Chapter 4: Confrontation

The imposing grandeur of Gringotts’ upper floors was already a familiar sight to Harry Potter. Marble halls gleamed under enchanted light, goblins bustling efficiently through the meticulously organized chaos of wizarding wealth. Yet, what lay beneath those polished corridors was an entirely different realm.

Harry stood before an unassuming stone wall deep within the bank, his eyes fixed on the goblin beside him. The goblin, a wizened curse-breaker named Draznok, was humming a low, lilting chant. The words did not seem to form a language so much as they conjured pure intent, weaving through the air in a way that prickled at Harry’s skin.

The chant grew louder, reverberating against the stone until the very wall seemed to shudder. Faint lines of golden light appeared, tracing out a vast network of runes that crisscrossed the wall’s surface. The glowing runes pulsated in a rhythmic cadence, and, with a final guttural note from Draznok, the entire wall dissolved into nothingness, revealing a darkened corridor beyond.

“You may proceed,” Draznok said curtly, stepping aside.

Harry inclined his head in thanks, stepping into the passage. The temperature dropped noticeably as he entered, the faint glow of the sconces doing little to warm the chill air. The walls were smooth and gray, unadorned save for the occasional flicker of ancient wards that still hummed faintly with dormant power.

The corridor stretched for about fifteen meters, its end marked by an open doorway. Beyond the door, a dim light beckoned, promising knowledge, and perhaps more, that he sought.

As he reached the threshold, Harry’s steps slowed. She leaned over the table, her jeans hugging her perfectly round ass, the curve so prominent it left little to the imagination. Her fitted shirt, slightly loose at the waist but snug enough to hint at her figure, rode up just enough to reveal a sliver of smooth, pale skin at her lower back.

For a moment, Harry just stood there, his thoughts drifting. He had not been the same since that hike. That blowjob, Merlin, just thinking about it made his breath hitch. Fleur had been eager, hungry, and utterly devoted to his pleasure. The memory of her lips wrapped around him, the way her tongue worked him over, the sound of her moans, it all played on a loop in his head.

And since then, things had shifted between them. Fleur teased him constantly, her playful confidence impossible to ignore. She would bring him meals at odd hours, her lips curving into that knowing smile as she handed him a plate or cup of coffee. She would brush against him as if by accident, her hand lingering a second too long on his arm. Once, when he had asked if he could help her with something, her laughter had been soft and sweet, her answer a coy “Maybe later, ’Arry.”

It was not just her, though. He had started noticing things, her moods, her habits. The way she hummed softly when she was deep in thought, how she tapped her quill against the parchment when she was stuck on a problem. He would catch himself checking in on her, offering to carry something for her, asking if she needed anything.

It was starting to feel real, the way they moved around each other. They were not just colleagues, and they were not just, whatever they were after that hike. They were something more, even if neither of them had said it out loud.

His gaze wandered back to her ass, the way it swayed subtly as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. He did not notice the small smile playing on her lips or the way she glanced over her shoulder.

Fleur saw him. She saw where his eyes lingered and decided to play her part. Slowly, she shifted her hips, rolling them left, then right, her movements almost hypnotic.

Harry snapped out of his reverie as he realized she was staring back at him. Their eyes met, and his stomach flipped. Fleur did not say a word. Instead, she stuck her tongue out at him, playful, teasing, before straightening up with deliberate slowness.

When she turned around fully, Harry’s breath caught. Her shirt was unbuttoned at the top, two buttons undone, giving him a tantalizing view of her cleavage. The swell of her breasts was impossible to miss, and Harry’s eyes flicked down briefly before he caught himself.

Fleur’s soft, knowing laugh sent a spark through him. She walked toward him, her hips swaying with confidence.

She leaned in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Her lips were warm, and the faint scent of her perfume made his pulse quicken. Her fingers trailed lightly down his chest, her nails just barely grazing the fabric of his shirt.

“You caught me staring,” Harry muttered, his words half an apology, half a challenge.

Fleur smiled wider, her blue eyes twinkling with mischief. “Of course,” she replied, her tone light, teasing. “But zat does not mean you ’ave to stop.”

Harry’s hand slid possessively over Fleur’s hips, his fingers pressing into the curve with deliberate intent. His gaze dropped shamelessly to her chest, her cleavage all but spilling out from the undone buttons of her blouse. The smooth swell of her breasts rose and fell with her breaths, and Harry did not bother hiding how much he appreciated the view.

