Author's Note: Hello, thank you for reading my story. Please be aware that this story is purposefully ridiculous and intended only as a funny writing challenge that I partook in with my fellows in the Harry/Fleur discord server. It has no connection to my other works; however, I do hope you enjoy it regardless!

Special thanks to all my friends who decided to write their own version of this silly Stork prompt alongside me and to DavidTheAthenai for drawing the Storkollection cover image.

I own none of the rights, nor make money, nor gain fame, or anything else from Harry Potter.

Cheers.

A Different Kind of Bird

Harry Potter was quietly rocking in the chair he had conjured outside, enjoying the autumn leaves swirling about his property. His wife and Veela bondmate was busying herself by furtively sneaking glances at him when she thought he wasn't looking and chewing on the inside of her cheek in distress. He remembered with some embarrassment about a long-ago autumn conversation with Fleur when he had first learned some of the peculiar aspects of the Veela. He was glad to find that she neither went south when the weather changed nor hibernated as some fae descendants did.

He played with his wedding ring as he waited for her to speak, the ring was but metal yet the significance of it was soothing to him. They had promised to be eternally bound to one another and he was beyond pleased to have a new life with his wife now that the war was behind them. They had decided to leave England behind, settling on a beautiful part of France and making their home by the sea. He loved to sit out and watch the waves crash down below, allowing the salty brine to wash away the difficulties of a bygone life.

Not for the first time he contemplated what it would be like to truly start a family, to have a little boy or girl traipse around the expansive property of the Potter family. As if aware of his thoughts Fleur spoke up, "My love, I have something to tell you."

He looked at her askance, "I've haven't seen you this nervous for a while, not since you read that scary story about ghosts in the night."

She scoffed, "I was not scared. Not truly."

"Not until you thought you heard a noise and shrieked; you mean."

Harry received a rather potent glare for his cheeky remark.

His wife's face softened considerably as she looked around the place they had made theirs. "You've made such a wonderful home for us here," she whispered, "I was so surprised when you showed it to me the first time after spending so long secretly trying to find the perfect place for us both. You couldn't have picked a better nesting spot."

"Those are quite the exaggerations, love, home is where the heart is after all. I'm sure we would have been happy as long as we had one another."

Fleur looked nervously at him again. "I think it is time I tell you about how Veela are born."

Feeling slightly off-kilter at the unexpected change in conversation, Harry looked over at his companion before responding with some trepidation, "alright, perhaps you should."

She gave him an apologetic look before beginning, "as you know, we aren't human and as such don't have all the same… biological functions you do." Seeing his nod of understanding she continued, "well, we don't conceive the same way either."

He cocked his head to the side, "is this why you looked so confused when we had that conversation about you going off the potion a few weeks ago?"

She nodded demurely, "I had no idea what you mean at first, and then I was so flustered that I didn't want to say anything."

Shaking his head, he looked at her squarely. "You don't need to hide who you are, I want to know all about you and your race's customs."

"Well funny you should mention that," she tittered anxiously, "I agree that it is time we start a family but first I should really tell you about how that comes about."

Harry settled in his chair and motioned for her to begin.

Taking a deep breath, she started, "the Veela have always been a group of beings who were at great risk from both humans and wizards alike, those that envied us or desired to possess us. Long ago, the first of the Veela used ancient magic to empower familiars to guard us. Such magic is now lost to time but the bloodline of our protectors still runs on. Although, their role has changed somewhat. They have taken it upon themselves to determine who is worthy of raising a chick by… testing, I suppose, those mated to a Veela."

He scratched his head as he considered his next words carefully. "So, you aren't going to get pregnant? Instead I have to pass this test and then what? Does a baby drop out of the sky?"

She shook her head in the negative, "no, as soon as a Veela mates herself an egg appears in the Great Veela Forest of Azerbaijan. It is made of the love we share and a combination of our magic. The great protector's watch over the eggs and, after we petition them, will bring ours to us. But we can only bring her home with us if the father passes the test."

"This is a lot to take in…" Harry trailed off, not wanting to be offensive by making a careless statement born from the tempest of confusion whirling about inside him.

His wife nodded sagely at him, "I know, but I've already petitioned the Veela elders. So, you must prepare for your crucible."

