Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Harry Potter and the Secrets of Magic	By : Jacenthedarkknight Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 39602 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 7
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter trademark/fandom, nor am I making any money from this story

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or related characters or concepts. Not making money off this story, simply writing for both my enjoyment and hopefully the enjoyment of my readers.

A/N:Hello again y’all. Glad to see the positive reception my first chapter received, and thank you kindly for the great reviews! Anyway, hope you enjoy, read and review!

Chapter 2

Little Whinging – Near Midnight – June 14, 1996

          Gabrielle heard the soft bang-thump of the Knight Bus snapping back behind its wards as it took off. She leaned down to grab her bag from where the conductor had placed it, and quickly shouldered it as she looked around the streets of identical houses that filled the neighborhood of Little Whinging.

          She shook her head as she looked at lawn after manicured lawn – many of the houses even had the same model of automobile outside, some even identical colors. She simply couldn’t imagine living in a place like this where conformity ruled, and everything seemingly needed to be perfect.

          Pushing that thought aside, she realized that the vague information Fleur had been able to collect on her Mate’s whereabouts was correct – she felt him now, nothing at all like the Bond had felt when she was thousands of miles away. It was as if she had been in some sort of protective suit the last year, which had deadened her senses, and now it was removed.

          She could feel the pure power of the link pouring into her, and it was almost frightening just how strong the link was up this close. She straightened confidently, and looked down inward at the Bond, and began following the thick rope of magic only visible to her eyes, knowing it would lead her to him.

          She had to check herself several times, to avoid running into fences as she focused on the Bond, keeping her wits about her just enough to make sure she followed the roads toward the other end of the Bond, rather than trying to make shortcuts of her own through the yards of Little Whinging.

          She found that the Knight Bus seemed to have deposited her in the center of the suburb – she was almost certain it had been as close to the exact center as possible, given the vague ‘address’ she’d given, magic like that tended to work that way.

          As a result she was forced to walk several miles as she followed the Bond, as it seemed he lived in the southwest reaches of the town. She eventually passed a small, broken-down looking park, when she felt the pull become stronger, and she found herself walking faster, as if pulled to it like a moth to a light.

          She forced herself to slow down several streets later when she saw the large tendril of magic stretch out away from her and up toward a bedroom window in a house up ahead of her.

          Gabrielle forced her sight away from it and slowly made her way down the sidewalk, deliberately paying no attention to the house. As she did so, she focused instead on her Veela senses. It didn’t take long to single out the road in front of her and ignore the feedback she was getting from so many people – although the rather amorous couple in the house across the road made it slightly difficult.

          She didn’t really know how to explain her senses, not in words that made sense. She’d tried for quite some time with her father, but it was like trying to explain sight to someone born blind. It just…. was. The best she’d been able to explain to him was something like a mix between smell, vision, and aura sensing.

          She found what she was looking for, sitting on the manicured lawn in front of the house. She couldn’t see the man with her eyes, likely he was under a Disillusionment Charm or an Invisibility Cloak. That didn’t matter as she could sense him, as well as ‘smell’ his hormones wafting from him – to her distaste.

          She didn’t want to know what was going on under whatever was hiding him. Since he was already in a bit of a state, she decided to simply release her Allure. She hesitantly lifted the restraints she’d learned to form on it, and let it flow with less restraint.

          She shook her head when she watched the waves of magical energy flow out and wind themselves around him. She watched as her senses showed him turn red in her sight, a color that indicated he was totally in her thrall. The Allure wasn’t like an Imperius curse, but rather lowered ones inhibitions and worked on their attractions – if completely in the thrall of an Allure, the person would do anything they were asked so long as it was something they were already willing to do.

“This is the person they use to guard him? I expected some sort of challenge,” she muttered to herself.

          She made her way over to the man, who seemed to have fallen over under the Allure, the edge of an Invisibility cloak slipping off to reveal his straggly ginger colored hair.

          “Hello,” she said softly.

          She winced when she simply got a drooling groan as a response, hoping she hadn’t scrambled the man’s brain.

          “Is there a way to get into the house without using magic?”

          “Y-y-yeah,” he croaked out. “K-key, under th-the f-f-first stepping stone out b-back.”

          She rolled her eyes at his stuttering, nervous response. “You’ve done a wonderful job guarding young ‘Arry, but he doesn’t need your services tonight. So, you’re going to go out to a pub and celebrate, and forget all about this by tomorrow morning.”

          He nodded dumbly, staring at her with glazed-over eyes.

          She smiled at him, and made a shooing gesture with her hand. “Go on now, you’ve more than earned this – ‘ave fun for yourself.”

          The man smiled, stood up, and began shuffling off, almost mechanically folding up the Invisibility Cloak and stuffing it in his pocket before he Apparated with a sharp *CRACK* that sent a dog several houses down into a barking fit.

          She shook her head again, wondering how such a weak-minded individual could have been given approval by Dumbledore and his Order to watch Harry.

          Gabrielle straightened up and then checked her Veela senses once more to make sure there were no more hidden guards around the house. Satisfied there were none, she made her way up the drive, cutting through the grass to the fence at the side of the house where she had spotted a gate. She went onto the tips of her toes to stretch an arm over to the other side, and grasped blindly with her hand until she felt the cool metal of the latch, which she pulled to the side to unlock the gate.

