Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on the Harry Potter universe. All recognizable characters, plots, and settings are the exclusive property of J.K. Rowling and her various corporate partners. I make no claim to ownership nor do I make any profit.

An Enchanted Evening

By Luq707

Dedicated to all people who are experiencing difficulties in their lives.

Remember, the darkest hour of the night comes just before dawn.

Harry shivered as he walked to No. 12 Grimmauld Place. It was a cold November night, and he was returning to his house after his trip to South Africa. Working as a civil rights lawyer for the International Confederation of Wizards was a demanding, yet rewarding, profession

Through his occupation, he was able to meet numerous people from diverse backgrounds. Listening to their stories—whether they be of inequality or injustice, or even their lives as a whole—was truly a humbling experience and something that Harry wouldn't trade for the world.

It also helped that his wife also worked as a civil rights lawyer for the ICW.

Unlocking the door to the house, Harry stepped inside. The interior had long since been redecorated, and while the original character of the house was maintained, it was a brighter place.

The elf heads had been taken down and placed in the house elves' quarters. The painting of Walburga Black was dismantled (how they managed it, Harry still had no clue) and was replaced with a painting of Harry's grandparents. And the entire house was stripped down and given a thorough cleansing.

Removing his coat and hat, Winky appeared before him. Kreacher died some years before and Winky had never fully recovered from being released from Barty Crouch Sr., as well as Dobby's death. So, he reluctantly took her on as his house elf.

'Mistress be sleeping, Mr Harry', she spoke softly, bowing. Despite his best efforts, he could never quite convince her to simply refer to him as 'Harry'.

'Thank you, Winky', he responded. 'I'll be going up now. Get some rest'.

Winky bowed, then popped away.

The dimly lit gaslights permeated the house as he made his way upstairs. As he approached the landing to his room, the lights slowly turned off. 'Probably Winky closing up', he thought absentmindedly.

The door was closed. Gently opening it, he saw his wife—Fleur Delacour-Potter—sleeping on the bed. His side of the bed, upon closer observation. The room was lit by a feeble candle on its last vestiges of life.

'She must have tried to stay up for me'. Gazing her sleeping figure in fondness, he changed into his nightclothes and softly blew out the candle. Kissing Fleur on the brow, he snuggled next to her under the covers.

Fleur lightly stirred, before returning into her deep slumber. 'I must be the luckiest man in the world', Harry thought, as he fell into the realm of Morpheus.

Fleur opened her eyes. The room was bright. Probably because Winky had opened the curtains already. She felt someone's arms around her. Slowly turning around, she saw her husband's peaceful face. He always looked younger in his sleep.

Smiling contently, she turned around and pretended to sleep until Harry woke up.

Fifteen minutes had passed, and Harry woke up. Raising his head, he noticed Fleur… pretending to be asleep.

Smiling to himself, he sneaked down and brushed his mouth against the nape of her neck.

Fleur squirmed and opened her eyes. 'It's not fair you can tell when I'm awake'. Her light French accent was filled with feelings of playful indignation. Harry responded by kissing her again. This time on the back of her jawline.

Fleur turned to face him. His green eyes sparkled with joy and love for her. He kissed her a third time—on the nose.

'Someone's on the wrong side of the bed', he teased good-naturedly.

Fleur rolled her eyes and tapped him affectionately on the nose. 'Someone was gone for too long'.

'It was only a week and you talked to me every day', he retorted.

Fleur kissed him. 'I missed you, mon chéri'.

Harry smiled. 'I missed you too, flower'.

Sometime later, Harry and Fleur emerged from the bedroom. Harry went off to the bathroom while Fleur performed basic freshening charms and walked to the kitchen.

After explaining to Winky that she intended to make breakfast—much to Winky's chagrin—Fleur began to prepare the tea. Leaving the kettle to boil, she walked through the house, ensuring that everything was in order.

Her eyes fell upon the picture frames on the mantle. There was Harry and her in Geneva and another image from their wedding. Then, there was an image of Bill standing next to her in the kitchen of Shell Cottage.

Her eyes softened as she softly walked to the picture and picked it up.

The injuries that Bill sustained from Greyback were more deadly than previously realized. In conjunction with the stress from the war, Bill passed away from a heart attack not six months after the Battle of Hogwarts.

She was a mess after that. She quit her job at Gringotts and moved back to France. She simply could not stand to be in a place that reminded her so much of her late husband. It had taken the combined efforts of her mother, father, and sister to bring her out of her shell.

She had always been passionate about rights for disenfranchised members of the magical community—Veela, vampires, werewolves, etc. Her family capitalized on that and persuaded her to turn her grief into passion, resulting in her involvement with the ICW forthwith.

