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Rise of the Dark Angel	By : isabel88 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 61368 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 12
Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling does, as such, I am NOT making any money off of this....

Chapter List
- 18
- 19
- 20
Title: Rise of the Dark Angel

Author: Mykkila09

Co-Author: Tonks-is-cool

Chapter: 19: The French Connection Part One

Settings: AU after OOTP: It's canon up to the beginning of the battle at the DOM when they are in the veil room, after that, it's AU and mine and Tonks.

Pairings: HP/DM; LV/SS; LM/RL; NL (CL)/LL; RL/BL

Warnings: This story will contain mentions of Violence, Child Abuse, Adult Language, Alcohol Use, Slash/Het Sexual situations and Death. Please discontinue reading if such scenes or themes are offensive to you.
A/N: so...so...so sorry for the extremely long wait, but things are good now...so without further ado, the new chapter! Enjoy :)
Disclaimer: I own nothing…if I did, Ginny would have died in the CoS, Dumbledore would have choked on his lemon drops and Harry would have stood up for himself against Molly and Dumbledore.

Disclaimer 2: this story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
“Talking”

'Thinking'

|Hedwig’s mental speak|

-Sesshomaru/Fawkes’ mental speak-

[Harry’s mental speak]

Letter or commentary/introduction and flashback

{Parssseltongue}

~…~ indicates scene change

Timeline of RDA;
Last week of May, chapters 1-3: the Battle at the DOM; Sirius dies; Harry pulls away from his friends; reveals everything to Severus Snape; Neville has dreams/memories about his past

June through July, chapters 4-6: Snape talks to Voldemort about what Harry told him; Harry has a meeting with Gringotts; Sirius’ will reading; Remus, the twins, Neville, Luna, Draco and Snape all go to Potter Manor with Harry; Harry meets with the Dark Lord; the teens are presented to the Death Eaters; Hedwig reveals a connection between Neville and the LeStranges and they find out that Neville is really a LeStrange; Harry convinces Remus to start accepting his wolf; the Malfoy men come to a realization regarding their lives and feelings for Harry and Remus; Snape and Voldemort get together; Harry and Voldemort discuss the events of the Chamber of Secrets and the prophecy;

June through August, chapters 7-9: Voldemort explains everything to Snape as the two get closer; news about Fudge’s firing and other events in the Wizarding World in the prophet; Narcissa attacks Draco and the consequences; Harry and Draco are tasked to retrieve Slytherin’s locket; Voldemort begins to have suspicions about Harry possibly being a Horcrux and assigns Harry and Draco the task of capturing Horace Slughorn; Draco and Harry become closer; Albus is worried and suspicious; Remus learns some truths about Fenrir Greyback; Remus and Lucius confess to each other; Voldemort lays out a plan to his Circle; Bill and Charlie contact the twins; Snape reveals a truth about Harry’s lineage as Voldemort confess to Harry being a Horcrux and his plans regarding what to do; Fred and George denounce the Weasley Clan and join the Potter Clan and Luna goes under the Potter Clan protection; Voldemort’s plans gets further along; Bill and Charlie are taken to Potter Manor where truths are revealed to them and then they meet with Voldemort

August, chapters 10-12: Voldemort, Snape and Harry talk about the past and Voldemort explains the Horcruxes to Harry; Voldemort and Harry complete the Horcrux removal and he gives Harry a boon; the others explain Cory’s past and Draco’s relationship with his father; the Weasley family and Hermione discuss Fred and George’s disownment and Hermione starts to have regrets; Remus and Fenrir get further along in their mission; the teens head to Diagon Alley—one, for Cory to visit Gringotts, two, to collect their school supplies and three, the opening of Fred and George’s store; altercations in DA as the teens run into the Gryffindors, an old face (for Draco) and some Snakes; revelations are exchanged between Pansy, Blaine and the Potter Manor crew; Harry meets with Voldemort and reveals his boon; the Weasleys and Hermione report back to Albus; Lucius attends a meeting the Board of Governors and Albus where he becomes the new DADA professor; Dolores Umbridge is kidnapped

August to first week of September, chapters 13-15: the teens prepare for their return to Hogwarts; Harry and Luna set a plan in motion on the train; the first night yields shocking events—one, the students reaction to their DADA professor, two, the Quartet give a show, three, Draco addresses the Slytherins, and four, Harry speaks to the Gryffindors; breakfast is an interesting affair when a meeting is scheduled between Dumbledore and Harry and the Prophet makes its entrance, revealing its shocking headline; Hermione confronts Harry; a Snake comes to a realization; first DADA lesson with surprising results

First week of September, chapters 16-18: the Lions discuss their missing housemates, students are shocked and surprised to hear Harry’s thoughts on the situation; lunch is an interesting affair; Potions class brings a turn of events; Harry meets with Dumbledore where Fawkes confirm a suspicion of his; he then meets with McGonagall and makes a decision regarding Quidditch; Hermione explains things to Ron; Harry completes a mission for Voldemort; Ron pulls a drastic move; Harry, Snape, Luna, Draco and Cory visit the Chamber of Secrets; Draco and Harry get closer and Harry visits the Snake’s pit; Harry has another meeting with Dumbledore; Fred and George prepare for one of Voldemort’s plans; George switches places with Harry as the teen goes off to Malfoy Manor; Harry, Lucius, Draco and Voldemort arrive in France
Okay! And now that we’re caught up, on with the story

