It was Fleur calling him down for dinner. He looked at his scratchy sandy underwear lying on the floor. It just didn't look very inviting, as Bill voice called out to warn Harry that Ron was eyeing up his soup. He felt a guilty pleasure as he slipped his trousers back on again. Following that, he pulled his shirt back on. Pulling out a pair of slippers, just as he headed for the door, he glanced into the mirror, sure that everyone would know his satin secret. There wasn't a trace of the soft shimmering fabric appearing at the waistband of his trousers.
Satisfied, but still unsettled he headed downstairs. Dobby was softly banging his head against the leg of the table. The reason was a small splash of tomato soup, on the stone floor of the kitchen. Bill was wiping it up, while Fleur spoke kindly to Dobby, trying to hug him to stop the rhythmic smacking.
"Dobby, stop that... please." Harry asked.
Instantly the house elf tried to bow to the new arrival, and offered a soft smile as an apology.
Harry certainly wasn't going to tell the elf that his act of contrition had caused the bowls on the table to slosh about, the glasses of Butterbeer now sitting in puddles.
"I've asked you not to do that, haven't I?" he asked as he sat down.
The atmosphere at the table was familiar. With Griphook and Mr. Ollivander staying in their rooms, it could almost pass as a normal day. There was a pain in Luna's eyes, an insecurity in Ron's posture, and agitation in Hermione's gestures as she started on the soup.
Harry was constantly aware of the soft, smooth, chill of his panties, barely tasting the soup.
Hermione complimented Fleur on her cooking, and soon small talk was flowing around the table. Whenever, Luna added to the conversation, Bill smiled at Fleur. The delightful French witch was clearly struggling to either follow what she was saying, or perhaps was wanting to object. Harry recognised that reaction, and the patting of hands, as if he were smoothing ruffled feathers.
Dutifully, Dobby cleared away the bowls, and soon the main meal sat in front of everyone.
Harry brought up the subject. "What do we do now. Does anyone have any ideas about possible Horcruxes?"
Hermione loudly cleared her throat, and gestured for Harry to shup up. But after their experiences, he felt that they'd earned the right.
The conversation went back and forth. As Fleur, Bill and Luna asked endless questions about what they already knew. Until the night drew in, and Harry felt like he was going over the same information for the fifth time.
He wanted their help, their insight, and after Ron's doubts and questions, he was used to repeating himself.
He explained everything that he'd learned from Dumbledore, recounted all the memories he could in as much detail as he could.
Luna took on a pensive look...
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