Nothing is mine.

We're about to start a string of of my favourite chapter titles, they're delightfully appropriate. You'll see what I mean!

The Storm Above the Sea

A soft warmth surrounded Harry, soaking into him from the silver blanket and Fleur's hot skin against his side; with each quiet breath, he inhaled the faint sweetness of cherry blossom.

The hovering silver cogs of Fleur's clock floated over her desk, their little teeth flashing in the slim beam of light lancing through the gap in the curtains. Behind them, the little wisteria earring hung from the glass vase edge beneath the rose's bright red petals and glossy green leaves and within their gleaming frame, the photos of Fleur and Gabby smiled and waved.

Harry watched the clock spin; the world spun with it, all the colour and the warmth and the quiet noise of Fleur's breathing sank into it, swirling away like water down a drain into the dark.

Every time it spins, another second slips past. He curled his toes beneath the silver blanket and took a long deep breath, but the storm stirred, a hungry murmur of yearning deep in his heart. I have to keep my promises. Or it will all be for nothing.

'Fleur,' he whispered.

Fleur shifted against his shoulder. 'Non,' she murmured, burrowing her face into the crook of his neck. 'Too early, mon Amour.'

'I can't just lie here waiting…' He brushed her silver hair back off her face, tucking it behind her ear. 'You can sleep longer if you want, but…'

Fleur moaned and one bright blue eye opened. 'If you want to wake me up, mon Amour, I can think of more fun ways to do it…'

Harry pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. 'And what ways would those be, my beautiful bird-wife?'

She stretched, snuggling into his side. 'There is tarte au citron in the fridge…'

'Ah, my sugar-addicted veela wife is hoping I will bring her breakfast in bed.' Harry smiled. 'I'm sure I can manage that, mon Amour.'

'Or you could just stay and hold me?'

'I need—' Harry swallowed a stab of yearning '—I need to be awake and doing things, mon Trésor.'

Fleur pushed herself up in the bed and shot him a small smirk as the silver blanket slipped away; the white sheet clung to the curves of her breasts and the faint shadow of her nipples beneath the cotton sent a little trickle of heat coursing through Harry's veins. 'Can I be the things, mon Coeur?'

He laughed and wriggled out from under the sheets. 'Let me find you breakfast, mon Ange.' Harry tucked the silver blanket around her shoulders. 'You stay warm and comfortable with cake and I will bounce ideas off you.'

'Ideas?' A little wrinkle creased Fleur's forehead. 'For your… project?'

'Yes,' he replied, pulling on his robes.

'We promised Gabby no more secrets, mon Amour,' she murmured. 'If you want me to help, you have to tell me everything you are planning to do with this.' Fleur hummed. 'And also get my tarte au citron for my breakfast.'

'Je te le promets.' Harry patted her foot and spun the world back past him, apparating into the kitchen. 'Lemon tart…' He gathered up a plate and a fork, opening the fridge.

A broad yellow tart sat upon the top shelf between éclairs and a thick, rich slice of chocolate cake.

That looks promising.

Harry scooped it out of the fridge, leaving the thin brown paper base behind and slid it onto the plate. 'Is she going to want to eat the whole thing?' He laughed and summoned a clean fork from beside the sink, apparating back up as the cold metal slapped into his palm. 'Silly question.'

'Question?' Fleur asked.

'I was wondering if you wanted me to cut you a slice or just bring the entire thing,' Harry said, tucking his pillow over her lap and placing her breakfast atop it. 'But then I remembered you don't really do slices unless you're literally forced to buy it as a slice; and then you buy several and eat them all in one go.' He patted her tummy. 'I don't know how you're so slim. Genuinely, where does all the sugar go?'

Fleur stuck her lower lip out and stole the fork from between his fingers. 'It goes to power my special veela magicks and our veela mate bond.'

'I don't think it does.' Harry chuckled.

'Then… maybe—' she tucked her left forearm beneath her breasts and bounced them a couple of times'—it all goes here.'

'I think that's also unlikely,' he replied, 'but, just in case…' Harry poked the plate toward her.

She laughed. 'If they were any bigger I would only get back pain and they would look out of size with the rest of me. They are perfect as they are, mon Amour, non?'

