Dear Reader,
This one's shorter than the last two, but they were getting absurdly long! Possibly a half a cup of tea or half a pint chapter. Enjoy! As always, feedback and your opinions are highly valued.
That evening found Hermione hidden in her room, making a poor attempt at translating Beedle. She was slumped miserably against the wall, feeling as though every single one of her ribs had been broken again, the better to pull her heart from her chest. She curled against her pillow and tried to forget the agony on Fleur's face, the longing and desire written plainly there. She felt as if she'd stumbled into a snare, one where her heart and mind had been caught by Fleur's kindness and beauty. She could think of nothing but Fleur and it was driving her to distraction. She couldn't close her eyes but she'd be there. She couldn't let her thoughts drift for they inevitably swept up on her shores. As much as she tried to move her attention, some part of her was held firmly.
It might be time to start gnawing limbs off.
It was as though she had been bewitched, she mused. Could she be reacting to Fleur's veela blood? She trusted that Fleur hadn't set out with seduction in mind, but what if she'd unconsciously done something? Hermione mulled that thought in her head for a while, unsure. She didn't feel bewitched. She felt out of control, which was not a common occurrence regarding her feelings, and she found that she detested the sensation. But she didn't think she could blame it on some form of veela magic. After all, she'd seen the effects of veela bewitchment; people became very passive and quiet, biddable even. She didn't feel anything like that, if she were honest with herself.
She thought of Ron then, remembering his ridiculous behaviour at the World Cup and in Hogwarts. The thought was jagged and painful, almost causing her to withdraw from it. What a fickle creature she was! She'd been pining after Ron for the best part of a year, if not two, and now this? But it wasn't simple. Her feelings for Ron had shattered when he left the tent that night, leaving her feeling small and foolish for ever having trusted him with something as important as her love. Even though they'd been doing better in the weeks before being captured, something fundamental had shifted. She didn't feel the same about him as she had.
She knew it was unkind, perhaps even cruel, but she couldn't bring herself to fully trust him again. She'd forgiven his abandonment, slowly and almost grudgingly, but she'd never forget. If he was willing to walk away from something so important as their mission, how would he act in a relationship? Would he bolt at the first sign of trouble? After the first proper row?
Besides, if she were very honest with herself, the thought of him had never thrilled her like the thought of Fleur did. Her feelings towards him had indeed changed but she knew that she'd never felt like this about him. What she felt for each of them seemed as different as night and day. Parts of herself that she'd only grudgingly accepted as her own now sang out, alive and vital around Fleur.
She rolled onto her belly and pressed her face into the pillow. She really couldn't go down those lines of thought.
Instead she imagined what Ron would do if he found out about how she felt for Fleur. Would he leave them again? Would he end their friendship? Would she break his heart the way hers had? She knew he cared for her, perhaps even loved her. She didn't know what to do about it, though, and was very reluctant to make an attempt to resolve the situation. Thankfully, Ron seemed to feel the same and had left her more or less to her own devices since they'd arrived at the cottage. She had a notion that their relationship was going to get worse between them before it got better and didn't have the energy to open that can of worms.
Miserable, she barely noticed the door open to admit Luna. The blonde was humming to herself, happy in her own company as ever she was. She smiled brightly at Hermione, though it quickly faded when she saw the expression on her face.
"Are you all right?" she asked, frowning. It was strange to see Luna frown; her eyebrows were almost white and very fine. Fleur's were quite pale too, Hermione realised, but better defined and thicker. She groaned and buried her head in her pillow. She was a woman obsessed, apparently.
"I'm not, Luna," she admitted. "I'm really bloody not."
"That's understandable," Luna said, kindly. "You're planning this dreadfully dangerous raid on Gringott's-"
"How do you know about that?" Hermione demanded, lifting her face. Luna merely blinked at her, then gave her a stern look.
"It's not been hard to figure out, Hermione. But you're not scared of all that, are you? You're miserable because you're lovesick."
This time, Hermione jumped up off the bed and shook her head. "I absolutely am not! Not even in the slightest! I mean, that's the most preposterous thing I think I've ever heard and given some of the things I hear, that's saying something!" she said throwing her hands up. "I mean, it's ridiculous! Outrageous!"
