Ellinora Trelawney had been blessed by the prodigious gifts that ran through her bloodline, yet she was untouched by the desperately forced air of mysticism that had defined her mother. Self-assured and competent, she conducted her magic with a grace that inspired confidence in those who sought her council.
A young couple, one with wild, midnight black hair, the other graced with the ethereal beauty of starlight, approached her humble residence in downtown London.
"Are you sure this is a good idea, love? I'm sure that I've had enough experience with prophecies to last a lifetime."
"Non, I am not so sure. But we are here, and there must be a reason for this."
Fleur was right. They had received the letter bearing an open invitation months prior, and though they had at first resolved to be content with a future unknown, a nagging feeling at the back of their minds would not let them rest.
Harry nodded and took Fleur's hand in his own as they walked up a set of cobbled stairs. His heart beat with the intensity of a Keith Moon solo that reached a crescendo as he knocked upon the unassuming door to the seer's apartment.
Thunk, thunk, thunk.
Fleur squeezed his hand and sent him a nervous smile that wavered in tandem with his pounding blood.
The door opened, revealing a petite young woman dressed smartly in a white blouse and woolen grey skirt. She would not have looked out of place in a law firm or brokerage house had it not been for the unnatural spark of wisdom in her bright, silvery eyes.
"Ah. The soon-to-be wed Potters find themselves on my doorstep. Would you believe me if I said that I had not been expecting you?" A quiet voice warbling with humor and a tilt of her lips were all it took to break the tension that had been building between the young lovers.
They exchanged pleasantries and Elliora led them into her home. Harry had been expecting the overbearing stench of incense and the garish decor that felt appropriate at a themed casino.
Instead, they were greeted by soft mahoganies highlighted by touches of lush plantlife, and the rich, heady smell of freshly brewed coffee.
They soon settled into a small but cozy sitting room and sat facing one another. Harry and Fleur found themselves at a loss for words, unable to gather the courage to state their purpose.
They were saved by Elliora's gentle beckon. "You came here to have your future read. It's natural to seek affirmation when you're about to be married, so just relax. It's not a weakness, and if my craft has taught me one thing, it's that no future is set in stone."
Fleur leaned into Harry's side. "We are confident in each other, but..." She swallowed, unable to continue.
"We know what society thinks about our kind of relationship. No matter how we feel about each other, we want to make sure that we... our families won't suffer because of the bigotry of others."
Elliora shook her head and her voice gained a hard edge. "Well that's quite stupid, isn't it?"
Harry and Fleur looked at her with eyes wide with shock. "Ex-excuzez moi!"
Elliora laughed, her silver eyes gleaming like the crystal balls her mother had held so dear. "You don't need my magic, but if it makes you feel better, you have a higher possibility of a happy life than most."
Harry looked to his fiance and saw the same confusion he felt reflected in her shimmering blue eyes.
"I don't understand. How could you know? You didn't do, well, anything!"
"Magic often speaks, Harry Potter, yet for you and Fleur, it sings your praises. All that is left is your own choices, your own will. Now look at her, Harry. Tell me, tell her, what does your future hold."
He gazed at Fleur, her soft blond hair glimmering in the halflight, her eyes bluer than robins eggs, mouth slightly opened in a way that captivated him. He absently wondered what she saw in that moment as she gazed back, but he knew his answer. No matter what the future brought, he would have Fleur Delacour by his side.
"My future. Our future. All my futures lie with you."