She softly placed it down and turned to the photo of her with Harry in Geneva.

Harry dropped out of the Auror program. Simply put, he did not enjoy it as much as he thought he would. His friend, Hermione Granger, recommended working for the ICW. He had always maintained a strong sense of justice, and becoming a civil rights attorney was right up his alley.

He had been paired with her for his first assignment; it was only her second. They worked well together, and eventually, one thing led to another and she married again—five years after Bill had passed away.

As for Harry and Ginny, there wasn't really much to be said about it. Both had tried and failed to make it work. They parted amicably and still maintained contact.

Hearing the kettle whistle, Fleur rushed to the kitchen and removed the kettle from the stove. She then proceeded to crack an egg and scramble it.

At this point, Harry walked into the room. Kissing her on the cheek, he said, 'No Winky today?'

'Can't I make breakfast for my husband?' She raised an eyebrow inquisitively, almost daring him to disagree.

'Of course', he responded neutrally. 'It's rather irregular, was all. And I'm sure that Winky wasn't incredibly pleased'.

Typically, if Winky didn't do the cooking, Harry did. Fleur rarely cooked. It wasn't that she couldn't, but she simply had no interest in doing so and Harry had no objection to cooking once in a while.

'Non, she wasn't, but let me treat you, darling', she said. Her French accent was more prominent now.

'You're a wonder, Mrs Potter', Harry replied, emphasizing his British accent.

'And you need to take a seat at the table, Monsieur Potter', Fleur replied.

Harry kissed the side of her mouth and acquiesced to his wife's demands.

After concluding their breakfast and other morning business, Harry and Fleur decided to go for a walk through the neighbourhood. Brown leaves littered the sidewalk and the air was crisp, fogging their breaths. Harry and Fleur acknowledged the various passerby and talked about any number of mundane things, enjoying each other's company.

Around the corner, they noticed an older gentleman playing the harmonica. He was huddled together and wrapped in newspapers to stay warm. Harry rifled through his pockets until he found some spare Muggle change.

Approaching the man, he said, 'It's not much, but it's all I've got'. He dropped it in the small jar at the man's side and smiled at him.

The man offered a toothless grin and played a tune.

If 'tune' was the right way to put it.

Rather, it was a poignant melody that instilled feelings of sadness, yet also instilled feelings of happiness within the couple. After a minute or so, the melody came to an end.

Harry could barely speak after the beautiful piece. Fleur spoke, 'That was beautiful. Thank you'.

The man tipped his hat, and the couple continued their walk.

After they had attained some distance, Fleur said, 'That was a nice thing to do.'

Harry hummed. 'I met a man similar to him in South Africa. It was only right'.

Fleur kissed him on the cheek as the pair continued to stroll about the neighbourhood.

The fire glowed brightly in the light of the study. Husband and wife were enjoying quiet moments of reflection and peace. Fleur leaned against Harry on the loveseat, as he read softly to her.

After he concluded the chapter, Fleur rose from his side and turned on the record.

The soft sounds of Vivaldi's Spring permeated through the room. She turned to him and held out her hand questioningly.

Harry took it and waltzed slowly with her around the room.

Fleur gazed up at him questioningly. 'Are you happy to be home?'

Harry kissed her on the brow. 'Of course, darling. Why?'

Fleur hummed noncommittedly. 'Just making sure.'

Harry snorted and kissed her once more—on the lips, this time.

'Does that prove it?'

Fleur smiled and kissed him, giving him her response.

During the final notes of the piece, Fleur leaned up and whispered something in his ear.

He looked at her in shock. He couldn't believe it.

His chest soared with euphoria and joy as he pulled his wife into a searing kiss.

Truly, it was an enchanted evening.

Author's Endnote:

What made Harry so happy, I will leave my readers to infer.

I would like to address this now before the inevitable host of questions I will receive about it: this was written in British English. In addition, I have followed British formatting rules. This means that for dialogue, I have used single quotes, and for full stops within dialogue, I have placed them outside of the quotes. These aren't my rules. I just follow them.

This oneshot was written for all people who are going through difficulties at the time. I hope that this will boost your spirits and brighten your days. If this occurs, then I will have succeeded in my task. In addition, I would like to thank and applaud the Flowerpot Discord Server for initiating this project. The blind compassion of people all around the world continues to amaze me. If you are interested in joining the Flowerpot Discord, then please see my profile.

As for my other works, unfortunately, I have been delayed because of family and other personal matters. I know this is no excuse, and I truly thank you for your patience this past month. Hopefully, I will be able to publish something soon.

Thank you for reading. Please review.

All the best,