"But that doesn't make it any less true," Luna said, gentle, her grey eyes wise and sad. "You call her name. You have done since the first night after you were healed."
Hermione felt as if everything inside her chest had turned to ice. She felt her breath leave her in a long gasp and sat down heavily on her bed. Her mind was blank, failing her utterly. Her heart was loud in her ears, erratic and desperate. "Luna, please don't say that."
"All right," she agreed, amiably. "I won't mention it again. But it's true, which is all I'll say on the subject."
It was like the moment after stepping into cold water, when it closed over your head and drowned your senses. Sounds came from far away but seemed amplified. Light flickered fitfully and her limbs seemed weighed down. Hermione shook her head and closed her eyes. Suddenly, it was real. Luna had called her feelings into being with her casually spoken words and submerged her in them. They had form now and substance that had been absent before. She was quiet for a moment, feeling her world shift underneath her feet.
She hung floating in the deep, denial and bluster on the tip of her tongue. She looked up at Luna's sad eyes and felt tears well within her own. She didn't have the strength to lie, to deny it when Luna obviously knew precisely what was going on.
"I don't know how this happened, Luna. I didn't want this to happen. I didn't go looking for it."
Surfacing, she felt tears build. She felt woozy and unsteady, as though she'd gone a long time without air. She closed her eyes and shook her head.
"I really didn't."
"I understand," Luna said, kindly. "But how? Well, you're both kind, intelligent women whom most people find a teeny bit grating on occasion," she blithely ignored the filthy look Hermione sent her way, "who found themselves in a hugely emotional situation. Both of your hearts were laid quite bare, I imagine. It's no great surprise."
"But Luna..." Hermione said, nervous and anxious though relieved to actually have someone with whom she could discuss the subject. But as soon as the relief welled within her, it was followed closely by terror. Now was not the time to bend a sympathetic ear! Now was not the time to delve for the truth regarding her feelings, so soon before they left. It was too late and too painful to try.
"Fleur is married to Bill, bonded for life. It doesn't matter what we feel." She poured all her battered authority into it, trying to recall her previous life as a prefect. It seemed so dreadfully far away. The finality sounded quite impressive to her ears, however, even as her chest ached.
Luna was quiet for a moment. "Bill and Fleur are a beautiful couple and they love each other very much. But Fleur was very young when she got married. What if they're not the ones for one another?"
Hermione digested that for a while. Fleur had only been twenty when she married and Bill was seven years her senior. Could Luna be right? Could they have rushed into it, caught up in the dervish of fin de siécle mania that so permeated the wizarding world? If they'd made a mistake, was it right to hold them to it? A tiny spark of hope lit in her, before she threw herself against it, smothering it.
"And Bill…" Luna said, softly. She was silent for a long time. "Bill is so very sad. He's a rare person, who carries his scars for all to see. But I think he has more that none of us can perceive."
Hermione could barely stand the thought of Bill, as it brought with it such deep, stinging shame with it. She turned back to Luna, desperate for this conversation to end. She opened her mouth to speak, but Luna beat her to the punch.
"Fleur cares for you, too. She got you your wand core, didn't she? She lay with you here and looked after you when you were so ill. She's devoted so much time to you and she seems so happy when she does. She lights up around you, Hermione. She's so much more beautiful."
Hermione found herself unable to speak for a long time. She sat remembering all the other things that Fleur had done for her that no one else knew about. There was no use denying that the other witch cared deeply for her. She'd heard the words from her own mouth and more than that, felt it within her in those quiet moments they shared. "I know she does. But I can't, Luna."
The pale witch stared at her with her piercing grey eyes, disappointment sitting plainly. "Then you have to forget about her. Close off the place in your heart that she lives in and move on. Which is horrible and I wouldn't advise you to actually attempt it."
You see. Someone else thinks you should be gnawing off parts!
Hermione was still, pondering that for a while. She felt raw, stripped bare before Luna's insight. It had caught her unawares, her friend holding a mirror to notions only half articulated. She'd made that mistake before, underestimating Luna's unique perspicacity. She suspected she'd never repeat the same mistake, after this.
