CHAPTER 39: UNVEILING VEELA PROPHECIES

Fleur's smile took on a rueful quality as a flood of memories washed over her, each moment etched vividly in her mind. "Honestly, there was a part of me that wanted to decline outright. But you know, there's a certain allure to challenges that I find hard to resist. And you, Harry, proved to be the most enticing challenge of them all."

She paused, her gaze fixed on the crackling fire that cast warm, dancing shadows across the room. The ambient light added a certain intensity to the unfolding conversation. "Griphook's proposition was shrewd, I must admit. What he failed to comprehend was that I, too, harbored my own motives. Taking up that role wasn't merely about serving you at Gringotts; it was a strategic move to gain insight, to shield, and yes, to confront both the existing system and my own capabilities."

As Fleur collected her thoughts, Harry's curiosity gleamed in his eyes. "So, you accepted the position to keep tabs on me?"

Fleur chuckled softly, the sound blending with the crackling of the fire. "Partly, yes. But not in the way one might assume. Griphook envisioned using me as a pawn, a tool to maneuver you as he pleased. However, he sorely underestimated a crucial factor—I am not easily swayed. Moreover, the position granted me access to critical information, unveiling aspects of Gringotts' inner workings that would have otherwise remained hidden. It became an opportunity to decipher their tactics and, perhaps, uncover means to counteract them."

Harry's interest sparked further. "Yet, you chose to remain even after resigning," he observed, his intrigue growing.

"Ah, that's where the intricacy deepens," Fleur mused, her tone carrying a thoughtful cadence. "When I departed, it transcended the realm of mere employment. It became about... well, let's call it a curiosity that centered around you. I observed your interactions, witnessed your struggles, and marveled at your unwavering determination. You ceased to be just the 'Boy-Who-Lived'; you became Harry, navigating a world that perpetually demanded everything from you. I found that aspect incredibly intriguing."

Their exchange paused momentarily, allowing the quiet crackle of the fire to fill the space between them. Lost in contemplation, Harry eventually broke the silence. "But you didn't have to stay. You could've walked away at any time."

Fleur met his gaze, her eyes reflecting a blend of sincerity and determination. "True. However, at that point, it extended beyond Gringotts or any sense of obligation. I remained because I chose to. It became more than just a job; it was a conscious decision to be part of something greater—something entwined with you and your journey."

Their words hung in the air, unspoken sentiments resonating in the room. Harry realized that their connection ran far deeper than he had initially perceived. Fleur's presence wasn't merely a result of circumstance; it was a deliberate choice, one that carried more significance than the boundaries of a professional relationship.

Fleur turned back to face him, her expression revealing a mix of surprise and amusement. "Oh, certainly both. You possess a keen sense of humor, Harry. But yes, initially, it felt akin to observing a rare magical creature—fascinating, curious, and undeniably unpredictable."

Drawing nearer, Fleur's demeanor shifted into a more earnest tone. "As time unfolded, my perception underwent a transformation. I started peeling away the layers you presented to the world. Your struggles, your fears—they resonated with me. It transcended the realm of mere comprehension; it became about forging a connection on a different plane. I came to understand that you weren't simply seeking companionship; you were yearning for understanding, empathy, perhaps even a touch of solace from someone unburdened by the weight of your fame."

Harry's brow furrowed slightly. "So, you saw me as some kind of puzzle?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes. But not in a detached or clinical sense," Fleur clarified. "It was more like a puzzle with missing pieces waiting to be uncovered. I took joy in unraveling those pieces, in comprehending what made Harry Potter, the person concealed behind the name, tick."

She paused, a faint smile playing on her lips. "As for the notion of pursuing a romantic connection, it crossed my mind fleetingly, only to be swiftly dismissed. I recognized that what we shared surpassed such simplistic notions. It became about mutual respect, understanding, and, dare I say, a genuine friendship budding amidst the chaos of our lives."

Harry's gaze softened as he absorbed her words. "I never saw it from that perspective."

"Neither did I, at first," Fleur confessed. "Life has a tendency to throw surprises our way, doesn't it? And you, Harry, have been one of its most delightful surprises."

Their shared moment lingered in the air, a newfound understanding settling between them. Harry couldn't help but acknowledge the depth of the connection that had grown, a bond that surpassed the boundaries of professional relations or hasty assumptions. It was a realization that their unconventional journey had brought them to a place of genuine companionship and understanding.

