The Most Expensive Night Of Her Life

A Harry Potter fanfiction.

Summary: Non-magic AU. Harry James Potter, once a proudly serving soldier of her Majesty's Royal Armed Force after a catastrophic injury and the death of his best mate while on patrol leave the military and works for his friend Neville Longbottom's building/construction/renovation company. Fleur Delacour is a world famous French supermodel who is at the top of her game and is a snooty heinous prima donna with a control freak attitude to match. Can these two get along?

…

"Harry!" Harry James Potter stiffened up with irritation at the sound of that posh lightly accented voice that others said sounded melodious but to him it was a near constant annoyance, like a mosquito that buzzed near your ear. Harry was standing at the kitchen isle countertop bench that he had built and sanded to a shiny velvet lacquered finish with his own two hands when his latest client called out to him.

'Last day, man. Keep it together. You only have to put up with this another couple of hours,' Harry silently told himself in his head as he schooled his features into a calm mask of professionalism before turning around to regard his client.

His latest client was Fleur Isabelle Delacour, a world famous French supermodel named one of the most beautiful women of the decade and called the Next Big Thing in the fashion industry. The French blonde was dressed in an itty bitty blue bikini that certainly showed off her million dollar figure and her face was set into an annoyed scowl as those deep cerulean blue eyes bore into Harry's own emerald green.

To say that Fleur was a difficult customer was like asking why the wind blew. From day one, Harry had had to put with Fleur's frankly bitchy attitude since he took the job to renovate her Hampstead home. The house was an old Victorian era style mansion, complete with old iron wrought balconies and stone walls. It was the biggest job Harry had done since he joined Neville's construction company and the money that was being offered for the job was astronomical. Harry had put up with the French blonde's attitude, being nothing if not polite and courteous to her with her enquiries and demands.

But honestly, there were times Harry would've liked to tell the blonde to jam it where the sun don't shine.

"Yes, Miss Delacour, what can I do for you?" Harry asked the blonde calmly.

"Your salivating apprentice is drooling," Fleur grated out as she jerked a thumb towards outside and Harry looked to see one of the company's apprentices who was meant to be installing strip lighting indeed salivating over a few bikini clad women. No doubt these women were Fleur's colleagues. "My friends came here to get away from objectification and your apprentice is drooling over them!" Fleur's eyes flashed dangerously.

"Colin," Harry said.

"Pardon?" came Fleur's response.

"His name is Colin," Harry replied.

"Well, perhaps you should this Colin that if he wants to keep his job, he should act less like a horny teenager!" Fleur said.

"He just got out of school, he is a horny teenager," Harry said dryly as he looked at Colin; this had to be every apprentice's wet dream to behold supermodels clad in itty bitty swimwear.

"Well, he can be that in his own time! On my time, he should have his head down and on the job!"

Harry refrained from rudely telling Fleur to mind her own business and let him worry about his employees. But military discipline had Harry refraining from voicing those words. Instead he opted to say, "I'll sort it out, Miss Delacour. Don't worry." Before turning back around to go over the plans. Colin was a good kid, he had a little hero worship for Harry but he was a keen hard worker so Harry was able to forgive him for that.

Fleur huffed before sauntering off like an angry cat, her hair floating about her like a silvery halo. Harry took in a breath, going to the happy place his shrink told him to go to since he was discharged from the army.

He was in a good place in life right now. He was fit and healthy after a long period of being neither. He had a good steady job that he loved doing and soon after this job was over, he'd been on a much needed and well deserved holiday.

Looking over the plans again, Harry revised it. Much of the interior was done in glass and stainless steel. Fleur had left the planning to a designer but she had shown her own hedonistic side with chunky art pieces, mohair throw rubs and comfortable sofas.

The kitchen on the other hand was a far different matter. Instead of steel and stone, much of it was sanded and lacquered wood with a large walk-in pantry and a top of the line electric oven and gas stovetop. It was clear from the look and feel of the kitchen that Fleur loved to cook which Harry really hadn't pegged her for.

Much of the woodwork in the kitchen was done by Harry himself. He loved the feel and smell of freshly cut timber. The earthy scent of the wood reminded Harry of his childhood, growing up in the countryside where his grandfather owned a lumbermill. How he learned to plane and shave wood and worked weekends after school and after he got out of school before joining the army.

