Enjoy!


Tender hands moved a soapy washcloth over baby-soft skin, as warm water cascaded like a summer rain upon the two bodies. Hermione skillfully scrubbed away bits of blood and dirt from Fleur's body, stopping every so often to place a soft kiss on newly cleaned flesh. The blonde instinctively backed up against Hermione's front, fitting her slick body into her lover's like a puzzle piece. A whimper escaped the veela's lips as Hermione lathered Fleur's breasts and stomach, eventually continuing a journey downward along the blonde's abdomen. Her mouth nipped and sucked at Fleur's creamy neck, as bold fingers were free to skate over the slick folds of the blonde's sex, finally dipping inside. Fleur's body pulsed and squirmed at the touches, her neck craning back on it's own accord, her eyes shut vice-like, and she bit her lower lip. Finding the sight mouth-watering, the brunette smiled, and cooed softly into Fleur's ears. "You have to stop wriggling so much baby…it's hard to focus on the task at hand." A second finger entered Fleur, causing the French woman's breath to catch in her throat.

Moments earlier, after their talk in the bedroom, Fleur and Hermione had returned to the living room, Hermione lending Kara her knowledge of curative spells. Telekinetically she would work upon healing Bill's various scars, while her hands were free to work within more muggle means of medicine; disinfecting of cuts with a bottle of grain alcohol Fleur had and dressing wounds with various strips of cotton the other women had gathered. When they had finished Kara thanked the two lovers up and down, swearing she would never forget the kindness they had shown and side-apparated away with Bill; but not before promising to fill them in on his condition. Utterly exhausted, Fleur collapsed into Hermione's open arms and the younger witch deftly lifted the blonde off the ground. Fleur's limbs instantly went limp, and Hermione pressed her lips to Fleur's cheek. "A hot shower will do you some good darling. You have had quite the evening."

Fleur gave a sleepy yawn while her arms wrapped around Hermione's neck and the Gryffindor carried her toward the bathroom. "Oui…a shower would be nice…'zough I'd love 'eet 'eef you joined me mon ange…I am feeling a bit sore and may need some assistance wiz 'zose 'ard to reach places…" Once they entered the small bathroom, Hermione blushed and obliged, placing her lover back upon her feet and reaching over to turn on the taps.

And here they were, the weight of the day rinsing off the brunette's shoulders with the fall of the shower stream. Dirt and grime sluiced from Fleur's sheet of hair, it's golden luster returning as Hermione's hands now lathered shampoo into Fleur's scalp. They switched positions for Fleur to return the favor.

"Will you be staying 'ere tonight wiz me?" Asked the blonde, slight pleading in her tone; the very sound tugged at the brunette's heartstrings. She wanted very much to be with the French witch that night. Not one ounce of desire for returning to Hogwarts could be found within Hermione. Groaning, she shook her head slowly. Fleur's disappointment was at once painted on her pretty features.

"I…I can't. I have one more place I need to go to tonight."

"'Ermione!" Fleur was suddenly stern. "Do not tell me you wish to return to Malfoy Manor!"

"No. I have no desire to go back to that dreadful place… I'm sorry baby…believe me, there's nothing I'd want more right now…I am going to make a quick stop in London to see the…Oh…" Hermione shuddered as Fleur's sudsy hands raked over a particularly sensitive spot of skin. "Merlin Fleur…your hands." Her eyes rolled back as a finger unexpectedly dipped inside of Hermione's core, and an eager fingernail drug across the sensitive walls inside. Another digit followed and Fleur began to thrust with a gentle rhythm, each push triggering another melodic moan from the brunette. Fleur's thumb began to swirl around Hermione's now swollen clitoris and the French witch captured her lover's lips in a blazing kiss; breaking apart only to catch her breath before diving into the waiting mouth of her lover once more. The young witch's arms sprung forward to brace her nearly convulsing body on the slick tile walls of the shower. A quick orgasm caused her knees to buck and she cried out in pleasure, Fleur's name dripping from her slacken tongue like honey. Her lover's lips once again claimed her own and they kissed deeply. They had been through so much, been so starved of happiness, they seemed to nourish the other through the utter depth of this passionate kiss they now shared. Hermione pulled the slick blonde against her own body once more, the tender softness of Fleur's skin sending shivers up her spine. A heavenly haze of ecstasy enveloped them both and soon after they were both blissfully satiated, contented and ready to face what was to come.