          She swung it open and stepped into the small backyard, which looked to be just as neatly kept as the front, and then closed and locked the gate behind her. She found the small path of stepping stones that led from the back porch to a small shed and a greenhouse, and remembered she’d spotted a similar path out front along the hydrangeas that lined the mulched flowerbeds. She realized with a slight grin that this was a family that prided itself on appearances, and would likely have had a heart attack seeing her trample along in the grass as she had.

          Gabrielle knelt in the cool, dew-covered grass next to the first of the white stepping stones, and placed her hands on either side of the dinner plate-sized white stone, managing to slip some fingers underneath. She gave it a pull, and the stone – much heavier than she’d expected – flipped over to reveal a brass-colored key pressed into the soil from the weight of the rock.

          She grabbed the key and then flipped the stepping stone back into its rightful place. She stood, brushing her hands briskly together to rid them of the dirt, and then walked the several remaining feet to the back door. The key slid in and turned smoothly, and she entered the house, remaining as silent as she could.

          She pocketed the key, deciding it might come in handy later and it was unlikely its absence would be noticed. She glanced around the clean kitchen unlit and in shadows, the half moon not visible in the cloudy night sky to provide any light.

          She crept through the room, noting a television set near the table, and entered the living room. The neat, cleaned, un-lived-in look there as well, confirming her suspicions of the Dursleys.

          Gabrielle felt a sudden tug on her Bond, a sensation of resigned fear and sorrow, and she quickened her pace as she walked through the room and up the stairs. She stopped once when one of the stairs creaked loudly, and waited until she was sure she could still hear the loud, droning, almost walrus-like sounds of snoring echoing from the hall upstairs before she moved again.

          She glanced back into the Bond once more and followed it as it pulled her toward a door at the end of the hall, past several other doors where the snoring sounds were emanating.

          As she reached the door she saw a series of deadbolts and chain locks on it that looked as if they had seen use in the past, as well as what looked like a small doggy-door, or cat-flap.

          She hissed out a breath through clenched teeth. Here was arguably one of the most powerful wizards, and certainly one of the most famous, and these…. These Muggles caged him like a dog?

‘They have no right!’ she thought furiously. Her father had mentioned the possibility his Muggle relatives had treated him unkindly as he grew up, but hearing it and seeing it were entirely different things.

Her fingers twitched near her wand. For a moment she was about to turn around, go into each of their rooms and hex them until they begged for mercy, but she felt the same tug on the bond once more, and instantly brought her hand up to the doorknob – she could deal with them later, her Mate needed her.

She turned the doorknob and opened the door slowly, hoping she wouldn’t startle him, and breathed out a soft sigh when the door opened fully, revealing he was asleep on his bed. She closed the door behind her and let her eyes run over him.

His sheets had been kicked aside, and he was lying curled inward on himself, knees pulled up to his chest, wearing only his boxers, she realized with a slight blush. Any thoughts of ogling him like that went out the window when she saw his sweaty mess of black hair clinging to his face as he shook his head, muttering something to himself, obviously dreaming.

He twisted around and onto his back, and she saw his hands tighten into fists and felt anger and fear pulse across the link – not just dreaming, having a nightmare. “No, Sirius! Please don’t…” he muttered, his teeth clacking together as his jaw clenched.

          Gabrielle dropped her bag to the floor and rushed across the room, perching herself on the bed next to him as she reached out with her hand to push back his sweat-soaked hair.

          As her fingertips met the warm skin of his forehead, she gasped - simply touching him felt electric. She wasn’t sure if it was finally being in contact with her Mate, or his strong magic interacting with hers, or both; but she quickly flattened her palm out across the skin of his forehead, relishing the tingling contact as she brushed the raven-colored hair from his forehead and whispered soothingly to him.

          He stilled somewhat at her touch, and his eyes cracked open sleepily moments later.

          “It’s alright, ‘Arry, you’re safe. Go back to sleep, I’ll keep your dreams safe,” she said gently.

          His eyes slid shut slowly, a relaxed smile appearing on his face.

          It was because of that, that his reaction several long moments later when his brain processed that what had just happened was not a dream, caught her completely by surprise.

          He sprang up from his bed with a soft cry, and she fell from her already precarious position half-sitting on the edge of the bed, and landed firmly on her backside. Harry rolled the other direction and off the bed, landing with a hard thump on one knee, as he grabbed his wand from its place hidden under the bed.

          He jabbed the wand in her direction as she shakily stood. She could feel his magical power roiling off of him, and saw the end of the wand begin to glow with pent-up magic. “Who the bloody hell are you?” He asked, his voice low enough to not wake the Dursleys.

          She smiled softly. “Oh, ‘Arry, ‘ave you rescued so many young girls in your life that you cannot remember our names?” She asked, amusement clear in her voice.

          Harry squinted. The voice was young and feminine, a slightly French accent audible, but certainly not thick like Fleur’s, and besides, he hadn’t rescued Fleur, only – “Gabrielle?” He asked softly, keeping his wand trained on her as he snatched his glasses from the nightstand.

          “Oui,” she said as he slid his glasses on.

          His eyes widened as he looked at the young woman in front of him. She was certainly not the little girl he’d pulled from the lake. She was… stunning. Tight jeans and a t-shirt that hugged her, showed off some rather pronounced curves –they definitely weren’t the typical features of a young child. She’d gotten taller as well - the top of her head would likely reach his nose height-wise – and her silver-blond hair was cut at her shoulders rather than waist-length.