He looked at her agog, "I'm sorry, what? When did you do this?"

A look of contrite embarrassment flushed across Fleur's pretty cheeks, "the day after you mentioned going off the potion. I've been trying to figure out how to tell you since."

"So, when should we expect this great Veela protector? Should I put the kettle on?"

"I don't think they like tea."

"It was a joke."

"Well, I do think he is arriving today, so if you want to make biscuits, I'm sure he'd appreciate those."

"I'm not making pastries for -" Harry blinked, "wait, today?" A note of panic leaking into his voice.

"Today," she confirmed.

"You really procrastinated telling me this, didn't you?" It was no secret that Fleur was a woman particularly fond of delaying things. She was a writer who could go nearly half-a-year without typing out a single chapter. It drove her publicist and readers crazy. At least she had the decency to blush at his words.

A great bell-like noise rang across the property signaling the wards had been triggered. Looking up at the sky, Harry could see a huge dark blot moving from the South towards their humble abode. He got to his feet and put his hand to his eyes to better make out their incoming guest.

"Well, should we go meet our visitor," he questioned with a fond grin at his ladylove.

Taking his hand, she mumbled her agreement. They set off to the courtyard situated within their home that was the likely intended landing spot of the Veela familiar, judging by the circling it was doing up above.

"The magical guardian comes from the great line of protectors to the Veela race. They are said to be gallant, gorgeous creatures," Fleur whispered hurriedly to him as they made their way through the house.

He made a noncommittal grunt of acknowledgement before asking the question that most concerned him, "so, what exactly is this test?" Suddenly she went rather silent on the matter. "Fleur," he asked, drawing out her name into a question.

"You, uh, have to beat it. In-in combat," she finally blurted out.

"Oh. Huh?"

She looked at him with huge eyes, "you have to defeat it with your fists, no magic can be involved. You have to prove your ability to protect the Veela chick."

"That is… look, not to be rude, but that's pretty ridiculous, you've gotta know that right?"

"Just be ready. I believe in you so please try and stay focused."

Suddenly feeling a surge of apprehension, Harry opened the door for his wife to go through before him. Stepping back outside, they waited patiently as the beast lowered it's altitude.

With a mighty blast of air, the beast settled on the lawn of the Potter home, flattening the court of flowers that resided in the middle of the mansion's property. A surge of anger raced through his veins, he had spent many months in his garden to get those flowers to be in bloom at this time of year. He had even planned to gift a rare flower to his teacher, Professor McGonagall, for her upcoming birthday. His dismay deepened as the edelweiss flower, so carefully and tenderly cultivated with the help of magic, was crushed under the taloned heel of the intruder.

Harry stared in shocked incredulity. "It… it's a stork," he muttered in disbelief, "I think." The stork, if you could call it such a mundane thing, was a massive monster of mountainous muscles. Harry had the sudden realization that he would need an awful lot of hope and healing potions for this fight. He briefly considered making a not so great escape but quashed the cowardly thought.

Remembering his wife's earlier words, he tried very hard to see the beauty beneath the intimidating bulk of the creature but quickly gave up on the notion altogether. Perhaps, Fleur had meant a beautiful personality because, damn, the thing was ugly. It was a comically huge bird with a wicked beak and mean eyes. It's white plumage glistened with a sickeningly oiled-like sheen in the sunlight.

But perhaps the more alarming aspect of the creature before him was… "Are birds supposed to have abs?"

"Oh, don't be such a baby, you can take him on."

He gave his wife an unimpressed look. "Fleur, the bird has a biker tattoo. Are you sure this isn't an elaborate prank by-" The wind rushed out of him as a feathered fist flew into his face. His glasses went spinning just as his world did. He landed hard against the damp ground, the wind rushing out of his chest in a great huff. Wheezing, he lay there for a minute before shakily propping himself up.

"Harry," his wife called, "are you alright?" Her voice sounded worried even over the dull thumping going on between his ears. Were you supposed to be able to feel your own brain? What about tasting a concussion? He shook his head and immediately regretted it, sliding down back to the dirt underneath him.

Finally, he regathered himself enough to speak, "I'm fine, darling-dearest. I almost caught a train is all." Quietly to himself he added, "sure felt like I got hit by one."