As Voldemort and Lucius headed into the room, Harry stayed out on the balcony. He still couldn’t believe he was in Paris, France. Still fascinated, he looked around. “Where are we?”
“In a private suite on the top floor of a five star Muggle Luxury Hotel,” Draco replied, “it’s situated in a historic mansion right in the heart of Paris.”
Harry stared around wide-eyed, taking in all the expanse of light, mostly yellow-white, coloured stone buildings with many dark grey or green tarnished gables and rooftops. A few roofs or facades were decorated with animals, or magical creatures like lions or gargoyles. Everything looked scrubbed clean, cheerful, grand and beautiful.
Paris was a sprawling city, but there seemed to be certain logic to it; a kind of spiralling form, which grew gradually out from a point to the east on that island in the middle of the river.
He noted how much green was interspaced between the buildings of the city as there seemed to be a lot of parks scattered over the area, and the streets were lined with long alleys of trees in the middle or on both sides. Most of the buildings he could see appeared to be of the same height—about four to seven floors—with a few notable exceptions. The elegant metal structure of the Eifel Tower climbed into the sky artfully directly in front of him. It was as if he could reach it if he only stretched his hand out a bit further.
Suddenly, he had a longing to jump on his broom and whiz around it.
Down on the street, throngs of people were walking along the sidewalks, chattering away. Looking back and forth, he could see that the long, straight, wide boulevards were littered with cafés and shops, attracting an ever—changing stream of visitors. He could make out a circular place to the side with a statue of a horse and rider on a stone pedestal in the middle.
When he gazed in the other direction, he noticed a huge white, stone archway in the middle. There was also something standing tall, slender and sharp exactly on the centre point, sparkling golden at the top.
All of the roundabouts had wide avenues running towards them, reminding him of the spokes of a wheel. Muggle cars and buses whirled along these streets like and endless, colourful river. And then, Harry of course followed the course of the real river Seine with his eyes as it glittered and meandered through the middle of the city with smaller and larger boats cruising up and down.
Everything seemed to vibrate with energy. Wow.
As he stared out at the city, Harry couldn’t help but to remember when he had flown over London twice before; back in second year when he and Ron had stolen Mr Weasley car and then again summer of ’95, but that was but that was in the night. Like Paris, London was huge, and he could tell there were some similarities in the design of the two cities.
Just slightly behind, staring at his boyfriend, Draco had a huge smile on his face. He loved seeing the animated expression on Harry’s face as he took in his first look at Paris. A scowl appeared briefly as he thought on what he knew of Harry’s home life and he knew that if he ever met the Dursleys, they would pay for what they had done.
Shaking his head to bring himself back to the present, he chuckled softly when Harry eagerly leaned over the rail of the balcony so that he could see the crowds better. Grinning, he stepped closer to the teen and nudged him, pointing to the one rooftop further away with an especially ugly pair of gargoyles.
Harry turned and looked to where the blond was gesturing, only to blink in surprise. The ‘thing’ had moved! So, they were not a couple of stone sculptures like he had first thought, but actually magical creatures! And well camouflaged so the Muggles below didn’t notice a thing.
Seriously, how cool was that?
Harry laughed incredulously. He felt giddy with happiness, “Ok. Wow! Now, what is that over there? That bell shaped golden dome? And that dark skyscraper? I recognized the Eiffel Tower of course, I’ve seen photos before, but I didn’t know there was a park there.”
“Ok, look,” Draco pointed, “that is the Hotel des Invalides. Inside is Napoleon’s tomb.” He pointed to another spot, “Over there is the Montparnasse tower. And the area right behind the Eiffel Tower is called the Champ de Mars, or the Field of Mars.”
Harry nodded. It all looked so grand. He then nudged Draco and pointed in another direction, “And what is that great place over there? With that—that column or whatever? And the big archway or gate, what is that?”
“Place de la Concorde,” answered Draco, “The grandest and most famous square in Paris. Look, to the west are the Arc de Triomphe and the famous Champs Elysees. Place de la Concorde used to be called Place Louis XV, but then it became the Place de Revolution and the site of the guillotine.”
“Ge-you-tene? What’s that?” Harry asked, slightly embarrassed that he didn’t know anything. He had left his Muggle primary school when he was only eleven years old. So, how should he know anything about French History or geography? That was Granger’s forte.
“It’s Gi-yo-teen,” Draco pronounced slowly, patience colouring his tone. “The French, like the Spanish, always pronounces double ‘L’s like a ‘y’. The Guillotine was a contraception invented to kill many people most quickly, cleanly and efficiently by beheading them. As far as I remember, nearly 3000 Muggles were executed that way. After the Reign of Terror, the Place de Revolution was renamed Place de la Concorde. All this happened during a violent period of Muggle history called the French Revolution.”
“Sounds like it was an awful time,” Harry commented, “but I guess the Dark Lord would love such a machine to get rid of Muggles efficiently.” His gaze caught another structure, “And what about that pillar, the stone needle standing in the middle?”
“That is the ‘Obelisque de Louxor’,” Draco said, “it’s over 3000 years old.”
“An Obelisk?” Harry’s eyes widened just a bit, “You mean, an ancient Egyptian artefact? Like those old tombs of the ancient kings where Bill crawls around, searching for treasures?”
“Yes, exactly,” Draco nodded. “It is decorated with hieroglyphics and is topped with a gold and bronze pyramid cap.”
“Wow!” Harry exclaimed. “How did it get there? It looks quite large. Is that massive stone?”
“Yes, it’s made from one solid block of granite,” Draco explained. “The French received it as a present from Egypt over a hundred years ago. I suppose it was transported to France by some Muggle ship.”
“Okay,” Harry nodded, looking back over his shoulder. “That big gate in the middle of the roundabout, what’s that? You said ‘arcthethrumph.”
Draco chuckled, “Arc de Triomphe, and it was commissioned by Napoleon as a memorial for the French Army. The place was formerly called the star place or the Place de l’Étoile. Now it’s called Place Charles-de-Gaulle. It’s at the centre of twelve avenues. You can tell by the amount of Muggle cars in the area.”
“Cool,” Harry nodded.
Draco smiled and then gently turned Harry by his shoulders, “’Do you see that green park and the U-shaped large building in the other direction?”
“Yeah,” Harry nodded as his eyes caught what the blonde was talking about.
“Well that’s the Tuilleries Gardens and the Louvre to the east,” Draco said.
“The Louvre!” Harry grinned, happy he recognized the name, “that’s that famous museum, isn’t it? It was once a palace.”
“Yep,” Draco nodded, “it’s awesome. Even if we see nothing else, we have to go there.” He turned slightly to face Harry, “how come you know about this, but almost no other Paris landmarks?”
Harry remained quiet for a few seconds. It’s not that he didn’t want to say anything as he wasn’t ashamed of his childhood, but rather, he knew how the blond was and didn’t want Draco to waste any more anger over something that couldn’t be changed. In the end, he decided to be honest. “As a kid at the Dursleys, I once watched a TV programme while I was doing chores.”
Draco’s eyes narrowed and his hands clenched into fists at the thought of those blasted Muggles once again.
“Draco, it’s ok,” Harry soothed. “It was a long time ago and things have changed now.”
Taking a deep breath, the blond nodded, “You’re right. It’s just, I get so angry—
“I know,” Harry cut him off gently, “but it’s in the past. Nothing you can do except focus on the here and now and the future.”
Deciding to distract the blond, he walked along the balcony, his gaze travelling over all the roofs. Far away, on top of a hill, a white building—like a dome of fine sugar—flashed in the sun, rising tall above the surrounding roof tops, “So what’s that? That white sugar dome?”
“Sacre Coeur,” Draco answered, “it’s a Muggle church. It’s build on top of Montmatre—a hill that was already considered to be special; holy by the Ancient Gauls and Romans. From there, you have a superb view all over the city. Of course the best view is from on top of the Eiffel Tower.”
“Can we get up there somehow? Or fly around it?” Harry asked, “That would be fun, don’t you think?”
Draco grinned. It did sound like fun, “I suppose father will allow us to do that as long as we’re concealed under the Disillusion Charm, or maybe late at night when all the Muggle visitors are gone.” He put his hand in his pocket and took out the Omnicular and gave it to Harry, “Look; you can see how they look, like ants, crawling around below and all over the tower.”
“Thanks!” Harry was delighted as he took the Omnicular, similar to those from the Quidditch World Cup. Eagerly, he raised it to his eyes and adjusted the controls. “I see what you mean. But, how do they get up on those platforms? Oh, wait, I see. There’re elevators and stairs. Okay then, but sweet Merlin, look how long those queues are! There must be hundreds and hundreds of people standing there and all of them waiting.”
“They do have to stand in line for hours,” Draco said as he took the Omnicular from Harry, “but the spectacular view is really worth it. Father took me up there to the third, the highest platform once before.”