The kitchen isle countertop bench was made of strong sturdy pine and the bench it self was sanded and lacquered oak. Harry had spent hours sanding back the oak before lacquering it then sanding it again, over and over until it shone with a brilliant diamond sheen. The feel of it was a smooth and silky finish under Harry's hands.

Harry went over the plans and tried not to think about his client's attitude. Or her teeny tiny blue bikini.

In any other world where Fleur wasn't some glamorous supermodel and he wasn't a glorified builder, he might've gone there but Harry had learned to stay away from things that could blow up in his face. He'd had enough drama in his life and he was not looking to invite more.

And if he really wanted to get laid, he could dial one of the many numbers on his cellphone for that sort of thing.

More than anything, he wanted to get away from Fleur Isabelle Delacour as far as possible and not have to endure the gaggle of paparazzi every morning on his way here.

…

It was almost mid-afternoon when Harry's phone buzzed repeatedly. Taking out his phone, he saw it was Neville calling him. Probably wanted to talk about the job.

"Neville, what's up?" Harry asked as he hit the green button.

"We've got a problem, Harry. A big one!" Neville's voice said grimly.

"What kind of problem?" Harry asked in worry.

"It's Hermione," Neville said. "She called me a few minutes ago. One the charity's biggest sponsors is pulling out due to financial issues," he explained.

Harry's heart sunk at that. After the accident and death of his best mate and Hermione's husband, Ron Weasley, Hermione along with a few other war widows had set up a charity that helped servicemen and their families. It had been a few years of hard work and getting sponsorship was difficult, but Hermione was notoriously bull-headed and worked hard to keep the charity running. It meant everything to Hermione and to Harry as well.

"Harry!" Harry suppressed a sigh as he Fleur Delacour came up to him to either talk or make some complaint.

"I suppose we're in a position to become sponsors ourselves," Harry said to Neville just as Fleur prepared to speak to him.

"We can't afford the one million quid that's been yanked out of their coffers!"

Harry was so stunned that he held up a finger to forestall Fleur. Fleur looked so surprised and miffed at this, that she stayed silent and folded her arms under her chest and tapped her foot impatiently.

"Hermione needs a million pounds?" Harry asked. 'A million pounds? Holy cow!'

Having gotten impatient enough, Fleur spoke in a terse voice. "I need you to remove your car. I'm expecting a photographer and your piece of junk car spoils the ambience."

Harry shot the French blonde an annoyed look before he spoke to Neville. "We'll sort something out. I need to move my piece of junk car," he said before hanging up.

"Who's Hermione?" Fleur then asked.

Harry stopped himself from saying "None of your business," and he replied, "My best friend's wife."

"Is she okay?" the note of concern in Fleur's voice sounded genuine but Harry wasn't ready nor willing to believe that sentence coming from her mouth.

"She's fine. The Charity she runs has hit a bit of a snag. She'll bounce back, she always does," he said before he grabbed his carkeys and prepared to brave the gaggle of vultures armed with cameras sitting outside Fleur's house. Harry made a mental note to tell Neville no more supermodels. The business was going gangbusters, they could afford to be choosy.

…

It was nearing six o'clock and Harry's bad leg ached after a long day and he was keen to get home and get off his leg for a few hours of rest before going on his holiday. All the other workers had gone home and the paps had packed up and left too. It was just him Fleur right now, in her kitchen. The job was fully done and all that was left was the paperwork to fill out and sign. Fleur had covered herself up a little with a white hoodie and frayed denim cutoff shorts. The hoodie was unzipped showing off acres of perfectly tanned skin and flat abs. A pot was on the stove simmering away with pasta and the smell of garlic and herbs reminded Harry of his nearly empty fridge save for a sixpack of beer.

Fleur had offered to feed him, but Harry had refused. She even offered him a cold beer but that was declined too. Harry wanted nothing more than for Fleur to sign the forms and he would be free from her for good.

"So, are you satisfied with the result, Miss Delacour?" Harry asked her half expecting some scathing complaint. But the response Fleur gave him was unexpected.

"It is absolutely manifique!" she declared using her native French as she signed her elaborate elegant signature on the paperwork. "I shall tell all my friends to use you guys!" she said with a smile.

