Flowerpot

Harry Potter but set in the Halo universe, and Halsey kidnapped him for the Spartan II program, and he's given a smart AI who is created from the brain of a deceased scientist by the name of Fleur Delacour, who just so happened to be a witch

ASOIAF crossover, the Dance of Dragons is finished, Lord Cregan Stark returned to Winterfell, married for a second time, this time to Alysanne Blackwood, a fierce woman noted for her lack of fear, midnight black locks and piercing green eyes.

Years have gone by and Harrion Stark, Lord Cregan’s second son, is certain of many things. His big brother Rickon is going to one day rule as the Stark of Winterfell, married to his pretty wife Jeyne of House Manderly. Harrion was going to be his brother’s most loyal bannerman and willingly spent time with Winterfell’s Master-at-Arms, training to be the best he could be. He knew he loved and respected the Old Gods, often finding a quiet time to sit under Winterfell’s Weyrwood Tree.

Now, however, he was called to his Father’s solar. Upon arriving, he noticed that there were strangers accompanying his father. Southron looking strangers with silvery hair of Old Valyria, bearing sigil of House Celtigar.

A long, confusing conversation ensued, Prince Jacaerys had been married before he died, to a sister of the current Lord Celtigar. It turned out they managed to conceive before he died. Fearing retribution, the resulting daughter was brought up in secret, yet now, Rūklenys, Ruk for short, named for being a precious flower with her Valyrian blood coming to the forefront again. Harrion remembered being told about the pact, Prince Jacaerys’ firstborn daughter was to marry Rickon. Yet the prince died, seemingly without issue and Rickon was married now.

“Lord Stark, you have honoured your side of the Pact. Do not let it be said that we do not honour ours. Lady Rūklenys Targaryen, removed from the line of succession now, is here. We brought her and remand her into your hands, Lord Stark. We trust she will be treated as is proper.”

Now this, Harrion decided, was a surprise. His green eyes locked with the seemingly demure gaze of the young Lady and he noticed a spark in there. She certainly did not seem a fragile Southron Flower.

Harry and Fleur's little cottage stood alone on a cliff overlooking the sea, it was located on the outskirts of Tinworth, Cornwall, near the coast. Looking at the cottage, visitors would often describe it as a "lonely and beautiful place". The cottage had been gifted to them by Arthur and Molly as a wedding present. Harry; however, loved the isolation of the place as it kept himself and his wife away from prying eyes.

It all started innocently, you see. Harry Potter began collecting feathers when his wife Fleur would sometimes shift into her Veela form during their "private" times. Harry found them to be rather soft and exquisite.

Fleur found the sight amusing and once asked her husband, "'Arry? What are you doing wiz zose?"

Harry replied with a grin, "Pillows, love!"

Fleur giggled and let a few more feathers drop as she watched her husband pick them up.

Indeed, Harry made a few pillows from the feathers he had collected. There were a couple that he kept in a lounge chair in his office at Hogwarts. Rather than become an Auror, he accepted the position of DADA Professor when it was offered to him by Headmistress McGonagall. His personal office would soon gain a reputation that it seemed to radiate a warmth and welcome not found in other professor's offices.

Harry also collected the feathers his two daughters or chiclets (he adored that term), Victoire and Émilie, would drop when he and Fleur, or their friends, would play with them. He turned those into bedroom pillows for himself and Fleur.

Minerva McGonagall paced irritably up and down a quarter of the street, passing back and forth before three houses on repeat. Her tail twitched to and fro, her whiskers jerked in time, and all of it expressed her supreme disbelief. A few of the muggle inhabitants had surely noticed the odd behaviour of the cat, which had turned up this morning and lingered in the street all day, most unusually. Few continued to pay her mind though, unbeknownst to them the charms she cast upon herself made it hard for muggles to focus on her for long.

