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Harry glanced up at the other two Delacour women, noting their fond smiles for their younger family member as well as the welcoming smiles for himself. Harry immediately blushed again, looking down at the still-prattling Gabrielle, not noticing the smile of appraisal which graced his future mother-in-law's face, or the slightly forced quality of Fleur's own smile.
"Gabrielle, Harry does not understand French, my sweet," Mrs. Delacour admonished, her voice a throaty soprano, contrasting with what he remembered of Fleur's clearer voice.
The young witch's hands flew to her mouth, and she giggled, batting her eyelashes at Harry, who, bemused at the sight, smiled back at her.
"Oh, excusez-moi, Harry," Gabrielle breathed. "I did not think; I was so happy to see you."
"It's all right, Gabrielle," Harry responded, unable to stifle a returning grin.
"Come with me—I shall introduce you to my maman."
She dragged him the rest of the way across the room and dropped into a girlish curtsey in front of her mother, making Harry wonder if he should bow to the Delacour matron.
"Mama, I would like you to meet Harry Potter, my savior, and Fleur's…" here she cast a dirty look at her elder sister, "…betrothed."
Ignoring her daughter's antics, Mrs. Delacour stepped forward with a silvery laugh and greeted Harry. "Welcome to Chateau Delacour, Harry; we are happy to have you here."
"Thank you, Mrs. Delacour," Harry replied, feeling somewhat uncertain.
"Now, Harry," she admonished, "I know you call my husband by his name, and I would prefer you did the same with me. Please, call me Apolline. Now, I believe you are already acquainted with my older daughter, Fleur."
Harry smiled, suddenly feeling bashful, and turned to greet Fleur. She was regarding him with an unreadable expression on her face, and although he did not detect any hostility, he was still uncertain of her reception.
"Harry," she greeted him softly, prompting him to respond in kind. The situation seemed about to become somewhat awkward between the two of them until Gabrielle was once again there, tugging on his arm, once again began speaking, asking him how his trip was and how he liked France, among about a million other things.
Trying to decide how to respond, Harry was grateful when they were interrupted by the arrival of the two men.
"Ah, Harry, I see you have begun to charm my entire family," Jean-Sebastian stated with a hint of laughter in his voice. "I can see I will have to watch you, or you'll be stealing them all
away from me!"
"Don't tease the boy," Sirius cautioned with a smirk. "You'll break him. He is a teenager, after all."
The entire room broke out into laughter; even Harry laughed, although he did direct a pointed glare at the Marauder. Sirius did not deign to reply to his godson's displeasure, contenting himself with nothing more than a wink and an even larger grin.
"Well, if we are all finished, I think we can proceed to the dining room for dinner," Apolline interjected. She closed the remaining distance between Harry and herself and smiled brightly at him, interlocking one of his arms in hers. "Besides, Harry is such a handsome, charming young man—I think my husband could stand to take a few pointers from him."
She directed a mock arch look at her husband and then began sashaying from the room, pulling a completely nonplused Harry along with her. He could feel his cheeks burning in embarrassment, but Apolline merely smiled at him and directed him into the dining room, making certain to seat him beside her. Over his shoulder, he could hear Jean-Sebastian's good-natured grumbling, along with Sirius' open laughter, as each of the other men chose one of the sisters and escorted them into the room.
Whatever Harry had expected from the family, this was certainly not it, prompting him to wonder if he could manage to survive not only Sirius but also the entire Delacour family.
Dinner that evening was nothing like Harry had ever experienced at a dinner table—at least, nothing like any family he had ever eaten with; Hogwarts was another story altogether.
At the Dursleys', his residence from the time he had arrived as a child until after his eleventh birthday and his summers since then, dinners had not been an occasion for much conversation. While Dudley and Vernon had typically spent every meal trying to stuff everything they could in their mouths, his Aunt Petunia had eaten sparingly and daintily, almost as though trying to make up for the atrocious table manners and gluttony of her male family members. And to Harry, whose presence was merely tolerated at the best of times, actually speaking to any of his family members of inconsequential nothings was just as incomprehensible. His usual practice was to eat as quickly as possible and leave their presence—a circumstance which was undoubtedly as welcome to the Dursleys as it was to Harry himself.
By contrast, the other family with whom he had frequently dined—the Weasleys—had a tendency toward garrulity, as they were, as a family, quite boisterous and outgoing. Their mealtimes were generally filled with chatter, each family member loudly and confidently stating their opinions and generally having a good time. Yet while Harry generally enjoyed his time with the Weasleys, the raucous atmosphere, along with the way the family generally interacted with one another, left the quiet and shy young man slightly overwhelmed; in essence, they made him feel welcome by word and deed, but their family atmosphere was not one in which he could feel completely comfortable. He just was not certain he fit in.
Dinner with the Delacours was, by contrast, quiet and subdued. They quite clearly adored each other—the parents' pride and affection for their daughters, the children's respect and love for their parents, all of this was clear to see. Yet they were quiet and controlled in their warmth, and their conversation was pleasant and loving, yet restrained and respectful. Each person was allowed to state their own opinion without interruption before the next person took up the conversation, something which contrasted heavily with the Weasleys' tendency to speak over one another in an effort to be heard. Harry did not think any less of the Weasleys for the way their family unit worked, but he found himself thankful for the Delacours' quiet camaraderie—it was certainly more suited to his own somewhat quiet and thoughtful demeanor.
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