Disclaimer: You know, I think this is the one-thousandth disclaimer I've ever written. But then who's really counting? Still love lamp. Still not mine.

A/N: Well, a little sooner than planned this update. Thanks to everyone reviewing here and over at DLP. Got big plans for where this is headed, a lot of them fun and exciting to write about. Please read, please review, and join the Yahoo! group for my stories - link in the profile.

*~*~*~*

 

Harry Potter and the Wastelands of Time

Chapter 3 - Waking Up All Over Again

If you get up one more time than you fall,you will make it through.

--Chinese Proverb

I lay in my bed gazing up at the blue sky through the window, contemplating what had just happened and tapping my fingers thoughtfully against the thin mattress. After a moment I reached over to the bedside table and picked up my glasses.

The skin on the back of my hand, all the way up my arm, was swirling and stretching. I was definitely back at the beginning - where I'd only been an hour ago. And if my body was still adjusting then that meant the time-travel pain was on its way again all too soon.

I cursed, and fell out of bed onto my shaky legs, taking a deep breath and ignoring the swelling behind my eyes, the itching and the building pressure - all signs of the agony to come - and stumbled out of the room and over to the bathroom.

The green porcelain sink I'd pulled from the wall not one hour ago was whole and unbroken. I looked at myself in the mirror - still young, still new, and yet my flesh was moving faster and faster, not just flowing but racing across my body. It was unnerving.

And, as it turns out, the least of my worries.

My side and my chest were both itching like mad, and I pulled my pyjama top over my head to get a good look at the skin there, as the pressure began to edge towards painful behind my eyes.

“Aw, no way...” I whispered, gazing at the long, crescent-shaped scar over my heart. The skin was white and raw, as if recently healed. I was willing to bet the new scar matched the curve of the blade that had stabbed me only five minutes ago perfectly...

“Five minutes ago and one bloody hour from now,” I whispered. “What could do this...?”

Never - absolutely never - have I brought more than my soul and countless hazy memories back with me through time. I have no control over it, none at all - the deal was for another chance, to go back and try again. I should not have the new scar, because it belonged to a future that hadn't happened yet.

Time could not be manipulated this way! Not against me, not like this!

I had no more time to consider it, however - the pain of the Return had caught up with me. I had a few seconds to grab the hand towel and bite down hard before the world exploded in white-hot blinding fire that eclipsed all thought, all memory, all time.

I didn't pull the sink from the wall this time - I tore that bastard out, and both hot and cold water sprayed up against the Dursleys' tiles and wallpaper. I fell to my knees, and from my knees onto my back, bringing the basin with me.

I lay there twitching for awhile, tired and beaten. This should not have happened again so soon. I regretted that it had to happen at all. Not that I'd rather die and stay dead, but this was becoming... hard.

And each time now the pain was worse, so much worse. Each new time made the previous journey feel pleasant by comparison.

*~*~*~*

What do they call that feeling?

You know the one... that feeling you get where you're so certain that you've been here before, that all of this has already happened.

Déjà vu, isn't it?

Yes... I wish I had a suitable ironic comment about the absurdity of déjà vu.

I've kind of learned to block it out, if you know what I mean. I live in an almost constant state of déjà vu that more often than not it leaves my head spinning, and takes all the fun out of life. I mean I know, or can give a fairly good guess, concerning what's about to happen next - where's the fun in that?

Things are changing though, and not for the best...

I hate this war.

*~*~*~*

After a few minutes spent twitching on the floral floor mats in the bathroom I managed to gain my feet, and through the jets of water spraying up in front of the mirror I got a good look at myself.

My eyes were bleeding.

Twin rivers of blood had run down from both my eyes, like tear drops, cutting over my cheeks and over the corner of my lips. Well, that settled it, I was really angry now. And I looked frightening enough to back that anger up. Still, I dipped my hands into the jets of water and dabbed the blood away, wincing a little as my eyes were sore. I don't know why - maybe the strain of time-travel popped a few blood vessels or something - but they hurt like all hell.

I cleaned myself up as best I could. After all, I was due to speak with Tonks, apples and roses, in about twelve minutes. I took a deep breath, calmed my shaking nerves.

