Hey all, the promised epilogue has arrived! Just a fluffy little ending to make sure you guys know that Harry and Fleur live happily ever after, I was thinking about going into more detail, but tbh, my new fic has been taking up most of my creative efforts these days.
Speaking of the new fic, by the time you read this, the first chapter for A Cure for Apathy will be out! For more information, check out my profile or the AN at the end of the previous chapter, it's some good stuff.
Anyway, here is the ebullient, effervescent encore to Dancing in the Rain!
Epilogue: Thirty Years Later
The idyllic countryside of the Rhône valley seemed to sing in harmony with the sky. Lush green grass sprawled over hills as far as the eye could see, only broken by the occasional homey cottage, and the majestic French Alps on the far edge of the horizon, and the rushing waters of the river that gave the area its name. This splendid view was framed by floor to ceiling windows in a particular cozy manor where a well-loved family made their home.
Harry Potter stood in his kitchen, stretching and groaning as satisfying pops and cracks traveled down the length of his neck and back. He vaguely remembered being able to hop out of bed and take on the day with vigor, but that was before he had children to contend with, let alone the other members of his strange extended family.
These days, the early mornings were his sanctuary, the precious half-hour of silence a godsend, and his pour-over coffee a cleansing ritual.
Coffee. He needed coffee.
Harry ambled over to the island countertop in the middle of his kitchen to where his prized equipment was stored. He meticulously weighed out freshly roasted, fragrantly fruity coffee beans into his muggle-made grinder, and a low buzz filled the room as they ground. While waiting for his beans, he set up his glass carafe and copper filter and brought his water to a boil with a wave of his wand.
Within moments his coffee had ground to the perfect consistency, he weighed out his boiling water to the requisite ratio and began pouring the steady stream that was necessary to ensure the ideal level of extraction. He closed his eyes and sighed as the smell of brewing coffee wafted up and embraced him, almost akin to a lover, but he figured that his wife would take exception to being compared to a beverage.
It was true that he could have easily automated this process completely with magic, but there was something soothing about taking each step slowly and appreciating the process of making the perfect cup of coffee.
When his mug had been filled with dark amber nectar, he carried it out the side door of his home and sat on a comfy loveseat on his patio and breathed in the fresh spring air, enjoying the warmth of the rising sun.
His mug was nearly empty and the sun had fully peeked over the snow-capped mountains when he heard the door behind him open and a familiar voice spoke.
"Good morning, my love." The French language that he had mastered decades ago was a melody that fit their surroundings.
He felt nimble fingers run through his hair, down the stubble of his cheek and chin before his vision was obscured by soft, blond hair. Fleur Potter lay a kiss on her husband's head before circling around the couch and nestling herself into his side.
"Good morning, love. Are the girls up yet?"
"No, it's just us for now. Who knows how long that will last, though," Fleur said with a giggle.
Harry wrapped an arm around her, bringing his lips to her temple, "Good, it's about time I have my beautiful wife to myself."
Fleur pushed him away playfully, "Hands off, you barbarian! I still have not forgiven you for making a scene at the last Dance of the Sky."
Harry groaned, "That's completely unfair, you were the one who pinned me to the ground in the first place!"
Fleur sniffed and Harry was reminded of the haughty façade that had so captivated him when they were teenagers, "That was to show the other members of our coven their place. They may benefit from the gift of your magic, but there are some gifts that only I am entitled to."
Harry ran his hand through Fleur's hair soothingly, "Well I think the Szélhívó clan will think twice before trying to usurp your position in any case."
"They had better, just because they are new to the coven and ignorant of our laws does not mean that they can get away with trying to steal my mate." Fleur fumed, but she succumbed to the ministrations of Harry's deft fingers and laid her head on his shoulder.
For the most part, Fleur had been well respected for years as the de facto leader of the Veela nation. Her word carried weight and the devotion that the couple had shown each other inspired admiration and respect among her people.
That did not mean that some upstart individuals or even clans would not try to vie for Harry's attention every once in a while, but Fleur was always quick to put them in their place. Politics was a cutthroat game, especially when sex was an essential part of their culture and Harry's presence was so coveted.
Harry gazed into the sky as he held his wife, and he could not help but remember the first Dance of the Sky thirty years previous. Fleur's grandmother had spent months spreading the word among the scattered remnants of the grand coven of Veela.
Some had come with jubilation as the first sky elemental in decades called them together. Many more had come with guarded expectations and suspicion, not yet willing to believe that their wait was truly over. A majority had chosen not to come at all, fearful of another trap or having given up hope long ago.
He had been so nervous, he remembered fondly. By that point, he had communed with the sky many times and could remain in control of his powers with ease, yet it was a different matter entirely to share that power with others.
" It will come naturally, 'Arry. Zat much is clear in Papa's diaries. My people will dance and be merry, letting our magic run wild and free. You will bless us by accepting it for yourself and passing it back to us in a show of trust. You see many with zis power would take our magic and hoard it, using it to control us. You on ze other 'and will be our conduit, our guide to accepting the sky's magic as it passes through you."
" Fay. I get that part, but what is it that I actually do?"
