Disclaimer: This fanfiction is a creative work of fiction crafted by a fan of both the Harry Potter and Game of Thrones series and is not officially sanctioned by J.K. Rowling, George R.R. Martin, HBO, or any related parties. All characters, events, and settings from both universes are utilized in a transformative manner and should be interpreted as such. Any resemblances to actual persons, living or deceased, or real-world events are coincidental. The views and interpretations presented in this fanfiction are the sole responsibility of the author(s) and do not necessarily align with the established canons of either Harry Potter or Game of Thrones. Reader discretion is advised as this fanfiction may explore crossover themes, character interactions, and storylines not found in the original works.
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As Harry stirs from his slumber, he blinks sleepily, his mind slowly returning to wakefulness. His senses come alive as he becomes aware of the warmth of another body pressed against his own, the gentle rise and fall of their breaths mingling in the stillness of the room.
Turning his head, Harry's eyes widen in surprise as he finds Dany nestled beside him, her form molded against his own in the intimacy of sleep. Her hair spills over her shoulders in a cascade of silver-gold strands, framing her peaceful expression with an ethereal glow.
For a moment, Harry is struck speechless by the sight of her, his heart fluttering with a mixture of emotions he struggles to name. He feels a surge of warmth and affection wash over him, a sense of closeness and connection that fills him with a quiet sense of contentment.
Gently, Harry reaches out to brush a stray lock of hair from Dany's face, his touch light and tender against her skin. As Harry gazes at Dany's sleeping form, a wave of disbelief washes over him. The similarities between Fleur and Dany are striking, their features nearly identical save for the color of their eyes. While Fleur's eyes were a deep, enchanting blue, Dany's are a vibrant shade of purple, reminiscent of amethysts.
It's a surreal moment for Harry, to see the woman he once loved so dearly reincarnated in the body of another. He traces the contours of Dany's face with his eyes, marveling at the subtle differences that set her apart from Fleur. And yet, despite these differences, there is an undeniable familiarity in the way she sleeps, the way her lashes flutter against her cheeks, the way her lips curve into a serene smile.
For Harry, it's a bittersweet realization – to have Fleur returned to him in some form, yet to know that she is not truly the woman he once knew. And yet, as he watches over her, a sense of gratitude fills his heart. Gratitude for the chance to have her back in his life, even if only for a fleeting moment. Gratitude for the opportunity to cherish her memory and carry her legacy forward into the future.
As the sunlight filters through the window, Harry finds solace in the presence of the woman who lies beside him. In Dany, he sees echoes of Fleur – echoes of love, of loss, of hope.
As Dany stirs from her slumber, she opens her eyes and greets Harry with a soft, melodious voice, tinged with the lilt of a French accent that he remembers fondly from his time with Fleur.
"Bonjour, mon coeur," she murmurs, her voice carrying a warmth and familiarity that instantly fills the room. "It is good to see your face again."
Her words evoke a rush of memories for Harry, transporting him back to the days when he and Fleur would share quiet moments together, their conversations filled with laughter, affection, and the gentle cadence of the French language.
For a moment, Harry is lost in the sweetness of her voice, the memories of their time together flooding his mind with a sense of longing and nostalgia. And as he gazes into Dany's eyes, he finds himself drawn to her once more, captivated by the echoes of Fleur's spirit that linger within her.
With a tender smile, Harry returns Dany's greeting, his heart filled with a sense of gratitude for the chance to be reunited with her, if only for a moment, in this unexpected twist of fate.
"Bonjour, mon ange," Harry replies, his voice soft and affectionate as he echoes Dany's greeting in French. "So I noticed that you can slip in and out of your French accent now."
Dany's smile widens at Harry's observation, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Oui, mon coeur," she replies, her French accent adding a musical lilt to her words. "It seems I've picked up a few tricks along the way."
She pauses, her expression turning thoughtful. "When you inhabit two different personas, you have to adapt, to blend in wherever you go. It's like... having two sides of the same coin, each with its own unique charm."
Harry nods in understanding, his gaze lingering on Dany with a mixture of admiration and affection. "Well, I must say, your French accent suits you," he says with a playful grin. "But then again, everything about you does."
