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SIYE Time:10:52 on 28th March 2024
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Birds of a Feather
By DukeBrymin

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Category: Alternate Universe
Characters:Harry/Ginny
Genres: Romance
Warnings: None
Rating: G
Reviews: 337
Summary: A little girl, kidnapped from her loving parents and found by someone else. A little boy, rescued from those who didn't want him. When they meet, something wonderful happens.
Hitcount: Story Total: 90993; Chapter Total: 6574
Awards: View Trophy Room




Author's Notes:
Constructive criticism cheerfully accepted. Praise greatly enjoyed. Flames ignored haughtily.




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Birds of a Feather, Chapter 6, Delacour Happenings

oooooooooo

Harry was the happiest boy in the world. Living with the Delacours was practically perfect. He couldn’t remember the family that he lived with before the mean man and woman, so this was the best life he could imagine.

Giselle and Pierre Delacour were almost the happiest parents in the world. They had a beautiful daughter, and a wonderful almost-son. The only spot of bad in their world was the continuing absence of their daughter Madeline. As the years wore on, their hopes diminished, until finally they contacted the investigators who had been searching for the little Veela girl and told them to lower the priority. It hurt them to do so, but they had decided to concentrate their attentions on their current children, and save their sorrow for private moments. In this way, they hoped to be able to devote the necessary time and attention to Fleur and Harry.

Life in the Delacour estate was extremely pleasant. Harry and Fleur got along swimmingly, in spite of their occasional minor squabbles. These were mostly caused by the girl’s desire to mother the boy, and the boy’s desire to be just as grown-up as the girl. But these were easily solved, or at least, diminished, by application of liberal amounts of ice cream.

As Pierre was rather rich, due to an inheritance from a dotty uncle who chose, for some reason, to name Pierre as the sole beneficiary of his will, Giselle didn’t ever feel the need to work outside the home, which was a great relief to the whole family. Harry and Fleur were both very energetic, exuberant, and blessed with magical power. This meant that Giselle spent a lot of her time herding her children, curbing their excesses, and trying to reverse their accidental magic. Both parents doubted, however, that the term “accidental” should be applied to what their children did. Could it be accident when all the vegetables in the cold drawer suddenly ended up tasting like chocolate? Or when they found all of Harry’s books nestled alongside the boy himself when they went in to wake him up in the morning? Or what about the time that Fleur decided that her bedroom needed to be fluorescent green? Surely this was magic-on-purpose. But it was all part and parcel of raising magical children, the Delacours agreed, and refused to stifle the creativity so inherent in the young ones. Well, with one small exception–Fleur had inherited the Veela trait of casting fireballs, and had a tendency to sprout flames from her hands when she was angry. Giselle had to sit her down for a long talk about this capability, and make her promise to never take out her anger on another living being. Their Chateau had a special room for the letting-off of Veela anger (officially it was known as the Fire Room, although Pierre thought of it as the Hell Hath no Fury Room) , and Pierre never went in unless he was sure it hadn’t been used in the previous day–the latent heat was enough to make him feel rather faint.

Harry hadn’t manifested the fireball-throwing trait, yet. In fact, his Veela heritage was visible only in his improved sense of smell. And, to be truthful, that was as much a curse as a blessing. The Delacour house-elves had to work overtime to make sure no unpleasant odors drifted into the dining area of the house–grass-flavored filet was just as disgusting as one might think. But Giselle had no doubts that he would prove to have other Veela characteristics, which would, undoubtedly arrive in their own time.

Time passed in the Delacour household, without too many happenings of note. The family went on outings together, where the children were introduced to culture and art. And one day, they even visited the zoo.

oooooooo

“Fleur! Harry! Are you ready to go?” Giselle hated yelling–she felt it made her age faster than she should. For the first years of raising her children, she had tried very hard not to raise her voice. But, as time went on, she became more and more resigned to the necessity of, sometimes, yelling like a Headmistress.

“Oui, Maman!” came Fleur’s response, along with the pitter-patter of her feet running down the stairs from her bedroom.

Giselle listened more, but couldn’t hear anything from Harry.

“Harry! Are you coming?” she yelled again.

In response she heard a slight mumble from Fleur, but, yet again, nothing from her boy.

“What was that, Fleur?”

“Um, I don’t think he’s coming, Mama,” Fleur repeated.

Something in her expression alerted Giselle that there might be something here that needed investigating. “Why not, cherie? He was so excited to see the monkeys, why wouldn’t he come now?”

“He’s in the bathroom, Maman. I told him and I told him to come, but he wouldn’t come out. So I just yelled ‘Fine, stay there!’ and I left.”

“Okay, sweetheart, I guess I’ll go see what the problem is.” Giselle put her purse down on the counter and climbed the stairs to the children’s bathroom. She tried to open the door, but the knob wouldn’t turn. “Harry! Open the door, please!” she called through the door.

“Mama!” came Harry’s sob-filled voice. “I can’t! Fleur locked me in!”

Giselle unlocked the door with her wand and opened it quickly. A small, black-haired blur crashed into her, and Harry flung his arms around his mother. “I couldn’t get out, Mama! I tried and tried, but the door wouldn’t open, and I thought you were going to leave without me! Please don’t leave me! I’ll be good, I promise!” Harry’s sobs were increasing as he clung to his mother.

“Shh, little one, it’s all right. I’m not going without you. And what did I tell you? I’ll never leave you, remember?”

Harry sniffled a bit, and wiped his nose on Giselle’s pants. “Uh-huh. That’s what you said, but I was so scared when I couldn’t open the door!”

“It’s okay, Harry. We love you, and we’ll always love you and take care of you.” She crouched down to pull him into her arms, then stood up carefully. Muttering a quick limpiadora spell to clean the spots where Harry had wiped his hands and nose, she turned away from the bathroom and headed toward the stairs. “Now, can you tell me what happened between you and Fleur? She said you wouldn’t come out of the bathroom, and she yelled at you.”

Harry looked abashed at this, and hung his head. “I’m sorry, Mama. I was just trying to make my hair look nice and pretty like Fleur’s. Hers does what she wants it to. She brushes it and it’s all smooth and shiny, but mine just pokes up. I wanted to look nice for the monkeys!”

Giselle stifled a giggle at this as the couple started descending the stairs.

“Oof, Harry, you’re getting too big for me to carry down the stairs. What have you been eating? Rhinoceroses?”

Just as Giselle had expected, Harry giggled at this. “No, Mama. Just what Peti gives me. Do you think she’s feeding me rine. . .ocer. . .uz?”

“No, ma cherie! We don’t eat rhinoceros in this house. But maybe you’re having too many chocolate croissants for breakfast?”

“But, Mama! Peti makes ‘em taste so good! Ooh, can I have one now?” Harry had forgotten his earlier fear about being abandoned and Giselle felt a little thrill of happiness, knowing that she had grown to know the boy so well, and that he was so happy in her family.

“Well, okay, dear, but I don’t think I’m going to be able to carry you downstairs anymore. Maybe you should carry me. . .”

The wide-eyed, shocked look on Harry’s face made Giselle giggle, out loud this time, as they rounded the corner into the front room where Fleur was waiting. She had her face buried in a book and seemed oblivious to the by-play.

“Fleur, cherie, I got Harry out of the bathroom. Fleur!”

The girl in question looked up in surprise. “Oh, are you ready now? Hi, Harry, why didn't you come out of the bathroom?”

Harry looked at Fleur with a sorrowful expression on his little face. Giselle saw this, and felt her joy fade a little at seeing his distress.

“I’m sorry, Fleur, I just wanted to comb my hair, and look as pretty as you, but it wouldn’t be flat. Mama, can I have yellow hair like Fleur?”

Giselle groaned inside. Where Harry had learned how to give puppy-dog eyes was a mystery, but learn them he did, and they were powerful. He didn’t use them often, but when he did, it was all Giselle and Pierre could do to not give in.

On second thought, though, she decided that this was actually a good thing. “Harry, do you really want yellow hair like Fleur’s?”

Harry bounced up and down in her arms. “Oui, Mama! Please, please can you change it for me?” He thought for a bit. “Just for today? I like black, but I want to look like Fleur today!”

Giselle set Harry down and pulled out her wand. “Okay, Harry. Now, hold still.” She waved her wand and whispered the spell, and Harry’s hair started to turn a light, corn-stalk yellow. The tips turned first, and slowly the change grew up the hair until it reached the scalp. She conjured a mirror, next, and held it so he could see the change.

Harry’s face lit up in glee. “See, Fleur? I’m bootiful, just like you!”

Fleur looked at her little brother and smiled. “Yes, Harry, you are. You look beautiful, just like me.”

“Okay, children, we need to go now, otherwise we might miss the monkeys.”

Harry immediately ran to the entryway. “I’m ready, Mama, let’s aprate!”

“Just a second, Harry, I have to tell Fleur something.” Turning to her daughter, and lowering her voice, she said, “Fleur, you have to be careful how you say things. When you told Harry to stay in the bathroom, your magic locked the door. That’s why Harry couldn’t get out.”

