Grimmauld Place 12, 1995.
Harry was wide awake inside the room assigned to him by Sirius, only wearing a t-shirt and his pyjama bottoms due to the rare heat outside. 'I wonder why Fleur came here?' the Last Potter pondered, slightly perplexed by the presence of the Beauxbaton champion. The claim of wanting to fight Voldemort seemed a good enough explanation for some, – the young woman being a Veela made her a prime target, after all – but Harry didn't buy it completely. His experience told him that there was an ulterior motive to it, though not a malicious one. He had a nose for that.
"Too bad that Hermione is asleep right now, I could use some distraction." he mused, regretting that Hermione took to the habit of sleeping during the night. Done to spend more time with him and not conform to her vampiric sensibilities too much. Further meandering ruminations were interrupted by a knock on the door. Wondering who it could be Harry stood up from the fluffy bed, making to open the door.
"Maybe it's Dumbledore finally telling me what's going on with that club of his?"
As he opened it all thoughts of that fled his mind as the previous topic of his thoughts was beyond the door.
"Fleur?! What're you doing here?" came the perplexed question. Not having expected to see the breathtakingly beautiful woman ever again after the tournament, much less seek him out. She was still incredibly gorgeous, as well as tall for a woman – but not taller than him anymore due to his recent growth spurt, Harry estimated. Though a cloak concealed her figure completely, only her bare and delicate feet peeking out below.
"Can I come in, Harry?" she asked, her accent by now barely audible. The woman, her blue eyes usually heavy with haughty regard, observing her surroundings as one who was accustomed to judging all before her, grew soft upon falling upon him. Silvery-gold hair fell above and past her shoulders, partly hiding the sublime features of her aristocratic face.
"Uh, sure." he said with shrug, barely preventing being tongue-tied as he let her in and stepped back. "What can I do for you?" he asked as Fleur closed the door behind her, watching her slightly fidget. He felt pulses of what he assumed was her Allure, slowly but steadily growing in strength. Luckily he was able to ignore the insistent niggling feeling at the back of his mind easily by now, not noticing how it slowly grew in strength still. Fleur looked much more relaxed now, as if she had been holding something in.
'Maybe she's nervous?' he thought, blinking in surprise at what he felt. However, for the life of him he didn't know why she'd be. She was after all as brave as him, having survived the same tasks during the Triwizard Tournament.
The Veela locked the door and cast a silencing spell around the room, visibly gathered her courage and gracefully approached him. Her wide hips – unable to be fully concealed by the cloak she wore – swaying hypnotically to an unknown rhythm. She grew more resolute and focussed the nearer she came, having come to a decision. Without warning, once she was near him, Fleur said. "This!" Then she gripped the back of his head, leaned down and pulled him into a searing kiss, massaging her pillowy lips against his. Her tongue tasted sweet as it plundered his surprised mouth. On reflex he kissed back, his ability as a Parselmouth making his tongue dexterous enough to put up a fight. Unconsciously his hands went to her hips, pulling her closer.
Strong winds picked up from nowhere, kicking up a considerable amount of dust from the old mansion and pushing it away from the pair. A cloak of light enwrapped them, rolled up around their shoulders, and flowed down to his heart. It lingered there, spreading warmth throughout his body like a flame.
"Wh...What?" was the eloquent reply of his as he finally managed to summon the willpower to disconnect, a string of saliva connecting their lips before surrendering to gravity.
Fleur seemed to enjoy the confusion in his wide emerald eyes, a small smirk on her full luscious lips as her eyes twinkled. He noticed they had changed now, neither wholly blue nor wholly grey, but shifting in-between dancing lights and clouds of colours undefined. "It is the price I pay for being a Veela." she told him impishly, susurrating sweetly in his ear. Her nails drove carefully over his scalp and hair, pulling him close and into her breasts. The action elicited a shiver of excitement and desire from him.
"I don't understand." he mumbled into her tits, softly and honestly, fighting to not give into his hormones and instincts. It was much harder to do now that he felt her enticing breasts squish into his face. He wanted to remain here and extract himself from her embrace at the same time, leading to indecision on his part.
The Veela sighed and explained, regretfully removing his head from her bosom. "You know Veela are creatures of desire and love, yes?" at his small, almost unsure nod she went on. "All magic comes with a price to be paid. Despite a House-elf's great power they are only to employ them in the service of another. Vampires gain immortality for the insatiable hunger of blood." at the mention of that Harry grew more attentive, remembering Hermione.
"And Veela..." words stuttered and stopped before she took a deep breath and continued. "Us Veela have our inhuman beauty and Allure to entrance men. The price for that is to turn reprehensibly ugly when enraged or jealous and only able to access our true power once we devote ourselves deeply and wholly to a worthy and compatible man. Despite being able to have an army of slavishly devoted but lesser men to ourselves."
While the majority of people believed Veela to be creatures of lust – due to their Allure and most of the abilities were sexual in nature – they were much more closely bound to love. Even able to feel gauge someone's capacity for love. And what she had felt and still felt from him was as immense as it was intoxicating.
A dainty hand reached up to caress his cheek, shimmering blue eyes locked in on emerald green. Fleur's Allure was ever increasing in potency, causing his pupils to slowly dilate as it circumvented his defences through the newly established bond. "You have proven yourself worthy at the World Cup, where you rescued me from Death Eaters without expecting compensation of any kind, creating a Life-Debt."
The confusion he felt soon gave way to realisation. His eyes widening told her he remembered the incident vaguely. "That was you?" he chocked out, not really having paid much attention to who he had rescued at the time.
"Oui!" she told him. "However, at the time I refused to accept it, my pride demanded I prove myself strong!" her hand fell from his face as she looked away briefly in shame, her gaze flickering to him and back. "So I decided to enter the Tournament to prove my strength and that I did not need anyone."
He tilted his head to the side, perplexed. "Was that why you were so condescending towards me in the beginning?"
She laughed down at the bewildered wizard. Her laughter was sweeter than the rippling of silvery fountains, and poisonous with cruel mockery directed at herself. "Indeed." she brought out ruefully. "However, all the tournament did was show me that I wasn't as independent or strong as I thought I was." a fond smile was now tugging at her lips. "Unlike you." Fleur remembered the ample help she had received from her headmistress, as well as his perseverance in the face of adversity. Not to mention that he had a similar problem as herself; with people only seeing his scar instead of him where they only saw her beauty. Seeing him and her as a thing they liked to possess, but not truly earn. A circumstance she could sympathise with deeply.
"Then you rescued me once more in the Black Lake from a pack of Grindylows, as well as my sister." true gratitude was now in her tinkling voice. Thankfully Gabrielle had never been in any danger – due to being petrified by the Draught of Living Death – and therefore no Life-Debt formed between her and Harry. Not that a child could've formed a Life-Debt to another anyway, otherwise all children would owe a hundred to their parents. One could only owe someone such a debt, minor or not, if their magic was mature.
The same was evidently not true for Fleur herself however. "That invoked a second Life-Debt to you."
When he made to speak she shushed him with a finger on his lips, knowing what he was going to say. "Still I refused and fought against my nature. All I did was torment and shame myself further. Only to tie my being ever deeper to you later on." by now the Allure she generated would be enough to make an ordinary man ejaculate himself into unconsciousness on the spot. For Harry that meant a grunt as sweat assembled on his brow and a painfully hard erection began tenting his boxers. "For in the maze of the Third Task you rescued me selflessly yet again, forming the third and last Life-Debt to you and cementing my fate utterly."
Without any reservation or further delay Fleur discarded her cloak, causing his eyes to nearly pop out of his head. His willpower hanging on by a thread at the vision before him.
