A few months back I wrote a Harry/Fleur oneshot for a community event at the Flowerpot discord (discord. gg / 2CnxhHNj2n) and I am back again for another collection.

All of the stories written for this collection have been curated in the FFN Community "Flowerpot Garden" and I highly recommend you check it out if you are a fan of the pairing.

Thank you, as always, to Nauze for the beta. Thankfully Fleur/Harry is one of his favorite pairings so having to suffer through my writing was a tad more palatable this time around.

Harry Potter stood and stretched, doing his best to work out the tension that had built up from sitting at his desk all afternoon. If McGonagall had performed her professional due diligence and informed him of how much paperwork was involved with being an Auror during their fifth-year discussion, he was quite sure he would have chosen a different career path. It had been bad enough during his first few years in the department but now that they'd been foolish enough to assign him a team of his own, the procedural nonsense involved in thwarting evildoers seemed to have expanded exponentially.

Whereas in the past his reports had been limited to documenting his own actions, now he had to provide an overall accounting of the investigation that he had led, assess the actions and performance of everyone on his team, convey his thoughts and opinions to his team, and then report said accounting and assessment to his superior. If he really drew the short straw, the Minister of Magic himself would request a debriefing. And if Harry had been really unlucky and drawn all the short straws in England, he'd have to do the same for the Junior Undersecretary to the Minister.

But thankfully the raid that morning had been thoroughly benign and by the book. There was absolutely no chance he would have to suffer through that particular-

"What is wrong with you?"

"Good afternoon, Hermione," he greeted, making a show of stowing away his paperwork as a signal that his workday was at an end and he was ready to leave. It didn't work.

"Don't you good afternoon, Hermione me. I want answers."

"The operation went off without a hitch; rest assured my report will be submitted by noon tomorrow, per departmental guidelines," he began, doing his best not to make eye contact as he made his way to the door. The key was to keep moving and not engage, and following departmental guidelines always helped to soothe his best friend. If he allowed her to establish a stronghold, he was finished.

His office door magically slammed shut and he cursed his carelessness. He should have seen that coming. Harry wanted to point out how disrespectful it was to magically shut and lock his own office door, but that would require him to engage.

"I'm not here about the raid. Why haven't you contacted Fleur?"

It was even worse than he'd thought. She wanted to help him with his love life. Apparently, his bad luck with straws had expanded to the entirety of the United Kingdom. At least this discussion would be short and sweet. He pulled out his wand and began working on the door. The strategy was simple: keep moving, keep counterpunching, but do not engage.

"When my date has an awful time, I tend to avoid them for a bit. It helps cut down on the awkwardness for both of us," he informed before casting Alohomora. The door remained stubbornly closed and he shuddered at the implications. Hermione only went beyond the standard locking spell when she was at Ron-levels of annoyance.

"What are you talking about? You and Fleur have always gotten on over the years. What did she do to make it so miserable?"

Realizing there was no chance at escape; he turned, braced himself, and engaged.

"I had a fine time," he replied, "but I can't say the same thing for Fleur. She spent the entire night complaining: The wine, the appetizer, the main course, the aperatif, whatever that is, our waiter, the wait staff's uniforms... The only thing that didn't rate a comment was the dessert because she refused to try it. I took her to the best restaurant I could manage, based on your recommendation, and it was a massive flop. Believe me, Hermione, the last thing Fleur wants is a second date with me."

'Oh, Harry," Hermione replied in that voice as she got that look; the one that meant she had fit all the pieces together. This was the point where she'd start explaining how stupid he was being.

"You are so stupid."

"Yes, I'm exceedingly stupid, I'm a lousy date, and I refuse to continue this conversation until you unlock my sodding office door," he replied.

"If I unlock it, you'll run away," Hermione said.

"I'm not twelve and we've been out of Hogwarts for over five years, Hermione. I don't run from conversations about girls anymore," Harry replied, cursing the fact that she had sussed out his strategy. He supposed he'd have to settle for briskly walking away from the conversation about girls.

After giving him a look of consideration, Hermione unfolded her arms and flourished her wand, causing the door lock to give a satisfying click. It was the sound of freedom. He exited the room as quickly as possible and began his brisk walk out of the Ministry. The Junior Undersecretary to the Minister, as expected, briskly followed.

