Shortly after noon, the young witch woke from a restless, dreamless sleep. The last few hours she had spent thrashing around on the four-poster, haunted by nightmares. In her sleep she cried out names. Gabrielle, violated and murdered, just like everybody else at Beauxbatons a month ago when the Death Eaters had raided the school; their parents, killed when their ancestral home had been set ablaze while they were sleeping; Viktor, tortured to death by his own schoolmates when he refused to take the mark, and now Bill, her husband, the father of their unborn child. She relived each and every death, each and every moment of horror, and only a short while ago, completely worn off and exhausted by her torments, did she manage to doze off, giving her body and mind some well-deserved peace.
She sat up straight on the bed, at first completely unaware of where she was and what she was doing. She could feel her clothes and the bedlinen soaked with her own sweat; she squeamishly grimaced at the thought how she must be smelling right now. The thought of having just lost her beloved husband, however, suddenly made all her earthly problems look minuscule and she knew it would take a very long time before she could properly accept the fact that from now on she would have to walk the Earth all alone, without his handsome face, caring hands, gentle lips, the heart that had loved her so much.
With an unearthly smile on her beautiful face, she watched Bill, gently caressing his hair, his badly scarred face, as she was singing an ancient French song in her melodic voice, a sad song about two lovers that had been forced to part at the command of the king who fell in love with the girl.
Suddenly, a few well-aimed kicks at her intestines signalled her that her daughter was wide awake, and, as if conspiring against her, her stomach grumbled at the same time. Reluctantly letting go of Bill's hand and climbing off the bed, she produced her last sandwich from her rugsack and turned it around in her hand a few times. Frowning her brows, she contemplated her chances of getting any decent meal any time soon and went through her possible options.
First of all, she could try and get some food in Hogsmeade which was abandoned, now that all of the inhabitants lay dead on the battlefield. Fighting a short mental battle with herself whether or not it would be considered theft, she decided to nominate this as a reserve option.
She could have gone to the castle and visit the kitchens; one night she and Terry had sneaked there, consuming the entire profiterole stock of the elves, licking the cream and molten chocolate off each others fingers, faces and other body parts. Shrugging, she cast this idea away. She didn't know what would await her in the castle and she decided to put off this visit as long as possible.
Duplicating the sandwich using a Protean charm was not an option; being a highly complex one, it wasn't taught at Beauxbatons and the only person she knew of capable of performing it was Hermione Granger. She could try transfiguring the sandwich into something bigger and she was eager to try this option.
Pulling her wand, she murmured the incantation, but to her greatest dismay nothing had happened. Nothing, save the new colour of the bread, a rather vivid blue one. Thoroughly annoyed, she stamped with her foot on the floor and muttered "Finite" to reverse the incantation, but on contrary to her expectations the bread remained blue.
"Merde!" she cursed out loud, something she always refrained from doing, then flushed red and involuntarily looked around herself. Only then had she realized she was all alone and nobody had heard her.
"Merde, merde, MERDE!" she cried out again, her voice rising hysterically, her powers getting out of control for the second time today. Forcing herself to breathe in deep, she waited until the trembling in her legs had subsided to a bearable level and walked up to the fireplace. The fire – induced by her Veela powers – was still burning and she decided to make some tea. She conjured a small pot and filled it with water using a simple "Aguamenti" charm, then fished out a teabag from her sack; being married to an Englishman she took over a few English customs, although she still preferred her croissants-et-cafe breakfasts.
While the tea was brewing, she wrapped half of her sandwich back, leaving only one of the disgusting blue bread slices on the table. With a wry grimace she bit off a small piece ans started cautiously chewing, ready to spit it out any moment. But the bread tasted only bread, so she ate the whole slice, then, conjuring a mug, she filled it with tea and sat back onto the bed. Slowly sipping the hot drink, she gently cradled her stomach; feeling the soothing presence of her mother's warm hands, the baby calmed down and went back to sleep.
Having finished her tea, Fleur summoned the parchment with the names and quickly rushed through the long list. She had found the bodies of the professors McGonagall, Slughorn and Flitwick not far from Bill; being the most powerful wizards at Hogwarts, they must have been trying to patch up the breach in the wards when they had been overrun by the attackers' hordes.
Curiously, she hadn't found any other Weasleys in the list, nor had she seen Harry, Hermione or the Lovegood girl, which gave her a faint hope that they might have survived the battle and were hiding somewhere out there. She knew she had to make sure, she had to find them, dead or alive, before she would take her husband home.