Fleur’s lips curled into a self-satisfied smile, clearly relishing the attention. “Oh, you like zat, hmm?” she purred, tilting her head coyly. Her fingers grazed his forearm, a teasing caress that sent a shiver through him.

“You could say that,” Harry murmured.

Fleur chuckled, leaning in closer so her body brushed against his. “Zen I will ’ave to make sure you ’ave plenty to look at,” she said, her tone light and teasing. “I ’ardly ever dress like zis for work. Or at ’ome, for zat matter. But now, now I think about it. About what you might enjoy.” Her blue eyes sparkled as she ran her tongue over her bottom lip. “If you ’ave a favorite look, ’Arry, do let me know.”

Harry laughed, his grin spreading as he delivered a sharp, playful slap to her ass. The sound echoed in the room, and Fleur let out a small, delighted gasp, her cheeks tinged with the faintest pink.

“You look best completely naked,” Harry said, his voice firm and unapologetic, “with my cock in your throat.”

Fleur’s lips hovered near Harry’s ear, her breath hot and teasing. Her voice dropped, low and sultry, each word a deliberate caress. “Do you want me to get on my knees, ’Arry?” she purred, her tongue flicking briefly against his earlobe. “Right here? Suck you so good you forget your own name? Just say it, Command me.”

A rush of blood left Harry momentarily light-headed, his cock stiffening instantly at her words. His grip on her hips tightened, his jaw clenching as he wrestled with the temptation. Fleur’s lips ghosted over his neck, and for a moment, he swore he might give in.

But Harry forced himself to take a steadying breath. “Not here,” he said finally. He nodded toward the table. “There’s work to do.”

Fleur pouted dramatically, crossing her arms over her chest in mock indignation. “Work,” she repeated, drawing out the word with exaggerated disdain.

Harry smirked, watching as she held the expression for a few seconds before her facade cracked, and a small laugh bubbled from her lips. With a playful shake of her head, she moved to the table, brushing past him deliberately so her hip bumped against his.

“Fine,” she said with a sigh, her tone still laced with amusement. “But you owe me, ’Arry.”

---

“So,” she said, tapping the parchment in front of her with a quill, “we ’ave ze records of ze breaches. But ze question remains: why zese vaults? What connects zem?”

Harry adjusted his stance, trying to focus as his eyes drifted over the sprawl of documents Fleur had meticulously arranged. “Three vaults, all high security, but nothing obviously tying them together,” he murmured, scanning a column of ancient, angular script. “No shared owners, no recent activity, and no connection to the same families. But the runes…” He pointed to a series of sketches Fleur had made, their intricate patterns sharp and almost dizzying to look at. “These look deliberate. Almost like they’re searching for something specific.”

“Oui,” Fleur agreed, her expression serious now. She picked up one of the sketches, tilting it toward the faint light of the enchanted sconces. “Zis sequence here, it is not complete. Whoever created it, zey were trying to unlock a deeper layer of protection. But zey failed.”

Harry’s brow furrowed. “Failed how? If they broke in, shouldn’t the runes have worked?”

Fleur shook her head, her silvery hair catching the light. “Not necessarily. Zese types of wards, zey are not like ordinary locks. Zey require, harmony. If zey were trying to force zeir way through, zey may have triggered partial access but missed ze heart of ze vault.”

Harry’s mind raced. “So they’re not just breaking into vaults for valuables. They’re looking for something specific, and they don’t fully know what they’re doing.”

“Exactement,” Fleur said, her voice growing more animated. “Zis is why we must focus on ze runes. Zey will tell us what ze intruders are after.”

Harry leaned closer to the parchment. “What if the runes aren’t just unlocking something? What if they’re, mapping it? Like a spell designed to probe the defenses and understand them before making the real move?”

Fleur’s eyes widened. “Oui! A reconnaissance spell. Zis would explain why ze wards remain partially intact after ze breaches. Zey are preparing for a second attempt.”

“Then we’re on borrowed time. If they’re planning a second breach, they’ll have perfected their methods by now.”

Fleur bit her lip, her expression troubled. “Zen we must act before zey do. If zey succeed…”

Harry nodded grimly. “We need to figure out which vault they’ll target next, and we need to get there first.”