The creature that had killed me should not have been where it had been, and the wound it had given me, especially through the heart, should not have left a scar in the past... I was out of my depth here - most of this time-travelling business was beyond me. I could work it, survive the trip, but knowing exactly how it worked, what laws had to be obeyed and what laws could be broken... well I was in the dark there.

“It went for me specifically,” I mumbled, heading back across the landing to get dressed and on with the day, again. “It got Fleur too, but only because I was in the way...”

The man I had set on fire, that had been trying to kill Fleur, had been doing so for reasons completely unrelated to and, quite frankly, smaller than my newest concern.

“Damn it all,” I cursed, slipping on the same pair of jeans I had died in not so long ago, and in about half an hour from now.

Think, Harry, work this out... you've died in worse ways.

“But I've never kept the scars before.” I sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling on a pair of socks and my running shoes. In about a minute I'd go and 'borrow' Dudley's watch again, and then go and see Tonks. That was how things were supposed to work. The new scar on my chest felt raw and sore.

“Okay, figure it out... a bad guy, something very ugly, wanted you dead - and did a good job of that. Why? It knew you'd be in Diagon Alley when you were - was it watching you?”

All of this had something to do with time, with Time, of that I could be certain. I don't always remember everything when I'm brought back to this summer, after my fifth-year, but I would not have forgotten a creature such as the one that had shoved a sword through my heart and Fleur.

“Tempus fugit...” I whispered, thinking dark thoughts that made all kinds of terrible sense. “Time flies... time, time, time...”

My sighs and my memories are spread like so many ashes across the echoing wastelands of time, at End World beyond the light-blasted plains of Oblivica.

I could only conclude, based on my shiny new scar, that I had brought something back into this world with me. Brought something back through the tear in time and reality created when I died... Some nightmare had followed me back, to now, to this time - and for the first time, after all my new beginnings... it had shown itself, all during the last hour that hadn't happened yet.

“Why now...?”

I've done this so many times, failed the world so many times, fallen to enemies old and new, why now does this beast rear its ugly head? And why does it want me dead? I mean, I only end up back here - so why?

But that question didn't really matter to me, not really, because this time I'd be ready for it. I hadn't used magic last time because I could still be tracked by the Ministry - but now I wanted some answers, and I could outfox the Ministry long enough to get the Trace spell removed at a later date, even if I had to expose myself prematurely.

Maybe that was the anger talking a little, but I liked what it had to say. I was Harry Potter, and not to be trifled with by some two-bit monster with a rather pointy sword.

It was 09:43 when I stepped outside the house, my school bag slung over my shoulder. I scanned Privet Drive carefully, in no way trusting the world, and stepped across the lawn, hopping over the low hedge and garden wall.

Red car, I thought, leaning back against the wall and gripped with a feeling of déjà vu so intense I couldn't ignore it.

A few seconds later a red sedan drove past, startling Mrs. Figg's cat out from under a nearby parked car, which darted around the paving stone Tonks stood upon, under her cloak, and leapt over the wall, disappearing into the wilted hedgerow. I waited for the police siren in the distance a handful of seconds later, and then cleared my throat.

“I know you're there,” I said, glancing yet again at the paving stone where I knew Tonks would be. “Not going to say hello, Tonks?”

There was a sharp intake of breath and the rustle of invisible fabric, and the air moved around me as Tonks took a few steps closer. Apples and white roses washed over me, clean and clear - and calming.

“Harry,” my Order of the Phoenix guardian whispered furiously. “How did you know it was me? Wait a minute - you just guessed! It could have been anyone, even Mundungus, you knew someone would be here.”

“Sure I did,” I replied, playing my part whilst glancing up and down the street, and more importantly over my shoulder. The scar over my heart was itching like mad, and it hurt to scratch - raw and tender. Why can't my scars ever just be scars?

At 09:45 and twenty-eight seconds, when I could be sure no one was watching save Tonks, I grabbed my Invisibility Cloak from my bag and slipped it over the two of us.

“Harry!” she said.

“Don't worry, no one saw me but you - and at least this way no one will see me having a conversation with thin air.”

