Flowerpot

When did we turn to ashes?

Harry had never imagined he’d be sitting here, across the table from his wife of eight years at their Divorce settlement

Fleur’s gaze seemed to bore into his, her cerulean eyes, once so warm and loving, now cold, angry, and hateful

He couldn't judge though. His were no different.

When had it come to this? When had loving smiles become fake facades

How had warm nights spent cuddling together turned cold and lonely

How had they gone from sharing a home, to living on opposite sides of the city

Where had the happiness gone? The joy, the desire, the support, the trust

Where had the love gone?

“I want the house”, Fleur demanded, knowing how much Grimmaud place had meant to Harry. She smirked at his angry frown

“I want the Library”, Harry countered, knowing how lovingly Fleur had curated their collection. He grinned at her growl

“I want custody of Victoire.” Fleur said.

Harry growled, slamming his palms on the table as he leapt to his feet

“Over my dead body”, He hissed

Fleur snarled as she got to her feet, her wand’s tip glowing a sickly purple as she pointed it at Harry “That can be arranged.”