Standing up slowly he faced his avian adversity. The grotesquely large bird had the audacity to smirk at him. The stupid gull had gall, he'd give it that. Bending his knees slightly, Harry took a ready stance, just as he had been trained to do in the Auror academy.

"Sucker punches are for suckers," he said mightily. His words slightly undercut by the bloody tooth he spit out immediately afterwards.

With a great squawking war cry, his feathered foe flung itself at him. Harry gave a shout in reply as he met his enemy halfway. Fists were flung, kicks were given, and pecks and bites were exchanged in equal measure.

A huge blow knocked Harry backwards into the shrubbery. His eyes beheld the ruined garden and crushed flowers he had so tenderly cared for, his rage redoubled. "I'm gonna kick you in the cloaca, you ruddy bird."

The tussle began again, it soon became apparent that the stork was far stronger than harry was and a better brawler. But Harry had a cunningness to him and speed, he used both to great effect, getting behind the bird and twisting its wing behind its back. With a great wrench he brought the beast to its knees. Something's got to give, Harry thought brutally as he kept the wing in an approximation of an armbar.

Finally, with a great shout of anger and pain, the creature tapped out. With a great whoosh of breath, Harry slumped to the ground, his fingers loosening their hold around the winged arm. He lay there, broken and bruised. His ribs felt like splinters and he could feel the cooling trickle of blood on his chest from a particularly vicious beak wound. It was a victory, yes, but one at great cost to himself. In fact, he felt ruined.

Harry contemplated his life as he lay there. It was his utmost belief that he required a much-needed holiday. Though, it looked like that wouldn't be the case as he was, apparently, a father now. Turning his head, he looked over at the small bundle of feathers and blankets that the stork had dropped upon landing.

Suddenly, the bundle began to let out chirping sounds, the little babe making herself known to her new parents. The egg had apparently began to hatch as soon as the trial was completed. Harry knew that when a Veela cries, even as a tiny babe, it usually means they are hungry or otherwise displeased so he pulled himself to his feet and trudged over tiredly. Upon arriving at the pile of squawking blankets, he lifted up the little wicker basket.

Inside was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen, his heart immediately melted as he cooed at the beautiful chick nestled inside. His being began overflowing with love for his daughter, even though she was brought into his life in a most unusual fashion. All at once, he was struck with the knowledge right then and there that he'd do anything for the tiny baby looking up at him with round eyes, she was his angel.

He wiped some drool off of his daughter's chin before he looked up at his wife who was standing completely still, rooted in place from where she had been since the fight began. "It's rude to stare, you know," he called out to her in an affectionate, if slightly vindictive nature. After all, she had made him fight a steroided stork on short notice.

With a jerk Fleur rushed over to his side, taking the swaddled young girl into her arms and out of his. "Oh, gosh, I need to go send letters to everyone, let them know the good news," Fleur gushed as she held her baby for the first time. "We have to be careful for a while, only visitors who are allure immune, Harry. She will have slight bursts of it for a bit as she adjusts."

Nodding, Harry made a mental note that there would probably be many more lessons from the grateful Veela in front of him to come. He had a lot to learn about raising his baby girl.

A rustling noise caused him to look over at his vanquished enemy. The bird had raised itself back to its feet. Harry walked over to the bird and held out a hand, "you hit like a rhino," he complimented ruefully, his other hand rubbing his yellowing jaw.

The Stork eyed the hand in front of it before clasping a taloned hand around it, giving a worthy approximation of a shake. Upon closer inspection, the newly minted father was able to make out the tattoo on the feathered arm. It was a simple but obviously meaningful, 'Nauze' was all it said, the name surrounded by an orange heart.

Smiling, Harry turned back around so he could make his way over to his wife and daughter. Even through the aches and pain, he felt happy and comforted by the knowledge that all was well at last.

XXXXXXX

Authors Note: Those with a discerning eye may have noticed that there are a ridiculous number of references to other H/F stories weaved subtly (sometimes with the delicacy of a sledgehammer) throughout this goofy one-shot. Kudos to whoever can spot them all! There are 22 in total.

Please feel free to join the Harry/Fleur discord - server link on my profile - it is full of fun people who helped make the Storkollection event possible. Authors and readers alike are welcome!