As Harry's expression grows somber, the weight of Fleur's past and the tragedy she endured weighs heavily on his mind. Memories of her final moments, the pain and suffering she endured at the hands of Voldemort's followers, linger like a shadow in his thoughts.
"I can't even begin to imagine what you went through," Harry murmurs, his voice filled with empathy. "To endure such horrors, to face such darkness... it's beyond comprehension."
Sensing the shift in Harry's demeanor, Dany reaches out, her hand gently finding his as she offers a wordless gesture of comfort and support. Though her own heart still carries the scars of her past, she understands the weight of Harry's grief and the burden he carries.
"I remember everything they did, Harry," she says softly, her voice carrying a note of reassurance. "But from the afterlife, I also saw how you avenged what happened to me. The memories are dull, as they did not happen to this body."
Harry listens intently, his gaze filled with compassion as Dany shares her memories with him. He nods, understanding the weight of her words and the depth of her experiences.
"I'm glad you saw justice done, Dany," he replies, his voice gentle. "And I'm here for you, every step of the way. Together, we'll find a way to move forward, to honor the past while embracing the future."
His words are a promise, a vow to stand by her side as she navigates the complexities of her newfound existence.
As Dany speaks, Harry's gaze drifts to the leather pouch hanging from his neck, where Fleur's wand lies nestled among his other belongings. With a gentle motion, he reaches inside the pouch and retrieves the wand, its smooth surface cool to the touch.
"I think this belongs to you," he says softly, his voice tinged with warmth as he holds out the wand to Dany. "I've been carrying it with me ever since... well, since we said goodbye."
His words are a silent acknowledgment of the bond they share, a tangible reminder of the connection between them that transcends time and space. And as Dany takes the wand in her hand, she feels a surge of familiarity, a sense of homecoming that fills her with a deep sense of peace and belonging.
"Thank you, Harry," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper as she clutches the wand to her chest. "For everything."
Their eyes meet in a moment of shared understanding, a silent exchange of gratitude and appreciation for the journey that has brought them together. Dany's voice carries a note of hope as she asks, "Do you still have the engagement ring you gave me?"
Harry nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he reaches into the pouch. Retrieving the ring, he holds it out to her, the delicate band glinting in the soft light of the room.
"Of course, Dany," he replies, his voice filled with warmth and affection. "I promised to keep it safe, didn't I?"
As Dany reaches out to take the ring, their fingers brush against each other, sending a jolt of electricity through Harry's veins. In that moment, as their hands touch, Harry feels a surge of connection, a bond that transcends time and space, linking them together inextricably.
With a tender smile, Dany slips the ring onto her finger, her eyes shining with emotion as she gazes at the precious token of their love. In the quiet of the room, surrounded by the echoes of their past and the promise of their future, Harry and Dany share a moment of pure, unspoken understanding, a silent affirmation of the love that binds them together.
Dany's eyes sparkle with excitement as she expresses her desire to get married immediately, her voice filled with anticipation.
"I can't wait another day to become Mrs. Potter," she declares, her words tinged with urgency and longing. "Let's make it happen, Harry. Let's start our future together, right here, right now."
Her enthusiasm is infectious, and Harry finds himself caught up in the moment, his heart pounding with excitement at the prospect of marrying the woman he loves. With a smile, he takes her hand in his, their fingers intertwining in a silent vow of commitment and devotion.
"About that!" he states, his voice filled with apprehension. "How would you feel about being Mrs. Peverell instead?"
"Why Peverell" Dany asks.
"Westeros already has a House Potter in the Reach." Harry explains, "Moreover, Peverell sounds Valyrian enough that it will draw the attention of all the so-called players of the game."
Dany listens attentively with slightly furrowed eyebrows, processing his words before nodding in understanding.
"I see your point," she replies, her voice thoughtful. "Having a unique surname like Peverell would certainly draw attention, and it could help keep the focus away from Aegon and his true identity."
She pauses, considering the implications of Harry's suggestion. "And besides," she adds with a small smile, "Peverell does have a certain ring to it, doesn't it? It's like a bridge between our worlds, a symbol of our shared journey and the legacy we carry with us."