"I opened your door, so now you will open your ears and listen," Hermione commanded. "I know for a fact that Fleur had a wonderful time, and I know for a fact that she's been waiting to hear from you."

Harry stopped walking. "How on earth could you know that?"

They'd reached the eye-rolling phase of the conversation, which was good. It either meant she was about to give up because he was a lost cause, or she was finally going to get to the point.

"I had lunch with Fleur today. She was upset that she hadn't heard from you."

"Impossible," he replied. He tried to continue his trek but was stopped by a forceful tug on his arm.

"Do you enjoy Fleur's company?"

It was now time for him to roll his eyes. "Of course!" he answered.

"Are you attracted to her?"

"I'm not even going to dignify that question with a response."

"Did you have a good time on your date?"

"I- yes. Fleur didn't seem quite herself, but yeah, for the most part, it was great. But that's not the point, is it? She hated it and-"

They'd now reached the part in the conversation when Hermione would hit him with a silencing spell. If anyone else had tried such a thing, he would have been furious, but with Hermione, it meant he'd moved onto the next phase of her lecture…and every milestone reached meant the end was mercifully closer. It was so close he could feel it.

"Fleur enjoys your company, finds you very physically attractive, and had a wonderful time on your date. Those are the actual words I heard come out of her actual mouth a few hours ago. Besides, you know how Fleur enjoys criticizing things," Hermione continued.

Harry nodded and grinned. He'd always enjoyed Fleur's ability to casually dismiss anything she found to be lacking.

Hermione's face softened. "There are very few men who aren't intimidated by Fleur, but when it does happen…and it is someone she is interested in…she becomes nervous and overcompensates by talking too much."

He snorted. Normally he would have happily remained silenced as long as necessary for Hermione to finish her soliloquy, but this was too much. He motioned at his mouth for her to cancel the spell.

"You're saying that Fleur finds me intimidating? That I made her nervous? Pull the other one."

"How is it that you, despite looking in the mirror every day, are the only one among us who forgets you're Harry Potter? You are properly intimidating!"

Harry folded his arms. "You've never seemed to have a problem."

He could tell she was fighting a grin. "I'm the brilliant exception to the rule, obviously, but we are getting off-topic and you are missing the point. There are very few men who rate Fleur's interest, and she has been waiting ages for you to ask her out. Her nerves got the better of her."

Harry moved to speak but stopped as his mind thought back to his fourth year. He'd considered the Beauxbatons Champion to be a bit insufferable the first few months after he had been entered in the tournament and realized her behavior during their date had been similar. She talked a bit more than normal and seemed to be offering unsolicited negative opinions at a rate similar to those first few months they'd known each other. He idly wondered if it was a Veela or Fleur trait to compensate for nervousness by appearing overconfident and superior. He grumbled internally as he realized that, as usual, perhaps Hermione did have a point.

He nodded his understanding to her, who had been patiently waiting for him to realize that she was right. Based on her smug expression, she had decided that he finally understood. Another phase down. Now was the bit where they discussed next steps.

"Based on what I have told you, what are you going to do?"

"Change the locks on my office door?"

Hermione didn't find his joke humorous at all, which increased his enjoyment tenfold.

"I'm going to talk to Fleur and see if she'd like to go out this Friday."

"There's a good lad," Hermione complimented as she patted his cheek.

"May I go now? My epic romance isn't going to bloom on its own, you know."

She nodded her agreement. "Congratulations on this morning's raid, by the way. I look forward to reading your report."

"Yeah, yeah," he said, "I'll see you tomorrow."

He was seconds away from his escape when Hermione, right on schedule, called from behind. It was time for her parting words of advice.

"Let Fleur pick the restaurant this time, and for Merlin's sake kiss the girl."

Harry did his best to ignore the disgusted looks that every goblin in Gringotts seemed to be sending his way. While they'd grudgingly acknowledged that, in the long run, his break-in to acquire Hufflepuff's cup had been integral to restoring the Wizarding World to a sense of normalcy, thereby stabilizing the economy and restoring their profiting off of wizards; the goblins, as a rule, didn't forgive, and they certainly didn't forget.