Harry felt arms around his waist and he leaned back into the chest pressing against his back.
“You ok?” Draco asked as he rested his chin on Harry’s shoulder.
Harry smiled as he brought up a hand to hold onto Draco’s arms. “I’m fine. I’m just taking it all in. This is the first time I’ve been to France.” He paused and let out a rueful chuckle, “first time I’ve been anywhere really. Well, besides our visits to London this summer and to Abbotsbury to get Slughorn. I don’t count that weird road trip with the Dursleys before first year. Oh, and then there was the Quidditch World Cup…”
Draco’s arms tightened briefly, “when this is all over, when our Lord has won over the Wizarding World, you and I are going to travel.” He was determined to give Harry everything those wretched Dursleys had not.
Harry liked that idea. “Just the two of us?”
Draco grinned, “Well, I don’t think Luna would forgive us if we left her behind.”
“That is true,” Harry laughed, “so, it’ll be me, you, Luna girl, Cory and let me guess, Blaise and Pansy too?”
“Yes,” Draco nodded, rocking Harry’s shoulder a bit, “and I’m sure if things continue to progress how they seem to be, then we’ll end up having Seamus, Dean, Lavender, Parvati and Gabriella as well.”
Harry laughed again, unknowingly drawing looks from both Lucius and Voldemort. “Why don’t we do it when we finish Hogwarts? Kind of like a We-won-the-war-and-actually-survived-school celebration? Or, we can do it during the next summer, as a celebration before we start our seventh year.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Draco smiled. “You know, many pure-blood wizards used to go on a yearlong journey after leaving school, to see the world, learn about interesting people, places, and foreign, fascinating magic. It was tradition.” He leaned his head to the side to see the expression on the teen better, “I love you.”
Harry turned his head and captured the blond’s lips in a brief kiss, “I love you too.”
After a while, Harry looked around the balcony again. From the windows and other balconies, he could see that there were quite a few rooms up there. “You said this is a hotel? I would’ve thought we would come to some Malfoy place, not a Muggle hotel?”
Draco smirked. “Actually, this is both. This building was once a palace for French royalty, Muggle of course, then it was converted into a discreet, luxurious and sophisticated private residence. In the middle of the nineteenth century, my great-granduncle bought this apartment for our family. They had to, because the old, ancient Malfoy townhouse was somewhere over there,” he pointed to the east, “in an area that was designated to be demolished and completely rebuild on a grand scale. Great-granduncle Yvain was ordered by the French Ministry of Magic to give up his house and move elsewhere.”
Harry looked at Draco completely astonished, “Oh. Why?”
“The old Paris was a regular warren, full of dilapidated buildings and dense and irregular medieval alleyways. This meant increasing problems for the Muggles, like blocked traffic and poor hygiene in these old, over-populated districts,” Draco explained. “Imagine, the city’s population had reached over one million Muggles. Only one in five houses had any running water. Of these, most only had plumbing on the ground floor. The streets had no pavements for the pedestrians; you had to walk in mud and muck. Absolutely disgusting! The French king, Napoleon the third, and the city prefect Baron Haussmann wanted to change that. The king had been to London and had been very impressed. So impressed he wanted to create a capital just as modern, or even better. Haussmann understood the desperate need to reorganize the city as he had grown up during the cholera epidemic of Paris which had killed, like maybe twenty thousand Muggles. They developed grand plans to completely restructure and modernize Paris. However, that meant that many of the old houses had to be pulled down first and the rubble cleared away, before they could even begin building new streets and new, modern houses. Without magic, it was quite the undertaking for the Muggles.”
“Hmmm, okay,” Harry nodded, completely intrigued by what he was hearing.
“Now, Yvain Malfoy was a proud pure-blood wizard,” Draco continued, “he wanted to simply strengthen the Anti-Muggle charms and wards around his house and curse or kill all the Muggles working nearby. However, the Ministry of Magic was of the opinion that it was better to get all the wizard houses, shops, bars and workshops on the Ile de Cite out of the way, to relocate to another area in Paris to avoid possible hassle with the Muggles. I was told Yvain protested and raged, as did a lot of other, older wizards. They didn’t want to yield to the Muggle government’s plans, but in the end, the Ministry convinced the protesters that it was more important to adhere to secrecy. The Ministry offered Yvain this apartment for a very reasonable price and a hefty sum to renovate the Malfoy Manor out in the country by way of compensation.”
Harry listened, his intrigue turning to astonishment. The city of Lights below him looked so grand, so fantastic, but he had never dreamed to consider just how this city came about or what it might have meant for the people living here over a hundred years ago.
“You have to admit though that he got a good deal out of it,” Draco pointed out, “this location is superb and the new apartment was very modern and comfortable compared to the old, dilapidated house that was only held up by magic anyway.”
“Okay sure, but, what about the Muggles in the rest of this house?” Harry questioned, “Don’t they wonder why they can’t get into this part of the building?”
“No they don’t,” Draco smirked, “See, when this was house was modernized and turned into a Muggle hotel some forty years ago, grandfather Abraxas and granduncle Sebastian renewed the Muggle repelling charms plus those charms that ensured adequate heating, water supply, plumbing and all that stuff. Nowadays, father and uncle Celestin have to check that regularly and recast the spells every now and then and make adjustments as necessary. If the Muggle management of the hotel thinks about this floor, they are under the impression that there are four luxurious suites up here and that number three is permanently reserved for the use of an eccentric, old money Muggle family that values discretion and privacy.”
Harry couldn’t help but to chuckle. He should’ve known that the Malfoy family would’ve figured something out. When it came to their family and privacy, he hadn’t met anyone that was as serious about as the Malfoys were.
“What?” Draco grinned, “Well we are a bit eccentric, aren’t we? We usually come and go without crossing through the main lobby or using the elevators. Most of the time, there’s nobody here. Father and mother visit a few times per year and the French Malfoy clan use this apartment perhaps once a month. It’s nice to have the option, you know?”
“I suppose,” Harry nodded, “And these charms work on everyone, right? Like say, maids or other guests?”
“Yes,” Draco smiled, “there’s only one door connecting to the very end of the hallway and it has all sorts of charms on it. Whenever someone, say a Muggle maid, comes near, they get confounded and believe that someone else has already cleaned up, so there is nothing for them to do. As for the guests, should they approach the door, it works the same way; they immediately believe there is nothing to see here and that they want to go elsewhere right away.”
“Clever, very clever,” Harry commented, “of course I expected nothing less from a Malfoy. And what about some snacks? Or breakfast, lunch, dinner?”
Draco looked at him, “Are you hungry?”
“Not really,” Harry shook his head, “I’m just curious as to how this works.”
“We go out to dine usually when we’re in town,” Draco said, “and there’s also a very fine hotel restaurant downstairs.” He saw the shocked look on Harry’s face and chuckled, “Don’t look so shocked, these French Muggles do know how to cook. Even father or mother can’t find anything to condemn them. Or, we can send our house elf to fetch refreshments or menus we would like from a selection of restaurants operated by wizards. Gigi prepares petite dejeuner or small snacks or tea in the kitchenette for us.”
Upon hearing that, Harry’s stomach chose that moment to remind him with a low growl that he was a bit hungry, “Oops,” he grinned at Draco.
“Guess someone likes the sound of the French cuisine and wants a taste after all,” Draco teased.
Before either one could say more, they were interrupted.
“Harry, Draco,” Voldemort called out to them, “come here.”
The two boys separated and headed into the suite. Harry didn’t know what to expect because the only hotel room he had ever seen had been that dingy hotel in Cokeworth the day before his eleventh birthday with the Dursleys. This hotel was as different from that hotel—as Malfoy and Potter Manor were different from the Weasleys’ or Dursleys’ house—in that it was simply gorgeous.
They were in a large, tastefully furnished and lavishly decorated living room, with ivory coloured walls, featuring lots of marble, gilded mirrors and beautiful mouldings. A sparkling crystal chandelier hung overhead. The furniture looked elegant, antique and expensive to Harry. Panoramic bay windows offered views of the Eiffel Tower and the bridges over the River Seine. There were a few doors and a hallway branching off the room and Harry supposed that that’s where the bedrooms and bathrooms would be. Draco had mentioned a kitchenette and dining room as well.
Voldemort indicated to the couch opposite the one he was sitting in, “Sit…both of you.”
“Is something the matter?” Harry asked as he and Draco sat down.