Raw and exhausted, she slumped, holding her face in her hands. Her mind was tired and her soul sore. For a wild moment, she found that spark of hope flare again. Having someone else acknowledge, and approve, her feelings was powerful indeed. She felt as though she'd been given permission to imagine, for a moment, allowing herself to accept Fleur's plan.
"I've never even heard of two witches who actually, you know…" she said, lamely. "Is it even done?"
"I've known some men and women who prefer the company of their own sex," Luna said, shrugging. "It's changed now, with you-know-who in power… I don't really know. My father's brother lived with a lovely man named Tim for twenty years. But people have always said our family is rather odd." She tipped her head to one side, sorrow on her face. "But you need to decide for yourself, you know. You're already quite odd, so I'm not sure anyone will notice a little bit extra on top."
Hermione was about to respond when a shout came up from the kitchen. Both girls grabbed their wands and flew down the stairs, terrified of what they'd encounter. All thoughts of love and lies were banished from their minds, the door creaking shut as they fled.
Happily, the shouts had heralded the arrival of Remus Lupin with wonderful news regarding the birth of his son. Hermione had been utterly relieved to see no trace of the anger caused by the scene in Grimmauld Place. Lupin had been giddy, delighted and ecstatic. He'd made his way over to ask Harry to take on the role of Teddy's godfather and the delighted flush on her friend's face had been marvellous to behold.
Lupin had stayed for most of an hour before returning home to Tonks and Teddy. The rest of the inhabitants of Shell Cottage sat on, finishing the opened bottles of wine and getting ever so slightly tipsy. They'd laughed and joked, their spirits high in the wake of such wondrous news.
Hermione later found herself gathering empty wine bottles and goblets in the living room, still delighted and perhaps a little bit merry. She headed for the kitchen and was surprised to see Fleur standing outside the door, an impatient expression on her face. Spying her, the other witch lifted an eyebrow in invitation and they wandered into the parlour. Hermione followed, not quite knowing what to expect and uneasy with nerves. With anticipation.
"Well," Fleur said, "such a wonderful surprise. I cannot wait to meet young Master Lupin."
Hermione sighed with relief. So, they weren't going to revisit their earlier chat. She felt edgy, though, still anxious. "I can't either. He sounds lovely. It's so odd to think though, Tonks a mum."
"Indeed," Fleur agreed. "I suspect she'll be as much of a handful as her son. I imagine Remus shall be the keeper of order and sanity in that house."
Hermione laughed, relieved to be talking about such a happy subject. She still didn't really know what to say to Fleur and her conversation with Luna had only confused her. She sighed, squeezing her eyes closed. There was so much she wanted to know, to understand, but she had no idea where to start.
If only we had more time.
"Fleur, I don't think we're coming back, after we go," she said, sadly. She didn't want Fleur watching for them or worrying when they didn't return. The thought that they wouldn't be coming back after they departed made her feel so lonely, as though she was giving up something that once relinquished, she'd never reclaim.
"I know," Fleur said, sorrow in her bright eyes. "Bill has already given Harry his old tent. Please don't judge him too harshly for not washing it." She cracked a little smile at Fleur's attempt at humour. The tall witch dipped her head, averting her eyes and clenching her jaw for a moment, obviously upset. "I wish you all would stay here. I wish you did not have to go and do this thing. I wish we could look after all of you."
Hermione knew she longed to add I wish I could look after you. She felt all the happiness of the evening evaporate as if it had never occurred. The wine she'd drunk felt thick and sickly in her stomach and acidic in her mouth. She heard the kitchen door open and saw Bill and Harry exit, an odd look on the latter man's face. He headed for the living room and Bill spied her and Fleur.
She was struck with a sudden fear and embarrassment and quickly turned her face away, grabbing some goblets and rushing to the kitchen. She heard Fleur call her name but ignored her, bustling to the sink.
She stood gripping the cracked porcelain, her knuckles white as she took several deep breaths. For lack of anything to do, she began scrubbing the dishes in the muggle manner, too nervous to use magic. Good god, how was she supposed to face the man? She was essentially having an affair with his wife!
Whatever notions you might have, you need to forget them. You're not going to help someone cheat on her husband.