'Bien sûr,' Harry whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head. 'You are always perfect for me.'

Fleur sliced a piece of tart off with the edge of her fork and impaled it on the tines. 'So, mon Amour… your project?'

'Yes.' Molten yearning bubbled up. 'It's going to be big, bigger than anything that's ever been done as far as I know. And it will find all those children out there dreaming of something more than orange tiles and concrete and tarmac and neat little privet hedges. It will give them magic, give them meaning, make them someone. I'm going to give them their wishes, Fleur. One perfect wish they so desperately hoped for. And that's… that's all you need, no?'

Her blue eyes softened as Fleur slipped the piece of lemon tart into her mouth and chewed. 'But how, mon Coeur?' She sliced off another piece. 'It took us over a year to create La Victoire Finale and this…'

'Je sais,' Harry whispered.

But I have to keep my promises, it's the only way to be sure.

'It is a very long step from changing ourselves to changing the whole world,' Fleur said, dabbing a crumb of pastry off the sheet with her finger. 'Where are you going to begin?'

With Kart Hadasht.

'It's a smaller step from changing a country to changing the world,' Harry said. 'I will use Kart Hadasht's magic as the template.'

Fleur's eyes narrowed. 'The sacrifice of children, mon Amour?'

A cold sickness churned in his belly. 'Not like that.' He grappled with the swirling nausea. 'Never like that.' Harry shuddered at the memory of the storm of screams and Sophonissa's plunge into the red flames. 'The sacrifice will come from everyone. That way, eventually, it has to work, because if enough people want to change the world, they can, right?'

'Somehow,' she murmured, slicing off a small square of tart.

'Somehow.' Harry extended his left hand, summoning his wand from their bed. 'I can't go back to the Tophet of Kart Hadasht. I said I wouldn't, but for this… I think I should swear it, so everything I might have done with it is part of this, instead. And I'm the only descendant left at the moment, so it's all anyone might have ever done with it.'

Ba'alat Tanit demands sacrifice. Two for the flames. And one… A little smile spread across Harry's lips. And one to eclipse the legacy of Rome...

'Magical oaths are very dangerous.' The blue of Fleur's eyes darkened as she ate another piece of tart. 'But you will just try and do it when I am not here if I disagree, non?'

Harry shot her a helpless look, guilt gnawing at him. 'I have—'

'Je sais,' she murmured, squirming across and patting the bed beside her. 'Come here, mon Amour.'

He sat on the warm patch of sheet and blanket, wrapping an arm around Fleur's shoulders. 'It's not a secret. I just…'

Fleur poked him in the lip with a forkful of lemon tart. 'Eat your breakfast, mon Amour. And listen to your bird-wife.'

'I'm listening to my bird-wife.' Harry opened his mouth and let her feed him the sweet, sharp lemon tart.

'I will choose the words of the oath,' she said. 'You are not allowed to risk our sunset for this, so I will make sure you cannot by choosing the oath. There will be nothing about your project in it.' Her irises flashed black. 'You will not enchant your soul with some vague idea of something great and destroy everything we sacrificed for just because you're fretting.'

Harry winced. 'Okay, you choose the words, just… be careful.'

'Wand.' Fleur set her fork down and held out her hand. 'It is going to be very simple to avoid anything going wrong.'

He passed her his wand.

'Do you, Harry, swear to never set foot in Kart Hadasht ever again?' she asked.

'I do.'

A tongue of white flame curled from the tip of his wand coiling around his wrists and melting through his skin in a flash of fierce heat.

'Voilà.' Fleur slid his wand under the sheet between her breasts and dropped it. 'After I have finished my breakfast, you can try and get that back, mon Amour.'

Harry eyed the slim line of his wand between the cotton clinging to Fleur's curves. 'I might get distracted.'

'Très distrait, j'espère.' The corner of Fleur's mouth curved up into a little smirk and the dark drained from her eyes. 'I am not going to give it up for free.'

'And what would I have to bribe my beautiful bird-wife with to get my wand back?' he asked. 'More cake?'

'Non,' Fleur murmured, picking her fork back up; a little fire smouldered in her bright blue eyes and a soft hot thrill fluttered through Harry's veins. 'You will have to think of something else.'