Harry blinked. He had not been expecting such praise from such a difficult client with the promise of more clients from no doubt an extensive list, but he wasn't letting his guard down. Not for one minute!

"A pleasure, Miss Delacour. Neville will send you the invoice in a couple of days," he said tersely.

"Oh? Going somewhere?" Fleur asked.

"Holiday," Harry replied. "If you need anything, Neville can sort it out," he said as he put away the paperwork into his satchel.

…

Fleur looked at the mystery that was Harry James Potter before her. She was at the top of her game in the fashion industry, named one of the most beautiful women of the decade and had admirers by the thousands.

But for some reason, the man before her did not even pay her so much as a second glance. It rankled Fleur a little that someone could pay her no heed, as if she were unimportant to regard or even consider.

Such as the time where Harry had been making the kitchen isle bench for her kitchen. The way she watched Harry sand the oaken timber before lacquering it then sanding it again and repeating the process many times over. Fleur wagered that she could strip naked and Harry wouldn't pay her an iota of attention.

But she could see that behind the swirling emerald green eyes of Harry, he had a temper. She had seen the brief flashes of it whenever she had been bitchy and she'd been more than a little bitchy, just to see if he would react. But the flash would be doused, and Harry was nothing but courteous to her. Something told Fleur that Harry would be magnificent riled up.

Neville had briefly told Fleur that Harry was ex-military so maybe he was used to people getting in his face and just sucking it up and getting on with the job. In a way, Fleur admired Harry for that.

There had been times when she was in some state of undress such as wearing itty bitty bikinis by her pool or in lingerie where she could feel Harry briefly glance at her but then steadily ignore her. Fleur knew she was attractive and attracted the attention of men everywhere, but Harry wouldn't pay her a second glance. If it hadn't been so annoying, she would've admired him for that as well.

There had been little moments where Fleur felt something between her and Harry but Harry had never acted on it and neither had she. And here they were on the last day of renovations, standing before each other with Harry nearly being out of her life for quite possibly good this time.

She looked at Harry for a moment before speaking. "I'm sorry for being so… difficult in the time you've worked here, Monsieur Potter," she said as she took a sip of wine. Harry looked at her guardedly; he wasn't turning away or leaving so Fleur pressed on.

"The business I'm in is as cutthroat as can be. And people say I can be a bitch and I'm okay with that," she said softly. "I learned very early in my life to not trust anyone. People demanded perfection from me, so I demanded it back," she added as she looked at Harry.

Harry looked at her for a long moment; Fleur could feel the tension growing between them. She could see something akin to sympathy in Harry's eyes. But then it was gone as Harry replied, "Of course. That's what you pay us for."

Fleur nodded; whatever was between was going to go undiscovered. "Merci beaucoup, Monsieur Potter. I hope you enjoy your holiday," she said sincerely.

…

Harry nodded silently before preparing to leave. He hadn't expected to hear such an admission from Fleur but it wasn't his concern. If she wanted to play poor hard done by, then fine, he just won't drink it.

Then all of sudden, loud rapid rattating explosions broke the silence of the quiet Hampstead village. Glass exploded as something broke them. The wine glass in Fleur's hand smashed and she gave a short scream of panic.

Harry dove for her, tackling her to the floor, yelling over the sound of the explosions. "Keep your head down! Keep your head down!" he screamed as the familiar sound of something Harry had hoped he would never hear again filled the night.

Then the gunfire stopped and there was the sound of rubber squealing against the road and the roar of an engine sounded out before slowly fading away.

Harry's first thought as the silence returned was 'Who the hell had Fleur pissed off now?''

…

TO BE CONTINUED…

A/N: There, first chapter of this done and dusted. This story is based on a prompt I put out on a Harry/Fleur Discord page and some people on there asked if I would be willing to do it, so I thought I'd give it a try.

Now, as you can guess, this is a Non-Magic AU where Harry Potter is a humble carpenter and Fleur Delacour is a world-famous supermodel. So, both are from different worlds and have vastly different viewpoints of life and neither of them seem to like each other very much, although there is the fizz of attraction there and in this story we'll build on that nicely.

Anyways, not much more to say, so I hope you all enjoy this ^_^ Let me know what you think of it and if you all like it, I'll try and keep this going :-D.

Be kind to one another,

Angry lil' elf.