Her body was like ivory to his dazed gaze, and save for a light jewelled girdle of gold around her hips, she was naked as the day. Fierce fingers of wonder caught at his heart, her Allure squeezing and pulling at him through their newly established bond. She was slender, yet formed like a goddess: at once lithe and voluptuous. Her willowy figure with buxom curves, alabaster limbs and the delightful globes of her breasts drove a beat of fierce passion through the wizard's heart. Her enchanting, flawless and smooth skin – all but begging him to touch it – had a subtle glow to it; now much more perceptible in the dark. All of it was rounded out by perfectly straight white teeth and silvery-gold hair.
By now her Allure was stronger than it has ever been and was still growing, an irresistible siren's call to the man before her. "Please, Harry. Fuck me!" her words plea and command rolled into one. Before her wand was discarded onto the bedside table she vanished the clothes on his body.
It revealed a swimmer's physique to her hungry gaze. His muscles weren't bulging but compact and his body built for speed. Fleur took it all in, from his shoulders – now wider than her own – down to his abs sculpted by fights and Quidditch and to his impressive manhood. It seemed Fate had compensated Harry for his misfortune in other ways. Not that magic couldn't help in certain ways to fix that.
'Maybe that's why he wears those baggy rags?' she thought absent-mindedly, licking her lips hungrily.
Harry's hands itched to sink into the supple flesh of her body, spurred on by her plea and the magic of her Allure calling and begging for his touch. A normal man would've been reduced to a blubbering mess, proclaiming their virtues and love before becoming a raving animal only capable of base instincts. A part of him did desire her deeply. He was a healthy red-blooded male with an interest in the fairer sex, and a treacherous part of his mind told him Hermione couldn't give it to him like this. A part that slowly grew, seduced by the sweetness of her magic's promises. It granted Fleur a foothold in his mind and heart.
Thankfully, the inhuman willpower that enabled him to overcome the Allure of a dozen Veela during the Quidditch World Cup, resist the debilitating effect of a hundred Dementors, throw off the Imperius Curse from Crouch Jr. and Voldemort, fight after being struck by the Torture Curse and more, allowed him to – if not resist – at least channel his desire in a different manner.
"Mere sex, Fleur?" he growled out lustfully, his emerald eyes boring into her eyes of shifting skies. "No. I think you want more!"
"What?" she squawked, a blush now stained her cheeks at the truth of his words. Her eyes were wide in surprise that he was still coherent in the face of the sheer desire invoked by an Allure fuelled by three Life Debts. Sure, he acted how she wanted, but not in the manner she expected. Namely drooling.
The Last Potter gripped her shoulders firmly. "To be touched." Harry told her as he pulled her closer, flush against him. One hand now on her smooth and soft upper back and another just above her shapely bum. The act flattened her breasts against his chest, letting him feel her stiff nipples as his raging manhood slid under and between her drooling pussy lips to peek out behind her arse. "To be adored."
A breathless gasp escaped Fleur's lips at his words, increasing her blush as her delicate hands sat flat on his chest and letting her feel the heat of his skin. "To be passionate." His words were accompanied by a grunt as he slowly see-sawed his pre-cum leaking cock through her pussy lips, putting delicious pressure onto her clit.
"Pr..Preposterous" she stammered out, looking away with a blush. Unable to keep eye-contact as his loving gaze became too knee-weakening. In spite of her words she hooked one of her legs around him to keep steady. "Keep this foolishness to yourself." the Veela shivered in need as his teasing hands wandered down her back to massage the fleshy globes of her perfect behind. "But... keep doing..." she moaned, hiding her face by leaning into his chest, eyes closed in bliss. "...what you're doing."
"See, you want to be caressed and teased." the Allure that spurred him on had replaced his usual bashfulness with confidence more appropriate for someone of his accomplishments.
His words were accompanied by him pulling her plush and pliant rump – more than his hands could hold – apart, spreading her outer labia open. Fleur's soaked pussy drizzled lube on his fat tip and shaft like a confectioner garnishing a dessert with honey. "Oh, fuck!" she mewled, realizing the slickness of her cunt was giving away her state of arousal. Another wave of Allure rolled towards and over Harry.
This time he gripped her chin firmly and forced her to look him in the eyes. "Just like this!" the forceful words were accompanied by an equally forceful kiss.
"Hmm." she moaned into his mouth, relishing the duel between her and his scrumptious tongue. Her heavily-hooded eyes fluttered nearly shut at that, her arms grasping at his shoulders and working together with her leg to pull him closer. The ecstasy went on for a few minutes as she melted into his embrace. Nearly forgetting everything around her as it went on.
His next words and actions brought her out of her stupor. "You want to fall..." he kissed her neck, sucking on her pulse briefly. "in..." his lips were near her ear when he whispered. "love."
By now she was blushing up a storm like a maiden, which she was. Still, her pride as a woman and a Veela demanded she make him work for the admission, to not surrender so easily despite already being utterly his. Even though her pride had been the reason why she was here in the first place. If she had approached him before or even after the first task and explained the situation, she still could've avoided further mishaps and choose another man. One Life-Debt, while significant, was not so debilitating – even for a Veela – as to prevent her from marrying another. Simply urging her to defend and support him.
All that went out the window when the second one occurred. Not having expected anyone to be so selfless, strong or have the opportunity to make such a thing possible. It pretty much guaranteed she'd constantly feel drawn to him like a moth to a flame, making a relationship with another man only possible with a disgusting cuck. Being that she'd never respect such a weak man, that was out of the question for her anyway. Due to her stubbornness she foolishly continued to ignore the matter at hand, irrationally hoping it'd go away out of shame for her weakness.
Once the third Life-Debt was established in the maze – after he had prevented the controlled Viktor Krum from killing her – and three being a very potent magical number, it ensured she'd only have eyes for him for the rest of her life. For how could she as a Veela ever repay such a massive debt, if not by giving herself completely in mind, body and soul?
Fate had decreed Harry James Potter as her mate in a manner beyond question.
"Y...You.." she cursed herself for the stammering and the truth of his words. The reason for her reluctance had been the loss of control she feared, despite knowing he'd never take advantage of her in any way. Otherwise he would've had plenty of opportunity. She tried to summon a haughty smile, but it came out wobbly. "Wh.. What.. What nonsense!" she denied in a warble, barely able to bring out the words for the poor lie they were.
She then weakly pushed herself away from him, standing on shaky legs as weak as a newborn fawn, her obvious arousal running down her legs. Yet she wanted to preserve some of her control. "A-All right! Enough of... of this foolishness." Fleur panted out as she turned, putting her hands against the wall and presenting her rear to him. She blushed at the lewdness of showing a boy – no, he could no longer be described as anything other than a man – her pussy and asshole this freely.
"Here." the Veela shook her enticing arse in invitation and need. Smouldering blue eyes briefly looked over her shoulder. "Grope my breasts. Take me from behind!" she cried out. Most importantly there would be no pillowed lips, sweet tasting tongue or gentle knee weakening eye-contact.
Harry grinned crookedly and shook his head. "Stubborn as always." he said, but complied with her wishes anyway. His hands gripped her bountiful tits and began squeezing the soft flesh, his fingers playing with her nipples all the while.
He lined himself up at her needy entrance and the spongy head mashed her pussy lips flat against her pubic bone before slowly spreading her open. "Oh… ooooooh!" she wailed, gritting her teeth before gasping. She was facing away from Harry, giving the young man a full view of her buttocks and asshole, and that lewdness only spurred her on to try to take more of him. When the first few inches slipped inside her slick tunnel, Fleur nearly blacked out from the stretching, reshaping pressure in her body. There was pain, but as his pipe sunk down further into her, it became overwhelmed by a dark sort of pleasure.