Fleur’s face fell. “I didn’t mean to, Mama, I was just upset at him 'cause he wouldn't come. I want Harry to come to the zoo with us!”

“I know you do, sweetheart, and I’m not mad. I just wanted to remind you to be careful what you wish for so strongly. Now, let’s see a smile on that beautiful face of yours, and we’ll go visit the monkeys!”

Fleur smiled up at her mother, hugged her quickly, skipped over to where Harry was waiting and took his hand. “Are you ready to go, Harry?”

Harry, who had been waiting almost patiently, smiled brilliantly at his sister and yelled, “Yeah! Let’s go see monkeys!”

Giselle looked fondly at her children, and once again sent up a prayer of thanks that they had found Harry that day so long ago.

oooooooooo

The zoo proved to be a hit with both youngsters. Fleur, much to her surprise, liked the monkeys more than anything else. While Harry had been incredibly excited about seeing them, she hadn’t originally shown much interest. But they had to drag her away from the monkey cages after more than half an hour had passed. Harry liked seeing their escapades, but they ended up taking second place to the reptiles. Once they stepped inside the cool rooms that housed the snakes, and toads, and crocodiles, and newts, and komodo dragons, they had just as hard a time getting him out of there as they had Fleur away from the monkeys.

As they were leaving the reptile house, they happened to pass the cage of a large anaconda.  As most of the reptiles were doing, it was sleeping on a branch.  Watching it were a couple of children, and a harassed-looking mother.  Harry walked close enough to hear the young girl say, "Mama, this is boring.  Why doesn't the snake do something?"

Harry couldn't see why the girl thought the snake was boring--to him it was beautiful.  As he watched, the snake seemed to wake up from its nap.  The girl jumped up and down in her excitement, and her brother pulled on their mother's hand to show her what was going on.  The poor mother, for her part, just sighed, and said, "Okay, you saw the snakes.  Let's go do the shopping before your father gets home."  Disappointment clearly visible in the children's faces, they trudged out the door, leaving Harry unfettered access to the front of the cage.  He stepped forward, and the snake raised its head even more, tongue flicking in and out quickly, trying to get a taste of Harry's scent.

"Hi there," the little boy chirped to the snake.  "I'm glad you woke up.  You're the most bootiful snake in here, even better than the python!"  The enthusiasm in his voice was something to behold.  Unnoticed by Harry, Giselle and Fleur had moved up behind him to try to hear what he was saying.  Upon hearing her son, Giselle gasped, which startled Harry, and drew the attention of the snake.

"Harry, what were you saying?" his mother asked, putting on an appearance of calm.

"I was just telling the snake that it was bootiful, Mama."

"Are you sure, dear?  Were you speaking like this?"

Harry didn't know for sure what his Mama was saying.  Of course he was speaking like normal, couldn't they understand?  "Yes, Mama, why?"

"Well, it sounded like you were hissing at the snake, like maybe you were trying to speak snake language.  Were you pretending to do that?"

"No, Mama, I was just talking."

Giselle thought for a minute, but was interrupted by her daughter.  "No you weren't, Harry!  You were hissing, I heard you.  Mama!  Tell Harry he was hissing!"  Fleur angrily folded her arms and gave Harry a look that he clearly interpreted as the "You're going to be in so much trouble!" look.

"No, Mama, I wasn't.  I was just talking!"  Harry was desperate to have his mother believe him.  His parents didn't ever hit him, or beat him, but he loved them so much that even a disappointed look was enough to make him very sad.

"Fleur, please be quiet for a bit; I need to figure out what happened."  Fleur was a little miffed that her mother talked to her like that, but, knowing that she wasn't going to win this battle, subsided into grumpy silence.

"Harry, can you do me a favor?"  Harry nodded vigorously.  "Okay, can you talk to the snake again?  Pretend Fleur and I aren't here, and just tell the snake something."  Giselle hoped that by standing close enough, she'd have a better chance at hearing what was going on.

"Okay.  Um, what should I tell it?"

"Just whatever you want.  Maybe you could tell it about the other snakes you saw, or maybe the monkeys?"

Harry thought for a bit, then smiled.  "Okay, I'll tell her about how much Fleur liked the monkeys, especially when they were throwing--"

Giselle interrupted quickly.  "No!  Harry, just tell him--or her--about the monkeys; you don't have to tell her about throwing . . . things . . ."

Harry looked quizzically at his mother, then shrugged internally, and nodded.  He didn't understand why he couldn’t tell about the most interesting part of the visit, but then, there were lots of things he didn't understand about grown-ups.  He turned to the anaconda, and started regaling it with the tale of Fleur's delight, starting, of course, by explaining how she hadn't really wanted to see the monkeys in the first place, but then got really excited at watching them swing through their habitat.

Giselle listened to the boy's monologue, which proceeded in a rather stilted fashion, as if he were hyper-aware of the presence of the two females behind him.  But, eventually he forgot about their presence, and that's when it happened:  Harry started hissing again. As Giselle watched, the anaconda raised its head and looked directly at Harry.  She felt her heart skip a beat.  A Parselmouth; Harry was a Parselmouth.

oooooooooo

The revelation that Harry could speak to snakes engendered quite different reactions, depending on the constitution of the audience.  If Harry were present, then the news was discussed in a rather matter-of-fact tone, much like discussing whether it would rain that day, or whether the house-elves would serve chocolate croissants for breakfast.  If Harry wasn't present, but Fleur was, then it was discussed more-or-less the same way, but the conversation was peppered with admonitions to the girl to keep this knowledge to herself; that it was a family secret.  When the participants consisted solely of the adult Delacours, the conversation was usually hushed, urgent, and involved Pierre and Giselle trying to decide whether to tell someone in authority about Harry's talent.

Neither of the Delacour parents felt that Parseltongue was a mark of a dark wizard, but they were not naive enough to believe that all the people with whom Harry would come in contact would feel the same way.  After about a week of thinking, and discussing, and pondering, and weighing the options, Giselle and Pierre decided that they would impress upon their children that this was a family secret, and leave it at that. 

oooooooooo

Towards the end of that summer, both Harry and Fleur discovered something weird about their mother.  Harry noticed that it was getting slightly more difficult for him to sit on her lap; it didn't feel as snuggly as it used to, as if he had to sit farther away.  Fleur, on the other hand, noticed that her mother was getting bigger in the belly.  She thought very hard about this, and, with the tact that only an eight-year-old can show, asked about it.

"Mama, are you getting fat?"

Giselle was in the middle of dressing when the impertinent question came. She hesitated for a moment, then continued pulling on the dress she had chosen. “Why do you ask?”

Fleur rolled her eyes, something she was entirely too good at for a girl of her age, and, in an exasperated voice, said, “Mama, your tummy is poking out more. That means you’re getting fat.”

Giselle smiled, and continued preparing for the day. “Fleur, darling, can’t you think of any other reasons I might be getting a bigger stomach?”

Fleur’s cute face wrinkled up as she thought about this suggestion. She sat down on the floor, so as to be able to concentrate completely on the subject. After three or four minutes had gone by, she looked up and shook her head. “No, Mama, unless you swallowed a watermelon seed and it’s growing in there. But Papa says that that doesn’t really happen, and Antoinette was just teasing. Was Antoinette telling the truth?”

“No, ma cherie, watermelon seeds don’t grow in our stomachs. What kind of nonsense is Antoinette trying to feed you?”

Fleur shrugged halfheartedly and didn’t answer.

Giselle smiled and turned back to her jewelry case. “Fleur, have you ever wondered where babies come from?”

The young girl blinked at this, in her opinion, abrupt change of subject. “Why? Aren’t you going to answer my question?” She started to put on the pout and big eyes that never failed to melt her father’s heart, but her mother just laughed.

“Come now, my girl, you don’t really think that will work with me, do you? I taught you how to do that.”

Fleur’s face went from pouting to disgruntled, and Giselle sighed. “Come here, my sweet, and we’ll have a talk. It’s time you knew something.”

The two part-Veelas sat together and talked for quite some time, Giselle explaining the miracle of life and babies, and Fleur alternately declaiming the entire idea as disgusting, and excitedly asking for more details, depending on whether the topic was mechanics, or end-products.

At the end of the discussion, Fleur excitedly jumped up. “Can I tell Antoinette that I’m going to be a big sister again? She thinks having a pony is the best, but she’ll be soooo jealous!”

Giselle chuckled. “Well, maybe in a little bit, dear. We still have quite some time to go before you get your little sister or brother, and your papa and I wanted to keep it a secret for awhile longer.” Noticing the disappointed look in Fleur’s eyes, she relented slightly. “How about if you tell Harry–he doesn’t know yet.”

Fleur’s sadness immediately vanished as she squealed in delight. And without saying anything else, she ran out of the room to find her dear little brother.

