A/N #1: Okay back to real chapters, I have revamped the title-age on the previous chapters; if you are so inclined, feel free to re-read, if you didn't feel th

Chapter 4. Why Can't You Behave?
Place & Time: Downtown London, Circa Present Day


Harry looked at the determined Veela, who was suddenly reminiscent of the Fleur he once knew, not this shell of a person she had become. Specifically, his thoughts flew back in time, to a horrible period they had all shared together, years ago...

Place & Time: Shell Cottage, the Coast of England, Circa Year 7 at Hogwarts


"Oh my word!" Bill said, stunned. Yelling upstairs, he cried out for his girlfriend. "Fleur, come quick! Bring your wand!"

Fleur, recognizing the alarm in Bill's voice, practically apparated downstairs.

"What is it ...Mon Dieu!" Fleur's eyes were wide, as she took in the battered trio, the boys essentially dragging a bloody Hermione Granger between them, and levitating the corpse of a House Elf behind them.

Fleur wordless rushed over and scooped up the nearly lifeless girl, the Veela's mind snapping into action. The boys eyes were pleading silently for help.

Fleur moved to them quickly, taking Hermione's collapsed body from them. She handled the frail girl with unbelievable care.

"William...see to ze boys and ze elf! I vill take 'ermione upstairs and do ez best I can- she is not doing well."

"Right-o. I put your healers bag in the upstairs closet."

Bill and Fleur wordlessly snapped into action, healing and tending to the three wounded Gryffindors. They had oddly been give no advanced warning from the Order that the trio would be seeking as asylum with them. But then again, only Dumbledore knew exactly what they were up to; or there whereabouts.

Harry and Ron were in much better shape then Hermione, and later recounted what had happened to them and Dobby to the young couple.

When they finished telling them about the torture Hermione had suffered at the hands of the certifiably insane Bellatrix Lestrange, fleur flew off the handle, spewing of a prolonged rant of expletives in French.

When she regained her sensibilities, the three males were staring at here, dumbstruck.

"I dunno what you said, Fleur, but it sounded sexy as all hell!" Bill said with a grin. Ron nodded his agreement.

That seemed to only annoy the French witch further.

"You zink zat zis is a joke, William? You zink zis is funny?"

"Of course not, dear, I was merely-"

She cut him off, standing abruptly at the table. Slamming her hands on the table she said passionately, "I was barely able to keep her alive William! Had Zey arrived even ten minutes later, I doubt I would 'ave been successful..."

She sighed, slumping down.

"We're all scared, Fleur." Harry said, gently. "We all care about her."

"Not like I do, mon ami, not like I do..." Her voice trailed off, and she exchanged a sad look with Bill.

"What are you going to do, now, Fleur?" Bill said, gently.

Her face covered, she said quietly, "I need to floo ma grand-mere."

"The Veela healer? It's that bad?"

"Oui." She said, sadly. "Zat 'orrible beetch has embedded dark magic within ze very core of her body! It exceeds my skill level, and it iz not safe for zem to travel to a healer, wiz ze death eaters looking for zem."

Bill cleared his throat.

"Will she ...help you, Fleur? Given the identify of the patient?" Bill asked hesitantly.

"What choice do I have, William? What choice do any of us have, frankly?"

He nodded, in understanding. "Well, we should all head to sleep then, as Fleur will have to wake up at 2am with the time difference. How is Hermione sleeping?"

"I gave 'er a sleeping draught. She's out, finally. Her nightmares are…assez féroce, I'm afraid." Fleur said, a pained look on her face.

Harry and Ron were too exhausted to follow most of the conversation, but they were glad that the Veela had had the wherewithal to administer the draught, and that their friend was alive and finally resting.

They agreed to Bill's suggestion, and trudged upstairs to their makeshift room, happy to finally be sleeping on a real bed, once more.

XOXOXOXO

Ron woke up from a nightmare, feeling the effect of the Cruciatus curse, burning through his body.

He awoke with a start.

After he got his bearings, he realized sleep would elude him; he headed downstairs to do what Ron did best: eat. As he made his way silently downstairs, he heard the soft melodic tones of his future sister-in-law talking fervently to someone in the fireplace.

It didn't take long to realize it was Fleur's formidable Veela grandmother who was the recipient of her conversation.