It was her face that made him realize she was who she claimed. It was much the same - her soft powder blue eyes looking at him gently, her lips upturned in a grin, albeit much fuller than he’d remembered; but except for her features being more feminine, more mature, he could still see the Gabrielle he remembered from the Tournament.

His wand wavered slightly, and the light at the end disappeared. “Gabrielle… you look… you’ve grown up a lot,” he said awkwardly.

She smiled mysteriously, revealing her perfectly white teeth. “So ‘ave you,” she said looking over him with an intensity that made him somewhat nervous.

That was when he glanced down and realized he was wearing only his boxers. He blushed brightly, and lowered his wand for enough time to quickly grab a t-shirt off the floor and pull it over his head.

Gabrielle seemed to pout prettily when the shirt settled across his chest and he brought his wand back up to focus on her. “I’m sure you thought I was quite young, ‘Arry, but the Second Task was only a few days before I turned treize – thirteen years old, and now I ‘ave been fourteen for four months. Veela ‘ave… an interesting childhood and… what is the word? …Puberty”

Harry’s eyes widened at that – he’d have figured her to be eight or nine when he’d seen her in the Lake and afterward when she and Fleur thanked him. “I guess so,” he said softly, his mind racing as he tried to figure out what possible reason she had for being in the room while also trying to wrap itself around the concept of Veela puberty.   “Um, not that I don’t mind the company, but – why exactly are you here, in my room?”

          She sighed softly. “I thought you might not realize it, when you did not respond to me.”

          “My Owl Post is being intercepted,” he said in explanation to what he thought she meant.

          She laughed softly, the melodic sound echoing through the quiet, dark room. “No, not Owl Post. I will explain everything…. But perhaps we can sit on your bed? It seems silly to keep standing ‘ere staring at each other from across the room.”

          Harry hesitated slightly. “Give me your wand,” he finally said, deciding he felt safe enough if he at least had that from her, in case she was Polyjuiced or something – though for the life of him he couldn’t think of why someone would Polyjuice themselves as a girl he barely knew just to get to him.

          Gabrielle reached down to her pants pocket and pulled her wand out without the slightest hesitation and turned it lengthwise to rest in both palms, which she held out toward him, her head bowed almost submissively.

          He moved forward and took it from her hands and then nodded, and sat down at the head of the bed with a wand palmed in each hand carefully keeping them out of her reach. She clambered onto the foot of the bed, and sat facing him, her knees almost touching his.

          “So,” he said uncertainly, acutely aware now that he was alone in his room at night, sitting on his bed with a rather gorgeous girl who was only about a year younger than him and could pass herself off as a girl in his own Year without any effort.

          “I suppose the best place to start is at the beginning, non?” She said quietly, her eyes focusing intently on his face.

          Harry nodded hesitantly. “I guess so, but you’re the one that knows what you’ve got to say,” he said with a wry grin.

          “Indeed,” she said, one corner of her mouth twitching upward in her own lopsided smile.

          She took a deep breath. “I think it’s best to start there – it began at the Triwizard tournament. Only the last two years of students were allowed to go to ‘ogwarts and stay for the entire Tournament. Younger children like me were only able to attend the Tasks, and only with our parent’s approval. I was lucky because Fleur was competing, so my parents wanted to go, and brought me with them.”

          “I was so ‘appy. I not only got to see my sister compete in this famous Tournament, I also got the chance to see the Boy-Who-Lived in person.” She held up a hand when he wrinkled his nose and scowled at that. “Please do not blame me, I was a silly little girl who grew up on stories of the courageous defeater of one of the most powerful Dark Lords. I realized quickly when I saw you face the dragon that you were not some… larger-than-life figure, you were a boy – a very powerful and very brave boy, but still a boy not much older than I.”

          She shook her head. “I think that is when I started seeing you as ‘Arry Potter, not the Boy-Who-Lived. And then the Second Task… you saved my life-“

          He started to protest. “Not really, I found out afterwards everyone was really safe, the whole riddle was just to scare us into getting the task finished in time.”

          “That is where you are wrong, ‘Arry. Your ‘eadmaster came to me and my parents before the task and asked if I would like to ‘elp my sister. Of course I said yes, and my parents agreed when ‘e assured them I was safe. I was to be put into an enchanted sleep, and Fleur would rescue me.”

          Gabrielle’s eyes flashed. “Fleur ‘ad no idea what was under that Lake. No one did, except for those from ‘ogwarts. She did not even know I was ‘er prize until she ‘ad failed, and ‘eard from the announcer exactly what you and the others were facing. ‘ad we known, my parents would not ‘ave allowed either of us down there.”

          When Harry frowned, she continued. “Apparently, your ‘eadmaster, and the idiots setting up the challenge didn’t know of the ‘istory between the Veela and the Merpeople.”

          “What sort of history?” Harry asked, still in the dark as to what she was trying to explain.

          “Thousands of years ago,” Gabrielle started, “the Veela and Merpeople descended from Nymphs. The Merpeople came about through the Water Nymphs breeding with ‘umans, while the Veela through the Mountain Nymphs. For a long time there was peace among our peoples, and we even had an alliance with one another, ‘elping each other fight off our enemies.”