It wasn't until long after the sun went down that her long vigil paid off. With a soft pop a solitary robed figure appeared in the street across from number four. The cat darted toward it, transforming mid stride into a strict woman in similar robes. "What are you thinking Dumbledore?" She bit out by way of greeting.

6 years later

Petunia Dursley was conflicted. Ever since leaving Britain she'd done her best to maintain her house to the standards their new home country demanded. She studied up on all the French recipes, practiced her pronunciations, and on the whole gave none of the neighbours anything to gossip about when they had them round for tea or dinner. It didn't come easy, and at times she was befuddled as to how her life had ended up like this. But when opportunity comes a-knocking, as they say, and this particular opportunity came affixed with a few extra zeros. Opinions of the French as a whole aside, she'd done her best to make this place home and was rather pleased with her successes as they were. Which led her to this very moment, with some strange French woman sitting at her dining room table and talking about some 'special program' for Lilly's boy. On the one hand, she did not want any more attention drawn to him, or her family for that matter, and she had trouble understanding why he of all people had been selected for it. On the other hand the woman had said something about tax benefits, what with Dudders studying abroad back home in England and the Potter boy being taken out of public school should they approve of it.

"I would have to speak with my husband about it." She said by way of deflection, to give herself more time to think. "You said he was referred to you because of behavioral problems?"

She said this resolutely in English. Her rather paltry attempts at French were reserved for the neighbours and wives of Vernon's closer work associates. Those, in short, who's opinions actually matter. It was clear that in Petunia's mind, as this woman was an intruder in her house and far more importantly was here regarding Harry, her opinion did not matter in the slightest.

The woman, to her credit, gave no outward sign that she was offended by Petunia's intentionally off-putting demeanor. She answered in near flawless English that even Vernon would struggle to find something to scoff at.

"Yes as I said, we believe young Potter would be a better fit for this school than the one he currently attends." She had not, in fact, implied at all that Harry's behavior was the reason they were interested in him. But Petunia had immediately come to this conclusion on her own, and the French witch had done nothing to disavow her of this. She reached across the table and took back the emerald folder she'd slid toward the muggle woman when it became clear she had no intention of looking through it. It mattered little, it contained nothing but lies anyway.

"And it won't cost us anything?" Petunia asked again, looking down her haughty nose at the woman. She tried to at least, it was rather difficult when they were both seated.

"Non- no." She corrected herself, using the English denial. "There are scholarships in place to cover it, and as I said, without a child in public schools we can work to have your taxes adjusted accordingly."

"I'll have to discuss it with my husband." Petunia deflected again, but she knew that Vernon would be sold on the decreased tax bill alone. "Will he go and live on campus then? I'll not be carting him into Paris every morning and picking him up in that traffic!" She said waspishly.

"Transportation can be arranged, it is no issue." She said briskly. She was a professional diplomat, a seasoned veteran of the magical French government, and even she found it difficult to contain her distaste for this wretched English woman. It was becoming rather clear she would not be getting an answer during this visit, which was a shame because she did not relish the necessity for a second trip to the Dursley house.

"Very well." She concluded before Petunia could respond, ready to be done with all this. "If I could just see the boy for a second, I have some information for him, and then I'll return next weekend after you've had a chance to discuss things." Petunia looked like she was trying to chew and swallow her own tongue as she warred with herself. She did not want to go and get him, she did not really like the sound of all this. However the potential benefits seemed nice, and she seemed to decide that they outweighed her misgivings. If only just for now, at least. She stood from the little table and gave a jerky nod of the head.

"Alright, wait here then," She said and turned, not to the hall toward the stairs, but rather to the back door out the kitchen. The French witch could see out a garden window, Petunia, crossing the yard. She went to the little shed along the back fence. It was built, like the house, from irregular stone held together with mortar in the style of old medieval cottages, though she knew this suburb was much more recently erected. She assumed it was some sort of playhouse for the children until the door was opened and a scrawny boy with messy hair and ratty clothes far too big for him exited. In the brief moment she could see inside she glimpsed a little bed, barely big enough to fit the room, and a pile of clothes on the ground.

