Flowerpot

She wrapped her arms around his neck to deepen their kiss. There was no taste of fruit as he'd been led to believe, save the brief glimmer of wine at her lips. She tasted of Fleur Delacour. She tasted unique - like no one ever would.

It was addictive, and when she pushed for more, he obliged. Her tongue peeking from her lips into his own, a delicate dance that sparked something within the pair. Their bodies ground together in an almost desperate fashion, trying to nurse the flame in their lips to beat back the freezing cold.

She was fire made flesh, beauty made ethereal and love made magic, and in that moment, she was a goddess to be worshipped.

They soon broke for air, leaning their foreheads against the other; their heavy breath made his heart race all the faster.

Her body and soul enraptured him, every so often he'd reach up to steal her lips once more, or she'd press down upon him, reigniting the flame - the duel of desire.

Then, they'd return to staring into the eyes of the other. He finally allowed himself to be fully submerged in the ocean depths to see her heart and soul beyond.

She was not Fleur Delacour. She was not the Veela, nor the Triwizard Tournament Competitor. She was not the woman of wit that had been a godsend to him, nor the enigma that he could never decipher.

She was his.

And he was hers.

Even if it was just for a night, it was enough. Even if the war would strip him of whatever he had left, he had this.

"Because of you," Harry said. He didn't look at her, turning his eyes to the night sky. He could almost count the stars. One, two, three…

"Why am I upsetting you, Harry?" Fleur asked. Same soft tone. But decisive. Fearless. He envied her and hated her and wanted her in that moment, a confusing miasma of emotion that made his extremities tingle, like a panicked flight-or-fight response.

"Because I love you," Harry said.

There was a second where it seemed that the entire night had gone still, the stars had been extinguished, and the world reduced to their small shared space on the top of the Burrow. Harry turned on his side to look at Fleur. He didn't want to, but he had to know what she was thinking.

Harry wasn't sure what he had been expecting. Surprise, perhaps. Discomfort. Maybe, if this were a dream, happiness.

There was nothing but a unobtrusive sadness. Not exactly pity, but close enough that Harry felt the slightest pang of frustration. Pity was the worst of it. He could stand for anything but Fleur's pity.

"I'm engaged, Harry," Fleur said.

(Fleur was engaged. Fleur was engaged to his best friend's brother.)

He hadn't revealed the whole of himself, the most vulnerable, terrible, inner thoughts he had only to be turned away by such an insufficient statement. A true statement, but too clunky and meaningless to stop him.

"That doesn't mean anything," Harry said. He kept calm, divorced himself from any petulance or fear. He wasn't a child. He could talk to Fleur without sounding like one.

"Engagement doesn't mean anything?" Fleur asked.

"You've teased me, flirted with me. Nothing you do is unintentional. You drank with me, stripped in front of me, taught me, learned from me; we've spent more time together in the last couple of months than with anyone else. You've told me things about yourself that you've never told anyone and asked me things I've never told anyone before. So you can't just say, 'I'm engaged,' as if that settles things. It doesn't mean anything."

Fleur was meeting his gaze, but Harry thought he saw some indecision. Some hesitance which prevented her from saying what she thought she should say.

"We're friends, Harry. Friends share things with each other; even tease each other sometimes," Fleur said.

"Not like you did with me. You can't just pretend that any of that was trivial," Harry said.

"Why are you pushing this?" Fleur asked.

"Because you haven't said that you don't care about me," Harry said.

He found her hands wrapped up in the sleeves of her robes, extracting them with a coaxing gentleness and brushing his fingertips against the knuckles, and then down to the tips. He threaded his fingers through hers and she complied. His hand was freezing, even to him, but she accepted it.

He gained strength and courage through pushing forward. "I love you, Fleur. And I can't pretend that I know exactly what you feel for me, but you wouldn't have done all of that with me, trusted me like you did, if you felt nothing," Harry said.

It hurt her not to be in control. She was as shaken as he had ever seen, like a ship that was slowing being tilted on its axis until it would crash into the deafening waves below. She was cracking and he was watching her and helping to push her closer to the edge.

