One of these days my chapter won't begin with a million apologies about lack of updates! Read and review if you're so inclined!
Eyes rimmed with red, Hermione slowly made her way down the stairs of Shell Cottage. Every step jarred painfully against her sore body, her bones ached.
The last step creaked to signal her arrival and Fleur, who had been staring absentmindedly through the window above the kitchen sink, turned to greet her.
"Feeling better?" she queried, a cup of coffee clutched in her hands. She looked tired and drawn as well, her smile somewhat pinched.
"Definitely." Hermione asserted. And she did to an extent. The nausea was gone, she was standing. Fleur gestured for her to sit down.
"I've just started dinner, it should be ready at seven or so. Would you like tea or coffee?" Hermione immediately realized how uncharacteristically hungry she was. She noticed the stove housed several bubbling pots and a delicious smell wafting through the kitchen.
"I would love coffee, I'm exhausted." Though Ron and Harry preferred tea, Hermione's French grandmother had ingrained in her a long-lasting love for a good cup of coffee.
"Cream, sugar, Firewhiskey?" Fleur fired off the additive options so quickly that Hermione almost missed the last one. She gave an odd laugh and Fleur gestured towards her own mug. "Not that I would have any of us turning into alcoholics, but it is rather calming."
"Why not?" Hermione asked rhetorically, watching Fleur add a healthy dose of the drink to her coffee, followed by a small spoonful of sugar.
"I always liked you Hermione," Fleur mused as she handed the cup to the girl, proceeding to take a seat at the table across from her. "Even though you were not very fond of me for quite some time," Hermione opened her mouth to interject, finding herself silenced by a wave of flippant Fleur's hand. "You're very smart."
"Er, thank you," Hermione replied, looking curiously at Fleur, who seemed to wish to continue, though she seemed lost in thought. In the meantime, Hermione sipped cautiously at her beverage. She looked through the window above the sink, off in the distance she could see two lanky men with red hair slowly making their way back to the cottage. Just near the grey water of the sea she saw Luna standing, Dean sat in the sand watching her.
"Harry dug a grave for the house elf, it's around the other side of the house. He's been sitting there since breakfast." Fleur stated flatly as a way of answering Hermione's unspoken question.
"Dobby's dead?" Hermione hissed, she felt a sharp pang of guilt.
"Oui," Fleur asserted, giving a small, sad shake of her head. "I remember you being very fond of their kind." Fleur mused sympathetically. Hermione bristled.
"It's not that I'm fond of them... their lack of rights as members of the wizarding community is disgusting," hearing how overly-indignant she sounded Hermione heaved a sigh. "And Dobby was always so… helpful. He loved Harry. And now it's our fault he's died." She grumbled, taking a long gulp of the spiked coffee. Fleur was watching her with a thinly veiled curiosity; Hermione couldn't help but feel as if she was under observation.
"Sacrifices are going to be made, those closer to you than Dobby may be casualties as well," Fleur couldn't help but notice as the younger witch's gaze drifted back out the window. "It scares me, having all these people I know so closely involved. All these people I love. And William…" the Frenchwoman's eyes had become glossy, though she blinked away any actual tears in what Hermione was sure was a very practiced routine.
Hermione, who had begun to stare rather diligently at the space behind Fleur's left ear, felt her eyes sting as well. She felt very sick to her stomach once more, a heaviness settling in her chest.
"You've just said I'm smart, Fleur, I know what you're implying." Hermione snapped miserably. It wasn't as if she had never considered her feelings towards Ron before. She thought back to how distraught she had been over his abandonment.
It's not like she had imagined how their first kiss would be, or how she would feel when he told her he loved her.
Obviously, she had never thought of him pulling out her chair as they went on a date, or how she would finally convince him to read her favorite book, Hogwart's: A History.
If Ginny ever tried to make her do something stupid and girlish, like look at a wedding magazine, she would never imagine herself walking towards a ginger groom.
Or how much more painful losing him would be if she were to actually experience some of these fantasies, only to have him ripped away by Voldemort.
And she never, ever thought about how gaping the hole in her heart would be if she lost him. It's not like she was so terrified and dreadfully expectant of the notion that she could feel a phantom pain in her chest that prophesized how terrible and unbearable the real sorrow would be.
But of course she had. And she'd built what she'd hope would be an impenetrable wall to shut out the potential for grief. And what was the use in getting ahead of herself? She couldn't imagine Ron feeling anything similar, he probably thought of her just as she thought of Harry. She had always been "one of the boys," never really feminine enough to capture his interest. He was probably still interested in Lavender Brown, the epitome of girlishness.