Fleur shuffled through a stack of ledgers, her fingers moving quickly over the brittle pages. “Ze goblins keep precise records,” she said, her voice firm. “If zere is a pattern to zese breaches, it will be ’ere.”

Harry picked up another ledger, his green eyes scanning the dense columns of script. The minutes stretched into an hour as the two of them poured over the records, their focus unbroken. Finally, Fleur let out a soft gasp.

“’Arry, look!” she said, sliding a ledger across the table toward him. “Ze previous breaches, zey all targeted vaults zat ’oused items of magical origin. Relics tied to old, forgotten spells.”

Harry’s eyes flicked to the page she indicated. “Magical relics, but not just any relics. These are all artifacts tied to protection magic.” He traced his finger down the list. “An amulet of warding, a goblin-crafted talisman, and, Merlin’s beard, a fragment of enchanted runestone.”

“Zis is not a coincidence,” Fleur said. “Ze intruders are building something. Something zat requires ze strongest protection magic.”

“And there’s one vault that fits their pattern better than any other.”

“Vault 713,” Fleur said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Harry leaned forward, his fingers pressing into the ledger as he reread the entry. Vault 713 was not just a vault, it was a legend. Its history stretched back to the earliest days of Gringotts, its contents rumored to hold secrets that even the goblins kept shrouded in mystery.

“This vault…” Harry began, his voice trailing off. “It’s older than most magical institutions. The goblins have been guarding it for centuries, maybe longer.”

Fleur nodded, her sapphire eyes dark with thought. “It is not ze kind of vault used for gold or jewels. It is, sacred. To ze goblins, it represents zeir most ancient pact with wizards.”

“What pact?”

Fleur hesitated, her fingers tracing the edge of the parchment in front of her. “Ze details are lost to time,” she said softly. “But ze goblins say zat when ze vault was sealed, it marked ze end of a great conflict. A truce between zeir kind and ours. Ze artifacts within, zey are said to be from ze age before Hogwarts, from a time when magic was raw and untamed.”

“If someone’s after the vault, they’re not just after power. They’re after history itself. Knowledge that could change everything we know about magic.”

“And perhaps destroy it,” Fleur added quietly. “Ze items in ze vault, they are dangerous, ’Arry. Zis is why ze goblins are so secretive. If even one of zem falls into ze wrong hands…”

Harry did not need her to finish. He could already imagine the consequences: magical anarchy, entire wards destroyed, families torn apart by forces no one understood. The war with Voldemort had shown him how fragile the wizarding world truly was.

Harry flipped back through the ledger, scanning the entries with renewed urgency. “Look here,” he said, pointing to a series of dates. “The breaches, they’ve all been in chronological order. Each vault targeted houses something tied to the same time period, almost like…”

“Like zey are following a trail,” Fleur finished, her brow furrowed. “Ze intruders are piecing something together.”

“Or narrowing their search,” Harry muttered. “If Vault 713 is their next target, they’re getting closer to whatever they’re after.”

“But ze vault is protected by wards zat no human has ever breached.”

Harry shook his head. “They’ve already proven they can bypass protections. The runes, they’re adapting them. If we wait, they’ll find a way.”

Fleur hesitated, then rose from her chair to retrieve another ledger, this one bound in cracked, dark leather. She set it down carefully and opened it to a page filled with faded sketches and dense goblin script.

“Zis is ze earliest record of ze vault,” she said, her voice almost reverent. “It mentions an object called ze Eye of Auriel. No one knows what it truly is, but ze legends say it can amplify magic, turning even a novice spellcaster into a force of nature.”

“An object like that, in the hands of someone who knows what they’re doing…”

“Zey could reshape ze world,” Fleur said gravely. “Or destroy it.”

She looked up at him, her expression serious. “If zese intruders are after ze Eye, we cannot let zem succeed.”

Harry stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the stone floor. “We need to talk to the goblins. They’re the only ones who can give us access.”

Fleur followed his lead, though her expression remained uncertain. “Ze goblins do not take kindly to interference. If we approach zem, we must be prepared for resistance.”

“Let them resist,” Harry said, “They’re not just protecting their treasures, they’re protecting all of us. If they can’t see that, we’ll make them understand.”

Fleur arched an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “And how do you plan to do zat, ’Arry? Goblins are not known for zeir, cooperative spirit.”

“By reminding them who saved their world when no one else could.”