But as annoying as the glances were, he enjoyed the dynamic. As far as he could tell, he, Hermione, and Ron were the only Magicals that goblins seemed worried could get the best of them at any minute.

"How can I help you, Wizard?"

Apparently this goblin had drawn the short straw and had been forced to deal with The Interloper. It was, by far, his favorite of the titles that had been unwillingly bestowed on him over the years.

"Fleur Delacour, please," he replied, enjoying the brief look of relief that washed over the goblin's face. They always became a bit tetchier when he'd request access to his vault.

"Have a seat," the goblin replied, scurrying away as quickly as possible.

"Harry!" Fleur greeted as she appeared from a side door. After Hermione's instruction, Harry scrutinized Fleur's reaction a bit more closely and realized that she did seem a bit more energetic than normal before she tamped down her enthusiasm.

She greeted him with her normal kiss on the cheek, but it seemed to be a slightly more evolved version. Fleur seemed a bit more relaxed, lingered a bit longer than normal, and Harry realized Hermione most likely had provided Fleur with a bit of advice as well. Fleur had expected most blokes who'd been interested in her to go out of their way to make their feelings known, something he was still inordinately bad at.

"I'm sorry for bothering you at work, but I was wondering if you were free on Friday?" he asked. Based on Hermione's instruction and Fleur's reaction to seeing him, he was fairly certain that the answer would be yes, but there was still a part of him, a rather large part, that found it hard to believe that this goddess was interested in him.

Her otherworldly smile banished all of his worries and he fought the urge to grin.

"I am free on Friday, but why wait?" Fleur asked. "Are you free tonight?"

The slightly predatory look on Fleur's face made Harry think that the girl had taken Hermione's advice a bit too much to heart, and he fought the urge to grin. This was the Fleur he knew, and it blew him away that this unabashed confidence was being directed toward him. It was intoxicating.

His excitement was briefly tamped down as he recalled that he was not free that night. Tuesday nights were spent eating supper with Andromeda and Teddy, and as much as he wanted to say yes, his desire to see his godson pulled at him more. The reaction of Andi at changing plans at the last minute preyed on his mind as well. Her resemblance to Bellatrix Lestrange when she was annoyed was uncanny and slightly disturbing.

"I've got plans tonight," he replied, "but I'm free tomorrow."

"It's a date," Fleur answered immediately.

"Great!" Harry enthused as he remembered Hermione's advice. The crucial bit was to phrase it in a way as to not let on that he was terrified of making the wrong choice again. "Any particular favorite place you'd like to go to in London? I'm always looking for new dining spots," he lied. He was quite content with the one dining spot he'd found within a block of Grimmauld Place. The Whistling Parrot had afforded a wide variety of choices (fish and chips or toasted cheese sandwiches) and he hadn't been fussed to expand his horizons.

He did his best to ignore how much of a ponce he sounded like uttering the words 'dining spots,' but Fleur didn't seem to mind. "I know just the place!" she enthused. "Pick me up at seven?"

Harry nodded and received another lingering kiss on both cheeks for his efforts. As he exited Gringotts, he basked in the relieved expressions of the goblins. He was The Chosen One after all, and amazingly, Fleur apparently had chosen him as well. The fact that it was still a preliminary choice was a minor quibble.

For the umpteenth time since arriving at the restaurant, Harry did his best not to frown. Between the indifferent service and the tiny, numerous, and barely edible servings, Harry had done his best to keep a smile on his face. But despite his best efforts, he seemed to be failing just as miserably as his first date with Fleur. The more he tried to smile through every sneering question from the waiter, every odd and exotic course; Fleur seemed to become increasingly more aggravated. But unlike in the past, when Fleur had openly and freely voiced her displeasure, tonight she'd been disturbingly silent, opting instead to don a forced smile.

Everything felt stilted and off, even more so than their first attempt at a date. According to Hermione both he and Fleur had at the very least enjoyed themselves during their first date, but this time he was fairly certain that Fleur, despite being genuinely annoyed and dispirited, was tamping down on her urge to complain. The fact that she was keeping her annoyed and dispirited thoughts to herself was troubling, and very unlike the girl he'd found himself inordinately drawn to over the last few months.

