Oh My Gods, I can't believe I'm actually doing this. Okay, here we go.

Welcome, everybody, to my plot bunny farm. Now, normally I would never do something like this. I hate plot bunnies with a passion, and generally have to allow them to grow into full stories. The problem, with that, however, is that I have recently noticed I do not have the time or effort to do so, and am already overloaded on stories. Every stray thought that enters my head becomes a distraction, and as those of you familiar with me will have noticed, that causes my normal dedicated writing to suffer. As such, I have decided to create this; a place where all the plot bunnies infesting my brain can go to die peacefully, and leave me the hell alone.

No, a basic explanation for this story idea. I know this first part is light on details, but I will try to explain. Basically, Lilly and James Potter were both secretly half-fae. James was the son of Maeve, the winter queen, and Lily the daughter of Oberon, the summer king. When Voldemort attacks and kills them, the two monarchs come to take Harry away. He is then raised in the realm of the fairies as both a summer and winter prince, switching between them on the solstice at the same time as they trade thrones. There is a lot more detail I could include, but that would take far too much time, and would neccessitate creating more chapters.

SO, before I let you go, a few basic ground rules for this story. One, I will be including the first chapters of all my deleted stories over time. THis is so that I personally don't forget they exist. I will eventually be revisiting and completing each, hopefully, but for now they will reside here. Two, everything else is technically up for grabs. If you are interested and want to adopt an idea, PM me with a fully written first chapter and an outline of the full plot, and I will consider agreeing.(If I sound kinda like a hardass, know that these are still my ideas, and I would at least like to make sure they go to a good home. Three, while I do not inted to use these ideas, I still retain the right to do so, and If I do, they will naturally not be up for adoption. Four, while most of these will likely be harry Potter stories, as I have noticed a trend in my writing towards such, there will be crossovers, as well as stories that have absolutely nothing to do with HP.

Well, there you have it. DO enjoy, and I will be seeing you all later.

XXX

It was cold that night. As the dead autumn leaves rustled where they still clung desperately to their branches as the shadows flickered and stirred, a chill breeze swept through the darkness to descend upon the shattered home. With it came a form cloaked in shimmering silk, the barest vestiges of light glimmering darkly within its depths. They stepped carefully through the wreckage with a deathly silence, up to the crumbling nursery. WIth only a slight glance to the still shape on the ground, the form closed on the crib, where a small child slept.

With a gentle whisper of cloth, the hood lowered to reveal a woman. She was beautiful, that could not be denied, but it was a sharp, harsh beauty. Every feature spoke of winter's cold grasp, from her high, arched cheekbones, to the pointed cut of her chin. Long black hair, glossy with living shadows that danced about its length cascaded down her back, and her eyes were pale chips of ice, unyielding in their scrutiny. Pale pink lips curved into a sharp frown as the woman stared down at the babe, a silent fury radiating off her.

"Someone has crossed a line." Her voice was quiet and cold, like the harsh winds of a winter storm, and as one pale finger reached out to trace the stark lightning-bolt mark on the child's forehead, he seemed almost to shiver in his sleep. "Who would dare harm one of my line?" For a bare second, her only answer was silence, even the quietest creature quiet in the wake of the night's events. Eventually, however, the peace was shattered by the sound of falling boots, and the room was suddenly thrown into sharp relief.

"He is mine as well. Do not forget that." The woman's eyes narrowed as she turned to face the owner of the deep voice that rolled with thunder and the crackle of fire. He was her polar opposite, rough where she was refined, solid where sharp, broad where slim and shapely. A thick mane of blazing red hair gave him a vaguely leonine appearance, and the sharp green eyes that shone with the color of summer leaves and burned like wildfire seemed almost to glow in the night, as did the rest of him. There was a warmth about him, just as the woman was cold, but it was one which snapped and crackled with power, a barely restrained firestorm to match her vicious blizzard. The woman's frown deepend.

"You did not answer my question. You still hold reign tonight." The deference she gave bit at her, but it was necessary. The man had eyes where she could not, as the seasons were against her. The rational thought did little to leash her anger, however.

"Voldemort." Was the man's answer, and in an instant what little heat he had brought into the room vanished as her rage flared.

"That monster came into the home of my children. He murdered one, and marked another?" The man did not answer, knowing her questions were not for him. Still, she whirled to face him wholly, ice meeting fire. "Where is he? I shall destroy the beast here and now."

"Gone." Again, the man answered simply, crossing his arms in contempt. "HIs body was destroyed, and only a wraith remains, which retreated at your approach. Even I cannot hunt a being halfway to Death's grasp." For a long moment, the man wondered if she would attack him in her rage. Neither would come out the victor, he knew, but still he tensed. In the many years he had known this woman, her temper had only been matched by his own. A battle here, while not only pointless, would risk the safety of the one thing they both would rather die than harm.

Slowly, the woman calmed down, closing her eyes and drawing a deep breath before turning back to the crib. "He shall need a home. She stated, and the man nodded.

"The Headmaster will want to take him to my daughter's sister. That would be… unacceptable." A small spark of amusement appeared on the woman's face, smile dancing about her lips.

"What, then? I will not relinquish him wholly to your custody. He would wither and die come the next few months."

"And I would not release him to yours. There is but one option." The smile died, and her face once again turned frozen.

"Shared, then. Passed with the throne." There was no emotion in her voice, but the man could see the pain in her eyes. Both of them held blood above all else. Neither would be happy giving the child up, even for a short time. He pushed his own anger and disappointment aside, however, nodding.

"It is the only way." The woman inclined her head, before turning back to the boy. Once again, she traced her hand over his mark, the tenderness in her touch at odds with everything else about her. Once done, she pulled away, giving the man a meaningful glance. Then, with all the grace befitting her station, she left, pulling her cloak tight about her, and leaving him utterly alone with the child.