He chuckled. 'Well, I have plenty of time to think of things, at least. That's a very big lemon tart to get through first.'

She sliced off a huge forkful and lifted it to her lips. 'Have you forgotten just how much I can fit in my mouth if I want to, mon Amour?'

Harry snorted. 'If I had, I'm certainly thinking about it now.'

'Bon.' Fleur stuck the huge piece of tart in her mouth and flashed him a warm bright smile. 'Now—' she swallowed '—you have sworn this oath, what is next?'

'I probably have to spend a lot of time drawing a giant spiral of runes,' he said. 'And working out how to use shared intent to draw on everything that is sacrificed for it. It will take time to figure out how to make it all work.'

But it will work. I will make it work. A flash of pride filled him. No taking dreams away, just granting wishes. So Katie can have all of hers.

She shot him a sharp look, her irises darkening to midnight blue. 'You have spent a great deal of time drawing runes, looking in mirrors and chasing things already. You missed a lot of time with your bird-wife and your baby bird...'

Guilt bit deep; it ripped the words from his lips and left him reeling, left a little trembling hollow hovering upon his tongue. 'But I had to go, Fleur. If I hadn't gone, it would've all been taken away from us…'

Fleur's face softened and she ate the last piece of tart. 'There are not going to be any more little girls, mon Amour. Not from me. Not for us. We will never get the time we miss with Katie again. So you must not miss any, not for any reason.'

Not even for her? Or for you? Harry grappled with the tight tangle of hot, sharp thorns coiling around his heart. Not even if it makes sure it all worked for certain?

'Mon Coeur,' Fleur whispered, setting her fork down with a soft clink and cupping his cheek. 'Our little baby bird will need her maman and her papa, not some grand ritual or a better world. Our dream is here. It was always a small dream. Just for us. And for Gabby.'

He shoved the guilt down. 'When Katie wakes up, she will be my first and last thought. No matter what, mon Rêve. Je te le promets.'

When she wakes up, this all ends. Like I promised.

Fleur pressed a gentle kiss to his temple. 'It won't be long, mon Amour.' She passed him her plate and fork and threw back the covers.

Harry's gaze slipped to her bare breasts as she climbed over him.

'Malheureusement,' she murmured, pressing his wand back into his hand. 'I must go to Spain once again to restore the wards.'

'Unfortunately indeed.' He stuck his wand up his sleeve and set her plate down on the corner of her desk.

Fleur slipped on her underwear, pulling up her robes over the dark blue silk. 'Au revoir, mon Amour.' She tossed her silver hair over her shoulder and vanished.

'Au revoir,' Harry whispered.

A stillness settled on the room, thick, deep quiet, like the gloom of the cupboard beneath the stairs creeping closer around him in the small hours of the night.

'Gone again.' The words spilt from the hollow hanging in the eye of the stirring storm onto his tongue.

But not really gone. Harry took a deep breath. Just missing. And I have something important to do. Promises to keep.

He grabbed a piece of parchment from under the noses of Fleur and Gabby's smiling waving photo and charmed three lines down it with the tip of his wand. 'Runic intent. A way to use others' magic when their intent contributes to the sacrifice, but when they're unaware and not the one drawing the runes…' Harry scribbled in the first column. 'Maybe… maybe some kind of collective soul? Everyone dreaming the same dreams. One of many. An artificial soul created from everyone who contributes that is then the one that actually casts the ritual and pays the price?' He jotted it down.

And how to actually give magic to someone born without it? So there's no more them and us, only us. Harry frowned at the blank space in the second column. I suppose, like before, as long as I am careful about the exact ends and the sacrifice is enough, the means don't matter.

'And if I have those… I would just need to find a way to find the muggles and make sure it changes all of them eventually.' He drummed his fingers on his thigh and stared at the bright red rose in the sunlight. 'Shared purpose, I suppose. All those children wishing, one by one, until there is only one world left.'

Harry closed his eyes; dawn-bright light broke through his thoughts, spilling over a quiet, gentle world of green willow fronds, wildflowers and white pebbles.

AN: You know this bit. My profile is the place to go...