Fleur drew a shaky breath, her gaze briefly averting. "It died," she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Allure. When I attempted to use it on you, it fizzled out. It was as if your will, your strength of character, repelled it. It wasn't merely a rejection of me; it was a rejection of the very essence I wielded."

Harry's mind raced, grappling with the weight of her words. "So, it didn't work?"

"No," Fleur affirmed, meeting his gaze with a blend of vulnerability and remorse. "It marked the first time in my life that my Allure failed me. It was terrifying, Harry. I've always maintained control, always held the upper hand. But in that moment, I felt powerless, exposed."

"You weren't powerless," Harry interjected softly. "You were just… vulnerable."

She nodded, a tear slipping down her cheek. "I let my old instincts take over, the ones I've been battling for years. In that moment, I realized how much I'd changed. How much I'd grown attached to you, to the person you are beneath all the fame and expectations."

Harry's features softened, empathy evident in his eyes. "Fleur, I had no idea."

"I know," she murmured. "And I didn't expect you to understand. I've never allowed anyone to see that side of me—the side that struggles, the side that fears losing control."

The weight of her confession hung in the air, a fragile honesty laid bare between them. Harry found himself at a loss for words, the revelation stirring emotions he hadn't anticipated. He reached out tentatively, placing a hand on hers, offering a silent gesture of support. Their connection, once rooted in professional duties, had blossomed into something far more profound—a shared vulnerability that transcended expectations.

"I'm sorry," Fleur said, her voice barely audible. "I never meant to make you uncomfortable or use my abilities against you. I've been striving to change, to be better. But sometimes, the past sneaks up on you, and old habits resurface."

"It's okay," Harry said gently, squeezing her hand reassuringly. "We all have our demons to face. And it's a testament to your strength that you're making an effort to overcome them."

Their eyes met, an unspoken understanding passing between them. In that moment, it transcended the boundaries of employer and employee, moving beyond past mistakes. It was about two individuals acknowledging their vulnerabilities, their histories, and finding solace in each other's acceptance.

Fleur's frustration crackled in the air like static electricity. "No, Harry, I do know. I do! But in that moment, in that raw emotional turmoil, it felt like a slap to my face. It felt like being cast aside for someone who fit the image, the expectations laid upon you. And I hated it."

Harry exhaled heavily, attempting to navigate the intricate tangle of emotions woven into Fleur's words. "Fleur, I never intended to hurt you. I didn't realize… I didn't see it from your perspective."

"Because you're too kind, too caring," Fleur replied, a mixture of resentment and admiration in her voice. "You never see the damage you inadvertently cause, Harry. You trust too easily, you give too much without realizing the consequences."

"But you have to understand, Daphne wasn't... it wasn't about her being better or worse. It was about choices I had to make," Harry explained, his voice tinged with a touch of desperation. "It was about fulfilling obligations, duties that were expected of me. I never wanted to make you feel inadequate."

Fleur's expression softened a fraction. "I know. And I've come to understand it… in retrospect. But back then, in that moment, it stung."

"I'm sorry," Harry said, his voice carrying the weight of genuine remorse. "I didn't want to drive a wedge between us."

"It's not just about that," Fleur confessed, her tone tinged with vulnerability. "It's about my own insecurities, my fears. You became a symbol, a mirror reflecting everything I struggled with. And sometimes, facing a mirror is too painful."

Their conversation hung in the air, heavy with unspoken emotions. Harry recognized how their perspectives had collided, how misunderstandings had led to hurt. He yearned to bridge that gap, to find a way to mend the rift that had formed between them.

"Fleur, I can't change what's already happened," Harry began tentatively. "But I want to understand. I want us to find a way past this, to move forward. Can we?"

Her eyes met his, searching for sincerity, for an earnestness in his words. After a moment's hesitation, she nodded slowly. "I'd like that, Harry. I truly would."

Their shared agreement held a glimmer of hope, a possibility of rebuilding what had been strained by miscommunications and misinterpretations. It was a step forward, a fragile truce in the tumultuous journey they had navigated together.

However, Fleur's gaze shifted, revealing a sudden change in tone. "I couldn't care less. You were a challenge, flaunting that feeble, naive girl and insinuating I was beneath her. I couldn't fathom why. My features outshine hers—better curves, a prettier face, and hair that's beyond compare. I'm Veela. No one surpasses me. Especially not her. Yet, you kept gravitating towards her. Towards them. You completed that ritual while I remained confined in the friend zone."