"Je t'aime...'Ermione…"


Brambles twitched and swayed like a swarm of jagged arms as Hermione jogged the short distance down the street toward the front door of 12 Grimmauld Place. The windows of the old brownstone row home were dimly lit, and figures could be seen flitting about on the inside. She strode to the door and reached a trembling hand for its knocker, but the door whipped open before she could even make contact. A wild head of fluorescent pink hair greeted her.

"HERMIONE!" Nymphadora Tonks shrieked, her spiked hair now a bright shade of red. Turning her head over her shoulder she called back. "Everyone! She's OK!" Hermione flinched at the sound. "Wotcher Hermione, we thought you were dead!"

Footsteps thundered across the old tiled floor as Harry and Remus Lupin closed in on the young witch being guided into the hallway. The feeble light from the many gas lamps that lined the narrow foyer flickered as they rushed past. After a crushing hug from Harry and a pat on the back from Remus, she heaved a sigh and feigned a half smile. "Well…as you can see…I'm very much alive."

"We searched for several hours Herm!" Harry said, holding her at arms length and looking over her for any visible injuries. "Just what happened to you anyway? As soon as we had reentered the courtyard, you were gone!"

Hermione shrugged. "I chased one of the Death Eaters down toward the Whomping Willow. Nearly had him cornered until we both incurred the wrath of that dreadful tree. I was thrown clear and landed in the canopy of the forest. I must've had the wind knocked out of me, for I awoke tangled in branches." She completed the lie with another shrug.

Remus scratched his chin thoughtfully with one of his hands. "How odd. You look rather unscathed for having been tossed by a tree." Remus commented, and with a shrug he turned to make his way further into the house, followed closely behind by Tonks. Hermione and Harry were left alone in the foyer.

"Hermione is very skilled with healing spells." Harry said proudly. "Isn't that right?"

Hermione ran a hand through her bushy hair. "Yes, though I'll admit, I'm still a bit sore." On the inside Hermione knew it wasn't the tree that had made her muscles ache, but a certain mischievous blonde, now tucked serenely amongst comforters on a soft bed. A soft bed that Hermione longed to be in at that moment.

Harry's fingers closed around one her wrists and he gently pulled her in the direction of the dining hall. "The rest of the Order will be glad to know you're alright. I've been a wreck since we got back."

"Are they all here?"

"Yes. They've been recuperating from the attack, injuries were few, Ron was banged up a fair bit, but nothing we haven't dealt with before. They are getting ready to select our next course of action." Harry sighed. "These last two raids on Hogwarts have been perplexing."

Hermione arched an eyebrow, knowing this was about to get interesting. "In what way?" She probed as they stopped just outside the door to the dining room. From behind the oak door, a multitude of muffled voices could be heard and Hermione desperately wanted to avoid going inside.

"Well, for one thing Voldemort has only sent his lesser men. None of the inner Death Eaters have made an appearance since Dumbledore's assassination. It's just quite odd he'd assault Hogwarts with simple foot soldiers. He couldn't possibly hope to accomplish much with them."

"Perhaps it was a diversion." The brunette offered. "Draw the primary defenses away and allow the stronger Death Eaters an opportunity to infiltrate the castle."

"That's just it! The Aurors have done a full sweep, there's no sign that anyone entered or left the castle during the attack!"

Hermione oddly felt herself smile on the inside. "A small sacrifice in hopes of killing an Order member?"

"Hermione were you even in the same battle as us! These men the Dark Lord sent could not fight their way out of a paper bag. Shoddy dueling, stray hexes and curses everywhere. Completely sloppy tactics."

"Harry?" Called a baritone voice from the dining room. "Are you coming in here or not!"

"Just a second!" Responded Harry with a shout. "Come on 'Mione. Moody's been in a right foul mood all night. Wanted us all to meet even before we were able to get patched up." He growled. Hermione followed her friend closely as he made his way toward the dining room.