Standing up in one deliberate movement, she summoned her powers and put out the fire, then packed her scarce belongings and put on her travel robe. Casting a last, longing glance at her husband, she closed the door behind herself. With a few effective wand movements, she reinforced the wards around the Shack; human wards interwoven with Veela magic and she smirked inwardly. Any visitor attempting to get closer than five feet would be welcomed with some rather nasty surprises before his body was reduced to a small, neat pile of ash. In the hope that any of her Hogwarts friends managed to survive, she keyed their names into the wards, should they seek refuge here; she knew this place was holding a rather sentimental place in Harry's heart.
Somewhat refreshed by her miserable parody of a lunch, she decided to check on the castle and returned to the spot she'd found Bill. With her highly developed senses she could easily identify the exact location of the breach in the wards and, hesitating only the tiniest bit, she stepped inside.
All of a sudden, the noises of the forest, the singing of the birds died down, the sunshine became paler; she could feel a warning, tingling sensation in her neck, the living proof the wards were still very much in place. Driven by sheer curiosity, she picked up a small twig from the ground and threw it randomly where she thought the borderline of the wards would be. She flinched only a little when her ears captured a sudden, loud humming and saw the twig being incinerated and turned into a few molecules of ash; she shivered involuntarily imagining what these wards would do to a living being.
Picking up her pace again, she moved towards the entrance. The nearer she drew, the stronger she could feel a horrible stench, the smell of something burned, the smell of a fire that had been roaring here destroying everything on its way not so long ago. Her enchanted quill emotionlessly noted the names of the defenders whose bodies she had come across on her way.
"Sinead Finnigan" Looking at the redheaded girl's tiny body, Fleur wouldn't have given her more than twelve years. Then she realized she must have been Seamus' little sister he had been so proud and protective about and sadly shook her head to get rid of the knob in her throat. Gently arranging the girl into a more natural position, she closed Sinead's eyes and moved on.
"Pansy Parkinson" The name was faintly familiar and she tried to remember who Pansy could have been. Wait a second, wasn't she in Slytherin? Good God, they're murdering their own now! Driven by momentary curiosity, she checked the girl's forearm and was only slightly surprised by not finding the Mark on her pale skin.
The steps before the entrance were scattered with bodies. A fierce fight had been going on here, she concluded; the defenders of the castle were determined to hold ground even being hugely outnumbered.
Sitting in an unnatural position against the castle wall, their glassy eyes accusingly staring at the intruder, were Draco Malfoy and Ron Weasley.
The startled Fleur, at first, checked Draco's forearm and when she found the Mark, she wanted to dispose of the body as she did with the bodies of the other Death Eaters. The very last second, however, before pronouncing the last word of the incantation, something came up in her mind and she broke off, muttering a quick "Finite". Something was just not right about the situation. They didn't seem to have died fighting each other, rather like they'd died fighting side by side, against a common enemy.
Kneeling at Ron, she held his rigid body to herself, resting her forehead against his shoulder and mourned him, letting her tears flow abundantly. The always hungry, always funny, sometimes insensitive boy, her youngest brother-in-law now lay here lifeless, another victim of the horrible battle, another young life broken. She closed her eyes so that she wouldn't have to see his eyes asking the silent question "Why me? Why us?" when a sudden feeling hit her with the force of a steam locomotive.
Barely blocking a Reducto, Draco ducked on the ground, sending a golden jet of light into the vampire approaching the seemingly easy prey. He nodded satisfied, seeing the undead turn into a small heap of grey ash. Then he saw a shadow with bushy, brown hair reach out with a small hand and pull him up.
"Granger, what are you doing here?" he asked, not believing her eyes, quickly letting go of her hand.
"You are very welcome, Malfoy," spat the girl back, spinning around and casting an "Imperio" at the Death Eater who had just attacked Draco. She directed his wand against a small group of Death Eaters trying to catch them between two fires and soon two more attackers went down at his two Killing Curses before a green jet slammed into his chest.
"Cease fire!" The commanding voice, enhanced by a "Sonorus" charm startled the fighters at both sides. "I said 'Hold it!' Rodolphus! My own son is there!" The owner of the voice pointed his wand at one of his cronies and the other man, unwillingly, lowered his wand as well.