He did his best to swallow the food that he'd been served, muting the gag reflex that the slimy, salty delicacy had prompted.

"Enjoying the meal, Harry?" Fleur asked.

"It's really good," Harry lied.

It was immediately clear that this was the wrong answer. He knew he was an awful liar but most people did him the courtesy of pretending not to notice. Fleur, like Hermione, had no such compunction. She began muttering in French before she threw her napkin on the table and stood.

"You hate it," she declared.

"What? No," he lied again, for reasons he couldn't quite identify. He couldn't understand where this second date had gone so spectacularly off the rails, because he'd done everything he could do to pretend he'd been enjoying himself, and it hadn't been a total lie. In between the times where he'd forced himself to take a bite, he'd thoroughly enjoyed getting to spend time with Fleur once again. But despite this his lie only served to enrage the girl more.

"Stop saying what you think I want to hear and tell me the truth, Harry," she ordered.

He grinned despite himself, realizing that the reason the date had felt off was that they were both being overly polite. Over the years, whether it was a Weasley get-together or Ministry gathering, they'd never had a problem speaking their mind, but now that the stakes had been raised, they were both being overly cordial and not acting like themselves.

"It's awful," he answered honestly, causing Fleur to finally offer him a grin and retake her seat.

"And the waiter is a dickhead."

Her grin morphed into something entirely new, something more.

"We've had four courses, I've eaten everything offered, and I'm still starving," he continued.

"Go on," she prompted.

"The entire time I've been sat here eating this food, I wished I was back at my local pub, eating some actual food, with you."

Fleur made a face as if she'd smelled something foul. But despite that imaginary foul smell, a grin was poking through.

Yes.

"A pub? Really Harry?"

Harry shrugged, falling back into the easy rhythm they had established years ago. "I can't help that you've had your nose stuck so far up your own arse that you can no longer tell what real food smells like."

She chuckled, and for the first time since they'd made an attempt at dating, he felt like they had found their footing. "On our next date I'll just have to show you what you've been missing."

Fleur did her best to pretend to be offended, but he knew he had the right of it. They'd been nervously tap-dancing around each other for too long. There was undoubtedly something between them, but she'd been too nervous, and he'd been too deprecating to sort it out.

"If I have to be subjected to your British traditions then I expect you to at least attempt to absorb a bit of culture."

He faked a sigh as he spooned up a bit more of his entrée. Despite his words, it wasn't that bad, and he reckoned it was high time he'd expanded his horizons a bit. He'd firmly settled himself into a comfortable rut since his days at Hogwarts had ended, and he couldn't think of a better way to expand his horizons than by spending a bit more time with this amazing girl.

"The waiter really is a dickhead, though," Fleur said, causing him to laugh so loud that nearby patrons looked their way. Getting Fleur to utter crude English words in her French accent never failed to amuse him.

Harry fought the urge to leap out of the bed he'd been confined to in an attempt to regain his blessed freedom. But now that he was an adult, and had been injured while on duty, he felt an annoying obligation to follow the rules that had been established.

He'd barely suffered through his supervisor's dressing down at taking unnecessary risks and endangering his safety before the healer informed him that there was a woman who'd been quite insistent on seeing him.

"It's fine. Send her in," he informed. He'd realized long ago that it was best to get Hermione's lectures over with as soon as possible.

But it wasn't Hermione who entered the room a few moments later, it was another woman, looking slightly less furious and slightly more worried than his best friend normally managed in these situations, carrying a grease-soaked bag. Fleur quickly rid herself of the bag she was carrying in a nearby chair and moved to embrace him, stopping inches from her target.

"Is it all right if I hug you?" she asked hesitantly. It struck him how worried she really was. Fleur was never hesitant.

"It's fine," he reassured, pulling her closer, "just mind the legs."

She settled into him immediately, burying herself into his shoulder. "You stupid man, you foolish, reckless man," she blurted, on the verge of tears.

"Hey," he attempted to reassure, "it's fine. I'm fine. No permanent damage done."

"It is not fine. You approached the suspect before your backup was in position, you could have been further injured in the rubble caused by the spell you cast to block the-"

"It's not that simple," he interrupted, "if I had waited for backup she would have escaped and she was too far away to-"

Harry caught himself, realizing that Fleur was parroting back the dressing down he had just received. "Were you listening in?"