Her pristine demeanor shattered, and she only just managed to get her rage and indignation back under wraps before the two of them entered the kitchen once more. "This woman wants to have a word with you." Petunia barked when the boy was presented before her.

"Bonjour madame." Harry Potter said, in surprisingly adept French, she had not expected it after dealing with this Dursley woman.

"Bonjour, Harry." She responded, switching to French and managing to smile down at him despite her now foul mood. "Je m'appelle Margot Monet." He did not quite meet her eyes, his whole demeanor seemed to radiate meekness, like he was trying to convince you he wasn't actually there. "I was just talking to your aunt here about inviting you to attend our school." She spoke a little faster than perhaps necessary, testing his French out of personal curiosity more than anything. His eyes flicked up to her face, and he seemed to find it acceptably warm and friendly for he finally turned his head up to face her fully. "Would that be something you think you would be interested in?"

The English woman seemed rather put out by all this French being spoken in her kitchen, though Margot got the impression she could at least follow their conversation. The little boy before her nodded hesitantly and she redoubled her warm smile, trying to convey her intentions to the boy through it. Oh she would be having harsh words with the president about this.

Due to a difficult to explain magical phenomenon, Harry and Fleur get stranded on a strange new world. There are no signs of civilization in sight, and the pair has only their wands and their ingenuity to help them survive. What is worse, active magic behaves erratically at best, and so they have to rely on hand-made magitech.

And so unfolds the tale of a mad scientist Veela and a speed demon adrenaline junkie wizard, stranded together in a wasteland, surviving and learning to thrive.

Harry and Fleur gently smiled at each other as they observed their exuberant daughter running around their house near the Veela enclave. Tomorrow would be a great celebration, Winter’s End, the Great Night, the Red Holiday. In the end they managed to get her to sleep and both went to their shared bed.

The next morning they were awakened by their daughter jumping on them. The whole family went to the near stream, to a place of confluence of several minor streams. With Sun’s first rays they have arrived and, in silence, they proceeded to wash themselves in the cold water. When they finished, as the sun rose higher, their daughter grabbed their hands and dragged them to the nearest pussy willow. It took them some time to gather the four branches that seemed just right. Those would be put into the four corners of their garden to protect the next harvest.

Next came a part that their daughter perhaps enjoyed the least, the spring cleaning of their house, each of them looking for something they no longer needed. They all found a trinket they wouldn’t mind getting rid of and went to the enclave’s centre. There a large pyre was being built, with both large logs and tiny kindling. And every person in the enclave added one thing from their home to that pyre. Next to it, a group of Veelas were preparing an effigy, dressing it in a white dress and ribbons, decorating it with a necklace of beads made from emptied eggs.

The children’s favourite part came next since the young men of the enclave came with their arms full of young willows twigs, all long and springy. Every person proceeded to grab one and what can only be described as a free-for-all descended on the Enclave. From the smallest child to the most venerable of Priestesses, everyone tried to give every other person’s behind at least one good thwack with the willow twig. Cheers and laughter erupted around the enclave as the great Spring Chase happened. Grudges, dignity, all was forgotten in this ancient rite of rejuvenation. Eventually, the women and children departed to their homes while the menfolk gathered the twigs in the best condition and each man started braiding them into a springy willow whip. They then put a few colourful ribbons at one end and held the other. When they were finished, the men followed their wives, girlfriends or mothers and sisters.

Harry entered his home to hear his giddy daughter giggling while Fleur seemed to be defending the kitchen with her own body. It was time for another rite. While reciting traditional poetry, Harry started gently smacking Fleur’s delectable backside. Each swing of the springy willow whip supposed to help keep Fleur youthful and fresh. As Harry finished, Fleur quickly grabbed him by the collar and kissed him, while their daughter giggled behind her hand.