It was agonising how much she wanted to, though.
It was late by the time Fleur made her way upstairs and while she was weary, she was in no mood to sleep. She had changed into her pyjamas, though, in preparation for some reading in the parlour. There was no sense in being uncomfortable, after all.
"She won't do it, you know," Bill said, closing the door after him and with folding his arms. Fleur sighed, watching his icy eyes. She knew he was upset and she didn't blame him. Why couldn't he talk about Teddy Lupin instead?
"So be it, then," she said quietly. "I've been researching enchanted armour, too… Perhaps I could charm her clothes. If there was more time..." She trailed off. There was no time left for them and she was foolish to delude herself otherwise. Hermione would spend another day in the house and then be gone from her life, walking into peril and danger. Gone perhaps to her death.
"Those things are unreliable at the best of times," Bill huffed, interrupting her morbid thoughts.
"I should have spent more time researching them," she said with regret. "But I was caught up in this, in Lily's theories."
Bill shrugged. He was silent, brooding as he stared at the carpet. Fleur heaved a sigh, rubbing her forehead.
"Bill…"
"It's not fair," he said, quietly. "I mean, I understand, you wanting to but… It's not fair."
Her heart ached for him, for his quiet grief. The thought that she was hurting him, of wounding him, made her feel about three inches tall. "I won't, Bill."
"You should, though," he said, bitterly. "Go ahead. Why shouldn't you? And all the rest, too! What's stopping you? I mean, apart from the fact that you're lying to her."
Fleur's hear thumped in her chest and anger coursed through her, briefly flaring before it boiled away. She knew that he was hurt and lashing out at her. He rarely did so and so she let it wash over her, not allowing her temper to get a head start on her common sense. But she didn't let it go unanswered, she was not one to take such things lying down.
"I don't know what else to do," she said, as calmly as she could. "I don't have anything else to pull from my sleeve! And I'm not lying to her."
"Just carefully omitting some pertinent details," he said, shaking his head. "You told me it was her choice but how can she choose if she doesn't know?"
Fleur was silent, feeling her frustration with him build. It wasn't her fault that she couldn't be entirely honest, after all, she thought with uncharacteristic bitterness. Her heart was sore and abraded with the conflict. She'd told Bill of her plan that afternoon, before speaking to Hermione, and he'd been appalled. He'd denounced it as folly but he hadn't been able to offer an alternative that would keep Hermione safe. After a certain amount of arguing, he'd agreed that it was a good way to keep her safe but he'd still found it to be unacceptable. They'd had to leave the conversation, both wounded and raw. But he'd agreed that he wouldn't stop her, which had been something, at least.
"Well, what should I tell her, then?" she asked, trying to be gentle despite her growing frustration. It wasn't Bill's fault that she was in this bind, it was her own, but she knew he'd find some way to blame himself.
"That you're not doing it?" he laughed. "I don't know. Fuck. I don't know. It's entirely up to you."
She felt her cheeks heat with anger. "That's not a truth, either. I made you a promise-"
"I know!" he barked, pushing off the wall and starting to pace. "I know," he said, more softly after a moment. "And I should be the bigger person here and release you from it, shouldn't I?"
Her heart softened at the fear and sorrow in his voice. Pathos gripped her and she went to him, putting her hands on his broad shoulders. The conflict in his voice was clear in his eyes, breaking her heart. "Oh Bill, I'd never ask that."
He looked miserable. "I'm sorry. I wish I was as brave as you but… I just don't want to lose it all, Fleur. I worked so hard and, and it was all starting to feel…"
"I know," she said, sadly. She sighed and let her head drop to lie over his heart. "None of us are very brave, right now." She curled against him, holding onto him and laying her face against his chest.
They were quiet for a while. Eventually, Bill sighed and wrapped his arms around Fleur, running a gentle hand over her hair. "I'm jealous, you know."
"Are you?" she asked, quietly. "Don't be. It's not an enviable situation."
"Still…" he sighed.
After a long moment, she closed her eyes. She set aside her anger with him for he'd raised a valid point. She'd not even considered the issue until he'd mentioned it and now she felt wretched. How could she have failed to consider the fact that Hermione could not, without knowing everything, make a wise decision? She'd convinced herself that Hermione was fully capable of making up her own mind but how could she, how could anyone, if they weren't in possession of the full facts?