No arguing with that. “Just don't wander off,” Tonks said. “I'm here to keep an eye on you.”

“Nothing better to do with your time?” I quipped. “Like what you see?” My tone was lighter, more flirtatious, than I felt. “Although you can't keep an eye on me when I'm all invisible like this.” I lifted up the front of her cloak, pushing it back over her bubblegum-pink hair.

I couldn't help the shiver that rushed up my arm as I brushed the side of her face - warm and soft, and always, above all else, there were the apples and roses.

I remember standing here not so long ago now, and thinking how I had watched this woman die three years ago... Time's time, isn't it? Whatever that means. I always remember the bad memories a helluva lot more clearly than the good. I guess I'm not right in the head, but I was far too old to honestly care about that...

I shook my head - untangling the memories of Then and Now. I was only fifteen, not that old at all.

“This is cosy,” I said, as I did before. You look a little pale, Harry.

Tons grinned. “You look a little pale, Harry, are you feeling okay?”

“Just thinking about things, Tonks... bad memories.” Like watching you die. I savoured her scent - I think my sense of smell may be the most powerful sense I have - and her apples and roses left me spinning, all the time. “I've missed you.”

Last time I hadn't meant to say that out loud - this time it felt like it fit.

“Ha, well I've missed you too,” she replied, bemused but smiling. Her hair faded a moment later to dull, lifeless brown. “I miss him, too.”

Ah, Sirius, just one more tombstone sinking into the sea of blood, aren't you? I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I wish I could undo the past, but I'm beginning to believe that's just a fool's wish...

“And you've also got big bags under your eyes, Harry Potter,” Tonks continued, trying to lighten the mood. “Not sleeping?”

“Sleeping just fine,” I lied, wondering what would happen to my eyes if I was forced to travel back again. I have no control over the time-travel - it happens when I die, if Voldemort is still alive, and when the world ends always around my twenty-fourth birthday. The journey had forced them to bleed this last time, I wonder how many more trips it would take for them to burst?

I guess the human body wasn't supposed to be accelerated beyond the speed of light, especially twice in the course of an hour. Oh well... I'll burn that bridge to the ground when I come to it.

“Liar, liar,” Tonks whispered, pursing her lips in that way that made me want to kiss them - to grab her around the waist and pull her close, her lips against mine and tasting those apples and roses. I don't doubt she'd hex me into the next life if I tried, but it would almost be worth it because I'd wake up an hour ago, possibly in time to have my eyes explode... but it would be worth it. I've died for reasons a lot worse and none as near as pleasurable.

“Don't say it.” Say what?

I glanced at my watch. 09:47 and thirty seconds.

“Say what?”

“Ask me where I'm going, I can't tell you.”

Tonks arched an eyebrow, and as before her hair turned an inquisitive lime green. “Oh, really? Wherever you go I'm supposed to follow at a discreet distance.”

“Can't keep your eyes off me, huh,” I said, changing things up a little from the last time. “Or is it to make sure evil doesn't attack?”

Tonks grinned and rolled her eyes. The danced from blue to brown to bright yellow. Ah, the things I could teach her - will teach her - about being a Metamorphmagus. She had barely scratched the surface of her abilities.

“I'll take the latter,” she said. “It is one of the roles of a protective guardian, you know.”

I nodded with a smile - it was time to get moving. I had an appointment with a monster who was a little stab-happy, and I did not want to be late for Fleur's murder.

“So where are you going, Harry Potter, the Chosen One?”

I'd burn the Daily Prophet to the ground if I could get away with it - but it wasn't high on my to-do list. I was thinking more that I would have to disappear, and fast, if this creature turned up again. I don't like change, I'm a little afraid of it, and this monster, whatever it was, had disrupted plans I'd put into place time and time again... It had changed history, future-history, that hadn't happened yet.

Oh yes, despite Tonks' calming presence, and those wonderful roses, I was still quite pissed.

“You read the papers then? I'm off to save the wizarding world... speaking of which: Potete trovarli con Janus antico, sotto i eaves di Latium perso.”

Tonks smiled and frowned, poking her tongue out a little. “Harry, was that Italian?”

