Welcome!

This is my take on the soul bond genre, done in a way that I think (hope) is unique. Most soul bond stories I've read have some kind of link between emotions and thoughts, or basically instant love with some token arguments/issues thrown in. I'm aiming to avoid the fairytale aspect of those stories and explore how two people would actually react in this situation, especially ones who already have their own issues/traumas to deal with.

It's written completely from Fleur's POV.

Hope you enjoy!

Fleur Delacour looked at the smiling faces surrounding her as if through a looking glass, unable to reconcile their happiness with her own state of detachment. They were in a great open hall, seats arranged in rows facing a wooden platform near the farthest wall from the entrance and with an aisle down the middle. Long tables laden with food and drinks were situated near the side walls, while the wedding cake had been placed on its own table by the main platform. Ron and Hermione had truly outdone themselves. No doubt Molly had had plenty of input.

It was still a few hours before the ceremony would begin, so the guests were milling around and mingling in any suitably open space they could find. She noticed Arthur and Molly in the corner, keeping an eye on things and talking with Charley and Bill. They were both beaming. A few feet away stood Neville and Hannah, speaking to a few other Hogwarts graduates she vaguely recognized from the year of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. She sighed and turned away, wondering if it would be too improper if she poured herself a drink so early. Most likely.

She was just about to do it anyway, consequences be damned, when a crash pierced the murmur of voices. Fleur flinched and whirled around, eyes wide and heart racing. She managed to stop herself from grasping her wand in her dress's pocket, but her breaths began to shorten and come out in shallow gasps. Come on Fleur, keep it together.

She tried desperately to remember the calming exercise her best friend had taught her for situations exactly like this, her face swimming fruitlessly across her mind. Something about sitting down and breathing. She tried to focus on her friend's voice, but it was too late. Each breath was too quick, she couldn't breathe.

The closest chair was a few meters away. Fleur stumbled towards it wildly. Were people staring at her? She couldn't tell, couldn't form a coherent thought. All she could hear was the sound of shattered glass ringing in her ears. No. Not again. Her allure was slipping out of her control, fluctuating violently. Those men were staring at her, but not just because of her strange behavior. Forget the chair, she needed to get out of this room, away from these people.

She tried to veer towards the exit, but her legs gave out at the sudden change in direction. Her hands managed to grab onto the edge of the chair and slow her fall, but her knees jarred on the hardwood floor. This seemed to be a signal for the thus far silent audience to converge on her, calling her name in worry, trying to help. "Fleur! What's wrong?!" That sounded vaguely like Bill.

But her allure was still spiraling, and it was too much. She tried to take deep breaths to no avail. All it did was reinforce the fact that she couldn't breathe. She squeezed her eyes shut against the voices and bodies around her, trying to ignore the terrible feeling of her allure latching onto those who were too close. And would that glass please stop shattering?! Suddenly a voice was right in front of her, instructing her to take a breath. What did the person think she'd been trying to do? "Fleur. Focus on my voice. Breathe, just breathe with me. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale." It wasn't helping and her allure began to focus on the new threat.

The voice hitched for a moment in response and her eyes snapped open. Harry? His face was a foot away, wild around the eyes and her own widened to match. He looked almost as panicked as she felt, and the allure couldn't be doing him any favors, but still he continued to speak. Her allure was completely focused on him now, no matter how hard she tried to rein it in.

"Fleur, you're here with me. You're safe, nothing is going to happen here. Focus on me. Good. Breathe." Slowly, it began to work. Her lungs stopped burning, her breathing evened out, and the glass shattering finally stopped echoing through her senses. Slumping in relief, Fleur finally retracted her allure safely back into herself. It didn't work.

She frowned and tried again. Once again, it refused to answer her call, like a thread caught on a hook that wood sooner break than come free. The panic threatened to come back, but she took a deep breath and let it out. A hand fell on her shoulder and Fleur looked up to find Harry looking at her in concern. He still looked rough around the edges, so she pulled herself together for his sake. "Thank you, Harry. Take your own advice and breathe." She copied his earlier words until his body gradually began to imitate her own slumped posture.

Taking his hand from her shoulder, Fleur stood, making sure she was steady enough not to fall before helping Harry stand as well. She smiled at him, glad he was well enough to return it. Then she turned and noticed that nearly the entire wedding was standing around them and staring in some combination of shock, confusion or sympathy.