“No,” Voldemort smiled briefly, “We wanted to recap our plan of action prior to the arrival of William Weasley. You should both be aware of all of the relevant information.”
Draco nodded in agreement as his father joined them, “Sounds reasonable.”
“We are going to stay here until Sunday afternoon,” Voldemort continued, “this apartment consists of this drawing room, a dining room, a kitchenette and I believe four bedrooms.”
He exchanged a quick glance with Lucius, who nodded, drawling, “I suggest you two take the sapphire room as we have already chosen the beryl and ruby room.”
Draco nodded while Harry was curious as to how different the bedrooms were decorated and how comfortable the beds were. Judging by the very nice furniture in this room, he knew the beds wouldn’t disappoint him. He did hope to find plenty of free time to cuddle and fool around with Draco though.
Voldemort cast a quick Tempus. “In one hour we have our first meeting scheduled with Weasley and Marcellin Delacour down in one of the smaller meeting rooms of the Muggle hotel. It is to ensure everything went according to our previous planning. If nothing has changed, then we will depart for the Delacour Manoir via a Portkey that Delacour has promised to provide.”
“Okay,” nodded Harry.
“Madame Delacour and her two daughters, Fleur and Gabrielle, shall await our arrival at their Manor,” said Lucius, “You should keep in mind that this is a family visit and at the same time the hors d’oeuvre, the entrée to our diplomatic mission. William Weasley wants to introduce—or better, reintroduce, his good friend Harry Potter officially to his fiancées family. And because Harry now considers us,” he made a gesture encompassing himself, Draco and Voldemort, “as a part of his new life, this is the perfect time to accompany him.”
“Okay,” Draco nodded, however, Harry frowned.
“I thought we were here to meet some French diplomats to discuss a treaty or something? Why did you say ‘ordoves’?”
Draco shook his head with a smile, “Hors d’oeuvre.” He pronounced carefully and fluently in French. “That means the first course of a meal. Entrée, like to enter, or an entrance.”
Harry nodded, though he was still a little lost.
Seeing that, Lucius explained further, “We shall talk about plenty of politics this weekend. However, diplomacy, especially with the French, is like a complicated dance—one that has many subtle entwined back and forward movements. You do not just walk up to them and demand what you want immediately as that would be discourteous and it would antagonize the other party right from the start, making future dealings to be very difficult.”
Harry nodded as he was starting to understand what was going to happen. He stayed quiet though as he saw that Lucius and Voldemort both seemed about to be slipping into their mentor modes.
“First, we have to get to know each other better and that means simply spending time together in a neutral environment, such as dining together, and not talk about serious topics,” explained Voldemort who sneered at the last part.
“It might seem like a waste of time at first glance, but it is vital to establish a foundation, a basis, for diplomacy. I am certainly an impatient man often enough, however, I now desire something important from the French and other nations on the continent,” Voldemort continued, “and that is, non-intervention should Cornelius Fudge, Rufus Scrimgeour or Albus Dumbledore Floo call them for help. I’m planning a coup d’état against our current Ministry for Magic, but I do not want to wage a war against the whole Wizarding World. I do not want to order my Death Eaters to fight against Aurors from other nations. I do not want to have their blood on my hands if that could be avoided. So, I have to convince the French Ministry that staying neutral in this internal conflict of Britain is in their best interests. If the French agree, then the other countries, like Germany, will follow their lead.”
Harry nodded as that made sense.
Lucius took over the explanations, “We—and I mean all of us in this room—have to counter Dumbledore’s propaganda in the ICW. We need to prove to our French hosts and the French Ministry of Magic that the Dark Lord is not on a mindless, murderous rampage out to kill everybody he comes across. We have to convince them that yes, there is a civil war brewing in Britain and that yes, there is a conflict between different opinions in our society—point in case, magical education and tradition versus so called progress, or what rights magical creatures and beings should have and especially how to deal with the Muggles and Mudbloods—but that it is not the goal of the British Dark side to attack any other nation or to completely destroy the British Wizarding or the Muggle World, as Dumbledore has been telling them since the seventies.”
Harry and Draco exchanged a glance and nodded, but neither one said anything.
“Weasley, Delacour and I have done a great amount of work here already to further our understanding,” Lucius declared as he continued with his explanation, “fortunately for us, there is some common ground between us and the French magical community concerning general politics towards Muggles—to keep the magical world safe and keep magic alive—and how minorities are treated or should be treated; for example half-breeds between wizards and Magical beings such as Veela, Goblins, Vampires and Werewolves. The French Wizarding community is disturbed by the negative climate in Britain; all that distrust, prejudice and prosecution concerning these beings, like the Anti-Werewolf Legislation that Umbridge pushed through.”
Harry nodded, “I understand now. So, I’m going to visit the Delacours as a friend of Bill’s and you tag along to sweet talk with not only the Delacours but some other blokes from the French Ministry.” He paused, “I met the Delacours back in fourth year, but I never talked much to Fleur or her sister. In fact, as I recall, the longest conversation I’ve had with them is after the second task when I got little Gabrielle out of the Black Lake. I remember them being very grateful that I had gotten her out alive.”
“Exactly Harry,” Voldemort agreed, “this gratitude they feel towards you for rescuing their younger daughter was the door opener that William used to start talking with the family about you. He carefully probed where they stood in this conflict over in Britain. They were astonished of course to learn that William had his own opinions and that he did not follow Dumbledore blindly just because he is a Weasley. They know that Dumbledore tried, and continues to do so, to get allies in France.”
“You mean like Madame Maxime?” Harry injected.
“Precisely,” Voldemort nodded, “As you know Olympe Maxime accompanied Rubeus Hagrid on that failed mission last summer to persuade the giants to fight for Dumbledore’s side. William told me that the Delacours have talked with Madame Maxime and other staff members from Beauxbatons in the meantime. She likes Hagrid. It is why she had agreed to accompany him on that trip. However, she does not like the current political and public climate in Britain at all. Because you Harry were allowed—or forced depending on one’s viewpoint—to participate and because Fleur Delacour and Viktor Krum were cursed during the third task, the Delacours and Madame Maxime are very wary of Dumbledore and the British Ministry for Magic in general. They do not know what really happened. They are sceptical of Dumbledore’s explanations by the way, and I do not intend to enlighten them.”
Harry grimaced slightly. He didn’t like this reminder either.
“They feel that the Beauxbaton and Durmstrang participants of the tournament were treated unfairly. They believe that the whole tournament was rigged, which I admit freely that it was, but they do not need to know why or how exactly,” Voldemort continued. “I merely suggested to William that he should try to soothe their ruffled feathers. He apologized for the inconvenience of how their innocent champion was caught up in a purely British conflict in the battle for control between Dumbledore, the Ministry and the Dark Lord.”
Harry listened and nodded as this made sense to him. He remembered the talk he and Bill had had during the summer after the eldest Weasley had joined their side. Everything Voldemort had just said had pretty much been the topic of his and Bill’s conversation and he knew that it was those conversations with the Delacours that had made it possible for Voldemort to meet with them now to talk negotiations.
“From there,” Lucius picked up, “it was not such a big step for William to talk with Marcellin and Apolline about the political situation in Britain, France and on the continent in general, and next, to introduce them to the outrageous and seemingly impossible idea that you and the Dark Lord have resolved your differences.
“Since the Tri-Wizard tournament, Harry Potter,” Lucius especially emphasized Harry’s name, “is perceived as a strong willed character by the French, as inertly good, brave, just and fair. If you can find common ground with Draco Malfoy, your former school rival, and the Dark Lord, the one who murdered your parents, all by yourself without being coerced and agree with at least some of his goals, then the Dark Lord cannot be all that evil in conclusion.”
Harry grimaced. He hated to be described like that, but he understood that it was necessary for their success that he played a variation of the role of the Boy-Who-Lived.
Knowing the cause for the grimace, Voldemort smirked before taking over the explanations once again, “Fortunately for us, Monsieur Delacour works as the senior Undersecretary in the French Department for Magical Cooperation. Louvel Beauchene is the Head of this Department. During the past weeks, Delacour had already talked a few times with his superior about the situation in Britain, hinting that he has special insight into the situation because of a British contact. He explained that what Dumbledore or the British Ministry of Magic tells the press, or the ICW, is not the whole truth. That, in fact, there are many people in Britain who support the Dark side; not because they are homicidal, but because they believe in our cause for a good reason. An example of those would such wizards and witches that have been harassed or harmed by Muggles in the past.
