Love and Monster Ch. 1 (Patreon)

Back a few weeks ago when I did that 'What I'm working on' thing, I mentioned a monster girls story. 

At that point, I had like 15k words written. Then, I hit a wall and kept bashing my head up against it until I realized it just wasn't going to work. 

This is my reconceptualization of the idea, and here's the thing, I have not written a single word past the last word of this chapter. I have a lot of big ideas for this story, but the connective tissue isn't there yet. I'm posting this chapter here as a way to sort of force myself to stay the course with the direction I decided upon.

So, here's chapter one, let me know what you guys think of it. 

October 13, 1987

It was interesting how the same image could garner such wildly different reactions.

Neville, for example, was clenching his fists and baring his teeth as he simmered in a boiling rage. As he stared at his parent's gravestones, he worked himself into more and more of a frenzy. Harry knew that it would take the rest of the day for the boy to calm down. He hoped that Draco didn't try to poke at him when they returned to class, but he knew the blonde boy drew too much amusement from it not to partake.

Theo, meanwhile, was staring at his father's grave with a more quiet fury, though Harry suspected that Theo was like him, and he was only performing to appease Schoolady Umbridge.

Harry couldn't even be bothered to do that. A few years ago, when he'd been five, he'd had the same boiling rage as Neville when he stared at his parent's gravesites. The few photographs that he'd seen of them would roll around in his head, his mother's beautiful auburn hair and his father's mischievous grin. He'd spiral downwards as he thought back to when he'd first been told the grisly details of his parents demise.

'They wrung your father's neck until it was back facing forward.'

'There was nothing left of your mother but a pile of ashes.'

Harry would bury his nails into the flesh of his palms until they broke the skin and drew blood. He would let the blood trickle down onto the soil where his father lay buried as he fought back tears of impotent rage.

That had been when he was five. Now, he was seven, and he'd been forced to repeat this ritual at least once a week for the past two years.

For many of the other boys, it had reinforced their beliefs, entrenched their righteous anger. For Harry, it had exposed the entire thing for the theater that it was.

As the years went by, he found that his fury over his parents death ebbed away. He's never known them, and he never would. And he began to recognize what the school lady and by extension the ministry were doing: indoctrination.

The other kids didn't see it. But Harry did, and the more he looked the more blatant it became.

Dark, ominous clouds rumbled overhead, promising more than just rain as they inched closer to the cemetery.

"Alright, children, that'll be enough reflection time this week. Let's return to the classroom." Umbridge said in that sickly sweet tone that drove Harry up a wall.

"Yes Miss Umbridge." The children chorused. They made a single file line. Harry ended up behind Theo and in front of Hannah.

They made their way through the cemetery, passing by gravestones in different stages of care and different levels grandeur. Harry was thankful that Draco wasn't a part of 'reflection time', since he was sure the blonde boy would boast about his great-grandfather's mausoleum, which towered over most of the smaller graves surrounding it.

The schoolhouse was right next to the cemetery, which meant it only took them a few minutes to return to their classroom, where the other kids sat quietly, hands clasped respectfully in front of them.

They'd probably been causing a ruckus just minutes before, but the moment the lookout saw them return, they all scrambled to return to their seats.

Harry's desk was in the back left corner, with Theo in front of him and Neville to his right.

Miss Umbridge launched immediately into their next lesson, and the one Harry dreaded the most: History.

It was always the same stuff. They talked about great wizards throughout history like Merlin, Alphard or the three founders. They talked about the great achievements of wizardkind.

And then they talked about the war.

"Now, who can tell me when the Great War finally ended?"

A few hands shot up, but Harry must have been doing a terrible job of pretending to pay attention, because Umbridge singled him out.

"Mr. Potter, do you know the answer?" There was a slight bite to her tone when she directed the question at him. She knew he wasn't engaging like the other children, or swallowing the propaganda, either way, she'd grown to dislike him.

Harry hated the fact that he'd have to deal with her until her turned eleven.

"November fifth, 1981." Harry parroted, the date engraved so deeply into his brain he could visualize it written out above Miss Umbridge's head.

