On the Affectionate Nature of Veelas, a study by Harry Potter:

Prompt: Harry and Fleur are friends, they have been since they met a few days before the first task.

Later, after the second task, hear rumours of the other liking them. so, they decide to try and let the other down slowly. Basically, Harry thinks Fleur likes him, Fleur thinks Harry likes her, and both are trying to let each other down without hurting each other's feelings.

Later, they realise that they fell in love at some point, and it develops from there, with Fluer being really tactile and affectionate, and Harry not minding it one bit, because he finds out Veela hugs are worth including her in the shitshow that is his life.

The theme of the story will be wholesome, fluffy, and cute as hell.

Headcanon:

• Veela have higher body temperature than baseline humans. She is therefore affectionate, soft and warm. They also crave physical intimacy with their partners.
• Harry isn't entirely immune to the Allure. In fact Fleur enjoys entrancing Harry with her dancing. In private. And no other veela is allowed to try the same thing.
• Later, Fleur is determined to know Harry better every day, make him smile every day, find a new way to express her love for him every day. Because he deserves it. And he does the same.
• First law of devotion: always remember the effects your veela can have on you, even without trying to. They are quite magical and passionate creatures, after all. But be ever more aware of the effect you can cause in her, for you are the focus of that magic
• Veela have quirks that have particularities endemic to the individual. For example, all Veelas like to be petted in one way or another, for Fleur this means having her hair played with. Could be having it brushed or just having fingers run through it. This calms her and makes her glow. Literally. Harry was quite surprised by this at first, and then he was like * shrugs *if she glows, she glows. Am I right?
• Veela pass their folklore through song. So as a little girl, Apolline would sing her to sleep with stories of their elder days. So as she grew up, she always enjoyed beautiful songs with strong vocals like ballads.

Fleur: Overly Affectionate, softy marshmallow. Loves hugging and cuddling her Harry, all the time. She's not a morning person. Lead her to just sticking on to Harry like a limpet when it's time for breakfast. While looking fabulous, of course.

Scene ideas:

• Fleur is at Grimmauld place when Harry arrives, She spots him and immediately latches on. Much to Harry's delight, the Order's surprise, and Bill's chagrin. Because no matter how cool Bill may look or act trying to chat her up, there's no way in hell that she's giving up her Harry Hugs. Ever.

• How Hogwarts learned not to interfere with Fleur's morning coffee. Including Seamus Finnegan's singed eyebrows.

• How Hogwarts learned never to get in between her and Harry when she's in a cuddly mood. Fleur's extra cranky, wings, claws, flames and all. Malfoy narrowly evaded incineration. They throw Harry at her over a makeshift barricade. Fleur latches on to him and starts to croon/purr. Harry sees that everyone wants him to cuddle with Fleur. Decides that finally interesting things are happening that he actually wants.

• Post 2nd trial Fleur is pretty wrung out and Harry uses his champion privileges to skive off all day to comfort her

• Christmas exchange of gifts, when their relationship has not developed yet, but both think the other is very cute.

• Introducing Harry to Gabrielle, who is small, energetic, motormouth and adorable. She can't decide if she'd rather cuddle Big Sister Fleur or Harry. And then decides since Fleur is constantly cuddling with Harry, she wants both, and jumps in.

• Harry and Fleur visit the graves of Lily and James? Sad scene where Fleur is supportive and nervous. Lots of positive physical contact. They are both older, settled into their relationship. Quiet supportive touches, hand in the crook of the elbow, leaning head on Harry's shoulder, etc. Just unconditional support, quiet, expressed by touches, because Fleur is a tactile person. And no matter what, she stands by her man's side.

• Harry is sad and mopey/ stressed , and Fleur tries to make him feel better the way she's seen her mom do to her dad: Shove his face in her breasts and hold him there till he relaxes.Its suffocation, but Fleur doesn't realise that, at first. she's seen her mum do it, and her dad always relaxes afterward. Of course, that's from passing out from lack of oxygen, but… what a way to go.

• Harry wound up in the hospital wing, maybe after the third task. Fleur watches Harry having spasms in bed, an aftereffect of being tortured by the Cruciatus curse. She is unable to comfort him the usual way (cuddling/hugs). She desperately searches for a way to comfort the boy, the kind, gentle young man who came to mean so much to her. She starts singing.

• Fleur's parents quickly come to like young Harry. Fleur's father takes it upon himself to do every gentleman's duty: Teach the young man about the difference between a bad wine, a good wine and an exceptional wine.

• Fleur's family all taking their turns teaching him to cook their favorite french foods. Gabrielle of course just wants to take Harry for a ride on a pony.