          “Then, about fifteen-hundred years ago, we came into conflict with an empire in Europe, ruled by men, who wanted our lands and wanted our women. We fought for nearly a decade on our own, and finally convinced the Merpeople to help us in a great battle near the Black Sea.”

          Harry was startled when she growled deep in her throat. “It was a trick. The Merpeople had made peace with the Men, and betrayed us, and our great army fell squeezed between the Men on the land and the Merpeople in the sea, and we were forced to surrender or die. The Merpeople had taught the Men of an Ancient Magic, and they used it that day to force the Veela there into slavery if they ‘ad been captured after being defeated in battle. They became little more than whores to be used for pleasure for the Men, with the Servitude Bond forced upon them. Only a few ‘undred of us lived elsewhere or managed to escape the battle and continue as Free Veela.”

          “Bloody hell,” Harry breathed.

          “The leader of the Veela was a great sorceress, but even she could not escape, and became the personal slave to their king. But on that day before the Ancient Magic took ‘er, she used the last of ‘er power to lay a curse on every one of the Merpeople for their treachery. It took their beauty, and replaced it with a ‘arsh look, like the fish they swam with.”

          Harry nodded slightly. He’d wondered about that – most of the stories he’d heard before coming to the magical world had Merpeople portrayed as handsome and beautiful men and women with fins for their bottom half of their body, but the Merpeople he’d encountered in the lake had been rather unattractive in appearance.

          “Since then, we ‘ave been at war with each other. Not directly always, we do try to avoid one another, but there ‘ave been several bloody battles, the most recent two ‘undred years ago in the Mediterranean. So, they ‘ave lived in jealousy of our beauty for all these years, and we ‘ave lived largely in slavery. My family is fortunately from those that managed to remain Free Veela.”

          “There’s still Veela in this Servitude thing?” Harry asked, his expression darkening – in many ways it was even worse than the House Elf situation.

          Gabrielle nodded. “Oui. The empire that enslaved them became the country of Bulgaria, with a few pockets of enslaved Veela elsewhere. Their descendents were bonded from birth to the same life as their parents.”

          Harry’s eyes widened. “So, all those Veela at the World Cup?”

          Gabrielle grimaced. “Oui, they are used publicly as ‘cheerleaders’. These days the Ministry in Bulgaria does not want it widely known that they are essentially sex-slaves in private.”

          Harry shook his head. “Sounds like Britain isn’t the only country with a horrible Ministry. So, when you said I saved you life, you-“

          She nodded. “You really did. The Merpeople sent their pets, the Grindylows, to keep Fleur from reaching me. I suspect if they ‘ad been able to they would ‘ave killed her. But with ‘er out of the way at least, once everyone was gone, they were probably planning an ‘accident’ for me before anyone came to save me. They did not count on my savior, though,” she said with a warm smile.

          “They really didn’t want me to take you… they sent those Grindylows at the end after me,” he muttered, realizing that the long-fingered creatures had gone selectively after Fleur, and only went after someone else – him – when he was bringing Gabrielle to the surface. He also remembered Hermione telling him that the Merpeople kept them as a sort of pet or ‘guard dog’.

          “The enchanted sleep they put us under, was not a real sleep, it just mimicked it. We could ‘ear what was ‘appening around us. At first I thought it was a dream, I felt weightless, just floating. Then I thought it a nightmare when I heard the Merpeople speaking, but I remembered agreeing to help Fleur and I realized it was really happening, I – “

          Gabrielle shivered, wrapping her arms around her midsection. Harry looked at her with concern, and reached out to rest his hand on her knee, unsure what else to do.

          She shot him a grateful look. “I was convinced I was going to die, that I would never see Fleur, or Maman, or Papa again, especially when I ‘eard the Merpeople start to argue. And then I was rising through the water, and when I opened my eyes I was floating next to your friend, and I found out that you ‘ad saved me.”

          “Fleur was a mess, I think she was crying more than I was when they pulled me out onto the dock. But by then the only thing I was thinking about was you, and ‘ow you saved me when you didn’t ‘ave to – I realized that that was the real you, not the stories written in the books or in the newspaper by that wretched Skeeter woman.” She smiled softly, and moved her arm to let her hand rest atop his on her knee.

          He swallowed audibly, and forced himself to tear his eyes away from her slender jean-encased leg where their hands were now joined, and back up to her face. “Obviously this has something to do with why you’re here,” he began.

          Gabrielle nodded to him. “I wanted you to know what really happened there, and why you saving me was so important to me, because you literally did save my life. I wanted you to understand before I told you what happened after that moment, when I came over after Fleur, and kissed your cheek.”

          She took a deep breath. “’Ave you ever ‘eard of a Veela Mate Bond?”

          He shook his head. “I take it that’s different than that enslaving thing you mentioned?”

          “It is, but in a way it is similar. Both are enforced by magic. But a Veela Mate Bond is something the Veela herself can choose. It forms a bond of magic between a Veela and her Mate, a very strong bond.”

          Harry’s eyes widened as things clicked together in his mind. “W-we, you’re here to tell me we have one? When you kissed my cheek?”

          Gabrielle smiled, pleased that he seemed to be getting it. “Oui. It was accidental, consciously at least, but it ‘appened.”

          “So, you’re here to tell me how to break it? Stop it from linking us together? How do we do that?”