Umbridge's mouth formed a thin line on her toad-like face. "Is that how you're supposed to answer a question, Mr. Potter?"

Draco, Theo and Blaise snickered as Harry fought the urge to roll his eyes.

"November fifth, 1981, Miss Umbridge."

Her lips curled up into a pleased smile. "Good job."

Neville's hand shot up, an eager look on his face.

"Yes, Mr. Longbottom?"

"Miss Umbridge, why did the war end? Why did the monsters not get punished for what they did?"

There was a low murmur as the kids muttered several choice words under their breaths.

Umbridge cleared her throat and the children quickly fell into silence. "Mr. Longbottom, remember, we're in peacetime, the correct term is 'creatures' " The way she said the word let the children know exactly what their teacher thought of that 'kinder' term, even though Harry didn't really consider it that much kinder.

"Now, while it is true that the creatures went unpunished for the massacre on All Hallow's Eve, we must remember that we are not like them. While they live only to satisfy their baser urges, we are more complex beings. We have compassion, a willingness to forgive. To a fault, perhaps." Umbridge frowned,  "The war had taken so many already, our leaders at the time, Headmaster Dumbledore chief among them, felt like a truce was the only way to avoid further bloodshed. Regardless of what opinions we may hold, those are the facts."

Another hand shot up, this time Tracey's.

"Yes, Miss Davis?"

"W-What if they attack again? What if there's another war?"

Umbridge shook her head. "The creatures live in their own space. They know better than to step foot in wizarding spaces. And if they ever do, well… we'll show them that our kindness has its limits."

Harry tuned out the rest of the class. Umbridge didn't call on him again, and after what felt like an eternity, the bell rang, signaling the end of the school day.

"Father got me the new Cleansweep, Wanna go check it out?" Blaise asked as they made their way out into the front yard.

Harry shook his head. "I have to help Rosie out around the pub, sorry."

Blaise didn't respond. They both knew Rosmerta would allow Harry to go over to Blaise's house if he asked. No, Harry was simply not in the mood to play, as much as he enjoyed flying. He needed to busy himself for a few hours helping scrub pans and making shepherd's pie.

As always, parents were waiting outside the gates of the schoolhouse. Draco's mother, a brunette woman who had once been a Warrington, awaited him as always dressed in the finest of robes.

Mrs. Zabini, Mrs. Finnegan, Hannah's widowed mother, al of them waited for their children.

Neville's grandmother picked him up with her distinctive vulture hat. Theo was picked up by his uncle, who was Lord Regent until Theo came of age.

Everyone had someone to pick them up, all except Harry.

Harry had had no one. His grandparents had passed before his parents had. He had a muggle aunt, but the Ministry would never allow one of the children left orphaned by All Hallow's Eve to be sent to live with muggles.

That didn't mean they were able to find a family that would take him in. The Potters weren't prominent enough for the richer families to see any benefit in housing him.

Harry became a ward of the state, and in the end, Madame Rosmerta, the proprietor and barmaid of The Three Broomsticks, took him in and raised him.

The Three Broomsticks was only two streets away from the schoolhouse, which was very convenient for Harry.

The bell jingled as Harry pushed the door open. It was the lunchtime rush, and Rosmerta was busy.

Even then, when she saw him enter, she cracked a smile while carrying three plates to table four. "Harry! How was your day?"

"It was alright." The young boy said as he went behind the bar and stashed his school bag.

Rosmerta finished serving the table, animating a tankard with a flick of her wand, which floated over to the table and topped off the three men's butterbeer.

"You're a dear, Rosie." One of the men held his mug up and Rosmerta smiled before making her way over to Harry, who was already putting on an apron.

"You can take a break, you know? I know school must have been tiring. Go take a nap and come down later."

Harry shook his head. "This is rush hour, Rosie. I can take a break when all these people leave."

Rosmerta frowned, tapping her finger on the counter before deciding it was best to drop the matter.

At seven, Harry was already the most hard-headed person she'd ever met, there was no way to change his mind once he'd made it up.

"Alright, but don't overwork yourself. These schlubs can afford to wait a bit longer for their bangers and mash."