It was all a strange sight to Hermione. The Order sat clustered around a long wooden dining room table, chatting amiably amongst themselves. Hermione stuck close to Harry, making their way toward two free chairs at the far end of the table. Minerva McGonagall rose to her feet at once, rushing toward the young witch, gathering her into her open arms. As the Headmistress was hugging her, Hermione's arms hung limply at her sides.

"Hermione!" McGonagall cried. "We thought we had lost you! Are you alright?"

Before Hermione could speak Harry nodded. "Yep. Survived a row with the Whomping willow, didn't you Herm?"

Hermione desperately wanted to leave, and sweat was starting to drip down her back. Discomfort was all she could feel at that moment, as she felt oddly out of place at this meeting. In the past she had attended several like it, all of which seemed no different to her than the last, but this time, she felt like a stranger. The Headmistress gaped at her waiting for a response, but Hermione could do nothing.

"Miss Granger?" Probed the elder witch once more, holding Hermione at arms length. Nerves stung the young witch with the sound of her former surname rolling off McGonagall's tongue. Helen's face haunted her vision for the briefest of moments and she wanted badly to tell McGonagall to never call her that again, to sod off and leave her alone. Settling upon just weakly nodding her head, Hermione gently pushed past the woman and sat in the empty wooden chair. Harry joined her side. Across the table, the leather-faced Mad-Eye gave Hermione a brusque nod, the simple gesticulation speaking volumes. McGonagall returned to her own seat, though her eyes never once pulled away from their sight on Hermione.

Mad-Eye gave a gruff snort, and instantly he commanded the attention of the room. "Now that everyone is present we can start this rubbish meeting. The sooner we finish, the sooner I can get some ale! Remus?"

Remus Lupin stood and cleared his throat. He spoke hurriedly but not without great gravity. No one understood what provoked the attacks that night and not one person could offer any theories as to what the attacks were supposed to achieve. Hermione's hands nervously tapped on her thighs as she continued to feign interest in what Remus was saying. Like a sheep in a flock, she nodded and voiced her agreement with the others at the appropriate moments, blending in with them with little effort. With a slight gesture, the floor was passed from Remus to Kingsley Shaklebot, who stood from the table and began to pace along the far wall of the dining room.

Kingsley spoke at length about the current status of the ministry; a topic that shook Hermione from her boredom. The muggle Prime Minister, Kingsley relayed, had recently been expressing concerns about the safety of the Crown, as Her Majesty's Diamond Jubilee was scheduled for the spring of the coming year. The muggles, completely unaware of the current conflict affecting the wizarding world, would like to carry out their celebrations in peace. Kingsley dissertated with great apprehension, "The Prime Minister is requesting a greater Auror presence to be at the Jubilee next year, and we are unsure if we can meet that demand without compromising the safety of our own people." Hermione listened with great interest as the veteran Auror continued. "Currently, we are at a loss over what to do. The Prime Minister's actions does nothing to tell me if he expects the Death Eaters to attack, but merely he wishes to take precautions. In the meantime, recruitment efforts will be increased, though training proves to be an entirely different issue all together. One that we shall deal with in due time. That is all I have to say on the subject. I will be sure to relay any new information that comes my way." All around the table heads nodded enthusiastically as Kingsley retook his seat and Remus stood once more.

"While we are on the subject of Aurors, a few that are assigned to the Hogsmeade area reportedly had sightings of Bellatrix Lestrange tonight." Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione watched as Harry tensed instantly at the sound of her Godmother's name. His hands balled into fists, and his jaw twitched.

He snarled through his teeth. "Did no one attack her? Attempt to subdue her? Did she just get away!" Harry's tone was fervid with anger, no doubt over Sirius' death Hermione surmised.

Remus frowned and Moody took it upon himself to silence the frenzied boy-who-lived. "Can it Potter! It would take more than a handful of Aurors to off that crazed bitch of a Death Eater. You know that Harry." Hermione tried desperately not to hex the grizzled man across the table from her. "There is a reason she is so valued by the Dark Lord…you have seen the bitch duel. The woman is like a ruddy dragon, banshee and harpy all molded into one repulsive package!" The knuckles of Hermione's tightly clenched fists cracked as the old man finished. Bellatrix Lestrange had been her Godmother for only a matter of hours, and already Hermione wished to rip the very organ for which Moody earned his nickname right out of his face, simply for calling her a bitch.