          Gabrielle paled, her mouth opening in shock as she seemed to shrink back into herself. This certainly wasn’t what she’d been expecting – did he really want to be free of her? She’d never once given that consideration, thinking he’d be happy with it even if he hadn’t known about it and had her explain it.

          “H-Harry, please do not break it… not yet… not until you ‘ave ‘eard me through. It would… be very painful for me,” she lied. “Please, listen to everything and take your time to think about this. If you still want to break it tomorrow…. I will show you ‘ow,” she said, not meeting his eyes.

          In reality, the bond breaking would be beyond just painful – it would be devastating to her. Her magic would be stripped and incorporated into his magical core, and she’d lose the will to live. She would stop eating, drinking, and eventually moving, and just find a place to sit until her body died. It was the price of her magic, of such a Bond, to ensure the Veela considered their Mate carefully and ensured the Mate’s own consent by allowing them an ‘out’.

          She couldn’t tell him that – couldn’t force him to accept her, because she knew if he was aware of the true effects it would have on her, he’d sacrifice his own happiness to save her life. She didn’t want him to do that – she wanted him to willingly accept her – nor did she want him to resent her the rest of his life. If he did reject her, she’d show him how to break the Bond and then leave for home and remain there until she died and make sure he’d never find out what had happened.

          He was surprised at her reaction, especially when he saw a glimmer of tears in her eyes. He squeezed her knee where his hand still rested – for some reason he just couldn’t come up with a reason to move it.

          “Okay,” he said quietly. “I-I guess I misunderstood. I thought you came to get me to break it. You know more about it than I do, and I just thought-“ he shrugged. “I’ll let you explain it, and then we’ll decide together, okay?”

          He heard her breathe a soft sigh of relief, and she managed to look up at him. “Okay. Merci.”

          “This bond – it’s not like the whole Veela charm thing, is it? I’m not being hypnotized or whatever it is, am I?” He asked suddenly as the thought popped into his head.

          She shook her head firmly. “Non, ‘Arry. I could turn on my full Allure right now, and you would not feel a thing. The Bond neutralizes that. It is made purely of magic. I… cared for you, and I think your magic felt that. When I kissed your cheek, it was like being pulled by a magnet.”

          “So I… my magic did it?” Harry asked, looking uneasy at her description.

          “Subconsciously your mind let your magic do it, I think. But mine did too, so you did not force it if that is what you are worried about, ‘Arry.”

          Harry ran a hand through his still-sweaty hair and nodded, looking relieved. “So, what’s this Bond do?”

          She smiled, glad to be back more on the sort of discussion territory she’d prepared for. “It links us together, ‘Arry. We ‘ave a strong bond with this. I’ll admit I get a bit more of the benefit…. a power boost to my magic mostly, but you get a slight one as well. Emotions can be sent down the bond – with practice you can sense the emotions of the Bond Mate. I’m sure you’ve felt me even if you don’t realize it.”

          Harry frowned in thought for a moment, before his eyes widened. “When I’m angry!” He said suddenly. “I’ve been able to control my anger a lot better, and it’s felt like I get… calm… really quickly. I thought I was just making progress in controlling it,” he said, somewhat disappointed.

          “Oh no, ‘Arry, you ‘ave done admirably. All I can do is send you feelings of calm and relaxation – it is your mind that ‘as to accept them and use them to counter your anger. I ‘ave just given you… a nudge. It is the same when you are sad,” she said quietly.

          He averted his gaze from her when she mentioned the sadness he’d been feeling this summer – such deep sadness that his chest would ache as if his heart had broken apart inside him.

She took note and didn’t continue – she knew from Fleur what had happened, and didn’t want to push him on this.

*****

Harry was quiet for several long minutes, grateful that she didn’t continue to press that particular subject.

“Thanks. For helping, I mean.” He finally managed.

          “De rien,” she said kindly. “There is more I think I can do, as well, ‘Arry. You ‘ave a strong magic in you. I think you could be one of the most powerful wizards on the planet.” He started to protest, but she continued. “It’s true, ‘Arry. I can feel it – I felt it back then when I was only just developing as a Veela. You ‘ave a special kind of power. Fleur felt it as well, and my Maman felt it without ever coming near you. She’s the one that explained it to me, and I would like to do the same for you.”

          Harry looked at her curiously, and then nodded, and she continued.

          “Veela are often seen as experts in Love and similar emotions like devotion, mainly because we can manipulate those emotions. They are strong emotions, and ‘ave a certain power within Magic. A Patronus Charm, for example, can drive away the darkest of beings, and it is powered by ‘appiness and Love. Some of the most powerful magic is Love Magic.”

          She sighed. “We are not really experts - this is such a mysterious and ancient power that I do not think anyone could really be considered that - but we do know much more than most wizards, and we can affect those emotions in people. But it is really witches and wizards who can ’ave the true power over this. It is rare, but when it happens, the wizard or witch can become… immensément…. I don’t know your word for it… uhh, very powerful,” she said after struggling over the word.

“King Solomon was a great wizard,” she continued, “and as you know, Solomon ‘ad ‘undreds of wives and concubines, and many loyal soldiers. ‘e knew about this power and used it to ‘is advantage – it is said ‘e could even use this power to bind and control the most evil spirits and even demons. Helen of Troy was another, but it is believed she was untrained, and didn’t understand ‘er powers, and became the ‘face that launched a thousand ships’, and the main cause of the Trojan Wars. ‘er problem was that she was loved by men from very different cultures who chose to go to war over it.”

