Harry dropped his gaze, determinedly studying the ground.
“I-I’m sorry, Fleur,” he whispered, harshly choking back a sob. “I didn’t, didn’t want to get you involved in that mess.”
A tear rolled down his cheek and fell next to his leg as he awkwardly stood there.
“You deserve, you deserve better.” He heaved a heavy sigh. “Better than this.”
As he slowly turned to leave, he was startled and stopped by her sudden, flowing movement.
“Oh ‘Arry,” A look of intense focus came over her features. With a featherlight touch, she traced the contours of his face, from the scarred brow, over the gaunt cheek and then brushed away his tears.
“I understood what would ‘appen when we got together.” She took his left hand into her right. “And I want to be with you, even when you are afraid, or 'urt, or unsure.” His hand, guided by her touch, found its way to her chest, right above her heart. “Just as I want you to be with me when I falter.” Her other hand dropped from his face and now touched his chest, feeling his own heart.
Harry was startled by this all and blushed, feeling the warmth and softness of her chest, but she didn’t let him go, her gaze holding him captive, as she closed the distance, pressing their foreheads together.
“Because love, love is more powerful than these…“ Here she grimaced. “trifles.”
And so she held him in place, by grasp and gaze, and he felt his heart calm down, beating steadily once again. And for each beat, her own heart answered his, slowly synchronising, until, finally, they beat in unison, bathed in the rays of the setting sun.