Fay Celine's bell-like laughter rang, and Harry could not help but be soothed, "I am not sure about ze specifics either, silly boy. But I do know zat our magic will find a way."
She had been right of course. They had come together in the ancestral home of the Veela, the enchanted forests of northern Bulgaria, and they had danced. The ritual itself had been a blur of emotions and sensations as Harry found himself surrounded by hundreds of beautiful beings of pure magic.
They wove in and out of trees to the rhythm of their joined energies, not wholly in control of their own actions and somehow in touch with each other on a transcendent level. Harry himself meditated above his body, witnessing with awe the scene below before the rhythm had taken him as well and he found himself following instinct.
It had been simply incredible, and time flew by in waves of laughter and color. One by one, the veela had become angels in every sense of the word and their connection to the sky had been reestablished.
Of course, many of the Veela had been extremely thankful for the experience and wished to have the sky elemental for themselves, but most had backed off when Harry had declared on no uncertain terms that Fleur was his partner and their coven leader.
As word spread of the miracle that had been achieved, the number of Veela who attended the annual ritual had grown every year and the coven had prospered. Harry smiled as he gazed at the azure sky, pride filling his heart at what they had accomplished together.
A voice drew him from his memories and Harry focused on his wife, who was looking at him with exasperation.
"Welcome back, Harry. Just because you are one with the sky does not mean you have to live with your head in the clouds, you know."
Harry snorted, "How many times must you use that joke, love?"
"Until the meaning behind it gets through your thick skull." Fleur looked down her nose at him but could not help her lips from quivering into a half-smile.
"You know, I was having such a lovely morning before you joined me out here and started insulting me."
"Oh, I am so sorry, I forget that my husband has such a fragile ego. What ever shall I do to make it up to you?" Her eyes gleamed with the hidden challenge in her seemingly innocuous statement. It was clear that she wanted him to prove her wrong.
Harry rolled his eyes, "Don't look at me like that. We both know what happens when you try to goad me into these little contests."
Fleur smirked mischievously, "But my dear husband, I love getting under your skin. And I know you love it too," by the end of her sentence she had lowered her voice to a purr.
Harry shivered despite himself, "Unfair, Fleur."
His wife would not be denied, however. She walked two of her fingers down his chest coyly, " ' Oh Arry, do you remember the night we spent on the beach in Greece?"
"Fleur…"
"Or the morning we spent in that cozy cabin in the Black Forest?"
"Fleur, the girls..."
She leaned over and whispered oh so quietly in his ear, "Or that week after your storm won the war, my conquering hero?"
Having had enough, Harry grabbed a handful of his wife's hair and pulled her into a fiery embrace, delighting at the way she melted into him, how she whimpered oh so slightly as he nibbled at her lip. Even after so many years every kiss like this felt earth-shaking and right.
When they separated, Harry spoke in a hoarse whisper, eyes fogged over in restrained emotion, "My love, we don't have much time before the girls are up and you already pushed me away earlier this morning." His voice hardened and his eyes sparked, hinting at the incredible power that hid beneath the surface. " Make up your mind ."
It was Fleur's turn to shiver, but she did not hesitate, "My mind is made up, you foolish man." She stood and pulled him to his feet, her eyes twin blazing blue fires.
Harry did not need any more convincing and he gathered his wife in his arms and burst the door to their home open with a mere look, leaving only an empty coffee mug and distant giggles as evidence that they had been there in the first place.
The Potter household had settled in for the evening. Harry's oldest three daughters, Lily, Celeste, and Abeille, were attending Hogwarts. His youngest, Eloise and Aster, remained home with Harry and Fleur.
Though Harry had been sure that they would all be carbon copies of their mother, and indeed they all had inherited the magical blonde hair that their race was known for, they still had some Potter genes in them as well. Lily and Abeille had his green eyes, Aster had his nose and mouth, and he swore that Eloise and Celeste had been born with knobbier knees than usual.
He was curious to see if any of them would manifest any of his powers, but so far they had been perfectly normal Veela children, if a little predisposed to adventure. Moreover, they knew that true power lay in the fact that their father would bend over backwards and move the world for them.
Harry sat at his desk in his study writing a terse letter to the ICW, as he was concerned about vocal bigoted minorities in many countries gaining traction. There had been several isolated acts of violence, but no widespread movements had occurred. It seemed the pendulum of progress would sway back to a more liberal position in time, but it was still best to stay alert when it was his people on the line.
He was interrupted from his writing when the door to his study creaked open and the pitter-patter of little footsteps made their way towards him. His youngest daughters approached bashfully.
"Papa? Are you still busy?" Eloise had a well-worn scrapbook in her hands.
"Yeah, Papa, we want you to tell us a story!" Little four-year-old Aster had her hands on her hips as she stomped the ground impatiently with her foot.
Eloise held out the scrapbook, "And show us the pictures too. Please, Papa?"
Harry lay down his quill and regarded them with a doting smile, "Don't you girls get tired of listening to your old Papa tell the same stories over and over?"
Two voices rang out, "Nooooo!"
Eloise continued excitedly, "Tell us the story about how you made friends with the scary dragon and beat Mama in the big contest!"