I quickly grabbed parchment and pen from my bag and scribbled down what I had just said, as I did last time. It was Italian, a code of sorts. One that ensured that, later in the summer, Tonks had the best chance of finding me. It didn't always work, but sometimes I had to put a little faith in what people call destiny. I handed her the parchment. Destiny maybe, but I think when it comes to the past, to memory, and to the hopes of the future, we all stack the deck as best we can - and my little note was the Ace of Hearts.

“Potete trovarli con Janus antico, sotto i eaves do Latium perso. Please remember, and hold onto this, it's important.”

“Well okay. I didn't know you could speak another language. What are you saying?”

I winked and tapped the side of my nose with my finger, as if hiding a great secret. I suppose I was in a way - perhaps the greatest and best kept secret of all time. It was going to be a busy summer. “You have the practical exam today, don't you, Tonks? For the promotion to Senior Auror.”

Tonks blinked. “How did you know that?”

I sighed and shook my head slowly, all too tempted to reach out and cup the side of her soft face. I didn't - I was still only a boy to her, just little Harry Potter who needed to be looked after because the big bad Dark Lord was coming to huff, and to puff, and to Avada Kedavra the house down...

I grinned, thinking back and ahead along thin golden cords of time, of cause and effect. I was just as lost as anyone, really, perhaps more than most...

“That's not the question you should be asking,” I said.

“No?”

“No.” I flashed what I thought was a charming, rakish smile. I think it actually looked a little sad, a little lonely - mostly in the bloodshot eyes. No matter. “The question you should be asking is how I know about the heart-shaped birthmark you've got on the sweet spot of your hip.”

God bless that honest, surprised expression on her face. Again, it would be worth dying and worth the pain of starting again just to see it once more.

Not this time. I took quick steps back, disappearing under my cloak before she could grab me and wring my scrawny neck.

Away I went, to save a life, to battle a monster, to begin my war.

*~*~*~*

This is my life - and it ain't a song for the broken-hearted. It's now or never, I ain't gonna live for ever-

I'll stop there, you get the point.

Every time I Wake Up it hurts a little more. Ha, a lot more. The Dream is the same, always the same, but the pain gets worse. Will I have to suffer it again, before this will be over? I always hope that maybe this is the time, the right Time, but it never is...

I can't imagine a worse hell than that - that part of my life - but I suppose the monster that stabbed me and precious Fleur had to have come from somewhere. Hell was a name as fitting as any, for the dark space between Then and Now, within the Dream.

Hell - why not - because I've never seen Heaven in what I have to do. Just madmen and demons... in whose dark company I do not feel out of place.

*~*~*~*

It was 10:05 and fifteen-seconds when I exited Slugs & Jiggers Apothecary, an Erumpent bladder cradled under my arm, and a half-smoked cigarette hanging from the corner of my mouth. I was roughly on time, give or take a few seconds, and I set off down the road towards Gringotts, pouring Dudley's lighter fluid once more into the potions bladder as I went.

My nerves were on edge, but I held an outward appearance of calm that I was proud of. More than a little paranoid, however, I scanned every face I past and that past me, wondering if a monster with grey, veiny flesh and sharp, decayed fangs was hiding behind the normal human faces around me. I wonder how many folks have to worry about that on a daily basis? Me, myself, and I - to name all but a few, I guess.

At 10:07 and forty-three seconds I saw Fleur Delacour for the first time that day - past lives don't count, they don't exist, they should not leave scars - and knew that in the next two minutes I was either going to die, she was going to die, or I was going to make a big old mess of Diagon Alley.

She looked just as great, just as cruelly beautiful as the last time, and all the times before... I hadn't forgotten how beautiful she was this time. No, not at all. Tonks was apples and white roses and all kinds of lovely, Fleur was strawberries and fresh rainfall and all kinds of perfect...

Curse the burden of choice, I thought.

I grabbed my wand out of my back pocket, holding the loaded Erumpent bladder with my throwing arm, just in case. I had come from the future, more than once, back to right now, and yet I had no idea what was going to happen in the next minute. I knew what was supposed to happen, but a sword hacking me in two, piercing my heart, had opened my mind to the possibility that things might not go as planned...

Almost time - ha, time.

