Fleur gurgled, coughing up blood, as she tried to speak one last time to Harry. He was staring down at her as her head lay in his lap and the beautiful evening sky lay bare above them. It was pretty pointless, in hindsight, she was dying, her lungs filling with blood she thought strangely calm. Yet she still tried for him. He held her, pale, his tone pleading, but she was rapidly losing consciousness. The words were as blurred to her ears as her vision as she struggled to keep her eyes open as tears fell. The pain had long since faded as she lost feeling in her body and she felt light. Every breath brought a brief sensation of something somewhere but honestly it was taking all of her willpower to just stay focused on Harry. Distantly she recalled her grandmothers advice to fight until the end- and if she heard the siren song, keep on fighting until she couldn’t anymore. Honestly she didn’t really understand the last part until now but as something beyond swelled and beckoned to her she struggled to stay alive, and resolved to fight like her grandmother.
“I’ll be alright, love. Run, and don’t look back. Don’t let them take you here, and keep your promise to me,” she wanted to say but only spurts of blood with bubbles came out of her mouth and Harry couldn’t hear her thoughts.
Ten years earlier
Fleur sighed as she stared into the fire as if it could solve her problems. If she was a seer like her grandma then maybe she could have divined something from it but she wasn’t. She served the rebellion as a healer and occasional assassin. Lord Grindelwald had named his successor as Tom Riddle and he had ruled over what was considered most of magical Europe. His heir, Harry Potter, had just been sent to France to ‘deal with the rebellion in Paris’ according the intelligence they got. He had come see her after a battle with some rebels as she was one of the top healers in Paris. The man with the killing curse eyes was surprisingly charismatic as he first made sure his troops were in good hands before talking her up as she healed him. The rebellion painted him as a vicious rabid dog, to the citizens he was a hero, and the troops seemed to worship him but Lord Riddle was a cruel master and no doubt despite seeming normal there were cracks under the charming heir apparents’ mask.
Her public life was invaluable to the rebellion and as such she was one of the best kept secrets. She couldn’t publicly meet with any of the other members, left reports every two weeks in different dead drops across the city with a blood lock that only Gabrielle could unlock, and only their father and Gabrielle knew she was with them. She wasn’t allowed any intelligence on their operations bar early warning of Harry Potter coming and it was only though the barest of margin was she saved from a few of their attacks. She was pretty good at cooking- better than most- but it all tasted like ash. She even burned some of the chicken unintentionally as she got lost in her thoughts a bit too much. Sighing as she noticed that she spent the last hour and a half ‘eating’ her meal and it was only half done she vanished the rest of it and got ready then went to bed. She didn’t sleep well that night, nor the next, and anxiety and worry kept her up long after darkness fell. If she was lucky she lost consciousness as it turned a light blue.
Part 2
The next two weeks she gradually looked more haggard and worn down but that was roughly everyone where she worked. The rebels had somehow managed to evade the guards and were now spread out in the countryside. She was busier than ever making, making potions and healing the soldiers, who were injured in ambushes. It was hard on everyone, and the physical supply lines were cut as anyone on the road were attacked and the supplies taken. Refuges flooded into Paris as the attacks outside of it intensified and they spared no one. Their food stores were still fairly high and magical supply runs happened daily but it just wasn’t enough for a swelling population that was growing larger by the day. Everyone competent with potions and healing charms were enlisted and Fleur managed them all. Her single healer area with five patients had been magically expanded to hold twenty patients and one healer with nine assistants. The lab was taken over by the potion makers and likewise could handle about fifteen different people. Days blurred into months, unending, repeating, and yet utterly shattering as she at first managed to juggle all of the tasks before a master potion maker found their way into Paris and all she had to do was manage the healers. Even that was partially taken away as her sole responsibility as another healer took on the night shift management. The resistance outside eventually broke and the healers were added to the units with Fleur, of course, joining the one lead by Harry Potter. Most of the healers been injured, incapacitated, or died in the siege.