"We get the point Alastor. I only bring this to your attention, as You-Know-Who's lieutenants are being so bold as to come near the castle despite the Auror presence. We cannot simply overlook this potential threat. If Bellatrix Lestrange were to breach the castle defenses, well…I wouldn't even want to fathom what could occur." A scoff escaped Hermione's lips at the statement, earning her a few incredulous looks. Quickly she began to cough, desperately hoping to cover up her lack of surprise. Please let the meeting be over. Hermione thought over and over.

Her motives for going to Black family home were entirely different than attending a simple meeting of the Order. When Remus finally declared the meeting adjourned, Hermione slid out from the table and began to make her way toward the staircase. Much to her chagrin however, Remus intercepted her during her escape.

"Miss Granger?" Her insides writhed at the sound of her former last name. "A word if I may?" Remus gestured toward the small vacant drawing room to their left. They each took a seat and Remus cleared his throat. "This is the first chance I've had to speak with you in months. I have been meaning to ask, just how was your seaside retreat this summer? I hope that you three at least had one moments peace during your otherwise dangerous school years."

"Umm, it was wonderful yes. The weather was rather agreeable, as was the surf."

Remus smiled. "Ahh yes, Harry has told me of your many excursions out into the bounding main! Sending you all to Shell Cottage was the least we could do, for all that you have done for us…for the people."

"Thank you. It was an enjoyable time being amongst friends." The lies were starting to gag her.

"Friends, yes…that is precisely what I wish to discuss with you Miss Granger."

"Hermione. Just Hermione."

"Indeed. Hermione. I know that I am not alone when I say that something is amiss between you and Harry and Ronald. Am I right?"

Hermione could only shrug, as she had neither the patience nor want to get dragged into this conversation at that moment.

Remus continued. "Harry has informed me of your rather peculiar behavior as of late. Wandering out on the Hogwarts grounds alone, falling behind on your school work, earning detentions…and he also tells me of how you no longer seem to wish to associate with your friends."

"Quite the contrary. They wish not to associate with me." Deadpanned Hermione.

Remus paused a moment, visibly taken aback by her unexpected response. "Is there something going on? We need you three…the trio, if you will, to be a unit once more…you have accomplished what few could even hope to. Merlin, Harry might not be alive to this day if it weren't for you and Ron. If there is an issue perhaps we can help resolve it…"

"There are no issues Remus. We have grown apart and I myself merely have grown weary of this whole war. I want no longer to have a part in it. I just want to finish up my final year of schooling without interruption. My childhood has been robbed from me by this conflict…and I want out. I have told this to Harry. It is he who has neglected to tell you."

The former Professor grabbed at Hermione's shoulders, giving her a slight shaking. "But we are so close. The Dark Lord will make a move for Harry, and it is only a matter of time before that occurs. Harry needs you. We need you. You, Hermione, are the brightest witch Hogwarts has seen in decades! You do not understand your power and how valuable you are!" Hermione furrowed her brow ever so briefly, feeling an odd sense of déjà vu.

"I don't see the concern here. Ron and Harry have wasted no time in substituting me. Have you not yet met my replacement? Miss Lavender Brown?"

"Hermione, though I have no ill will against Miss Brown, I would be remiss if I for once believed that she were to be a remotely considerable replacement for you."

"While I appreciate the sentiment Remus, I just can't. Never have I felt so much confusion and anger in my life. I need to deal with my demons on my own for now. I am not fit to join you and the others at this moment. Please Remus…as a compromise, just give me some time, and I promise you, I will be there when I am truly needed." She offered.

He gave her a despondent look followed by a small nod of his head. "I will leave you be. I just hope that you find whatever it is you're looking for...and that you find it fast." He released his grip on her shoulders.

"I hope so too." With that, the young witch exited the drawing room, leaving a very conflicted Remus Lupin behind. His head was held in his hands as he balanced his elbows upon his knees. Gaze trained upon the oriental run on the ground, the former professor was completely unaware of the smirk that curled the right side of Hermione's lips as she retreated into the darkness of the hallway.

