Unveiling Destiny: Harry Potter and the Triwizard Revelation

Tonight hadn't felt like just another potions lesson. Harry knew he'd been distant and introspective. It wasn't like he didn't have anything on his mind, with Daphne casually dropping lost legendary items that just so happened to have been a Horcrux. There was no story, no bragging, nothing. She'd put herself out there and only wanted to marry him and fulfill the contract.

"Maybe that's enough for tonight," Horace called out gently, a grimace on his face as his nose wrinkled at the smell of the potion.

Harry sighed. He'd made a careless mistake because his attention wasn't on brewing, as it should've been. "Right, it's probably a good idea." He scowled at his poor attempt and then vanished the contents.

"Leave it, I'll clean it up, my boy," Slughorn's face softened as he looked at the younger man. "Would you stay for a drink?" He asked hopefully and gestured toward the room's exit that went back towards the interior of the home.

Harry debated it for a moment. What he really felt like right now was someone delivering a coup de grâce. It wasn't that he wanted to be put out of his misery so much as he wanted deliverance and guidance with his latest consternations. Oddly enough, Horace might be the only one who could be objective. Patrice's and Cyrus' daughters were in the middle of it and he didn't trust Sirius and Remus with these kinds of things.

"Sure," he replied after a few seconds, "Thanks."

Horace ushered him back into the room as he always did when they were going to talk. Harry sank into the familiar chair and Horace already had a butterbeer pouring itself. Harry thanked him and wandlessly levitated it to himself. He tipped the cup, with his magic, and allowed the liquid to fall into it. He had discovered, so far, that this was manageable, but getting the liquid to pour into his mouth like a water fountain, which had been his intent from the start, was, well, in a word, difficult . It would require copious amounts of practice, in private, where people wouldn't see his messy mistakes.

"What's on your mind, Harry, my boy. You've been thoroughly distracted tonight, staring off and, at times, unresponsive." It was left unsaid how out of character it was for Harry to be so unattentive at these lessons.

"A lot… Too much…" Harry shook his head and gripped his mug with both hands, the warmth of it feeling reassuring to him. "Want to hear it all or talk about things one at a time?"

Horace chuckled good naturedly. "Why don't you get it all out. We can work through it, one at a time. That is, if you'd like."

Harry nodded and sat up, resting the butterbeer on one of the arm rests, still held comfortably in his hand. He ran his hand back through his hair and rubbed down his neck, wondering where he should start.

"Well, there's a lot. You know about what Dumbledore said and I can't fail to notice that he admitted Riddle did more than seven sets of seven rituals. He walked the same path as me and just forgot that he shouldn't do an extra one?!" Riddle was smart, a Head Boy and incredibly capable. He wouldn't just make that mistake easily.

"Then, like, why the bloody hell was he so hellbent on killing me? Why specifically me? Not my mother, not my father. He didn't care about killing them, not truly. He swatted my father away, quickly dispatching him as though he was just a pebble on his road to his real target, me. " Harry had a head of steam built up and kept chugging along, letting the words and worries come out of his mouth.

"My mum, she was offered her life. She just had to step aside, he said. Just sacrifice your son and you live. But why?! He stood against muggleborns, he was inside an enemy's home and normally made their endings gruesome. He didn't just offer to let a muggleborn live, he probably wouldn't have even killed my father if he'd been outside and hadn't arrived in time to get in the way." His free hand was flinched and he could feel his magic bubbling within him, responding to his anger.

"I've thought on that, over and over and over again! And nothing! It doesn't make any sense!" Harry dropped his head back heavily onto the comfortable backing of the chair, staring up at the ceiling. It wasn't great for him to get so worked up, his magic was responsive . He'd noticed it had been swirling and had begun to cause a physical response around him.

He let out a breath and shut his eyes. Slughorn had stayed quiet through all this, so far, just letting him vent. He brought his chin back down and moved onto the next topic. "Daphne just got another horcrux dealt with but, if he did seven, then that's only the third one. We have four to go and no leads on what they could be."

"Right, with that, Daphne basically told me what Patrice and Apolline were hinting at, that Fleur still wants to be with me but neither of us have really talked, so I don't exactly know that. But, like, I'd seen it in the hall. She had the same look that I did when our eyes met," he brought his eyes up to Horace's, "She left the hall then, you know. She didn't like being in my presence, much like how I don't like to be near her right now," he shook his head and stared past the man, his eyes shut and he let out a breath, long and slow, "It hurts too much," Harry said lowly, "It hurts to be reminded of what we had, what we could be…"

It wasn't the time to go down that mole hole, Fleur was just one difficulty. He brought the butterbeer up from the armrest and gulped down some, hoping the magical drink would warm him. "Then there is Natalia. Her family is still looking for leverage in the negotiations, trying to take advantage of anything that can improve their position. Getting Natalia to do their bidding."

He brought the drink up and sipped at it again as he considered what words to use to relate how he felt about the Pavlov family.

"I'm not stupid and naive about them. They aren't a good family to associate with. But that's exactly the kind of thing that I need right now. They took out Mcnair with brutal efficiency. If I can get that working for us, then we can actually win. Cause, you're right. I can't just run around and assassinate everyone. I can't fight this war on my own." The last admission felt like an anchor being dropped off without a chain.

"Then, what's more, is that all of my allies are trying to match me to their daughters, Fleur, Daphne, Natalia. I'm just glad you don't have any granddaughters or there'd be a love pentagon going on for me." Harry took a deep breath in, the words had come out that he needed a breath or two to put the proper level of oxygen back into his system.

"My father's best friends are siding with Dumbledore and I know the tutoring Flitwick and McGonagall are giving me is so that he can track my magical progress. And, like, I don't even know anything about my own damn family. People say the Potters are well respected and 'you're a Potter' but I don't even know what it means."

Sensing Harry was done, Horace took a final sip of his drink and then began to respond. "Well, your grandfather, Charlus, would have been the ideal candidate to teach you what it means to be a Potter. Though, I must admit, he would not be keen on me advising you. Frankly, aside from Patrice, he wouldn't appreciate the rest of us," he chuckled and, apparently, had no issues admitting it.

"Charlus was a man of intense conviction. He had no qualms ripping into someone for their lack of integrity. He'd stand up and get in peoples faces, letting them know exactly how he felt about them," he chuckled and had a nostalgic grin on his face. "Why, this one time, he stood up in front of the whole Wizengamot, after they had spent an hour debating a bill House Nott introduced and he cut through all the rhetoric and gutted the bill in a single speech."

He had to place his drink down as his arms were becoming too animated to continue holding it. "He stood up and said, ' Enough of the sodding suppositions! Nott, the wanker that he is, is trying to buy the moderates with a slight decrease in the Diagon Tax. He's got two departments on board, by creating four more positions for them to lord over, and the real reason he's passed this bill is try to remove one of the few rights Muggleborns actually have. If that wasn't enough reason to vote against, look at the hard evidence you now have a copy of'."