It was ten in the evening when the pub closed, as it always did. Rosmerta still nominally rented out rooms upstairs, but in practice, people didn't rent out rooms anymore unless it was the night before Hogwarts graduation.

Harry and Rosmerta lay in bed. They'd both showered and put on their nightclothes. Rosmerta was on her side, spooning young Harry while she ran her hands through his messy hair.

Harry loved this. He always felt the most secure when he was enveloped in the older woman's arms. Rosmerta was not his biological mother, but she was Harry’s parent in every way that mattered.

“We had reflection time today.” He whispered into the air as Rosie stroked circles over his messy locks.

He could almost feel Rosmerta’s frown behind him as she paused slightly, “Yeah, how did it go?”

Harry shrugged. “The same.”

“You know, Harry, it's perfectly normal to feel the way you do.”

It had taken Harry so much effort to confess to Rosie what he felt. How he could no longer muster much of anything emotionally over his parents, how when he heard the word mother, he thought of her, not of Lily Potter. It had made him feel guilty, made him feel like a bad son.

Rosie had soothed him then, and promised him that what he’d felt was a normal reaction to never having known your parents. From that moment on, she would tell him stories about them from back in their school days. Harry appreciated the effort, though it didn’t really do much to make him feel more connected to them.

To him, his parents were a distant illusion. Rosmerta was there, and she’d taken care of him as far back as he could remember.

There was a companionable silence where Rosmerta continued to soothe Harry, and as the boy drifted off to sleep, he thought back to another time, two years ago, when he’d had the most enlightening discussion of his young life on this very bed.

…

“Rosie… are… are the creatures really as bad as they say?”

Rosmerta pulled him closer, and Harry giggled as he sank into her heavy bosom, wiggling about to get more comfortable in her embrace.

“People fear the unknown, Harry. They’re afraid of anything or anyone that’s different, and so they demonize them. I dealt with many magical creatures before the war broke out, they were decent, hard working folk, just like us.”

“But what about all the stuff they did during the war? Miss Umbridge keeps talking about all the bad stuff they did. They… they killed my parents, didn’t they?”

Rosie sighed, “Harry, a very bad, very evil person killed your parents. You should never judge an entire group on the basis of a single individual. Understood?”

Harry nodded against her bosom and it was Rosmerta’s turn to giggle lightly.

“Harry, the ministry will not tell you this, but I lived through the war, I witnessed it. Both sides did many terrible things, regrettable things. But in the end, Magical Creatures want what everyone else wants, they want survival, and they want dignity.”

Harry had been five, so many of Rosmerta’s words had gone over his head. But the core of what she was saying did manage to sink in. From that point on, Harry’s belief in what he was being fed by Miss Umbridge began to erode.

…

July 13, 1988

It was a bright summer's day, the sun hanging high overhead.

Scottish summers were mild, at best, but Harry liked it that way. He like the hint of cold that still hung in the air as he made his way over to the vast empty field where the boys had said they'd be flying their brooms.

Harry's own broom was slung over his shoulder. It was an old Cleansweep Five, but it more than did the trick. He doubted there'd be enough of them to field seven a side, so they were probably going to be doing chasers vs chasers. Harry's preferred position had always been seeker, and he was leaning towards being a beater now that he'd started to fill out thanks to his workout regiment and the constant, hearty meals he ate with Rosie.

Harry didn't love being a chaser, but he was the best flyer among them, so he was confident he'd be one of the captains, unless they'd gotten started without him.

He was following along the edges of the Hogwarts castle grounds. The magnificent castle was always a sight to behold. Even though it had always loomed over the background his entire life, it never lost its luster.

Harry had never been inside. He'd really wanted to, but all the adults were adamant in their refusal to let any of the children into the castle before their time. Rosie said that they wanted to protect that wondrous moment when you walked into the castle for the first time, surrounded by your fellow firsties.

Harry thought it was stupid.

He finally reached the edge of the castle grounds, right after the groundskeeper's hut, delineated by a bright green line that hovered just above the ground, letting off a constant, soft thrumming that Harry swore he could sometimes hear when lying in bed.