"To your liking?" one could hear the smugness behind the hiss of pleasure as her velvety heat enveloped his prick and began massaging it to spur him to orgasm. He ignored her noises and continued kissing her neck as he worked over her body.
'My pussy is… being stretched out' Fleur realized with a breathy gasp, unable to get enough air into her lungs to respond verbally. 'Why does it feel so good? It's… making my insides into his shape! Making me into his bitch!' Deep down Fleur knew that her gripping pussy and starving womb were going to finish what her kiss with him had started. Their goal to complete the bond between them and through it make Fleur utterly Harry's woman.
Her beautifully shimmering eyes fluttered a little as she sunk down onto eight inches of his thick cock, daring to push her curvy hips a little more onto him and take a little more, both ashamed and turned on by how well her body seemed to be adjusting to the size, as if she'd been meant, destined all along, to take such a huge cock in her pussy. Her juices slid down Harry's shaft in rivulets and the congress of his cock and her hole began to make indecent noises.
"Take it slow. Stop pushing onto me." he ordered with a grunt, his selfless nature still able to be worried for her in the haze of lust. His hands now gripped her waist tightly, trying to control her movement.
"Fool.." the Veela gasped out, insisting. "I-I can take more!" she wanted to enjoy the sinew of his lap, feel the heat between her thighs even more intensely. "Work it into me! Fuck me against the wall like a man should!" she growled out lustfully, Allure blazing. "Ravish me! Pr-Pry me open! Give me every inch!"
Harry did as told, pulling out a little before pushing his prick deeper into her slick pussy. "Fuck, you're tight!" he exclaimed as he worked it in. Each time he withdrew, her pussy seemed to cling to his shaft like a glove, a perfect bubblegum pink sleeve that prolapsed slightly from the tightness of the grip and his thick girth. He grabbed her hips tightly as his crown ravaged through her pussy and used his weight to shove forward some seconds later, feeling himself drive past any physical obstructions of her body, feeling her pussy lips pressing against the base of his cock.
They exhaled in tandem as their bodies locked together, Fleur now squished between the wall and him. Her pussy clenching so tightly that he couldn't withdraw. Not that he wanted to. "Oh, Fleur! This feels too good to move!"
The Veela was too busy being lost to pleasure to answer. Not that she could, the air having been pushed, fucked out of her lungs. Her plump lips were open in a silent wail, eyes half-closed, toes curled, hands clenched into fists and her body shivering as her sweat mingled with his.
"I can… feel it!" Fleur moaned obscenely, once she had gathered enough breath for words. "I can feel your heartbeat through your dick!" She was savouring the sensation of Harry's bell-end squishing and grinding against her cervix, as well as feeling every vein on his cock. The heartbeat she felt through his pulsing member making her feel as if it was rhythmically knocking against the door to her womb.
Suddenly and without warning, one hand played with her left nipple while the other' fingers rolled her stinging clit between his fingers. That combined with the sweet kisses at her neck brought her over the edge, causing her eruption. A geyser of liquid gushed from her pussy and splashed onto the floor. The resulting puddle wetting their feet.
Harry, eyes shut, concentrated on experiencing every nuance of her hot, wet insides as they undulated around his length. It was so tight and wet, like her pussy and womb were sucking his dick. And then, when she began to orgasm, he made a choked gasp of surprise. As Fleur made a subtle motion like a viper devouring prey, he felt her pelvic area contract and shift, milking his shaft upward and inward with a toe-curling pressure that he'd never experienced. She was massaging him with her insides, and it was unlike anything he'd ever felt before.
'No wonder Veela are so popular.' he thought absurdly, unaware that most people didn't know anything beyond the basics about Veela, him included. Soon the last edges of his control began to fade, only instinct guided by her Allure remained. He'd meant to take his time, but it was useless. No male could resist a bonded Veela in heat for long. So much so that he could feel virile sperm boiling in his balls as they squished, bulging, against the perfect hemispheres of his lover's bum.
Fleur felt his balls churn and contract upwards to rest against her rigid clit, together with his cock pulsing against her womb. "Do it!" she hissed fiercely, pressing back against him and doing dirty talk with what she instinctively knew he wanted to hear. "Fill me up! Use that stud cock and make my belly big with your baby!"
The Last Potter grunted and pressed in further, exhaling sharply as what felt like a tidal wave of semen rushed out of his spasming, dilating urethra. His cock was jammed as deep as it could go, crushed into the front of her sucking cervix, and when he finally popped, it came in a near-constant stream that flooded her instantly and filled every bit of her womb. Harry emptied his balls deep into her tight pussy, her milking twat lavished attention on his rod and helped draw out even the last dregs of semen from his balls. Her deepest, most needy reaches forever intimately marked as his breeding ground. He had shot a single, thick outpouring of cum for perhaps fifteen uninterrupted seconds, and her cries of orgasmic bliss had lasted almost twice as long. Her body had bucked like a wildcat, held in place only by his slightly greater weight.
Together they fell backwards, Harry propelled by Fleur's incessant pushing, barely aware enough to stumble back and cushioning their fall with the bed. As he lied there with Fleur atop him, a squelching sound accompanied the escape of excess cum from the super-tight seal of her pussy on his shaft, and it piled and made quite a mess on the bed sheets. But Fleur did not pull out, instead keeping his cock inside her cunt, plugging herself up and giving the full volume of his ejaculation time to do its work.
His attention was caught by Fleur once again, performing a slow lusty head turn. Her silvery-gold hair was a dishevelled mess, sweat clung to her form, her breasts were heaving and her sapphire eyes were intense. Yet she seemed a greater vision than before, her skin glowing stronger still. "More!"
Already strained willpower finally gave way and fully surrendered to her Allure for the time being. All thoughts not concerning the goddess before him fled from Harry's mind.
Both wouldn't separate for the night, nor leave the bedroom until morning. By that time they were nearly glued together permanently, dick to cunt, by a white viscous mixture of sperm and pussy juice.
Though, everyone present in the house would hear the commotion that resulted.
"He's mine, you Veela slut!" came the possessive hiss of a vampire.
"I won't give him up, for anyone. Do you hear, bloodsucker?!" was the equally haughty and proprietorial reply. "I am his by rights!"
It took a while for tempers to cool, and even longer for a semblance of cordiality to be established.
-?-
Battle of Hogwarts, 2nd of May, 1998.
Harry stumbled his way along the gloomy path leading further into the Forbidden Forest. It's trees oppressively closing in, seemingly about to consume him.
The Invisibility Cloak lay heavy on his shoulders while the Resurrection Stone burned a hole in his pocket. The last Potter tried to resolutely do his part to end Voldemort's reign of terror once and for all. That he had to die was par for the course, really. Not that it hurt any less after everything he, Hermione and Fleur went through and experienced in these past few years. All their shared moments and progressing relationship.
Following Voldemort's resurrection things slowly got worse and worse, with disappearances, raids, attacks and deaths mounting. During that time something called the Order of the Phoenix led by Albus Dumbledore was revived in their fifth year. Not that the group was effective or did much of anything; truth be told. Similar to how useless the Aurors largely seemed to be. At least Harry hadn't been dragged into that particular mess at the time and could focus on more important things, like trying to stop Fleur and Hermione from killing each other. Even if Defence against the Dark Arts had declined even more in quality, if such a thing was possible. But the new Professor, a toad-like woman named Umbridge, proved to be the most incompetent during all of their years at Hogwarts. Thankfully, Harry had done enough studying with Hermione and also Fleur to pass his O.W.L exams in Defence with flying colours, unlike the majority of his peers. A fact that was responsible for Umbridge being fired, as well as having tortured students on the side.