Slughorn chuckled in memory, after trying to reenact the speech, "He was so fed up with the Wizengamot, refusing to act on Grindelwald, people acting for their greed and prejudice and almost nobody standing up to them. Nott had been one of the most active houses, politically. Constantly trying to chip away at the rights of muggleborn, half bloods, creatures and witches. All the while, adding protections to purebloods and refusing to consider even giving supplies to aid against Grindelwald."

Harry heard the words and cherished them, learning more about family was always delightful. He'd been so busy with his own studies he hadn't taken the time to see what he could find about his own family.

"But for all of Charlus' moral uprightness, he was never one to be predicted. He fell in love with Dorea, a gorgeous young woman from a family that he never should have considered marrying into. Yet, somehow, it worked out and he brought Arcturus toward being a moderate," he shook his head and glanced off, away from Harry before returning to the present conversation.

"He stood up to his own allies, berating them when he thought they'd strayed down the wrong path. He was a passionate friend and loyal ally. If the man was but twenty years younger the last war wouldn't have gone the way it did. With just one speech, he destroyed Nott's political influence. Disparaging them for buying a job for his son, pointing out how ridiculous it was for making a law that muggleborns couldn't keep their wands when they were not in Hogwarts, and buying votes."

Harry frowned and looked at Slughorn skeptically, "He pointed out the regular dealings, showing what everyone knows is already happening and it hurt them that badly?" He wanted to hear more about that as it sounded like an exaggeration to Harry. While he might appreciate a bit of whitewashing of his grandfather, he did want to hear the truth of the man as well.

"No, it wasn't merely the speech. It was the planning, the discovering of exactly who had been bribed, for how much and the specific part they were to play. Those were the masterstrokes," Slughorn chuckled amusedly, "His speech coincided with the evidence being presented in a written fashion. It was as devastating as it was shocking. Nott and all his allies were exposed and shamed. Everyone knew it went on but there was never tangible proof," he paused and looked at Harry, his eye brow rising in challenge, wanting Harry to finish the explanation.

"Presented with tangible proof of corruption, something they cannot explicitly approve of, even if they tacitly agree not to be zealous in ferreting it out normally, the Wizengamot would have to act and make an example of House Nott," Harry explained, the single piece of information had been missing that led to the conclusion.

"I would think, a prudent man like him, and his ancestors before him, would have journals or something to prepare a new Head of House in the circumstance that an heir was orphaned early in life, for situations exactly like yours," Horace mused aloud. "Have you looked into it?"

Harry felt himself grimace, he knew he should have searched more but he had been so busy and had so much on his mind all the time that it hadn't really been a priority. "I haven't really looked…" Harry said in a small voice, ashamed to admit it.

"It's understandable, my boy. Chin up," Slughorn correctly was able to assess how Harry felt about that, "You're fourteen, and, as I had said, Charlus and, dare I say, James should both be around to advise and parent you. You're fourteen, making decisions and dealing with things that most families don't even contemplate over generations."

Harry didn't feel convinced and wasn't putting in any effort in masking how he felt about things when he was with Horace, there was no need.

"Just think about Krum. An absolute phenom at quidditch. A hero for quidditch fans and a teenage celebrity. But, do you compare him to you? You ask any wizard across the world and they will have heard of you, but not Krum. And while that may have faded over time, if it had just been a sole event, but it hadn't."

Harry tilted his head, trying to figure out exactly where he was going with this.

"You have had an entire generation growing up reading romanticized tales found in the Harry Potter books series. Then, as a First Year, you're a standout quidditch player, you win special awards from Albus Dumbledore and are widely praised by him. This year, with the tournament and your academic success, you're an even brighter star for people to follow."

Harry almost rolled his eyes. Horace had been harping on about these things for some time now. "I get that I'm literally the hottest thing right now, the biggest draw. I get that I'm dealing with things that most people my age never even conceive of," his neck craned forward and he shook his head, his upper torso following.

"But that doesn't matter. That is what I have to do. I just, I just… I just find it so tiring. All this politicking, all this work of playing a part, of discerning deceptions and duplicitousness. Just because they have vowed to not betray me and to support me, doesn't mean they can't manipulate things to their own benefit. I mean, I don't even know who convinced Hermione and her family to move to the US." His frustration built up as he spoke and he scowled as he brought his mug up for another drink.

"Yes," Slughorn replied slowly, "that has been quite… vexing."

"Nothing more has been discovered?" He asked the man that had been following that up, using his vast network of contacts.

"Not much has changed, the top considerations are still Pavlov and Greengrass with a slimmer possibility of it being the Delacours or Albus himself. But, I believe it was someone that considers you an ally, even if it is a nominal one at that. Their exit was too clean and tidy; it was too beneficial for their family for it to be anything else," he mused a little bit irritably, not having been able to ferret out the truth as of yet.

"Pavlov's might have done it to remove a possible romantic interest, always being able to claim later it was for 'protection'," Harry began to list aloud what they had come to suspect about each of the possible parties that may have pulled it off. "Delacour's being much the same, remove Hermione and allow Fleur a clean opportunity to ingratiate herself with me and cement close ties to their family, the only supportive faction."

Horace hummed aloud, "Cyrus would have the contacts for it and Daphne would be most aware of how close you two were, but not anyone could have found out you only kept two close friends…"

Harry could see how it bothered the man to not know this information and he expected Horace would continue looking into it. But, right now, Harry wanted to get back to more of what was an issue right now. "So basically what you've found out is that, more than likely, I'm left with believing that one of the three families that want me to marry their daughter will go to major financial lengths to manipulate me."

It was obvious that the Pavlov family had been and was currently willing to manipulate things to achieve their goal, however, there was pretty limited information that pointed towards them being a leading candidate for the 'Hermione situation'. Their family had very little connection to the colonies. Whereas, the Delacours were in the best position to have pulled this off, while the Greengrass family would make the most sense for motive. They could have neatly slid Hermione out of the picture and inserted Daphne. A more charming, beautiful and connected heiress who was also smart and brainy like Hermione.

Horace had just emptied his drink, knocking back the last bit of it and he levitated the glass out of the way, appearing to be done drinking for the moment. "Harry," Slughorn began but then he lost his steam and heaved out a long sigh.

Harry frowned as he watched. Horace was an articulate individual, he was well spoken and considered his words before opening his mouth… That he had done so now was… odd.

"I've counseled you since we first spoke of your mother Lily," He closed his eyes for a couple seconds after letting her name part from his lips. He opened his eyes again and they glistened, "And, my boy, I-" he paused again, his hand coming to his face and he wiped his eyes.

Harry could feel some tension rise from within him, he had no idea what Slughorn was getting emotional about and it made him feel ill at ease. He sat upright in the chair, and carefully guarded himself.