The man hiding in the folds of his dusty black robes, the Death Eater intending to kill Fleur, emerged from the shadows under the eaves of Knockturn Alley, his wand raised and aimed straight at the French beauty as she alighted down the cool marble steps of Gringotts.

It was 10:08, just a moment in time, just a small moment in a big old world...

“AVADA KEDAVRA!”

I was ready for this part, even as Fleur reached for her wand on pure instinct and the crowds of shoppers froze, I was ready and faster. Indeed I had already moved. My bloated bladder spiralled through the air and erupted in a burst of greasy lighter fluid against the face of the hooded man.

His wand went wide, and the curse whooshed past Fleur and struck the ornate gilded doors of Gringotts just behind her, which buckled under the magic and large chunks of burning iron and marble slammed into the ground as she dived away.

I was a hero again.

And just like last time I flicked the butt of my dwindling cigarette through the air - straight into the face of her attacker. His skin and robes ignited with swift, sure blue fire. He screamed, dropped his wand, and fell to the ground, batting at the flames.

Fleur's mysterious assailant was down for the count once more. I won't pretend I don't feel a little satisfaction every time I burn the arsehole, but that's just my dark side peeking through the chaos...

And I had bigger problems than my sadistic nature, didn't I?

I was supposed to be dead in about forty-five seconds. Last time I had helped Fleur to her small feet with a charming smile - this time I wasn't nearly as chivalrous, ignoring her entirely and taking a step back from the scene, wand at the ready, awaiting my own mysterious assailant.

Where are you, you ugly bastard?

“'Arry Potter,” Fleur said, rising to her feet by herself. “What iz-? You saved me!”

There was no one around, no one within striking distance or carrying a sword with a four-foot blade. Just the crowds that had ducked and dived out of the way during the attempt on Fleur's life, the Aurors rushing down the street to take control of the situation, and the man in flames on the cobblestones over by Knockturn Alley.

Nothing - no one, no thing.

“Hello, Miss Delacour,” I said, looking everywhere but at her. My wand shook in my hand, power burning through the wood. I was ready to unleash hell. “Are you okay?”

And there it was - or rather, there was something. Not a monster with a sword, but something that was just as out of place. Hanging in the air in the middle of the square, between Fleur and myself, was a... gap. Just in the air, about three feet off the ground, a thin slit of nothing, a tear in the fabric of reality, right where I expected a sword-wielding monster to be standing.

I took a few steps closer, having absolutely no idea what it was.

“I am fine, 'Arry,” Fleur said, gazing at me pale and shaken. Her eyes kept jumping from the bank doors to the man only now managing to get the flames burning away his face under control. Her blouse had been torn in the fall, along her right arm. Her skin was grazed and bleeding.

“Do you see this?” I asked her, gesturing at the gap in the air, and also keeping a look out over my shoulder for any surprise attacks.

“See what?”

It was about a hand's span wide, and the edges shone dark blue, as fierce as lightning. I reached out my hand and touched it, just on the edge. It cut through the skin on the tip of my index finger cleanly, and a bright line of blood ran down to my palm. I wisely took a step back.

Still, I was intrigued. I looked into the heart of the thing, whatever it was, and saw nothing but darkness. I felt cold - freezing, even. Chilled to the bone. I gazed into this abyss, into this wound, that should not have been there, and I felt hypnotised by the damn thing.

No good can come of this, I thought. And then, as an afterthought soon forgotten: This is the end of the game.

“'Arry, see what?”

I had been distracted - entranced - and didn't see Fleur move until it was too late. She stepped across the cobblestones, closing the distance between us, and walked right through the long rip in the air that had just so efficiently cut my finger open.

I gasped, and jerked forward to pull her out of the way, fearing that she'd be cut in two or something much worse.

Fleur stepped through the breach in the air, straight through the gap in what I could only assume was reality, and emerged whole and unmarked. Her beautiful face was in front of mine, concerned and still a little scared, but whole and showing no sign that she had even seen, let alone felt, the darkness she had just walked through.

Where was my godforsaken murderer?

“'Arry?”

“I... um...” I cleared my throat. “Hi, Fleur.”

She grinned, and her face lightened. “You've already said 'ello once.”