For a moment, Fleur simply stared at him, her blue eyes unreadable. Then, she nodded. “Zen let us go. But be warned, ’Arry, ze goblins will not make zis easy.”

“They never do, but they’ll listen. They have to.”

As Harry and Fleur exited the archives, the cold air of Gringotts pressed in around them, the urgency of their findings spurring Harry into action. He stopped abruptly, turning to Fleur with the decisiveness of a seasoned leader.

“Fleur,” he said firmly, “compile everything we’ve gathered and send the rune diagrams to Hermione. Tell her we suspect these breaches are targeting artifacts linked to ancient protection magic. She’ll know what to do.”

Without hesitation, Fleur nodded and began organizing the parchment she carried. Harry raised his wand, summoning a silver stag that shimmered brightly in the dim hallway.

“To the Auror Department,” he commanded. “Deploy a perimeter team to Gringotts immediately. Possible active breach, prioritize containment.”

The stag galloped forward, disappearing into the ether, and Harry turned back to Fleur. “If we gain access to Vault 713, I’ll need you focused on decoding those wards. We can’t afford to miss anything.”

Fleur gave a curt nod, slipping the last scroll into her bag. “Understood.”

As they approached the towering iron doors, Harry took a steadying breath, his hand brushing his wand out of habit.

The iron doors groaned open, their heavy hinges echoing through the corridor as Harry and Fleur stepped into the chamber. It was a striking room, carved from black stone and lined with veins of gold that shimmered faintly under flickering torchlight. A long, imposing table stretched toward the center, where Ragnok, the chief overseer of Gringotts, sat. Around him, the other council goblins waited in sharp silence, their eyes fixed on the two intruders.

“Mr. Potter,” Ragnok began. “Interrupting a council session is not a privilege lightly given. Explain yourself.”

“We believe Vault 713 is the next target of the group responsible for the recent breaches,” Harry said, stepping forward without hesitation.

The room murmured, the goblins exchanging looks before Ragnok raised a hand. Silence fell immediately.

“Vault 713 has stood untouched for centuries. Its protections are impenetrable. What makes you think it’s at risk?”

“They aren’t targeting vaults randomly,” Harry replied. “Every breach has been aimed at artifacts tied to protection magic. Vault 713 fits the same profile.”

Fleur placed a ledger on the table and opened it with precision. “Zese methods are sophisticated. Zey adapt. Each breach has been a test, and each time, zey improve. If we wait, zeir magic will grow even stronger.”

“They’re targeting a vault protected by wards even goblins haven’t bypassed?” Ragnok’s eyes narrowed.

“They’ve already proven they can get past protections thought to be unbreakable. Vault 713 is next on their path,” Harry said.

The goblins shifted, murmurs growing louder. Ragnok leaned forward, his fingers pressing against the table. “Vault 713 is sacred to us. Its contents are older than your Ministry, older than most wizarding institutions. Even discussing them comes with risk.”

“I know,” Harry said, his voice steady. “But if they succeed, this won’t just be about Gringotts. The fallout will affect the entire wizarding world.”

The council chamber fell silent. The faint crackle of torches filled the pause before Ragnok finally spoke.

“You have never come to us for anything, Potter. Never asked for our help, never sought favor. That alone is enough for me to allow this.” He straightened, his eyes narrowing further. “But you will not go alone. Our security will accompany you, and if you disturb anything within that vault, the consequences will be yours to bear.”

“Understood.”

“Do not make me regret it.”

Ragnok gestured, and two goblin guards stepped forward. Without another word, Harry and Fleur turned to leave, the heavy tension of what lay ahead pressing down on them as they moved toward Vault 713.

---

The air around Vault 713 crackled with energy, the ancient wards glowing faintly as if in protest against the violent magic being thrown at them. Five cloaked figures stood before the gate, their wands weaving intricate patterns as they chanted in unison, their combined magic battering against the protective spells.

Harry stepped into the corridor and froze. His instincts screamed before his mind could catch up.

“Get down!” he roared, lunging toward Fleur just as the green flash of a Killing Curse streaked toward them. He threw his body against hers, the spell whizzing past where she had stood a second ago and exploding into the wall. Stone shards rained down, biting into his skin.

The goblin beside them was not as lucky. The spell hit him squarely in the chest, his body collapsing like a ragdoll.

“Draznok!” the remaining goblin snarled, his voice a guttural roar of fury as he charged forward with his axe raised high.