This rite finished, the family grabbed the food Fleur with her daughter’s “assistance” prepared while Harry was braiding.

Again, the inhabitants of the enclave gathered at the centre where they prepared long tables and benches so everybody could fit in. Every family brought food, every person in the enclave contributed to this communal feast. The tables were decorated with coloured eggs and willow twigs bearing golden catkins. Everybody had enough to eat to enjoy the day, music started playing and the feast slowly transformed into a party with dancing and storytellers.

As the sun was nearing the horizon, people starting chanting. “Morena! Burn her! Burn Morena!”

With Sun’s last rays, the effigy of Morena, the personification of Winter and Death, was put on the pyre and the fire was lit. The inhabitants still played music, lively tunes on fiddles, flutes, bagpipes and other instruments and danced merrily around the pyre.

Finally, the celebrations ended, Harry (carrying his exhausted daughter) and Fleur returned to their home, put their daughter into her bed, activated the monitoring charms and stood in the door of their own bedroom.

“Let me show you ‘ow youthful and fresh I am, ‘usband.”

I wanna see a fic with a squib protagonist that rises to power by using potions and alchemy to permanently alter their body and imbue it with effects and powers to overcome their disadvantage against conventional witches and wizards. Borrow the magic resistance from giants, the speed from werewolves, the durability from vampires. Imbue yourself with permanent versions of pepper up, wit sharpening, and healing potions. Give yourself the holy grail and combine alchemy with Felix Felicis to make yourself permanently, unnaturally lucky (though maybe the effect is reduced.) Strengthen your bones, enhance muscles and healing, make yourself immune to poisons and acids. *Turn yourself into the Terminator. *

There would always be some new thing that witches and wizards could throw at you, but every new trick only works once.

High Fantasy AU setting. The kingdoms of Loegria and Francia, though divided by a channel, have a long and tumultuous history. Both kingdoms have mixed populations of ordinary people, those with magical gifts and magical beings. Recently, there had been a treaty between the two kingdoms, binding them to peace. Yet the duration of the treaty is running out. Neither monarch has any interest in pursuing a war, so they both draft a new treaty and give their mandate to their chosen emissaries. The king of Loegria sends the young Sir Harry, a son of one of his veteran and decorated knights, an apprentice to his court Wizard, the venerable Albus Dumbledore, and recently an assistant to his Chancellor. Sir Harry is a handsome, valiant knight with many a maiden dreaming of ensnaring him with their wiles and many a covetous eye watching the accolades he has already earned. But it is his sharp wits and a keen eye for detail, be it a hidden enchantment or vague wording, that made the king send such a young man. On neutral grounds, Sir Harry meets the Francian envoy, Lady Fleur Delacour, as sharp as she is charming, beautiful as the dawn and of obvious Faerie heritage. A duel of charms and wits ensues where both sides try to finagle more concessions, more advantages for their kingdom. Both of them love their homelands and have no wish for war. As the negotiations go on, a growing respect forms between the two diplomats. Finally, they finish the treaty and send it to their kings. As they await their lieges’ judgement on the results of their work, both envoys talk, learn about each other and become fast friends. Then, the good news arrive! Both kings are happy with the new treaty and have ratified it. And to seal the deal and strengthen the bonds between the two kingdoms, young Sir Harry and Lady Fleur are to be married!A feudal romance, with courtly intrique, plots, seduction, kidnapping attempts! Whatever could fit in!

Summer after PoA

"Boy!"

Harry drops the rake, heading inside to hear what the yelling is all about.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon?"

"Marge can't make it, the dog sitter she hires broke his leg, so we'll be going up to visit her for a few days instead. Now I want no funny business while we're gone, you hear. There'll be a list of chores on the fridge and enough canned food for you to get by."

Later that evening

Laying in bed, Harry can't believe it. The rest of the week, with no Dursleys around. Looking at the sheet of paper in his hand, now if only the Dursleys hadn't left such a ridiculous list of chores for him to do. "I'll be strapped for time getting all of this done, sigh would be great to have a house elf like dobby arou-

"Great Master Harry Potter Sir calls for Dobby??"