Harry shifted uncomfortably beside her and she resisted the urge to do the same. "We'll… just be going now, then. Sorry." She almost snorted at the dismal attempt at escape, especially when Molly stepped from the crowd.

"Harry dear, are you alright? Fleur? You couldn't possibly be by yourselves after an episode like that. Here, come sit down and we'll get you some water and food. Ginny, grab a couple glasses, would you?" Ginny, who had taken a few steps towards Harry, hesitated before nodding and beginning to turn away.

Fleur spoke quickly to prevent the endless mothering that was sure to come. "We're fine, Molly. We don't need water. I think we just need some space." She glanced at Harry and he didn't disagree, so she continued. "Ginny, thank you but we'll grab something to drink on the way out." The girl – woman, she corrected herself – looked affronted, but then looked between Fleur and Harry and deflated.

Molly, never one to give up so easily, tried again. "Are you sure? It's really no trouble. You both look a bit peaky. Let me –"

"Mrs. Weasley, it's fine. We'll be fine. I'll go keep Fleur company for a bit outside. We'll be back before the ceremony starts." The Weasley matriarch and Harry looked at each other for a moment and there must have been some kind of silent communication, because she stepped aside to let them pass. Fleur wondered what she'd seen to change her mind.

Taking this as their chance, Fleur started toward the hall's exit with Harry beside her. She focused on placing one foot in front of the other, pausing only to let the crowd open for them. If anyone noticed her shaking, they were decent enough not to say anything. They reached the doors and Harry held the door open for her, ushering her into the clear sky and sunlight outside. It was early spring, so the temperature was too cold for comfort for her Veela preferences, but she still felt relief at leaving the smothering air inside.

The two walked in silence for a little while. He was clearly as unsure of what to say as she was. And her allure was still not behaving. It was grasping for Harry, but he didn't seem to be affected by it. In fact, it didn't seem like it was connected to him at all, but instead to… Fleur froze. Impossible. Mind racing, she frantically thought back to how it had felt when he had calmed her down. She'd thought her allure had attacked him as a threat, but that wasn't it at all. It had reached out towards him because something inside him had reached out first. Something more than his magic.

"Fleur, are you alright?" Harry's concerned voice brought her back to the present. This wasn't the time for those thoughts, so she nodded quickly. Too quickly, she realized, because he raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. "Well that makes one of us. Was it the glass breaking when someone bumped the table? 'Cause that's what did me in. I thought for sure I'd break down if I hadn't seen you beat me to it. So thanks, I guess. At least one person is more messed up than me." He shot her a smirk that almost looked real and nudged her shoulder, clearly leaving an opening for her to talk about what had just happened if she wanted.

She rolled her eyes instead, fixing him with an unimpressed look as they walked along the yard towards the Burrow. The wedding hall had been erected outside the old house for the occasion. "Your skills at comforting could use some improvement, Harry." He winced, and she almost laughed at his expression. Quickly, she squashed any signs of mirth before he noticed. "And I'll have you know that I am best at everything I do. If I am 'messed up', as you put it, then of course my break downs are bigger and better than anyone else's. Even Harry Potter's." Here she gave him her most haughty expression, chin lifted, and continued walking even after Harry had frozen.

She counted two steps before turning around. The look of absolute disbelief he showed finally broke her façade and a laugh escaped before she could stop it. His face morphed into one of confusion, then cleared as realization set in. He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it slightly, and let out a huff of amusement. "I deserved that, didn't I?" Fleur couldn't help but notice that happiness was a good look for the boy-turned-man, and one she hadn't often seen on him.

She smiled back at him. "Yes, you did." They started walking again, this time in a comfortable silence until they reached the entrance to The Burrow.

They let themselves in since everyone was at the pre-wedding ceremony gathering, then she drew her wand and with a few flicks had two glasses of water floating into the sitting room where they stood. Harry gratefully accepted his with a nod, sitting down on the nearest couch and taking a few sips. She joined him, placing the glass on the round table in the center of the room between the many couches and chairs.