Like the previous years Harry did take a stand, knowing full well it would only land him in trouble and wouldn't be appreciated by staff or students. All while he battled nightly with Voldemort in his dreams, having used his acquired skill in Divination to analyse the connection and defend himself accordingly. Fleur also helped with her inherent abilities as a Veela, allowing her to soothe or even prevent nightmares. Even managing to lay a trap for the Dark Lord together and expose him to the public. At the end of that rather miserable year Dumbledore finally deigned to tell him of the prophecy. Not that it helped Harry in any way to know the useless thing, despite being more knowledgable in Divination than most. It being so vague that it could mean all kinds of things, including already being fulfilled during the Halloween of 1981. So, instead of focussing on that, Harry did what he had done in the years before and trained and prepared. All while looking for a cure for Hermione's vampirism together with Fleur.
During their sixth year the war raged half-secretly, clearly going in favour of the Death Eaters due to the sheer corruption infesting the government. The Ministry itself had barely hung on by a thread, and only because Voldemort laid low to build up his forces, breaking them out of Azkaban, recruiting from the continent and more. The conflict even spilled over onto the continent, to France, Germany and more of Europe. Luckily, while it increased the death toll, it also forced Voldemort's attention to other matters. It allowed Dumbledore to give him special lesson for the entirety of his sixth year, or that's what they were called. In truth they hunted for Tom's soul jars or Horcruxes. Harry even managed to use his connection with Voldemort and expertise in Divination to roughly divine the locations of these foul objects, making things considerably easier.
Then came this year and the Hunt for the Horcruxes, which went remarkably well all things considered. Right up until the battle of Hogwarts, which was at a ceasefire now.
'It had been a beautiful lie; thinking I'd be allowed to survive at the end.' he thought as memories of the last years flooded his mind and left as tears. A hole opened in his stomach threatening to swallow him whole.
The telltale twin crack of Apparition didn't even have time to disappear as Hermione and Fleur laid into him. Bodily tackling him and beating their fists on his chest. "Harry James Potter, what do you think you're doing?!" Hermione's shrill and choked up voice caused all nearby birds to abandon the area. Tears were streaming down her face, having felt all of his terror, grief and some of his jumbled thoughts.
A weak and tired smile appeared on his face and was gone just as quickly. "It's the only way." he said solemnly, hugging both lightly. Not even trying to hide the tears escaping his emerald eyes. "You can both go..." despite his intention to bury his heart he couldn't get the rest of the words out. Every last one stubbornly stuck in his dry throat. He swallowed heavily and took a deep breath to gather himself. "I just wanted to think, if only for a moment, that somebody's life was better for me being in it." Harry settled on saying. "I can't drag you both down, too."
"My life is nothing without you." Fleur swore, sending him all the love she could muster through the bond.
"You're an idiot, if you think I'll leave now, much less be able to live without you!" Hermione mumbled into his chest, taking his right hand with her left in a vice grip. "Just tell me why you think you have to do this." she pleaded in distress, her eyes beseeching him to explain. From their connection Hermione knew how he felt and how much it hurt him to do this.
'He's just his stupidly noble self and trying to leave us out of it.' Fleur and Hermione thought a variation of that thought with a mix of emotions swirling in their guts. Hermione had half a mind to send the thought to him to make her point, but deciding not to.
Everything had been going better after either of their bond had been established. Finding Horcrux after Horcrux and able to dispose of them with the Sword of Gryffindor that all but belonged to Harry. Though, their methods had become more lethal with Umbridge dead and House Malfoy extinct due to Fiendfyre, courtesy of Fleur. Harry's connection to Voldemort had also been weakened; even allowing him to slip into Tom's thoughts from time to time through his experience with their bond. The only drawback had been that all three couldn't sleep without the other in the same bed. Something that neither of them saw as a negative, really.
Not able to deny Fleur or Hermione anything, Harry did tell them all of the most important bits of what he saw in Snape's memory. Every word of his was accompanied by an emotion due to his vulnerable state of mind that filled her in more. When he was finished both young women cursed Dumbledore and Snape to the deepest pits of hell. That was the their grand plan? If the last years hadn't already disabused her of the notion that authority was infallible, this certainly killed the rest of it. That didn't even include the sheer creepiness of Snape's obsession with a dead woman.
"Maybe you could use your Animagus form or use the cloak; catch Tom by surprise?" the young woman implored desperately, looking into his eyes. All but begging as she clung to him. Harry having undergone the process successfully during their time hunting Horcruxes. The Animagus Potion had not been difficult to make nor required it many resources. One only needed time and patience, which was what they had had in spades during their time on the Horcrux Hunt.
Harry remembered that part of their journey fondly, recalling how it helped them immensely in infiltrating Death Eater hideouts and other places. It had also let him feel closer to his father's legacy. Since then Harry was able to become a raven, with his typical lightning bolt sitting on his forehead as the identifier. In Hermione's eyes Harry could already see other ideas and thoughts taking shape to try and make the best of this mess.
He shook his head, wiped her tears away with his left hand and smiled sadly. "There are too many for surprise to work for long. While they might not question a rave at Malfoy Manor I doubt it'll help us much here with Tom nearby. Not to mention that Nagini is still alive and protected by that magical bubble, keeping Voldemort alive too." Harry squeezed her hand affectionately and opened his mouth to speak.
"I'm not changing my mind!" Fleur talked over him, already knowing what he was about to try and convince them to do. Her sky-like eyes still spilling more tears she didn't bother to wipe away.
Hermione insisted, her voice brokering that no argument would sway her. "We did everything together and this will be no different!" It showed that both of them could be as stubborn as mules and Harry knew that very well.
"It's not what I had hoped you would say, but what I feared." Harry told them, not knowing just what to feel at having failed to leave both behind and save them. Affection and gratitude warred with grief and sorrow, but the support and unwavering love he felt from the bonds made it easier. So he send his own back. Followed by leaning forward to put his arms around them and whispering reverently. "I love you both!" the words meant as much and more as the first time he said them. Each word feeling like it was torn out of his chest, but he spoke them gladly.
"I love you, too!" Fleur choked out, smiling shakily at him that did nothing to detract from how beautiful she was. She stood on her toes, took his face in her hands and kissed him once more.
Hermione then claimed her own, meeting him in a last tender kiss. She swung her arms around his neck, with Harry's hands on her waist.
With both of them in his grasp, Harry cast a silent 'Stupefy', causing both of them to go limp in his arms. Followed by him laying them on the ground and transporting them back to Hogwarts via a Portkey, thankfully still within the wards to accomplish travel inside of them. They had been unable to sense his intent because there had been no thought in his brain of betraying them. Rather to keep them safe and sound.
Finally, with strengthened resolve Harry made his way to Voldemort. Dementors soon circled him, but were made short work of by their corporeal Patroni, a beautiful and majestic Thestral. The spell sprang forth easily and was much stronger for him now than never before. Not only banishing the wraiths, but disintegrating them entirely and leaving naught but ash behind.
It did not take much longer to locate Voldemort and his inner circle. He did not hear the taunts or jeers of the Death Eaters, the Last Potter was completely focussed on Tom Riddle.
A green flash of light erupted from the Elder Wand and it was over.
-?-
Forbidden Forest, 2003.
An unnatural gloom shrouded these foreboding woods, mist at every tree's root. A wavering shadow was exuded by tree and stone alike, by every shuddering bush and fluttering leaf. Air amid the looming trunks was thick and hot, silent and breathless, but also still, close, and musky with mildew. It was somehow uncomfortably warm and bitterly cold all at once. The gnarled trees closed in, their branches grasping skyward like skeletal limbs, their dusky leaves thronging to oppress light and hope. Only blood-coloured mushrooms and thorny creepers survived in the assembled shadows where the trees whispered and wheedled. Paths among them stretched into darkness, beckoning forebodingly.