"Dobby!?" What are you doing here!?"

"Harry Potter sir be callings for Dobby, Dobby always bes listening for Great Harry Potters call he is"

"Uhm wow, ok then"

Harry looks at list,"Do you think you could help me with this?"

Dobby rips the list from Harry's hand, reads it and speeds off shouting back,"Is be done by morning!"

The next day

"What to do with all this free time?" Calling for the night bus, Harry heads to London for the day, after wondering around, finds his way into an arcade.

He notices a small crowd hovering over two of the racing seats. One seat occupied by a guy around his age, and the other clearly a young woman, though he can't make out her features with the hoodie she is wearing pulled up.

He watches her beat the guy in the race, and overhears a kid say it's the 12th person in a row she's beaten. Harry's inner competitiveness kicks in and he wants a try.

Taking the place of the guy, he puts in the coins, says Hi to the girl, but gets no response. Getting the hint, he looks forward.

The race begins, and even though he's never driven before, the controls are straightforward, and it turns out, broomriding translates well to racing.

They are neck and neck, after a tight chicane, he overtakes her, the group crowding around them gets worked up.

Suddenly feeling really hot, his hair's standing on end, the survival instinct that has gotten him safely out of an acromantula nest and a basilisk is screaming at him, not noticing the heat is coming from the girl next to him. Harry soldiers on, ignoring the subconscious warning.

She is drafting him, on the final stretch she goes for the pass, but he knows this move, seekers do it all the time, using the opponent to take the wind for you, only to slip out and pass. So he shifts to the side and blocks her pass.

He passes the finish line before her. Winning the race.

High on the victory, smiling, he turns his head to speak to his opponent, but his voice gets stuck. She is squeezing the wheel tight enough that her knuckles have gone white.

She's angry.

He hears her speak for the first time.

"AGAIN" Her voice is accented, and even though he can hear the anger, he can't help but think her voice is beautiful.

"uhm, sure", Harry answers her.

He puts the tokens in, and they race again.

It's close, but he beats her.

Clearly it was not a fluke.

"AGAIN" He hears.

They race 3 more times, all of which, Harry comes out on top. The room is getting hotter and hotter.

Harry looks over at her, and for a second could have sworn he saw a feather peaking out of her sleeve.

She stands up and storms off.

"Wait!" Harry calls out after her, but she's already through the crowd, and by the time Harry gets through, she's gone.

Champions arrival, night of the feast

"Blimey Harry, have you had a look at those french birds?"

"Honestly Ronald" Scolds Hermione

Harry looks over to the Ravenclaw table, and notices, one of the French students is staring at him.

She's beautiful.

Hermione calls for Harry's attention. Turning back, he resumes the conversation with them.

Are you wanting the Bouillabaise? Harry hears from behind him.

That voice, he turns back, and even having never seen her face that day, she feels familiar, too familiar.

"Uh, sure, take it" he answers, handing the bowl to her.

Before she walks back.

"Wait, uhm, you wouldn't happen to like racing by any chance?" He asks

She stares at him intensely, almost predatory, he starts feeling hot, really hot. The air is warmer.

She smirks at him, and heads back to the Ravenclaw table.

"What was that about?" Hermione asks looking back and forth at him and the ravenclaw table.

"Nothing" He turns back to his food. Looking down, hiding his smile.

Not for the first time since he left Earth, Harry wondered why the hell he took Nagi's offer to head up the Wizarding contingent of the White Whale.

Sure, not dying with the rest of humanity was a plus, and getting his family out was definitely worthwhile. But even before his getting voluntold into BLADE (which honestly isn't that different on the danger scale from his school days), his planned job wasn't exactly something he was looking forward to.