See how close you came to utterly violating the trust between you. See what you really are.
"You are right. I can't do it. I can't lie to her. I told myself it would be her decision but how can she decide when she doesn't know?"
Bill nodded, settling his chin on top of her head. "She can't. You'd be taking that away from her. And she's so young, Fleur."
She frowned at that. She resented the implication there, that she was taking advantage of some naive and guileless young ingenue. Hermione was sensible and mature beyond her years and knew better than most the uglier side of human nature. If she hadn't felt Hermione capable of choosing for herself, she'd never have suggested it in the first place. Besides, while Bill was almost a decade older than Hermione, she herself was not. Sometimes, she felt Bill forgot the age difference between them.
"She is two years younger than I am and has grown up quickly."
"But she hasn't been out in the real world," he chided, gently. "You've finished school; had a job. Gotten married…"
"She is no child, if that's what you are saying. In fact, I think she is much wiser than I am."
Bill was quiet for a long time. "Who are you trying to convince?"
She felt it like a blow from a clenched fist. Was this what it was to break the foundations of ones idea of self? To find when tested, ones morals left much to be desired? To the extent that it became necessary to alter ones beliefs in order to justify behaviour? The idea left her shaken. She'd had more faith in her own moral fibre than that but had it been misplaced?
She pressed herself into Bill's chest, squeezing her eyes shut. So, when backed into a corner, this is what she became? Was she so twisted by the life she'd lived that this was the miserable result? Despair pressed against her, crushing her in a dark moment of self-pity.
Why can life not be simple, again? As it was when first we met?
"It is just so hard."
"I know it is, love," he whispered. "And I wish it wasn't."
Hermione found herself restless, unable to sit still for more than a few moments. She couldn't focus on a page to read or calm her racing mind. She knew it was a disastrous way to be, so soon before they left to continue their quest. She needed to rest while she still could, before her life plunged back into chaos and doubt. But her mind was wide awake and sleep seemed far away and utterly unnecessary.
Luna was lying in her bed, eyes closed, but she heaved a great sigh.
"You know, that's how I knew," she said, some humour in her voice.
"What?" Hermione demanded, jumping slightly at the sound of Luna's voice.
"The Giddy Bagorums. They only nest around people whose hearts are in turmoil. Or people with a decision to make. I'm sure you won't be surprised to hear that there's an enormous colony feeding off you, right now."
"Well," Hermione huffed, "at least I can prove helpful to someone, even if it is just to provide a source of nourishment."
"Don't be churlish, Hermione," Luna scolded, "it doesn't suit you."
She sighed. Luna was right; she was acting like a brat. "Sorry Luna. I might go and sit in the kitchen for a bit."
"Try some hot milk," Luna suggested, kindly. "It's the second best way to get to sleep."
Hermione was tempted to ask about the best way, but chose not to. With Luna, the answer could range from happy thoughts to opium. It was often better to leave such ideas alone.
On the stairs, she couldn't hear Bill snoring. She hoped he was sleeping on his side, rather than lying awake mulling the situation over in his mind. She felt dreadful for him and regretted her part in his pain not for her own sake, but because she genuinely liked Bill and didn't wish him any harm. Out of all the Weasleys, apart from Ginny, she found him the easiest to spend time with. His gentle humour and effortless kindness had soothed them all since their arrival. She hated the thought that she'd caused him to suffer.
She continued down the stairs and as she turned to enter the kitchen, noticed a light flickering from beneath the parlour door. She knew that it could only be Fleur or Harry, at such an hour, and given the four glasses of wine that Harry had imbibed, she doubted it was him.
Alone in the expectant quiet of the night, she felt something in her, urging her to go and speak to Fleur. Her mind had been ruminating on all that she'd said the previous day and she found herself with many questions. She'd expended so much mental effort on the emotional implications of the offer that she'd largely ignored the intellectual problems it posed.