At the edge of the grounds there was a vast, empty plain that sat just outside of the castle wards. There were a few trees and shrubs scattered about, but for the most part, it was flat grassland as far as the eye could see.

Old Mr. Yaxley, one of the many elderly patrons that frequented The Three Broomsticks, more in search of conversation than a drink, told him that there had once been a forest there, centuries ago.

Harry wasn't sure if he believed that. To think that there had once been a forest where there was now just vast emptiness.

He saw the boys huddled around one of the few trees in the plain. It was a strong oak tree, one which he still remembered climbing for the first time back when he'd been six. He'd been terrified of coming down then, and in one of his first bouts of accidental magic, he'd floated down like a leaf after slipping on a branch.

He could make out Blaise, Draco, Neville and Theo, as well as an older boy, most likely Marcus Flint based off of his hulking shoulders.

Harry didn't like Flint, he was a bit of a bully who still liked to mess with the younger kids even though he was a few months away from going off to Hogwarts.

As he drew nearer, he could hear taunts, jeers and laughs as the boys were all playing around with something.

Harry sighed, he hoped it wasn't some poor squirrel or rabbit that they were fucking around with.

As the boys shifted around, he caught a glimpse of a fluffy white tail. Far too big for it to be a rabbit.

"You should have never come out here, you damn monster!" Flint spat.

"Fucking creature. I bet you thought you'd catch us off-guard? Well now we've got you." Draco sneered.

Harry could see Neville's face, and there was pure hatred written across it. Theo and Blaise didn't seem as agitated as the others, but they were clearly not about to move a muscle to stop whatever was going on.

Harry didn't know when he'd broken into a sprint, but by the time he'd realized that his body had been moving, he was already bumping off Marcus and entering the circle.

There was a young girl, right around his age. She had a few bruises, including a busted up lip, but she didn't look that much worse off for wear.

She did look terrified, though, and as she saw Harry approach, she bared her teeth at him, which sported oversized canines, and hissed as she held up her right hand, which had small but razor sharp claws.

Harry stood his ground as he took her in.

Her long, flowing tail was covered in snow-white fur that shimmered like freshly fallen snow under the glare of the sun. Her delicate, pointed ears were tipped with silver, and they were currently pinned back, almost disappearing into the long, cascading mane of her frosty-white hair that reached down to her back.

Her eyes were a striking shade of violet, and harry couldn't help but think that she looked rather pretty. More than pretty, in fact.

He felt a tug as Marcus pulled at his arm. "Get back, Potter, we were here first. Don't jump the line."

Harry spun around, and to the utter shock of the other boys, he slammed his fists directly onto Marcus' nose.

Marcus fell onto his ass, looking up at Harry in shock as his hands went to his bleeding nose.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Harry?" Draco yelled.

Harry backed up into the girl, ignoring the sharp pain as nails dug into his back through his shirt. He glanced over his shoulder, where the terrified girl was still baring her teeth.

"Are you alright?"

She was taken aback by his question. Instead of answering, she shrunk further back into herself, though Harry did feel her claws pull back from his body.

"Harry." Neville's mouth was hanging open in disbelief. "Are you protecting the monster?"

"What makes her a monster, Neville? What did she do to you?"

"What did she do to me? Are you serious? After what her kind did to my parents? To yours?" The sandy-haired boy hissed, his voice full of venom.

"Harry." Blaise said in a measured tone. "Maybe think about what you're doing a bit."

Harry glared over at the dark-skinned boy. "I know exactly what I'm doing. What are you guys doing?"

Marcus had stood up, and he made a move towards Harry. Harry snapped his head towards him and with a surge of energy, he sent the boy flying back over ten feet.

The other boys tensed up.

None of them had wands. None of them had been taught how to use magic.

And yet, somehow, Harry had been able to deliberately use his.

Draco took a tentative step forward, unsure on if Harry had just had a very fortuitous bout of accidental magic or if he actually was able to use wandless magic.

Harry, who had never done something like that before, wasn't sure either. He was hoping dearly for the latter as he tried to make sure none of the other boys snuck up on him.

Draco took a step back, deciding not to risk it.

"You're going to be in deep shit, you traitor. Come on, boys, lets go find some grownups in the village."