The unexpected turn in Fleur's words left Harry speechless, a new layer of complexity added to their already intricate dynamic. The tentative truce now seemed more fragile than ever, with unresolved tensions lingering beneath the surface.

Her stare turned hungry, intense. "I convinced myself you were deluded. That you needed a woman like me—someone real. You desired me, not her, but your misguided principles hindered you from seizing what you truly wanted. Don't deny it. I saw the longing in your eyes, yearning to break free from the restraints you imposed on yourself. But you didn't."

Harry sensed where her words were leading, bracing himself for what might come next.

Fleur's gaze intensified, a hunger burning within her. "I convinced myself you were irrational. That you craved a woman of substance—someone like me. You desired me, not her. But your pesky moral code, your own internal barriers, hindered you from claiming what you truly desired. Don't feign ignorance; I saw the flicker of desire in your eyes, the yearning to discard the chains you imposed upon yourself. Yet, you restrained yourself."

Harry braced for what he suspected would come next, a sense of foreboding settling in the air.

Fleur's declaration hit Harry like a sudden storm. Her words echoed with a chilling intensity. "I am a Veela. Witnessing other women in despair fuels me. Knowing Daphne Greengrass was by your side, while being immune to my allure… it awakened a darkness within me. Rejecting me was the worst thing you could have done. But flaunting that girl like that? Unforgivable. I convinced myself Daphne Greengrass would weep for your choices. You resisted my allure, yet that didn't mean you could resist me."

She stood tall now, confronting him directly. "The Fleur I crafted for two years vanished. The sinister, twisted side resurfaced. You wanted to make me feel normal, give me something different. Instead, you unleashed something worse. The ambition of my youth merged with the discipline I honed through Occlumency. I became an unstoppable force, but you remained an immovable object. I was prepared to play. Prepared to do anything to conquer you. Anything."

The memory of the psychic impact he'd endured on the way to Gringotts surfaced vividly in Harry's mind.

"You know the rest. Gringotts happened. Suddenly, I realized I'd been outmaneuvered. And witnessing your irrational behavior, I knew Griphook would claim victory for himself. How dare he? I did the groundwork, yet he'd take credit? No. I stepped back. Did I know you wouldn't discard me? Absolutely. Did I withdraw because I knew you'd shoulder the blame? Perhaps. I never reached that point."

They had circled back to the beginning. In another world, Fleur might have discussed her nature privately, not exposing her sins. Instead, she found herself pleading her case to an unforgiving judge. Why? Because she knew him? But would that...?

That line of thought led Harry down a different memory lane. Fleur, for all her claims, seemed to act in ways contradictory to her professed nature. Despite her proclaimed ambition, she offered to be the rebound girl, even suggesting giving Daphne a fair chance. She knew her words had stung him, yet she forced out the unvarnished truth. Was she subconsciously sabotaging herself? Was the attraction between Fleur the Veela and Harry the Outcast merely damaged individuals gravitating toward one another?

The questions lingered in the air, creating an intricate web of uncertainties between them. The unraveling of their complex relationship continued, revealing layers that neither had fully comprehended.

Finally, Harry spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, laden with contemplation.

Harry's voice carried the weight of disappointment, the edges sharp with betrayal. Fleur's heart clenched, the accusation hitting her like a physical blow. She struggled to meet his eyes, feeling the weight of every accusation he laid upon her.

"I know you believed in me, 'Arry," she whispered, her voice shaky with emotion. "I wished... I wished that could be enough."

His eyes, once filled with warmth, now held an icy detachment that pierced through her. Fleur's throat tightened, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she fought to find the words to explain, to justify her actions.

"I didn't want... I never wanted any of it," she stammered, her voice cracking with the burden of guilt. "I am not proud of what I've done, but I had no other choice. You have to understand, 'Arry, it was a matter of survival for me and my family."

Harry's jaw tensed, his fists clenching at his sides. "Survival at the cost of others' lives? Is that what you're trying to justify?" His tone was laced with disbelief and a lingering hope that she would give him an answer that made sense.

Fleur's eyes welled up with tears, shimmering like crystals under the harsh light. "I didn't have a choice... It was either them or us. You have to believe me; I never wanted to hurt anyone."

"Believe you?" Harry scoffed, the bitterness palpable in his voice. "You took a life and relished it. What about that poor student you killed? Did they have a choice?"