Theirs was not an equal relationship. Harry knew that. She was older, beautiful, smarter, even more articulate than he was. He needed her more than she needed him. But that didn't mean she didn't need him.

"Look where we are, Harry. Look what you're trying to get me to say," Fleur said.

"I love you," Harry said. She didn't say anything so he repeated himself.

A pause.

"I can't say that back, Harry. But I love being around you. I love spending time with you," Fleur said.

Harry squeezed her hand. It wasn't what he wished for, but it was more than he had any right to expect

Fleur made up the distance between them, letting herself rest against him, her body tangling carelessly with his.

"You're a bastard," Fleur said.

Harry tilted her head up. He didn't have to hide his delight in her anymore. When he kissed her, she kissed him back.

It was better than he had expected. The softness, the warmth, that he had been able to anticipate.

The feeling behind it, the tenderness of emotion, was something he couldn't have imagined. It had to be experienced.

"Guess I'm not as bad as you keep saying," Harry said.

"Just stop talking," Fleur said. Her voice was muffled as she leaned her face against Harry's chest. He could feel her breath against his robes.

Harry knew they would have to talk soon. Things needed to be said, boundaries established, their relationship elaborated upon. But for the moment he was content.

He hadn't ever thought it possible that he would have Fleur curled up against him. It had never been more than a painful dream and now that it was a reality Harry could say that he had never been happier. It was a cliché, a phrase that had been trammeled to death before he was even born, but now Harry understood why it was used. A cliché that came close to expressing the ineffability of love was a precious thing.

How could they encompass the flutter of eyelashes as she drew in close, the rush of cinnamon-laced air, and the warmth of her skin on his?

Thoughts were burned away by the heat of it, leaving nothing but her in his mind.

It was over far too soon.

She pulled back, her shy intimate smile lifting rosy cheeks. His own mouth worked uselessly as he stared at the smile; at lips that quirked even higher into a grin.

"I am flattered that our first kiss is enough to leave you speechless," she teased, tucking a stray hair back behind her ear. She took a distractingly deep breath. "I am sorry for surprising you with it though."

"I-it's fine," he forced himself to say through the haze.

How were you supposed to ask for more kisses? Was that allowed?

“I hope one day you tell me everything,” Harry said, his own eyes dropping to look at the fullness of her lips.

Their eyes met, and then dipped closed as they crossed the distance. She kissed him, and he kissed her. Her lips soft against his, overwhelming him. His, in turn, taking hers.

He could feel nothing other than Fleur in that moment. Her hand upon his job, her fingers gently running through his hair, the wonderful warmth of her touch.

The sensation was beyond anything Harry had ever known. He wanted to live within it forever.

She smiled against his lips, then, separating only that she could speak, their eyes still closed, too lost in one-another for anything else.

“One day, ‘Arry,” Fleur said, and his name on her lips felt like a kiss on its own. “I will.”

Quickly throwing on his coat, Harry grabbed Fleur and dragged her outside. It was close, but she at least managed to grab the enchanted cloak. Very soon they stood out, surrounded by quiet darkness, the steam of their breath rising to the starry sky. And then Harry was pointing upwards. She looked alongside his arm and… There!

"Let us make a wish, 'Arry."

They both bowed their heads. What the young couple wished, they would never divulge, yet they never needed to, their shared smiles and warmth in their rings were always enough to quell any questions.

However, it was getting late and Fleur shivered slightly. It was getting very cold, after all.

"Ah, the magic 'as run out, mon cœur." She shivered theatrically again. "The cloak is now quite cold."

"How fortunate then," Harry quipped with a smirk, "that I have another way to warm you up, darling."

And having said that, Harry lifted her chin with his left hand and snaked his right hand around her hips. The kiss that followed, while not involving fireworks, had a magic of its own. Her arms flew around his neck and she melted in his embrace.

Tenderness, passion, love, all those and more Harry put into the single kiss. And Fleur knew and understood, she accepted his feelings for her, accepted the heart he offered her with open hands. And she put forth her own, her heart, her love, her passion.

And their passion indeed grew, just as the air around them grew warmer. And akin to the moon and stars, there was light on the Earth, the glow brought forth by her husband's love and meant for his eyes only. Her silhouette changed too, silvery feathers, luminescent in the dark, covered her arms, even her hair, Veela's pride, changed into the glorious plumage.