Lots of paperwork and a very unsubtle suggestion of him fathering a new generation of little wizards, something Fleur was highly amused by and gave her more ammo for encouraging him to take a on a concubine in order to have a proper heir to the Potter line (which is definitely not motivated by his wife's desire for threesomes and any such insinuation will result in playful stinging hexes), not that Harry particularly cared about that. He was perfectly fine with either Teddy or one of the girls taking on the line.

He kept saying the only reason he was working as a member of BLADE instead of his actual job of teaching dueling and defense was to find the pods for his wife and daughters. Only problem was nobody believed it, not his team, not his godson, not his student turned assistant, and most frustrating, not even himself. Hermione in her at times infuriating tendency of always being right, struck gold again. He did have a saving people thing, and when you have millions of souls needing saving, well his damn complex won't let him resist. At least the company is decent, and he's got more backup than Ron and Hermione this time around.

(a fun little prompt of Harry taking the role of Cross from Xenoblade Chronicles X, harem protagonist tendencies included free of charge)

William the Conqueror has just conquered England and Fleur follows her father, the newly titled Baron of Godric’s Hollow to the rainy island. She does not enjoy her new home, surrounded by people who cannot even speak a civilized tongue.

Her one solace that her father allows her is falconry. Her faithful merlin is her best friend, and she brings it on hunts and generally prefers spending time with it compared to the English serfs.

And so it is that she makes the acquaintance with her father’s new falconer, the grandson of the ealdorman of Godric’s Hollow, Hereward, whom she calls Harry for simplicity.

Inspired by the County song Camouflage, which has been covered by Sabaton:

The DoM battle is a lot more chaotic and ends with Harry separated from everyone else and lost in the rooms, which are a lot weirder than canon, including a big indoor forest. There are also way more Death Eaters, although most are cannon fodder rather than Bellatrix come again. Still, Harry ends up surrounded, and, after a chase through the love room, he ends up cornered. It is then that he notices a cloaked figure next to him, who calms his nerves and gives him new courage.

They fight their way through various DoM rooms, but all spells seem to go through the hooded stranger. After hours, they make it to the exit, Harry badly beaten up. When he enters the lift, he notices the stranger stands at the other side of the grate and waves back to him. That's the moment when he recognises Fleur, just as she fades away.

While exploring the Chamber of Secrets, Harry finds an old, ornate box, and inside it, a small blue doll that feels chilly to the touch and intrigues him greatly, for why would Salazar or Tom store something like that. He intends to takes it back to Prof. Dumbledore, until she speaks with him, with a voice he can't help but find alluring. Ranni, as she calls herself, teaches Harry of distant worlds and magic he has never heard of before(not that that's a big feat, given he's still a Second Year), along with the importance of self-determination. Harry knows, especially after the whole thing with the Diary, how dangerous she could be, but unlike the Diary, she feels comforting and seeks only to teach him more about magic and the universe, and how much he didn't know.

Ranni becomes his secret companion, teaching him the mysteries of the Cosmos at the Astronomy Tower under the bright Moonlight, and helping with counsel in his adventures. A year passes, and the Tri-Wizard Tournament is announced. Ranni asks Harry for a favor, to make her a new body she can inhabit and use, one of flesh and blood, and Harry, now somewhat smitten with her and the things she showed him through her magic, agrees. Ranni promises that together, they can travel the Cosmos and be free, for he has the potential to stand at her side.

Fleur Delacour arrives at Hogwarts with two main goals, win the Tri-Wizard and bring glory to herself and her School, and, as a Maiden of the Golden Order, find the next Elden Lord that was said to reside in this very school and bring them to the service of the Greater Will, so her family can finally return home and restore what was broken.

Prompt: Harry and Fleur got together anytime before the Battle of Hogwarts.

Fleur Veela-bonded to Harry. As a result and unbeknown to him her life is now linked to his. So when he dies taking Voldemort’s killing curse in the forest, she dies too. And she is the one meeting him on Platform 9¾ (instead of Dumbledore). What will they say to each other?