"Advising isn't easy and straightforward, my boy," Horace began softly, "there is more than one way to climb a mountain, each with their benefits and detriments. You can walk, like a muggle, and gain an understanding of how difficult it is to do physically. You can take a broom and fly up, a fast approach where you'd learn more about flying in the wind and at variable altitudes. If you didn't want to do that, then learning to apparate by line of sight would be a good challenge and you could ascend that way, pushing yourself magically, mentally." He gave a faint smile.

"But if asked what is the best way to climb the mountain I could advise arbitrarily, I could choose one I think would benefit you in the short term, the long term or even give combinations of them." Harry nodded understanding the point he was getting across, though his eyes were slightly narrowed as he was considering where this was leading to.

"I once told you that you should marry five women to secure all your lines," he chuckled in amusement, "I did that because I knew you were only open to one," he told Harry in a matter-of-fact tone.

Harry looked at him blankly, taking a moment to consider that. "You thought I would only want one and wished to push me to two or three?" He questioned neutrally, not giving away his thoughts about that.

Slughorn nodded, "I'd hoped it would open you up to considering two or three. There would always be the option of adding more or assisting another House in continuing their line later," Horace informed him. "If I wanted to advise you as I think Charlus would have, I'd tell you to marry Fleur and to never entertain the idea of another woman in your life. Though I didn't know him well, I believe your father would tell you the same too, for what it's worth."

"Then why would you push me that way?" Harry asked with furrowed eyebrows.

Horace shook off the question and kept going, "Arcturus though, he would have you married to Daphne and pushed towards Susan Bones. Possibly even looking into adding Hannah Abbot, their friend, if you had enough pull to get that done." Only one corner of his mouth moved as his check and eye, on that side, tried to meet each other.

"Your mother, however… I think," and he really emphasized the word, the register of his voice lowering for the single word, "I think that she would have had you go for Natalia first, and then tried to have you accept more as necessary."

Horace tilted his head and his eyes looked toward the ceiling for a moment as he debated that. "Yes, I think she would have wanted you to be pragmatic and, most importantly, she would have wanted you to survive," he added softly, almost wistfully.

"Why would my mother have pushed me for the Pavlov's first?" Harry asked quietly, he wasn't sure how he felt about these admissions. Much like the advice, he felt conflicted by it.

"She would've seen their value, as you have. Macnair wasn't some nobody. He was a well known and much hated man. I doubt the Pavlov's were the first to go for him; they were, however, the first to succeed. And doing so, as quietly as they did?" He shook his head and let his thought trail off, they both understood.

"Is it comparable to my mother and her feelings about the Potter family, or, more specifically, my father, before they loved each other?" Harry asked, trying to discern more about why Slughorn thought his mother would advise such.

"Yes," Slughorn began to answer, his eyes sparkling with amusement, "and no. Lily liked the Potter family but not their son. You like Natalia but not her family," he chuckled at the irony there.

"But the crux of the matter is, men will need to disappear and you can't be the one to always do it. While Lily would have been displeased by the taste that decision leaves in your mouth, she would always, and I do mean always put the survival of her family before anything else," Slughorn's eyes had darkened and his face was grim. "She was willing to marry a man she had extreme distaste for, if it protected her family and wouldn't drive her to kill herself."

Harry's lips pressed into a thin line and his fingers pressed into the chair. That was the part of what had always bothered him, something to bury deep down and never speak or say it. It was well and good that things had grown between his parents, into a loving marriage, but the contract had her setup to birth heirs, give her a career and protection for her family.

"So what are you saying with all this?" Harry asked, disliking the quiet, his hands were relaxed and he had calmed himself enough to use magic to float the mug to his face, tipping it and letting the final bit of liquid pour into his mouth. Harry wiped his mouth with his sleeve, his pouring hadn't been as neat as he would like, some had sploshed onto his upper lip.

"Well, let me ask you this. Would you wish for me to advise you to be a Potter? To marry Fleur and damn any consequences it may bring? Would you have me advise you as a Black, marry for advantage to the family and damn love? Should I try and maximize your financial outlook or push for a political hegemony?" Horace's voice was demanding, not in an overbearing way though. He was insistent that Harry give him an answer, for him to choose a direction.

"Harry, my boy, I ask what you want? For I, like Lily, wish for you to survive, first and foremost. But, as I grew to love Lily as if she was my own daughter, I have grown in my affection for you." He wiped at his eyes and his still shining eyes locked with Harry's. "I ask you, for what else am I to do? You have the pragmatism of Lily, the makings of another fine Potter and a ruthless cunning Arcturus would be proud of."

Harry felt calm, detached and warm all at the same time. He felt at peace with Horace's words, that the man was trying to advise him loyally, that he was trustworthy, his most ardent supporter even. Detached because how did you respond to something like this? Emotions were not something he was adept at. Warm though, he didn't see Horace as a father figure, not even an uncle. A mentor, a close family friend that had become a part of the family, as close as their own blood, but not as a parent. In some ways, that made it all the more special. He was a man that was fulfilling the role of a godparent and mentor all at once.

" Thank you," he said after a moment in a way that was as heartfelt as he could make it. He hoped Slughorn could read more into his response than his short reply.

Horace gave him a nod, his head bobbing up and down two more times than was necessary. "At first I saw you as someone to collect, to foster a relationship with and use it to further my own ambitions," he admitted, his eyes locked on Harry's, " but, I could never have done that to Lily's child. I fooled myself, thinking I could remain detached," he shook his head and looked as though he was far, far away from here.

"I spent years… years cultivating a network. I built up vast stores of favors and connections… But during Tom's rise… they were worthless. I couldn't protect Lily, the one thing I wanted most . Everything I had built up, years of politicking and savvy. My expensive 'one of a kind' drinks turned to vinegar in my mouth, the best food from the most exclusive places turned to ash on my tongue. Even the gold felt like it was weighing me down like a lead anchor."

Harry stayed silent and let the elder man get this weight off his shoulders, leaning forward slightly as he took in it all.

"I let it all rot, I retreated from the public and tried to find something that would replace it. But all I had been able to accomplish was have a quiet retirement and feel ashamed of my failure. My influence waned, my investments were sold off and I wallowed, searching for purpose," his head had been dropped into his hands but now it rose, the acidulous look being shed.

"But now I've found it. You, my boy, are it. You are the way where lead becomes gold again, that I can enjoy wine and savor food. You are the reason I can politick and network again. You have given me purpose once more." There was a sense of conviction to him now, that he was laying himself bare and showing Harry his depth.

"You ask me how to advise you and I tell you, how do you want me to advise you? You tell me what you want and I'll do my best to make it happen."

Harry walked down the halls and felt he was getting there entirely too slowly and way too fast at the same time. Seconds were becoming minutes and minutes were becoming seconds. Somehow, those conflicting things were true at the same time, even though they could not be. Every step was as long as five but every hallway ten times longer than normal.

His heart was beating irregularly fast in his chest and his breathing was slightly quickened. The palms of his hands were clammy and he was both dreading and excited at the prospect of what he was about to do. After no time, or a rather long period of time, he found himself knocking on the door.

