Hermione smiled as the heat from the sun baked the brown earth around her. Stalks of new, spring green grass tickled her skin as the wind blew across the hills. Somewhere in the tree tops, birds chirped their day to day calls.

Her head was resting on the warm ground beside Fleur's stomach. The blonde woman was weaving her fingers through the short locks of hair; her other resting lightly over her chest.

It was hard to believe that the county was at war with itself when they were like this; simply lying in the sun away from the hustle and bustle of the manor. But sales were low as people were only buying what was deemed absolutely necessary.

"Before I came here, I used to dream about a woman." Hermione's whispered. "I never did find out who she was, but I knew for some reason that she was waiting for me."

Fleur remained silent, a small smile blossoming on pink lips.

"I don't know when they started exactly," the brunette continued. "But I know that it was from very early on; and now ever since Ive been here, in France, they stopped."

The brunette sat up on her elbow, her gaze down on the woman below her. She brushed away a few stray hairs on the other womans cheeks, the warm skin felt like silk under her fingertips.

"Maybe she found what she was looking for." Fleur whispered back in her soft voice, face leaning into Hermione's touch.

"Maybe she did." The brunette agreed.

Hermione leaned down to brush her lips against Fleur's, their conversation forgotten. The brunette tugged at the blonde's lip with her teeth before smoothing over the bite with her tongue.


Sometime later the two eventually returned to the manor, their fingers interlinked. Fleur was laughing at something Hermione said when the brunette stopped dead in her tracks.

There, gathered around the barn, was a mass gathering of people. Black, inky smoke was erupting from the barn's windows; the smell of burning wood and hay filled the air. Sparks sprang fourth when the celling began to cave in, a cry of panic rang out from inside.

Hermione was speeding down the hill before she knew it, her feet pounding the ground beneath her. She completely ignored Fleur's cry of alarm as she pushed through the crowd of onlooking men.

No one stopped her as she dived headfirst into the blaze.


Inside the fire blazed around her, the smoke thick as she jumped over fallen beams. She coughed violently as she inhaled, her eyes closed tightly against the heat.

Hermione fumbled around for a second as all of the horses shrieked out their terror. The brunette rubbed her eyes as she stumbled forward in search of the closest animal. Harsh grunts and snorts directed the brunette to her left, close to a pile of burning beams.

She thrust her arm into the stall in search of the horse's halter rope. Her fingers grasped at thin air, forcing the brunette to fully enter the enclosed space.

Inside, she had to duck suddenly to avoid a swift kick to the head. Hermione clicked her tongue in an attempt to sooth the frightened animal. Her hands ran up the sweaty neck and clasped the halter around the large face.

Hermione coughed violently as she struggled to lead the horse from the burning barn. She kicked at the obstacles in their way; clearing a path for the others.

Fresh air greeted Hermione as she pushed past the collapsed front doors, the cries of astonished men echoed around her. Shielding her eyes, Hermione glimpsed the worried face of Fleur for only a second before someone came up to take the struggling horse from her hands.

Her feet moved of their own accord and she soon found herself back inside the inferno.


Hermione was struggling with Bernard; the heavy set horse being afraid of the flames that leapt around him. She had to duck every time he kicked out whenever a support beam collapsed and fell to the ground. His cries echoed in her ears; beating into her brain like a drum.

Overhead the ceiling groaned as it grew too heavy to support itself. Hermione wiped her head against her shirt sleeve, clearing her eyes of the sweat and soot that had gathered there.

"Come on Bernard," She tried to whisper. "Come on, we have to get out of here."

The giant behemoth refused and backed up more into his stall, pulling Hermione with him. The brunette refused to give up and attempted to bring the animal forward.

A falling beam crash landed somewhere beside the two and sent the horse rocketing forward in fear, knocking Hermione to the side and onto her back.

The brunette watched as Bernard jumped over a pile of burning wood and kick out against a support beam. The already weakened wood splintered and broke into two as it fell to one side; bringing with it the rest of the ceiling.

Hermione was quick to get up, but failed to see the heavy plank of wood falling just behind her. It crashed to the floor, taking out the walls of Bernard's stall, and pinned the brunette to the ground. The fire quickly made its way to her stomach, burning through the flimsy material of her shirt.

She screamed as the flames licked at her skin, but the roar of the fire drowned out any and all sound. Hermione pushed against the burning plank with her hands, not thinking about the extra damage this would cause.

Her world went dark just as the faint yells of men reached her ears.


She slept on and off; and at times would awaken in a sunny room alone. Sometimes Fleur would be there, reading a book or tending to her injuries. Other times it was either Harry or Ron, the two of them would sit for a few minutes and then look around the bare room.

At one point she even thought she was hallucinating.

She believed it to be a dream about Fleur, but at the same time it wasn't. The blonde was always alone when this dream happened, and there would be a fine dusting of feathers sprouting from her skin. Her eyes would be a very pale silver, and her hands were tipped with claws; the blonde would occasionally lick at a particularly stubborn burn and watch as it healed in seconds.

Hermione usually fell asleep again when this happened.

It wasn't until a few days had passed did Hermione fully awake from her coma like state. She was alone, and disorientated for a few seconds. The brunette's body braced itself as the onslaught of memories attacked her brain.

She remembered the men finding her underneath the rubble, badly burned but alive. All of the horses survived with minimal damage on their part. The brunette vaguely remembers Fleur dressing her wounds after applying various salves and healing creams to her skin.

Her musing was interrupted when the door opened suddenly. In came Monsieur Flitwick, followed by a runner boy. The short man's eyes lit up when he noticed that the person in the bed was awake.

"Ah, John! Awake at last I see." He gestured to the boy. " If you would please go and fetch Monsieur Malfoy."

The boy nodded his understanding before leaving the room.

"I take it that you sustained quite some damage, didn't you Monsieur Granger?" The older man ticked at her. "What with you running into that barn, I would be surprised if you hadn't."

Hermione was about to respond when the runner boy reappeared with a man that the brunette knew very well.

Monsieur Malfoy wasn't particularly handsome, but neither was he ugly. His straight blonde hair was neatly cut and brushed to one side. Slightly tan skin suggested that he spend more time inside then out, and his inspector uniform looked almost new. Pale blue eyes flicked all around the room before settling on Hermione.

"Now John, if you could answer a few questions for Monsieur Malfoy here, we can all go about our ways." Monsieur Flitwick said quite happily, his hands tucked into the pockets of his waist coat.

Hermione nodded as the inspector took out a pad of paper and a pen.

"Now Monsieur..." The inspector looked up from his paper to look at the brunette.

"Granger." She finished for him.

"Ah. Monsieur Granger." He nodded as he scribbled this note down. " That is not a French name, may I inquire as to where it is you came from?"

"Certainly." Hermione quirked back. "I was originally came from England."

"Would you mind if I have a look at your papers?" Monsieur Malfoy said offhandedly.

"Papers?"

"Your immigration papers, Monsieur." The inspector again looked at her from over his pad.

"I... I don't have any papers."