"Your own son is a traitor fighting on their side, Malfoy!" he spat back with venom.
"I will make that out myself, thank you very much," filtered Lucius Malfoy the words slowly through his teeth. With a slow, yet clearly visible movement he pocketed his wand and made two steps towards the small group of defenders.
"That will be nasty..." muttered Draco under his breath to the others. Turning around to Ron and Hermione, he cast a questioning glance at them. "Can you cast wandlessly?" The two silently nodded, not really understanding what he was up to. Draco relaxed and wrought a smile on his face. "On three then, the strongest you've got."
"What are you doing, Draco?" Hermione demanded, grabbing him roughly by his arms. "You're barking mad, he'll kill you."
"Granger, you don't know my precious father. He may have beaten me up but he is too big a coward to curse his own son. You just make sure you cast those spells and I'll be fine," he answered calmly, gently removing her hands from his arms. Nodding to the two, he made a hesitating step towards his father.
"One..." Hermione counted in herself. Drawing a few deep breaths trying to relax, she reached to her magical core, mentally picturing the Reductor she was going to cast.
"Draco, leave this instant. I will deal with you later. Move!" Lucius ordered, stepping closer and adding a magical edge to his voice. Almost as good as an Imperius Curse against the weak-willed, but Draco only smirked.
"I don't think I will be doing that, Father," he spat out the last word with clear disgust. "See, from the moment you'd roughed me up in the middle of Diagon Alley just because I refused to torture that Hufflepuff girl for your pleasure and left me half-dead there, things have changed. It wasn't any of the oh-so-superior Pureblood families that had taken me in and not my own mother who had nursed me back to life; it was Molly Weasley who sat seventy-two hours beside my bed. It was Hermione Muggleborn Granger who brewed the potions to cure me and it was Ron Weasley who said 'Welcome back, mate' when I regained consciousness. So," now he smiled with an honest smile, "my real family, the only people that had ever cared for me, are here and I'm not leaving them, surely not with you."
"You leave me with no choice, cub!" Lucius roared, his hand slowly crawling towards his pocket, but Draco still kept smiling. His smile taunted, teased the Death Eater, who couldn't understand his son's apparently stupid, reckless behaviour. Still, he was determined not to let anything or anybody harm him.
"Two..." Ron whispered, sharply exhaling. He wasn't sure his wandless magic was strong enough for the "Diffindo" he had imagined casting, but he was determined not to let his two comrades down. Moreover, he just had a brilliant idea but he needed his wand for it; he just hoped his first curse would cause enough trouble to give him that fracture of a second to summon it.
"That's just it, Father," Draco stopped five steps away from him. "You left me with no choice either other than to die; I was given a second chance by those, whom I always thought my enemies and I'm going to make a really good use of it."
"Enough of it. Imperio!" Lucius drew his wand in a swift moment and pointed it at his son. "Now kneel!" Screeching his teeth, Draco obeyed and slowly lowered himself on his knees. "I don't think you have realized your position. The orders of the Dark Lord were simple. Kill everybody, take no prisoners. I'm already risking my head by trying to talk sense into your stubborn, stupid head. Now move out of my sight and let me deal with your precious friends. Go..."
Then many things happened at once. Draco swiftly jumped up from his kneeling position, shaking off the Imperius Curse, and summoned his wand, firing the strongest Stunner he could muster at his father. Caught full frontal by the red jet of light, Lucius flew back a good twenty feet, with a loud thump landing against a tree, his spine snapping in an instant.
"Three!" yelled Hermione and thrust out her right hand, pouring all the accumulated magical energy into a single Reductor Curse, sending it into the Death Eater standing closest to her. With a surprised glance, the man looked at the gaping hole the size of a football in his chest before he collapsed dead. At the same moment, Ron cast his 'Diffindo' at Lestrange, neatly severing his head from his body and, summoning his wand, intoned clearly "Accio Death Eaters' wands!". Reaching out with his left hand, he captured the wands soaring towards him through the air.
Unfortunately Draco's wand was also summoned from his hand and the boy, who was busy raising a "Protego Maximus" shield big enough for the three of them, got distracted. While he was struggling with his wand, his shield collapsed the very same moment he caught up with the two. Heavily panting, he ducked besides them, to the relative safety of a nearby bush.
"What the fuck are you doing, Weasley?" he barked, turning around and sending a curse into a second group of Death Eaters closing on them.