Her words resonate with Harry, and he nods in agreement, feeling a sense of relief at her understanding and acceptance. Together, they have faced countless challenges and overcome numerous obstacles, and now, as they stand on the threshold of a new chapter in their lives, they are united by their shared bond and their unwavering commitment to each other.
"Mrs. Peverell it is, then," Harry declares, his voice filled with certainty. "Let's embark on this journey together, hand in hand, as equals and partners in all things."
Dany rolls the name "Daenerys Peverell" around in her mouth, savoring the sound of it as it rolls off her tongue. It feels strange yet strangely familiar, a name that represents a new beginning and a fresh start.
"Daenerys Peverell," she repeats softly, testing the name as if trying it on for size. "It has a certain elegance to it, don't you think?"
As she speaks, a sense of excitement and anticipation fills her, mingling with the warmth of Harry's presence beside her. With her new name, she feels a renewed sense of purpose and identity, ready to embrace the future that lies ahead as Mrs. Peverell.
Deciding to get started on the day, Dany gets to work on changing her appearance.
With practiced precision, Dany channels her innate talent for enchantment, weaving the strands of magic with delicate finesse. Drawing upon her memories as Fleur Delacour, she casts a glamour charm, anchoring it to her engagement ring, a symbol of her love and commitment to Harry.
As the magic takes hold, Dany's appearance begins to shift, transforming before their eyes. Her features soften, taking on the ethereal beauty of Fleur, while her hair shimmers with a golden hue, reminiscent of the sun's golden rays. Her eyes shift from Purple to the Deep Blue of the original Fleur.
In a matter of moments, Dany stands before Harry, her likeness to Fleur uncanny yet undeniable. Her eyes sparkle with mischief as she gives him a playful twirl, her glamor casting a spell of enchantment that leaves him breathless with wonder.
"Although the golden hair suits you, I must confess, I've always been partial to your original silvery blonde," Harry remarks, his eyes tracing the shimmering strands of her hair with fondness. "But regardless of the color, you'll always be beautiful to me, Dany."
As Harry and Dany step into the magically expanded trunk, they find themselves surrounded by a wardrobe filled with Fleur's clothes, each garment imbued with memories of her past life. Dany's eyes widen with wonder as she takes in the array of elegant dresses, flowing gowns, and intricately embroidered robes.
"This is... incredible," she breathes, her voice filled with awe as she reaches out to touch the soft fabrics.
Harry nods in agreement, a nostalgic smile playing on his lips as he gazes at the familiar garments. "You always did have impeccable taste," he remarks, his tone tinged with fondness. "And you looked stunning in whatever you wore."
Together, they explore the contents of the wardrobe, each piece a testament to Fleur's grace and elegance. As they sift through the garments, Fleur quickly picks out a dress that would not look out of place in the place they were in, coupling it with a winter cloak. Just as she was done, her eyes caught something in the corner.
Dany's eyes linger on the red and gold armor, a striking ensemble designed for a woman. Intricate patterns adorn the armor, hinting at its craftsmanship and the skill of its creator. She reaches out tentatively, her fingers tracing the lines of the armor as she marvels at its beauty and strength.
"It's magnificent," she murmurs, her voice filled with admiration. "I've never seen anything quite like it."
Harry watches her with a knowing smile, understanding the significance of the armor to Fleur. "That armor was made for you," he says softly, his tone gentle yet earnest. "You always made comments about how dashing I looked in my armor. Your 'chevalier dans une armure brillante' you would call me. So I had the Goblins craft an Armor for you as well. It was supposed to be a birthday gift for you. But I never got the chance to give it to you."
Fleur's eyes widen in surprise and touched by Harry's words. She reaches out to touch the armor once more, feeling its weight and the intricate details that adorn it.
"I... I don't know what to say," she whispers, her voice filled with emotion. "Thank you, mon coeur. This means more to me than you can imagine."
As she looks at the armor, Dany feels a deep sense of gratitude and affection for Harry, knowing that he had thought of her even in the midst of his own struggles and challenges.
—
Stepping out of Harry's room, with Fleur under the invisibility cloak, they find Jon and Robb already present near Lord Stark's Solar. Jon informs Harry, that he already filled Robb in on the Fleur/Dany situation.
Harry nods in acknowledgment, grateful for Jon's quick thinking. He glances at Robb, who meets his gaze with a mixture of curiosity and concern.