At the end of the hallway stood the reason for Hermione's return to 12 Grimmauld Place. On the far wall, adjacent to the narrow stairs hung an enormous portrait frame; upon which had a bed sheet had been draped over it. Hermione slowed her pace as she approached it, and she extended a hand to pull it free. What greeted her was the unsightly face of Walburga Black; the old woman's eyes held impossibly open wide having been hastily awoken. The Black matriarch fluttered her eyes, an attempt to adjust to the light. Her haggard lips curled into a sneer, preparing to scream in anger as she had done so many times in the past, but as her cataract-ridden eyes came to regard Hermione closely, her demeanor quickly changed.

"Helen…dearest me, Helen Gaunt is that you?" Hermione stopped and peered back at the enormous portrait. The woman's thin mouth was curled into a toothy grin, the mangled teeth of her mouth yellowed and crooked.

Hermione spoke in nearly a whisper. "Uh, yes…uh, Auntie Walburga. It's me. Helen Gaunt." Somewhere inside her mind she hoped and prayed that her less than stellar impromptu acting would be convincing enough to fool the haughty portrait. "Just here to grab a few things and be on my way!"

"My word, Helen…I thought you had died!" Walburga shrieked. "And now you have returned to our home! And still you have retained your youthful beauty!" Hermione held two hands in a gesture to silence the portrait.

"Not so loud! No…I was merely…in a coma?" Hermione offered, with a slight shrug.

Walburga's volume fell to a remorseful murmur. "Oh Helen, can you see what has become of our home! These brutes, all friends of Sirius no doubt, have all but commandeered my house! Even my darling Kreacher has fallen under their spell!"

"I am afraid there isn't much I can do Auntie. I am only here to claim a few of my things that I believe I had left in Regulus' room."

Walburga began to weep, or more appropriately wail. Hermione's hands clamped vice-like over her ears to drown out the piercing caterwaul erupting from the portrait. "Oh Regulus! My poor sweet baby Regulus!"

"Dreadfully sorry to dredge up old memories but could you remind me which room was his. It has been awhile since I have been here last."

Walburga gasped between sobs. "The fourth floor my dear. Kreacher has told me they have been keeping those filthy blood traitor children in there!"

"Children?"

"Yes!" Hissed the elderly Black matron. "Two have heads full of despicable red hair, and the other is a rather dippy looking girl. Brought them in here all banged up and bruised. Heard them prattling on and on about a battle of some sort." A brief pause passed over them like the passing of the tides. Walburga wore a thoughtful expression upon her face before she spoke once more. "Did you ever have your portrait completed Helen?"

The sudden change of subject caused Hermione to blanch and her heart swelled with excitement. There was a painting of her mother. Somewhere there existed the opportunity to finally meet Helen Gaunt face to face. "N-n-no Walburga. In fact, I can't recall what I've done with it."

"Shame. It was such a nice painting too. Had you become a Black proper, it surely would've been displayed proudly on our walls. Had Regulus not abandoned you like he did….Pity, it was coming along so nicely. Surely it would've been completed." Her tone began to spiral back down into anger.

Hermione, not wishing to hear the rest of the Black Matriarch's diatribe, gave a half curtsy and returned the sheet over the portrait. Walburga protested loudly. "Auntie Walburga, I simply figured you wouldn't wish to see your unwanted guests." The painting grew silent.

"Hmm, I suppose that is true…farewell dear Helen. Promise you'll come visit me again soon. It gets so lonely here…"

"Yes Auntie, I promise." Hermione began to race up the four flights of stairs, taking three steps at a time in large strides. Upon reaching the dimly lit fourth floor she could see two doors, one adorned with the crest of Gryffindor, the other with Slytherin. The latter was slightly ajar with muted voices seeping through it. Hermione crept toward it and pressed herself against the wall and leaned forward to peer through the door into the room. Ginny and Lavender, chatting quietly amongst themselves, were seated at the foot of a bed that Hermione could only surmise held the sleeping form of Ron Weasley, sprawled across it like a forgotten marionette puppet. Pressed even deeper into the shadows Hermione calculated that she had but mere minutes to act. Closing her eyes Hermione concentrated on the three forms in front of her, willing her heart to slow as she had practiced so many times before, she spoke the incantation in her mind, three times over. Stupefy, stupefy, stupefy! Two muffled thuds could be heard the instant she reopened her eyes. Creeping through the shadows, Hermione held her breath as she spied the stunned forms of the Lavender and Ginny upon the floor.

