It's funny that I'm releasing two Harry/Fleur open marriage stories within a week, but I actually started them at completely different times; it's just a coincidence that I'm posting them now so close together. Like Dealing with Devils, this is going to be a long ongoing story, quite likely eventually reaching the 100 chapter mark depending on how it's recieved.
Wanda flew with everything she had. There was so much she had to escape from, and her powers could only carry her so fast.
She remembered everything now. Thanos descended like a plague, stealing the only one she ever loved from her. No, he made WANDA kill the one she loved. Then he rebuilt him and killed him again, right in front of her.
She got her revenge. With the help of her allies, the mad titan paid for his crimes, slain and left in the past. But not all his victims came back, just a lot of them. Her Vision was gone, and there was nothing she could do.
She tried. Westview. For a moment, she had been genuinely happy. But it had all been a lie she was telling herself. She'd kidnapped people without meaning to, playing with them like dolls.
"Mommy! Mommy!"
As she soared above the ocean amidst scarlet energy, Wanda touched her face and groaned.
"Stop," she murmured. "They can't be real. They never were."
She wobbled in the air, but the voices didn't stop. They'd been hounding her since she left Westview. They sounded exactly like her children, even though she knew she and Vision never had kids, they'd just been a part of the Hex.
Right? So how could she hear them now? Maybe if she just looked in the book…
Agatha Harkness's greatest treasure was clutched under her arm, stolen from the other witch's lair. She called it… The Darkhold. That was it. Apparently, this book contained immense amounts of power. With it, one could do anything. How did Wanda know this? She just did. Agatha must have mentioned or, she learned it through some sixth sense witch's possessed. All she knew was that it was true, alright?
She rubbed her face again, breathing hard. She bounced in the air, nearly falling before she caught herself. Her breathing was getting shallow.
The fight with Agatha Harkness had been grueling, pushing Wanda's magic to its limits against a more experienced foe. And as soon as it was over, she took to the skies and crossed the ocean. She thought she could handle it. That was a decision she made BEFORE her dead children started whispering in her ear, weakening her focus.
Land came into sight ahead of her. It was some part of Europe, considering she crossed the Atlantic. Wanda pushed her magic harder as she accelerated. If she could make it back to Eastern Europe, she could tuck herself away in a remote place that no one would find. There, she could unravel the Darkhold. She'd have its secrets soon enough, though she'd have to take things slow, so that she didn't make any mistakes.
"We need you NOW Mommy! Mommy we're— We're in danger!"
"Gah!" Wanda shouted, squeezing her eyes shut.
She tried to weather the screaming in her ears, waiting for it to calm down again. But it was only growing more intense. Wanda slowed down. Her magic began to flicker.
Suddenly, her flight failed. She was so tired, and the voices were so loud. She fell toward the ground—she'd crossed the ocean-facing cliffs just before her powers weakened—and felt the wind whip her red hair back.
Wanda forcibly quashed the voices and summoned a cocoon of red energy just before she hit the ground. Her fall was broken, but she still landed in a heap on a grassy bluff. It was somewhere in the countryside with only one house around: a two story white cottage overlooking the ocean.
When Wanda tried to gather her scattered senses and rise to her feet, a few strange things happened. First, she felt a strong urge to move AWAY from this cottage. It didn't matter where she went, as long as it wasn't here. This thought felt unnatural, so Wanda fought against it, and the feelings instantly receded, disappearing like they were never there.
Next, though, was something more intense. Her eyelids grew impossibly heavy. She was tired, yes, but a nap here, on the grass? No, she could keep moving. She could fly again. Or she could take a nice little rest…
Her exhaustion stopped her from putting up a fight, and soon Wanda was drifting off right there on the grass. The last thing she saw was two pairs of shoes stopping in front of her, one wearing sandals with painted nails while the other was in closed-toed shoes.
LINE BREAK
Wanda's nose twitched. She smelled breakfast.
The rest of her senses trickled back to her at about the same time. She was touching something soft, could hear something sizzling in a skillet, and she could see nothing but her own hand.
The hand was because she was sleeping on her side with her head and hands on a pillow. Wanda sat up, rubbing her eyes. Her clothes were comfortable silk. A bathrobe. She wasn't back in the Hex, was she?
"Ah! You are awake. That ez good."
The voice had an accent slightly thicker than Wanda's Sokovian accent, the kind of accent you ended up with when you'd lived for a long time in a foreign country. Wanda looked at who spoke and felt her breath catch.
Even as another woman, this lady made Wanda feel at a loss for speech. She was blond and probably in her twenties, perhaps late twenties. Her face was perfect, even better than many of the VERY attractive superheroes Wanda had known and worked with. Her body was even better. The dress she was wearing bulged with a ludicrous amount of curves, from her hips to her bust.
"Where am I?" Wanda asked.
"My 'ouse," said the woman. "Mine and my huzzband's. We found you outside, on ze ground."
Wanda remembered… falling. Yes, she'd certainly ended up on the ground. She stood up slowly, pulling herself from the bed.
"Thank you," Wanda said. "I appreciate your help. I don't have any money, though, and—"
The woman laughed. "Money? We 'ave too much already! Non, we need no thanks. Would you like breakfast? We made an extra portion."
Wanda thought about refusing, because her face wasn't exactly a secret anymore, but ultimately decided that it couldn't hurt. This couple lived in a cottage set far away from any town. There was a good chance that they didn't follow the news and didn't know Wanda's identity.
She followed her host, and while walking behind her, quickly discovered that the blond woman's butt was just as curvy as the rest of her was. Wanda wondered what kind of man had captured the heart of such an absurd beauty.
They entered the dining room and Wanda promptly laid eyes on him. For the second time since she woke up, she was completely stunned.
