Time was ticking.
Fleur Delacour stared at all the miniature clocks she had around the room. She had collected a handful of clocks over the years that had passed. She did not want to miss the opportunity.
15 more minutes. She had looked at the date again, and again and again.
Today was the day that they would meet. That’s what she had seen anyways. The Veela, apart from beings of fire, were also beings of time. On the day of their magical maturity, they had the ability to look into the future and see the future meant for them. Some use this opportunity to see what kind of career they would have, some the number of children they would have. But to most of the Veela, being also creatures of love and romance, they used it to see who they would come to love.
But a word of warning always came to the Veela that use this ability to see an intertwined future. A future of love. The visions gave more questions than answers. It becomes less about seeing the future but more of seeing if you are prepared for what you might have in the future.
In the aftermath of the war, time has lost its meaning. With several wizards hoping to change the outcome of the war that Harry and his friends had won, time had begun to flow differently. Time had become non-linear.
She did not know where to begin their story. She just knew of a date, a time. Only those were precise.
Today was the day that they were supposed to meet and yet Harry Potter was upstairs, unable to wake.
Fleur looked at him, a man in big round glasses, the man she had already seen she would love all her life, locked in a seemingly eternal slumber.
She had been prepared for this moment. And if he did failed to wake, she had a solution. She had to find him. [1:34 AM] And so, she had spent the past weeks building a time machine. If he were not to wake by the time the clock strikes 4:30, she would take a one-way trip to look for him again and again.
She climbed to the 2nd floor of the house where Harry Potter slept. He did not age, and he did not dream. At least, that what she believed. He lay there at peace. And if it wasn’t for the full color on his face and the pulse that was steady on his hand, she would’ve been in tears for years.
How she wishes they could meet already, again or for the first time. It did not matter to her. It did not even matter if he were not to remember her or know her.
Time had already spoken for her.