The silence became less comfortable, dragged down by heavy topics left unacknowledged. The Weasley family clock ticked steadily, until finally the silence became unbearable. "Harry, what you did back there was…" Shattering glass flashed through her mind and her breath caught. She briefly considered lying and saying she was fine, that her panic attack had been a fluke, but they both knew it wasn't true. "I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't been there." Harry turned towards her at the soft words, gaze unreadable.

Fleur searched for any sign of pity or judgement at how broken she must appear, and something within her unclenched when she found none. She was grateful for that, but this was not the person she remembered saying goodbye to all those years ago before the end of the war. Harry had been an open book then, and she worried about what had changed to make him so guarded and fragile. To make him so like her.

"There's nothing to thank me for. I should be thanking you. I was serious when I said I almost broke down myself. You must have seen." He took another sip of water, holding the glass like a shield between them. "It was nothing, we're even. Besides, us Tri-wizard champions have to stick together. Merlin, it's mental what we had to do in that tournament. Bloody dragons." He shook his head in mock irritation, making her grin.

The subject change was hardly subtle, but she let it go. After all, she wasn't exactly eager to talk about her own emotional traumas. Plus, it felt nice to joke about the tournament with someone who understood and had been there. It was obvious they were both using humor to avoid something painful.

"If I remember correctly, Harry, it was only your dragon that managed to break free and chase you halfway across Hogwart's grounds. I admit, it was quite the sight. Only you could have managed to make a fight with a dragon even more dangerous than it already was. And with just a broom, no less!" Struck by inspiration at the memory and always keen to do magic, she drew her wand and transfigured a few knickknacks lying on the table into a Hungarian Horntail and a vaguely Harry-shaped figure on a broom.

Fleur concentrated and with another gesture animated the dragon to flap into the air and the miniature Harry to lift off, flying away from the scaled down creature. To round it out, she gave Harry's double a ridiculous expression of terror when it turned its head back towards the dragon every couple of seconds. She directed it to fly around the real Harry's head, relishing in the experience using her skills for something so innocent.

The target of her re-creation had straightened, his eyes lighting up at the frivolous use of magic, thoroughly distracted from their earlier, depressing topic of discussion. "No, no, no, you're remembering it all wrong. I always thought I was more of a dashing knight saving the princess." With a wide grin, he raised his own wand, paused, then began his own set of additions to the scene.

The broom riding figure distorted as silver armor grew from its surface, helmet and all. Another flick of his wand and the now knighted Harry was holding up a tiny sword in a motion that could only mean, "Charge!". Fleur leaned in, curious to see what he would change next.

A moment later, a small breath of fire leapt from the dragon's mouth and she smiled in appreciation. The knight rushed through it, sword held aloft, and stabbed at the beast's scales ineffectually before finding purchase through the roof of its mouth. It was a little gruesome for the otherwise playful scene, if she was honest, but she supposed there wasn't any nice way to slay a monster with a sword. The reenactment ended with the dragon falling dramatically onto the table with a thud, the knight landing next to it and posing heroically. "There. Much better." Harry nodded his head in satisfaction.

She looked at the display in front of them, then looked back up at Harry. "Oh, Harry," she said sadly. "I believe you are delusional." He snorted.

"I don't know what you mean, that was completely historically accurate." He gestured towards the armored Harry for emphasis. They locked eyes and then both burst out laughing, basking in the suddenly light atmosphere after the past minutes. I think we both needed this. She certainly had. It had been a long time since she had been able to relax and simply forget.

It was at this moment that they heard a cough, bringing them both to attention, though their smiles seemed stuck to their faces. Neville was standing in the doorway, clearly unsure of what to make of the spectacle in front of them. He was eyeing the dead dragon and knight on the table skeptically. "Er, the ceremony is going to start soon. I was sent to fetch you two and check if you were alright." His eyebrows rose and his lips quirked, gaze flickering between them. "I'd say you both look alright to me." And then he left, apparently not needing or wanting an explanation.

Fleur and Harry glanced at each other somewhat sheepishly and then began the process of cleaning up their mess. Props were returned to their original forms, while water glasses were cleaned and returned to the kitchen cabinet they had come from. Once done, they exited The Burrow and walked side by side back to the newly erected hall. The prospect of joining all the guests began to dampen her joy as they got closer, imagining how the guests would whisper behind their hands, but she was comforted knowing that Harry would be there, even if he was the Best Man and wouldn't be in the audience with her.