Harry wasn’t as excited as Fleur was for the impending birth of a little sister. But he wasn’t upset about it. After all, Fleur was a great big sister to him, when she wasn’t trying to get him to play horsies with her, since he always had to be the horse, and he was getting rather tired of the saddle, so he had no reason to think he wouldn’t like a little sister too.

oooooooooo

In the coming months, Giselle and Pierre both found it within themselves, occasionally, to lament their children finding out about the impending arrival of their sister so early in the pregnancy. Harry and Fleur asked at least once a day if this was the day little Gabrielle was coming to their family. Even the reminder that she probably wouldn’t come until after Christmas failed to stifle their curiosity, chiefly due to the word “probably” in the remonstrances.

But, finally, the day came when Giselle went into labor. Pierre called the mid-wife, who was a close friend of the family, and she came and assisted with the birth. Pierre compared this birth to the previous births of his children, and found himself very grateful for the advances in magical midwifery, that made it possible to take away the pain that his dear wife was feeling. He still winced remembering how frantic he was to make his wife just stop hurting, and the crushing guilt he felt for putting her through that. Truth be told, he hadn’t wanted to put her through that torture again, but Giselle had always wanted more children, and finally turned him around to her way of thinking. Remembering the past like this made the loss of Madeline even more poignant, but he pushed back that pain, as he always did, and concentrated on the fact that he had a beautiful daughter and a delightful son. And, if the crying coming from upstairs was any indication, yet another wonderful daughter to spoil and care for. And, judging by the date, February 14th, she’d definitely be a heartbreaker.

Harry’s reaction upon meeting Gabrielle for the first time was predictable. “She’s pretty, Mama, but why can’t I play with her?”

Fleur, in her much-more-mature mode, explained to Harry that little Gabby still had to sleep a lot, and they’d have to be content in dressing her up and feeding her biscuits. This prompted a very kind father-children discussion about what were appropriate activities for babies to be involved in, and a firm decree that they must clear any activities with a parent if it hadn’t already been approved.

Gabrielle proved to be a stunningly beautiful child. But then, Veela children tended to be, and Fleur had been also, so this wasn’t a surprise. What was a surprise was how much both Harry and Fleur adored her. Harry had a naturally loving disposition, the short time of living with his aunt and uncle having, thankfully, failed to damage that, and enjoyed spending time with his little sister. Fleur was only slightly less well-disposed towards Gabrielle, and that was only because Antoinette had told her once that “little sisters always steal your makeup”. Fleur knew what makeup was, and wasn’t sure why a baby would want to steal it. It didn’t cross her mind, until her mother mentioned it, that Antoinette really didn’t know what she was talking about, since she was an only child.

oooooooooo

The years passed for the three Delacour children, and they grew together, fought and made up, and learned together, as children are wont to do.   The spring of 1988, however, marked a major turning point in Fleur's life.

"Mama!  Mama!" Fleur came yelling into the house.  She had been down to the corner market, something that Giselle had, with trepidation, started allowing her to do when she had turned eleven that January.

"Merciful heaven, my girl, why are you screeching about like a bansidhe?"  Giselle had been sitting down to a cup of cocoa in the sun room, and wasn't thrilled to have had her quiet ruminations interrupted by her daughter.  Of course, she shouldn't really have been surprised--Fleur and Harry tended to play loudly, and that always set Gabrielle off too, so the Delacour residence was frequently the site of a full-on ruckus.  But Gabrielle was having a nap, and Pierre had taken Harry to see a Quidditch match, something the young boy had been rather anticipating for most of the week now, so Giselle could be forgiven for expecting a little more time for herself.

"But, Mama, the man was just staring at me, and smiling!  Then he started saying things--it was really weird!"  Fleur sounded and looked more disturbed than anything else.

Giselle sat back in her chair and thought for a bit.  She had been expecting this, and truthfully was a little surprised it hadn't happened earlier, but now it was here, and she needed to take care of the matter.  Thankful that Gabrielle was still sleeping, she rang for the house-elf.  Peti appeared with a muted 'pop', and said, "Yes Madame, what do you require?"

"Peti, will you please bring us a light snack, perhaps some eclairs--"  Fleur grinned at hearing this; it must be a Special Talk they were going to have now, "--and perhaps some guaraná?" 

Peti curtsied with a soft, "Of course, Ma'am," and hurried away to the kitchen to prepare the requested snack.

Fleur looked at her mother expectantly.  Giselle gestured Fleur to a chair close to herself, and waited while her daughter sat.  "Fleur, there are some things I need to teach you about being a Veela."

The young girl smiled--she had asked her mother to explain what a Veela was many times over the past couple of years, and her mother had always put her off, telling her that she would explain everything when the time was right.  Apparently, now was the time, although she wasn't sure exactly how this conversation should follow from the happenings at the market.

Her mother laughed softly.  "Yes, I know, ma chere, you have been wanting to know for quite some time what it means to be a Veela.  And now is the perfect time.  The boys are gone, and Gabby is asleep, so we shouldn't be bothered for quite some time.

"Now, first, I have to tell you a story.  Many, many years ago, there was a family of large birds.  They were known as the Vell.  They were very smart, and very powerful, and very beautiful.  One day, the King of the Vell found himself being inexplicably drawn to a very beautiful human maiden walking through the woods.  Now, one of the powers that the Vell had was that they could turn into something that looked a lot like a human."

Fleur exclaimed, "I know, I know!  He fell in love with the girl!  Right?"

Giselle smiled.  "Yes, dear, he did.  He changed into his man-form, and approached the girl.  She was initially very frightened, but the man who came to her was exceedingly handsome, so she conquered her fear and allowed the man to court her."

"Did they get married, Mama?"

"Yes, Fleur, they eventually got married.  But, the Vell didn't do what humans do for marriage--they have something they call a Mating, or Bonding, which humans think is just like a marriage, but is much, much more.  We'll talk about that in a bit, though, after we get done with our history lesson.

"Now, the King of the Vell brought this maiden back with him to see his people, and she was rather worried, because they were all birds.  But at a command from the King, they changed into their human forms, and the girl lost her worry, but then felt rather abashed, because they were all so beautiful.  The King noticed that she had become very, very quiet, and asked her what was wrong.  The girl explained that she felt so very plain next to them, and that she knew he could never love someone as boring as she was.  The King laughed at this, which caused no small amount of consternation to the young girl."

Peti popped in at that moment, with a silver tray, on which she had laid out a wide selection of croissants, eclairs, and bananas and dulce de leche.  Peti's husband, Georges came with her, bearing the requested drinks.  Giselle unfolded her legs, leaned forward, and took a croissant, knowing that her daughter would tease her endlessly if her first choice was something with chocolate.  "Thank you, Peti, these look marvelous.  And thank you, Georges, for your help too."

The little house elf smiled and curtsied, while her husband sketched a quick bow, then they left to the kitchen, where Peti was tending a soup on the stove.

Giselle took up her story again.  "The King then explained to the human girl that the Vell had an inner drive, a push, to find one specific person to Bond with.  And once they find that person, it doesn't matter who it is, or whether or not they are handsome, or beautiful, or even nice, they can either Bond with them, or deny the Bonding  and never fall in love with anyone.  Then the King explained that she was his Mate, and he thought she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, and would she Mate with him?

"Well, the young maiden blushed bright red, as the term mate in human terms means something much baser and less noble than Mate meant for the Vell, but she agreed, as she didn't have any other prospects, and, in fact, had fallen in love with him."

Fleur bounced in her chair, excitedly.  "How romantic!  Oh, do you think I'll find my Mate?"

Giselle grimaced at this.  "Fleur, I certainly hope that you find a man with whom you can be happy.  If you happen to find a Mate, then that would be wonderful, but not everyone does."

Her daughter looked confused.  "But, Mama, you said that the Veela always have Mates, and they can't love anyone else."

"No, dearest, I didn't."  Fleur looked incensed at her mother's seeming inconsistency.  "Listen, my child.  The Vell had that drive, but the Veela, which we are, aren't so bound by biology.  There's a difference.  Yes, we are descended from the Vell, but also from humans.  This means that there are some differences.  One of them has to do with the Bonding.  Because we are Veela, the Bonding drive isn't consistent.  Many Veela don't have a Bonding desire, and instead have the opportunity to choose whom they want to be with.  Then it's left up to the individual to find a good person, their Chosen, with whom they can be happy."

"Does that mean that some Veela still have a Bonding drive?"  Fleur asked.

"Yes, my dear, some of us do."

Fleur thought for a bit while Giselle peeled a banana and daintily anointed it with dulce de leche, an affectation she had acquired when she and Pierre had visited Punta del Este, when they were first married.

"Mama?  Did you have to Mate with Papa?"  Fleur looked a little hesitant at asking this question, as if afraid that her mother would be upset with her for her impertinence.

"That's an interesting question, ma cherie.  What do you think?"

"Well, you two are obviously in love, so, does that mean you got to Choose him instead of having to Mate with him?"