It annoyed her, given how uncharacteristic of her it was. She found herself gripped with a sudden urge to understand the spell, to get her mind around the mechanics of it. Perhaps she could even find a flaw in it; some problem that once revealed, would render it useless. If a logical reason for refusal could be found, she wouldn't be so dependent on her horribly unreliable emotions. She could accept that she wanted to be Fleur's lover, but would be able to move beyond that. Her mind had always been her greatest tool and she'd be foolish to abandon it now after a little bout of emotional lability.
Resolved, she took a deep breath, mustering her courage, and knocked on the parlour door before entering. Fleur was seated at her desk, her back to the door. She lifted her head, turning and fixing Hermione with an intense gaze before standing up.
Goodness, she's tall.
"Hermione," she said, evenly, though it seemed to require some effort. "What has you awake at this hour?"
There was a meek optimism in those shining eyes and the temptation to reward that fragile hope was so strong that Hermione almost faltered. Her voice was robbed and she opened her mouth stupidly, dumbly. Frustrated with herself, she cleared her throat. She had to get a grip of herself.
"I had a few questions, Fleur," she said, her voice unsteady, "about the spell." The blonde nodded, nodding to the pair of armchairs beside the fire. She took her seat and regarded her thoughtfully. Hermione, despite the shakiness in her legs, remained standing.
"What do you wish to know?" Fleur asked, gently.
She closed her eyes. There was one answer she wanted above all else but it was so bloody embarrassing. She took a breath, knowing that if she didn't ask now, she'd never have another chance. "Why does it have to be sex?" she asked, the question rushing out, mumbled and slightly incoherent. Her cheeks flared hotly and it took a great effort to open her eyes and train them to Fleur's face.
Fleur considered the question carefully before she answered, inscrutable in the firelight. "I asked myself the same thing. I asked if there were not other moments I could give or other sacrifices to make. In truth, there is nothing else I can offer."
Hermione rubbed her forehead wearily. "I don't see why it matters so much. It's just… It's not the most important thing in the world. What's it really worth, at the end of the day?"
Fleur cracked a small smile at that. "Indeed, taken alone it has little meaning. I share your opinion but, and this is crucial, it is perceived as being important. It has currency. The most important thing in the world? It is not even the most important thing in a relationship!"
Hermione smiled at that, shaking her head ruefully. "I suppose not. Does the fact that it would happen once increase this currency?"
Fleur's face was shadowed and she took a long time to answer. "There is always value in rarity, in something that can happen but once. In an event that cannot be repeated; a gift that can only be given once."
Hermione tipped her head to one side. "But very few people only have sex once, my parents being a prime example," she said, wryly. "What I mean is, does this spell work because we promise not to repeat the act? Or… I don't understand."
Fleur drew a deep breath, rising from her seat and walking to set another log on the fire. She appeared ordinary and young as she stacked fuel on the fire in the muggle way. She dusted her hands off, sitting back on her haunches and looking into the flames.
"I made a mistake, I think," she said, causing Hermione to blink.
"What?"
"It is a foolish idea. My judgement was poor," she said, gazing into the fire. "I almost did a dreadful thing because I let my desire cloud my good sense."
Hermione felt her pulse hammer through her limbs. This was not what she'd been expecting, at all. "Fleur?"
"I withdraw my plan," she said, giving a humourless bark of a laugh. "I don't think we should try it."
Hermione felt relief and disappointment, both harsh in her chest. She was utterly confused, though. Is this what the boys felt like when dealing with girls, she wondered. The sudden about-face was baffling and while she was somewhat glad that they'd be putting the whole thing behind them, she understood this less than the original proposal.
"This is a turn around," she said, blushing. "Though, I should be getting used to those by now. I mean, you were all for it yesterday. What's changed?"
Fleur rubbed her face with both hands, looking very tired and slight.
"I was reminded of several things I had forgotten, or ignored."
Hermione leaned forward. "Reasons why it wouldn't work?"
Fleur shook her head. "That is the worst. It would work. I know I can confer protection upon you. But I can't."
Feeling completely thrown, Hermione watched Fleur carefully. The grief on her face was terrible to behold, her features contorted painfully. Confused but not wanting to see the other witch so distraught, she stooped to kneel beside Fleur, placing a hand on her elbow.