And finally, a radiant pair of silvery wings, resembling the imagery of celestial messengers, emerged from her back, covered in soft, elegant feathers. And like her arms, the wings too enveloped her husband, obscuring the pair from view.

However, as every good thing, even this kiss had to come to an end. And so, very reluctantly, the pair separated for a bit, very definitely out of breath. Harry's eyes grew wide. It wasn't the first time he beheld Fleur's wings and he had noticed subtle differences about them. When Fleur had transformed one time in the middle of a battle, her wings had been sleek, the feathers razor sharp. And in the privacy of their bedroom, in the throes of passion, her wings were silvery tinted with red, the feathers softer than silk.

Now, however, Fleur stood before him bearing a pair of wings larger, more radiant and softer than he had ever seen. With a wondrous expression and at Fleur's indulgent smile, he softly petted the wing, marvelling at the gentle touch, at the warmth and radiance.

Seeing his awed expression, she went on to gently explain. "You know, mon cœur, that our wings change to fit the emotion that brought forth the change."

He could only nod, still struck dumb by the heavenly sight of his wife.

"Then it is only natural that when brought forth by my 'usband, my wings would be unique, non?"

Had his heart not already belonged to her, the smile she gifted him with at that moment would have melted it and stolen it away in an instant. Brighter than the sun and tender beyond compare, her smile brought tears in his eyes, the same tears he had shed when he had seen her in her wedding dress. What else could he do than rush into her embrace again? Dimly, he was aware that they now stood on dry ground, in a circle of melted snow, but his attention was entirely focused on the divine being whose arms encircled his neck again.

"This is nice, mon cœur," She murmured into his ear, "but you promised me warmth." Now she winked at him. "This was a good start, but a good 'usband finishes what 'e starts, non?"

And with those words Fleur Potter proceeded to drag her husband into the cottage and into their cosy bedroom.

Harry nodded, offered his arm and led her from the room onto the grounds. A temporary garden had been set up at the front of the castle and was full of students; some talking, others exploring other activities that Professor Snape was doing his best to put a stop to.

Not wanting to involve them in what was unfolding, they walked and came upon the lake a few moments later. Noticing her shiver, he cast a warming charm and conjured several balls of fire that glided around them in a circle.

"Thank you," she said gratefully, the smile she gave him nervous once more.

Seeing no reason to stand on ceremony, Harry took her hand and began leading her in circles amongst the flames, the two of them much more relaxed without the eyes of others on them.

Enjoying the moment, she rested her head on his shoulder, as had become habit when they had been dancing for a long period of time during their practices and sighed contentedly.

She didn't know how long they remained by the water, but no words were spoken, not that such a thing was necessary. She was happy being where she was, warmed by both the flower and his embrace, the chill of the night no longer bothering her.

"It's almost midnight," Harry mumbled in her ear.

Fleur sighed as she raised her head, noticing that felt heavier than normal. Never had she enjoyed something so simple, so much, to where she had relaxed so easily with someone she did not share blood with.

"I'll walk you back to your carriage," he offered.

His arm remained around her shoulders as they walked in the comfortable silence and she allowed herself to melt into his warmth, the orbs of flame that followed them all but ignored. When they reached her temporary home, he released her, and she turned and pulled him into her arms without thought.

"Thank you, 'Arry. For coming with me tonight, for the flower and just…everything."

"You're welcome," he replied.

She looked up and her eyes locked onto his. She froze, the emerald inferno impossible to pull away from as she had feared only a few short hours ago. They were entrancing, working a magic of their own as they drew her deeper into him. It was as though she was no longer in control as she felt her lips press against his, the magic still clouding her mind even after she had closed her own eyes.

She felt him return the gesture, and it was too late for them both. She melted into him, craving him more than the air she would need were she to be submerged into the murkiest depths, only breaking away when her head began to spin from the lightness.

She took in a staggered breath, refusing to end the moment by opening her eyes to the world around her.

"Goodnight, Fleur," she heard him mutter.

By the time she was brave enough to seek him out, he was already halfway back to the castle and entered soon after without sparing her a backwards glance.