Fleur's breath hitched, her heart wrenching with the memory. "I didn't want to... I tried to avoid it, 'Arry, but circumstances..."

"Enough excuses!" Harry's voice rose, cutting through the air like a blade. Fleur flinched, a sob escaping her lips.

"I've heard your side, every detail, every excuse," he continued, his voice lowering but the intensity unabated. "Now, I need to know why you chose to lay it all bare, to make me understand."

Her gaze darted to the ground, unable to meet his probing stare. "I had to... I wanted you to know the truth, to see everything... to see me for who I am."

"Why?" Harry's voice softened, carrying a note of desperation mingled with confusion. "Why make me experience it all, every grim detail?"

Fleur's shoulders sagged, her resolve crumbling under his gaze. "Because I wanted you to judge for yourself... to see if you could ever forgive me."

Harry's features softened, a mixture of empathy and conflict etched on his face. "Forgiveness, Fleur, is not something easily granted. It's earned."

She swallowed hard, her throat tight with emotion. "I know... I just hoped..."

"Hope is a fragile thing," Harry said, his voice gentle now. "But sometimes, it's all we have."

Their eyes locked in a silent exchange of emotions, the weight of the unspoken words lingering in the air between them. The moment stretched, heavy with the unspoken tension, before Harry turned away, leaving Fleur standing there, grappling with her remorse and a flicker of hope.

Fleur's gaze held a mix of astonishment and uncertainty as Harry's words settled in the air between them. She struggled to find her voice, grappling with the weight of his accusations.

"You think I never tried to manipulate you?" Her words trembled with a hint of disbelief. "But I did... I attempted to... I tried to make you see..."

Harry interrupted, his expression resolute yet curious. "You had ample opportunities, Fleur. Moments when I was vulnerable, when you could have easily swayed my feelings. But you didn't."

A shadow of confusion flickered across Fleur's face, a cascade of emotions playing out in her eyes. "I... I didn't want to deceive you," she finally admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I wanted you to see me for who I truly am, not through some enchantment or manipulation."

Harry's gaze softened, a glimmer of understanding dawning in his eyes. "You've always been honest, even if it's about your darkest truths. You've given me the freedom to judge you based on what you've revealed, not what you could have hidden. Why?"

Fleur hesitated, her thoughts racing as she searched for the right words. "Because... because I wanted your choice to be yours, not influenced by any magic or coercion. I wanted you to choose me, if at all, for the person I am, not for a spell or allure."

Harry's brows furrowed as he studied her, a mixture of skepticism and contemplation evident on his face. "And what if I choose not to hate you despite everything?"

A mirthless smile tugged at the corner of Fleur's lips. "Then you'd be seeing beyond the monster they paint me to be."

The room hung heavy with unspoken words, the tension between them palpable. Fleur's eyes searched his face for any sign of understanding, any glimpse of acceptance.

"Judge me," she repeated, her voice softer this time, almost a plea.

Harry's expression softened, a glint of empathy surfacing in his eyes. "I'm not here to judge, Fleur. I'm trying to understand. I'm trying to see beyond the stories and the perceptions."

A wave of relief washed over Fleur's features, a flicker of gratitude shining in her eyes. "Thank you, 'Arry," she murmured, her voice laden with emotion.

Harry shook his head gently. "There's still much I don't understand, much that needs clarity. But one thing is clear to me now..."

Fleur held her breath, waiting for his next words, her heart pounding in anticipation.

"You're not the monster they claim you to be," Harry stated firmly, his voice unwavering. "You're someone trying to make amends in your own way, someone seeking redemption."

Fleur's eyes glistened with unshed tears, a glimmer of hope breaking through the darkness that had shrouded her for so long. For the first time, a tentative smile graced her lips, a fragile but genuine expression of gratitude.

Harry's resolve remained strong as he looked at her, a silent promise lingering in his gaze. They stood there, amidst the weight of their words, the unspoken understanding forming a fragile bridge between them.

Harry's words hung in the air, each one a weight that settled heavily on Fleur's shoulders. She searched for a rebuttal, a way to deny his accusations, but the truth of his words bore down on her.

"I've never intended to sabotage myself," she protested, her voice tinged with desperation. "I never meant to—"

Harry's gaze held steady, his expression unwavering. "Intentions don't always align with actions, Fleur. Sometimes, without realizing it, we act against our own desires."