The other boys followed Draco's lead, and soon they were all sprinting off on their way back to Hogsmeade.

Harry let out a breath as the other boys dissapeared off into the distance.

He turned back to face the girl, who was still looking up at him with trepidation, slowly backing away from him as she got back onto her feet.

"Are you ok?" Harry asked once more.

He wondered if they even spoke the same language.

"Why'd you help me, wizard?" She spat. Her ears had perked up now, and they were whirling all over, searching for sounds of footsteps.

"They were going to hurt you." Harry said simply. "What's your name?"

Her eyes narrowed. "My name is Vulpecula Black, heiress to the Black family name."

Harry stuck his hand out. "Hi, Vulpecula, I'm Harry, Harry Potter."

Vulpecula stared at his hand as if it were a dangerous weapon.

"I thought all wizards hated us." She said suspiciously.

"A lot of us are narrow minded gits." Harry said, parroting a term that Rosie always used. "But not all of us."

A silence stretched on as a soft breeze whistled around them. The blades of grass danced at their feet as Vulpecula's snow white fur ruffled in the wind.

Harry dropped his hand.

"How'd you end up here?" Harry asked.

Vulpecula frowned. "I'm not sure. I was playing in the forest. I went into a tree trunk, and then I ended up out here."

Harry glanced at the tree only a few meters away from them, "Was it that tree?"

The kitsune nodded, "I tried going back into it, but nothing happened." Her eyes looked off into the direction where the other boys had run off to. "Those boys, they're going to get adult wizards, aren't they?"

Harry frowned. Whatever he had done to protect her earlier, he was sure it wouldn't work against grownups.

Then, he noticed something.

The other boy's brooms were all piled up together on the grass nearby. in their haste to return to town, they'd left their brooms behind.

Even at a sprint, it would take them at least twenty minutes to make it back to Hogsmeade.

Harry didn't allow himself time to question the idea that suddenly popped into his head.

"Have you ever flown before?" Harry asked as he jogged over to where he'd dropped his own broom.

"Flown? I'm a kitsune, we don't fly." The girl crossed her arms and raised her cute little nose up in a snooty gesture.

Harry jogged back over to her and mounted his broom, hovering a few feet off the ground. "Hop on." He patted the back.

Her violet eyes widened. "Hop on? On that? With a wizard?"

"I just want to help you, promise." Harry said, willing as much empathy as he could into his emerald green eyes.

His eyes must have done the trick. Because even though she frowned, Vulpecula stepped over onto the broom behind him.

"Grab on tight." Harry warned.

She wrapped her arms around his waist, though her grip was a bit looser than he would have liked.

"Don't you dare ruffle my fur."

That was a promise Harry knew he couldn't keep. Not at the speeds he needed to fly.

So he kept his mouth shut and just took off, speeding off in the direction of town.

Vulpecula screamed in fright as her grip tightened immensely. Her claws once more dug into him, through his torso this time, and Harry was sure that his shirt was ruined.

"Slow down, you oaf!"

"Can't! Gotta beat them to town!"

Harry climbed as he sped up, soaring high above the flat grasslands below.

Vulpecula buried her face onto his back as Harry leaned forward.

He saw five dots approaching a stone path. He was going to beat them to town.

Harry reached Hogsmeade. It was mid-morning, and so most people were at work, meaning the streets were almost deserted.

The shock of flying had worn off enough for Vulpecula to peek out over his shoulder, staring down at the quaint little town in barely contained fascination. "So this is a wizarding town." She whispered.

Harry grinned as he zeroed in on his target. The always open window to room 204, 'his' room, even though he didn't sleep there.

Harry slowed down, reaching a stop just as they made it to the window.

"Get in." Harry urged.

Vulpecula hesitated for a moment before jumping off the broom and into the room.

Harry followed right after, propping the broom up against the wall as he looked over at the girl.

She was inspecting his room with clear curiosity, even if she was trying to hide it, and it gave him time to get another good look at her.

She was wearing a light blue dress with a knee length skirt. Harry thought it matched her perfectly.

He also inspected her injuries. It was nothing too bad, just a busted up lip and some scuff marks on her shins.

