AN: I'll be surprised if anyone is expecting an update for this story- or any of my stories for that matter, considering my completely dreadful track record for updating. It just so happens I'm in a fanfic frenzy between Glee and the Hunger Games. I felt this deserved some attention, too. Please be kind as I try to remember where I was going with this in the first place.
Hermione awoke once more from a bout of fitful rest, feeling just as exhausted as she had before falling asleep. In her half-awake state she sensed a centre of warmth and curled closer to it, her bruised hands grasping at the sheets and-
She shouted in surprise at the presence of another in her room, her mind automatically jumping to the worst conclusions before her bleary eyes cleared to see Fleur before her. She sighed in relief and collapsed into the older woman's lap, chuckling to herself a bit.
"This paranoia of mine is getting a bit ridiculous," Hermione's lip curved into a half smile as Fleur stroked her back reassuringly.
"Shall I go and make the tea?" Fleur asked. Hermione nodded and rose slowly, wincing at her still-bruised rib. "I'll come along, I should be getting up and about at this time."
This was the routine the pair had fallen into for the past week, Fleur researching a better Dreamless Sleep Draught as Hermione, between periods of fitful rest and tending to her wounds, continued to do research of her own on the locations of the Horcruxes.
The young woman's thoughts were pierced by the whistling of the kettle as the older of the two warmed up the cakes. She took two chipped mugs out of the cabinet and slid them onto the table, settling herself in a chair facing her French counterpart's back.
"Fleur, d'you think this will all have an end? Not just the war, I mean. All of the fear and dreadful things that come along with it," she took the mug in her hands and stared into it, inspecting a bit of tea leaf that refused to be scrubbed off despite the best housekeeping spells.
"Non, I do not, 'ermione," she filled Hermione's cup before her own and slid into her chair, looking her in the eye gravely. She took a sip of her tea before continuing. "There are many things, I think, that will last far past this war. Some bad, some good, and many that we will wish nothing more than to forget," she took Hermione's hand in her own. "But I think that you will be okay, if that is what you are asking."
"I'm glad you think so, Fleur, but I'm not so sure," absentmindedly running her thumb over her friend's knuckles. "It's been a week and I still can't stop thinking about the things I saw there, but when I open my mouth to speak of it, it's like it stops right at my mouth and dies there. But it's all I can see when I close my eyes, all I hear when I sleep, and I'm already sick of it! I can't focus on this research that Harry and Ron need-" the blonde shushed her curly haired friend.
"I 'ave some good news, 'ermione. With this you might be able to join your friends," she slipped her hand out the younger witch's, pretending not to notice the fleeting look of disappointment or the fluttering in her stomach that came along with it. She left the kitchen, muttering curses to herself as she sifted through a pile of papers on the coffee table, and Hermione noted to herself that the blonde woman looked positively ethereal in the early afternoon sun that filtered through the sheer curtains. She dismissed this thought as the thought one would typically have a caretaker saving your last bit of sanity.
"Je l'ai trouvé!" the French woman cried triumphantly. She flitted back over to the table, eagerly smoothing the paper out over the cracked table."I 'ave the potion simmering in the garden shed, but I wanted to show you the actual steps... it should be finished before nightfall." With the mention of night, Hermione was unable to stifle a yawn which did not go unnoticed by her French companion.
" 'ermione, why don't you go to the guest room and try to rest for a bit while I try to figure the rest of this potion out?" the younger witch shook her head fervently in disagreement and stood quickly, eyeing the door to the outside world, a place she had not seen since her arrival.
"No. I'm going to come with you and help," her lip curled into a small half smile and she cheekily added: "I need to make sure you don't botch the whole concoction, after all."
"Well, I'm glad to see your spirits have risen enough to resume your teasing," Fleur retorted. She tugged on the younger girl's hand and led her to the shed, unlocking the door with a series of spells Hermione seemed to be impressed with, which in turn resulted in Fleur feeling a bit smug. Inside were a dozen cauldrons filled with different steps in the process.
"It will probably need another two or three days to complete the brewing, 'owever, the batch will be enough for a month's worth of doses. You should take care to only use it when you need it desperately, 'ermione, I 'ave been doing some reading and it seems that one can quickly develop a dependency on it-" Hermione stopped her friend's rant.
"Fleur, how long have you been working on this? The older witch shrugged noncommittally.
"Oh, I'm not sure, exactly, I started the research when you arrived 'ere. I'd 'eard of the potion before, potions was my best subject at Beauxbatons, you see, and I wanted to do whatever I could to help-" Once again, Fleur was cut off, but this time by the soft brush of Hermione's lips against her, hesitant and quick and breath-taking.
"I-I'm sorry," the younger girl stammered. It's just no one's ever done anything so considerate for me before and I... oh I feel like such a fool!" and with that she ran into the house without seeing the smile playing on Fleur's face. She sighed, surveying the cauldrons in the small room, setting back to work. Hermione's well-being needed to be tended to before her own