"Do you think that if your father was my Mate I wouldn't love him?" Giselle asked.

"Well, Aunt Marie chose to not follow her Mate, didn't she?  I think it would be much better to not be Bonded."  Fleur pronounced this last with the certainty that only an eleven-year-old girl can show.

"Your Aunt Marie is special, Fleur.  She is one of the strongest people I know.  Her Mate was a stuck-up snob who felt that blood purity was more important than anything."

Fleur interjected, "So he wouldn't have married Aunt Marie?  Wouldn't mixing Veela blood with his make it less pure?"

"You're right, Fleur, he wouldn't have married her.  If your Aunt Marie hadn't rejected the Bonding, she would have been his concubine, at best, and always an embarrassment to him.  But Marie decided that she would rather live alone than have that kind of life, so she left him.  She's lonely, yes, and won't ever be able to fall in love again.  But I think she's much happier than she would have been."  Giselle snickered at a thought that crossed her mind then.

"What's so funny, Mama?  I think it's sad."

"Yes, Fleur, it is sad that Aunt Marie is alone.  But what I was laughing at was the way in which Marie repudiated the Bonding.  You see, normally the Veela can just walk away from the Mate, and state that she rejects the Bonding, and that's that.  But Marie was so disgusted by this man, that she called a press conference to do the repudiation.  The look on Mal-- um, the face of the man was priceless, and it's taken him a long time to live down the stigma of having been rejected by a Veela.  Of course, in England it's not such a big deal, but here in France everyone knows about Veela and their customs, and to have been rejected by one means that he's pretty much a laughingstock among the Magical community."

Fleur giggled at hearing this, but then sobered up.  "You never answered my question, Mama.  Are you Mated to Papa?"

"Yes, my dear, we are a Mated pair.  But, as you can see, we were very lucky.  I met him at school, and knew as soon as I saw him that he was my Mate.  But, thankfully, even though it was very difficult, I was able to get to know him well before I had to tell him about the Bond.  In fact, he told me he loved me before I even mentioned the Bond.  That's when I knew we'd be happy together."

"Why was it difficult?"

"When a Veela sees their Mate for the first time, they are drawn towards him or her.  When I saw your father, I had a great desire to just throw my arms around him, and kiss him, and never let him out of my sight again.  Fighting that urge was one of the hardest things I've ever done."

"But why did you fight it?  I would have just given in, I think."

"But, you see, I wanted him to love me for who I was, not because of some biological urge, or because I was Mated to him.  One of your many-times-great-grandmothers had done the easy thing–she just gave in to the Mating Drive, and that caused her to have occasional doubts about her husband.  She was too blind to see his love for what it was, and always worried that he didn't really love her like she wanted him to.  Her story is passed down as a caution to us to not rush things."

Fleur thought about that for awhile, as she desultorily nibbled on the last banana.  Another question arose in her mind, then.  "What if my destined Mate is already in love with someone else?  I mean, how horrible would it be to finally find my one true Mate, and have him already be in love, or even," she gasped, "married?  Would I have to be his concubine, or be lonely for the rest of my life?"

Giselle was impressed at the amount of thought that Fleur was giving to this discussion--she truly was ready for learning about her heritage.  "One of the wonderful parts of a true Mating, Fleur, is that neither Mate really feels any desire for anyone else.  When I was of an age that I could have been interested in boys, my Veela Bonding Drive kept me from even looking at anyone, until I met your father.  But, correspondingly, he was never really interested in any other girls before meeting me.  He says that he was rather worried about it--he even pondered the notion that he, um. . ."

"Used his wand with his other hand?"  Fleur suggested.

"Where did you hear that phrase, ma cherie?  That's a rather coarse way of putting it."

"Antoinette said it once, and I told her that you wouldn't like it, but she wouldn't listen."

"Well, crude as it is, it gets the point across.  Anyway, your father was worried for awhile, but since he couldn't find any desire for anyone, he reluctantly came to the conclusion that he just wasn't interested in romance, or love, or anything at all.  But then, he saw me, and all those thoughts, and feelings, and hopes came rushing into his mind and body, and he felt, not only love, but a great relief.  Of course, he didn't tell me this at the time, he made me work for it, but in the end, we were each utterly convinced that we were head-over-heels in love.  And we haven't looked back since."

Fleur sighed, touched by the romance of her parents' love story.  But then a thought crossed her mind.  "Mama, do you think I'll have a Bonded?"

Giselle, who had known this question was going to come up, had an answer prepared.  "Well, there's not really a way to know this young, unless you happen to meet your Mate.  What will happen is that you'll either find yourself interested in dating more than one boy, throughout your adolescence, or else you'll find the idea of dating anyone repulsive, until you find your Mate.  If you find yourself being attracted to more than one boy, then you don't have a Mate, and can choose whom you want to be with.  If, however, there is one specific boy that makes your heart race, and whom you feel a strong pull towards, you can be pretty sure he's your Mate.  The ultimate test comes if you can somehow kiss the boy whom you think is your Mate--when you kiss for the first time, you'll know for sure."

"But how, Mama?  Will it feel different, or something?"  Fleur had voiced this question through a mouthful of pastry, which made it somewhat garbled, and drew a disapproving glare from her mother.

"Cherie, that's rather uncouth, don't you think?"  Fleur nodded, slightly ashamed, but much too interested in their discussion to let it interfere.  "That's something that's rather individual, Fleur.  When your father and I kissed for the first time, it was as though fireworks went off in my heart.  That's not even close to what it felt like, but it's the only way I've ever been able to describe it.  Your father says that for him it just felt like the best kiss he'd ever had, although he didn't really have that many to compare it with.  For you it might be different.   That is, if you have a Mate."

"Oh, what if I don't have a Mate?" Fleur wailed, having changed her opinion completely through the course of the discussion.

"Then you'll be able to be extremely happy anyway, dear.  Having a Mate doesn't guarantee happiness, dear.  Just look at your Aunt Marie--she would have been miserable.  Your father and I, on the other hand, are happier than we ever could have thought possible.  But, from what I've heard from Veela who haven't had Mates, they are in the same boat.  Some of them are blissfully happy, and others aren't.  The only difference is in finding your husband--those with Mates can only choose the one that their biology picks, whereas those without get to choose one by whatever method they want."

Fleur had to think about this for a while, Giselle could see, so she took that opportunity to slip out of the room to see if Pierre was home yet with Harry.  The boys were just coming in, so she was able to explain to her husband what was going on, and warn him to steer clear for awhile, until the mother-daughter conversation was over.

The look on Pierre's face was a mixture of relief that he didn't have to sit in on the conversation, and chagrin that his daughter was old enough to actually have to have that discussion. 

"Harry, Fleur and your mother are having a private chat.  What do you say we go see if Gabby is awake, and go out for ice cream?"

Harry's smile, which was already bright from the one-on-one time he'd had with his father, grew even brighter.  "All right!  I'll go get her!"  And with that, he raced up the stairs, trying manfully to take them two at a time, although it was a stretch for his eight-year-old legs.

"Wait, Harry!  If she's asleep we don't want to . . .!  Ah well, I guess she'll be awake anyway, after that."  Taking advantage of their moment of peace, Pierre held his wife tightly, and kissed her deeply.  "Mmmm, I've missed you, cherie.  How's the talk going?"

Giselle shook her head a bit, to clear it from the incredible wave of love and desire that had washed over her at the kiss from her Mate, and cleared her throat.  "Pretty well, actually.  We're just about done discussing the Veela Bonding Drive, and I think she's realized that she can be happy whether or not she has a Mate."

Pierre pulled her even closer, and rested his forehead against hers.  "Have I told you lately how happy I am that I'm your Mate?" he asked, in a low, husky voice.

Thrills ran through Giselle's body, making her wish that their children were already in bed, and she could spend some more quality time with the man she loved.  Belatedly, she recognized the tone of his voice as a question.  Embarrassed, she blushed and said, "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

Pierre smirked at the effect he'd had on his wife.  The benefits of having a Veela as a Mate were many, but the ones he loved most were the unquestioning love that he knew she had for him, and the strong drive that she had to be with him, both romantically and otherwise.  Knowing this gave him a degree of influence over her body that was unmatched in normal human relationships, but both of them recognized this, accepted it, and, even more, reveled in it.

"Why, my dear, weren't you listening?" he asked, again in a deep, sensuous voice that he knew turned her knees to jelly.

Giselle's groan of desire was enough to make Pierre pull her even tighter against him, and kiss her again, more passionately.  His suggestion to Harry forgotten for the moment, his thoughts turned to the possibility of getting the house elves to watch the children for a bit while he took her to bed.  Luckily, his hands had only undone the top two buttons of the back of Giselle's dress when Harry came bounding down the stairs again.

"Papa, Papa!  Gabby's awake, and we can go, but Gabby needs to go potty and she won't let me get her up and--" He noticed that his parents were blushing and holding each other very close, and automatically turned around, rolling his eyes.  "So, can we go soon? Please?  When you and Mama are done loving each other?"