“Beauchene was also told that almost all wizards with some magical being heritage supported me because of the rampart prejudice and persecution that the French, and other countries, already criticize. William told that it went very well and that when Marcellin Delacour revealed that he could probably arrange a meeting with the leader of the ‘other’ side of Wizarding Britain, the Dark Lord, Beauchene was wary but intrigued and curious and so was the French Minister for Magic, whose name by the way is Durand.
“Now, the Delacours have heard from William that you are perfectly fine and healthy,” Voldemort smirked. “He assured them that you are not forced or coerced to support me in any way and that you are not held under the Imperius curse either. Nevertheless, they want to see you for themselves before they are ready to believe that William was not merely hoodwinked or confounded by myself or one of my Death Eaters.”
“That makes sense,” Harry nodded. “Of course they would be suspicious at first. Why are they so willing to listen to a different opinion, though?”
“Compared to the style of the Daily Prophet, the French press has reported, astonishingly accurate, what has been happening in Britain,” replied Lucius, “Of course if a French reporter tries to interview random people in Diagon Alley, all he usually receives is the bleating of frightened sheep. Most Dark side supporters do not dare openly come out and say that they wish that the Dark Lord would win and cleanse the Ministry of Magic, change laws, push back the influence of all those half-bloods and Mudbloods and tackle all the problems of our corrupt society. Nevertheless, the French newspapers have reported that not everybody is fond of Dumbledore or of his policy or how he runs Hogwarts.”
“Tonight the Delacours have conveniently invited Monsieur Beauchene and his junior assistant Aristide Géroux, to attend an informal dinner,” Voldemort looked at Harry, a smirk on his face, “Well, to them and the Malfoys, it will be in an informal dinner; however, in reality, this affair will be quite formal. Hence our matching formal dress robes to make a good first impression.”
Harry had a thoughtful expression on his face as he listened attentively. The thoughtful looked turned into a frown when he saw the mischievous smirks and glances that were exchanged and then, he caught on.
“You’re going to have a laugh at my expense, won’t you?” he groaned, “What will they serve? Snails or that fish soup—some ‘Bolabaise’ or whatever—that Fleur had liked so much? Or will it be oysters or some other slimy thing that is a French delicacy?”
He paused as he realized something else. A formal dinner; this could be just like the Yule Ball, or worse. He blanched, “Bloody hell! This is going to be another dinner with wine glasses and tiny forks and little spoons for different things. And what in Merlin’s world am I going to talk to them about? I don’t speak French, at all and I know nothing about French history or their politics. I really don’t want to look like a fool in front of these Ministry guests or offend Bill’s new family and ruin everything.”
Draco couldn’t help it; he burst laughing loudly while his father and Voldemort managed to only grin as if they were two sharks playing at Cheshire cats. They did love to rile Harry up.
Harry huffed and pouted, even as he crossed his arms defensively over his chest. He bit his lip to stop the smile that threatened to escape at the joy and relaxed aura he could feel from the other three.
Draco managed to contain his laughter and leaned over, pecking a quick kiss on the brunet’s cheek. “Don’t worry; it won’t be that bad at all. They know you speak only English, and for hearing, I suppose father can cast the translator spell on your ears.”
Harry glanced over to Lucius who inclined his head regally.
“You’ll love their Manor and the food and wine,” Draco continued, “Snails broiled in butter, herbs and garlic is okay. There is so much more to French cuisine than those, so don’t be prejudiced. Just try a bite of everything. There’ll be fresh bread on the table—you can always count on that. And when it comes to the silverware, just look at what fork or whatever I use and you’ll manage just fine.” A thoughtful crease appeared, “I suppose the two of us will be seated next to, or opposite, either Fleur or her sister Gabrielle, so you can ask them for help should you need to. And if you do happen to make a faux pas, I’m sure everyone will just smile indulgently. You are Harry Potter after all.”
Draco grinned and then continued on in an exaggerated sweet voice, ‘Madame Delacour and the girls will most definitely coo all over you. Those gorgeous green eyes, the charming personality and bashful smile; they’ll say how handsome and adorable you are.”
Harry’s arms fell to his side and he stared at his boyfriend truly horrified, “I am NOT adorable! Oh sweet merciful Merlin! What if Gabrielle has some silly crush on me and is obsessed with hero worship?” he grimaced as he remembered Ginny Weasley and a few other girls back at Hogwarts.
“Then that is something you will have to put up with,” Voldemort injected smoothly, cutting through the boys’ antics. The tone in his voice was dangerous and wiped all mirth away, “Need I remind you as to the true purpose of this visit? If you have to be adorable, or the young Delacour daughter is obsessed with hero worship as you fear, then you will allow it. I shall not allow anything to prevent this mission from being a success. Have I made myself clear?”
“Yes my Lord,” Harry and Draco replied as one, with the blond reaching out to grab Harry’s hand in a reassuring grip.
“Harry,” Lucius came to the boy’s aide in an attempt to not only soothe him, but to diffuse the suddenly tensed atmosphere, “Don’t worry so much, really. Just be yourself; be polite and make small talk. Tell them what you told us; that this summer was the best of your life; that you finally feel comfortable in your skin and that you are happier now than you’ve ever been, now that you no longer dance to every tune that Dumbledore plays. And if that young girl harbours some secret crush on you, it doesn’t matter. No one expects you to propose to young Mademoiselle Delacour. William has already divulged that you are seeing my son. The Delacours know that you do not have any interest in young ladies at present.”
“And they are okay with this?” Harry asked as he entwined his and Draco’s fingers, “I mean, I know that any family would love to have Harry Potter as a son-in-law and add to the fact that I chose a male as the one to spend the rest of my life with.”
“True,” Lucius nodded, “but they really are okay with it. They are an old French pure-blood family. You seem to forget that Apolline Delacour is a half Veela. And the Headmistress of Beauxbaton is a half-giantess! The French are not as prejudiced as many so-called Light wizards of Britain are. Consequently, these wizards do not harbour any stupid Muggle prejudices against same sex couples. Most are what I believe young Muggles call ‘Bi’ anyway. Love and sex are nothing to be ashamed about, especially not here in Paris!”
“Oh…okay,” Harry let out a sigh as he fiddled with the hem of his sleeve, “So, um, sorry, is there anything special I need to be aware of? Any specific French customs or anything? I wasn’t raised the same way Draco was and I really don’t want to make a mess of things.”
Voldemort, Lucius and Draco exchanged looks. In front of them wasn’t the usually confident young man, but instead an insecure teen. The prospect of a formal dinner, charming the French Ministry representative and enduring the possible adoration of the Delacour family seemed to scare him much more than facing werewolves or dragons.
What they didn’t understand was that it wasn’t that he was scared of those, but of messing up. He knew how important it was to get the French on their side and he also knew just how pure-bloods, especially those very important and high in society had a low tolerance for anything not up to their standards. Just look at the Malfoys. He really wanted everything to work out perfectly.
“Well,” Draco started, falling back on the etiquette lessons he had received as a young boy, “their habits are not so different. Madame and Monsieur Delacour might offer you to call them by their given names because you’re such a close friend of Bill’s and also because you helped their daughters. Whereas they’ll expect us,” he gestured to himself, his father and the Dark Lord, “to address them with Madame or Monsieur Delacour and their daughters as Mademoiselles. The Minister of Magic is addressed as Monsieur le Ministre Durand, I believe. If you’re invited to dinner, it’s normal to bring something—chocolate of flowers are acceptable gifts, however, bringing wine is not. By doing that, it’s as if you’re saying that the host’s wine is worthless, which it most certainly is not.
“Politics and philosophy are perfectly acceptable and normal subjects for conversation in France and the French like to engage in long and sometimes heated discussions about them. You should only be careful what you say regarding Dumbledore and your reasons for changing sides. Basically, give them an edited version of the truth.