Sobering, she felt her heart sink.

"Merde, what have I done?"

'I stand by what I said.' Curiosity stirred in Harry. 'I didn't feel too much before. Maybe a little bit earlier, I think.'

'Focus on me,' Fleur commanded.

Harry nodded.

Fleur's summer sky blue eyes shone bright beneath a veil of lustrous, silver-blond hair. Her pale, rose-pink lips curved into a soft, warm smile.

Something lurched Harry's chest. She's so beautiful. He tried to drag his eyes away from her lips, but failed. The warmth of her skin burnt like a flame, only a hand's length away. Well, I'm clearly not as resistant as either of us thought.

'What do you feel?' she asked.

'I've no idea how I didn't notice you from the very beginning.' The words slipped off his tongue as smooth as silver. 'You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen.'

Fleur stared; a small, bemused smile hovered at the corner of her lips.

Green strands of leaves twisted their way down from around the candles. The sweet smell of hot leaves joined the perpetual scent of burnt holly that clung to Fleur. Their emerald-hued, droplet shapes surrounded a scatter of white berries.

Mistletoe. Harry's heart dashed itself against his ribs and his mouth turned dry. Fleur's in control of the room.

His eyes flicked down from the candles and mistletoe to the girl whose thoughts they mirrored. Her eyes were a finger's length from his. Her flushed face so close the tip of her nose brushed his. Fleur pressed her lips against his. Her lashes fluttered against his cheek. Wine and sugar melted on his taste buds, then the tip of her tongue traced the line of his lower lip and he lost track of everything else.

Fleur pulled back, then stood. Her lips curved into a small, soft smile. 'Goodbye, Harry,' she murmured.

The door swung shut with a faint thud. Harry stared up as the candles faded and the mistletoe curled back up into the shadows of the ceiling. His heart hammered loud as thunder and a small smile crept onto his lips. The ice statues melted away into the floor.

'Bye, Fleur,' he whispered.

"I'd like that." He muttered quietly making her smile at him. The two settled into a comfortable silence as they watched the ripples forming in the water.

"I wish I'd gotten to know you earlier." Fleur said softly after a while. "So many zings could 'ave been different."

"Different?" She turned to look at him.

"Yes." She murmured. "Different. Better...Don't you zink?" She asked in a whisper. He suddenly realized her hand was in his. When did she get so close to him?

His breath caught in his chest when he found her staring intently at him. He realized then that their faces were only inches apart from each other and he found himself unable to tear his eyes away from hers. Her eyes fluttered shut as they got nearer and Harry had almost closed his eyes when at that moment, a voice tore through the silence.

"Fleur? You there?" It was Amy's voice and they both immediately turned away from each other, blushing furiously. Harry inwardly groaned, what was he thinking? He had almost kissed her! Unable to look at Fleur in the eye he looked away. Moments later Amy, Caroline and Aurélie appeared from the side.

"There you are! And hey Harry! When did you get here?" Caroline asked brightly, unaware of the blushes that were covering both their faces.

"Some time ago." He mumbled.

"We're starving, come on you two." Amy said and Harry nodded, getting to his feet. After hesitating for a second he held out his hand to Fleur who was still on the ground and almost sighed in relief when she accepted it and allowed him to pull her to her feet. The others set off in towards the castle but Harry shifted nervously on his feet.

"Erm, Fleur?...sorry, I err…." He didn't know what else to say. He felt her hand on his chin and felt her raise his head up to meet her eyes. He felt an immense feeling of relief spread through him in addition to feeling his heart race when he saw that she was smiling shyly at him.

"For what?" She whispered and before he knew it, she leaned in and kissed him swiftly on his lips. He went rigid as she drew back, his mind not forming a single coherent thought as he stared dumbly at her. She laughed at his expression and took his hand, pulling him with her after the others who had turned around at Fleur's laughter.

"What's ze matter with you two?" Aurélie asked, looking at them with a questioning look. Catching sight of Harry's expression she suddenly grinned. "What's wrong wiz 'Arry?"

"Nothing!" Harry flinched at how high his voice sounded. This only served to increase their amusement.