"Is your lip ok?"

Vulpecula snapped out of her reverie, instinctually moving her face away in order to hide her bruise. "I'm perfectly fine. Those idiots were lucky they caught me during a new moon. Any later in the month and I would have torn them to shreds."

She meant for it to sound confident and intimidating, but Harry couldn't take it seriously.

"You don't believe me." She glared. "I can show you how dangerous I can be, wizard." She bared her canines at him.

"Harry."

"What?"

"Call me Harry." He insisted.

Vulpecula blanched. She blinked several times, as if she was trying to figure him out.

"Whatever, Harry." She finally answered as she looked away from him.

"Are you hungry?" Harry asked, searching for anything to say.

Vulpecula was about to answer with a resounding no, but her stomach picked that moment to betray her, letting out a loud, unmistakable grumble.

"Wait here, I'll head down to get you something." Harry didn't give her time to answer before he left through the door, leaving the kitsune alone in his room.

Vulpecula wrapped her arms around herself as the reality of her situation hit her. She was alone, amongst wizards. Would they hunt her down? Her mother and Ms. Fawkes had said that the wizards wouldn't break the peace, that they wouldn't harm them, but the bruise on her lip proved that to be a lie.

Worst of all, she was at the mercy of this weird, green-eyed wizard boy who was trying to act friendly. That unnerved her more than anything. What was he playing at? Was he playing some elaborate, cruel joke on her? The next time that door opened, would she be faced down with a bunch of angry wizards brandishing their wands?

She hated how powerless she felt, and the fact that for now, she would have to trust this boy, this Harry Potter.

…

Harry crept his way down to the pub, which was completely empty. He was banking on Rosie being out, buying some groceries from Mrs. Birch or bartering a case of firewhisky from Aberforth down at The Hog's Head (their next delivery was running late.).

He sneaked into the kitchen, where a thought hit him.

What do fox girls eat?

He knew foxes hunted, but he'd also seen them eat berries and nuts. He also couldn't just assume that Vulpecula's diet was the same as an animal's.

Deciding to just fix up something he liked, Harry grabbed a loaf of french bread he'd baked that morning, slicing it open with a serrated knife before slathering some butter on both sides.

He went around the kitchen, knowing exactly where everything was.

On went ham, turkey, cheese, tomato and lettuce, along with a splash of oil and vinegar.

He didn't exactly have the time to cook, so he hoped she'd be fine with cold cuts.

After filling up a glass with lemonade, he grabbed it and the plate and left the kitchen.

"Harry! You're here!"

Harry gulped. Rosie was talking to someone by the door, and he instantly recognized the look she sent him. It was the look she gave him when a neighbor told her he'd gone into Zonko's when he was supposed to be on punishment.

"Of course I'm here." He said, placing the food on a table as he walked over to her.

Rosie opened the door a bit wider, and a middle aged man with light blonde hair looked down at him with a frown.

"Harry." Mr. Stevens, who worked at the butcher's down the street, sported a raised eyebrow. "The Malfoy kid and a few of your other pals ran down here with the strangest tale. Figured I'd come down here and check with Rosie before making the trek out onto the plains."

"What tale, Mr. Stevens?" Harry asked innocently.

"Apparently, they said you attacked them, along with one of those monsters. Said you were over there trying to protect it."

Harry felt himself bristle at the way Mr. Stevens was addressing Vulpecula, but he fought to not let it show on his face.

"That's just them being stupid. I've been here all day, helping Rosie out in the restaurant."

He cringed at the lie the moment it left his lips. He glanced at Rosie, who's face betrayed no reaction.

"I haven't seen him leave, Gregory. And I'd definitely have seen it if he brought some type of creature in here."

"Of course, of course. Well, I'll be off then. I'll give those boys some stinging hexes for telling tall tales."

Harry couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief as Mr. Stevens left. He spun around and marched off towards the stairs, grabbing the plate and glass along the way.

"Harry, is there something you're not telling me?"

Harry froze, trying to keep his voice even as he answered. "No. There's nothing, Rosie. Draco and the others just like pulling stupid jokes like that."