“And about the possible number of plates, cutlery and glasses, it really is nothing as sinister as you imagine. It won’t be any different from how we decorate our table at Malfoy Manor, or what the elves do at Potter Manor. If something is served that you absolutely don’t like, then just stick to bread; there will be plenty. Also, watch how much wine you drink. You need to keep your wits about you. I expect there’ll be a glass of champagne first, then white wine with the soup, salad or fish course, and later, a selection of superb red wines with the chateaubriand or similar red meat. Allow the house elves to always refill your water glass, but say ‘non merci’—and do it firmly—when they try to ply you with more wine. One glass of each kind per course is enough. If they are trained well, it’s sufficient if you tell them only once.”
Harry nodded, not completely placed at ease, but a little reassured. He was determined to do this right and not screw up.
Intent on getting them back on track, Voldemort cleared his throat to continue, “Monsieur Delacour will introduce our party to Monsieur Beauchene. After explaining the current state of affairs in Britain, we shall discuss our plans for the future of the British Wizarding world.”
“Okay,” Harry nodded, “And how long do you think that’ll take?”
“If all goes smoothly, he will agree to see us again tomorrow at noon either at the Delacour mansion or somewhere else here in Paris to hash out some details,” clarified Voldemort, “I cannot predict how quickly these negotiations will proceed. Beauchene, Delacour and Géroux will have to report back to their superior, the French Minister of Magic, Olivier Durand. At some point, the Minister will most likely want to meet both of us, but otherwise, I don’t believe you and Draco will have to accompany Lucius and myself all the time.”
Harry and Draco perked up at that. As interesting as their upcoming foray into diplomacy would be, they wanted some time for other things too.
Voldemort smirked as he understood their restlessness. “William has said that he, Fleur and Gabrielle would like to show you around Paris. It is possible that we will attend a concert, a show or an opera tomorrow evening, followed by a dinner somewhere here in ‘la Ville des lumieres’. Ideal would be if they, Minister Durand and Monsieur Beauchene, agreed to come here on Saturday; we can order dinner and talk privately without having to worry about wizarding news reporters spotting us or any eavesdropping spells. However that would require an unusual amount of trust, which I do not anticipate to build up so quickly. Well, we shall see. On Sunday at lunch, I hope to be able to meet them again to finalize the terms of our agreement and sign the contract of ‘Non Intergriere’. The both of you shall return to Hogwarts as planned on Sunday evening.”
“Ok, I understand,” Harry nodded. “Will you mention your change on the Muggle situation?”
“Yes,” Voldemort nodded as he shifted in his seat, “To succeed, I will have to reveal that my intentions towards Muggles are not as homicidal as they once were. Actually, William warned me in his most recent letter than the French are expecting me to prove this. They will test me, test us.”
Harry tilted his head in question and Draco and Lucius looked curiously at Voldemort with their typical arched eyebrow expression.
“I believe I mentioned tentative plans to meet for lunch, or dinner tomorrow, and a visit to a theatre or similar entertainment?” Voldemort sneered and shifted in his seat, again. He did not squirm. Dark Lords don’t squirm.
“Yeah,” Harry nodded, “So what?”
“William anticipated that they shall want to observe how my delegation and I conduct us in a wizard and a Muggle environment,” Voldemort explained, clearly not enthusiastic, but resigned to face this likely ordeal for the sake of achieving progress with the negotiations.
“Meaning that they want to see if I am able to endure Muggles all around me without causing a scene and throwing the Killing Curse around at the crowds,” he continued, “and if my wizard companions or possible body guards, as if I needed body guards, are trained well enough to not cause unwanted attention and necessitate the interference of an Obliviator squad.”
“Oh. Oh! So that’s why you decided to take me and the Malfoys along instead of someone like Bellatrix?” Harry reasoned.
Voldemort inclined his head. “Indeed. Bella is a skilled warrior, however, when it comes to situations like this, she is not best suited.”
Harry chuckled as Draco and Lucius smirked. “No, not really.”
“Wait,” said Harry after moment of pondering on what Voldemort had explained. “Does that mean that Aurors will follow and watch over us all the time? That’d be a nuisance.”
Voldemort and Lucius exchanged a brief glance before Voldemort answered. “Maybe not all the time, but I expect that we will be under frequent scrutiny and observation whenever we leave this apartment. Aurors could attempt to shadow us, Disillusioned, or otherwise disguised, or under Invisibility cloaks. So we all should take care how we act and what we talk about.”
The sudden appearance of a Malfoy house elf a pace away from Lucius, clad in a neatly pressed teat owl bearing a large M and the Malfoy crest, stopped any further conversations.
«Votre bagage a été mis là, comme vous instruit Gigi. Y a-t-il quelque chose de que Gigi peut faire pour vous, maître Malfoy?» (Your luggage has been put away, as you instructed Gigi. Is there anything Gigi can do for you Master Malfoy?)
Lucius looked around at the others. “Do you need something before we meet with Mr. Weasley and Mr. Delacour?”
“Can I get something to drink?” asked Harry. “And I would like to go to the loo and also, check out our room for a moment.”
“I think that’s a good idea,” Draco chimed in, “Father, would you excuse us for five minutes?”
Lucius and Voldemort exchanged another glance. It was clear they were a bit miffed, but amusement won out. It was obvious that the boys had enough of all the talking, and that especially Harry wanted a short break to relax with his boyfriend before he had to play his role as the ‘tarnished but still honourable Golden Boy’ to perfection and charm their French hosts.
Lucius waved them away, “Very well.”
With obvious relief, the two teens jumped up and headed towards the hallway like a flash, Draco leading the way.
Quickly casting a Tempus, Lucius checked the time. He called after them sternly, “You have fifteen minutes, alright? We need to tell you something else before William and Delacour arrive!”
“Yes sir!” and “Yes father!” chorused Harry and Draco over their shoulders before they disappeared from view.
“Gigi,” directed Lucius, “serve the boys some water and juice in the sapphire room and bring mineral water and a cup of coffee,” He waited a second for a nod from Voldemort, “two coffees, here for us.”
“Yes Master,” Gigi nodded before she disappeared to do as was told.
~…~
The moment the boys entered the so-called sapphire bedroom, Harry stopped and stared in amazement. A large white-bluish marble fireplace dominated one wall, and on the opposite wall, a door led him to a bathroom with matching luxurious Italian white and blue marble tiles, a huge soaking tub and a wash basin.
The wallpaper, the hangings, bedspreads, upholstery and cushions, everything was done in harmonious shades of sky and dark blue, combined with hints of amethyst and warm beige. The large, thick, royal blue and beige Oriental rug on the floor invited him to slip off his shoes and to bury his toes in the soft carpet.
The very heavy and solid-looking furniture was made from gilded, ornately carved dark woods.
‘Probably mahogany,’ Harry thought as he walked closer and let his fingers run over the wood, which was decorated with eagles, sphinxes and laurels.
A pair of Bergères together with a chaise lounge were arranged around the fireplace and near the window, and a large double bed with a gilded headboard beckoned to him under a gilded canopy.
A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling. The room’s windows were decorated with swaged, silky fabrics in heavy layers and the curtain panels were edged with gold tassels and fringe.
The walls and ceilings featured lavish decorations and ornamentation with moulded or painted figures. The motifs were such as stars, eagles, chimeras, sphinxes, griffons, strong men, slender, sprite-like dancing women, the acanthus leaf, honeysuckle, pineapples, rosettes, palm branches and wreaths of laurel. Depictions of sculptured torches or slim drop garlands separated the different parts of the motifs.
On the walls, Harry noticed two large gold-framed mirrors. On the side was a cabinet that had a pair of gilded girandoles with two proud golden lions resting to the left and right side.
Done with checking out the room, they focused on the bed. Sharing a grin, they ran towards it and jumped on, bouncing a little as they did so.
“Oh,” Harry moaned out as he fell against the pillows. “This bed is so comfortable.”
“I know,” Draco smirked as he followed.
“I wonder if we could take it back with us,” Harry mused.
Draco chuckled and very quickly moved to straddle Harry. “I’m not sure, besides, I rather like the bed back at Potter Manor.”
“Oh really?” Harry grinned as he reached up and pulled the blond’s head towards him. “I wonder why?”
Draco never got the chance to reply as his mouth was suddenly occupied in a kiss.
At first, the kiss was playful and tame as no tongues were involved; just lips. It quickly turned heated as mouths opened and tongues fought with each other.
Harry buried his hand in Draco’s blond locks and tightened his grip on the blond, pulling him even closer.
Draco moaned and shifted his hips, moaning again when he felt the growing erection beneath him.
“No,” Harry pulled away, panting heavily. “We can’t.”
“Why not?” Draco whined as he tried to resume their kiss. When that didn’t work, he started rolling his hips.
“Fuck!” Harry hissed. He dropped his hands to the blond’s waist, stopping his movements. “Draco…stop…your father told us fifteen minutes. We can’t.”
Draco groaned and buried his head in Harry’s shoulder. “Damnit.”