"I don't understand, Fleur," she said, feeling her frustration grow. "Why can't you? Would it endanger you?" If this was the case, she was going to be very, very cross indeed. Now wasn't the time for ridiculous heroics, not when they needed every wand for the coming war. Not when she truly didn't feel that she was worth anyone risking themselves over.
"No!" Fleur said, laughing again. "No. Oh, Hermione. No. It would not harm me. But Bill reminded me that it could hurt you." She turned damp eyes to her, regret and apology mixing there.
"What? How?" Hermione asked, taken aback. She doubted that Fleur meant that statement to mean that she'd put her in harm's way. Doubted it and needed to disprove it.
"Because there are things I cannot tell you," Fleur said, sitting heavily on the rug, turning and gazing into the fire. "I am not what you think I am. Who you think I am. If you knew, it would probably effect your decision. Hence… Well. That's the end, no?"
"Why not tell me, then?" she asked, heart stricken to see Fleur so unhappy. "It can't be that bad."
Fleur shook her head, tears gathering. "I don't know about that. But more to the point, it is not mine to tell. And so, I am caught in a bind! I swore to protect you but to do so…"
"Would break your promise," Hermione finished. She was astounded to see tears gathering in Fleur's eyes, her composure fading rapidly. She'd become accustomed to seeing Fleur's strength, her conviction and confidence, and seeing her so lost was strange indeed. She saw for the first time how worried Fleur was, how she feared the days to come as much as Hermione herself did. Compassion gripped her and her thumb moved over Fleur's arm in an attempt to comfort.
"I was going to lie to you, you know," she said, quietly. "In my head, the ends justified the means. And if it were just my soul, my heart to break, I'd do it in a second but it is not only me who stands to suffer." She met Hermione's gaze, eyes only slightly wavering.
"We must balance the benefits against the cost of such a thing. And it is unfair! On one side there is this protection, which could save your life. And what is more precious? But weigh this against lies and deception… About taking away your choice in the matter… I cannot bring myself, Hermione. If we chase these ends at the cost of doing the right thing…"
"We're no better than the enemy." Hermione finished. She was shaken, then. What kind of secret did Fleur hide? Was it to do with the veela? They were insular creatures and guarded their mysteries well. There was too much for her to take in, though. Fleur had considered lying to her? The other witch was weeping softly now, unable to look at her. Hurt bloomed in her chest at the mention of betrayal. Hadn't there been enough of that?
But she didn't.
She didn't. And now she was suffering.
Not knowing how to feel about this unexpected revelation, Hermione lifted a shaking hand and smoothed a strand of hair behind Fleur's ear. Tears rolled over the other woman's cheeks and her eyes slid shut, an anguished frown between her eye brows. It felt strange to be the one reaching out, to be the one providing comfort. She felt off-kilter, conflicted. She didn't know what to think but it was easy to reach out, to forget her own cares and attempt to soothe Fleur's.
"You're upset," Hermione said apologetically, "and it's my fault."
"No!" Fleur said, firmly, turning to face her, "no. Never yours, Hermione. Never think that."
They were silent for a long moment, staring into each other's eyes. Hermione's mind spun trying to imagine what secret Fleur could be hiding and could think of none; her mind utterly blank. But she held secrets too, though she could at least share hers with the boys. Did Fleur have such a confident? What weighed so heavily on her conscience?
"We all have secrets, Fleur," she said, sadly. "All have crosses to bear. Please don't let yours crush you. I mean, you've done so much for all of us. For me. Let me help you."
"You are helping," Fleur said, a smile wobbling onto her face, "just by being here. Just by being in my life. You give me hope for the future. That this world will improve."
Hermione sighed, turning to look into the fire. "I don't know about that. I'm not feeling too hopeful right now. And we're out of time." Regret bloomed in her. Even if she did wish to help, what use would she be in the time she had left? "I wish I could help you. But I don't know how to. I wish I could get to know you better, Fleur, that I could puzzle out what to do. How to make things better."
"You are, though."
There was a long silence. The fire cracked and snapped within the grate, filling the little room with a subtle scent. Hermione sighed sadly, confused and feeling completely useless to help. She looked up and felt her face fall with grief, unsure of what she could say; of what she needed to say. There was so much within her that she was worried that if she started, she'd never finish. So much had happened in such a brief period and she hadn't been able to sort through any but the most superficial of her thoughts. But she knew she needed to say something.