“Did I? You've got me all unnerved, standing so close and looking so good.”

Fleur laughed and her eyes sparkled, just as the Aurors arrived.

“What happened?” the man in front said, his wand drawn and pointing at anything that moved. His younger partner was doing the same, her eyes widening when she recognised me.

“I waz attacked by this man,” Fleur said, stepping forward and gesturing to the smoking figure moaning and groaning next to Knockturn Alley. His visible flesh - face and hands - was a mess of blisters and burnt flakes of skin. He had been crawling towards his wand. “He used ze Killing Curse, az you can see eet missed. Merde eet waz close!”

And that was one thing I loved about Fleur - that I found so gosh darn cute. Whenever she was angry, or got all worked up, her accent took over and made her damn near impossible to understand.

“Stupefy,” the lead Auror said, and a jet of crimson light hit Fleur's attacker - he slumped to the ground, blissfully unconscious. “Bind him, Bryson. Right, we'll take him into custody now, Miss...?”

“Fleur Izabelle Delacour.”

“Miss Delacour,” the Auror said, as his partner proceeded to bind the man. “It's okay now - we've got him.”

I suspected the man might have been more than a little bit under the influence of Fleur's Veela charm, as he puffed out his chest and rested what I supposed was a comforting hand on her shoulder. I've never been a jealous man. Was it a tad violent to want to snap his hand off? Probably.

“We'll need you to make a statement as soon as possible, down at the Ministry. Until then I'll take down your residence and floo address, and we'll be in touch.”

“Very well.”

The Auror conjured a parchment and used the tip of his wand to jot down the address Fleur recited. “Date of birth?” he asked.

“Ze fifteenth of November, 1977.”

“Okay, thank you. We'll need to see you sometime today.”

“I will be zere this afternoon.”

“Perfect - now, did you witness the incident Mr...?”

He had noticed me - and there I was thinking he only had eyes for Fleur. Still glancing around, keeping an eye out for monsters with pointy blades and such, I stepped up next to Fleur, making sure I was clear of the tear in the air behind me. It hadn't hurt Fleur, yet it was fairly obvious that she hadn't been able to see it. I could definitely see it, and my finger was stinging from its razor-sharp edge.

“Potter, Harry Potter,” I said, and watched the man do a double-take, his eyes shooting for my forehead. “Yes, that Harry Potter - and, no, I'm not available for children's parties.”

“Er... you witnessed this man attack, Miss Delacour? You would testify to that in a court of law?”

“I sure would,” I agreed, nodding enthusiastically whilst expecting a sword through the gut at any moment. It looked as if my monster was a no-show however. How... disappointing?

“Cody,” the other Auror, Bryson, said from the entrance to Knockturn Alley. “This one's got a Dark Mark. He's a Death Eater.”

“Ah, Merlin...” Auror Cody replied, glancing at my forehead again, and then over to Fleur. She returned his gaze coolly, a single eyebrow raised. He caught himself staring and looked away, a blush rising in his cheeks. “We can't keep this quiet, Mr. Potter,” he said, “but you and Miss Delacour might want to leave while you can, before the Prophet arrives at least. We'll need your formal statement by the end of the day, however.”

I nodded, not in the mood for Rita Skeeter or any of her associates. I already made enough news for the papers, with plenty more on the way after the summer I had planned. “And you shall have it - Level Two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I'll swing by after lunch.” I wouldn't be in the country after lunch, but Auror Cody wasn't to know that.

He bought it - I was Harry Potter, after all, the Chosen one - and after nodding to me and smiling at Fleur, he slipped away to join his partner as the crowds, sensing the danger had past, milled in close to get a better look. A lot of them were staring at me, most of them with recognition in their eyes.

“I was heading to Gringotts, Fleur,” I said, turning to her. She and I were almost the same height, I think I noticed that the last time, before I was killed, but I wasn't so sure about that. Either way, she was a fraction taller and a lot prettier, but I was due a growth spurt by January - promise, set your watch by it - and once I could grow a bit of stubble on my cheeks and stopped looking like a surprised kid, I could even pull off ruggedly handsome. I like to think I can, anyway.