“I know,” Harry chuckled. “If we had more time, I’d be buried in you right now.”
The blond whimpered at the words, “Harry, you can’t expect me to behave and then say things like that.”
“I’m sorry,” Harry said as he rubbed Draco’s back.
Sighing, the blond rose up and kissed his boyfriend once more. “I love you and I really wished we had more time right now.”
“Same here,” Harry replied after he ended the kiss. He shifted the blond off of him, but pulled him close, tucking him into his side.
“Draco?” asked Harry after a minute of silence.
“Hmmm?”
“Does this décor style have a name?” Harry asked, gaze once again taking in the room.
Draco blinked. “I guess Neoclassical Empire; lots of gild and the motifs are reminiscent of Roman and Greek design.”
Harry looked over to the wall on the other side of the bed. There was a scene of two fine-looking, well-built men with pale skin, painted on the wall. One was standing relaxed with a spear upright in his hand, and the other was facing him, leaning against twin palm trees. Both were depicted almost in the nude, just with a piece of long cloth draped over one shoulder and barely hiding their crotch.
“You fit right in, you know?” Harry mused. “If you stood naked and still in that corner, everybody would take you for another expensive decoration.”
Draco chuckled. “I know; I’m that gorgeous. Just wait until tomorrow, when we visit the Louvre and the Tuileries.”
The two fell quiet as they relaxed and enjoyed each other’s presence.
~…~
While Harry and Draco were ‘inspecting’ their new accommodations, Voldemort and Lucius relaxed with water and coffee. They discussed how best to present their group, how to stay safe and how to avoid a potential blood bath.
They were aware that Monsieur Delacour would be nervous, wary and sceptical when he met their group. Considering what he had heard so far about Lord Voldemort, it was understandable. After all, this could be a trap; Lucius or Voldemort could have cursed Harry during the summer holidays, and then used him to get to Bill and then have sent the Curse breaker to France to deceive the Delacour family and now, they could attempt to put Marcellin under the Imperius to gain access to his manor and to the French Ministry of Magic. Additionally, Marcellin Delacour would be worried about the safety of his family and of his other guests, Messieurs Beauchene and Géroux.
Likewise, they could walk into a trap, an ambush. After all, it was possible that as soon as they entered that meeting room downstairs, or later, when the Portkey to the Delacour Manoir drops them off, they would find themselves surrounded by French and British Aurors. Or, there could be poisoned drinks that were offered with a false smile. It might affront their host if they cast scanners on everything they were about to drink or eat, but they would not risk not doing otherwise.
Voldemort and Lucius were confident that they would be able to fight back and escape an ambush, but what about the boys? And such a fight would be a disaster on all diplomatic fronts. Taking Muggles or the Delacour women as hostages would be the absolute last resort. They wanted to trust that William would not betray them and Harry on purpose, but one never knows. Delacour’s superiors might not truly believe what he told them. The French Minister could be inclined to believe a—until recently—well respected ancient wizard like Dumbledore over the words of a young English Curse Breaker.
Five minutes later, the boys returned.
“What did you have to tell us?” Harry asked as he and Draco sat down.
Voldemort explained his, and Lucius’, concerns and both boys sobered up.
“Bill would never betray me,” Harry protested.
“We know,” Lucius nodded, “however, they are valid concerns.”
Harry conceded with a nod.
In the end, they decided to watch each other’s backs and to keep their wands at the ready. To be able to instantly summon them with a flick of their wrists, the wands were placed in a wand holster hidden inside their right sleeve. But they would not walk through the Muggle part of this hotel or enter the meeting room with wands drawn—that would not only look odd and suspicious to the Muggles that were surely milling about in the hallways, but it might provoke an aggressive reaction from the French wizards. This whole endeavour was a huge risk, but the potential outcome was worth placing themselves in a certain amount of danger.
“Come here; stretch out both your left and right hand,” Voldemort gestured the boys closer.
Both complied, watching intrigued as the elder wizard whispered something in Parseltongue under his breath as he tapped his wand first to each of their right hand fingers and then twice on one of the small silver buttons on first Harry’s, then Draco’s left shirt cuffs. The polished, round metal disks were now two emergency Portkeys.
“Take care not to set this off accidently,” he cautioned. “This Portkey shall react to a quick double tap of one of your fingers, with no need to say ‘Portus’ or another word, in case you cannot—or do not—want to speak out loud. It will take you back here, into the Malfoy suite, should you need it. You have to firmly double tap and not just brush your fingertip over it, alright?”
“Yes sir, and thank you,” both boys muttered, lowering their arms again to their sides. They fidgeted.
Harry thought that it was strange, but if you were told not to touch or fiddle with something, you ended up doing just that.
Voldemort and Lucius exchanged a glance and then looked at the young men sombrely.
“If we are betrayed,” started Voldemort, only to be interrupted by Harry.
“We won’t!” the teen insisted. “Bill wouldn’t!”
A crimson glare, and a brief intense surge of the powerful wizard’s aura, silenced Harry’s indignant protest. Draco shuddered and lowered his eyes, intimidated.
“If we are betrayed,” Voldemort emphasized, “If there are Aurors attacking us when we arrive at Delacour Manoir, or anything similar happens during this weekend, I want you to be able to escape. Do you understand? Do not hesitate and do not play the heron. Lucius and I will manage. In case we do not follow immediately, or contact you within ten minutes time, call Gigi. Tell her to pack up everything we brought along and get out of Paris right away! Take the other Portkey back to Malfoy Manor, find the LeStranges and contact Severus and tell them what happened. That book is now set so that it will activate anytime when you touch it and utter the words ‘Vade mecum’, alright?”
He gestured over to a side board, on which lay the same grass green book on a silver platter, the Michelin Green Guide Flanders, Picardy and Paris, which had brought them here.
Neither teen had noticed it before.
“Alright, we’ll be careful,” acknowledged Harry with a nod of his head.
As there was no need to go over their warnings and reminders once more, they left the suite. As there was no Floo connection set up to a fireplace on the ground floor, they had decided to get to the meeting room Muggle style, using the elevator instead of side-along Apparition.
They got there ten minutes early and saw that the hotel had organised everything as had been specified; there was an oval shaped meeting table at one end of the rectangular room, seating eight, set up like for a Muggle conference, with mineral water, glasses, notepads and biros. At the other side of the room were a couple of bergère chairs and canapés arranged in a U-form, to provide a more casual, relaxed place to sit and talk. The overall colour scheme was striped beige and dark brown with gold accents; a sombre, neutral tone. The wand mouldings, drapes, gilded mirrors, chandeliers and the matching elegant furniture were all period.
Voldemort and Lucius exchanged looks, pleased that everything had gone as they had requested. A smartly dressed Muggle waiter came in and greeted them, asking in French if they needed anything else, but Lucius dismissed him in a polite tone.
As soon as the Muggle left them alone, Lucius prudently cast a temporary Muggle repelling charm on the outside of the door to assure privacy for the upcoming meeting. Then he walked back into the middle of the room and took up a position slightly to the right and in front of the Dark Lord.
Both whipped out their wands and voicelessly cast an array of scanning spells, such as Homenum Revelio, around the room, speedily checking for any hidden persons, animals, Animagni, monitoring charms or listening devices.
Lucius also cast a few charms to check the water bottles and glasses standing on the table for common poisons. He found nothing suspicious, which was good.
“All clear,” Lucius remarked quietly.
Voldemort nodded almost imperceptibly, concentrating on the closed wooden door and the hallway beyond, stretching out his senses to pick up the slightest indication that another magical person was entering the hotel entrance hall, hallway, or the floor above or below them. At the same time, he took care to continue cloaking the presence of his own, immensely powerful magical aura.
While Voldemort and Lucius stayed close to each other facing the door, Harry and Draco moved around the room, trying to quell their nerves. They looked out of the large bay window onto a grand place with a fountain and statues. There were a few tourists from Asia walking by, but Harry couldn’t tell if they were Japanese, Chinese or Korean. Again, he promised himself to go travelling next hear, or the year after, so that he would know the difference.
The two boys went back to stand to the left of Voldemort. They positioned themselves with a little bit of distance to each other; Harry closer than Draco next to the Dark Lord. All four of them were standing visibly tall, proud and straight, but flexible in the knees, so that each of them would be able to instantly fall into a defensive position, guarding each other’s backs should the worst happen; something they all clearly hoped would not.
