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The group's discussions were interrupted by the train's whistle, signaling that the departure was five minutes away. Immediately hugs were exchanged, farewells spoken, and Jean-Sebastian took the opportunity for a last piece of instruction for the departing teens.
"Have a good time at school," he admonished. "And remember—if Umbridge should try anything at all, speak with your Headmaster. You can contact me for anything, and I will give you whatever help you require."
Fleur stepped over to hug him and say her farewells. Jean-Sebastian enveloped her in his arms, reflecting that this was the last time that she would be leaving for school—after this year, she would have graduated, and be ready to enter the larger adult world. A lump formed in his throat as he retreated to arm's length and gazed into the face of his beautiful daughter.
"I am very proud of you, Fleur," he said through slightly misty eyes.
"Thank you, Papa," was her response.
She paused for a moment before she spoke again. "I want you to know that I am very pleased with my situation, Papa. I was a little upset about the betrothal—since you never even saw fit to inform me of its existence! I was worried it would not work out. But I think it has all been for the best. I think I will be very happy with Harry."
Jean-Sebastian's smile was one of relief. He had wrestled with the decision for some time, not wishing to take his beloved daughter's chance at happiness away, before he had finally determined to enact the marriage contract. The fact that everything he had heard about Harry was positive had been a great relief, as he felt the young man would treat Fleur well. But that did not guarantee her happiness. That she was getting along with the young man so well was exactly what he wished to hear.
"I am glad to hear it," he finally answered. "I too think you will do well together. Just remember to confide in one another; look out for one another—it will draw you closer together, and make your transition even easier."
"We both will, Papa. Harry is very protective of his friends, and I know that he will be watching out for me as much as I will be for him."
Jean-Sebastian separated from his daughter, and once the general goodbyes had been said, the three teenagers boarded the train. Jean-Sebastian was amused as the prediction regarding the Weasleys proved true, as moments before the train began the long journey, the family scurried onto the platform and the four youngest instantly ran for the train. He shared an amused glance with Fleur through the window, as the train gave a lurch, and slowly began to move down the tracks.
"Is it just me, or has this year been the hardest to let go of her?" Apolline asked as they waved farewell to the children.
"It's her last year of school," was Jean-Sebastian's simple reply. "This time next year she will be looking for a job. She's all grown up."
"That makes me feel so old!"
Amused, Jean-Sebastian put his arm around his wife's shoulders. "My dear, you are still every bit as beautiful today as you were the day I first saw you. And we are not so very old yet, you know."
"We are not so very young, either," came the grumpy voice of his wife. "A daughter all grown." She looked down at her younger daughter, who was peering up at her parents with a quizzical expression on her face. "And this little one will be following in her sister's footsteps before long," she continued with a smile and a hug for Gabrielle."
"So she will," Jean-Sebastian agreed, as he steered his wife and daughter from the platform. "But not today."
"How long does it take to get to Hogsmeade, Harry?"
"About eight hours, give or take," was Harry's reply.
Harry regarded his new betrothed with a hint of a mile evident on his face. Fleur's demeanor reminded him of himself on his first journey to Hogwarts—excited and thrilled at the new experience, yet with a hint of trepidation at the unknown.
Of course Fleur had been to Hogwarts before—she had spent most of the previous year at the school, after all. However, this was different. It was the first time she had ridden the express for one thing. Perhaps it was more mundane than the method she had used the previous year—it was difficult to top a journey made in some fancy Cinderella carriage pulled by flying horses—but the journey via the express was a magical experience in its own right. Most importantly, however, she was returning to Hogwarts as a student, not a visitor, and that made all the difference for the young woman.
Harry was well aware of her insecurities—they had talked enough for him to understand them, regardless of the fact that she had never openly declared what was worrying her. But he knew that she fretted that her experience at Hogwarts would end up much the same way as it had at Beauxbatons: plenty of acquaintances, but no close friends. She feared that she would forever be set apart by her heritage.
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