He was tall and as well-built as a SHIELD agent. His black hair was messy but not ugly, his eyes were bright green, he was at least six foot three in height, and he was a menace with a frying pan. He moved it over the stove with practiced motions, scraping a huge serving of eggs onto a plate. He looked back over his shoulder and Wanda saw what was almost a baby face, in that his face could have passed for a college heartthrob while his body was that of a mature man.
"She's up!" he said. "Did you get her name, Fleur?"
So the blond woman was Fleur.
"I'm Wanda," said Wanda.
"And I'm Harry!" Harry had a pleasant British accent. "This is Fleur. She might forget crucial details like introducing herself, but she makes up for it in other ways."
"You love the way I make things up to you, don't you?" Fleur purred. She added a sashay to her hips as she pulled back a chair and sat. Wanda blinked, wondering if that was implying what she thought it was.
"We've got a guest, Fleur," Harry said, offering a very resigned rebuke.
Wanda slowly sat down at the dining room table. She looked around and noticed something strange. Although the cottage's interior was very cozy, there were no electric lights anywhere around. It was a bright morning so they weren't needed, but she saw only spots for candles.
Harry served her, setting down eggs, bacon, and breakfast potatoes. It smelled and looked incredible.
"Fleur changed your clothes," he said, clearing his throat and avoiding Wanda's eyes. "Just wanted to set your mind at ease. They were dirty, and a little bit out there as a fashion statement. So Fleur loaned you one of her robes. We didn't throw your clothes out though, of course, so just let us know if you want them back."
Suddenly, Wanda jolted. She had been about to eat because she was ravenously hungry. But a memory made her say, "Was there a book with me!?"
Harry and Fleur exchanged a look.
"There was," Harry said. "It's with your clothes. You can grab it after breakfast."
Wanda sighed and relaxed. The Darkhold was dangerous. It couldn't fall into the wrong hands, and she didn't want it to hurt ordinary civilians who'd been kind enough to take her into their home. Fortunately, Harry and Fleur seemed fine. Unless they'd used the Darkhold to barter their souls for superhuman good looks.
The food tasted as good as it appeared. Wanda found out that Fleur and Harry had been married for a few years, and that Harry was only 25 while Fleur was a bit older, at 28. They met in school, and Fleur was French, which explained her accent.
Fleur flirted relentlessly with Harry, and when she realized Wanda wouldn't take offense, flirted with her too. She was a very sexual woman, naturally sultry in a way that Wanda couldn't completely place where it was coming from. But they were both very kind.
To explain where she came from wasn't actually as hard as Wanda expected. She told them—truthfully—that she had been dusted in the Blip, and that she hadn't settled down anywhere. She said she had been going on a trip to find her place in the world, and accidentally stranded herself after a bit of bad planning. Harry and Fleur didn't question it, and even offered to let her stay for as long as she liked.
Wanda didn't want to at first, but her powers still felt quite weak. So she decided to stay just until they recovered. Then she'd take herself off the grid the way she planned.
Harry and Fleur were such good company that it wasn't until Wanda was bringing her dishes to the sink that she noticed how QUIET everything was here.
In Harry and Fleur's calm cottage, the voices of her children had disappeared completely.
LINE BREAK
Her hosts were lovely people, but there was something off about them.
Wanda came to this conclusion after spending a single day here. There were just a lot of small things that added up.
They had no electricity. There were the basic appliances like a sink and stove, and there was a fridge, but Wanda noticed that the fridge didn't make any noise, not even a quiet hum. When she snooped a little bit, she couldn't see a cord on it either.
It was also weird where they lived. Shell Cottage (the cottage's name) was picturesque, with a path down to the beach, yet it was on no road and the couple didn't own a car. But their fridge was fully stocked, and they seemed to have every comfort one could need.
Wanda tried breaking out of another illusion, but nothing about the cottage changed. It was all real, and she didn't think the owners were evil. Just a little odd.
Her clothes and the Darkhold really were safe. Harry showed them to her, tucked in a closet alongside some kind of trophy with a broom engraved on it. When Wanda held the Darkhold in her hands, the power felt a little bit muted. Was it weaker because her own powers were weaker right now? Either way, she set it back and continued to rest.
Fleur showed her to the beach and explained that they were in Cornwall, the southwest corner of England. Wanda relaxed all day, had her own guest room here, and felt genuinely lucky. Despite their oddities, the Potters treated her extremely well.
She went to bed first after a dinner just as tasty as breakfast, this meal also cooked by Harry. Fleur insisted she was a good cook, but she said Harry was just better, and gave him a kiss on the neck to thank him for cooking.
As Wanda lay in bed, Wanda realized that although they'd only known each other one day, Wanda didn't want to hurt them the way she always seemed to hurt those around her. She drifted into a sleep that was somehow un-plagued by nightmares.
Some time later, perhaps an hour or so, Wanda shot up in bed.
"Ahhhhhhh!"
It was Fleur's voice. The scream filled the entire cottage, and Wanda scrambled up, pulling her robe over the underwear she'd been sleeping in. Wanda ran through the house toward the master bedroom, her face deadly serious.
Was it the Darkhold? Did her enemies track her down? Was the government chasing her, and treating civilians as collateral to capture Wanda? She just didn't know. She needed to protect the Potters! That was the least she could do to repay them.
She reached the door and found it open a crack. Her hands glowing with red energy, Wanda froze seconds away from blasting through the door. She could see a sliver of the room inside. Now that she was this close, she could hear Fleur's screams much more clearly.
"Ahhh! Fuck me with your cock! Your brutish troll cock! Shove it in me… You are so big, 'arry! I cannot take it! Ahhhhh!"
Wanda had been wrong. There was no enemy. There was no danger.
The husband and wife were just in the throes of sex. And she couldn't take her eyes off of them.
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