Harry concentrated on breathing steadily, calmly in and out, to centre himself like the others did. He had understood Voldemort’s earlier order, but he knew he would disobey. Should any attack happen, he would instantly bring up a large, powerful shield to cover all of them. He would not Portkey away if he wasn’t a hundred per cent sure that Draco was OK and able to use his Portkey too.
None of the British wizards spoke. They had gone over all their plans and eventualities often enough. They could only wait.
Finally, Voldemort whispered. “They are coming.”
A few seconds later, they could all see the door handle moving down.
“Good evening my Lord, Mr Malfoy. Hello Harry, Draco!” rang out the clear tenor as the redhead walked inside, holding the heavy door open for the wizard following him.
Five minutes past the appointed time, Bill Weasley and Monsieur Delacour had arrived.
Neither Voldemort nor Lucius were annoyed as they knew it was a French custom; better to be a little late than to come before the appointed time. However, both wizards were not alone. They were accompanied by two other men; the older, a tall and broad shouldered, blond, self-confident man, and the younger one slender, olive-skinned and dark haired—he walked at the rear of the little group, visibly nervous.
The four new arrivals came to a stop four paces away from the waiting British wizards. The blond gave off the impression of a trained fighter, moving smoothly, efficiently, scanning the room and its inhabitants quickly for any threat. His right hand seemed to be just itching to draw out his wand. The cut and the slight golden embellishment of his form fitting, no nonsense dark blue, dragon hide battle robe told Lucius and Voldemort that he was a high ranking French Auror.
Neither Voldemort nor Lucius was surprised by the Auror’s presence. They knew that they would want to check and make sure Harry wasn’t under the Imperius, or Compulsion charms or clear of any other control.
Bill stepped forward and at the same time to the side, figuratively opening up the way between the two groups.
“My Lord, gentlemen,” he said formally with a short, curt bow, “may I present to you Monsieur Marcellin Delacour, the Undersecretary from the French Department of International Magical Cooperation. He is accompanied by Auror Roger LeBlanc. Monsieur LeBlanc is here as a representative of the French DMLE. And this is Artiste Géroux,” he indicated the younger, dark-haired wizard. “Monsieur Géroux is the junior assistant to Monsieur Beauchene, the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation.”
The French were clearly nervous, holding their distance in a way that was unusual for them. They inclined their heads in greeting, but none of them tried to step closer and shake hands with Lucius, Voldemort or one of the boys. Their eyes flittered warily back and forth over the four British wizards, taking in their looks, demeanour and clothes.
“Monsieur Delacour, Mister Weasley, Auror LeBlanc, Monsieur Géroux, a pleasure to meet you. My name is Lucius Malfoy,” Lucius replied with a thin smile, “Allow me to introduce the Dark Lord of Britain, Lord Voldemort,” with these words, he turned a bit sidewise, presenting Voldemort with an elegant gesture, “and Harry Potter.” He nodded towards Delacour and the Auror, ignoring the younger, dark-haired man for now, who had come to a stop slightly behind and to the side of Delacour in a mirror stance of Harry and Draco.
At last, Lucius looked over to Draco. “And this is my son, Draco Malfoy.”
At both Harry and Voldemort’s names, the tension in the room went up just a bit more, and additionally, a fleeting impression of disbelieving surprise flashed over the faces of the French. It was as if they couldn’t believe they were truly in the presence of the infamous He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.
Someone who, according to Dumbledore, was some kind of abnormally tall, skeletal thin, white skinned, red-eyed, inhuman, half-snake-half-demon being, immensely powerful, but corrupted and completely insane and evil.
They certainly hadn’t expected a tall, dark, handsome wizard in the prime of life, who stood perfectly calm and poised next to two good looking, politely smiling younger men. He radiated a dark, oppressive magical power all right, which he obviously cloaked expertly; his eyes were an eerie colour, brown and crimson, but Lord Voldemort didn’t appear especially menacing or aggressive to them.
And right next to him stood the famous Boy-Who-Lived, who appeared much more grownup than the pictures they had seen of him so far, or how Monsieur Delacour remembered Harry Potter from the Tri-Wizard Tournament. The glasses were missing, the jet black hair was longer, and they could only vaguely make out the form of the infamous lightening bold shaped scar on his forehead, not that they were as rude as to stare overtly at him. That young man was powerful in his own right; they could literally feel his presence next to the Dark Lord.
The four British wizards looked so stunning!
Light and dark stood next to each other; a symphony of complementing colours. The deep green of the ancient forests of the old times intermingled with silver and gold, black, light and charcoal grey, set off perfectly by twice black in the middle and platinum blond hair on the outsides of the quartet.
Voldemort and Harry nodded towards the others, but otherwise stood perfectly still, their hands open at their sides, clearly visibly unarmed. Draco copied this slight nod when his father said his name.
The men all nodded their heads at each other and exchanged the usual greeting formulas (“nice/pleased to meet you”, “how do you do?” to which the response was, “I’m fine, thank you, how are you?” or something similar) but they didn’t say anything further, each grasping around in his head what best to say to overcome the awkwardness and mistrust palpable between them.
LeBlanc was the Head of Security, responsible for the safety of the Minister and the Heads of the various Departments of the French Ministry for Magic. Louvel Beauchene had insisted that LeBlanc accompany Messieurs Delacour and Géroux, to evaluate the possible threat and to protect the other two as a bodyguard.
To stand suddenly in front of the British Dark Lord, a wizard rumoured to be responsible for hundreds or probably thousands of violent deaths during the period between 1970 and 1981; a wizard that was acclaimed and feared because he had delved deeply into the Dark Arts, was a bit much for LeBlanc, Delacour and especially young Géroux, despite all the reassuring talks that Bill had done to prepare Delacour for this encounter.
Before someone could comment on the beautiful French weather in comparison to the supposedly dismal British weather (which the British wizards would have most likely vehemently denied out of stubborn patriotic pride) Harry decided to break rank and simply do something in typical Harry Potter fashion, diplomatic protocols be damned.
Hoping to break the tension, he walked over to Bill. “So, Luna’s prediction.”
Bill laughed, “Yeah…I admit I was surprised, but, she was right.” A proud smile came on his face, “I asked her to marry me and she said yes.”
“What?” Harry laughed as he hugged Bill. “Congratulations.”
Everybody watched them. Marcellin Delacour smiled at Bill and Harry, whereas LeBlanc kept his focus on evaluating Lord Voldemort an Lucius Malfoy, clearly not believing them to be harmless or trustworthy at all.
“Gentlemen,” Voldemort spoke up, cutting off Bill and Harry’s celebration and drawing everyone’s attention. “If it will appease you, I would be willing to swear a vow for the duration of the weekend to not harm or betray anyone.”
The men exchanged looks. The French side was stunned that the Dark Lord would willingly do something like that. They still expected him to start threatening or blackmailing them any minute.
After glances full of unspoken communication between LeBlanc and Delacour, they nodded in agreement. “That is acceptable.”
So, after some deliberation to get the wording right, the vow was cast. All eight wizards took the Vow of Truce, swearing not to harm or betray each other and to not disclose each other’s secrets to any third party not present in this room, or at the dinner at the Delacour Manoir without explicit consent of the other.
Harry turned to the Auror, “Monsieur LeBlanc, if you still have any misgivings on whether or not you’re being tricked, I’ll allow you to check me for any spells or curses.”
Assessing the intention and sincerity of the younger man, LeBlanc swept a scrutinizing look at Harry before he stepped up to the teen, waving his wand over him and murmuring incantations, checking him for any spells. He didn’t let on that he noticed out of the corner of his eye, just how warily not only the Boy-Who-Lived, but both Malfoys and also the Dark Lord, watched his every move. The dark wizard radiated immense protectiveness and possessiveness, the same as the younger Malfoy. They looked as if they would kill him on the spot, should he try and harm Potter in any way.
Now that was interesting; interesting indeed. He made a mental note to watch them over the course of the evening and the next two days. Just what kind of relationship did the famous Harry Potter have with the Dark Lord and the Malfoys?
“He is clean,” LeBlanc said after a moment, stepping back from Harry.
“Now that that is out of the way,” Marcellin stepped forward, “We can head to dinner at my family home.”
He held out a blue and yellow silken scarf that he had formerly carried in his robes’ pocket. Everyone stepped close, each of them grabbing the Portkey. With a whispered word, they disappeared.

A/N 2: so how did you guys like it? Review and let us know. Next part will be up soon
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Rise of the Dark Angel