Inspired by This Artwork
It was pandemonium. The ruse had worked…until it didn’t. Instead of stopping, everyone jumped back into action the moment he rose from the dead. Spells were flying in every direction, none paying any attention to the battle taking place between destined foes.
It didn't shock him when none noticed Voldemort was dead.
None except Dolohov.
He dispatched his opponent, sending the diminutive Flitwick into a nearby pile of rubble, and began unleashing a hateful barrage of spells at Harry. Each one oozed with sinister design, each one a color Harry couldn't associate to a spell. Black. Gray. Purple. The lights came fast, all he could do was dodge, but his body was tiring.
A stray spell from an unknown assailant impacted with his right hand and a burning sensation spread quickly as he cried out and dropped his wand. A blasting hex knocked him down.
As Dolohov raised his wand to deliver the killing blow, a terrible shriek ran over the battlefield and he faltered as it sent the same chill through him as it did through Harry. Just as quickly, a bright glow appeared, illuminating the castle courtyard, and Harry covered his face to shield himself from it.
As the light died and he lowered his hand, his mouth dropped open.
Fleur stood before him, but never as he'd seen her before. Her hands were formed into talons and her face had taken on a sharp, avian form. Her hair pulsed with the same warm glow from before, rhythmically, as if dancing to some unheard war drum.
But it was the wings that made his eyes go wide.
They were gold and scaly, not made of feathers as the books had led him to believe they would be. They dwarfed her in size, both stretching far above her and into the sky. Each ended in a point that looked razor sharp, each one sporting an additional smaller hook at the tip. Faint scars marked the otherwise untouched leathery canvas.
His breath was taken away at the hauntingly beautiful sight.
"You will not have him!" she shrieked, and before he could react, Dolohov was cut down, her sharp talon stealing the life from his body.
Everything seemed to stop as Harry caught her eye, just a moment to glance her fury before she moved, faster than anything he'd seen before. She took down three before the rest realized that their end would be upon them. She took down one more before the remaining turned tail and ran.
An eerie calm descended upon the battlefield as Aurors and Order members chased after the remaining Death Eaters and werewolves, leaving just the Hogwarts defenders behind.
As he stood, Fleur had her back to him and he could see she was in pain. Her breathing was uneven and her chest rose and fell rapidly beneath her black tunic. Slowly her hands returned, ten perfectly manicured digits replacing the talons that had been present. She tightened the golden fabric belt around her waist and shook her head as her face began to reform into the one he knew, sharp cheeks and pale blue eyes.
The face of an angel.
He approached slowly as she flexed her fingers and he couldn't help but be awed as long gray sleeves slid onto her arms, ending just past her elbows. Her wings were still on display, even as her hair ceased glowing.
"Fleur…" he said, reaching a hand out to touch her shoulder. She violently pulled away, and her wings nearly knocked him over as she turned in his direction.
"Don't touch me!" she yelled, but it wasn't anger that he saw.
She was scared.
He took a step towards her and she recoiled, placing her arms in front of her chest, never looking up.
"Don't look at me!"
He frowned. "What? Why?"
She looked down further, still unable to meet his gaze.
"I'm hideous," she whispered.
He smiled and shook his head. Before she could react he stepped towards her again, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. When she didn't move away he placed the other under her chin, lifting it up so that their eyes finally met.
“And yet I can’t stop staring at your beauty.”
Instantly the tension melted from her frame, her shoulders relaxed and the furrow in her brow shrank before fading completely. She bit her lip, brief uncertainty flashing in her eyes before she spoke.
“Do you trust me?”
He flashed back to their last conversation before he left for the forest, sure he would never return, and he smirked when her own words came forth.
“I trust you more than I trust myself.”
Without another word she wrapped her arms around him and, with two beats of her massive wings, they were off.
It was freedom made real.
A broom made his troubles melt, the thrill of the air cutting off all worries and concerns. It was a pale imitation in comparison to the sensation he felt soaring through the air, wrapped tightly and securely in Fleur’s arms. Never once was he afraid she would drop him, never once did he doubt her absolute mastery of her own abilities or strength. The warmth of her touch spread to him as the air hit his face and he briefly closed his eyes, letting the sensation wrap around him like a comforting blanket.
As they hovered above the Astronomy tower he placed a hand on the dark fabric covering her left thigh, her firm grip keeping him in her arms, unfettered by the noise and chaos of the world. Unburdened by the losses the night had brought, gaining a brief respite from it all.
“I almost lost you,” she said, and he looked at her, their faces inches apart.
“I’m sorry. Never again. I promise.”
As the sun crested above the horizon on a new day she placed her left hand on his chest and captured his lips in a kiss that said more than any words.