Prologue: Accidental Miracle
I do not own Harry Potter or related properties. I have expanded the magical world and heavily altered it from JKR’s canon as presented in the books. I have drawn major inspiration old European royalty and nobility and family interactions, as well as from old myths and stories about the Sidhe (She), the Unseelie and Seelie (Winter and Summer) Fae Courts. I am responsible for the character of Catherine Rachele Martel, and anyone wishing to use her in their stories should request permission first. This story should qualify as an AU as there is more alteration of the world and backstory than a single divergence.AN:
Readers might notice some minor changes in the story. This is the result of discussion and advice on the CaerAzkaban yahoo group after I posted these chapters. They helped me tweak a few things. One of those things was an in depth discussion of naming conventions of royalty and nobility, as well as pointing out some errors in my choices. Most of the changes within are to the names of characters. The changes are relatively minor and should be easy to spot.Summary:
Two months after his anti-climactic defeat of Voldemort before the watching eyes of Wizarding Britain, Harry Potter is traveling Europe in order to discover himself. Along the way a series of assumptions and alcohol influenced decisions lead him to the center of a complicated web of family alliances, betrothal contracts, and ultimately to love. Sometimes love begins at first sight, sometimes it takes an accident to make it bloom.
Accidentally in LovePrologue: Accidental Miracle
Harry blinked his eyes, returning to the world of the waking to a feeling of encompassing warmth. He felt a faint pulsing feeling in his core but ignored it as part of his hangover. His mind felt like it was in a fog with a side of ache, a feeling he remembered quite clearly from his last Christmas spent with Sirius.
It had been mere months before Harry’s stupid mistake and Gryffindor attitude had got Sirius killed, and the two had spent Christmas Eve in Sirius’ study drinking Firewhiskey while Sirius told Harry every story he could remember about his parents. They had passed out in the wee hours of the morning and had woken up the next morning with his head feeling like someone had split it with an axe. No matter how bad Snape’s legilimency lessons hurt, they never stacked up against his first hangover.
That had been over a year ago, but the memories of that night were still important to him, the last time he was able to just relax and be Harry, Sirius’s godson, not Harry “The Boy-Who-Lived” Potter.
Yawning he extended his senses, trying to remember through the fog on his mind just what he had done the night before that had prompted himself to drink so much he ended up with a hangover. He rarely drank that much, and in fact had only got drunk enough for a hangover twice after Sirius’s death.
The first time was on the first anniversary of his death, drinking with Remus to both honor Sirius’s memory and celebrate his defeat of Voldemort a few weeks earlier.
The second time had been with Viktor Krum after attending a Quidditch match in Italy his first day in the country.
Harry started to reach up to wipe the crust from his eyes when he found that his right arm was pinned under something warm. Blinking in confusion he switched to raising his left arm, which was not encumbered, and rubbed his eyes before slowly turning his head.
In the dim sunlight streaming through the curtains of his hotel room he could make out a head of soft, blonde hair lying on his chest. Continuing to fight through the fog he became aware that the warmth he had been feeling was not just due to the summer weather here in Italy, or to the comforter of his bed, but rather due to the warm and quite obviously female body curled up against his own. He could feel one of her arms draped across him and one of her legs draped over and entwined with his own.Who is this?
He wondered as his mind slowly began to process the jumbled memories from the night before. Slowly he began to use an Occlumency trick he had been taught to re-order his memories to hopefully figure out who this was in his bed. As he did so he ran through an evaluation of his core. He felt his wand on the bed-side table nearby, the ever present link between him and Fawkes’s feather a comforting warmth in his soul.
Despite the distance he felt the faint, tenuous link that was his familiar Hedwig. He had chosen to leave Hedwig with his ‘adopted’ sister Tonks for the summer as he was going to spend part of his trip in muggle hotels, which would likely have objected to him traveling with an owl. The link was faint but there, informing him that his familiar was alive and happy.
As he had every day since defeating Voldemort he found not even a residual trace of the dark link that had connected him and Voldemort for fifteen years. When Voldemort had died and the link had been excised he had been pleasantly pleased to discover that his ability to speak Parsletongue had NOT been a gift from Tom, but was a gift inherited from some distant ancestor.