Her chest tightened with the weight of his words, a realization dawning within her. "But why... why would I do that?" Fleur's voice quivered with a mixture of confusion and disbelief.

Harry's tone softened, a glimmer of empathy in his eyes. "Maybe because you wanted to protect yourself. Maybe because deep down, you knew that pursuing me through manipulation or coercion wouldn't bring genuine connection."

Fleur's breath caught in her throat, the pieces of a puzzle she never knew existed falling into place. "I never wanted to hurt you," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Harry's expression softened, a faint smile playing on his lips. "I know, Fleur. And in your own way, you've shown it."

Tears welled up in Fleur's eyes, a mixture of relief and sorrow flooding through her. "I've been so wrong..."

"It's not about right or wrong," Harry reassured her gently. "It's about understanding ourselves, our actions, and choosing a different path if we see it leads to hurting others or ourselves."

She nodded slowly, the weight of Harry's words sinking deep into her heart. "I never thought I'd find a friend in you, Harry."

Harry's smile widened, a warmth in his eyes. "Funny how life surprises us sometimes."

They stood there, in the midst of a revelation, two individuals with their vulnerabilities laid bare, finding an unexpected bond amidst the chaos of their emotions. The truth hung in the air, a silent acknowledgment between them, transcending words.

Fleur's heart felt lighter, a newfound clarity washing over her. "Thank you, Harry. For showing me what I couldn't see."

Harry offered her a reassuring nod. "We all stumble in the dark sometimes. It's the journey towards the light that matters."

As they exchanged a final glance, a silent understanding passed between them, paving the way for a different chapter in their story. With a nod and a small smile, they parted ways, each carrying a deeper understanding of themselves and the other.

Harry's playful jab broke the tension, unraveling the heaviness that enveloped them moments ago. Fleur's laughter, though tear-streaked, was like music to Harry's ears, a testament to the resilience of the human spirit.

"You English are all the same," Fleur teased, her voice laced with humor. "Always pointing out the obvious."

Harry chuckled, the weight on his shoulders lifting with her laughter. "Well, someone's got to remind you, don't they?"

Their banter, though light-hearted, carried an undercurrent of understanding. It was a moment of respite in the midst of the storm that had engulfed them.

"But seriously," Harry said, his tone turning more serious, "I meant what I said. I'll wait for you to figure things out. Whatever it might be."

Fleur's gaze softened, a glimmer of gratitude shining through her tear-stained eyes. "You are... too kind, 'Arry."

"Maybe," Harry shrugged. "Or maybe I'm just stubborn. Ask Hermione, she'll agree."

Their laughter echoed in the room, a semblance of normalcy returning after the tumultuous conversation they'd just had.

As the mirth settled, Fleur's expression turned more somber. "I do not know what will 'appen from 'ere," she admitted, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

"Neither do I," Harry confessed, his tone gentle. "But we'll figure it out together, won't we?"

Fleur nodded, a newfound determination flickering in her eyes. "Yes, we will."

Their unspoken agreement lingered in the air, a silent promise of support and understanding. With a shared smile, they parted ways, each carrying the weight of their past interactions but also a glimmer of hope for what the future might hold.

The air on the balcony was charged with an unspoken tension as Harry returned to the bedroom. Fleur's presence against the moonlit backdrop was mesmerizing, an ethereal sight that held him captive. She stood with an air of grace, her white terrycloth robe enhancing her elegance as if she were a muse from another realm. The faint mist behind her lent an otherworldly aura, almost framing her like a celestial being. It was a tableau that whispered of intrigue and allure.

Harry, captivated by her presence, moved closer. "Enjoyed your bath?" he murmured, trying to mask his own intrigue.

"Oui," she replied softly, her gaze fixed on him.

He couldn't help but smile. "It's been a long week. But now, I've got something set for us to eat."

Their dinner was a lavish affair, a testament to Dobby's meticulous efforts. Odgen's Finest accompanied the spread, adding a touch of luxury to the evening. Yet amidst the culinary delights, Harry found his attention repeatedly drawn to Fleur's attire—a silk robe that tantalizingly hinted at her form. He sensed her deliberate attempt to entice him, to test the waters of his restraint.

Fleur exuded an aura of seduction, a fact that remained unchanged. She sent unmistakable signals throughout the meal, teasing him discreetly with every movement. Underneath the table, her bare legs brushed against his, her gaze an invitation for more than just dessert.

