Fleur Delacour was over the moon. She was set to marry the love of her life, in just a few hours. In a short while, they would stand beneath the moon, her cerulean eyes would meet his emerald green, and they would be tied together in front of their family, for all eternity. And then, he would truly be her mate, in every sense of the word. The door to her room burst open. It was Gabrielle, panting, eyes frantic. In between choking gasps, she told Fleur what had happened. The groom was nowhere to be found. Harry Potter was missing. They found him, six months later, working in a bar in Memphis, Tennessee . His face had lit up at the sight of Fleur and the rest of his friends, his infectious smile illuminating the room…. Till Hermione had slapped him. And begun to scream. Fleur had watched, unable to speak, lost at what to do now that Harry had been found. Unhurt, and for all indications, free. As Hermione had torn into him for leaving his wife to be, pulling a Lupin just before his wedding, the raven haired young man had sunk to his knees in shock, tears welling up in his eyes, covering his ears, face scrunched up in pain Later, much later, they came to know… Harry had no memories of leaving the wedding. His conscious had surfaced when he was already in Memphis, and he’d not once thought of his friends, or his girlfriend. It was… suspicious, to say the least. Yet, Harry had thrown himself at Fleur’s feet, begged forgiveness for his leaving her, for causing her all the pain he had. Fleur had forgiven him on the spot, wrapping him up in her embrace.
They had replanned the wedding. All was going well. Until Harry disappeared once again, just hours before the vows. They’d found him in Johannesburg, South Africa this time. It was just like before. No memory of any wedding planning, and no thoughts of his friends for the entire time he’d been away. The first they’d done after taking him back to britain was to drag him to a curse specialist. What he uncovered was beyond anything Fleur could have imagined. The curse was old. Ancient, even. It appeared to have existed on Harry, since before he’d been born. For all the specialist could tell, all the curse did was prevent marriage, at this point. So, Harry and Fleur had decided to just… never marry. They would be together, just not as husband and wife. And despite their cheerful facade, their relationship was under strain. Fleur, despite herself, was never able to bring herself to fully trust Harry, unsure of when the curse would flare up again, and he would vanish once more. And Harry…. The curse, his straining relationship with Fleur, his weakening bond with his friends, and the growing uncertainty in his own mind was weighing down on him more than he could admit. Yet, they made it work for four years. Their relationship had healed, and had become stronger than ever before. They were in love, they were happy, and even though they weren't married, they believed they could want for nothing more. So the news of Fleur’s pregnancy came as a wonderful surprise to top it all off. Harry was overjoyed. He was going to be a father. His overwhelming enthusiasm outshone even Fleur’s happiness. He took the reins when it came to their child, converting one of the rooms of their house to a nursery, buying clothes and toys and furniture and everything his child could possibly need, as Fleur watched on with a proud smile. It seemed like they had truly managed to put the curse behind them. A new, happier chapter had begun in their lives. If only they had known.
If Fleur had to describe Harry’s expression when he first held their daughter, she would have to describe it as a face glowing with wonder and an unending amount of love. His eyes had teared up, and his voice had cracked, yet he’d held on to their child for as long as he could. The first night after they’d left the hospital, Fleur had awoken, in the dark, to an empty bed. Harry was gone, and steps were heading toward the nursery. She’d grabbed her wand, and stealthily made her way down the hall, freezing at the threshold of the open nursery. Harry loomed over the crib in which their child, their beautiful daughter, peacefully slept. His lively, warm green eyes now displayed a bitterly cold expression. Across his bare torso, and the rest of his bared skin, blackened veins rose. And in the center of his chest, glowing ominously, was etched the symbol of the hallows. His hand came up, wand tip glowing a malevolent green. And before Fleur could react, it swept down, a rasp that drew the very life from its surroundings emerging from his lips, so removed from the loving voice she knew. ”Avada Kedavra” A flash of green light. And their child was no more. Fleur’s scream of anguish rent the air, tearing Harry from the clutches of whatever possessed him. The black retreated from his veins, the light returned to his eyes, and the symbol of the Hallows disappeared from his skin. His eyes went wide, wand clattering to the floor as it slipped from his shaking hands. “No.. no… NO… NOOOOOO!!” His anguished roar joined Fleur’s as he collapsed onto his knees, shell shocked. His emerald eyes stared at his trembling hands. The hands that had held his child with so much love. The hands that had taken the life from her. It had long been said that the Master of Death left no legacy. No one could have imagined it was meant so….Literally