Someone should write a fic where Harry and Fleur playfully debate over British and French food. While on a date or something I can’t see Fleur ever arguing for English food...imagine if for whatever reason she craves it while pregnant or something

“Ze babe, she wants your shitty British food ‘Arry!”

Harry staying up late making Yorkshire puddings. I feel like she'd be affectionately rude to the baby if it did that. Just like

'It's okay this time. You don't know any better. Once you are born we will have no more of this nonsense'

“Zis food is still barbaric ’Arry, but I shall eat it for ze baby”

And then she finally has the baby and she finds she still craves all the ridiculous British food she does it in secret through Harry finds her doing a fry up at 2 am one morning.

Harry knew all along of course, He’s just sitting in bed smirking thinking “I win” What greater victory is there then converting a French culturally? Especially someone like Fleur, Who would sooner shave and eat her own hair Then ever admit to liking English food

The war turned nasty with casualties mounting on both sides. It took much manoeuvring on both sides, much grief caused and many friends lost, but now the final battle has come. Voldemort had them cornered, besieged at Hogwarts. They held out, but the Dark Lord did what he did best, using a mysterious Curse, engulfing the castle in a sinister miasma. The defenders seemed to waste away and decompose and they started falling one by one. A desperate research followed and Hermione in a rush developed an enchantment to stop the spread of the unknown Curse. The Defenders knew they were under some form of surveillance, but they also knew they couldn’t hold out against another attack of such magnitude. So they used the surveillance against Voldemort, arranging a trap for him, making it seem that all the defenders fell.

Voldemort and his Death Eaters took the bait and entered the castle. While the Dark Lord strode confidently on, the Death Eaters seemed unnerved as they walked through the hallway with dead, decomposing bodies lining the walls.

Then to their horror their enemies who held out for so long, having mercilessly cut scores of them down, suddenly revived. The dead bodies stirred, standing up and attacking with unmatched ferocity. The fury of the attack was such that the Death Eaters, who actually outnumbered the defenders, panicked and either fell or ran away.

Yet even that fighting could not compare to the ferocious exchange between Voldemort and the leader of the defenders, Harry Potter. Like lightning in a storm, blazing, sizzling curses crossed the room between them, both combatants sporting numerous wounds now. Despite being hit by numerous curses, Harry bares his teeth in a predatory grimace. Harry won’t surrender, no and increases the speed and ferocity of his casting, striking fear into his foe. Finally, Voldemort falls to his knees, his hands clutching his throat, as he gurgles, drowning in his own blood.

“Curse you, Harry Potter!” He hisses and breathes his last. His magic, following the Dark Lord’s last wish, blasts Harry and he collapses too. He is rushed to the Hospital Wing, with Fleur Delacour, his right hand, at his side. The healers fight to save his life from the horrifying mixture of curses he was with. The fight is long, yet the healers persevere, bringing Harry from the brink several times. They remove and disentangle the curses one by one and manage to save Harry. Most of him. It pains Fleur in a way she struggles to comprehend as she watches the healers amputate both of Harry’s legs below the knees.

Finally, days later, as Fleur is waiting by Harry’s bedside, still recovering from her own wounds, Harry stirs and opens his eyes. In a flash, Fleur holds his hand and exclaims her joy. Harry seems confused, however.

“F-Fleur?” his voice rasps, “Why can’t I see you?”

"Fleur, please. I need you."

She cupped Harry's face tenderly.

"Me too. An eternity without you will kill me slowly. But zis is my duty, as a Veela."

The resignation across her face brings on another bout of Harry's tears.

With a final kiss to his cheek she bursts into a stream of light, so bright that Harry needs to cover his eyes. When the light fades and the colors of the world dull, she's nowhere to be found.

Veela are descendants of Chroneia (female Chronus?), the goddess of time. They are her warriors and protectors, tasked on their 19th birthday to weave through time protecting and healing rifts where time, in all it's chaos, is not enough to control for a single goddess.

