The waters around the island sparkled in the midday sun, like multi colored jewels dancing atop the waves.
The sea breeze wafted across the beach, gently mussing Harry’s messy black locks as he sat atop the sands, leaning back on his elbows.
A laugh drew his attention. He turned to the shore...
And beheld a vision in silver and blue.
Fleur Delacour stood on the soft, wet sand, letting the waves wash over her feet as she smiled.
She turned to him, and he beheld her in all her summery glory.
She was dressed in a light, powder blue dress top, her shoulders bare, loose sleeves billowing in the wind.
Her top was tucked into a pair of white bikini shorts that hugged her lithe figure. A sash, the same shade of blue as her dress, was wrapped around her waist. Her legs were bare, dainty feet adorned in merely a pair of blue sandals.
Her silvery hair, done up in an easy ponytail and held in place by a dark blue bow, swayed in the wind as she smiled at him, her face lighting up angelically with joy.
What had he ever done to deserve her?
Why had she ever chosen him, of all people?
“‘Arry?”
He blinked, startled from his thoughts.
Fleur leaned over him, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her shoulder as she spoke, eyes filled with concern and care, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he said.
She pouted adorably, stomping her foot in the golden sands. She sat herself down in his lap, wiggling around to find a comfortable position, the feeling of her derriere doing things to him.
Her hand came up to cup his cheek, “You can't lie to me, mon amour.”
Harry smiled at her, his arms coming up to wrap around her chest, pulling her in, as he rested his head on the crook of her neck, “I’m not lying, Fleur. Just remembering how lucky I am to have someone as wonderful as you.”
She smiled, planting a kiss in his hair as her hands came up to lovingly stroke through the messy raven locks, her voice laden with love as she replied, “Believe me, ‘Arry. The feeling is mutual.”