Apologetically smiling, Ron cast a shield with all four wands he was holding. "It's not my mistake that you were thinking 'Hey, fancy my new tattoo?' would be a cool pickup line, Malfoy. Let's get out of here. I've got an idea. Hermione, you know where the secret passage on the third floor is? The one that leads to Honeyduke's?"
The bushy-haired girl nodded, firing a "Lumos Solem" into a small group of vampires crawling upon them.
"Nice catch, Granger," smirked Malfoy, approvingly eyeing the girl who was holding her ground surprisingly well, much better than most of the fighters he had seen.
"Sometimes it does help to read your books and do your homework," she spat back, her eyes twinkling, her cheeks burning with the battle of fire.
"Hermione, Harry, my parents, Ginny and Kingsley went down that passage; they wanted to catch the Death Eaters between two fires. Hurry, go after them, we'll come after you in a sec. Tap the statue of witch with your wand, the password is 'Dissendium'."
"But Ron, I'm not leaving you here," the girl started to argue, but Ron wanted to hear none of it.
"No 'buts', Hermione; just do as I said and we'll be there with you in an instant. If it works out, we can drive them into the castle." Seeing her bursting out into tears, Ron drew her closer and captured her lips in a fierce kiss, not taking notice of the vomiting gestures Draco was making.
"I love you, sweetheart. Now go!" Gently, he pushed her away and the two boys stood up and released a firework of curses to cover her until she reached the relative safety of the castle. They saw her enter the building and ran after her, continuing to fire deadly curses into their pursuers, when an invisible force slammed into their chests smashing them into the castle walls, taking both lives in an instant.
Somewhat dizzy and light-headed, Fleur emerged from Ron's memories. She understood something or somebody wanted her to receive these memories and she understood she had just been given some clues, just enough for a slight chance to find at least a few survivors. Slight chance indeed; knowing those people she had never imagined them hiding out when the fate of the British Wizarding World was on the stake.
Not looking around in the castle, she darted up the stairs leading to the third floor. Effortlessly finding the statue, she muttered the password and the statue moved, revealing the entrance to the passage.
When she entered the narrow tunnel, a strong, scathing stench hit her nostrils. The air was tainted with an unknown, venomous substance; she understood that the same moment her stomach turned upside down and she violently vomited out her scarce meal. Inhaling sharply a few times, she cleaned herself off with her wand and applied a "Bubble-head Charm" to keep the substance out of her lungs and moved slowly, carefully forward.
She wasn't even surprised to find the lifeless body of Hermione lying in the passage, about twenty steps from the entrance. She lay there peacefully, only her hands grasping her throat were telling Fleur how she had died, in a desperate fight for a breath of fresh air, before whatever poisoned the air had killed her. The Veela silently cursed Heavens; this beautiful, talented, young witch should have become her sister-in-law, should have loved and been loved, should have lived her life instead of lying here dead on the cold, indifferent stone. A few steps further she found Kingsley's body and beside him, leaning against the wall, Ginny and Harry, holding each other tight in a last embrace.
From all tragedies seen today, the sight of this young couple what the one that had shaken Fleur most. Apart from Bill, Ginny was the very Weasley she'd loved most; on her wedding Ginny was her maid of honour and they'd spent countless nights together planning Ginny's own wedding. Even though Harry had never really openly admitted his feelings towards her; never asked her hand; everybody in the extended Weasley family was sure it was only a question of time before he'd see reason.
Now it would never happen, Fleur thought, being overwhelmed again by her emotions; she fell on her knees next to the young couple and hugged them against herself. Numb from all pain, the loss of all people she'd ever loved, she could cry no more; she only silently rocked back and forth on her knees, holding the two youngsters tight, completely losing her sense of time.
Gently untangling the embrace of the two, she laid Ginny on the floor, closing her hazel eyes. Those eyes will never twinkle when they catch sight of Harry, they will never laugh at him; that fire had been put out forever.
Turning back to Harry, Fleur realized the position he was sitting. His left foot was twisted under him in an unnatural angle, and on the floor lay a makeshift staff he must have been supporting himself with while walking. An injury, most probably a fracture he must have sustained in the Battle, she thought, and very carefully laid the boy on the ground, adjusting his injured leg back into normal position.
She emitted a high-pitch yell when the fist roughly grabbed her cloak, only to release it a second later.