Fleur stood back up and reached into her pocket before holding up an extendable ear.

"Technically, you just violated the law, you know. Accessing confidential information related to an ongoing Ministry investigation could lead to up to five years-"

"We are in a public space. As professionals you should perform your due diligence to prevent concerned citizens from listening in. A simple Imperturbable Charm would have stopped me."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Are you the concerned citizen in this scenario?"

"We are officially dating, yes?"

Harry hadn't really thought about it. He was still getting used to the fact that this amazing woman was even interested in him. Assigning a name to what they were to each other at this point had been the last thing on his mind. Beyond the word 'fun' he hadn't allowed himself to think further on it.

"I usually wait until the third date to make those types of decisions," he answered with a grin.

"Your shoulder is uninjured?" she asked.

Harry nodded. "Everything above the waist is fine," he answered before immediately being assaulted on said shoulder. "Hey!" he protested with a chuckle.

"We would be on our third date right now if you hadn't taken unnecessary risks and skirted along the edge of departmental protocols."

"Please stop saying things my boss would say, Fleur. If you want us to become a couple you should be whispering sweet nothings in my ear, not sounding like that middle-aged curmudgeon."

Fleur looked confused. "What is a sweet nothing?"

"You know," he began, "things a concerned girlfriend would be saying right now. Proper fawning."

Fleur crossed her arms, looking very skeptical. "Proper fawning?"

Harry grinned, doing his best to think of the least likely things that would ever come out the force of nature's mouth standing in front of him. "Are you all right, Harry Poo? Does it hurt, Harrykins? I wish I could kiss it and make it all better you brave, handsome man, whom I adore and worship."

"I'm not saying that," Fleur immediately declared.

"Of course you wouldn't say that exactly, you would need to put your own unique spin on telling me how brave and handsome I am."

Her face softened as she pulled a chair closer to his bedside and took a seat, grabbing his hand. "Well, you are very brave, and somewhat handsome, but that is irrelevant if you are going to disregard procedural guidelines and put yourself at risk."

Harry let out a groan, doing his best not to grin. "You were so close to a proper sweet nothing there. But at the end I could practically smell Larkin's bad breath."

"If you want me to compliment you, then stop behaving like an imbecile. My sweet nothings are reserved for non-imbeciles, and only for non-imbeciles I'm dating."

"Speaking of which," she continued as she grabbed the greasy bag from a nearby chair, "I was promised a date, and I do not like when people break their promises to me."

She made a face as she began levitating various items out of the bag. Harry grinned in recognition.

"Is that-"

"Fish and chips from The Cackling Pigeon." Every word of the sentence sounded very odd and unnatural coming from Fleur.

"The Whistling Parrot."

Whether it was purposeful or she was too distracted by the food she was about to consume, Fleur ignored his correction. "You say this is fish, but all I am seeing is something orange, greasy, and disgusting."

"That's the batter," he clarified before taking a bite and showing her the inside of the piece remaining in his hand. "That's the part that makes it tastes good and, this is very important, sucks all the healthy bits of the fish out as well."

Fleur squinted as she examined the delicacy. "That white part does slightly resemble fish."

Harry leaned forward and offered her a bite. After several seconds of consideration, Fleur delicately bit into the food, taking the smallest amount possible to qualify as a bite. What started out as hesitant acceptance slowly morphed into something…intoxicating. She leaned forward and took a much larger bite, her eyes rolling into the back of her head in enjoyment. It was the sexiest thing Harry had ever seen.

Fleur grabbed a chip and took a bite, frowning slightly. "The chips are bland but the fish is edible, I suppose."

Harry grinned. His 50% success rate had exceeded his wildest hopes by 50%. "They've got a salad on the menu as well. Next time you can get that along with your fish."

Fleur smiled and grabbed a napkin, doing her best to remove any remnants of the chip from her fingers. She leaned forward once again and opened her mouth, anxiously awaiting more.

He fed her the remaining piece of fish in his hand, enjoying the feeling of her lips as they grazed his fingers and lingered slightly longer than necessary.

"I would love it if you would be my girlfriend," he blurted, instantly feeling fifteen again.