“I've just come from there,” Fleur replied. “I was on my morning break, 'eading for coffee, when ze attack... why would this man attack me?”

“Because you're auditing the Death Eater vaults,” I said, without thinking, gazing at the strip in the air that only I could see. I was half-entranced again, and it took my mind a moment to replay what I'd just said. How was I to know that's what she was doing? She looked at me, her eyes uncertain and her lips quivering. No taking it back now - I must've been really distracted to let something slip like that. “The Ministry under Scrimgeour is putting pressure on the goblins to see it done, and they're passing the buck back to us - to you - so as not to ruffle Voldemort's feathers. Goblins are... sneaky bastards.”

“'Arry, how could you know-?”

“It's what happened last time, during the last war,” I said, which was true. “A lot of the wizarding staff at Gringotts became targets for messing with Voldemort's finances.”

“Oh... I see.” She didn't, not really. I had postponed her questions though.

“So... heading to Gringotts, if you'd like to come with me?”

“I am due back, yes,” Fleur replied, placing her hand on my shoulder. “Thank you, 'Arry, for saving me.” She kissed me on one cheek and then the other.

Dear Merlin, strawberries can make my head spin...

“Ah,” I managed, my cheeks tingling from her kisses. “Ah, for you, Fleur, I'd duel the Dark Lord himself.”

She laughed - I had broken through her cool regard, it seemed. I often thought that her haughtiness, and her penchant for being overly dismissive, was more of a cover than anything else, hiding the true part-Veela beneath. I paused, having never actually thought that, it was one of those hazy thoughts that belonged to the future. I grasped at it...

I had first met Fleur, first spoken to her, that night the Goblet of Fire had spat my name out. She hadn't believed me, just like most, when I denied having put my name in it. And during that year she had always remained aloof. We only ever shared polite, brief conversation. But I had saved her sister Gabrielle during the Second Task, and had seen more than the cool, haughty exterior she showed the world to mask how alone she could be, how different the part of her that was Veela made her feel.

I think Fleur herself knew how intimidating she could be - especially to men, and most women saw her as a threat. She was stunning, completely and utterly breathtaking. A lot of women could be jealous over that, and how hard or rewarding would it be to have a conversation with a man that was practically drooling at the sight of you?

My thoughts trailed away... I was attracted to Fleur, but I also admired her in a way that only an outsider like herself could. We had both never fit in, and never would - not in this world, in this time.

“You duel Dark Lords whether I am there or not, no?”

I grinned, still gazing at the hole in the air. It was smaller now - less. I watched it dwindle, fade away... Whatever it was, and however it was created, it was being undone. The razor-sharp blue edge had dulled, and the gap pulled itself closed like the zip on a pair of jeans. I stepped forward with Fleur towards Gringotts, waving my hand through the air before me.

There was nothing there.

“Dark Lords, Death Eaters, Dragons, Dementors... give me something that wants to kill me starting with the letter 'D' and I'll give it my best shot.”

Fleur laughed again. “Are you trying to impress me with your heroism, 'Arry?”

I kept a steady eye out for any monsters looking to kill me, but there was nothing, and I got the feeling there wouldn't be anything today. But I doubted that I had seen the last of whatever it was that had sent me back to the beginning. I had the scar over my heart as a sore reminder to sleep with one eye open, at the very least.

I offered Fleur my arm and she took it as we stepped up and through the chunks of rubble and debris that had been blasted from the large doors of Gringotts. The goblins were only now beginning to clear the way, having thrown the buckled doors wide open so their customers could come and go. They were arguing amongst themselves in their harsh tongue and glaring at the man the Aurors held unconscious between them across the street.

“Impress you? No, no, I'm far too shy for that.” I paused. “Were you impressed?”

Fleur smiled. Have I mentioned how radiant she is? How hot? “Oui,” she said, and kissed my cheek again as we entered the wizarding bank.

It was 10:17 and forty-two seconds. I was alive, I was in good health, there was a beautiful French witch on my arm, and I had a small withdrawal to make.

*~*~*~*

A/N: What's your best guess for the next update? Let me know in a review, along with your opinion of this new story. Not much happening yet, but rest assured we're just getting warmed up.