He waited and the silence was almost too much to bear. He could hear his pulse and he felt more nervous than when he went after Malfoy. That would have ended in death and discovery or a perfect crime. This though, this was going to be something he was going to have to live with. Harry would be putting himself out there, unless what he had heard went completely the other way, and he could be rejected.

The door opened and Harry could feel his heart quench. Fleur was there, standing in the entry to her room, and wearing shorts that showed a whole lot of thigh and a tight tee shirt that didn't quite touch the top of her shorts. Her eyes were wide and it was clear she didn't expect it to be him.

"'Arry," she breathed out, her voice quiet. Her arms, which had been at her sides, crossed over each other and she hugged them to her torso. Her eyes hardened, "Why are you 'ere, 'arry?"

Harry almost winced at her tone."I'd like to talk," he said, his voice calm and unwavering.

She didn't answer, her cold blue eyes bored into him and her stiff posture didn't sway. "Fine," she replied, her eyes flashed with anger as she spoke the words. Fleur didn't let him in to follow after him, she simply turned and briskly walked and sat in a chair, not a loveseat or anywhere where Harry could sit within touching distance.

Harry stepped in, shut the door and went and sat on the loveseat.

Fleur was withdrawn, her face was blank, and she sat silently waiting for Harry to speak. After a few seconds of both of them just looking at each other she lifted both of her eyebrows and her head moved forward slightly as she did so.

"I wanted to tell you Fleur, that I'm not over you and I don't think I ever will be," Harry started things off, his earlier discussion with Slughorn giving him the push to go for what he wanted. As the man pointed out, the worst case scenario leaves him back where he was then, wanting Fleur and not having her. At least if he tries, then he knows it wasn't on him, that it wasn't a lack of effort and vulnerability that lead to them never getting back together.

"You are not with Natalia anymore?" Fleur questioned sharply, a flicker of dull hope flashing in her eyes, her body posture stayed stiff and unyielding.

"No." Harry stated clearly.

Silence stretched between them as Fleur didn't immediately respond and Harry didn't continue to elaborate.

"You want me to share you? With a Pavlov ?" she spat out, her eyes burning with rage. "Do all men just want to fuck me? Just get me on my back and between my legs? Do you think all Veela are like zis or just ze French ones?" Her accent thickened as her fury grew. She stood up and her hands were at her sides, her hands shaking in anger, though no wand was drawn.

"Really?" Harry answered, standing up as the words fell out of his mouth, "That is what you think of me? That is what you know of me?" He knew it was probably just her anger taking hold of her, getting her to say spiteful things to hurt him as bad as his decision had hurt her… But if this was going to go that way he may as well leave. If Fleur was going to react like this then Harry would stand up for himself and it would get ugly. There was no need to let it get to that.

"You think I don't know you talked Daphne into that? That you're trying to get with all three of us? Do you really think I'll just let myself be a conquest for you? That I'll just be another girl you can brag about?" Fleur was glaring at him as she took a step toward him, her words overflowing with venom and vitriol.

Harry shook his head, he could feel her magic, the fire surrounding her, and he wasn't going to let it go unchallenged. "Well fuck you then. Go on some more dates with Bill Weasley, why don't you?" He could see the surprise cross her face as it paused her building up of magic and he pushed on with his words, his green eyes flashing with frustration of his own.

"Enjoy popping out tons of little red-headed freckled kids. I'm sure you'll just love Molly, the overbearing woman who clearly loved you when we visited," he brought her back to how much the Weasley matriarch didn't enjoy Fleur's presence. "I'm sure she'll just love it! I can hear it, just picture it, you show up to a garden party with a nice pretty dress on and she'll compliment you on it, 'Such a lovely dress, it makes you look so French '. And we both know she would mean harlot."

"Harlot?" Fleur nearly screeched at him. "You think I'll open my legs for William?" She was furious . Yet, her eyes shone with unshed tears as her anger was mixed with heavy emotions that caused her eyes to tear up.

The buildup of magic around her stopped, the heat that was building up to an inferno was snuffed out. "Out," she whispered, her voice soft in volume but hard in resolve. "Get out," she repeated her command through gritted teeth as the first tears leaked from her eyes, her wand in hand now.

Harry didn't draw his wand, he didn't feel any malicious magic around her. She wasn't preparing to attack him; she was giving him a warning of what would happen if he stayed.

Harry shook his head, this wasn't how he wanted things to go. He had wanted to talk to her civilly. He had wanted to explain the depth of his emotions and talk about the rituals, to explain what her mother had talked with him about. He'd wanted to ask if her parents had been hinting at, that she wasn't over him.

But, instead of that, things got heated. She'd taken the first shot at him and he riposted it. Things had escalated quickly and accusations that both of them knew were untrue were thrown around.

Harry shook his head. Trying to fix this now wasn't a good idea. He backed away from the furniture and quickly departed. As soon as he had shut the door behind him he sank down, his back pressed against the door and his bum slid down to the floor. He grabbed his knees and dropped his head onto his forearm.

He breathed in and out, long, slow deliberate breaths. His chest heaved and he felt things crash down around him. His emotions were overwhelming. Picturing Fleur with Bill, laughing at his jokes, eating up his charms, and having her arms around him. Greeting him from behind with a hug and soft kiss on the cheek, like she used to do to him in the Great Hall whenever she found him there eating already and her arm in his as they went for walks around.

He couldn't stomach it; he couldn't let it happen.

But what choice did he have now?

And in that moment he wanted comfort, someone to just be there for him and thought of his trusty companion, the one that he could always rely on. He straightened his right leg, so he could access his pocket, and reached into it, searching for his scaly familiar. His fingers fumbled around and he couldn't find her.

That wasn't possible. While his pockets were enhanced in size he couldn't lose his little dragon in his own pocket. After thoroughly searching it again with his hand he gave up. There was always another option, one he hadn't made much use of, but had been practicing. First though, he brought his leg back and up and rested his head on his arms.

Harry shut his eyes and sought Cuddles, he focused on their connection and tried to see through her eyes. It took less than a second for him to see something his own eyes could not be seeing.

He was in Fleur's bedroom and she was on her bed, in the fetal position, sobbing. Harry looked around and found that he, well Cuddles, was perched on her wardrobe. With a powerful flap of his wings, Harry leapt off the wardrobe and landed on her bed.

Harry, Cuddles, lowered his jaw and let out a crooning noise, though it came out more as a half screech.

Fleur started at the noise but the panic fled her eyes as she saw what it was. Her eyes softened and she perked up. "Cuddles?" she questioned what she was seeing but it was rather obvious Cuddles was one of a kind. "What are you doing here?" she questioned further and reached out to grab a hold of the little dragon.

As her fingers got a firm hold of her dark scales a contented sigh escaped her lips. "I've always loved you," she told the little dragon as she brought Cuddles to her face and quickly pecked her lips on her. "You feel just like 'arry."