The attackers turned, their movements sharp and coordinated. Harry did not waste time. He pushed Fleur further back, his wand already slashing through the air as he barked, “Oppugno lupum!”

A shimmering silver wolf burst from his wand, its growl reverberating through the air as it lunged at the nearest wizard. The attacker barely managed to block it, his shield shimmering under the wolf’s snapping jaws, but it bought Harry the precious seconds he needed.

The attackers moved with ruthless efficiency, their spells precise and devastating. Harry darted to the side, avoiding a Blasting Curse that left a crater where he had stood. He fired back with a Banishing Charm that ripped chunks of stone from the floor and hurled them toward his enemies.

The second goblin roared and leapt into the fray, his axe cleaving through the air as he intercepted a curse meant for Harry. His blade struck one wizard’s arm, the sharp cry of pain lost in the chaos.

Harry was not slowing. He flicked his wand, transfiguring the flying rubble into a storm of jagged birds, their wings slicing through the air as they dove at the attackers. One wizard countered with a wave of fire, incinerating half the birds and forcing Harry to deflect the rest of the flames with a hurried Protego.

Pain flared in his side as a curse slipped past his defenses, slamming him into the wall. His ribs screamed in protest, but he rolled to his feet, firing a Disarming Charm that sent one enemy’s wand spinning into the air. Without hesitation, Harry summoned the weapon and turned it into a venomous snake that struck at the man’s throat.

The wizard screamed, tearing at the snake as another attacker took advantage of the distraction. A sickly yellow curse hit Harry’s leg, and he crumpled as his knee buckled. The pain was blinding, but he did not stop. With a roar, he cast an Animation Charm, turning the ground beneath the attackers into shifting, biting hands that clawed at their ankles, pulling them off balance.

The goblin fell then, his axe clattering to the ground as a curse struck him in the chest. Harry’s breath hitched, but there was no time to mourn. Another spell, a searing arc of blue lightning, crackled toward him. He dove, twisting mid-air as he hurled a Stunning Hex that caught one wizard in the shoulder, sending them sprawling.

Harry landed hard, his injured leg screaming in protest. He slammed his hand to the floor, transfiguring the scattered shards of stone into a massive, spiked barrier. The nearest attacker’s spell shattered the barrier, the force throwing Harry back, but he managed to turn the fragments into iron spikes mid-air. They slammed into the wizard’s shield, shattering it before the spikes tore into his chest. The man collapsed with a gurgling cry.

Fleur’s voice cut through the chaos, her wand snapping in rapid motions as she threw a barrage of Blasting Curses at the remaining wizards. Harry pushed himself up, ignoring the blood dripping down his arm and the crack he felt in his ribs. His eyes burned with fury.

He fired a curse that froze the air around one attacker’s wand, the sudden frost spreading up his arm until he dropped it with a cry. With another flick, Harry sent an iron chain slithering toward him, wrapping tightly around his legs and pulling him to the ground.

Two attackers remained. One of them unleashed a spell that sent shards of razor-thin glass hurtling toward Harry. He conjured a silver wall that absorbed most of them, but one shard caught his cheek, slicing deep. Blood trickled down his face as he advanced, his wand moving faster than thought.

The second-to-last attacker turned to flee, but Harry whipped his wand forward, and the corridor itself seemed to rise against him. The walls groaned and twisted, forming jagged stone spikes that blocked his retreat. With nowhere left to run, the man fired a desperate Killing Curse, but Harry sidestepped it and retaliated with a Blasting Curse that hit the man squarely, slamming him into the wall.

The last wizard snarled, his wand crackling with black, forbidden magic. Fleur screamed a warning, but Harry was already moving. He flicked his wand upward, and the air itself became a weapon, thick tendrils of smoke wrapped around the attacker’s arm, pulling it taut until his wand clattered to the floor.

Before the man could recover, Harry lunged forward and struck him with a Stunner so powerful it sent him crashing to the ground. He did not move again.

The silence was deafening. Four bodies lay motionless, their blood staining the ancient stones. The last wizard, bound and unconscious, twitched weakly under the glowing ropes that restrained him.

Harry staggered, his wand slipping from his bloodied hand. His leg gave out, and he collapsed to his knees. Pain radiated from every part of his body, his ribs felt shattered, his arm hung uselessly at his side, and blood dripped steadily from a gash on his forehead.