Most animals were still sleeping at this hour, only a few owls were gliding silently through the canopy. Trees were just beginning to lose their leaves, only some held gold and red among the green in their boughs.
"We're nearly there." Harry told his only companion. All the labours of the last few years would successfully culminate here, he hoped.
"I hope nobody messed with our preparations." Hermione grumbled behind him, the anticipation and anxiety easily carried by her voice. "I'm hungry enough as it is."
Harry promised her with a chuckle. "When it's over I'll make you a feast worthy of a queen." Harry couldn't help but smile. "Besides, do you really think anyone could've messed with stuff, with all the wards we put up?" he asked rhetorically and with some sarcasm. "You an Fleur carved the runes yourself. Anyone uninvited coming near it would be befuddled to such a degree they'd have no idea where or who they are." he stopped and took her cold hand in his warm one, smiling at her brightly. "Relax, we've mastered all other trials before. This one shall be no different." he knew Hermione was always the most stressed before an exam, still was. And this was arguably the biggest one of their lives yet.
"I'll hold you to that." the vampire huffed, her lips twitching while threatening to smile until they finally did. All while she squeezed his hand affectionately. "And, thank you!" Hermione looked upon him fondly as she did so; noting the various physical changes he had undergone, unlike her.
Somewhere after their education Harry had hit his true growth-spurt, his body filling out nicely while having collected more scars. Harry's lean but muscled frame now reaching about 6'2 feet. His hair was still a bird's nest of a jet black colour, spilling like fresh ink from his scalp. Though, his skin's pallor was by now very pale, either through prolonged time spent studying indoors or his practise of necromancy. Hermione suspected the latter, knowing that strong magic left its mark physically. A fact that was shown clearly by Harry's left eye now being crimson and possessing a pupil slitted like Voldemort's had been and as her own were right now. His right was still that deep and soothing emerald green.
She noted once more how strangely the moonlight, or any light, danced in both of his eyes; like it did ever since the Battle of Hogwarts. As if to give evidence that his very soul had undergone a profound change. 'A remnant of having his soul intertwined with that madman's for such a prolonged time. As well as touching and returning from the lands between.' Hermione thought sadly. Just one more reason why they weren't seen in public often. That memory brought with it the pain of Harry's death and what happened to make it so. Both Fleur and Hermione had been furious, but also quick to forgive due to him surviving. Having reluctantly admitted there had been little time or room to find other solutions. Even if they hadn't left him out of their sight for a full year, lest he repeated that stupidity.
'At least, having the Horcrux removed repaired his vision.' Hermione tried to find the good in that whole scenario. She also found the glimmer in them fit him as an experienced diviner.
The battle had been brutal and many perished, but at the end of it all Voldemort was mortal once more due to the death of Nagini. All of his Horcruxes were finally destroyed, including the one inside Harry. Due to him willingly catching a Killing Curse during battle, having died briefly and meeting Dumbledore in the lands between. While people were grateful to be rid of Voldemort, they didn't appreciate how Harry did it, namely with necromancy. Much stronger necromancy than he'd ever been capable of before having all the Hallows in his possession. Something that gave him much to think about. Though, neither Hermione, Fleur or Harry knew how the populace expected a Hogwarts student to make a dent in that particular Dark Lord's forces with disarming charms and the like.
On top of it Harry had prevented the masses from killing Voldemort's child, which had been discovered in Malfoy Manor a few days after the last battle. Harry obviously wouldn't stoop to the level of Voldemort and so basically adopted the little girl named Delphini together with Fleur and Hermione. Seeing too many parallels to himself to be comfortable with simply abandoning the innocent little girl.
To prevent some kind of disaster the trio left Magical Britain, going into seclusion in the Muggle World in France. Nothing tying them to the magical one in the least. Sirius, Remus, Kreacher, Dobby, Winky and many more were dead as well because of the war, while others became estranged over the years. Sadly even Fleur's parents had died in the war, fighting in the few skirmishes that had been fought in France. The only one they kept in sporadic contact with was Hagrid through Hedwig and the Delacour family due to living next to each other.
Besides, Harry's journey was not over until he found a cure for Hermione. With his N.E.W.T scores being an outstanding on average he had many avenues open to him. In the end he chose to apprentice under Nicolas Flamel in Alchemy. The man was still alive, living with his wife in France and possessing enough elixir to complete Harry's education in that particular waning art; wanting to pass on as much of his knowledge as possible so that it may live on. Even if the secret of the Philosopher's Stone should die with him. Harry had proven himself over the years of their correspondence by letters and written tests. Not to mention his valour shown by Voldemort's defeat.
'Everything he has achieved, all while dealing with my and Fleur's problems as well.' Hermione thought guiltily, smiling back at him as he noticed and gave her a soft reassuring smile over his shoulder. Obviously feeling her guilt through their connection. In the beginning the two young women had nearly always been at each others throats, both of their pride, stubbornness and headstrong personalities clashing. It had mellowed out by now. So much so that Fleur was back home, trusted to watch over Delphini by Hermione.
Hermione's state of being had presented itself with unique challenges in that regard. With her becoming more greedy, gluttonous, prideful, lustful, envious, wrathful, and all in all more inhuman. Love had turned into an hungry obsession, while friendship became bitter jealousy. During that time she seemed to be an evil monster with only her memories, not because she was herself, but because whatever she became used it as a guide to shape itself. Not that Veela were much better in the jealousy department, leading to frequent fights between Fleur and Hermione.
The only thing preventing Hermione's complete and utter descent into vampirism was the Blood Oath binding her to Harry. It gave her a fleeting semblance of life, letting her feel his heartbeat as her own and gifting her with his emotions freely. A measure without which she would've long since degenerated into a state of apathy and dark, perverted desires. It was a leash to restrain her and simultaneously a tether to what remained of her humanity. The vampire part of her despised it furiously, while her remaining humanity cherished the bond. It made for a confusing state of being where Hermione sometimes hated that she loved Harry, and loved that she hated him.
Luckily, the bond with Fleur also helped ground her in human emotions, by amplifying what she felt from Harry's side. Fleur only worked part-time at fer family's vineyard, so she could focus more on becoming a housewife. Choosing that role despite her obvious magical abilities, though that did not mean she let them go to waste either. Simply enjoying the peace and quiet while mourning her losses together with Gabrielle in a different way than Harry or Hermione.
Hermione herself even became an Unspeakable for the British Ministry. Mostly to keep an eye on things back there, but also to satisfy her own hunger for knowledge. It came as a favour from Shacklebolt, not that Hermione's credentials weren't sufficient on their own, but bigotry still held fast within the ministry. Her area of study being runes and work largely revolving around the Veil of Death. Thankfully, the secrecy involved in that job made sure only Kingsley knew who she was in truth. Hermione only ever arrived per Floo and never left the department itself.
Through the Resurrection Stone Herpo the Foul, the Founders, Merlin, Morgan le Fey, Ekrizdis and many more provided long forgotten knowledge or ideas used to find a cure for Hermione. After years of accumulating knowledge from Hogwarts, the Black Library, the Chamber of Secrets, and from the Flamels, a solution was finally in reach. Well, that, and a little bit of Liquid Luck also helped things along towards a working solution. Just a little more of a year after the peaceful deaths of Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel.