She smiled. “There are others - even your ‘eadmaster is somewhat proficient at it and ‘as some very loyal followers, but ‘is magic is weak in that regard, not even close to equal to a Veela – he can inspire trust and some devotion with it, but that is all.”

“But you are so strong that it frightened my Maman greatly when she first felt it. You ‘ave this power based in Love, and you don’t even realize it. I can ‘elp you, teach you all I know, show you ’ow to use it,” she finished.

He watched her closely for a minute, mulling over what she had told him. She seemed to be spot on, at least so far as what Dumbledore had told him about his ‘power the dark lord knows not’. And as far as he could tell from her statements she didn’t seem to have been sent here by Dumbledore – if anything she was more cross at the man than he was, and for good reason given the Tournament.

On one hand, here she was, telling him they were bonded together as some sort of mates, which was a bit… well, both intriguing and unsettling. And yet she knew about this power, and was even offering to help him learn as much as he could about it – something he realized Dumbledore had not bothered to offer him that night in the Headmaster’s office or even last days of the school year after that night.

He had no contact with the outside world other than what Dumbledore and the Order decided to give him – so far nothing at all – but now he could have someone. There was no way he was going to say no to this, as long as he knew what this Bond entailed.

          He looked down at his lap, and finally awkwardly extracted his hand from where it was sandwiched between her hands and her knee. She was startled when he started blushing. “This Mate thing… that means we’re… y’know… supposed to mate or something?”

          He flinched slightly when she moved forward and grasped his chin in her soft hands and tugged his face up so he was looking into her eyes. “It means that we are ‘ighly compatible for that sort of thing, yes, and if… if you decide not to break the Bond, that could eventually ‘appen between us. But I will not force that on you. We can be friends, we can be life-long companions, even lovers,” she said, and saw his face flush further at that, “we can be anything that you are comfortable with.”

          He found himself almost getting lost as he stared into her bright blue eyes. He finally reached up and grabbed her hands and gently pulled them away. “Gabrielle, I… don’t know… I don’t know you, at all, really.”

          He hurried quickly when he saw her expression fall. “But, I’d like to. You seem like a great girl, and I’d love to get to know you. Let’s use this Bond to our advantage.” He scratched his head. “I’m not going to turn down your offer to help me – bloody hell, I can use all the help I can get right now with Voldemort after me.”

          Harry squeezed both her hands and then let them go. “Let’s become friends, and see where we go from there, okay?”

          She nodded quickly, relieved, and darted forward to kiss his cheek. “Thank you ‘Arry. I will ‘elp you in any way I can.”

          Harry yawned, and she followed suit quickly after. “I’m sorry, I’m pretty knackered. D’you have a place you’re staying at, or….?” He trailed off, unsure of what she’d had planned.

          Gabrielle blushed slightly. “I ’ad… ‘oped I could stay ‘ere, if you did not mind. I can go to the Leaky Cauldron, though, if you wish.”

          Harry sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I don’t mind, but… the Dursleys – my uncle would kill me if-“

          Her expression darkened, the look in her eyes almost animal. “Let me take care of them,” she said firmly.

          “Okay,” he said dubiously, wondering if she knew just what she was getting into. “You can stay here for tonight at least anyways.”

          Harry grabbed one of the two small pillows he’d managed to scrounge from the Dursleys, tossed it to the floor against the nightstand, and started to sit down on the hard wooden floor.

          When he looked up, he saw Gabrielle looking at him oddly with a confused expression on her face.

          “Ah, ‘Arry? What are you doing?” She asked him gently.

          “Going to sleep?” He said hesitantly. “You can have the bed, I’m not going to make you sleep on the floor….”

          Gabrielle shook her head. “No need for that, ‘Arry, sleep with me on the bed, I will not make you sleep on the floor either,” she said, patting the bed beside her.

          He just blushed and stared at her slack-jawed.

          She smiled warmly, and got off the bed to lean down and grab his hand and pull him over to the bed. “Relax, ‘Arry, just sleeping. We are becoming friends first, oui?”

          He nodded, his face still bright red, but let her push him down onto the bed and hand him the pillow.

          She walked around to the other side, and lay down next to him. “It will be fine, I promise to behave. I don’t bite… unless you would like me to,” she said and looked over at him with a grin.

          Harry finally laid back on his side of the small bed, trying to ignore the warm body next to him, the soft arm pressing against his side. For the longest time he lay there ramrod straight, but when he finally gathered up the courage to glance over at his companion, she’d already fallen asleep, a contented smile on her face which was turned toward him and almost pressing into his shoulder.

          He listened to her soft breathing – and tried to tear his eyes away from the rise and fall of her chest – for several long minutes. He finally had to close his eyes and pretend it was Hermione next to him – as she’d done plenty of times the last few years as she studied late into the night sitting next to him on the couches of Gryffindor common room – and not another girl he barely knew, before he finally was able to relax enough to start drifting off to sleep.

*************************************************************

Granger Residence - June 15, 1996

          Hermione Granger huffed out a frustrated breath and crumpled up the piece of parchment she’d begun to write on. She’d been trying for the last hour to write a letter to Harry that didn’t sound demanding, worried or pushy. She’d written him a letter – sometimes just a short note and others several parchments-worth – every other day since she’d seen him at King’s Cross Station walking glumly behind his whale of an Uncle. It had appeared to her that going home with Vernon, along with Sirius’ recent death, had finally done something she’d thought impossible – crushed Harry’s spirit.