• Harry learns the animagus transformation, and finds out his form is a lion. Fleur is immediately besotted with the form and can't keep her hands off his fluffy mane, because there’s more Harry to cuddle, and he’s so fluffy. Harry gets a cool Marauder name, but Fleur just calls him Cuddles.

• It is morning, after a night spent spooning, after freshening up, dressing up, Fleur imperiously turns to Harry and in her hand... a hairbrush. Fleur proceeds to elegantly sit down, leaving Harry facing a daunting task. Brushing the exquisite, looong, silky and silvery hair of Fleur Delacour, until perfection is achieved. It is an arduous task, long and fraught with risk. Harry dares not make a single mistake, a single plucked hair from a veela's head would mean facing her wrath. Yet that is a task that Harry willingly bears, faces every morning. He wouldn't have it any other way. The hair of his beloved - his most precious plaything. That, and he does it so she won't try fixing his hair like that one, unmentionable time, but we don't talk about that in polite company. shush.

• After a year together, Fleur finds herself having to look up to meet her boyfriend's eyes. At the start of her relationship, when they hugged, Harry fit neatly to her body, comfortably wrapped in Fleur's arms (and sometimes wings), Fleur could so easily envelop Harry. Now she finds Harry too large for that. Harry comes and takes her into his arms. Fleur perfectly molds to his body, her head neatly fitting on his shoulder. Bliss.

• Probably no Fleur in there, but: As Harry spends more time with Fleur's family, it falls to mr. Delacour to teach Harry about certain manly things. It is something he relishes, he loves his daughters dearly, but teaching these things, man to man, he never thought he would get this chance. This includes proper shaving charms, grooming and beard maintenance.

• Harry Potter had some limited experience with music. While the Dursleys did not play or listen to music much, there were still some songs in Harry’s childhood. The Hogwarts school song was a strange experience, but Harry in fact had fun. Hagrid’s present in the form of a flute brought much joy to Harry’s heart and even in later years, when he found himself alone, he tried to play a little ditty, simply to have fun. Never was he disturbed during such a time, were he a suspicious young man, he would think that Hogwarts itself enjoyed these moments of innocent joy. The musical experience that quite probably brought a large change into his life happened in his fourth year, near the end. He had returned with Cedric Diggory’s body, having to face the wrath and might of the returned Lord Voldemort and having escaped alive, but not unscathed. Now he lay in the Hospital wing, his mind muddled by the medical potions issued by the kindly matron. His skin was sensitive due to the exposure to the Cruciatus, painful spasms overtaking his body from time to time. His only company was the intriguing person who had found her way into his heart. The events of the third task, having to watch her go down to Krum’s onslaught, brought out a startling realization. He loved her. The thought of losing her brought him to the edge of despair and homicidal rage. The thought of never seeing her again giving him the drive to overpower Voldemort in a battle of wills. Now she sat by his side, face and eyes reflecting deep sorrow and despair, her hand cautiously playing with his hair. Then Fleur Delacour, face set with fierce determination, opened her mouth. Words in an unfamiliar language flowed forth, carried by a haunting, beautiful melody. Fleur always had a beautiful voice, but at this moment, Harry’s thoughts went back to his childhood, hearing the description of angelic choirs. In the darkened room, lights suddenly appeared as Fleur, while singing, wielded her wand with the deftness of a conductor. Harry did not understand the words, yet the melody and light show touched his heart, music expressing what words had failed to convey. Tears sprung from his eyes when the realization finally hit him. Here, in this room with an angel, he was loved. It was some time after that, when he safely recovered, after many talks with Fleur, Sirius and others, when he learned that in the Delacours’ home singing and music were a part of everyone’s life, he was determined. He may be a wizard, a survivor, but for his Angelic Flower, he would become her bard.

• From Fleur’s POV: Her best friend, her beloved, her cuddle partner, Harry was keeping secrets from her. That was not something she liked. Her wide eyes failed, her pout did not work. Even her papa assured her that everything was fine, assured her that whatever Harry was doing, she would love the result. After Harry looked at her with indescribable tenderness, asking her for patience, how could she refuse, when that look just made her weak in the knees, some primal part of her yearning to tie her Harry to a bed and have her wicked way with him? He wanted time alone and she could not deny him. Whenever they were together, he was as affectionate as she came to know him, as tender asleep as awake. His eyes never strayed, he was hers just as she was his. So she waited, patiently (sometimes) until he was ready to tell her. Her parents, her sister always smiled at her knowingly, it was infuriating! Yet she trusted Harry, since if she could not trust him, then whom? She carefully observed her Harry, she noticed certain details, sometimes his voice was hoarse, his fingers rougher than before, yet he always her treated with just the right amount of passion and tenderness.

