Fleur Delacour, a well known Veela has decided that she wants Harry Potter for herself. Hermione has other ideas.
All fiction is derivative and fan fiction doubly so. I make no claim to own any part of any of the following, all I have done is an attempt to put together the elements in a novel fashion, using words and ideas like Lego ™ bricks.
There is no money involved – all I do is to share what I do for my own amusement.
Fleur Delacour had a secret, the same secret that her family had kept for generations. Fleur was not in any way, shape or form a quarter veela, nor was her mother a half-veela. In fact, the last non-veela in the family was her great grandfather Charles Delacour.
Fleur had been too young to recognise the way her blood sang and her magic brightened when she had first met Harry Potter. She had, in fact, disliked him in that same childish way that humans disliked the opposite sex when they were eight. Just because they looked human didn't mean that veela matured at the same time as their non-avian counterparts did. No, they matured much later.
She had followed the news reports as the war proceeded. She had watched as people she had met, if superficially, fought and died.
Every time she saw the name Harry Potter her blood pounded and her magic tried to drag her off in pursuit. Once the war was over and things were quietening down, Fleur Michelle Nicole Sylvie Delacour went to stalk her prey … her mate.
There could be no other. Once her veela magic had chosen, the die was cast, and she would hunt down her mate and make him hers, or die in the process. There was no other way for a bird of prey.
It took her six months to finally track down the man who would be her mate. She cornered him and his current distraction, one Hermione Granger, in a small wizarding hamlet in the northernmost reaches of Scotland. At least she wouldn't have to fight one of her own kind in order to mate with the alpha male of her choice. No, she wouldn't need to ruffle her feathers at all since the mousy witch was just a human. Fleur knew that the girl would take one look at Fleur's magnificent avian form and be intimidated by the hooked, eagle beak and six-inch talons, and she would depart.
Of course, Fleur knew that she would have to defend her mate against all-comers once the other veela found out who she had won. They would try to take him from her, as was right, and any who defeated her would keep the little wizard. Of course, being a powerful veela, she would be able to hold on to him for many, many years.
Fleur confronted the duo.
"I 'ave come to claim my mate, ze wizard, 'Arry Potter."
The wizard and the witch exchanged a look that, had the veela not been so full of herself, she would have found disturbing.
"And who are you to try to lay claim to my betrothed?"
"I am Fleur Delacour, and I am a full-blood veela, and I claim my mate. If you fight for him you will die, little witch."
The brown-haired girl raised an eyebrow and glanced at her partner. He gave her an almost imperceptible nod of assent.
"You're pretty full of yourself, Fleur. You always were. You do owe Harry a life debt, too."
The French witch was becoming agitated. This was not how it was meant to go. Her temper began to rise and her blood to seethe.
"There's no point in getting upset. Harry is mine and I'm his, now please leave us alone."
There was a blaze of magic and Fleur transformed into a six-foot, yellow and brown raptor. She let out a blood-curdling shriek, a hunting cry that should have sent the girl-child scurrying for her cave and her flint-tipped spear. Instead the girl simply looked at the bird while wearing an expression of polite curiosity.
Fleur raised a wickedly clawed foot as though to disembowel the witch. Instead, there was a golden flare and the girl was replaced by a large, golden griffin.
A bellowed hunting cry and a short charge saw the veela beating the air hard and trying to gain altitude in an attempt to get far away from a woman who was actually further up the food chain than herself.