Sighing resignedly at the interruption, but grateful that they hadn't been caught in a further state of dishevelment, Pierre finished buttoned his wife's dress, and turned to his son.

"Yes, Harry, we can go.  Let's go get Gabby ready, shall we?"

With a last backward glance at Giselle, full of a promise for continuing their loving each other that evening, Pierre climbed the stairs behind Harry.

Taking a minute to calm down, thinking wistfully of their honeymoon, when they were able to spend a week at the coast, without any interruptions, Giselle turned and went back in to continue her discussion with Fleur.

oooooooooo

After Fleur returned from a quick trip to the W.C., she had another question.  "Mama, what does all this have to do with the creepy man at the market?  Are you saying he's my Mate?"  The shudder she produced at that thought was rather impressive, albeit much less impressive than the ones she'd be able to produce as she matured.

"Oh no!" Giselle answered.  "That isn't even close to what kind of urges a Bonding produces.  And remember, Fleur, in a Bonding, the Veela feels the pull even stronger than her Mate.  I'm assuming that you didn't feel any kind of desire to get closer to that man?"

Fleur blanched, and shook her head vehemently.  "Thank Merlin, no!", she exclaimed, which made Giselle smile before she went on.

"The reason that man was trying to talk to you and be closer to you is something called the Veela Allure.  It is as much a curse as it is a blessing, but it's one of the most well-known and widely recognized traits of the Veela.  Have you heard of it?"

Fleur, with difficulty, only bounced in her chair once.  She had done as much studying in the Chateau Delacour library as she could, to try to discover all the wonderful secrets that she knew her mother was keeping from her, and was excited to show her mother what she knew.

"Well, I read the books in the library--"  She broke off, not sure whether this was an allowable activity or not.  She was rather heartened when her mother just smiled and nodded for her to go on.  "They said that Veela are always very beautiful, and have this allure thing, but I'm not sure I understand what that means.  The dictionary says something about attraction, but I don't know what magnetics has to do with Veela."  Giselle had to stifle a grin as she took in the perplexed look on her daughter's face.

"Did they say anything else about the Allure?"  she asked, knowing that there had been more in those books, and wondering if Fleur had managed to find all the books that had been placed there for precisely this occasion.

"No, Mama, just a bunch of stories about men falling in love with Veelas and doing stupid things, like jumping out of the top seats of Quidditch stadiums, or--" her face brightened perceptibly as she remembered one of the other stories.  "There was this one man, who wanted to show a Veela how much he loved her, so he decided to build something for her.  He thought and thought and thought, and, for some strange reason decided that he'd make a huge wall to impress her.  It didn't say why he chose that--do you think it was to keep her safe from other people?  But, that wouldn't work 'cause they could just fly over it on their brooms."  She thought for a bit more, then went on.  "Anyway, so he commanded all his people to build this huge wall, and it goes on for just forever, and it's really high and strong.  But the Veela didn't like the man, and went away to keep him from being stupid around her.  Oh, Mama--is someone going to build a wall for me?"  Fleur's face reflected a mix of emotions at this thought; part excitement that anyone could like her that much, but part disgust that someone could be that stupid.

Giselle smiled at this--she well remembered reading that same story, and was pleased that Fleur had researched as hard as she had.  "Allure, my dear, is a word that means--"

"Attraction--I know, Mama, but I don't know what that has to do with me."

"Please don't interrupt, ma cherie, that's rather rude."

"Sorry, Mama," Fleur responded, shamefacedly.  "But, I just want to know what's happening, and what my life will be like as a Veela!"

"I know, dear, I know.  But, I promise I'll tell you everything you need to know before you need to know it, if you'll have patience."  Giselle waited for Fleur's nod of assent before continuing.

"Now, my girl, attraction can mean many things, but the thing we're interested in now is when a girl thinks a boy is interesting, or when a boy thinks a girl is pretty--that sort of thing."

"Oh!  Just like Antoinette thinks Jason is hot, right?"

"Yes, Fleur, that's the right kind of attraction.  Now, when a Veela comes of age, a couple of things happen--"

Fleur interrupted again, and Giselle sighed, giving up, temporarily, the battle for politeness.  "What do you mean 'comes of age'?"

"It means that the traits, the special abilities and characteristics a Veela has that are different than humans, start to come out in full force.  Some of them you've had for a long time, like being able to smell things really well."

"That's a Veela thing?  I thought it was just a family thing!"

"No, dear, that's a Veela trait, and usually the first one to manifest.  Do you remember how it was before I taught you the Menos Odorificous charm?"

Fleur grimaced.  "That was horrible, Mama, having to smell everything, all the time!  And the stables!  I thought I was going to have to give up liking horses!"  That would truly have been a heart-breaking day for the girl, although her recent fascination with monkeys seemed likely to bump horses down to second-place for awhile.

"Yes, it was a great day when that charm was invented.  With that spell our sense of smell is only slightly better than a normal human's, which is nice, most of the time."  She had to add that last, remembering a particularly vile cologne that she had had the misfortune of being subjected to at the last Ministry function. 

"How else are we better than the others, Mama?"  Fleur asked, hoping to find something exciting to help her feel better than Antoinette.

Giselle knew exactly what Fleur was thinking, and a small part of her remembered being in the same situation, as an eleven-year-old girl, and desperately wanting to believe she was better than her childhood fair-weather friend. But the adult part of her made her say, "Now, Fleur, we aren't better than the normal humans, just different.  I don't want you running off to tell everyone that you're better than they are, understand?"

Fleur nodded her head, but her mother knew from the mischievous grin that Fleur was unsuccessfully trying to hide, that sometime in the future, there would be a rather acrimonious discussion between the two girls.  Thankfully, with Fleur going off to Beauxbatons, while Antoinette started at the very exclusive Balthazar Johannes Stuyvesant School for the Magically Gifted in Amsterdam, their rivalry should diminish.

"But we were talking about the Veela Allure, weren't we?"

Fleur, an eclair-and-a-half ahead of her mother, swallowed and nodded.

"When a Veela comes of age, one of the things that happens is that he or she becomes very attractive to the opposite sex.  For example, that man in the market saw you, and probably thought you were  the most beautiful 11-year-old he had ever seen.  And even more than that, he wanted to get to know you, to impress you."

"You mean, like the man who built the wall?"  Fleur asked.

"Exactly, my dear.  There is just something about Veela that attracts people like that.  Lots of boys will act rather stupid when they're under the power of Veela Allure, and you can probably get them to do anything you want.  Now, the interesting thing is that if you have a Mate, then that Bonding drive will protect him somewhat from Veela Allure.  He will think you're beautiful, but he'll keep his senses about him, and probably not understand why everyone else around him is acting like an idiot.  There are also some men who have rather strong minds, who will not be affected as much as the others.  I would suggest that, if you don't have a Mate, that you try to find one of those strong-minded men.  You want to be able to have a thinking man, rather than a love-besotted fool."

Fleur thought rather hard about this.  "It seems kind of like they'd turn into my slaves.  I could get them to do anything, couldn't I?"

"Yes, Fleur, you could use your Allure to make men do many stupid things.  But, " and here Giselle's face grew very stern, and her voice became filled with steel, "you will not use that power over men unless you are in danger, do you understand?  If you do, then not only will your father and I punish you, but, depending on where you are, you could be arrested and jailed.  England is such a benighted country that they classify the Veela Allure as being only slightly less heinous than the Imperius curse.  Even though France is more civilized, it's still considered a form of unlawful compulsion."

Fleur's face had fallen slowly as her mother had explained these facts of a Veela's life, until she looked as if she were about to cry.  "But, how am I going to stop it?  I didn't even know what I was doing when the creepy guy at the market started staring at me!"

Giselle's look softened as she contemplated her daughter.  This was definitely the reaction she'd wanted, as it meant she wouldn't have to worry about Fleur using her powers in such a way as to cause problems.  "Fleur, my dear, it's not as horrible as all that.  I will teach you how to control your powers, to dampen them down so that the people around you aren't affected by them.  You can't turn off the part that makes men think you are beautiful, but you can learn how to mask the part that makes men do stupid things around you.  It will take awhile to learn, and it's something you have to work on quite a bit, until it becomes second nature, but I'll be with you, and I have no doubts you'll be able to manage this before you go off to school in the fall."

Fleur stifled a sob and climbed into her mother's arms.  After a few minutes of consolation, she raised a tear-stained face and said, "Mother, why did we have to be Veela?  It just seems so hard for us.  So far, all I see is that we can smell things really well, and people think we're beautiful.  But then we have this power that is illegal, so we have to keep it turned off.  Granted, everyone will think I'm beautiful. . ." she continued under her breath, although Giselle heard her anyway, "more beautiful than Antoinette."  Louder she said, "but it just seems like a lot of bother."