Recently, though, she had felt a shift that was seismic in proportion. The days following Ron's return to the trio had been filled with the uncomfortable tenseness of unspoken words. And now, at Shell Cottage, there had been such unexpected tenderness, but nothing more than that. He was definitely just being nice to make up for upsetting her before. She never wanted to lose him, not even as a friend, at least he returned the sentiment to that extent.
Only when Fleur handed her a newly conjured tissue did she realize tears were slowly sliding down her face. She hastily wiped them away, finding that no more came. She had given so much thought to the scenario that it was easy to head off the outward display of emotion.
"You know Bill and I married so quickly because we aren't sure how long we're going to have each other." Hermione shook her head.
"But you and Bill were going to get married anyway," Hermione retorted. "You're the worst Fleur, you don't need to play matchmaker because you're all sorted and happy." Hermione laughed. She was joking, to an extent. Fleur smiled wryly. "It isn't the right time, either. We have a duty to help Harry."
"You're too smart for your own good, ma petit, you have feelings for Ron and you're too scared to say anything."
"It's not like he's said anything either." Hermione snarled, actually becoming irritated for the first time.
"I believe he wants to." Hermione drained the rest of the coffee, wincing as she finished it, as most of the liquor had settled to the bottom.
"Fleur, I don't think you understand our relationship. They both think of me as a sister, we know each other too well, it's literally like we're related. I'm not his type, anyway." The rolling of Fleur's eyes was almost audible.
"Hermione, you and I both know it's not true. You're trying to explain this away, there's no explanation to be found. You can't ignore your feelings. And he's not going to ignore his for much longer. Are you going to turn him away if he comes to you?" Fleur asked hesitantly, thinking back to the similar talk she'd had with her brother-in-law a few hours ago.
"I might," Hermione sighed, tears threatened to return. Her heart felt too jumpy, fluttering anxiously as she watched Bill and Ron draw even closer to the house. "It's just not the right time, and if he doesn't feel the same way things will be so awkward… think of how distracting that would be. It's entirely improper."
"You're willing to live every day with the possibility of your life ending at any moment but you can't even concede letting a boy know you fancy him?"
The pair lapsed into silence, a sour look plastered on Hermione's face.
She was running across the country looking for Horcruxes and attempting to save the world, and yet here she was, with Fleur nonetheless, discussing a boy.
She had never felt quite so… Lavender Brown in her life. She damned Fleur for making discussing the matter with Ronald sound so pressing, but she had to give her credit for not immediately launching into more discussion about what had happened at Malfoy Manor.
At the creaking of the front door and the sound of Bill and Ron entering the house Fleur sprang from her chair and immediately went to the stove.
"More coffee, Hermione?" she questioned innocently as Hermione hastily used her sleeve to remove any vestiges of tears. She nodded to Fleur, who added an even healthier dose of Firewhiskey and returned the mug to the girl.
"What are you lot up to?" Bill asked as he stepped into the room. Fleur shrugged, giving Ron and small wave and Hermione a pointed look, which thankfully escaped the younger Weasley brother's interest.
"Finishing dinner, talking to Hermione." Fleur responded noncommittally. Bill crossed to her, landing a peck on her cheek. Ron sank into the chair that had been previously occupied by Fleur, eyeing Hermione carefully. Had she been crying?
"Have a nice talk?" he grinned, recalling Hermione and Ginny's disdain for Fleur in the previous years. Of course they'd gotten over it, but it still amused him greatly.
Hermione flushed a bright shade of pink and took a large gulp of her drink. The innuendo in his voice was clear; obviously Bill knew what they had been discussing. How perfectly humiliating. Was he going to bring it up in front of an audience?
"Lovely," she finally replied, her voice almost cracking. "How was your walk?"
"Brilliant!" he responded, his voice chipper and has face wearing a look of utter confusion. Hermione seemed to teeter in her chair, unsure of what to do next. An instant later she drained her mug and stood, almost toppling the chair.
"I think I'll go for a walk as well!" she said, addressing no one in particular, and exited hastily the way she had seen Bill and Ron enter the house.
Fleur, who had been facing the stove, turned and revealed tears of laughter streaming down her face. Bill looked pained.
"That was horrific." He asserted.
"What just happened?" Ron barked, throwing his hands up in exasperation. Fleur snorted.
"Why don't you go for a walk as well?" his brother's wife asked.
"I've just gone on one!"
"Ronald, really," Bill snapped. "I wasn't giving you advice for the sake of hearing myself talk."
Grumbling, Ron stood. Hermione was quite honestly the most confusing person he had ever met. Just the night before she'd acted like seeing him was her dying wish.
Still, he felt compelled to follow her, so he grabbed his jacket from the hook next to the door and followed her out back onto the beach.