Hermione was flying high above a battlefield. Even at this elevated distance the stench of blood, entrails and death was overpowering in her sensitive nostrils. She scanned the ground below looking for any sign of her quarry. She noticed movement by the lakes edge and dove down, her giant wings stretching out to their fullest potential to cushion her landing. She pressed her belly low to the ground and slowly stalked forward, ears flat against her skull and nose raised slightly trying to catch a whiff of whatever it was she had seen. She huffed slightly in irritation that she could only pick up the scents of blood and decay. As she reached the edge of the tall grass and peered closely at the now visible prey and realized it was nothing more than a fox patronus guarding its dead wizard. Just as the silvery creature began to fade it turned its face up to the sky and let out a mournful howl before blinking out of existence.

Padding forward, she glanced down at the deceased wizard. She was staring into the familiar eyes of Seamus Finnigan. His throat had been ripped out and deep slashes crisscrossed his chest; his hand still wrapped tightly around his wand, even in death.

Hermione woke with a start, heart hammering away in her chest and sweat dripping down her neck. She leapt up and bolted for the bathroom, barely making it in time before the bile made its way up her throat. Once her stomach was finally empty she stood and dunked her hands under the sink, bringing the water up to her mouth to rinse out the vile taste that was lingering. She splashed the cool water over her face and mentally chastised herself for forgetting to take a dreamless draught before heading to bed. Doing her best to push the revolting image of a dead Seamus out of her mind, she stepped into the shower. She couldn't dwell on the nightmare when she was due into work in a few hours and if she was honest with herself, she didn't have the intestinal fortitude to try regardless of her work schedule. She had seen enough death to know dwelling on it didn't do anything but lead to more nightmares.

She took her time in the shower, letting the hot water work the tension out of her muscles. Her thoughts drifted back to the events of the previous night. So much had happened in the past year and Fleur's unexpected arrival was a stark reminder of that. She wasn't naive enough to believe she was the only one that had changed over the past year. The lack of a wedding ring on Fleur's finger was evidence enough of that but when she mulled it over she doubted that the remaining survivors of the war had changed as much as she had.

It's been said that time heals all wounds but most days she felt as if hers were infected. Just like a septic cut, she was messy, uncomfortable in her own skin with the ever present pain lingering beneath the feverish surface. It kept her on edge and made her feel unstable. There were days where she couldn't even control her magic. She recalled the first time it had happened, when she had, thankfully, been in a cabin down in Costa Rica with no one around for miles. She had been pensive that day and her unbidden thoughts had once again landed on her time with Bellatrix. As she paced in front of the cabin where she was staying she realized that the entire cabin was destructing and reconstructing itself magically which only amped up the anxiety she was feeling. It had taken her two hours to calm down enough to get the cabin to stay in one piece. It was then she realized she had to stop ignoring what she was feeling and address it in some way, even if it was a roundabout approach.

At first she had tried to do as much magic as possible, attempting to drain her magic core completely. When that didn't work she finally took to brewing potions to bind her magic. It had taken months of trial and error, but she had finally concocted a potion that allowed her to diminish her magic, but not block it entirely. Maybe that was why they'd had such a hard time finding her. Maybe the locator spells were attempting to track her magic and it was too weak of a signal. She'd have to discuss it with Fleur.

When the water began to run cold, Hermione stepped out of the shower and dried herself off before wrapping the towel around herself and heading into the bedroom. Glancing at the clock she realized she had only slept a couple hours. With extra time to spare, she figured she should grab some lunch for herself and Fleur. She quickly brushed her hair and threw on a pair of khaki shorts with a skin tight wife beater and flip flops. As she glanced back at the veela sleeping in her bed she was equal parts aroused and annoyed. She really was gorgeous. Anyone could see that. Beauty and brains…the complete package. If only she wasn't so pretentious. Shrugging away her inner monologue she crept out of the bedroom, careful not to wake the sleeping girl.

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Fleur woke up to an annoyed meow. As soon as she sat up, Crookshanks proceeded to circle around the pillow she had been on before curling up and giving her a look that clearly said "piss off, wench". She headed into the living room, blinking a few times to clear the sleep from her eyes and looked around for Hermione. Glancing out at the patio she realized she had slept the day away and Hermione must have already left for work. She noticed a piece of paper with her name on it and grabbed it off the counter.

Fleur,

There's a sub for you in the fridge. I wasn't sure what you liked so I went with a turkey club. If you feel like coming down to the bar before you head home, I've left instructions on how to get there. It's just a few blocks away and you should be able to find it easily. If you do decide to come, I've left some clothes for you on the dresser. You'll sweat your tits off in the outfit you've got on.

Hermione

Fleur sighed to herself as she realized that this was going to be much harder than she had anticipated. One way or another, she had to get Hermione back to London with her. So far this trip had left her with more questions than answers. Even her veela was giving her grief, although if she were honest with herself, that was nothing new. The veela had been pissed off at its human counterpart since she married Bill. It was content to wait for its true mate, while she had wanted a normal, human relationship without all the pretense involved. She had quickly realized that there was no ignoring or silencing that part of herself and when push came to shove, the veela had won. Fleur mentally berated herself for allowing her thoughts to head down such a melancholy path and decided to eat and get ready to meet with Hermione. Somehow, some way she was going to convince the stubborn girl to see reason and face this prophecy head on.

A short time later, Fleur was stood outside the bar that Hermione had told her to meet her at. The door was propped open and it was absolutely packed inside. She'd never seen a pub like this before and felt more than a little out of her element. With a bit of trepidation, she made her way inside and was greeted by a wall of people. All eyes were on the bar and she quickly noticed Hermione and another girl (a coworker if the similar attire was any indication) were dancing on the bar. Both girls were on their knees, legs spread wide, bodies rolling sinfully while they sang along to the song. "I love rock'n roll, so come an take your time and dance with me"

Towards the end of the song Hermione hopped off the bar and made her way towards Fleur, who finally realized she was gaping at the girl like an utter fool. When she was within reach, Hermione grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the bar, weaving between the numerous patrons. Hermione shouted to her over the music "I get off in an hour or so. Drinks are on me, so what'll it be?"

Fleur glanced around and deciding she needed some liquid courage requested a firewhiskey. Hermione shook her head and grabbed a bottle pouring her a hefty portion. As she reached for the glass the girl leaned in and whisper shouted in her ear, "This is a muggle bar. Order Fireball, it's the closest thing to it." Fleur nodded in understanding as the girl turned and began to help her other customers. Fleur settled herself against the bar and was content to observe her friend in awe and if she was honest, a little bit of jealousy.

Hermione, being a muggle-born, seemed completely comfortable in this non-magical world. She laughed and joked with her customers, flirting with some and doing shots with others. Her cheeks were flushed, either from the heat or the booze, Fleur couldn't tell which. Her tank top was damp with perspiration and her hair stuck to her neck in some places. Fleur wanted nothing more than pull her hair to the side and taste that salty flesh, to mark it as hers. Her veela purred in agreement and as Hermione walked over to refill her glass, their eyes met. Despite the loud patrons and even louder music all Fleur heard was her veela proclaim "She will be ours. Ours alone."

Fleur couldn't agree more.