As both emerged from the dense and overgrown forest they found themselves in a clearing with no perceptible edge. All around them, a verdant world awaited under the shade of a twilit sky. The looming shadow of an abandoned and decrepit henge of stones laid in the distance, shrouded by a thick, heavy mist that rendered their vision blurry after about twenty feet. This circle of standing stones held power. It gathered here from the Leylines, drawn into the menhirs from beyond the earth. Harry felt its passage by him like a wind. It pulled at the hairs on his body, even under his clothes.
"Let's finish preparations, then." he proposed to Hermione, who was already springing into motion. Both of them set out to check for any faults. Harry went over the transmutation array, while Hermione took care of the ritual circle.
Inside the circle of stones stood an iron framework depicting a stylized skeleton: four iron rods, fashioned to look like skeletal arms and legs supported an open platform within a ribcage. Three wrapped bundles lied within the upward curving ribs. Under the platform, firewood formed a precise cube with ample space for airflow. Magical symbols, carved into the stone floor and encircling the pyre, flared as flame licked the tinder under the massive bathtub-sized cauldron. Inside said cauldron sat a potion painstakingly prepared for two years through alchemy and ready for this very occasion. Ingredients included ash, tears, pellets and feathers from a phoenix, dragon blood and many more costly and rare ones coming from creatures. Those from plants included Pritcher's Porritch, Witch's Ganglion, Niffler's Fancy and even the mythological Thaumatagoria of legend, courtesy of the now deceased Flamels.
Everything was in order, as was the date. Today was the Autumn Equinox, symbolically signalling the start of new beginnings and fresh starts. A time of harvest, of death and rebirth. A gibbous moon hung in the firmament above, spending its humble light to illuminate the world below as dawn neared ever closer.
Finally it was time to make death and life touch.
Next Hermione took a crystal phial from one of her pockets. She opened her mouth and pulled the Mandrake leaf out. It was thoroughly soaked by now, having stuck there for the entire month of her fast. She swiftly put it into the phial, adding a hair and a teaspoon of dew from a place untouched by sunlight for a week. As well as a chrysalis of a Death's-head Hawk Moth. Normally it'd become an Animagus Potion, but in this case it was just an additive for today's transmutation from vampire into human.
Without further delay she added it to the simmering potion, causing the blue liquid to change colour to a deep purple. While Hermione did that Harry checked the temperature and fetched the next item; two litres of Unicorn blood coming from the eleven in their possession. Thankfully they didn't have to kill a Unicorn to take it, simply buying it from some unsavoury sources in Knockturn Alley. As such the curse it normally invoked wouldn't apply, only affecting the unfortunate idiot who killed the poor unicorn.
"Here," Harry handed her the goblet full of the shimmering silver liquid. "bottoms up."
Hermione grimaced at the thick argent substance, but a look at the sky told her they didn't have much time left. The veil of night protecting her slowly lifted, giving way to soft pinks and pale yellows that stained the ruffled sheet of clouds sweeping across the morning sky. The warm glow of the sun peeked warily over the horizon, as if to confirm the moon's slumber. Dim light and a gentle breeze illuminated the nearby surroundings, which had laid just beyond the edge of darkness until dawn.
The blood tasted ambrosial, the velvet mouthfeel passing over Hermione's tongue and down her throat with the ease of taking a breath. Of all things, the aroma of freshly cut grass and currants flooded her nose. An image of unicorns, grazing on a plain and vibrant in the rising sun, took over her mind. It was on the same level as Harry's blood in terms of taste, which was the highest compliment Hermione could give any vintage.
Then they waited anxiously for dawn to truly start, staring in trepidation at the light enveloping more and more of the forest as shadows began to lengthen. Soon the sun rose over the horizon, a golden light suffused the sea of clouds above them like divine favour poured from the heavens. The deep black of night caressed the breathtaking colours of dawn in the sky as the stars glow diminished slowly, their iridescent beauty dying in that celestial vista.
Hermione took it all in, relishing the view that had been denied to her without expensive precautions. Though, this time she'd greet it without any; the ritual needing her to be vulnerable and having fasted for a moon's turn. Seeing that it was time she stripped down with a sigh, folding her clothes into a neat pile and laying the pearl containing their Blood Oath on top.
She stood still, ready to have the unlife purged from herself with flame, symbolically and literally. The scents of iron and burnt meat was the fist sign of things to come. Small wisps of smoke lazily began to dance over her pallid skin, caressing it lazily. Followed by her skin sizzling and steaming as the heat began to eat through her body. Soon Hermione's surroundings were a whirlwind of burning smoke and ash, a firestorm unending fuelled by primal flame as her body ignited. The roar of the fire swallowing her screams of agony. For once Hermione was thankful that she didn't need to breathe.
Moving with the light, never once trying to hide in the shadows, Hermione struggled as she walked aflame towards the cauldron. Yet the unicorn blood kept her alive, preventing her from crumbling into a smouldering pile of embers too soon. Her body slowly became charred and blackened still, undead skin bubbling and sloughing off her body. She could practically feel the silvery blood inside her body burning up, and death rapidly approaching.
Then, time resumed, and she arrived at the same moment as the rays hit the cauldron. The liquid instantly changed colour to deepest black as soon as the light of dawn struck the surface. Not waiting a second more Hermione cast herself into the mixture, flames and all. The fluid swallowed her whole, not creating a single ripple and becoming white in colour.
As the process started it was difficult beyond measure for Hermione to follow Harry's advice for the entirety of the ritual. That she shouldn't look back on her life and reach out to hold and cling to it, nor to look ahead and embrace the Great Beyond. Both were especially difficult for a vampire. Instead, like he had done at his own death, she was to stay at the moment of transition; where she was both what she was and what she would become. To dwell on that moment, that endless instant when life ended and death began. By the end of it she wasn't sure if she succeeded or not.
Finally came Harry's part in the procedure. First he increased the temperature of the fire. Afterwards the wizard strode forth to stand before the cauldron and with a flick of the Elder Wand he levitated the first bundle out of the iron ribcage. The package slowly unravelled itself, revealing a pair of finger bones.
"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your daughter!" he intoned, letting the pale bones splash into the cauldron, causing it to steam harder and beginning to bubble slowly. The runes of the ritual circle flickered to life, glowing softly.
Next came the second bundle, the cloth stained red from the grisly but precious cargo it held. A slab of still fresh meat unveiled itself as Harry continued. "Flesh of the mother, forcibly taken, you will revive your daughter!" with a splash it was put into the mixture, causing it to boil violently and hiss spitefully.
Harry had acquired those two ingredients just last night by himself. Mercifully, Hermione's parents didn't remember the encounter or their daughter. Neither were either of them harmed more than they had to. 'Sadly I couldn't grow anything back without ruining the ritual.' Harry thought guiltily, but stamped that feeling down. 'If they'd loved Hermione they could've done it willingly.' even if Harry didn't know how it would've impacted the ritual. So maybe it was for the best in the end.
Lastly the wizard unveiled the final bundle, revealing the last Philosopher's Stone created by Nicholas Flamel. Drawing a line across his palm with a cutting curse from the Elder Wand, Harry drew blood from himself before gripping the crimson stone with it. "Blood of true love, willingly given, you will resurrect your love!" the blood that came into contact with the powerful artefact changed from crimson to shining gold before dropping into the potion. Followed immediately by the Philosopher's Stone itself. As a result the potion changed colour for the penultimate time, going quickly to a deep citrine.
With that accomplished Harry put the tip of his wand at the edge where the ritual and transmutation circle met, pouring every bit of his magic into it and drawing from the earth's Leylines as well. The intersecting and elliptical lines of magic flared up around their target – gold and silver – seemingly spinning around each other to create a static hum, and sparking like blades at a grindstone. Runes hovered in the air around him before disappearing with a shimmer, as if they were phantom lightning bugs.