The sound of approaching footsteps echoed faintly in his ears, but it was distant, muted. Fleur’s voice called his name but his vision blurred. The world tilted, and then there was nothing.

---

Harry woke to the faint, antiseptic smell of St. Mungo’s and the warm glow of enchanted lights dancing across the ceiling. Every muscle in his body ached, but it was the dull throb in his leg and the tight bandages wrapped around his ribs that told him he had not imagined the fight. He shifted slightly, wincing as pain shot through his side.

“You’re awake,” Fleur’s soft voice cut through the haze. He turned his head to see her sitting beside the bed, her silvery hair catching the light like moonbeams. A tray of food sat on the table next to her, untouched.

“How long have I been out?” Harry’s voice was hoarse, the words scraping against his dry throat.

“Two days,” Fleur said, her tone quiet but steady. “Zey said you were lucky to survive. Your leg, it was fractured in two places, and your ribs…”

“I’ve had worse,” Harry interrupted, forcing a small smile. “Though I can’t say it’s ever been this bloody exhausting.”

Fleur’s lips pressed into a thin line. She leaned forward, brushing a stray strand of hair from his forehead. “Do not joke about zat. You could have died.”

The door creaked open then, and Hermione and Ron stepped inside. Hermione’s expression was a mix of relief and concern, but Ron’s face lit up.

“Blimey, mate! You look like hell,” Ron said, striding over to the bed.

“Nice to see you too,” Harry replied, chuckling weakly. “I’m still in one piece, more or less.”

Hermione frowned at him. “You really need to stop putting yourself in situations like this. It’s not sustainable.”

Her eyes darted to Fleur then, her brows lifting slightly in surprise. “Fleur. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Fleur’s expression was unreadable, but she inclined her head politely. “’Arry saved my life. I am ’ere to ensure he is cared for properly.”

Ron’s eyes flicked between them, confusion knitting his brow. “Not that I don’t appreciate you being here, Fleur, but, where’s Ginny?”

The room grew heavy with silence. Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Ginny and I aren’t together anymore,” he said simply. “We’re getting a divorce.”

“What?” Ron’s voice rose, his face a mix of shock and disbelief. “Since when?”

“Since I stopped pretending everything was fine,” Harry said bluntly. “It’s been weeks, Ron. Honestly, it’s been over for a lot longer than that. We haven’t spoken in, what, a month?”

Ron opened his mouth, then closed it again, clearly struggling to process the revelation. Hermione placed a hand on his arm, her gaze flicking back to Harry.

“I didn’t know it was so serious,” she said quietly. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

Harry shrugged, the movement making him wince. “I didn’t see the point. It’s not exactly happy news.”

The silence stretched until Fleur broke it, her voice calm but resolute. “I, too, am leaving my marriage. I plan to divorce Bill.”

Ron’s head snapped toward her, his jaw dropping. “What? Bill? You can’t be serious, what happened?”

Fleur did not answer immediately, her blue eyes steady as she looked at Ron. “It has been coming for some time. I do not wish to speak of ze details now.”

Hermione glanced between them, her brow furrowed. She squeezed Ron’s arm lightly. “We should give them some space.”

“Space?” Ron spluttered, but Hermione shot him a look, and he let her lead him toward the door. “Fine. But this isn’t over, Harry.”

When the door closed behind them, the room felt quieter. Fleur turned back to Harry, her expression softening.

“You didn’t have to tell them,” she said gently.

“It was time,” Harry replied. “They were going to find out sooner or later.”

Fleur leaned closer, her hand brushing lightly against Harry’s arm.

“I am glad you said it. Zeir reaction, it will pass. Ron, especially. He needs time, but he will understand.”

Harry exhaled, sinking deeper into the hospital bed. “I just hate that it feels like everything is falling apart. I didn’t want it to come to this with Ginny, or Ron, or, anyone.”

Fleur’s lips curved into a faint smile, though there was something wistful in her eyes. “Sometimes, ’Arry, things must fall apart before zey can come together.”

He let that sit for a moment, his mind heavy with thoughts he could not quite articulate. Fleur picked up the tray of food beside her, setting it gently on the edge of the bed.

“You need to eat,” she said softly. “Ze healers said you must regain your strength.”

Harry gave her a half-hearted smirk. “Do you always listen so carefully to what people tell you?”

