Heart and Soull

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"Our conversation may not have been to your satisfaction, but it was to mine," Apolline retorted. "If you think I will allow you to go into danger while I stay behind, you had better seriously revise your way of thinking."

"Apolline, please be reasonable—"

"No, Jean-Sebastian, I will not be reasonable. We are a family, and we will stay together as a family. We have taken a young man into our lives, and I mean to give him every bit of my support, as I know you intend to do yourself. That support does not entail staying behind in France. My place is with you."

"But Apolline, think about the danger—think about Gabrielle. It will be very difficult to do what must be done when I must constantly worry about you both."

"Then you should have thought about that before you decided to enact the marriage contract."

He started to speak again, but Apolline placed a finger over his mouth, compelling him to silence. He was a good man—the very best of men—but he sometimes had a tendency to treat her and their daughters as though they were made of porcelain. While she loved him for it, she was a fully trained witch, and she had her Veela abilities to fall back on if she was to run into any trouble.

"Jean-Sebastian, I will not stay behind, so you may as well save your breath. If things become too difficult, then we will send Gabrielle to live with her grandmother, but I will not leave your side. You do not need to treat me with kid gloves—I will be fine."

His long look was expressionless, but to one who knew him intimately, his struggle was evident.

"You will not give in on this matter, will you?"

"No."

He looked down and sighed before glancing back at her with a lopsided grin on his face.

"I thought as much. Whatever possessed me to marry such a strong-willed woman?"

The chuckle he received in response was amused. "Come now, Jean-Sebastian, you like me the way I am—admit it."

"I do—I just wish I could keep you out of danger."

"That you cannot do. Think of it this way—if this Voldemort takes over England, where do you think his next stop will be?"

"I have already considered this," he responded softly.

"Then you know that even France is not truly safe. In fact, I would be surprised if he does not already have agents here recruiting for his cause—certain members of our society can be as bigoted and short-sighted as those across the channel. You know this. In fact, I think Gabrielle and I are safer with you in England than we would be here."

Jean-Sebastian gave a resigned sigh and leaned over to kiss his wife on the cheek before rising. "There is still much to be done."

Apolline rose also and began to busy herself, sorting through Gabrielle's clothes. But before her husband left, she had one more thing to say.

"Jean-Sebastian, please do not bring this up again—I have made up my mind."

Pausing at the door, Jean-Sebastian glanced back at her and smiled. "I can see that you have. The subject is closed, and I will not speak of it again."

Satisfied, Apolline returned to her task as her husband left the room.

The rest of that Saturday afternoon was spent ensuring all the family's belongings were packed away and transported to their new home by the house-elves. This consisted primarily of clothes and personal effects, the furniture not being needed, except for a few items which were deemed necessary—including Jean-Sebastian's well-worn but comfortable office chair. It was Apolline's housekeeping which kept their transported belongings to a minimum, as she had spent the afternoon going through the family's clothes, putting aside old items to be discarded or donated and generally ensuring everything the family would need would be on hand. Of course, Harry's clothes, which had largely been purchased the previous day, were the easiest, as they were simply left in their bags, ready to be moved.

They were all touched a little by Sirius' melancholy—still considered a fugitive in the eyes of the British Ministry, he was to stay at Chateau Delacour to continue his recovery and await his trial, which had tentatively been scheduled for the middle of the following month. Still, although he was a little glum, Sirius roused himself to do a little teasing of his godson, promising to see him again at the trial and during the upcoming winter break.

The end result of the day's efforts was that the family arrived early that evening, stored their belongings in their chosen bedrooms, and sat down for the evening meal, tired but happy—at least in Harry's case—to be back in England.

It was at this point that Jean-Sebastian, having accomplished the welcoming of his new ward into the family and having moved his family to England, decided that it was time to follow up with his resolution to contact Dumbledore about the secret society of which he was the head.

He made his way to his office and made a Floo call—correctly deducing the Headmaster would be in his office at Hogwarts—asking for a quick meeting to discuss certain items of interest. Dumbledore readily assented, proposing they meet at Grimmauld Place to give Harry a chance to connect once again with his friends. It was done quickly, and a mere thirty minutes later, Jean-Sebastian was travelling through the Floo connection along with Harry and Fleur.

They stepped into the parlor, and Jean-Sebastian was gratified to see the greeting Harry received from his friends. He had heard much about Harry's friends over the past two days, particularly one Hermione Granger, who was at that very moment engulfing his new ward into a crushing embrace, much as she had done when they had arrived after the trial. It was good to know that Harry had a support group to rally around him—he suspected it would be needed in what was to come.

The only concern he had was fleeting and resolved quickly.

"Hey, guys," Harry began. "I'd like to introduce you all to my betrothed, Fleur Delacour."

The silence only lasted a moment before Hermione, visibly screwing herself up, stepped over and greeted the young French witch. "Hello, Fleur. My name is Hermione Granger. Welcome to Grimmauld Place."

Jean-Sebastian let out a relieved sigh, one which was echoed, he noticed, albeit in a much quieter fashion, by Fleur. His daughter returned the greeting hesitantly, but her smile was genuine and wide.

The twins approached Fleur, and each made bows, complete with elaborate flourishes, and smiled winning smiles at her.

"Any friend of Harry's is a friend of ours."

"She's his fiancée, George."

"I'm not George, I'm Fred! And I'd hope that she's his friend, too."

"His friend? Wouldn't you like to be her friend? And don't call yourself Fred when we both know I'm Fred."

"You're delusional. And of course I want to be her friend. Blokes like us look so much better when we have pretty friends."

"Shh… Don't say that too loud. You'll make little Harrikins angry for moving in on his girl."

"I'm not moving on his girl—just trying to make myself look better by basking in the light of her glory."

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