Nothing is mine.

Short but sweet!

As Always

A flickering tongue of orange flame hovered above Harry's hand, sending shadows dancing across the bare stone walls and the thick, rune-marked iron door. The darkness clung to the hollows between the stalagmites and lingered among the stalactites lining the ceiling; it lurked in the tally of gouges carved into the smooth stone of the tallest stalagmite rising opposite the door.

Five days. He watched fire shiver, cupping its faint warmth to his chest as the incessant dripping echoed through the gloom. I think. It's hard to tell down here.

Muffled footsteps scraped along the corridor, growing louder.

A visitor? Maybe they'll take me to that trial Neville promised and judge me for being as bad as they all are.

The footsteps stopped before the iron door.

Harry closed his hand over the flickering flame, snuffing it out and plunging his cell into darkness. 'Come in,' he called. 'I'm pretty sure I'm the only prisoner here; Grindelwald killed all the others.

The door screeched open.

Is it Neville? He peered into the gloom, straining his eyes. Maybe my sisters? A hot little lump swelled in his throat, buoyed by a small plume of hope. Maybe… Fleur?

An orb of soft white light rose from the tip of a familiar ebony wand, soaring up over loose dark robes.

Fleur glared at him with pitch black eyes; her silver hair cascaded over her slim shoulders, smooth and pale as spun moonlight, falling past a red rose blooming in a bead of amber beneath her right ear and purple wisteria blossoming in clear glass below her left. The angles of her chin and cheeks shifted and sharpened as she stared at him, her eyes huge and dark as night.

'Fleur,' Harry breathed, all the air slipping from his lungs. Bitter raw guilt tore at him with sharp cold teeth, ripping and gnawing at his heart like Ripper at a piece of meat. 'You…' He scrambled to his feet and reached out one hand toward the light. 'Is it…?'

Is it really you? He crushed the doubt, stomped it down. It must be. The blood wards weren't broken.

Burning hot fingers seized his wrist and squeezed tight, searing his skin.

Harry bit back a little hiss of pain. You deserve it. The smell of scorched hair and flesh stung his nose. It's her. She's real. She's really real…

'I promised myself when I came back, that I wouldn't hurt him anymore,' Fleur murmured, dropping his arm. 'If it was still Harry, I would stop myself from twisting the knife anymore before it was too late. But I promised nothing about you, Mithras.'

The soft white light shone on the crimson-threaded clear ring on her left hand as she swept the door shut.

Harry's heart lurched. 'You're wearing it again.'

She narrowed her eyes and a little heat haze shimmered around her hands. 'It is my wedding ring, of course I am wearing it. I was not going to leave it with the aurors; it is mine.'

'You didn't before,' he whispered.

'There were good reasons for that,' Fleur murmured. 'And some… less good ones.'

Harry reached for his wand.

She snatched her hand back. 'I am not here to free you, Mithras.'

'That's not—'

'Yes it is,' Fleur hissed. 'I saw the memories. I watched as many as I could; I did not sleep or eat to make sure I understood. And I did. Harry was the boy who loved a girl beneath a summer sky. Voldemort was betrayed in a bathroom. And you, you betrayed me; you burnt the willow, you destroyed the dream. You are Mithras.'

'No, I promised.' He groped for words. 'I promised to make a world that wouldn't keep taking things away. One that was just perfect enough for us to keep our small wish.'

'That is not the same thing.' Fleur slid his wand into the pocket of her robes. 'I knew the moment I came back and found you had destroyed the willow tree. Harry would never have sacrificed us. He would have panicked, he could have lashed out, he might have despaired, but afterward, he would have given everything to get us back, like we did when he was gone. He would never have touched that tree if he had even the slightest hope that our daughter might have been bound to it. He would never have left to chase some ritual instead.'

But you were both gone. I thought you were gone. There was nothing left. I just had to make it all worth it.

Harry stared into the ink black of her eyes and found searing sharp hate; his heart plummeted, sinking down into the numb embrace of that small knowing smile.

I already ruined it. It's too late.

'I came to say goodbye to Harry, not you. La Victoire Finale bound us to each other, but you sacrificed it; you gave it up for something great. When they condemn you to death, and they will, you will not return.' Fleur's gaze roved over him. 'And I am glad.'

The pure loathing in her eyes twisted in Harry's chest, tearing through his heart like a jagged metal blade scoring through glass. 'I'm sorry,' he murmured. 'I'm sorry.'

'I do not care what you are,' she hissed. 'You are just something that crawled back out of that ritual after the man I loved sacrificed the one perfect thing he had.'

Black silk snaked from the tip of her wand, looping around his wrists and binding them together.

Harry swallowed, the vision of the Herald of Foes hovering in his thoughts. 'Do you hate me enough to kill me?' he whispered.

Is that how it ends?

'Yes,' Fleur snapped, digging the tip of his wand into his ribs. 'All I feel when I see you is fire. I want to burn you to ashes and scatter them into the wind so every last part of you is gone forever.'

Harry sank down onto the cold floor and crossed his legs. 'You can if you want,' he murmured. 'It would be fair. And maybe I'll still come back, I… je t'aime, mon Rêve, je te le promets. Je t'aime.'

Fleur's black eyes flashed with fury. 'Non. You do not. Tu aimes la folie: the power, the pain, the awe of those who followed you, and something great. I saw your new magic; worshipping your own sacrifice and playing hero to everyone.'

No. It's just you. It was always you. You and our baby bird. He ripped his hands free of the ribbon, wrapping his arms around his chest and blinking back the prickling heat of tears. But maybe you're right. I'm not just Harry anymore. I thought there was nothing left and I changed.

'I want to say this to Harry, not you, but you're as close as I can get,' Fleur whispered. 'Je suis désolée, mon Cœur. I failed. You did your part; you sacrificed everything. I was the one who failed.' The dark drained from her eyes, leaving them bright and blue as the summer skies beyond the willow boughs. 'And then I was so cruel to you. I dreaded not being perfect for you, dreaded it was not you, dreaded that if you loved me less, you might give up on us and it would all be gone, and every time I worried, I hurt you, because I knew you would panic and run back to me and everything would feel perfect again. I held your heart in my hand; I was the sun; and I hurt you over and over again, because if I could, it meant you loved me.'

Harry's heart wrenched. I still love you. It still hurts. And I don't mind. It can hurt forever as long as I get to be with you. He dug his fingertips into his ribs, but the raw ache sunk further, slicing deep and bittersweet. But I don't. I ruined all of that.

'Are you going to disappear now?' he whispered.

'I will come back to watch you die, Mithras.' Fleur vanished the black silk bindings in his lap. 'Because when I know you are gone for certain, I know my daughter will be safe.'

Harry watched her sweep out, flinching from the screech and crash of the iron door, and listened to her footsteps fade away down the corridor, dwindling into silence.

The quiet dripping echoed through the gloom.

'That's all I ever wanted,' he whispered, conjuring a small orange flame in his cupped hands. 'If you're safe to live your dreams, then it was all worth it, dawn or not.'

But I wish I could've had it come true too.

A desperate yearning clawed its way up his throat like a fistful of razors; his heart seized, sucked into a searing swirl of sharp glass shards, torn to bittersweet tatters and scattered away like red rose petals slipping through his fingers into the dark.

Just one more perfect wish you don't deserve.

Harry snuffed out the light between his hands and let it all sink into the numb eye of the storm.

This is perfect enough.

AN: Here we go! The linktree, should you want to read a chapter or so ahead on Discord, or support me and read what will, in a week, be the full finished story and all my original works!

/mjbradley