Around him, the standing granite faces now winked with wisps of green magic, flickering like swarms of fireflies. Harry's messy hair stood on end and he felt the teeth hum in his mouth. A pressure built against his inner ear, as if he was plunging deeper and deeper into water down into an endless abyss. The sky above the menhirs lightened, with dappled rays of sunshine breaking through the dense canopy as dawn began in earnest. It felt as if soon nothing would exist except him and the henge of stones as golden motes of magic bobbed along the ground, which soon jumped into the broth.
Things seemed enchanted or pregnant in that moment with the sheer possibility of magic. A greenish glow highlighted the metal of the cauldron and other reflective surfaces, and eerie, ethereal singing could be heard from afar. Time condensed into the present moment; concerns about the past or future seemed less pressing, less real. The beat of his heart hammering inside his head, although the silence between beats were hints of eternity. Things moved in slow motion, but with sublime grace and beauty that nearly moved him to tears.
The alchemical ritual then reached its crescendo, causing the cauldron to be utterly consumed by blissful golden flames as Hermione's body formed itself anew. In a flash it was over, blinding Harry briefly and causing him to look at the ground.
When it was over he raised his head with a mixture of hope and dread in his heart. What he saw took his breath away.
There in the light of dawn stood a sublime being that shone with splendour.
Hermione's heart-shaped face was stunning, luminous, mysterious. While at the same time being inviting and framed by long hair of lazy curls and ringlets, which were tickling at the small of her back. The tresses were the colour of golden bronze, shimmering with the colours of the dawn when struck by light; gold, pink and blue sheens dancing subtly over it. Her eyes, unlike Harry expected, were not a warm chocolate brown. Instead both were a black so dark no pupil was discernable, easily able to show him his reflection as he looked into that hypnotizing abyss. Yet for Harry they showed a gentle fondness and deep love.
Her skin was the colour of alabaster, and yet radiated spellbinding vitality as if she was physical perfection personified. Every curve and transition of her buxom figure was ideal, each limb a testament to supernal design. She was just about 5'5 tall, but no longer a teenager. Instead, like the harvest to come, she was full-figured and ample. Be it her curvaceous hips, enticing bum or beckoning breasts. Her luscious and full lips smiled sweetly at him, and from her slender feet to the blinding crown of billowy hair, her ivory body was as perfect as the dream of a god.
However, that first impression belied the raw strength slumbering underneath her skin, shown by her pronounced and tightly coiled muscles all over her body. Apparently having kept a vampire's strength to some extent in her new body. In Harry's opinion it did not detract from her femininity in any way.
Upon closer inspection there were certain imperfections, despite Hermione apparently keeping the stunning physique of a vampire, challenging the beauty of Veela. Her smile revealed only sharp teeth, being shark-like. Nothing like the needle-like ones of a vampire but surely unsettling for those unfamiliar. She had no navel to speak of, evidence of her strange birth. She also did not blink any more than when she was a Vampire.
For everyone else everything about her exuded a combination of strange beauty and terror in equal measure, but in Harry's eyes she couldn't be more resplendent.
"Hermione?" Harry asked, voice thick with emotion. Hoping with every fibre of his being that she was only changed in body, despite clearly feeling her elation and happiness through their Blood Oath.
Said reborn witch looked and touched her body up and down, making sure everything was in place, feeling for her own heartbeat and relishing the renewed warmth of her body. She took a deep breath, half-fearing that she had forgotten how. Followed by looking at the light of the sun, and stretching out her arms in greeting. The smile on her face only grew as she became giddy as she felt only a pleasant warmth and not burning heat.
Harry was beside her a moment later, her old wand in his hand to truly confirm it. Hermione wasted no time and took the object with trembling hands. As soon as she made contact a wave of power erupted from Hermione in joyous reunification, rustling the leaves of the trees.
"It worked!" she exclaimed ecstatically, laughing hysterically as joy overwhelmed her being. Then, without warning, she flung herself into his arms, blubbering into his chest. "Thank you!" repeating the words over and over like a prayer.
His arms instinctively went around her, keeping the witch close. "Anything for you." he murmured, kissing the crown of her head.
She separated a little, looking at him with a smouldering gaze that promised all kinds of things. Only for her stomach to rumble mightily. She blushed, hiding embarrassedly in the crook of his neck. Still licking at his pulse out of habit, saying. "How about that feast you promised me?"
"Of course." he replied in amusement, his hold on her tightening and his happiness overflowing.
-?-
Department of Mysteries, Chamber of Death, 2007.
The room was large, dimly lit and rectangular, and the centre of it was sunken, forming a great stone pit some twenty feet below. Harry and Hermione were standing on the topmost tier of what seemed to be stone benches running all around the room and descending in steep steps like an amphitheatre. There was a raised stone dais in the centre of the lowered floor, and upon this dais stood a stone archway that looked so ancient, cracked, and crumbling that Harry was amazed the thing was still standing. Unsupported by any surrounding wall, the archway was hung with an ephemeral curtain or veil which, despite the complete stillness of the cold surrounding air, was fluttering very slightly as though it had just been touched.
"Are you sure this'll work?" came the voice of none other than Harry James Potter, eyeing the rippling curtain of wailing souls fearfully. Not fear for himself, of course, but for Delphini.
"We can still back out now." Hermione's muffled voice informed him primly, working to make sure the Veil of Death was ready and not somehow tampered with by any of her colleagues.
Fleur shook her head. "No! I doubt we will get another chance quite like this."
Harry held a sleeping Delphini close to his chest, despite knowing the girl wouldn't wake for anything due to a Dreamless Sleep Potion. Harry admitted. "I'm just... worried, you know." people were bound to notice what was currently happening, be it today or tomorrow. Besides, everything was prepared already. What with them having stored all of their material wealth, knowledge and more supplies inside an enchanted trunk, which was currently sitting in the mokeskin bag hanging around Harry's neck. To not arouse suspicion Harry wore his Invisibility Cloak and over Fleur's and Hermione's forms were draped the uniform robes of the Unspeakables, one set stolen for the Veela. With Harry even decked out in his Basilisk armour and carrying the Sword of Gryffindor at his side, just in case things went wrong on the other side.
Hedwig was magically asleep inside the trunk, Harry hoping that it would give her some protection.
Hermione and Fleur knew exactly what he meant, completely aware that he didn't doubt their methods, hypothesis or capabilities. After all, it was entirely reasonable to be worried about stepping through the Veil of Death and expect to survive; much less doing so with a nine-year-old child like Delphini. She had considered the Veil to be unnatural at first sight, having needed some time to come to terms with it and explore its secrets slowly. Only truly learning to believe through Harry's help over the years, despite still favouring rational thought as opposed to instinct or impulse.
Besides, it had been a taxing few years for all of them. Harry's and Hermione's joy at the successful transmutation of Hermione's body from undead to alive was dampened by the increased annoyance the magical public made themselves. It started small, like such things always did, with some idiot harassing them. Then it expanded to the few times they visited Hagrid's grave at Hogwarts – the Half-Giant had been killed by leftover Pureblood Supremacists – or when they bought something in Diagon Alley, even receiving cursed mail when outside their wards. No longer were they ignored, but something had shifted public opinion firmly in the negative. Rumours planted seeds of mistrust that grew and grew until they were towering oaks, overshadowing all of their prior achievements.