"Ma puce…is it wise? It will take much from your body, to heal the wounds you have described. You will have to sacrifice some of your Veela essence to counter zes effects, ma chere." She sounded worried.

Fleur sighed, heavily. "You know ze answer, grand-mere."

"C'est vrai…I do." The older woman sighed. "I will tell you, Fleur, of course I will. She is a brave and noble soul, zat 'ermione Granger."

Fleur said nothing, but Ron could see her nod her head to the affirmative.

"Ma puce…tell me again, why you are not following your heart? It iz so clear to me, you are deeply in love."

Fleur stood abruptly, and began pacing along the rug in front of the fireplace. She was clearly agitated, and her expression livid. "Grand-mere, we have been through zis a zounzand times! You know the Veela tradition, and ze responsibility of ze first born!"

"Bah, tradition!"

"It is my duty to produce an heir, to continue ze Delacour lineage."

The older woman nodded. "It is also your duty to honor your one true mate, my dear."

Fleur threw her hands up, exasperated. "Do not torment me with what I cannot have, dear Grand-mere!"

The older woman grew thoughtful. "But you will die, without 'er."

"But I will die without William, as well."

"Mais non, he is not your true-"

The younger Veela cut her off. "I am aware of what he iz to me!" Fleur slumped down, into the couch, looking exhausted. "I 'ave no choice. I am bound…you know my two cousins were not able to continue the line…you know Gaby does not prefer ze company of men, as I; you know what I am duty bound to do, Grand-mere."

"You always have a choice, dear one."

"No I don't!" She shouted, with fury. Her hands extended, due to her extreme frustration, into talons. Ron grew frightened, but didn't move. The Veela continued, her voice harsh. "Maman made me swear…swear…to uphold the Delacour honor! I made the…" her voice broke.

"No!" The healer said, voice hushed. "Tell me Apollene did not ask zat of you!"

Fleur nodded, sadly. "Maman made me swear it, with ze Unbreakable Vow."

"What?" Her grandmother exploded, in utter disbelief. "No…Apolline couldn't not 'ave…Mon Dieu! Elle ne pouvait pas être si cruel ..."

Ron could feel the sadness running off Fleur in waves. It was horrible, a horrible choice. His fatigued brain grappling with the fact she was in love with the same woman he thought he was, but promised to his brother. Denying either would ultimately lead to death for the woman in the improbable circumstance.

Bloody Hell! Thought Ron. Damned if you do, damned if you don't….

The Veela healer corrected her expression, realizing the very thing Ron had just grappled with. Softly, she told her favorite grandchild, "Bien sur, ma puce. I will help you help your 'ermione. Besides, if she and her two friends are as important to ze outcome of ze war, well, you really have no other option, do you?" She exhaled. "My dear flower… Here is what you do…"

Fleur leaned in closer.

"Fleur, you must give her a piece of your essence. Skin to skin, you must lay, for as long as it takes. You will then incant the following healing chant, thrice in the morning, thrice at noon, and thrice as the crow flys south…"

With that, she spoke the language of the Veela to Fleur, making her say it over and over until the inflection was absolutely perfect. Once perfected, the stately woman gave a grave warning to Fleur.

"Listen closely: once this is done, once she has healed…you must never be …Comme vous le savez… intime, Fleur. It is imperative you follow zat."

"Intimate? What do you mean, Grand-mere?"

"Kissing, for example. You must never give her true love's kiss…"

"But Grand-mere! I have kissed 'er, my 'ermione, dozens of times! Intimately!"

Ron's face burned red. When had Hermione kissed the French witch? Surely not while they had been dating? Right?

"Fleur!" She hissed. "You are being deliberately daft! You kissed 'er when she was a mere fifteen years old!"

Fleur's face fell, with realization. "Ah. And now, she is seventeen, almost eighteen years of age."

"Oui. She is seventeen, now! Ze age of consent, as a witch. If you give 'er zat kiss, it will start—"

"—Ze bonding process." Fleur said, with glum realization. "I give you my word, Grand-mere. I will not attempt to kiss her."

"I love you, my dearest Grandchild. You will contact me when you are done. And remember, this will leave you weaker, until your Veela core can rebuild…if it ever does."

Ron watched the face of Fleur's grandmother leave the fireplace with a snap and a pop, and he was left feeling incredibly sad for the woman on the couch.

That is, until a hex zinged past his left ear, narrowly missing it by a hair.