She closed her eyes and hugged the dragon to her, "You're definitely 'is. 'Arry's magic is all over you, it is all I can feel." she released Cuddles for just a second before smothering her again. "I know Gabrielle adores you. Your magic is so strong, so safe, and so very protective . Nothing can 'urt me when I'm with you."

Harry crooned again, puffing out his chest, all the while wondering how acting as a dragon felt so instinctual.

"You can understand me, can't you?" Fleur asked rhetorically," I've always thought you were smarter than a normal dragon. You must be, you are so very special, aren't you?" she ran her fine fingers across his scales and Harry could feel the pleasure that it normally gave Cuddles when he did it. A thrum left his throat and he affectionately pushed into the contact.

"I wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for you…" Fleur whispered, her tears had stopped by the point but their lines still marred her cheeks. "Without 'arry…" she murmured the addition.

"'Arry…" Fleur whispered his name quietly to herself as she hoisted herself up with the arm not cradling Cuddles. She sat up on the bed, resting her back on the headboard and placed the little dragon in her lap, nestling her between her thighs. Fleur's fingers kept petting Cuddles as she looked down at her lovingly.

"I want 'im still…" she said and Harry forced Cuddles to open her eyes, turn her neck around and look up at the beautiful Beauxbatons champion. "Did you know that?" she asked in a lighthearted teasing manner as she kept petting Harry's familiar.

"'e thought I went on a date with William," she rolled her eyes in exasperation. "I'm ruined for other men. 'Arry is so strong, his heart is too pure and his love too overwhelming. I can feel it from you. Did you know that?" she picked up the fire breathing reptile and brought it to her face, her eyes closely examining the Cuddles.

"I cannot stand the touch of other men. Their lust, their perverse desires," she shuddered and brought Cuddles back down to her lap, not stopping running her hands over his scales. "But not from 'arry. It is why Gabby loves him so. She can feel his care and affection for her. Maman can too. 'e doesn't even stare at maman…" she looked lost in wishful thought.

She sighed and Harry, peering through Cuddles slitted yes, thought she looked melancholic and dispirited. "I don't know what is wrong with me," she whispered in frustration. "I love 'arry, I even talked with maman and papa about sharing him but when he came here, when he came to win me back, for what else could it have been, I accused him of things he is not…" The hand that was petting Cuddles left and flipped her hair back. Harry watched as she flipped it over her far shoulder and then began running her fingers through it.

"Am I crazy? Am I too proud? Was it my pride, my inner fire, that made me react so?" she sighed and dropped her hand down to pet Cuddles again. "Maybe I am just crazy. 'Ere I am, clinging onto 'Arry's magic and talking to 'is familiar…" she let out a self-deprecating hollow laugh.

"But should I not be so proud? 'Ave I not worked so 'ard for so long to achieve what I 'ave?" she asked the dragon rhetorically. "I finished NEWT Charms two years early, I am the top scoring student Beauxbatons has seen for many decades, I'm the dueling champion, not that it matters versus 'arry." she grumbled the last bit, though she didn't sound upset or jealous as she said it; it was more a good natured gripe than anything.

"I am a Delacour, beautiful, talented, and wealthy. I 'ave everything one could ask for and 'ave either worked 'ard for it or 'ave been born to it. Should that not be enough for 'im? Should your master not be just 'appy with me, just me ?" Her hand stilled on him and he forced Cuddles to open her eyes to get another look at Fleur. Fleur's one hand was still holding Cuddles and the other was now on heart, a lone tear trickled down her cheek.

"Why can't I be enough Cuddles? Can you tell me? Am I not pretty enough? Does he prefer Natalia's dark hair? Should I have been more physical with him? Less physical?" Her blue eyes stared at the little dragon as tears silently leaked from her eyes.

"'Arry's the only one who has seen me topless. 'E's the only one I've ever let touch me. I wanted 'im too, I wanted to feel his love burn with desire," she used her palm to wipe her right cheek and then her left as she poured out her inner thoughts to a miniature fire breathing dragon.

She sat there and pulled her knees up, inadvertently squeezing the Cuddles between her thighs and stomach but a squawk from Cuddles quickly had her brought up above her knees. Harry used his control of Cuddles to rub her head on Fleur. Sobs racked her body, the tears came hard and heavy now, she was sniffling and had a runny nose.

Harry did his best to give her comfort, but he was rather limited as a dragon. Her body convulsed with her sobs and time lost meaning. How long it went on for Harry had no idea, it was an eternity and over in an instant all at once as his mind unfocused and he did his best to bring comfort to the devastated girl he was with, well, kind of.

After her sobs had slowed, after they had ceased, and after she had composed herself more, having wiped up her tears and removed all traces of them, Fleur had cradled Cuddles to her chest. "Do you know the worst part, Cuddles?" She asked as her chin was on her chest, looking down at Harry's familiar. "The worst part is I wish I 'adn't driven 'arry away; I wish I 'ad grabbed 'im and staked my claim. I wish 'e'd grabbed me, 'eld me, and told me 'e was never leaving me again. That I was 'is and 'e is mine." Tears didn't come now but her tone was still somber.

"But that's not what 'e did, what I did," she shut her eyes and exhaled slowly as if she was breathing out her disappointment, "I told 'im 'e was just like other men. That 'e was just obsédé with my beauty, that his goal was to add me to his trophées, his tableau de chasse," Fleur shook her head as she finished rapidly covering what her earlier words had implied.

"I want 'im back… but, I can't do it. I can't tell 'im that I'll do it, that I'll accept Natalia and Daphne too, if necessary," her voice was barely audible as tears left her eyes again. "I-I just can't, " she whispered heartbroken.

Harry had heard enough. He could figure it out now. Patrice had given him the first clue, calling her a veela, and Apolline had led him to the well. Unfortunately, when he went to draw water, talk to Fleur, he fumbled it and couldn't get any water. As Cuddles though, he saw Fleur fill the well with her tears. He knew what was in there now and exactly what she wanted.

It was his talk with Slughorn that had solidified it for him. There were times to be passive, times to sit back and listen but not always. He'd been rather passive. He'd taken the back seat and let someone else drive the conversation while taking in the scenery and scrutinizing the driver. Too seldom had he forced his way into the driver's seat and gone where he had wanted to.

It was time for that. It was time for him to do what he did when he went for Malfoy. He had made his decision to go for Fleur. The gorgeous veela that had stood beside him in battle. The young woman who was as responsible for them making it out of the Forbidden Forest alive as anyone else. He'd never forget that macabre sight.

She had never looked more beautiful to him than she had there, never more deadly. The spells had raced from her wand, lighting the surroundings on fire. She had felled spiders, left and right, and had refused to be overwhelmed, she had stood tall, she'd been a vehement veela.

He'd thought it then and he still thought it now, when he thought back to that moment, the moment he knew Fleur was so fucking glorious.

Harry couldn't let this moment pass. It was time to act.