It even spilled over into other countries too, their own fame now working against them. Only added to by the fact of Hermione's restoration to life viewed in a suspicious light. As such every accusation had been levelled against them, ranging from them practising the darkest of magic and sacrificing people to making deals with demons. While they hadn't expected anything different from the Daily Prophet, the other countries doing the same were a surprise, however. From Shack they were told that some governments were somehow aware of Harry's status as Master of the Deathly Hallows. Even Shacklebolt couldn't do much but try to slow the tide. Between that, Delphini still being seen as an abomination, and Hermione's resurrection, they were all but hunted.
Facts that put a damper on things due to them not really wanting to live as Muggles. Not that such guaranteed their safety anyway. Neither did they want to live hidden or in a constant state of paranoia.
During the first year of this new debacle it got so bad an absent-minded comment from Harry sparked an idea in Hermione. It was a hypothesis she had formed while working on the Veil of Death in the Department of Mysteries. Namely that the Veil was more than just a shortcut to the afterlife, but a gate to someplace else when you knew how to activate it. More specifically the metaphorical bridge the three Peverell brothers had been trying to cross in the Tale of the Three Brothers. With the Resurrection Stone's help Hermione learned more than she could've hoped for. And all they needed was someone who had united all the Hallows and became the Master of Death. Normally an impossible venture, but as usual, for Harry the impossible was merely improbable.
"Okay, you need to... " Hermione began the explanation again before she was interrupted by Harry.
"He knows, Hermione." Fleur rolled her eyes before smiling teasingly at her, hoping to ease the tension. "We've gone over it often enough."
The wizard chuckled at that and shrugged off his Invisibility Cloak, answering calmly as he handed Delphini over to Hermione. "True."
Just as he said that the pair could hear footsteps approaching rapidly, followed by shouts of alarm.
"Hurry!" the beautiful and reborn witch urged, holding the sleeping girl gently as she tried reciprocating his smile in kind. Briefly sending all kinds of reassuring emotions through the bond, but only managing to heighten her own nervousness. A feeling reminiscent of simpler times at Hogwarts.
With that done Harry swiftly began the procedure by throwing his Invisibility Cloak towards the rippling curtain of ghostly vapour. An imperceptible gust of wind picked it up and draped it over the arch. "Reveal the path!" he intoned, making the fluttering curtain flash a bright silver. The words did not echo in the cavernous room, but seemed pregnant with meaning. Harry's footsteps as he approached the arch were loud, as though his weight had suddenly increased to match a giant.
The interlopers grew closer, their discordant cacophony an affront to what was happening in this sanctum. Their eyes wide with fear and disbelief as they saw what was happening, trying futilely to prevent it.
Next Harry took the Resurrection Stone and set it into the indentation of the stone archway. Like it belonged there all along, it slid in like a key into a lock. "Grant us save passage!" Harry commanded and a moment later things took on a timeless quality. His words echoed this time, but they didn't fade entirely; instead remaining as a soft undertone. In that moment Harry appeared unassailable, as if he couldn't be attacked or affected by anything at all.
Whispers coming from the rippling artefact grew in intensity and volume, swearing oaths and delivering promises of safe travels. The stunned onlookers saw movement from the corners of their eyes, but this ceased the moment they tried to focus on it. Nothing moved quickly when directly watched. Their movements altogether were slow and dreamlike, and a disturbing calm surrounded everything around the Veil. The floor around the dais where they stood was then covered in tendrils of bruised purple shadow that reached up a few inches and angled toward Harry. The tendrils pulled colour from the stone walls, people and even from the light itself; so that everything but the Veil's shadowy light seemed pale, anaemic, clothed in grey.
The swirling portal of magenta energy pulsed in time to an unfathomable cosmic heartbeat, flashing through hues of pink, red, and purple. Fragments of worlds, dead and alive floated around inside the aperture, trapped by its intractable pull, and a creeping numbness filled everyone's body as the portal took on form. A black void as hollow as Voldemort's soul stared out at them from its centre. The darkness between the stars.
Finally, he put the Elder Wand on top of the Resurrection Stone, turning it like one might a key. "Open!" A second later an unnatural draft blew from the centre of the Veil, as if a door had been opened.
The Master of Death turned back towards the captivated audience. "I hope you're satisfied now." he told them coldly. In that moment Harry appeared impossibly regal and powerful, though not necessarily noble. The feeling was more intimidating than inspiring. Everything he was holding or wearing seemed like a treasure, and anyone of the interlopers who met his gaze felt compelled to look away. People and inanimate objects seemed to defer to him, even shadows stayed below his gaze.
"Let's go!" with that said Harry picked the Resurrection Stone back up and turned to enter the newly opened passage.
Fleur and Hermione with Delphini in her arms went first, immediately followed by Harry. With that they embarked on their journey, unsure of what they might find.
-?-
Outer Dark.
A queer lurch in Harry's gut made his head swim as the world around him spun away into darkness. He felt as though he was falling – endlessly falling – but he saw naught but dim flashes of colour and heard nothing at all, not even his own heart or breath. That was until he stopped in mid-air.
The air – or what he hoped was air – felt still and heavy. Not from any atmospheric pressure, but instead – what? It was as if everything had suddenly clattered to a sudden, irresistible halt. What came next caused his heart to stutter.
"Oh, what do we have here?" a voice practically purred into his ear, making Harry feel as if Fate was personally breathing down his neck. Some ancient and primal part of his brain screamed at him to not look behind him, lest he turn mad. Despite not even able to see his own hand in front of his face, much less move. "You've come to return my Hallows. How thoughtful of you, old friend!"
Sweat beaded and turned to ice on Harry's face. He suddenly felt overtaxed, as if he'd run for days. "Friend? I have never met you." Harry barely croaked out, his throat tight and words falling flat, nearly stifled at conception.
A chuckle assaulted his ears, making them bleed. "You wound me, of course we have met. And will meet again, before the last sun sets and the universe grows dark forever." The presence swirled around him teasingly, caressing and cutting him all at once. He distinctly and weirdly literally felt the Elder Wand, Resurrection Stone and – most painful of all – the Invisibility Cloak leave his being. A connection he only just grew aware of suddenly severed utterly, killing the relationship in its infancy. "I was with you as your parents sacrificed themselves for you. I stood beside you in the Chamber of Secrets as you took your first step on the Golden Road, and in the Forbidden Forest as you truly embraced me. That you couldn't see me is no matter – I was there, and I was with you every step of the way."
Harry felt a torrent of unease flow through him as the presence spoke, his muscles straining against unknown pressures. It was as if he stood at the bottom of a vast ocean, and the weight of a thousand fathoms pressed down on him. The words the thing spoke felt like a knife kissing bone. Somehow mixing pleasure with pain.
"Always close and never far." it whispered teasingly, the words feeling like a flaying caress. "Watching. Waiting."
"What do you want, to kill me?" Harry demanded hoarsely, having a deep suspicion who – or rather what – was beside him and not wanting to confirm it.
The being chuckled. "I have no need for that. Sooner or later all Men must die and meet me, be they accepting or not." it assured him. "But before that they must serve, however. I'm here to complete what was begun by you long ago and grant my favour for services rendered."
Before Harry could utter another word his lips brushed against rows of teeth, as if kissing a skull. What followed were claws of ice digging down his throat and into his chest, where it flowed through his veins. Yet, he did not scream. Not out of refusal, but because there was no pain to be had.
"There, it is done." satisfaction oozed from the voice before a mournful sigh escaped it. "Alas, our time grows short, my Herald." the thing told him, pushing him upwards. "Until we meet again. I'll be waiting!" it told him tenderly. The words promise and threat all at once.
With that he floated once more, still not knowing for how long he did so. Nevertheless, he soon became conscious of an impending end, an impenetrable barrier in the dark like falling upward into a ceiling of sky. He instinctively braced for impact, and that's when he suddenly arrive somewhere else.