Giselle gave her daughter's complaints the contemplation they deserved.  "Fleur, my dear, I can see why you would think that.  We've truly talked about some things that come across as being unpleasant.  But, there are some offsetting benefits that I need to explain also, and, in my mind, they more than make up for any perceived negatives.  To start, can you think of any other Veela traits that we haven't discussed?"

Fleur pushed aside her worries and thought back to her readings.  "Well, the books talked a little about birds, but it wasn't very clear what they meant.  Do we really turn into birds?"

Giselle chuckled a little, and said, "Yes, that's true, but it doesn't really tell the whole story.  First, do you know what Animagi are?"

Fleur thought, then shook her head.  Deciding she was okay for the time being, she got off her mother's lap, grabbed a bottle of guaraná, and reclaimed her own seat.

"An animagus is a person that can change into an animal.  In doing so, they gain all the characteristics, both physical and mental, of the animal, but still have a human mind guiding them.  For example, someone who is an owl animagus can fly, see things a long way away, and, just like our post owls, find people using their inner sense."

Fleur's smile broke through any lingering fears.  "That sounds wonderful, Mama!  Can I become an animagus?  Please?"

Giselle smiled, and nodded. "Yes, ma cherie, you can.  But the animagus capabilities that we Veela have are slightly different than normal animagi.  For one thing, we Veela only ever turn into birds.  But, as birds, we are quite a bit more capable than normal bird animagi."

Fleur looked at her mother in anticipation.  "Well, what's the difference?"

Giselle smiled, and stretched.  "Hmmm, I think it's time for a little break.  Aren't you tired of talking all afternoon?"

Fleur gasped.  "Mama!  You can't be serious!  No!  You have to tell me about the birds, you can't just say something like that and refuse to explain it!  Please!"

Giselle smirked, and Fleur realized that she had, once again, been successfully teased.  Sometimes she wished her mother didn't have such a sneaky sense of humor.

"You're sure you don't want a break?"  At Fleur's disgusted look, she chuckled, and continued her explanation.  "We can use magic."

Fleur sat there and waited.  And waited.  And waited.  Until. . . "So what!" She practically screamed, "We can use magic already!"

"Don't yell at me, young lady," Giselle said, in her best You-will-learn-how-to-be-a-proper -lady-even-if-it-kills-you tone.  Fleur immediately shrank back into herself.

"I'm sorry, Mama, but. . . I don't understand.  Why is it so cool that we can use magic?"  By the end of this sentence, she had regained her equilibrium and was back to her normal level of self-assuredness.

"The wonderful part is, my dear, that we can use magic while we are transformed into birds.  Normal animagi can't do that--while they are transformed into their animal selves, their magic is bound up into keeping their animal shapes.  Your father says that it takes effort at first, to make his magic continually exert itself to keep the form, but after awhile it becomes second nature.  Regardless, while it's busy doing that, the wizard or witch can't do any other spells.  We Veela, on the other hand, are not using our magic to maintain our form, as it is a natural part of us.  So, we can cast any spells we want to."

Fleur's face had gone from interested curiosity to wondrous appreciation.  "Wow, can I try right now?  I want to be a spell-casting bird!"

Giselle smiled in appreciation of her daughter's enthusiasm, but said, "No, Fleur.  It takes training and practice to be able to turn into a bird, and even more after that to be able to cast spells, since you have to learn to cast them without using normal language.  If you practice hard, though, you'll probably be able to manage your bird form within a year or two."

Slightly disheartened, but eager nonetheless, Fleur asked, "What do I have to do to start learning?"

"Get angry."

"What?"

"Get angry.  For some reason, perhaps because the Vell used their bird forms as weapons, it’s easier to shift into your bird form when you’re upset.  Most Veela start out by learning the steps from their parents or some other Veela, then accidentally turning into a bird because they're furious at something or someone.  There have even been some studies that show that learning how to do it without ever getting angry, while possible, takes significantly longer.  Accessing your bird form through anger, although somewhat embarrassing, depending on the audience, means that you get a rather intimate, first-hand knowledge of what the change feels like.  Having that knowledge means that you have a goal to shoot for, or a standard to reach."

"Mama," Fleur said, uncharacteristically hesitant.  "Will you show me how you look as a bird?  Please?"

Giselle thought for a minute, but couldn't think of any good reason not to.  "Okay, sweetheart, back up a bit."

With that, Fleur scooted back on the sofa, and Giselle took on a look of intense contemplation.  After some seconds of effort, Fleur could see a slight change in the shape of her mother's nose.  She thought it looked more like a beak than a nose now.  But then, unfortunately, she blinked.  When she opened her eyes, instead of her mother, there was a magnificent falcon.  Its feathers were a deep, rich brown, interspersed with a grey that made them look rather distinguished.  The sharp beak that she had first focused on looked like it was ready to eat some small, or even medium-sized, animal, and Fleur was a little frightened.  But looking into the eyes, she could see her mother's love radiating out from the magnificent animal, and her fear left her.

She moved towards her mother, and tentatively put out a hand.  Giselle ducked her head and put it under Fleur's hand, so that her daughter could feel the feathers, and become accustomed to the form she had taken.

After a few minutes of Fleur examining and stroking the beautiful creature, Giselle moved back from Fleur and turned back into her human form.

"That was brilliant, Mama!  Thank you--you're so beautiful!"  She thought for a bit; "Mama, has Papa seen you like this?"

Giselle, the calm, cool, collected, urbane, and well-bred woman that she was, blushed mightily.  "Um, yes, he has, and he thinks it's beautiful.  Now, let's talk about some of the other pluses to being a Veela, shall we?"

Fleur was mightily tempted to ask her mother about the blush, but was sidetracked by the prospect of new information.  "Okay, what else can we do?"

Giselle, grateful that she hadn't had to explain about Pierre being an eagle animagus, and the rather enjoyable activities that they were able to engage in while in their bird forms, not all of which involved flying, continued.

"You already know about the last one I want to tell you about.  Can you think of what it is?"

Fleur made a mental note to ask about any abilities that her mother didn't want to tell her about, then tried to think about anything she could have already heard about that they hadn't discussed. 

Giselle took advantage of her daughter's preoccupation to call for Peti.  The little house-elf arrived with a subdued 'pop'.  "Yes, Ma'am?"

"Peti, I think we'll only be another 15 minutes or so.  Has my husband come back home yet?"

"Oh yes, Ma'am, they has been home for awhile now.  They is being upstairs reading stories.  Miss Gabby was wanting to hear of Goldilocks and the Three Gryphons again."

"Very well, Peti, will we be ready for dinner soon?"

"Yes, Ma'am, whenever you and Miss Fleur are done we will be having dinner."  The little house elf seemed very happy that she'd planned the timing correctly, but, to be fair, soup has quite a long range of time in which it can be referred to as ready.

"Thank you, Peti--please let my husband know that we'll be ready for dinner in about 15 minutes."

"Of course, Ma'am.  Is there being anything else?"

"No, Peti, thank you for your help."

The little house-elf disappeared with another 'pop', and Giselle turned her attention back to her rather puzzled little girl.

"Have you figured out the other Veela trait?"  Giselle asked.

"No, Mama, I can't!" she just about whined.

"Let me give you a hint--it's something you already do, but Papa doesn't."

Fleur thought for a bit more, then blushed--no, it couldn't be that--all girls did that.  She forced herself to think of anything other than The Most Embarrassing Talk Ever that she'd had with her mother the previous year, but still couldn't figure out what other trait she was missing.

She looked up at her mother.  "I can’t think of anything, Mama, what is it?"

"Fireballs."

"What!?" Fleur gasped, incredulous.  "But, but, I've been doing that forever, how can that be a Veela trait?"

"Some Veela traits manifest early, my dear.  Fire-casting is one of them that usually comes during childhood, as well as the acute sense of smell.  Now, we've already talked quite a bit about your fireballs, and trained you in their use, but there’s something else you need to know.  Have you thrown any fire lately?”

Fleur shook her head.

“Okay.  When a Veela comes of age, the fireballs that she is able to throw change too.  What’s the most you can burn with your fire now?”

“I can usually set wood on fire, Mama, but that’s about it.”

“That shows you have a fair amount of power.  But you’ll start noticing that your fire is getting hotter and hotter.  This is why we have the Fire Room.  The fireballs that I cast, when I’m most angry, are hot enough to vaporize steel.”  Fleur gasped.  “Of course, that doesn’t happen very often, as I don’t have that much to be upset about, but, as you can see, it can be very dangerous to cast fire.  I will set you some exercises to help you control the temperature of the fire that you throw, but between now and when school starts, you’ll need to spend at least 15 minutes each day practicing in the Fire Room.  Will you do that for me?”

Fleur, awed at the amount of power that came with being a Veela, just nodded, open-mouthed.

Giselle smiled, remembering back to her training, and the one time she had let her temper get the best of her.  I wonder, she thought, if they ever re-grew that grove of trees?

Finally, Fleur shook her head and looked back at her mother.  “Is that everything?  Are there any other things I should know about being a Veela?"  She asked this, remembering her mother’s slight evasion, and  hoping to persuade her mother that she was old enough to hear everything.