Instead, he found a faint pulsing connected to his core. It was steady, calmly pulsing and carrying warmth and faint echoes of love.
Harry knew that his plans the night before had involved an all-magical night club with no intention of visiting the muggle side of Milan. This confused him, as Harry had only had a few bed-mates since his summer began and he had religiously avoided getting involved with anyone magical due to always being recognized as the Hero who defeated the Dark Lord Voldemort. It had been mere months since he had done so and apparently his face had been plastered across most of magical Europe. There was certainly more than one gold digger out there hoping to score with Europe’s “Most Eligible Bachelor.”
At remembering that moniker Harry privately promised some sort of retribution on Luna for sticking him with that name. If only she hadn’t published that damned article revealing his current political, social and economic position as the Lord of TWO Ancient and Noble Houses.
His thoughts were disrupted when he felt the arm and leg of the girl curled against him tighten. He felt her face rub against his chest before she arched her back. This incidentally pushed her breasts more firmly against him and made him even more aware of her femininity.
Slowly he watched as her head rose and she pulled back from him slightly. As her head rose to present her face to him he was momentarily stunned by her beauty, and memories of the night before began to come back.
Her skin had a faint golden tan to it, not dark like many of the people he had met over his last two weeks traveling around Italy, but her features had a very distinct and classical Italian beauty to them. Her hair he could now see was a soft golden blonde, a gentle yellow shade rather than the silver-white he was more familiar with from his friend Luna and his ‘brother’ Bill’s fiancée Fleur.
Harry ruthlessly buried a twinge of anger at the associated thought of certain Weasleys before refocusing on the beauty sharing his bed.
Her lips were soft and were a shade more pink than red. Her eyes were glazed with the remains of sleep, but still shined a gentle amethyst in the reflected sunlight. No other shade could properly describe the gems he was looking into. As she caught his gaze she smiled lazily, whispering softly in Italian before leaning in and kissing him gently on the lips. She didn’t pull back after a moment and Harry carefully tightened his arm around her, holding her close and kissing her back just as gently.
Within he felt that pulsing increase, and felt emotions of joy and contentment and love echo around his core.
His mind raced with memories from the night before. He remembered hanging around in a magical nightclub Krum had recommended here in Milan, careful application of some muggle makeup easily concealing the faint remains of the scar that had once connected him to Voldemort.
The first thing that he had learned on his summer tour of Europe was that witches would always check his forehead first. When he introduced himself by another name and used the makeup to conceal the scar they just took him for being an attractive young man rather than Europe’s “Most Eligible Bachelor.”
As such he had taken to introducing himself simply as ‘James’, as Sirius’s final actions before his death had been to legally adopt Harry and establish a second legal identity for him so he could inherit the Black Family Fortune and Titles, keeping them out of the hands of Draco Malfoy. Despite that, the entire summer he had never once used his full name when meeting a girl…until the night before.
Suddenly his sleep and alcohol addled mind processed what the girl still kissing him had said. His Italian wasn’t as good yet as his French or Spanish, but he had still understood what the girl’s soft, sweet voice had said.Good morning my husband.
Harry had to fight down the urge to panic.JUST WHAT THE HELL DID I DO LAST NIGHT?!!
This story has been inspired by a number of my favorite romances, both legitimate fiction and HP fanfiction. Some degree of inspiration and thought has been inspired by the Marriage Law/Marriage Contract trope in HP fanfiction, particularly Clell’s “Harry Potter and the Marriage Contracts”, and by the old social and familial behaviors of the old European noble, royal and aristocratic lines. The entire concept came from envisioning a single scene, Harry waking up with an unknown girl roughly his own age, who a series of accidents, assumptions and misunderstandings has led to him inadvertently marrying, and how he reacts and takes on the situation, calming and caring for the frantic girl who’s biggest worry is that he hadn’t realized he was marrying her. The entire idea spiraled outward from there as I asked myself “what sort of laws/magic/society would be required to lead to this happening? How would Harry get to this in the first place? How did he defeat Voldemort?” From those questions a single idle musing on a scene turned into this whole concept.