“Non,” Fleur replied, her voice laced with quiet amusement. “Only when I care deeply for ze person.”

The words hung in the air, their weight impossible to ignore. Harry picked up the fork, stabbing at the food more to distract himself than anything else.

As he ate, Fleur adjusted his blanket, her fingers lingering on the edge as she fussed over him. It was when she reached for the glass of water that Harry caught her hand, his touch firm but gentle.

“You’ve been here for two days,” he said. “When was the last time you slept?”

Fleur tilted her head slightly, as if considering the question. “Does it matter?”

“Yes, it matters,” Harry said. “You can’t take care of me if you’re running on empty yourself.”

“I will be fine,” Fleur said. “You are ze one who needs rest.”

Harry sighed, realizing she would not relent. “You’re impossible.”

“Oui,” she replied with a small smile, her fingers brushing his cheek before she pulled back. “And yet you are still ’ere with me.”

Before Harry could respond, the door opened, and the nurse from earlier bustled in. She glanced at the half-empty plate on the tray and nodded approvingly.

“Good to see you eating,” she said briskly. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore,” Harry admitted. “But ready to leave. When can I go?”

The nurse raised an eyebrow, checking the glowing runes on his chart. “You’re stable enough to be discharged. Take a pain-relief potion, keep your movements slow for the next couple of days, and you’ll be fine. But don’t push yourself too hard.”

“Perfect,” Harry said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He winced as pain flared in his ribs, but he did not stop. “I’m getting out of here.”

Fleur was beside him in an instant, steadying him as he stood. “Careful,” she said. “You are still healing.”

“I’m fine,” Harry muttered, though he allowed her to slip his jacket onto his shoulders. Once he was dressed, Fleur wrapped her arm around his waist, supporting him as they Apparated out of the hospital.

The familiar warmth of Harry’s house was a welcome relief from the cold sterility of St. Mungo’s. Fleur guided him to the sofa, insisting he sit while she moved toward the kitchen.

“You need rest,” she called out from the other room. “I will make you something light to eat.”

Harry leaned back, exhaustion settling over him like a heavy blanket. He could hear the sounds of pots and pans clattering, the faint hum of Fleur’s voice as she worked. Despite everything, he felt a strange sense of calm, something he had not felt in weeks.

It was short-lived.

The front door opened with a sharp creak, and Ginny stepped inside, her Quidditch robes still dusted from practice. She froze when she saw Fleur moving around the kitchen.

“What the hell is this?” Ginny demanded, her voice cutting through the quiet like a knife. “Why is she here?”

Fleur turned slowly.

“Ginny,” Harry said evenly, “what are you doing here?”

“I live here,” she shot back. “Or did you forget?”

“No, I didn’t forget,” Harry said, his voice growing colder. “But we agreed you’d move out. You’ve had two weeks.”

Ginny’s face flushed, anger flickering in her eyes. “So that’s it? You replace me with her?”

“This isn’t about Fleur,” Harry said. “This is about us. You knew this was coming.”

“And you decided she’d just move in? While I’m still trying to sort through this mess?”

Fleur stepped forward. “’Arry is not well. He is injured, badly. I am ’ere because he needs someone to take care of him.”

Ginny’s laugh was bitter. She threw her hands up in mock disbelief. “Oh, really? Sure, that’s why you’re here. How convenient, Fleur. Do you think I’m stupid? I just found out you’ve left Bill. And now, here you are, making yourself right at home in Harry’s house.”

Fleur’s expression did not falter. “It is not what you zink.”

“Not what I think?” Ginny cut her off, her voice rising. “Harry’s throwing me out, you’re leaving Bill, and now you’re both here like this? How long has this been going on, huh? Months? Years?”

“That’s enough!” Harry’s voice cut through the room like a whip. He stepped forward, his hand clutching the back of the sofa for support as pain rippled through his side. “This isn’t about some affair, Ginny. Stop trying to twist this into something it’s not.”

Ginny rounded on him, her eyes blazing. “Then explain it to me, Harry! Because from where I’m standing, this all looks pretty damn convenient. You don’t just wake up one day and decide to leave me, and she doesn’t just happen to walk away from Bill at the same time. So tell me, when did it start?”