He used his control to flap Cuddle's wings and wriggle out of Fleur's grasp and he took off. He flew out oft her reach, flapping her wings to gain height. Harry directed Cuddles out of the room and then did a quick circle to see if Fleur was following. She wasn't.

Cuddles turned towards her and let out a shriek and followed it up with a puff of fire that quickly turned into smoke.

Harry didn't catch whatever Fleur's response was, he could tell she opened her mouth and spoke things but he shrieked again to get her following him. He had Cuddles go toward the exit, stopping to hover, when Fleur was too far behind and ending up at the exit.

Harry left Cuddle's mind and stood up, his body was stiff for sitting so long, his legs protested him demanding they get him to stand upright. Just as his hand finished using the door as leverage to stand up, Fleur opened the door.

For the second time tonight, she was surprised he was there. "'Arry?!" She said half in shock and half bewildered.

"I can't go back like this, not how we parted," he told her sincerely, his voice this with emotion.

"'Arry," Fleur said as she stared at him, her eyes wide and her eyelids blinking more than was natural.

Harry reached out with his hand and grabbed her elbow. He felt her pull away as she gasped at the contact. Harry's fingers held their grip, not that it was tight enough she couldn't have pulled away and not too constricting that it might actually hurt her.

"'Arry," Fleur said for the third straight time, this time though with longing and melancholy.

"I don't want to walk away from you," Harry told her, his green eyes willing her to believe every word that he uttered in this doorway. "If none of this was happening, if I was just a Potter without Riddle trying to get me I'd be the luckiest man alive, marrying you, just you."

Harry's shoulders sagged. "But I'm also a Black and you have to carry on the Delacour line. Life isn't simple and I'll never just work a regular job and go home. Politics is going to plague me and so it can't just be you. We can't just have three children for three lines, not when Riddle is still out there… and, we can't battle his entire force with just a couple of capable wands."

The entire time he spoke he held onto Fleur, wanting her to feel what he was saying, how he truly felt about all of this. His voice was tired of going over this endlessly. His heart wanted absolution and he wanted to be with Fleur again.

"'Arry," she spoke his name for the fourth time, her blue eyes shining and her lips closing again after just the one word.

Harry stepped forward and there was almost no space between them. He let his one hand drop off her elbow and slide down to her hip, his other hand grabbing a hold on her other hip. He pulled her in and brought his lips towards hers, his eyes watching her intently and seeing no sign in them to dissuade his current actions.

Their lips met and it was as if a raging inferno had just begun between them. He could feel a torrent of pent up emotion and desire overwhelm him. It seared through his blood, boiling it and driving his actions. His lips worked in tandem with hers and her hands laid a trail of fire on his body as they roamed and grabbed where they pleased.

Harry's hands weren't idle either. No matter how his fingers explored and squeezed, they could never get enough.

Fleur moaned into his mouth, her hands pulled him into her, crushing their bodies to one another. Fleur began to back up and Harry matched her step for step, one of her hands left his body and shut the door, the only way he recognized it was from the sound of the door shutting and the feeling of privacy as the room was now secure again.

Harry kept kissing her, their lips pressing against one another, his hands never idle. He enjoyed caressing her face, running his hand up it, through her silky hair and then following it down her body, pressing and massaging it as it, or they, went.

His feet had kept walking in step with Fleur's and before he was even aware that they'd gone anywhere, Fleur had taken them to her bedroom. She'd failed to navigate through the door, if she had meant to at all, and Harry had her pressed against the wall.

He could feel his molten desire and passion around them. He could feel his magic surging, its presence mixing with Fleur's, driving the two of them to a wild frenzy. Fleur began to pull at his outer robe, demanding they come off. His shirt was next as she divested him of the item that was interfering with her hands exploring his upper body.

When his shirt came off, Fleur's palms came to rest on his pectoral muscles and she slowly shoved him away. Harry stepped back, following her lead as she created space between them. Her hips pressed into the wall, propelling herself forward while her chest jutted out toward him, the space between them decreasing but still more than a foot remained.

Her blue eyes had an inner fire, a raging furnace and he felt something shift. It took him a second to recognize what it was, what had happened.

Fleur had released her grip on her allure. The previously tightly constrained hold was let loose and it washed over him, egging on his lust, driving away his inhibitions and making him marvel and focus on the ethereally beautiful creature before him.

Harry's breathing stilled, his mind torn between fighting the effects and his mutual agreement to heighten the effects their impassioned tryst had already reached. As if he knew exactly what she wanted, he began to back away, his heels turning and leading him towards her bedroom.

Step by step he kept moving backwards, never tripping and feeling as if he was floating, entranced by the beauty before him. Her silver hair shone ever brighter as it reflected the light, her blue eyes were alight and wantonly roving his half naked body.

His calves hit the end of the bed and he let his knees buckle, falling back onto the bed. Propped up on his elbows, he watched as Fleur prowled towards him, her hips moving in exaggerated fashion. Two steps away from him, she played with the hem of her shirt and smiled devilishly at him.

Harry's chest constricted.

"'Arry." She said staring down at him.

He was too busy taking her all in to have heard her though.

"'Arry, look at me," she said, her voice firm.

He looked up.

"I want this. I want you," she said simply, conveying a deeper meaning than those mere words had said.

Harry's hands stilled but the heavy magical build up between them didn't decay at all, if anything, it continued to build.

"If we do this, if we take the final step, I'll be yours and you'll be mine, toujours ." Harry could feel the sincerity in her voice as she looked down upon him from her enticing position.

The words pierced through the haze of lust that had descended upon him, not that he was ever not in full control of his actions, thus far, anyways. Her being his, his being hers. That was exactly what he desired, what he wanted.

He at up on the edge of the bed. "A-are we g-going all the way?" He asked, his throat suddenly dry and constricted.

She tilted her head, "Do you not want to?" It was as if she was having a hard time understanding the disconnect between what his feelings must be communicating to her and what his words had said.

"I-I do," he said, cursing his throat for making him stumble over his words.

"Then why?" she looked down at his hands.

Harry had followed her eyes' descent but didn't make it all the way there, logging Fleur was the better option, especially when he knew what she was asking.

"I-I want to do a ritual, when we have sex," he told her and then realized he hadn't actually explained the ritual at all. "I'm completing my sets and one of them has an option for me to do a ritual for sharing our most potent magical traits with each other." Seeing her bewildered look, Harry explained further, "You'll gain one from me and I'll gain one from you."

Fleur's hands dropped to her sided and she gave him a queer look. "I can't… do more. Well, more than one ." Fleur said, the way she spoke made it clear she was questioning things.

"You have to do a ritual still, to complete a set?" Harry asked, having had no idea she was a ritual short of completing a set of some sort.

"Oui," she replied, "all Veela do," she answered as if that was all there was to it.

Harry blinked, and blinked again, as he let the words sink in. Some elaboration sure would have been nice. "What does the ritual do and how many have you done?" Harry asked after a moment.