But Harry, Harry Potter is not just going to let his love gallivant through time without him.

Despite emerging victorious from the Second Wizarding War, defeating Voldemort, and finding love, it seems that happily ever after was never in the cards for Harry and Fleur. Bill went first, taken by a complicated trap in a former Romanian manor house Gringotts had acquired out of foreclosure. Ginny followed not six months later, brought down by a freak training accident that left the whole Quidditch community in shock. Now, two years on, the life of a single parent has taken its toll on Harry and Fleur.

The Weasley and Delacour families are nothing but supportive to the widowed parents and their six children (all the canon children), but they all have their own lives to manage on top of helping with childcare. Molly is slowing down; Arthur is in line for a promotion at the Ministry; Ron and Hermione are wrangling their own brood of even younger children.

Out of necessity, Harry and Fleur begin covering for each other whenever work gets in the way of running the household. Fleur turned to Harry the first time out of absolute necessity after all of her usual sources of help were unable to help. After that,

The children love the attention of a second parent and the new company. Hurried afternoon Floo calls asking for help quickly become requests for playdates and sleepover, and soon the children, and by extension, Harry and Fleur, are spending every weekend together. Somehow, a household with six children and two parents runs much smoother than one with three children with one parent.

With this newfound stability and companionship, Harry and Fleur finally start to come out of survival mode. The loss of a spouse and the life of a single parent had left both of them to push their own needs aside for too long, and as they finally start to get their heads back above water for the first time since their spouse's death, they find comfort in each other and the new life they share. Soon, this comfort turns into shared interest, and then further deepens into romance.

Featuring (Things Astro would include if writing this story)

• Healthy grief and coping mechanisms
• Harry and Fleur remembering that they, too, deserve happiness and that they do not have to sacrifice everything for their children.
• Single parents coming out of survival mode to rediscover old hobbies they used to love (Quidditch for Harry) and discovering new ones (Muggle ice skating for Fleur)
• The children viewing Fleur and Harry as New Mom/New Dad well before the couple actually admits their feelings to each other.
• Lots of scenes displaying character and relationship development for the Potter and Delacour children.

"You came back, and you brought floods... Wearing a necklace made of hearts that you dragged through the mud. And I guess I wasn't quite sure what to say to you...

But then I saw mine, almost reached out to grab it. Said: "Darling, you're the only one on Earth I want to have it." But... now I'm not so sure that that was true, After the hell you put it through.

But, there was no sharp pain this time Just the ghost of your presence compressing my chest like a vine. An unshakeable absence Like most of my insides crawled out through my mouth and went west. But that's fine.

We cast our hearts in plaster. We imagined our bodies were fashioned from stone but They chipped at the brick and the mortar We found out that we're only layers of skin hiding bone."

Bury Your Flame - La Dispute

Wreck my world fam, somebody give me a sadboi one-shot from this

A different version of the Hypnotherapist Fleur prompt:

Fleur and Bill never got married. After the war, Fleur has become a prominent mind healer/ magical therapist. Harry's never quite recovered from the war. after a lot of pressuring, his friends convince him to ask her for therapy. He does, and Fleur agrees, always willing to help her friend. From showing up at her practice, till the time he's on the couch, and throughout the initial warmup session, Fleur keeps 'accidentally' teasing him (the sexual kind). This, combined with her natural beauty and the innuendo laced conversation means that by the time the session fully gets into swing, Harry's turned on and frustrated. Fleur suggests hypnotherapy because Harry doesnt really know how to open up about his problems. Harry reluctantly agrees. Fleur puts him under, and asks a few questions.

"What is your name?"

"Harry James Potter"

"How old are you?"

"Twenty five"

"What do you want to do most at the moment?"

"Pick you up, bend you over the couch, and fuck you into a sexual coma."

Fleur blinked.