When they met, she knew that he was something different.
Yes, he was still a boy, but he seemed to be on the cusp of manhood. And he certainly became a man after his ordeal…there. In that godforsaken graveyard.
She, and the rest of the world, could tell that he wanted nothing of his fame and fortune. After all, who would want to be famous for the murder of your parents, and an accidental defeat of an enemy? The boy hadn't even known what he was doing, then, but certainly he would have now. And then he faced him again, and lived. Again. That was certainly something to be admired, yet she could still sense that he wasn't happy. His fame was rightly earned now, his aptitude in Defence Against the Dark Arts certainly well known. Yet once again, he had watched as a friend, as family, died right before his eyes, he powerless to stop it.
She knew he was brave, even before the maze. He had saved her sister from certain peril, no matter what anyone said about the hostages being in no danger whatsoever. She had admired him for that; she still admired him for that. He had deserved his head start in the maze.
When he had returned, she saw that something was wrong. Cedric had lain immobile, unmoving, dead to the world and everyone in it. She had screamed; how could she not? And when Harry had told the world his story, she had believed it, then and there, because this boy…this man, had never wanted any fame for himself, and concocting a story would have been unimaginable to him. So she believed.
She was grateful he was there for her wedding. She would be kidding herself if she hadn't ever considered falling in love with Harry Potter. What girl wouldn't? But she loved her fiancé then, and she loved her husband now. But Harry would always be a what if? in her life.
She had not been there for the beginning of the Battle. Bill had forbidden it, saying she was too precious to lose. She didn't care. She had snuck out of the Come and Go Room, and had joined in fighting for him, fighting for Harry, fighting for the man she loved, deep down inside her heart.
She had seen him then, lying in Hagrid's arms, and had wept silent tears. She couldn't make any noise. Noise was for horror and sadness, yes, but also for hope. And then there had been none.
But he had moved again; he had lived. And he had fought He Who Must Not Be Named, and lived again. She felt powerless compared to him, but she was happy. She loved him, deep down, a love of fierce passion that she only gave to one other person in her life.
But she knew they would never be together. They couldn't. The fact gnawed at her mind that a few months ago, all she had cared about was a goblin-made tiara. She was too perfect for him, and slowly, as the years went by, her love for him dimmed, but didn't die. It lay there, forever, a fiery ember of the smallest hope. She was content and in love with William, but she would always wonder, what if?
She would always wonder if she could ever have been Fleur Isabelle Potter.
Author's Note: I always wondered about Fleur and Harry's relationship, and her views of him. Yes, she was older, but I always thought that, deep down, she was in love. Many girls would have been in love with Harry. I decided, here, to explore those emotions...plausible? Don't get me wrong! I DO NOT ship Fleur/Harry (maybe a litte, actually), and I love Fleur/Bill, but, like in the story...what if? R&R.