Harry, however, chose the path of the gentleman, refusing to succumb to the game she seemed to be playing. He met her sultry stares with a knowing glance, his resolve unwavering. In this game of unspoken desires, he was determined to match her subtlety with his own.

As the feast concluded, Harry found himself examining the gift Fleur had bestowed upon him. The pendant held enchantments that intrigued him—a portable wardstone designed to harness the ambient magic of Hogwarts. Fleur's growing confusion and evident frustration as he remained engrossed in the pendant did not escape his notice.

He settled at the edge of the bed, his fingers tracing the intricate design of the pendant, his comments on its craftsmanship serving as a shield to conceal his thoughts. Fleur's gaze bore into him, a mixture of confusion and impatience evident in her expression, yet Harry held firm in his resolve to maintain this delicate balance of unspoken intentions.

"Fascinating piece of craftsmanship, isn't it?" Fleur's voice was tinged with curiosity and a hint of frustration.

Harry nodded, his gaze fixed on the pendant. "Absolutely mesmerizing. Especially since it was made by you."

"Do you find it to be the most interesting thing in this room?" Fleur pressed, taking a step closer to him.

Harry pretended to mull it over, scratching his head theatrically. "Hmm, there might just be one thing that catches my interest more."

A smile graced Fleur's lips as she leaned in, intrigued. "And what might that be?"

"The way your ward uses intrusive magic to fortify itself," Harry replied, deliberately steering the conversation back to his own curiosity.

Fleur threw her hands up in exasperation. "Merlin! Enough about the ward! Don't toy with me, I'm warning you."

"But isn't it fascinating? Using what's meant to be harmful to make me stronger?" Harry persisted.

"Poetic?" Fleur suggested with a smirk.

"Dichotomous," he countered with a grin. "Perhaps for your next experiment, you could delve into my 'death magic' and turn it into something life-saving?"

Fleur was visibly agitated, but a trace of a smile played on her lips. With a fluid movement, she lunged at him, pinning him down playfully. "Hope you believe in life after death, Mr. Potter."

Amidst laughter, Harry struggled to respond. "Truth is, I've always found it hard to imagine anything beyond this world. The next great adventure seems more Dumbledore's style."

"Never had a spiritual experience then?" Fleur inquired, her tone teasing.

Harry shook his head. "Nope. Doubt I'm the type for a spiritual epiphany."

Fleur slipped off her robe, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Ever been to bed with a Veela?"

Harry's laughter faltered at her unexpected question. "Uh, no, can't say I have."

Fleur leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear, her breath sending shivers down his spine. "Well, Mr. Potter, you're in for a treat."

The atmosphere shifted, the playful banter turning into a charged moment. Fleur's allure enveloped him, a subtle but undeniable force that stirred something within Harry. It was a dance between temptation and restraint, a delicate balance that hung in the air like a magical charm.

As Fleur's lips met his, Harry felt the pull of her Veela magic, an enchantment that transcended the physical. The room seemed to shimmer with an ethereal glow, the boundaries between reality and desire blurring. In that moment, Harry surrendered to the intoxicating allure, allowing himself to be carried away on the currents of a passion that defied explanation.

Their connection deepened, a fusion of magic and emotion, as they navigated the uncharted waters of their desires. The night unfolded in a symphony of shared secrets and whispered promises, the boundaries between them fading away.

As dawn approached, they lay intertwined, the aftermath of their shared journey written on their faces. The unspoken understanding between Harry and Fleur lingered, a newfound connection that defied the constraints of their tumultuous past.

The morning sun painted the room in hues of warmth, casting a gentle glow on their entwined forms. In that quiet moment, as they faced the dawn together, Harry and Fleur carried the weight of their shared experiences and the promise of a future yet to unfold.

Welcome to PEVERELL_LEGACY on P.A.T.R.E.O.N . This is where the magic happens, where stories come to life, and where you get the first glimpse of what's next.

FOR SUPPORT AND EARLY ACCESS TO NEW CHAPTERS JOIN US ON P.A.T.R.E.O.N. PEVERELL_LEGACY

NOTE: I WILL PUBLIC NEXT UPDATE OF STORIES ON P.A.T.R.E.O.N A DAY BEFORE RELEASING ON FANFICTION YOU CAN JOIN P.A.T.R.E.O.N. FOR FREE TO READ A DAY EARLY.