"I understand secrets. I hate them, but they are sometimes necessary, I have to admit. I, I just… You think it would change how I feel but I doubt it would, Fleur. There's nothing you could tell me that would make me feel differently about you. But," she floundered, not sure what to say, how to convince Fleur of her sincerity. "But I'm stubborn. Not one to change my mind easily. It's the same as how nothing you could tell me that would make me agree to your plan, even if you hadn't withdrawn your offer," she said, aiming for a bit of humour.
Fleur squeezed her eyes shut and her shoulders shook. She lifted a hand to her mouth, covering it in a valiant attempt to smother her sobs. Hermione was horrified. She'd never imagined Fleur, of all people, becoming so upset. Heart pounding with worry, she scooted forwards, in a bit of a fluster. She put her hands on Fleur's shoulders, attempting to soothe her. After a moment, she tugged the other woman into her arms, rubbing her back and whispering to her.
Fleur had been such a source of strength for her, in the previous weeks, that she offered her arms without hesitation. Whatever romantic complications they were heaping on the situation, she was Fleur's friend and would do what she could to ease her pain. It felt odd, though, to be the one offering succour. She ran a hand over her trembling shoulders, shushing her quietly. She was surprised that she still had enough of her old self left intact to do this.
Because she put you back together, you twit. And at what cost to herself?
It was odd, but oddly familiar too. As if this was something that she'd been born knowing. Fleur's sobs quietened and she loosened her grip. Hermione released her slowly, worried that she had no other way to help comfort the other witch.
Fleur pulled back, eyes red and raw with grief. "I feel as if I cannot speak, that anything I say will make a traitor of me," she rasped. "I'm sorry, for going to pieces. It is not like me."
"No! No, please don't apologise," Hermione said, releasing her fully. "Don't. You don't have to say anything if you don't want to."
"It is the only part of this in which you are at fault," Fleur said, conjuring a handkerchief and wiping her eyes. "You are too brilliant for your own good. For my own good. I… I am too clumsy with words." She blew her nose and Hermione had to suppress a small smile.
"No, no you're not," Hermione reassured her. "You're wonderful with words."
Fleur shook her head. "I'm sorry. I came so close to deceiving you…"
"But you didn't. You chose not to."
"Only after Bill talked sense into me." Hermione took that in, mulling it over for a second. She couldn't find any anger for the other woman and decided she was probably too tired for any. Besides, Fleur had chosen not to and that meant a lot to Hermione. It was one thing to feel an impulse and another entirely to act on it.
"Sometimes we all need a nudge in the right direction. It's easy to get blinkered."
Fleur sniffled and blew her nose again. Her eyes were bloodshot and her nose reddened. She looked younger than Hermione ever remembered seeing her, grief-stricken at her perceived failure.
"Are you all right?" Hermione asked, softly.
"I am. I am sorry. I ran ahead, offering you this plan without thinking it through. Without regard for the consequences. I was hasty and… And I'm sorry."
Hermione nodded. "I know. It's all right. I mean, I've heard a lot of mental plans in the last year. That one though, it took the biscuit."
Fleur managed a gruff chuckle. "I am nothing if not excessive in my ridiculousness."
Hermione laughed too. She straightened her back and set her hands on her knees, shaking her head.
"Right. I'm off to bed. Are you all right?"
"I am. I'm sorry for weeping on your shoulder."
Hermione rolled her eyes. If there was one of them who needed to apologise for that, it wasn't Fleur. She stood up and watched Fleur mimic her actions. It felt strange, to have their recent roles so completely reversed but sad, too. She saw for the first time, how much Fleur had taken on her shoulders. She sighed. If only…
"If you ever want to talk, Fleur… I know we don't have much time but, well… I'll always listen."
Fleur's eyes were shining in the firelight, sparkling with her usual spirit as she came back to herself. She fixed Hermione with a soft expression, wistful and regretful.
"If we survive this, if the world resumes its normal orbit, I promise you, I will tell you."
"All right. I can live with that."