"Robb," Harry begins, his voice steady as he addresses his friend. "I know this is a lot to take in, but Fleur... or rather, Dany, she's with us now. We need to keep her hidden, at least for the time being. Can we count on your discretion?"
Robb's expression softens as he takes in Harry's words, understanding the gravity of the situation. "Of course, Harry," he replies, his tone earnest. "You have my word. Whatever you need, we'll make it happen."
With Robb's assurance, Harry feels a sense of relief wash over him. They walk over, and knock on the door to Lord Stark's Solar
As the door to Lord Stark's Solar swings open, Harry, Jon, Robb, and Fleur step inside, their presence announced by the soft creak of hinges. They find themselves face to face with Lord Eddard Stark, seated behind his desk, his expression a mask of solemnity as he regards them with a keen gaze.
"Lord Stark," Harry begins, his voice steady despite the weight of the moment. "We come bearing important news."
Lord Stark's eyes narrow slightly, a flicker of concern passing over his features. "Speak," he commands, his tone firm and authoritative.
As Harry explains the intricacies of the situation to Lord Stark, the atmosphere in the room grows tense with each passing moment. Harry leaves no detail unspoken, recounting the events that led to Dany's arrival in Winterfell, her connection to Fleur Delacour, and the implications of her presence in their midst.
Lord Stark listens intently, his expression a mixture of concern and contemplation. As Harry's narrative unfolds, Lord Stark's brow furrows with thought, his eyes focusing on Harry with a gravity that speaks volumes.
When Harry finishes speaking, there is a weighty silence in the room, broken only by the crackling of the fire in the hearth. Lord Stark's gaze lingers on Harry for a moment longer before he speaks, his voice steady and resolute.
"This is a matter of great importance," Lord Stark says, his tone measured yet firm. "We must proceed with caution and consider all possible outcomes. But know this, Harry: Winterfell will offer Danaerys sanctuary and protection. She is welcome here, as long as she poses no threat to our people."
"But she must be kept hidden from the King's party that is set to arrive in a week's time." Lord Stark continues, remembering Robert's hatred for 'Dragonspawns', "Otherwise, it'll be all our heads on the executioner's block"
As Lord Stark's words hang heavy in the air, Harry nods in agreement, understanding the gravity of the situation. He knows that keeping Dany hidden from the King's party is paramount to their safety and well-being.
Dany steps out from under the invisibility cloak, her presence surprising Lord Stark, Jon, and Robb. But as she assures them of her commitment to remain hidden under a glamour at all times, their initial surprise gives way to cautious acceptance.
With a practiced gesture, Dany removes her engagement ring, causing the glamour to dissipate and revealing her true appearance. As she puts the ring back on, the glamour returns, masking her features once more in the guise of Fleur Delacour.
Lord Stark's gaze lingers on Dany for a moment longer, his expression unreadable. But as he meets her eyes, there is a sense of understanding and acceptance in his gaze.
"Very well," Lord Stark says, his voice firm yet not unkind. "We will keep your presence here a secret from the King's party. Winterfell will be your sanctuary, Dany. But know this: should any harm come to our people because of you, there will be consequences."
Dany nods solemnly, her resolve unwavering. "I understand," she replies, her voice steady with determination. "Thank you, Lord Stark, for your hospitality and your trust. Winterfell will always be my home."
With a respectful nod to Lord Stark, Harry once again speaks with conviction, his words carrying the weight of his earnest desire.
"My lord," he begins, his voice steady and unwavering, "I wish to marry Daenerys here, in Winterfell, under the Weirwood, according to the traditions of the Old Gods. It's a solemn and sacred place, and I believe it's where our union should be sanctified."
Lord Stark regards Harry with a thoughtful expression, considering his request carefully before responding.
"Such a union would indeed be fitting," he concedes, his tone grave yet understanding. "If it is your wish, Harry, then you have my blessing to proceed. May the Old Gods bless your union and watch over you both in the days to come."
Dany, now under the glamor, addresses everyone with a gentle yet determined tone.
"Until the time is right, please address me as Fleur," she requests, her voice carrying a note of urgency. "It is important that my true identity as Daenerys Targaryen remains hidden for now, for the safety of all of us."