"Bloody hell!" He shouted.

"Ronald?" Fleur asked, confused. "Vat are you doing? Wait – tell me you 'ave not been zere, zis entire time…."

He walked into the light, sheepishly. "Oy! I'm sorry, Fleur. I accidently caught part of that block of instruction, and there was no good time to excuse myself…"

Fleur shook her head, annoyed. Ron was surprised she did not jump up in a fit of rage. The silence that sat between them was uncomfortable, and was broken when he gingerly put his hand on hers.

"I 'spose I should be more upset, really, that you fancy Hermione, ay? But…I think I knew it, deep down, all this time. The two of you have always had this weird connection, y'know? "

"I know." She said, sadly.

"Why in the world would your mother force you into this? It's so..fucked up!" Ron said, angry for her.

"For ze same reason William will lose his inheritance wizout an 'eir, Ronald. He is also ze first born. Ze laws in France are not zat different from England."

"But you don't love him!"

She paused, regarding him, cooly. "Perhaps non, Ronald. 'owever, I care about him a great deal. Because of his lythancaprotpy, the human side of 'im is not so affected by my thrall. He is ze first man I have ever 'ad an intelligent conversation wid, without 'is eyes going vacant."

Ron cast his eyes downward, knowing he was one of the worst.

Fleur chuckled. "Ronald, your eyes never became vacant…althozgh you did turn a lovely shade of purple, in zee beginning, non?"

"I'm sorry, but I keep coming back to the fact that Hermione is your rightful mate. I mean, I'm no scholar, but Hermione taught us a lot about Veela, during our fourth year. I think I recall her saying, if you find your mate, and let them go…" He paused.

"…we will die. Oui. Il est vrai."

Ron let out a low whistle, as he ran his hands through his hair. "And what she was saying…how weak will it make you, to heal 'Mione?"

Fleur shrugged. "I do not know, Ronald. There is no way to know. But really, what choice do I have? If she asked me for my head, my heart, my eyes…I would have to give it to her." She looked at Ron, with pained eyes. "I 'ave no choice! She is my…mate."

Fleur struggled to get the last word out. It hurt, tremendously, to make it real by saying it, aloud.

He nodded, handing his wand to Fleur, handle first.

She looked at him, confused. "What iz zis, Ronald?"

"My wand, Fleur."

She rolled her eyes. "I am aware of zat! I am asking…why?"

He looked at her knowingly. "Because, Fleur, you know that this knowledge cannot be shared, especially the Veela traditions. Even if I mean well, I could be tortured, or something. You know what you have to do."

She looked at him with a new respect.

"And you are giving me your wand, so zat zere are no residual echos to be traced to mine, I take it."

"Well then. Look who's finally with the program!" He grinned.

She lifted her arm, to cast the spell, when he raised his arm to halt her. "Fleur, wait!" He looked at her, chewing his lip. "I …. I don't know if its possible, but if you can somehow leave the fact that you're …you know, "weakened," by doing this for Hermione, I would really appreciate it."

"Why? Are you planning to duel me, Weasley?" She said, eyes joking.

He looked at her, seriously. "You're mental, Delacour!" They both laughed. "No, I just think…even if its in my subconscious, it would be nice if someone knew you're not up to your prime…for some reason. Please."

She nodded, raising her arm to cast the inevitable spell. It came out in lilting tones, as Fleur Delacour cast her spell at Ron, using his own wand.

"Obliviate."

XOXOXOOXOXOXOXOX

It took a full four days. Four days, Fleur pressed against Hermione, murmuring the Veela incantation. Hermione's body shuddered, racked with pain, the first day. Harry wept, openly, hearing her pained cries. It led to Bill casting a silencing charm across the room, for which Fleur mouthed a silent "thanks" to him.

Ron was pacing, angry.

"I'm going to fucking kill that blood bitch, that pure blood maniac, someday! The torture never ends, for 'Mione! And its killing Fleur, to have to heal her, that damn Bellatrix Lestrange!" He growled.

Bill looked at him, curiously. "And you know that, how?"

Ron looked at him, confused. "I thought everyone knew that – its how the Veela heal people!"

Bill shook his head. "Blimy, Ron…I'm marrying one, and I didn't even know that!"

"I guess you better get your priorities sorted, then, shouldn't you bro?"

XOXOXOXOX

By the fourth day, Hermione was herself again.