Reaching the doors to the large shelter, Fleur stopped next to Harry. "Thank you again for the company, Harry." She hesitated, unsure if she should say anything more, but the thoughts she'd been avoiding about her allure's strange behavior earlier pushed her on. "I know we have not seen each other much since… everything, but I would not be opposed to seeing you more often." She cringed internally. That had sounded cold and distant, even to her own ears.

But he just smiled and nodded, though she wasn't sure if she imagined the flash of unease in his eyes or the sudden tension in his stance. "You know where to owl me. See you later, Fleur," he said and then slipped inside. Immediately, he was swept away by Ron's elder brothers, no doubt to prepare for their wedding responsibilities, and had just enough time to give her one last wave before disappearing into a larger group, presumably of close friends and family to Ron and Hermione.

Suddenly alone again, she glanced around and decided to find a seat in favor of entering one of the ongoing conversations around her. Seeing Neville and Hannah seated near the front, she made her way over and began speaking with the couple about unimportant things. Whenever she began to feel confined or the sound of glass clinking reached her, she'd remember Harry's voice next to her, calming, or the easy way he'd made her laugh and feel normal in The Burrow, and then she would feel, if not fine, then better.

Eventually, everyone was urged to take their seats and the ceremony finally commenced. It was beautiful and heartwarming. Hermione was radiant in a light blue dress that accentuated her features, hair curled to fall deliberately around her shoulders. Ron, in classic dark dress robes, looked absolutely smitten with her and Fleur couldn't blame him. She didn't think she had ever seen two people look so happy with each other. Meanwhile, Harry stood to the side, out of the way, with a fond smile for his two oldest friends. She didn't want to admit that she spent more time looking at him than the soon to be newlyweds. He cleaned up nicely.

However, throughout it all, the thoughts she was trying to bury kept bubbling to the surface until she wasn't paying attention the wedding at all. The allure she had gotten so used to keeping under control had changed. She had barely been paying it any attention, but it hadn't spread out to affect the guests around her. It wasn't gone, just… different. As if it was no longer constantly searching for a target. As if it no longer needed to, because it had found what it was looking for. Afraid she knew why, she glanced at Harry again and foreboding made her insides twist.

When Harry had sat in front of her and soothed her panic, she had lost absolutely all control over her allure. It hadn't begun to focus on him by chance, he had reached out a part of himself and connected with it in order to protect both her and her unknowing victims. And that… that should have been impossible. She was sure of it.

A Veela's allure was more than a magical ability, it was an extension of her very soul, a fact that Veela guarded very seriously for fear that they would be persecuted even more if wizards knew they were being subjected to subconscious soul magic. Soul magics had a dangerous stigma attached to them. Rightly so, she thought. She shuddered to think what would happen if it ever became common knowledge and her wonder at the connection hardened as she was reminded of how precarious the situation was.

No. She had to be careful. She couldn't afford to blunder her way through without any thought for the consequences. Both personal and wider reaching. She squeezed her eyes shut and breathed deeply, ignoring the drone of the wedding officiator on the platform. Only one thing could have affected her allure, and that was a foreign soul. Harry's soul. In trying to help her, he had accidentally formed a bond that could not be undone.

It wasn't the instant mingling of mind and body that that countless silly myths and fairytales portrayed. Fleur almost sneered at the ridiculousness. Soul mates, indeed. It wasn't that happily-ever-after, but it was a start. And it was powerful. She could not simply drop it on him and expect him to react well, especially when she herself was barely holding it together.

It removed her choices as much as it did his, and she had spent her entire life fighting for the right to make those choices. She pushed down the ugly emotions taking shape inside her. Those feelings were not helpful. It was an accident, she reminded herself. Neither Harry nor herself were at fault and nothing could be done now. Better to take a step back before doing anything rash.

Repeating that in her mind periodically, Fleur focused on the wedding again. Harry had just given the ring to Ron, along with a few quietly spoken words that she wasn't able to catch. Despite her own emotions, looking at him now, joy and pride written in practically every line of his body, Fleur couldn't help but think that maybe sharing part of herself and life with him wouldn't be so bad after all.