Fleur giggled. "You want to ask that now?" she glanced down at the bed, "When there are other things we could do?" She reached forward and trailed her fingers down his torso.

"I want to do the ritual and it requires it to be done when the woman is still a virgin." Harry stated, realizing he hadn't actually said that part.

Fleur laughed at him, "Really? My first time and you want to be focused on a ritual?"

Harry hadn't really considered that aspect of it. Was he asking for them to give up something by doing it? Was it just weird and selfish to ask for a ritual to be done as he took her virginity, and that of Natalia too, if it came to that.

Harry shrugged, "You might become a parseltongue out of it, or that's what I expect would be the magical trait."

Her musical laughter rang out again, "I'm not concerned with talking to snakes. I was trying to charm one out of your pants," her hand covered her mouth as she giggled and leered at his crotch.

"It's much, much more than that," Harry stated, slightly annoyed that the amazing gift he was offering was being so casually turned down.

Fleur shook her head, "Harry, I want you, all of you. Are we going to, or non?" she had a giddily incredulous expression as she stared at him. What a weird night this had turned out to be.

"I want to do the ritual but it will only count as mine, it won't be a ritual for you," Harry said and this whole situation was starting to feel surreal and weird. He was just about to have sex, for the first time in his life, with a French Veela that loves him, no less, and his fucking rituals are screwing up the mood.

"Fine. I'll do mine then, too," Fleur said with a shrug before she moved past him and went to her dresser, withdrawing a book.

Taking that as she was preparing her ritual, whatever it was, he decided to call for Dobby to bring him his instructions. Dobby quickly popped in and gave him the instruction while Fleur was out of the room for a moment.

Harry's heart was back to racing, but not from sexual tension or anything this time. It was nervousness. Like was she just going to not go through with this now? Should he even go through with it? It was clear Fleur was almost hysterical before but should he go ahead now? Would Daphne lose it on him for not meeting her criteria?

He didn't even know what to think of her.

He read over the ritual, trying to drive thoughts of Daphne from his head, thankfully it was rather simple. They had to drink a potion, one that he had pre-prepared, as it kept for up to ten years, and then Harry would have to mark Fleur's body with runes, runes drawn with a mixture of their blood. Fleur would have to draw the same runes on him, if he was not able to do so on himself.

Harry read on and his palms were sweaty as he considered what he was about to attempt. There were runes for her forehead, for just above her sex and one over her heart. Harry had the reciprocal runes and he realized they wouldn't be difficult to draw at all. This was a far less complex ritual than most of the ones he had done before.

Idly Harry realized that he had promised Daphne could see all his rituals but she would have to forgive him for foregoing this one. He was not going to have sex with Fleur and have a voyeur for it. This would be their moment, theirs and theirs alone, if it came to pass tonight.

Bloody hell, Daphne was back in his thoughts and he couldn't get her out, again. Well, if this was happening, she'd just have to be disappointed. It was clear to him that she wanted to get that contract done and use Salazar's library to end the progeny issues for her family line. Her pragmatism and business style approach to relationships had been useful so far. Honestly, if he was going to be married to Fleur and Natalia he would need a good mediator to smooth things over behind the scenes and Daphne certainly fit that criteria.

Harry shook his head. Here he was, quite possibly about to have sex for the first time in his life and he couldn't keep his thoughts from politics and magic. Like, shouldn't he have been freaking the fuck out right about now?

He, a fourteen year old, a young man just a few years removed from living in a bloody buggering cupboard under the stairs and he was about to score with a young woman that was impossibly good looking. Literally. She had magic that played a part in how ridiculously amazing she'd developed.

He was nervous and his adrenaline was running but shouldn't it be more? An older French Veela, almost sex incarnate, and he was worried about rituals and politics.

There was definitely something wrong with him.

Merlin, it'd be better thinking about how he could brag to Dudley about this, or anything. Well, okay, thinking about Dudley before possibly losing his virginity…

Fuck.

There was definitely something wrong with him. All that could be worse were Uncle Vernon and his sister…

Fuck.

Why couldn't his mind just stop doing this to him! Think sexy thoughts damnit!

Fleur in a bikini!

He shut his eyes and when he opened them, there she was.

He gave her a warm smile and couldn't help but goggle at her fantastic figure.

"'Arry," she said, failing to stifle a small giggle, "I'm ready."

Harry raised his eyebrow, "Ready?" that could mean a number of things.

Fleur's musical laughter filled the room again. "'Arry, we will never tell anyone about this. I come back into the room and tell you I'm ready and your first instinct is to question it?" she shook her head, smiling all the while, and stepped purposely towards him.

Fleur decided to have pity on him and answered his query, "'Arry, this ritual is marriage for a Veela. It will be me and you, pour toujours," she told him seriously.

It had taken some time but Harry's mind had supplied him with an idea of what was going on. When faced with sex, rituals and politics, his mind was prioritizing and compartmentalizing. Obviously it wasn't perfect but it was damn effective. When he was just faced with him and Fleur getting hot and heavy his body and magic responded perfectly. When there was something his mind deemed more important it prioritized it.

Harry had no idea if that was actually what was happening but it seemed as good a reason as any. Making mistakes that could lead to political disaster or magical ruination were two things that were far more important than losing his virginity, crazy hot French Veela or no.

Harry took a second to appreciate the view before him. He was being paid back tenfold for some of the garbage his life had to deal with. If he got to be regularly intimate with the young woman in front of him, he'd be willing to take on a few more problems if it was paid back like this. He almost snorted, Natalia and Daphne were incredible looking too and maybe this was how his stored up karma was being repaid.

"I am yours and you are mine," he repeated her earlier mantra, thankful that it came out in as strong a voice as he had expected it to.

She smiled beautifully at him, her lips pulling wide and her face aglow. "Veela do not share information about our rituals. Know I am prepared and will carry out my task."

Harry nodded, "Does it matter if you do it tonight or not?" He almost smacked himself for asking another question about rituals when she was ready .

Fleur giggled again as she stepped forward once more and placed a hand on his chest, "This time, next time, it would make no difference. As long as I do it early it is fine."

"Can I know what it does?" Harry asked, not bothering to try and mute his curiosity. It was better to just get it out and then focus on Fleur, solely and wholly on her.

She cupped his face and softly kissed his forehead. "It is good to know you are not driven by 'ormones 'arry. I'm ready for you to take me and your mind is stuck on academics." There was no anger or frustration in her voice, not even any disappointment. She smiled softly as the depths of her blue eyes took him in.

"I will not 'ave to worry about my allure after this," she told him and Harry showed his surprise, his eyes widening slightly. "I am anchoring myself in you. You will be the only one I want, the only one I desire. Magic will recognize you as my mate."

Harry's eyes didn't turn away from hers as she said that. A quick fleeting thought had him thinking that she was probably not allowed to give him exact details but it didn't bother him, she'd never demanded to know about the minutiae of his rituals either.

