need for worrying, mon amour," she assured him, tucking her hands up the back of his shirt so her fingers could stroke up and down his spine. "You are ze only man, Weasley or uzzerwise, 'oo I love. Je promets."

"So women are out of the question then?"

"Bill!"

"Sorry, sorry. Just thought I'd ask."

Her eyes hooded. "It is a wonder to me zat ze Weasleys can, as you say, breed like rabbits," she purred, "if zey are all as beastly as you, monsieur."

Bill winked and in one fluid motion scooped her into his arms, making her squeal with surprise and delight. "We have other skills that outweigh all that," he assured her.

"Oui? Such as?"

"Do you need me to remind you?"

"I zink zat would be mos' beneficial, oui."

He kissed her. Kissing Fleur was always an experience, though he'd done it hundreds of times in the years since they met. There was a dizzying loss of control every time their lips met, as his brain became aware that his mouth was touching a Veela; only a quarter one, but a Veela nonetheless. It tended to wake base impulses that were otherwise dormant in the deepest, most savage regions of his brain. Kissing Fleur always helped Bill remember that men had killed for women like her; had died for the same. It also helped remind him that Fleur was nothing like that and had never deliberately pressed her advantage around him; only at times like this, when her own emotions were boiling over and she couldn't control her intrinsic magic.

They broke apart, gasping, and just like that the cord was severed, though a thin filament remained, making the air between them simmer. "Enough?" he panted, knowing it wasn't but asking anyway because he loved hearing her ask for more.

"No," she said breathlessly with an unsteady shake of her head. "I zink zis requires further study."

"I agree." Shifting her into a more comfortable position in his arms, he winked at his daughter, who was only half paying attention to them, her eyes drooping sleepily. "Past your bedtime, Ren-len," he said. "You get some sleep. Daddy's going to tuck mummy into bed."

"I zink you 'ave zat backward, mon Bill."

"You'll have to set me straight then."

"Mmm, oui." She turned her attention back to the crib. Softly she began to sing, in a voice like silver bells. It was a familiar lullaby, one of Renee's favorites. Bill watched as the little girl snuggled down obediently, hugging Snuffles while the soothing tones of her mother's voice drifted over her. Within a minute, she was fast asleep.

"I still say that's some kind of magic," he murmured.

Fleur rested her head on his shoulder as he turned them around and carried her toward the nursery door. "Non," she said dreamily. "She jus' likes to 'ear me sing."

"She's not alone."

"Per'aps I will sing to you, oui?"

"I would like that."

"And you will tell me ze stories you tell 'er, about ze wizards and witches of many years ago?"

"They aren't stories, Fleur. No little girl of mine is going to get stories when history is so much more interesting." He whispered a quiet spell and the soft light that illuminated Renee's room went out as the door closed gently behind them. "But I'll tell you. I'll tell you anything you want to hear."

"Tell me you love me?"

"I love you."

"In French?"

"Je t'aime."

"In Dutch?"

Bill laughed. "You first."

Fleur kissed the side of his neck as he carried her through their bedroom door. "I do not know ze Dutch," she giggled.

"English is fine."

"I love you."

"In French?"

"Je t'aime."

"In a hundred years?"

"The same."

"That's what I like to hear," he murmured, laying her tenderly down on the bed and stretching himself out beside her. "Especially when you're the one saying it."

"Mm-hmm, do you know what it is zat I like to 'ear?" Fleur's fingers walked up his arm.

"What?"

She grinned wickedly, pushing gently on his chest to roll him onto his back so she was hovering over him. "Nuzzing," she purred. "I prefer when your mouth is doing uzzer zings. Like zis."

She kissed him again. Bill had to agree, this was much better than talking.

ELSEWHERE…

"Is all prepared?"

"Yes, Master."

"I will not suffer failure. If a mistake is made, you will do the suffering, not I. I will see to it personally."

"All arrangements have been made to your specifications, My Lord. All details have been seen to."

"That is good. I would not like to have to punish you again, Bellatrix."

"No, Master."

"Though I will, if you disappoint me as you did in the Department of Mysteries."

"I understand, Master."

"The child will be taken?"

"Tonight, my Lord. I have dispatched two of your servants to handle the situation."

"Names?"

"None, my Lord."

"Excellent. And when they return with the child?"

"I will see they are dealt with, Master."

"As you should."

Voldemort turned from his study of the landscape; he was able to view the world through a magic mirror, which he had charmed to allow him to see anywhere on the globe from the safety of his sanctuary in the Scottish Highlands. He fixed Bellatrix with a hard, red stare. "When Harry Potter returns in one week's time from his wild goose chase to Germany, he will find his home life in ruins and all those he loved will be dead. We, of course, will help that along as best we can, but what will truly destroy him will be the knowledge that they did it to themselves. This is the danger, Bellatrix, of interbreeding with half-breeds and impure races. Don't you agree." It was not a question.

"Yes, my Lord."

"Those like us, Bellatrix, are beyond the kind of passionate impulses that drive such creatures. When a pure blood is enraged, it is a righteous anger. When we are threatened, we do not strike blindly out of inhuman rage. We strike with the cunning that has been given to us from centuries of our forebears. We have learned patience. That is why we will outlast all these muddied half-breeds who burn themselves out like moths to a candle flame. They strike in a moment out of blind instinct. We absorb the strike and pluck their wings as a child would a fly. The predator versus the prey. It is a cycle as old as time itself."

He turned back to the mirror. A wave of his hand caused the image on the surface to shimmer then melt away, revealing an outside view of a simple cottage tucked amongst green, rolling countryside. It looked utterly peaceful in the starlit night. Cozy.

"One thing a predator must know, Bellatrix, is how its prey will react when under attack," he said, watching as two dark figures approached the cottage on silent feet. "Half-breeds are so hopelessly simple to read; their minds are as open as a barnyard ox. They act on instinct, even when their blood has been tempered by human genes, and the most basic instinct is that of a mother protecting her child." He laughed as he watched the Death Eaters deftly remove the protective wards which had been set up around the cottage. Did the inhabitants think he had forgotten who they were? Fools. "So simple, really. Almost too simple. What is even more pathetic, however, is the reactions of the soppy fools who have pledged their lives to things like her. They'll do anything for them. I'm quite excited to see exactly how far he'll go."

He watched as the Death Eaters stole through the front door into the cottage, Bellatrix still penitent behind him. Oh yes, Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour were the ideal pawns in this particular chess game, though no doubt they would have cast themselves as bishops, moving in diagonal lines to recent history. What they didn't seem to realize was they symbolized the one thing Voldemort could not allow his enemies to have.

A future.

Diagonal lines are not the same as parallel, and the Dark Lord had a special dislike for children born in July.

To be continued…