A/N - This is really just an extended thought, but I hope you enjoy it!
Remember To Breathe
They've been laughing about it for a long time now, how he took her breath away when they first met, knocking her to her feet with a rebounding Stunning Spell. She'd fallen in the dust, her hair mixing with the sand as she lay there gasping. He had run over, pulling her to her feet with a charming grin and a flash of fire in his eyes, and then pulled her with him, running through the golden corridors of the ancient city. They'd burst into the sunlight in a cloud of sand, sprinting away from the sliding rocks and dust clouds until the rumbling was just a distant sound, and the pyramid blended with the sharp light of the horizon. He'd pulled her close and looked at her, with blue eyes sharper than driving rain, and kissed her against the blazing sun.
She hadn't told him that she still hadn't caught her breath, that she couldn't breathe when he wasn't touching her and can't breathe when he does.
Then there was the evening a while later, almost a year, when they were just lying together on the sofa, in front of the fire. He'd fallen asleep, holding her in strong arms, and she was just lying there, perfectly happy. She had made a move as if to get up, unwrapping herself from him, and he'd pulled her back to him and whispered in her ear.
"Stay, Fleur. I love you."
She hadn't been able to stop smiling all night, and every breath caught in her throat as she tried to take it.
Then that terrible day, the day of the werewolf. She had been so angry, so betrayed at the suspicions of his family that she barely looked at the scars, just collapsed at the side of his bed in horrible tears. But then his hand had crept over hers, and she had looked up to meet his eyes, those beautiful blue eyes. His mauled face creased into a smile, bloody scars wrinkling as he gazed at her. And again, she couldn't breathe. Not even a little bit.
And such crippling sorrow was followed by such transforming joy that she didn't even expect to breathe, not when she walked down the shimmering aisle to him, to her future, to happiness. And when she got to the end, and he took her hand, she had to remind herself to take a breath, and another, and another. But she still felt lightheaded.
And that was the thread running through the rest of her life; no matter the situation, no matter the danger, if he looked at her with those eyes, with that ironic smile, she had to remember to breathe. A thousand nights in their little kitchen, when the war was closing in on them, when she had just had their first baby, when she was old and wrinkled, she would turn around to find him just looking at her, taking her breath away.
The ironic thing is, to the rest of the world she is the breathtaking the one, she is the girl so beautiful she shines. No-one sees that the breathtaking girl has no breath herself, that she's constantly looking for him in every room, that he's always strolling through her mind and pushing every other thought away whether she likes it or not.
They've been laughing about it for forever, how he took her breath away when they first met. But he doesn't know that he's taken her breath away every moment since then too, because she needs him more than she needs the air.