She took her time…savoring the bite of food that Harry had fed her. As she swallowed and licked her lips in satisfaction, the bits below his waist that had, thankfully, remained uninjured made their presence known…and it was clear that they wished for Fleur to be his girlfriend as well.

Fleur leaned forward, lingering mere inches away from his face. "I only date non-imbeciles, Harry. Are you a non-imbecile?"

Harry nodded, the expression on his face making him look very much like an imbecile.

Fleur crept ever so slightly forward…she was so close now. "It is very important to me that all parts of your body remain uninjured and functioning, especially below the waist. Do you promise to be a non-imbecile at work?"

"Oui," he replied, leaning forward and bridging the remaining gap. It had been a while since he'd had a proper girlfriend, but as he tasted the salty goodness lingering on Fleur's lips, and felt her sinking into him, doing her best to avoid his injured legs, he idly wondered how long he could keep up the charade of resembling a non-imbecile.

Harry reviewed the report outlining the disastrous operation that had taken place that morning and bit back a sigh. As much as he'd hated having to write out his team's failures in explicit detail, having to read the reports written by his subordinates was even more disheartening. Four of his Aurors in hospital with seven more resting at home, recovering from injuries. Despite being the youngest department head at the Ministry, he felt inordinately old.

Kingsley had stopped by and counseled him that such a setback was inevitable from time to time and that everyone had performed admirably under duress. But as much as he wanted to believe the words of his mentor, the guilt and weariness remained.

He heard the door to his office creak open and cringed. He'd been dreading the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister's inevitable arrival.

"I don't want to talk right now, Hermione. Give me a night to wrap my head around it and we can debrief in the morning, yeah?"

"It's me," Fleur informed, and he instantly calmed. "You owe me a date."

"I stayed at St. Mungo's a bit longer than planned and wanted to review everything while it was still fresh in my mind."

He heard a chair being dragged around his desk and smelled the greasy bag of food before he saw it. Fleur placed his fish and chips in front of him and began eating her salad.

"How long have you been sitting here?"

Harry glanced at the clock. "Four hours?" Fleur nodded.

They sat in silence and ate, the routine they'd established years ago playing out once again. Fleur would eat her salad and occasionally lean over, indicating that it was time for Harry to share his fish with her. Sometimes he would only have to share a few bites, other times it would be a bit more, but the routine was always the same. Their routine.

"It was so much easier when I was the one who ended up in hospital," he mumbled.

"Not for all of us, Harry," Fleur replied leaning over for another bite before laying her head on his shoulders.

"Any imbeciles at fault?" she asked.

He shook his head. "From what I can tell, no. It was a trap, but everyone was smart, kept their head, and relied on their training." He shuddered as he spoke his next words. "It could have ended up much, much worse."

"They've been trained by the best," Fleur observed.

"You left out the part where their fearless leader led them into a trap based on bad intelligence."

"You'll do better next time. You always do better."

They lapsed back into silence as Harry kept eating, occasionally feeding a bite to Fleur.

"There was a break-in attempt at the bank today," Fleur finally spoke. "Another imbecile tried your tactic and used polyjuice. It's been over fifteen years since you three pulled off that ridiculous stunt and people still haven't realized that safeguards have been put into place to prevent it."

Fleur continued talking, expounding on the mundanities of her day, pausing occasionally when Harry offered her a bite. As the minutes passed and his spirits continued to be lifted ever so slightly, he considered for the umpteenth time how he'd somehow fooled this woman to marry him.

"More please," she requested.

"It's all gone," he informed. "We should really start ordering two portions. Chip?"

Fleur made a sound that was a cross between offense and disgust. She made the best sounds.

"You are not funny. You think you are funny but you are not funny, and since we are done with the only edible portion of your meal, I would like to get Ted and Chloe and go home with my husband."

Harry nodded and gathered up his things. "Your office visits are so much more enjoyable than Hermione's," he mumbled as he grabbed Fleur's hand and led her toward the door.

Fleur chuckled. "She is just doing her job, and she worries about you. We all do."

Harry nodded in agreement as he closed his office door and made his way down the hall.

"I'll have to come into the office tomorrow morning."

"That is tomorrow, let's go home."