After several weeks of writing to him, he still had not replied to her even with a simple “I’m alright, don’t worry.”

Now, she struggled to keep her letters from appearing as if she was angry at him – she was a bit peeved at the lack of response, but given the circumstances she understood his reluctance – and to keep it from appearing that she wanted to push him to talk about Sirius if he wasn’t ready.

A tear ran down her cheek and she swiped it away in annoyance. Seeing Harry once she’d been released from the hospital wing had solidified in her mind how she felt about him. She’d had a slight crush since Third Year – she’d first noticed it after their night alone together with the timeturner and their flight on Buckbeak – and it had grown, but she kept it hidden when Harry was crushing on Cho and later dated her.

She’d briefly considered her other friend, Ron, romantically but had felt that to be the easy choice – as much as a relationship filled with argument could be termed ‘easy’ – but not the right choice. She and Ron were so different that she didn’t think it could have ever worked between them. She rolled her eyes slightly as images of them arguing at their wedding flashed through her mind. That wasn’t the sort of relationship she wanted.

With Harry, though, it was different. Seeing him wandering around Hogwarts, morose and mourning, pulled at her heart. But it was his eyes that had made her come to her full realization. One of Harry’s greatest attributes, one of the things that made him Harry, were his eyes. His eyes displayed to her what he was truly feeling, no matter what front he put up or expression he wore. It was the reason she’d not been hurt by his angry tirades the previous year – she could see in his eyes his caring and affection for his friends and that his anger was simply frustration at how he was being treated by Dumbledore, Umbridge, and Snape.

They conveyed his true emotions and always had a warmth – a glow – in them, whether it was a hot snapping fire when he was angry, or a bright warm light when he smiled in true happiness. The second was something she’d been privileged to see the few times he’d displayed it: in Third Year as they waited in the forest and Harry told her about Sirius offering him a home, and saw it once more only directed at her when he realized that she believed him about the Triwizard Tournament when no one else would.

When she’d left the Hospital wing, she’d finally seen his eyes after the Ministry, and what she saw broke her heart into pieces. His eyes were flat – a sickly green that somewhat frightened her because it had looked the color of the Killing Curse that “Moody” had shown them in their Fourth Year – and completely emotionless. It was as if Bellatrix, in killing Sirius, had ripped out his very soul. That was when she’d realized how deeply she’d fallen for her best friend – she would do anything just to take away his pain, and get rid of those dead-looking eyes that had replaced her Harry’s eyes.

She blushed at that thought – her Harry – and shook her head, hardly daring to think that might be her future. She re-inked her quill to try writing again, and pulled out a fresh piece of parchment.

Dear Harry,

I hope you are doing alright at your uncle’s house. If they aren’t treating you well, let me know and I’ll talk to Professor Lupin.

My summer has been terribly boring, as I’m sure you’ve gathered from what I’ve written in my other letters. I’ve nearly finished my Potions essay – I saved that one for last.

I do hope things are okay for you, I’ll try to make sure you get out of there as soon as possible, your birthday at the latest.

Please write!

Love,

Hermione

Hermione tapped the end of the quill to her chin, rereading what she had written. She finally sighed and rolled up the parchment, placing it near the window. It would have to do. Now she just had to wait for the post owl to arrive, and then bribe it with a few extra Sickles and some owl treats to carry her message before returning to the Daily Prophet.

Hermione stood up and backed away from her desk, smiling when Crookshanks jumped from his perch on the desk and padded over to the cushion of the window sofa, curling up to soak in the morning sunlight streaming through. Her nose crinkled at the sight of nearly a dozen crumpled parchments on the floor – all failed letters – and she bent over, picking them up and dropping them into her dustbin.

She winced when a stab of pain went through her chest as she picked up the last parchment. While painful, she was glad her body had reminded her she had not yet taken her healing potion for the day.

After Dolohov’s curse had hit her, she’d been taking two daily potions – one for the pain and one to promote healing. Madame Pomfrey had informed her that she would likely have a visible scar for the rest of her life, but had done the best she could to diminish its appearance. She’d also told her these twinges might occur from time to time – although with diminishing frequency – due to the damage done to her nerves where it had hit, and the difficulties potions had in repairing that type of delicate structure perfectly.

Hermione walked to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, and pulled out two potions, one red and the other a neon green in colour. She forced them down, each having a rather unpleasant taste, and then rinsed her mouth out with mouthwash – something almost as common as toothbrushes in her house, given her parents’ profession as dentists.

“Hermione, are you getting ready, love?” Her mother, Emma’s voice called from outside her door. “We have to leave in a half-an-hour if we want to get to service on time.”

Hermione’s eyes shot to the clock, and gasped. It was much later than she’d thought – their Church’s service was only an forty-five minutes away.

“I’m getting ready right now, mum!” She called through the door, and grabbed a skirt and top she’d laid out the night before and rushed into the bathroom.

She pulled off her nightgown, and paused, looking at the long mark that ran from near her collarbone at a diagonal down nearly to her bellybutton. While Dolohov’s curse hadn’t physically pierced her skin like a cutting curse or something similar would, it had wreaked havoc internally instead, causing a lot of damage to the blood vessels, tissue, and nerves directly beneath her skin.