Giselle thought for a long moment.  She didn't really want to get into the subject of a Veela's enhanced amorous nature.  The fact was that Veela were very sensuous creatures, and the physical part of a Mated, or even a Chosen, relationship, was phenomenally important for the physical and mental well-being of the Veela.  She had already given Fleur the Talk about pregnancy, and being a woman, so she didn't fear an unplanned grandchild, but did her little girl really need to hear more details about sex right now?  No, she decided, she'd wait until next summer.  Or maybe she'd just pay attention to Fleur's letters, and when she started seeing signs of an incipient relationship she'd swoop down and give her the lecture.  But then, that was rather risky, wasn't it?  What if she found her Mate this year?  Reluctantly, she prepared herself to divulge the information that she knew Fleur needed.

"Okay, Fleur, there is one other thing."  Fleur wiggled around in her seat, so as to be as comfortable as possible.  She looked up at her mother, and--was that a blush?

"Now, Fleur, when you find yourself a boy that you want to be with, whether it's your Mate, or you've Chosen someone, your body will start to send out certain signals.  One of the Vell inheritances is a very physically demonstrative nature."

Fleur's face mirrored quite a bit of confusion.  "Umm, what are you talking about?"

Giselle sighed, then straightened up.  "Okay, time to be blunt.  When you've found someone, and either Chosen them, or realized they're your Mate, you're going to want to be with them all the time.  You'll want to touch them, a lot, and kiss them, and, well, you're going to want to sleep with them.  Our biology makes us very sensual creatures, and that is both a blessing and a curse."

Through a truly impressive blush, Fleur managed to ask, "How can it be both?  It seems like a great thing, to me!"  Realizing just what she’d said, she backpedaled; “I mean, it seems like it might be good, even though I’ve never really thought about it, and it’s certainly not something I’d want to do anytime soon, even if Antoinette. . .” She trailed off, remembering that the first rule of holes was that if you found yourself in one, you should stop digging.

Ignoring the comment about Antoinette, Giselle answered, "Well, consider this--you're sitting in your Potions class, and your Mate sits down next to you.  You're going to have to spend the next two hours, in close proximity to the love of your life, but unable to act on any of those desires, or else you'll get a reprimand from your teacher, if not a detention.  Now, multiply that by a thousand for all the other classes, and the times you'll see him in the halls, or at dinner.  And let's add in the fact that maybe you're only twelve, and it is highly inappropriate to act on those feelings the way you'll want to.  Can you see how much of a strain this could be?"

Fleur's face had drained of all color.  "That's horrible, Mama!  Oh, I don't want to go to school--what if I find my Mate the first day?"

Giselle reached out and picked her daughter up, showing surprising strength in the feat.  Placing the girl in her lap, she slowly started stroking her hair.  "It's not so bad, ma cherie.  The benefits are incredible too.  Once you're able to be with your Mate, or your Chosen, being together, both physically and otherwise, will be worth all the stress that you've gone through.  Your father and I have the most loving, wonderful relationship I've ever seen in a married couple, and our bedroom life is--"

"Ewww, Mother!  I don't want to hear about you and Dad in that way!  Yuck!"

Giselle chuckled and pulled her daughter close again.  "Okay, I won't tell you any more about that.  But, let me explain something else.  If you do, indeed, find a Mate, then by ancient law, you can marry him as soon as you want, no matter your age.  The Magical Community of France recognized, long ago, that keeping a Veela away from her Mate was cruel, unusual, and unneeded punishment.  So, there are some mitigating rules that have been made to help you.  And, once you're married to your Mate, you can satisfy those desires appropriately, and it will make being with him in public much easier.  If you have, instead, a Chosen, then you have a little more time.  You won't find a Chosen until later in your adolescence, so you can grow into a relationship with him, and make the necessary preparations for marriage."

Fleur sat huddled on her mother's lap for a while longer, digesting the great amount of information that had been given her over the course of the day.  Eventually she shifted, and moved away from the warm embrace of her mother.  "Mum, is there anything else you need to tell me?" 

Giselle could tell from the apprehensive look on her face that Fleur was hoping the answer was "no".  She tightened her arms a bit more, gave her daughter a brief hug, and let her go.  "No, sweetheart, that's all.  Are you going to be okay?"

Fleur nodded quickly, then thought, then nodded again.  "Yes, Mama, but, I might have questions. . ."  She trailed off, hope in the tone of her voice.

"Of course, my child, any question you might have about growing up Veela, or human, for that matter, you can owl me, or even ask the Headmistress for permission to Floo-call me.  She knows about Veela, having had a few come through the school already."

Fleur hugged her mother close once more, and stood up.  "Well, that was quite, um, enlightening.  I'm not really sure what to think."  Then a thought seemed to strike her as funny.

Giselle raised an eyebrow.  "Okay, what's that evil grin for?"

"Oh, I'm just looking forward to the time when you have to have this talk with Harry."

oooooooooo

"Mama, are you sure I'm going to be able to go to Beauxbatons?"

Giselle sighed in resignation.  "Oh, my flower, why are you so worried?  We've talked about this probably a dozen times now.  You are a powerful witch, and France is not such a backward country that anyone would try to keep a part-Veela from getting an education.  Why wouldn't you be accepted there?"

Fleur climbed up on her mother's lap, which was starting to become a rather precarious proposition, as Fleur had all the signs of inheriting her Grand-mere’s stature.  "But, Antoinette told me that Gustav had told her that Jean-Paul had told him that they were going to make a rule that only certain people can attend, and maybe I won't be one of them."

Not for the first time did her mother wish that Fleur had been able to make friends with someone a bit more . . . intelligent was probably going a bit too far, but perhaps wise would suffice.  "Fleur, listen closely to me.  You know where your father works, right?"  Fleur nodded.  "Don't you think he would have heard about anything like that?"  Fleur nodded once again.  “Okay, then I don’t want to hear another word about it.  You will go to Beauxbatons, and you’ll have a wonderful time.”

Fleur nodded once, then hugged her mother, and ran back to her room to daydream again about finding a Mate.

Thankfully, the Beaxubatons acceptance letter arrived the next day, and Fleur changed from bothering her parents about attending school, to bothering her parents about going to La Rue Magique to purchase her supplies.

oooooooooo

Harry was not a happy boy.  It had been two whole weeks since Fleur had gone off to Beauxbatons, and he missed her dreadfully.  Of course, he wouldn't ever say that to anyone, but it was obvious to Giselle and, after a hint from his wife, Pierre.   Thinking to perhaps stun two birds with one spell, Pierre took the next day off work.

Harry, surprised and very pleased to see his father sitting at the breakfast table when he went down that morning, threw his arms around Pierre and questioned, very loudly, and unfortunately right in his ear, why he was home.

“Well, Harry, I was thinking.  With Fleur gone,” Pierre just barely caught the sad look that raced across Harry’s face at this reminder, but ignored it and continued, “I thought maybe it was time I spent a day with my favorite son.  Would that be okay with you?”

Harry’s answer was a huge grin, and an even more enthusiastic hug. “All right!  What are we going to do, Papa?”

"Want to learn how to fly?" was all Pierre had time to say before Harry had grabbed his hand and started pulling him, with surprising force, towards the clubhouse in back of Chateau Delacour, where the brooms were kept.

“You mean I’m old enough?  I thought you said I had to wait until I was ten?  Why did you change your mind?  This is so awesome!  I just know I’ll be the best flier ever, won’t I, Papa?  I bet I’ll be able to fly rings around Fleur when she comes home for Christmas!”

Pierre just laughed, and congratulated himself on coming up with a wonderful way to pull Harry out of his sadness.

The flying lesson went as well as Pierre had hoped.  He, himself, wasn’t the best flier, preferring to Apparate, if at all possible, but he considered himself perfectly adequate to teach an 8-year old.  To his chagrin, Harry surpassed his father’s abilities after about half an hour.  And, after a day of watching Harry do things that Pierre had never thought of, he decided that he’d need to hire a flying instructor as soon as possible, as Harry had a natural talent that boded quite well for a future in Quidditch.

Giselle and Pierre were very grateful for Harry’s new-found skill on a broom–it certainly served to provide him something to focus on besides the absence of his beloved big sister.  Eventually, the thrill of flying lessened to where Harry remembered that he was supposed to be missing Fleur (it was late November when this happened), and he brought the subject up to his mother.

“Mama, how is Fleur?  It seems like forever since I’ve seen her.  Does she know I can fly?  Can we go visit her?”  All these question tumbled out of Harry’s mouth in much the same manner that he, himself, lived his life–all his twigs aligned for speed, as they referred to it.

Giselle chuckled, summoned a stack of letters from her desk, and handed them to Harry.  “Yes, Harry dear, we’ve told her you can fly.  She’s doing well, and she writes quite often.  She’s planning on coming home for Christmas, and we thought maybe you two could go flying together.”