By the fourth day, Fleur was exhausted, and pale white.

Hermione was now comforting her. Despite the fact Hermione had fully recovered, they remained naked, pressed against each other. Hermione was running her fingers, through Fleur's gorgeous silver white hair, enjoying the feel as the strands slipped through her fingers. She enjoyed the tiny shudders that ran through Fleur with her gentle touches, caressing her scalp, even more.

Truthfully, when they had a loss of contact, when one had to use the loo, or Fleur went to get them food downstairs, Hermione felt such a well of emptiness, it was pathetic.

So she stayed, nestled in Fleur's arms, both without clothing, lying skin to skin.

"Fleur…" She sighed. "Why…why does it feel so good?"

"What, ma belle?"

"This. Us. You…holding me, I guess. All of this."

Fleur nestled in, closer, to Hermione, knowing their days were numbered. "Ah. It is just because of ze 'ealing properties zat my skin has imparted to yours, 'ermione. Zat is all."

"Liar." Hermione chuckled, kissing Fleur's forehead, absent mindedly.

Fleur tensed up, feeling the lips upon her forehead. Abruptly, she got out of bed, putting distance between them, and wrapping a robe around her body.

"I will go downstairs, now, a share ze good news zat you are 'ealed, save zat 'orrible marking on your arm…Harry and Ron have been itching to get back to your hunt."

Hermione nodded glumly, feeling like all of the air had been knocked out of her. "Okay, yes…fine. Thank you , Fleur."

"De rien." She said, sadly, as she headed downstairs, shutting the door behind her.

XOXOXOXO

Four days after that, the trio had loaded everything into Hermione's horrid pink purse with the flashy sequins. Fleur hated that purse, and everything it represented.

She had not been a stranger, exactly, in the past four days; but had she ensured that she and Hermione had little to no physical contact.

Fleur didn't trust herself.

As Bill and Fleur waved goodbye to the trio, Fleur headed back into the cottage, tears brimming from her eyes, while Bill watched his younger brother and his two best friends walk off.

When did we stoop to sending off children to fight the grown-up's battles? When did we stoop that low? He wondered to himself.

Hermione came to a standstill.

"Guys…wait here. There's something I forgot…I'll be right back. Don't move."

The two groaned aloud. It had taken forever to drag Hermione away, and it was almost lunchtime! They had lost so much time already, hunting for the remaining Horcruxes.

Hermione practically galloped back to the cottage, nodding to Bill as she ran past him.

She threw open the door, eventually finding what she had left, upstairs.

Fleur.

"What the-?" The started French witch said, eyes red rimmed with tears. "What are you doing here, 'ermione?"

"I forgot one thing…" Hermione said, quickly closing the gap between them. She pushed Fleur's shoulders down, causing her to tumble backwards, falling with her back on her bed.

Hermione was pressing against her, the entirety of her weight on top of the Veela, who's breaths were now erratic.

"'ermione…" Fleur moaned, her breaths shallow.

"Kiss me, Fleur. Kiss me goodbye."

"Non…ma belle. I cannot do zat."

"But….we've kissed before?"

"Zat was a long time ago, 'ermone. I am not in ze position to kiss you today."

"Oh…" Hermione said, eyes drifting to a picture of her and Bill on Bill's endtable. "I see."

Fleur shook her head, as though to clear her brain. Her expression was palpable, as the hurt was in Fleur's eyes.

"I will zink of you, every day. I promise you zat." Fleur said, closing her eyes, a tear running down her face.

"You can't kiss me, or you won't?" Hermione said, quietly.

"I … I just …" Fleur stuttered.

Hermione furrowed her brow. "Look, Fleur, we are going off into the belly of the beast, again. I may not be so lucky this time. And I would die a thousand deaths, if I didn't have one last taste of you, Fleur. I love you…and I always have." Hermione looked down at the beautiful witch, pinned underneath her. "Look, Fleur…I. Fleur… I'm going to kiss you, now…."

And with that, Hermione leaned down, and planted a kiss for the ages, on Fleur's lips, until she heard the boys calling for her downstairs.

"Goodbye…" She whispered, standing up, tears flowing down her face.

She looked like she was going to say something, but changed her mind. She turned, and headed out the door.

That would be the last time Fleur would see her, until the Battle of Hogwarts, a few months later.

TBC