As a result, she still had a sickly green-purple bruise, although it had lessened in the intensity of its color over the past several weeks, revealing a long discolored scar along the center of the bruising. If she hadn’t silenced Dolohov, it would have done its rupturing damage on more important things, like her lungs and her heart.

It was the flame properties of the curse that had left the real mark. Injuries from such cursed flames were notoriously hard to heal, and she’d always have this thin strip of slightly-discolored burned skin running the entire length of the injury.

Hermione grimaced and pulled on her skirt and then her dark blue blouse, and made sure it completely covered the mark from sight.

After several minutes of trying to tame her bushy hair, she gave up, settling for pulling it back into a ponytail. She put on a gold necklace her grandmother had given her, pulled on a set of low heels, and hurried out the door of her room – telling Crookshanks to behave himself while they were at church – and moved down the hall to the stairwell.

Her father, Thomas, was already at the table and dressed for church. He was reading the newspaper and absently stabbing at a sliced-up sausage on his breakfast plate. Her mother carried two plates over to the table and set one down for Hermione and then seated herself in front of the other.

“Good morning, honey,” Emma said when she caught sight of Hermione entering the room.

Her mother was wearing in a lavender coloured dress, her shoes off for her time in the kitchen. Hermione had inherited her bushy brown hair from her - although her mother kept hers cut to shoulder length to make it more manageable, while Hermione’s ran halfway down her back. Her brown eyes, however, had come from her father, as her mother had sparkling light blue eyes.

“Good morning Mum, morning Daddy.” Hermione said as she sat down and began to eat the sausage and eggs her mother had prepared.

Her father grunted a greeting from behind the paper, and Hermione smiled slightly in his direction. He was not an early-morning person, and didn’t really get into the day until after ten in the morning.

The trio ate silently for several minutes before Hermione finally set down her fork and looked at her parents.

“Mum, Dad, I was wondering if, well you know we were planning the day trip into London on Friday, if maybe we could stop by Harry’s house? He’s not that far from where we were going to go shopping, only a fifteen minute drive and I–“

Emma smiled. “Okay, honey.”

“R-really?” Hermione asked, surprised that her mother had agreed so quickly without even asking any questions.

Emma smirked and held out her hand to Thomas, who set down the paper and sighed. He pulled out his wallet and peeled out a twenty-pound note and put it in Emma’s hand.

She grinned at Hermione. “Yes, really. Your father didn’t think you’d ask to visit Harry, but I was sure you would.”

Thomas gave Hermione a mock glare, but it was softened by his smile.

“How – what?” Hermione asked, nearly speechless.

Emma laughed. “I bet your father you’d want to see Harry this summer before his birthday, especially after you told us about his godfather. We’ll pick him up Friday, perhaps after we’ve done some of the more boring shopping. If he wants maybe he can say the weekend in the guest bedroom.”

Hermione beamed, and leapt out of her seat, throwing her arms around her mother’s neck in a firm hug, and then her father’s neck. “Thank you, Mum, Daddy. I’ve been getting really worried about Harry, and anyway I think he’d really appreciate someone visiting him and getting some time away from his aunt and uncle.”

A slight frown creased Emma’s features. “Why are you so worried, honey?”

Hermione sighed, sitting back down in her seat. “He hasn’t written me at all, Mum.”

Emma’s frown deepened and she looked at her daughter in concern. “Still?”

Hermione nodded and looked down at her plate. “I think he’s hurting even more than I originally thought he would be. He’s with those awful relatives of his who won’t even care what he went through, which is probably making it even harder for him. And… I realized that he might be blaming himself for what happened to me….”

Emma’s eyes widened. “Why would he think that?” She asked.

She and her husband Thomas had been shocked and more than a little worried when Hermione came home with her injury, and told them everything that had happened. She’d been taming down events of the past three years – after her encounter with the basilisk – and they were surprised and scared for her safety when she finally told them the full story.

Thomas had immediately told her they were pulling her out of school, but was eventually calmed down by Emma, and after a much longer talk with their daughter, decided she’d be safest learning to defend herself at Hogwarts, with her friends. They’d reached the conclusion no parent ever wants to – their daughter, and her friends, could better defend her than they could against the threats that had crept into the world.

Hermione smiled wryly. “He’s Harry, mum. Even though I chose to go with him and fight, he’ll be blaming himself, and telling himself that he talked me into it and that I wouldn’t have done it otherwise. It might not make sense to you or me, but that’s how Harry is – he thinks everything is his fault.”

Hermione picked up her empty plate and rinsed it in the sink.

“Well, we’ll head over to Surrey on Friday then, maybe take him out to a museum and dinner in London.” Emma said.

          Hermione smiled, and Emma realized it had been a long time since she’d seen her daughter’s face light up like that.

A/N: Well, hope you enjoyed the chapter, and thanks for reading. Things will slowly begin to bring the three together, and thus far I forsee the next 5-10 chapters dealing with the summer and the first developments in their relationship before we get to Hogwarts.

          Next chap, The Dursleys meet an unhappy Veela, Harry and Gabby learn more about one another as well as begin training, and Harry gets a surprise visit from an Order member.

See you next week!
- 1
- 2
- 3
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Harry Potter and the Secrets of Magic