Rosmerta didn't say anything else, and Harry made his way upstairs, taking calming breaths along the way.

…

The door opened and Vulpecula instinctually backed up until the back of her legs bumped up against the bed.

Harry walked in and carefully closed the door with his foot.

"Here, I made you a sandwich, its got ham and turkey."

Harry offered the plate up and Vulpecula stared at it suspiciously.

"I can try it first if you think its poisoned."

Vulpecula snatched the plate up from his hands. Harry placed the cup on the desk by the door as the girl sniffed at the sandwich before finally taking a bite.

She chewed slowly at first, but then her eyes lit up, and she devoured the rest of the sandwich in the blink of an eye.

"Do you want the drink? It's lemonade."

Harry held the glass out to her and the girl took it with a little bit less hesitation than before. She downed the drink in a few gulps as well, letting out a satisfied sigh in the end.

They stood in awkward silence for a few moments, before Vulpecula finally spoke.

"Thank you… Harry. I had not broken my fast today."

Harry smiled as she used his name. "Its no problem. Err… do you know how we can get you back home?"

Vulpecula frowned. "My people will come looking for me. But they'll probably wait for nightfall."

They'd been taught from a young age. If they were ever lost in the Muggle world, they needed to hide until night fell. At night, the elders could search for them more easily without being spotted.

Of course, there'd been assurances that if they got lost in the wizarding world, wizards would help them find their way home, but none of them truly believed that.

Harry hummed in understanding. "In that case, we just need to wait until its dark out and head out to that tree again." Harry tapped twice on his doorknob, activating the privacy ward that all rooms in the inn had.

He would have to hope that Rosie remained busy enough throughout the day not to check up on him.

In the meantime…

"Want to play exploding snaps?"

…

Rosmerta did try to check on her young ward during the day, but when she felt the privacy ward up, she decided not to pry.

Whatever had happened with the other boys, Harry would likely tell her tonight, and if not, she would wait patiently for when he felt ready.

Inside the room, Vulpecula was yelling triumphantly, not caring one bit that her fingertips were blackened from all the cards that had exploded.

Harry had taught her how to play exploding snaps, and after becoming increasingly frustrated with each game she lost, the hyper competitive girl finally began to win, and she didn't waste any chances to rub it in Harry's face.

"Hah! How pathetic can you be, Harry? I'm already kicking your tailless behind and I barely know how to play!"

Harry was never the best at snaps, but he was glad he chose the game, as it managed to break the ice between them in fantastic fashion.

"Hey, umm, Vulpecula."

"You may call me Vulpie." The girl said in an imperious tone, as if she was bestowing upon Harry the loftiest of privileges.

"Vulpie, what's it like where you live?"

Vulpie smiled. "It's magnificent. It's a vast forest, some say it never ends! And I'm nobility, so of course I live in the grandest castle there!"

She went on and on about where she lived, and Harry couldn't help but think it sounded wonderful. She talked about a thundering river, a lush, verdant forest full of magical trees of every hue, and of a deep, dark lake that was teeming with life.

Harry just sat and listened as Vulpie's tail swished behind her, her previous worries all but forgotten.

…

Night had just fallen, and the restaurant was completely empty. Rosmerta waved her wand, leaving some mugs to clean themselves as she decided it was time to check on Harry.

Just as she headed for the stairs, the door to the pub swung open.

A very tall figure dipped their head as they entered the door. They were wearing a heavy coat and a big straw hat that obscured their features.

This wasn't the first time Rosmerta had to deal with mysterious strangers, it was par for the course when you ran an inn, though usually they preferred Aberforth's place to her's.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes." A feminine voice spoke as she removed her hat.

It was an old lady, sporting a head of gray hair with a few defiant flecks of auburn speckled about. She had a kind, mischievous look to her face, with eyes of pure gold.

Her golden eyes were Rosmerta's first clue.

"I'm looking for someone, I was wondering if you'd heard anything,"

"Someone? A missing person?"

The lady nodded slowly. She was looking at Rosmerta as if trying to assess her.

Rosmerta thought back to earlier that day, the whole incident with Harry and the other boys. She knew for a fact that Harry had gone out.

"I think I know someone who might."