• Until finally, one evening her wait was over. As was tradition, first her mother, accompanied by dear Gabbi sung for the family and guests. Their performance, lovely as always brought applause from family and friends. Now it was her turn, but everyone was smiling and looking expectantly. She searched the audience, yet the person she longed to see the most, was absent. Suddenly the back door opened and her Harry entered, dressed in fine robes of green and gold. A pop sounded and next to her a magnificent harp, silver, looking as if a god wrought moonbeams into the shape of this instrument. Harry assuringly smiled at her and approached the harp. She knew it was time to start. Unsure she began the song of the Lonely Comet and the Phoenix when she heard the tones, the tinkling of silvery strings of the harp, strummed by Harry’s agile fingers. And when the part when the Phoenix approached the Comet, until then all alone flying through the night sky, Harry’s voice answered hers. And so, from then on, two hearts sung as one, united for the most glorious of purposes.

• Continuing the affectionate Fleur prompt, Harry wound up in the hospital wing, maybe after the third task. Fleur watches Harry having spasms in bed, an aftereffect of being tortured by the Cruciatus curse. She is unable to comfort him the usual way (cuddling/hugs). She desperately searches for a way to comfort the boy, the kind, gentle young man who came to mean so much to her. She starts singing.

• Just an alternate scene that might be funny: When Harry arrives at Grimmauld place in OOTP, Hermione slams into him in one of her Hermione Hugs (patent pending), sending him stumbling back. Fleur's walking by entrance, because no one told her Harry was coming, and sees Harry on the ground, Hermione hugging him, and instantly overreacts, Fireball appearing in her hand, sprouting white feathers, etc, going : "Get. Away. From. My. Teddy. Bear."

• Harry had to cuddle with her for a few hours to calm her down (Not that he's complaining.)

• Bill looks like someone killed his puppy and made him eat it.

• A scene idea for Affectionate Veela Fleur naturally loved holding her husband Harry in her arms, she adored the feeling of his body against hers, relishing the shared heat. But what she loved just as much, if not more, was being held by her husband. She also loved dancing and beautiful dresses, so when the invitation for the Ministry Ball came, she turned her devastatingly soulful gaze on Harry, he complied almost instantly. For Fleur, the chance to dress like a queen and dance the evening away in her husband’s arms was just irresistible. They immensely enjoyed themselves, losing themselves in each other. Nothing scandalous happened, they just danced, basically ignoring all others. The next day, Harry’s colleagues awkwardly relay to him how they felt uncomfortable during the ball. While they merely saw a man dancing with his wife, they all had the feeling they were intruding on something infinitely more intimate.

• A scene for Affectionate Veela (i should really get around to writing a few more): Harry doesn't know whats wrong. Fleur woke up sick today, again, and he's really worried. She went to the healer later that morning, and now she's fretting, refuses to look at him, and seems to go out of her way to avoid him. That evening, he decides enough is enough. He corners her in the living room, and pulls her into a Harry Hug™. She tries to break away at first, but he holds on until she relents and melts into his embrace, signing in contentment. Harry gently lifts her face, to look her in the eyes: "what's wrong Fleur? "

She glances down, unwilling to meet his gaze: "i... I can't say"

Harry freezes, his brain conjuring up horrible implications behind that sentence. He shakes his head and takes a deep breath. This was his Fleur. She wouldn't hurt him.

He kisses her, gently, pouring as much of his love for her as he can into that one kiss, before he says: "Fleur. i love you. You're my wife, my partner, my other half. I can see something is really bothering you. If you don't want to tell me now, that fine. Just remember that i'll be here when you want to tell me.

Fleur takes a step back, out of his touch, and he nearly lets out a whine of longing at the loss of contact. She nibbles her lower lip in that adorable way of hers that makes him want to pick her up, pin her against the wall and fuck her brains out. she pokes her fingertips together as she glances up at him shyly and says: "'Arry... I'm pregnant" Harry's brain screeches to a halt.

Other Stuff:

A poem that might fit:

To whom,—as Fancy, taking longer flight,       
With folded arms upon her heart's high swell,     
Floating the while in circles of delight,       
And whispering to her wings a sweeter spell     
Than she has ever aim'd or dar'd before—     
Shall I address this theme of minstrel lore?         
To whom but her who loves herself to roam     
Through tales of earlier times, and is at home     
With heroes and fair dames, forgotten long,    
But for romance, and lay, and lingering song?     
To whom but her, whom, ere my judgment knew,     
Save but by intuition, false from true,     
Seem'd to me wisdom, goodness, grace combin'd;     
The ardent heart; the lively, active mind?    
To whom but her whose friendship grows more dear,     
And more assur'd, for every lapsing year?     
One whom my inmost thought can worthy deem     
Of love, and admiration, and esteem!