Harry’s face brightened at that prospect.  “Yeah!  Maybe we can race.  Do you think I’ll win?  I think I will–she can’t be as fast as me, can she?”

Giselle smiled at her son and answered, “Well, I don’t know–she’s taking flying at Beauxbatons, and she says she’s learning a lot, so maybe she’ll be faster than you. . .”

The look of disgust on Harry’s face tested Giselle’s ability to keep a straight face, but she was inwardly very glad that he had been able to find something he loved so much.  “Harry, here are the letters she’s written–why don’t you sit down and read some of them, and maybe you can write back to her later.”

“Okay!” and off he ran, to his favorite stuffed chair in the library–the one with the stag design worked into the leather.

Dear Mama, Papa, Harry, and Gabby,

I’m sorry I haven’t written before now–the first week here at school has been exhausting.  Did you know that there are seven different dormitories?  Well, I guess there are really fourteen, or maybe just one.   Well, let me explain.  All the students in my year share a common room, and there are stairs leading off from it to the dormitories.  The girls’ stairs go down and the boys stairs go up, and we’re not supposed to go into the boys’ dorms.  I don’t know why though, it’s not like I want to see where those pigs sleep.  Oh, Harry, I don’t mean that all boys are pigs, but most of the boys here certainly seem to be such.

I asked one of the older students why the girls had to go down to their rooms, but all she said was something about not being able to wear knee-length skirts otherwise.  Mama, what did she mean by that?  If it's so hard to walk up the stairs while wearing knee-length skirts, why do we even have stairs?

Anyway, like I said, there’s the first-year common room, but there’s a door in the wall that leads to the second-year common-room, which is set up the same way.  I think it’s really neat, because if I get stuck on an assignment, and no-one in my year knows the answer, I can go next door and talk to someone who’s already taken the class!  The common room also has some littler rooms opening off of it, so if it's too noisy you can go study somewhere else.

There are prefects who are kind of like students in charge for each year.  Well, except for us first years.  I guess we don’t know enough to be in charge.  But next year they’ll pick a couple of girls in my year, and a couple of boys (yuck) to be prefects.  Maybe I’ll put my name down. . .  Anyway, we have to obey the prefects if they tell us to do something, or, more frequently, to stop doing something.  But if there’s one who’s being stupid, we can just go talk to an older one and get him in trouble.  So we don’t have to put up with idiots who have been made prefect.

The classes are simply amazing.  I think my favorite is Transfiguration, especially the idea of turning a person into an animal (right Mama?).  I seem to do pretty well in it, although Mme. Ginger (which I think is a rather strange name) has set me a three-foot essay on why it’s easier to transform a match into a toothpick than into a needle.  I hate homework!

Potions is okay, although it’s strange to think that our potions can come from such foul-smelling ingredients and still taste so pleasant.  Astronomy is all right, but I don’t like getting up in the middle of the night to look at the stars.  Can you buy me an orrery?  Please?

Magical Law and Custom is rather easy–it’s all simple stuff, really.  Papa, you’ve already taught me most of what is on the syllabus.  But that’s okay, it’s nice to have an easier class.  And, it’s interesting to see what the teacher (M. Pend Oreille) says about things, and compare them to what you’ve told me.

Defense is incredible–we might get to learn how to duel next term!  So far we’ve learned a shield charm, and a disarming charm, and it’s only been a week!  Of course, I can’t really do the disarming charm well, yet, but I’m practicing any chance I can get.  But Marci, one of my room-mates–Oh, I didn’t tell you about that.  See, there are about 30 girls in my year, and about 27 boys, and that would make for a rather noisy bedroom, so they have us paired up into room-mates.  Marci is mine, and she’s really sweet.  But, Marci isn’t her real name, she just doesn’t like her real name, so she wants to be called Marci.  I don’t mind–I don’t think I could keep a straight face calling someone Buttercup.  Anyway, Marci isn’t so happy about my practicing the disarming charm, probably ‘cause I kept disarming her from her toothbrush last night.  Anyway, we are also going to start learning how to move and dodge bad spells, so it’s a good thing I’m not fat!

And in Magical Creatures and Spirits we get to learn about dealing with evil creatures, like will o’ wisps and gollums, and how to keep poltergeists from bothering us.  But we also get to meet a unicorn!  Some of the older girls were teasing us about unicorns, saying that we better
hope we can meet unicorns, or we’d get in trouble, but I’m not sure I understand why–hopefully we’ll find out soon.

Anyway, next week we get to take an introductory Flying class, just to make sure we know how to ride a broom and not fall off.  I already know that, so maybe they’ll let us learn something more fun.

Harry, I think you’re going to love it here–I can’t wait for you to come so we can be at school together!  Of course, maybe I’ll be a prefect and have to obey the rules–but that also means I’ll know how to get around the rules, too!  Oh, Mama, just kidding!!

Anyway, I love you all, give Gabby a kiss for me.  I’ll write more later!

Avec amour,

Fleur


Harry sniffed back tears.  The letter sounded so much like his big sister–it made him miss her even more, but it turned his sad missing into a happy missing.  Yes, he missed her, but he was so happy that she was doing so well.

The rest of her letters felt the same and contained the same indomitable spirit of the older girl.  She detailed more of her classes, the fun activities they had, visiting the local village and flying.  One thing Harry didn’t understand was about the boys that seemed to bother Fleur:

Mama, I think I can definitely tell you some things about me, if you know what I mean.  First, I don’t think I have a Mate–there are a LOT of interesting boys here (mostly NOT in my year) that I’d like to get to know better.  (This part of the letter gave Pierre quite a fright until Giselle explained what she probably meant and calmed his fears.)  And second–the Allure is definitely working; I have to work really hard to keep it calm enough so that I can get to class without all these besotted idiots following me around.  Once I forgot, and three boys got into a fistfight over who got to clear my dishes from breakfast!  And we have castle-elves to do that!

Harry asked his mother to explain this to him, but she told him that it was something that she and Fleur had talked about before she left for school.  She promised that she’d explain it all to Harry when it was time for him to go to school too.

oooooooooo

Christmas of Fleur’s first year at Beauxbatons was a joyous occasion.  As promised, Harry and Fleur got to fly together, although Harry was relegated to second place, probably due to the fact that Fleur had a new broom, the Aguila 9000, which clearly outstripped his Alante 702.  Fleur was gracious in her win, and only made Harry clean her room for two days, a very generous lessening of the agreed-upon bet length of two weeks.  Harry was tempted to argue with this, not wanting charity from his big sister.  But, realizing that part of her win was due to the different brooms, he decided to accept Fleur’s offer.

Harry was rather astounded on Christmas day, when, under the tree, was his very own Aguila.  Granted, it was the 6000 model, which was a smaller broom, rather more suited to an 8-year old, but fast enough that Fleur repeatedly declined his offer for a re-match, preferring to enjoy her superiority as long as possible, knowing that the next time they raced, she’d probably have to turn on her Veela Allure full power to give her even a slim chance at winning.  Of course, she figured that probably wouldn’t work either, as he was her de facto brother, and the Allure tended to not work in familial relationships, which was, as she thought about it, probably a blessing.

oooooooooo

And so, the next couple of years passed.  Fleur did indeed become prefect her second year, and performed admirably.  She didn’t feel it a crime to use limited, directed amounts of Allure to ensure proper behavior amongst the boys, and endeavored to never entrap the various and sundry boys with whom her circle of girlfriends fell in and out of love.  They, for their part, understood, and never took it personally when one of their boys became briefly enamored with her, knowing that, while boys come and go, girlfriends last forever.  She made the Quidditch team her third year, as a Beater, of all things, and bequeathed her Aguila to Harry, in favor of a Steadfast 200, the preferred Beater’s broom, imported from the US.

Harry, for his part, grew like a weed, soon rivaling Giselle in height, and making him rather grateful for the larger Aguila.  The letters that Fleur sent home sporadically (although never more than three weeks between) whetted his appetite more and more for being able to attend the glorious school that was Beauxbatons.  Occasionally he thought about his birth parents, wondering about them, but he couldn’t see how his life could be any better than it was now, so these ponderings, while wistful, never caused him undue pain.

And then came the year that Harry was finally old enough to attend Beauxbatons.
 
oooooooooo

A/N: First, I must apologize--I hadn't realized it had been five months since chapter 5.  In that time I wrote and posted two other stories, as well as a bunch of 100-word drabbles, we all got the flu, and I had to travel on business.  These are not excuses, just reasons.  Hopefully I won't make you wait so long for the next chapter.

Second, as always, thanks to my betas, rosiekatriona and sassyfrasskerr.  They truly are remarkable, aside from being very beautiful, and find things that I apparently can't.

And third, bananas with dulce de leche are a rare treat.  I highly recommend them.  Guaraná is a soft drink very popular in Brazil, Uruguay, and the surrounding region.  It tastes something like a cross between cream soda and ginger ale.  It also is one of the best sodas for inducing belching that I've ever found.

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