Aster disagreed, "No, no, no! Tell us about how, umm, how you made the big lightning go BOOM and you beat the bad snake man!" She accentuated her words with a clap of her tiny hands.
"Ooh I love the evil snake wizard story, but you have to tell it outside, Papa, the story works best when we go outside!"
"And around the fire! Spooky stories need a campfire!"
Harry raised an eyebrow, "Are you sure my angels? The evil snake man story is really scary and I don't want you to have nightmares."
Astor crossed her arms, "He's not that scary, Papa. You just don't wanna tell the story."
Apparently the most powerful, evil dark lord of the past century, the wizard that had an entire nation afraid to say his name, did not impress his four-year-old daughter. Spiders on the other hand..,
"Alright, alright, you win. Up we go, girls." He gathered his two daughters in his arms, wincing as they screamed with delight in his ears.
Harry joined Fleur in their bedroom after he had put their daughters to bed and he breathed a sigh of relief as he sank into bed.
Fleur looked up from the book she was reading and gave him a smile, "I heard the thunder and the rain, don't tell me they got you to tell them the Voldemort story again. "
"Of course they did. Don't worry, they still don't know all the details, but Eloise is getting to the age where she's asking more questions."
Fleur nodded, "Just like the others. Do you remember when Lily found out about the Harry Potter section in her History of Magic syllabus?"
Harry laughed, of course he did. She had come home during winter break screaming about how the evil snake man was real and how Papa was a hero.
"The history books got so many things wrong, you know. They barely mention you at all." He settled into a comfortable position and wrapped an arm around his wife, sighing as she laid her head on his chest.
He felt her voice vibrate against him, "You know that I care little for that type of fame, love. I have my hands full with the coven as it is."
Harry ran his fingers through Fleur's hair and closed his eyes, a contented weariness overtaking him as he yawned. "Still, maybe I should tell the full story one of these days, set the record straight."
Fleur yawned herself, "You do that love, if it makes you feel better."
"Maybe I will." Harry opened his eyes one last time before falling asleep and thought about how little an impact Voldemort had actually made on his life past his teenage years.
There had been many more roles that he had played that he was much prouder of; he had fostered the revival of an entire race of magical beings, helped raise five wonderful daughters, and been the partner of the most incredible woman on the planet. Sure, he had also been a war hero, and in the end, that was the part of his life that the public was obsessed with. One day, he might just give an account of what happened those many years ago, but for now he was happy to let their imagination run free as he enjoyed life with his true loves. He closed his eyes.
Harry Potter and Fleur Delacour fell asleep together as they had many nights before and it would be many, many years before either would have to worry about sleeping alone. They were happy.
That's all she wrote folks! My first fic completed, I have many thanks to dole out, mostly to the folks at the Flowerpot server as they continue to be the sweet honeysuckle that nourishes my writing spirit! x102reddragon, Honorversefan, and foreal26 in particular have helped me so much with this fic and my next one too.
I will say to those who want more out of this universe that I am considering adding various oneshots to further flesh out the narrative, but that will be on a motivation basis and I'm not promising anything any time soon. My focus is going to be on my new story, but I can see a point where I'm going to need to escape to a more light-hearted and cute world every now and then so stay tuned!
Thank you for those who reviewed, followed, and favorited, you are the bees that pollinate this little community garden of the internet. Alright, alright, enough with the corny lovey dovey stuff, I'm getting it all out of my system because A Cure for Apathy is dark, it's gritty, and it's got a premise that I'm so excited to bring into fruition. Hope to see you guys over there too, lots of love to you all!
IMPORTANT NOTE 5/29
Many who have been keeping up with my writing, as well as others familiar with the Flowerpot presence on this site, should be aware of a collection of stories called the Emily Collection. In essence, some of the writers on the Flowerpot server were inspired to write fluffy fanfiction in honor of a young woman with bone cancer named Emily, and it is in fact for this reason that I began writing in the first place.
I am ashamed to announce that Emily does not exist. There was a person on our server that wished for a little extra attention for himself and fabricated the entire story. He had said that he worked in a hospital with Emily, but his suspicious behavior led to an internal investigation that found that this person was not who he said he was.
As you can imagine, our community was extremely disappointed and very angry at this deception, but what is important here is that you guys who have been loyally following this collection knows the truth. I'm sorry that I was a part of this deception. It brought me genuine joy to think that I was writing something for a good cause, and the fact that it was all fake was not the easiest news for me to hear.
Regardless, I am happy for the joy that my writing has brought you, and the community I'm a part of is very proud of the work that we have put forth, even if the cause ended up being fraudulent. In order to keep the spirit of this collection alive, we have decided to rename it the Hope Collection. We are dedicating it to the people in the fanfiction community who have struggled with the effects of COVID-19 and cancer in the hopes that there are people like Emily out there who exist and that our work brings them joy as well. Emily may not exist, but there are thousands in her position, and some of them may even like Harry Potter fanfiction. And we celebrate them even if we do not know their names.
Thank you for sticking with me thus far, if you have any questions about the Hope Collection, my dms are always open.