Her words are met with solemn nods of understanding from Harry, Lord Stark, Jon, and Robb, each recognizing the gravity of the situation and the need for caution in the days ahead.
With Lord Stark's assurances and plans set, Harry, Dany, Jon, and Robb make their way out of the solar and head to the hall to join the rest of the Starks for breakfast.
As they enter the hall, Harry takes the lead, introducing Dany to everyone as Fleur Delacour, his betrothed. The Starks welcome her warmly, their curiosity piqued by the arrival of the mysterious French lady at Winterfell.
As Arya's curious gaze falls upon Dany, she can't help but voice the question that's been on her mind. "Where have you been all this time?" she asks, her tone a mix of curiosity and suspicion.
Dany meets Arya's gaze, her expression serene yet guarded. "I was lost," she replies simply, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "Separated from Harry, I wandered through lands unknown, searching for a way back to him."
Harry steps in, his voice soft yet tinged with regret. "I thought she was dead," he admits, his words heavy with the weight of the past. "I searched for her, Arya, but I couldn't find her. I thought I had lost her forever."
Sansa's eyes widen with a mixture of awe and excitement as she listens to Harry and Dany's story. "You two are like star-crossed lovers who are finally united," she exclaims, her voice filled with admiration. "It's like something out of a romantic tale!"
Dany smiles warmly at Sansa's enthusiastic reaction, her heart warmed by the girl's genuine excitement. "Perhaps we are," she muses, her tone wistful yet hopeful. "But now that we've found each other again, nothing can tear us apart."
Lord Stark nods in agreement with Harry's request, his expression grave yet accepting. "Harry here has expressed his desire to marry his betrothed tonight, under the Weirwood tree." he states, his voice carrying the weight of authority. "We will need to make the necessary arrangements for the ceremony to take place tonight, under the watchful gaze of the Old Gods."
Lady Stark's eyes flicker with a mixture of wariness and curiosity as she considers Harry's request. "It will be a tight schedule, but I believe we can manage," she says, her tone cautious yet determined. "We will make sure everything is prepared for the ceremony."
Sansa, ever eager to lend a helping hand, offers her assistance with the preparations. "I can help with the cloak," she suggests, her voice bright with enthusiasm. "I'm sure we can create something beautiful together. What Colors and Sigil will the cloak be?"
Harry smiles warmly at Sansa's offer, appreciating her eagerness to contribute to the preparations. "Thank you, Sansa," he says, his voice filled with gratitude. "I would be honored to have your help with the cloak."
He pauses for a moment, considering her question about the colors and sigil for the cloak. "The cloak will be red with a golden phoenix," he explains, his tone thoughtful yet decisive. "The golden phoenix being the sigil of House Peverell, a house with a storied history in our lands."
His announcement surprises everyone in the room, who had known him to be of House Potter. Sansa's eyes widen in astonishment, her expression a mixture of curiosity and intrigue. "House Peverell?" she repeats, her voice tinged with wonder. "I don't believe I've heard of them before."
Harry nods, his expression solemn yet determined as he begins to explain the history of House Peverell. "House Peverell was an ancient house in our lands," he begins, his voice carrying a note of reverence for the lineage he now represents. "They were known for their role in shaping our way of life."
He pauses for a moment, gathering his thoughts before continuing. "Unfortunately, House Peverell met its end after marrying into House Potter many generations ago," he explains, his tone tinged with sadness at the loss of such a noble lineage. "But as Westeros already has a House Potter in the Reach, as the last of House Peverell I feel it is my duty to revive their legacy and honor their memory."
Sansa listens intently, her eyes shining with curiosity as she absorbs the tale of House Peverell. "It's a noble endeavor, Harry," she says, her voice filled with admiration. "I'm sure House Peverell will rise again under your leadership."
Harry smiles gratefully at Sansa's words, touched by her support. "Thank you, Sansa," he replies, his voice heartfelt. "With your help, I'm confident we can bring honor and glory back to House Peverell."
As the preparations for the wedding under the Weirwood tree begin in earnest, Harry and Dany—known to everyone as Fleur—find themselves surrounded by friends and allies, united in their determination to forge a new future together.
—
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