Rosmerta waited until they were halfway up the stairs before she spoke. "You don't have to worry, I'm not a bigot."

The lady froze in her steps, her eyes widening slightly as she looked up at the matron. "You know?"

"I've yet to see a witch with eyes like that."

The woman sighed, but she shrugged off her coat all the same.

Rosmerta's mouth hung open slightly. Even back when creatures frequented her pub, she'd never seen a phoenix before.

Her wings were massive. She was only able to unfurl them slightly before they pressed up against the narrow hallways. Her feathers were a muted red, having faded over the years from a bright crimson.

Peeking out from under her white dress were a pair of scaly, avian feet, ending in three toed talons with sharp claws.

"Fawkes at your service," the woman held a hand out and Rosmerta shook it.

"Rosmerta."

"I'm looking for a child that got lost in the forest, and I believe that she may have ended up here."

Rosmerta's eyes filled with realization, and Fawkes did not miss it.

"I have a hunch that you've come to the right place."

Rosmerta tapped her wand on Harry's door, disabling the privacy ward.

"Harry, I'm coming in! I have someone here with some questions!"

After a few seconds with no answer, Rosmerta turned the knob and softly opened the door.

They heard the light snoring before they saw the forms of the two young children, curled up together on the bed, dozing off.

Fawkes' eyes went wide as she took in the scene.

A wizarding boy and the Black heiress, cuddled up together, fast asleep. Vulpecula's tail was curled over the boy, pulling him closer to her as they both slept without a care in the world.

"Oh my!" Rosmerta gasped.

That was enough to shake both children awake. Vulpecula's sleepy eyes took in the newcomers, growing bright when she saw Fawkes.

"Miss Fawkes! You're here!"

Fawkes chuckled. "Your mother would have me tarred and de-feathered if I failed to locate you, Vulpecula. What happened?"

"I went into a tree trunk, and suddenly I was here." The girl said.

Vulpecula noticed that she was in a rather compromising position with the still only half-awake Harry, and she immediately pushed him off, causing the boy to tumble onto the floor.

"Hey! What gives Vulpie?" Harry complained as he stood up, only to stiffen as he realized they had company.

Fawkes giggled while Rosmerta had her hands on her hips, trying her best to send him a stern glare while she fought the smile that wanted to sprout on her face.

"Harry James Potter, you have a lot of explaining to do."

Harry gulped.

One explanation later, Harry and Vulpie were sitting on the bed, with a little bit of distance between them, while the adults looked thoughtful.

"I apologize for those boy's behavior, Ms. Fawkes. I swear, not all wizarding folk are as narrow minded as they are." Rosmerta urged.

Fawkes waved her off. "It's quite alright. I believe we've allowed misunderstandings to build up on both sides of the aisle." She looked at Harry and Vulpie, as if she was realizing something. "Perhaps it's time for us to amend that. Vulpie, it's time to leave."

The kitsune ran over to the phoenix, who wrapped her wings around her.

"Are you sure you don't want supper before you leave?" Rosmerta offered.

"I'm afraid we must leave."

"Goodbye, Vulpie."  Harry said, already missing his new friend dearly.

Vulpecula hesitated for a moment before she peeked over Fawkes' wing. "Farewell, Harry."

Fawkes bit her lip, before she made a snap decision.

She fluttered her wing, and a feather fell off. The feather floated softly towards Harry, glowing bright red as it descended towards the boy.

Harry held his hand out in awe as the phoenix feather nestled gently onto his palm.

"If you ever want to visit, just whisper my name onto that feather." She looked over at Rosmerta, but the brown-haired woman wasn't protesting.

"That's an open invitation for the both of you." Fakes said, before cringing slightly, "Though if you could, do give me a week before you come over. I'll have to smooth some things over."

After a final round of goodbyes, a ring of flames engulfed the phoenix and the kitsune.

In a burst of flame, the two were gone.

This will be a harem fic, but it'll be a slow burn on the smut side (not as slow on the romance but still definitely slower than my usual). Again, let me know what you think of chapter one, this, Dueling Hearts and Bonds of Servitude are basically my top priorities RN writing wise.