He initiated the kiss, softly, gently, he tried to show her his love, acceptance and acknowledgment of the wondrous gift she was giving him. Fleur could probably have most any man, and, of all of them, she was choosing him, to probably share him.

His hands worked up her body but he came to the quick realization that he was holding the potions they had to drink. He broke the kiss, feeling disappointed that this couldn't continue naturally, and gestured to the potions.

"We each drink one and then I'll need some of your blood, to mix with mine. I'll paint some matching runes on us, just three," he clarified at her worried look, "and then we can just go for it." His voice was quiet, more than a tiny bit regretful too.

He passed the vial to Fleur and the each quickly downed the contents. Harry withdrew his wand and vanished both of the empty vials before realizing a bit of overkill on privacy wouldn't be such a bad thing.

Fleur smiled softly at him and rolled her eyes as a few silent spells flashed out of his wand, overly securing the room. He stowed his wand away and grabbed the ritual knife. Deftly, with well a practiced motion he cut his palm and allowed blood to pool in it, he only needed a small amount.

Harry didn't need to gesture to Fleur, she held out her hand and he cut her, even if the thought of harming her made him cringe. "Sorry," he couldn't help but whisper as he cut into her. He held her hand and positioned it so the blood flowed down her finger and dropped right into his open palm, the one that already had some pooled blood. Harry took his free forefinger and mixed it thoroughly before indicating Fleur had contributed enough blood.

Harry took a deep breath and drew the first one on her head. He shouldn't have been surprised in retrospect but he had expected she might not enjoy having her forehead painted in their blood. Fleur just watched him intently and let him do what he needed to do.

With the first one carefully drawn he used her mirror to ensure he painted the same symbol on his own forehead. Fleur watched carefully and gave her approval that he had drawn the exact same symbol on his own forehead.

Next, Harry drew on the second and third, before returning to Fleur to complete her matching set.

"Once I activate them, it said things will progress naturally… That's it," Harry said, barely above a whisper.

Tilting her head, Fleur nodded. "I'm ready, 'arry."

His fingers contacted her forehead and Harry pushed enough magic in to activate it, before he did the same with the second and third runes painted on her body.

Immediately he could feel the rush of magic. His magic whirling and swirling around him. Her magic blazed and heated up around her, them, while he activated his own.

It must have only been a few seconds when a wave of magic burst from Harry, Fleur's magic reciprocating. It was intoxicating, overwhelming.

His mind began to lose focus, his magic was overpowering .

It was pouring out of him. His magical senses were being overloaded.

There was too much magic, it saturated the very air until he wasn't sure they'd even be able to breathe the magic-heavy air.

His body kept working, knowing, instinctually what he should do. His lips were on hers, his hands working her body and Fleur's weren't idle either. She knew exactly how to work him over, how to drive his body crazy.

A second wave of magic burst from him, an answering one came from Fleur.

It felt like the very air itself was on fire .

Was he breathing? Was he alive?

There was such a domineering magical presence that Harry felt like his body was being condensed, forced into itself.

Bam! A third wave of pressure emanated from him and Harry knew he couldn't take it anymore.

There was too much magic, there was all this pressure, all this magic around them that it couldn't continue. He couldn't take a fourth one!

Harry was struggling, he had no idea what was going on. He felt so overwhelmed and so, so very good. His body hadn't stopped working. His lips still on Fleur's.

Just when Harry was bracing for a fourth outpouring of magic the pressure reached its peak and suddenly everything changed.

All the pressure, the overwhelming presence of their magical outpouring, began to mix. Where their two magics had been distinct to his senses before, where he could feel his magic separate from Fleur's, the distinctions were lost now.

His magic was blending with Fleur's as if someone began to stir a large cauldron with angry contents that needed to be brought together before they exploded and destroyed their wondrous potential.

It kept going, their magic becoming indistinguishable from each other's. All the while Harry's mind was lost in ecstasy. Fleur was making him lose coherence. He was letting her allure dominate him and not regretting it for a second.

He wasn't fully out of control of his actions, he just felt like he was being guided. That somehow he just knew what he should be doing as the two of them seamlessly came together, physically, magically, emotionally.

Whatever their magic had been doing, it began to settle, no longer overwhelming his senses. It had moved on to some new state and was content to be there.

They kept going, their physicality growing second by second until he knew he was undertaking a task he'd never done before. Just as he began, their magic began to work. He could feel the three spots. It was as if they were the entry points and the conjoined magic was entering their systems.

Things became frantic now.

The magic kept going, imbibing into their very beings, the pressure inside of him built and built. He could feel her legs wrap around him, pulling him closer, her muscles tightening as the magic continued to escalate.

It kept on going, building and building and building. This pressure couldn't be contained, the ecstacy, the magic, it was all too much. Harry moaned and groaned as he grit his teeth trying to withstand it, as he tried to keep himself from exploding from within.

Minutes were seconds, seconds were minutes. Slow was fast and fast was agonizingly slow. Nothing and everything made sense all at once.

This couldn't continue. He was losing his mind.

The pressure built and built.

He grit his teeth harder, his controlled breathing wasn't anymore.

His breaths came fast and hard. Sweat poured from his brow and he could feel Fleur's magic in him. He could feel his in hers and he knew, the very core of him knew, there was just one thing left to do.

There was one inevitable conclusion and he couldn't keep it from coming.

His eyes focused on Fleur and somehow her eyes stared at him.

She was so beautiful.

She was his.

He was hers.

That was it. The final knowledge, that whatever was going on with them couldn't be contained anymore.

It was the end of ritual and the beginning of their togetherness.

Their magic reacted, the runes flashed, glowing brilliantly and the magic burst out from within them.

His body was spent, his magic exhausted. What had just happened wasn't just physical, it wasn't just mental or magical. It was all of those things and spiritual as well, there was something unquantifiable about what had just occurred.

Harry collapsed and rolled them over, his hand found her flushed face and he gently stroked it. Fleur tried to reciprocate, her hand reaching his face but it could do little more than that. She was even more spent than he was.

Harry's green eyes stared into her blue ones. He wanted to tell her she was his now and he was hers. He wanted to tell her they were one, they were together. He wanted to cry out woe to any that dared to try to take her from him.

But Harry couldn't. He couldn't tell her these things. He couldn't even muster the energy to tell her that he loved her.

His vision was failing, his muscles were relaxing and it took all of his willpower to keep his eyes open.

He focused on her, the bliss, the contentment, he watched as her lidded eyes began to shut. Her face slackened and he could see that was it for her, the lights were out.

He looked at her once more, forcing his eyes open a final time. Harry took in the amazing young woman before him, sleeping in his arms, and he couldn't help but thank whatever deity had made this happen.

She was his and there wasn't anything Harry could think of that compared to that, this. He drifted off, his body, magic, mind and spirit were wholly spent, he brushed her cheek one final time as his eyes shut and he knew no more.