Harry’s jaw tightened, his green eyes flashing with frustration. “It didn’t start, Ginny. There is no affair. You and I, we were done long before Fleur and I ever.”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence!” Ginny snapped. Her voice cracked, anger and hurt blending into something raw. “You’ve been distant for months, Harry. I thought it was the stress, the work. But now, now I see the truth. It was her.”

“Ginny,” Harry started, but Fleur stepped forward, placing a steadying hand on his arm. Her voice was calm but firm.

“Zis is not ze time for accusations,” Fleur said. “If you want ze truth, I will give it to you. Bill and I, our marriage has been over for a long time. But zat is between us. It has nothing to do with ’Arry.”

Ginny laughed again, this time without any humor. “Oh, spare me the righteous speech. You expect me to believe that? That it’s all just a coincidence? Harry leaves me, you leave Bill, and now you’re playing the Florence Nightingale act?”

“I am here because he saved my life,” Fleur said sharply, her voice cutting through Ginny’s tirade. “Because he is hurt. And because he has no one else right now.”

Ginny’s face faltered, just for a moment, but she quickly recovered. “He has no one else? What about me? What about Ron, Hermione, the entire bloody Weasley family?”

Harry shook his head, his voice quieter but no less firm. “You’re not here, Ginny. You haven’t been for a long time. And neither have I, really. That’s why this is over. You know it as well as I do.”

For a moment, the room was silent except for the faint ticking of a clock on the mantle. Ginny stared at him, her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. Finally, she turned to Fleur, her voice laced with venom.

“You think this will work? That you can just step into his life and everything will be perfect? You’ll see, Fleur. Harry will disappoint you too.”

Fleur’s calm demeanor shattered in an instant. Her blue eyes flared with anger as she stepped forward, standing tall and proud. There was an unmistakable fire in her voice as she replied.

“Stop zis, Ginny!” Fleur snapped. “Stop behaving like a spoiled princess who zinks ze world owes ’er everyzing!”

Ginny’s eyes widened in shock at the outburst, but Fleur was not finished.

“’Arry is a good man. A brave man. A man who has given more zan anyone for zis world, and he deserves love. True love. Not ze kind zat comes with conditions or half-hearted effort, but ze kind I will give ’im.”

Harry’s eyes flicked between the two women, his lips parting slightly as he struggled to process Fleur’s words.

“You will wake up one day, Ginny,” Fleur continued, her voice firm but tinged with something close to pity. “And you will realize what you ’ave lost. By zat time, it will be too late.”

Ginny’s face flushed red, her expression shifting between anger and disbelief. “How dare you.”

“How dare I?” Fleur interrupted, her voice rising. “Non, Ginny. How dare you! You stand ’ere, blaming me, blaming ’Arry, but you do not see ze truth. You were ze one who stopped fighting for him. You let go long before he did. And now, you are angry because someone else sees ze man he truly is.”

The words hung in the air like a challenge. Ginny opened her mouth to reply, but no words came. Her jaw clenched, her fists curling at her sides.

“You think you are angry at me,” Fleur said, her voice quieter now but no less intense. “But ze truth is, you are angry at yourself.”

Ginny’s breath hitched, and for a moment, she looked as though she might cry. But instead, she turned on her heel, storming toward the door.

“You’ll regret this, Harry,” she spat without looking back. “Both of you will.”

The door slammed behind her, the sound echoing in the now-quiet house.

Fleur let out a sharp exhale, her chest rising and falling as she worked to steady her breathing. She turned to Harry, her expression softening immediately when she saw the mix of exhaustion and surprise on his face.

“I am sorry,” she said quietly, her voice trembling slightly. “I should not ’ave lost my temper.”

Harry shook his head, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “No, Fleur. Don’t apologize. You were right.”

Fleur hesitated, then stepped closer, her hands brushing lightly over his shoulders as she helped him sit back down on the sofa. “You did not deserve zat. None of it.”

Harry sighed, leaning back against the cushions. “She’s hurt. She’s lashing out.”

“Non,” Fleur said firmly, sitting beside him. “Zat is no excuse. You ’ave given so much, ’Arry. You deserve better zan zis.”

Her words were like a balm, soothing the wounds Ginny’s outburst had left behind. Harry looked at her, something unspoken passing between them.

“Thank you,” he said softly.

Fleur gave him a small, gentle smile. “Always.”

With that, she rose and moved toward the kitchen. As the sound of her preparing food filled the room, Harry let his eyes close, the weight of the day slowly fading under the warmth of her presence.