Careful to avoid their eyes, she immediately began to dig through every drawer and box strewn about the room. Nothing of particular interest could be found among Regulus' remaining personal effects. Some old essays, quidditch gear, Slytherin regalia, robes, everything trifling. Finally, buried inside a box in the far closet, she found one thing of interest: a leather bound journal. Flipping through its pages Regulus' messy handwriting dotted several terse entries, all of the dates from the 1970's. Contained within it had to be something about her mother. She felt as though she was grasping for straws, but she was also desperate for any knowledge of her mother. Perhaps, she silently hoped, that the location of her mother's portrait was noted somewhere within Regulus' journal. Reducio. The book was reduced to the size of a galleon and she placed it into her back pocket of her jeans.

Looking back toward her former friends, her upper lip curled into a sneer. Once before she had been in a similar situation. Ron upon a hospital cot, herself clinging not only to his limp hand, but also to the hope that he fancied her more than Lavender Brown. Things were so different then than they are now. So much has changed, she thought to herself, and nothing could bring back the past. His fiery red hair was plastered to his dirty face, his skin dotted with bruises and scrapes, and Hermione found herself angry that none of his wounds were life threatening. Smiling, she made a quick exit through the door before muttering, "Finite Incantatem."


The rain fell in thick sheets all morning, turning the ground into a slick muddy mess. In depths of the forbidden woods Hermione Gaunt ran at a quick clip, the icy bite of the downpour not slowing her for a moment. Her clothes clung to her lean body like a second skin. Three weeks passed since the night at Malfoy Manor and 12 Grimmauld Place, during which her body had undergone some changes, as her daily habits became increasingly bizarre; eating meager meals by herself, meditating at night, disappearing into the woods during the day, and missing many classes. Normalcy only returned to her when she was in the presence of Fleur, who shone like a beacon for wayward ships lost at sea. Hermione felt safe and free from the terrors of the world whenever she brought her lips to meet the soft ones of her lover's. On the few occasions when she wasn't with Fleur, doing schoolwork or training, she had read through the first few pages of Regulus' journal, but so far, it disappointed her; as all of it was entirely too trivial. Most of Regulus' writings were devoted to sibling rivalry, quidditch, and general hatred of all things Gryffindor. No mentioning of her mother just yet. The journal, like the Gaunt family history, was stowed underneath her dorm room bed.

Her classmates, while they still mostly avoided her, couldn't help but notice that she had appeared to drop several pounds, and her eyes grew more sunken. The weeks had bled together, and all throughout Hermione had grown stronger. Telekinetic spells came very naturally to her now, to the point where her wand had begun to collect dust in her room. Her training continued in solitude. The freezing raindrops pelted her body as she started doing a set of pushups. With each hard thrust the icy water flooded her eyelids and ran down the bridge of her nose. As the muscles of her arms began to protest in pain, she cleared her mind and levitated; holding her body spread-eagle, mere inches from the saturated ground. She remained in this position for a few minutes, breathing deep the crisp November air.

She felt good.

Powerful.

Bounding back through the gates of the courtyard Hermione came to a halt before the great doors, pausing to catch her breath. Resting her hands on her knees, she heaved a sigh of relief realizing that she had just enough time to grab a shower before her first class. Today, she mused, might not be so bad after all.

"Well, well, well…if it isn't Her-My-Oh-Nee…" Came a loud nasal voice in the distance.

Good feelings, gone.

Hermione groaned loudly and stood, turning to face a pack of Slytherins dressed in their robes, hoods up. At the front stood Pansy Parkinson, arms crossed with a smug grin on her round face.

"What's with all of the exercise lately? Not enough of a man for your French mistress? Need to bulk up or something?" Her companions began to laugh like a pack of starving hyenas descending upon a kill. "Merlin knows you're starting to look like a man!"

"Pansy, are you quite finished? I don't have time for this and need to go get ready for class." She started to walk toward the doors only to have Pansy block her path. With a hard shove, Pansy sent Hermione stumbling back and she fell hard onto her hip. The volume of the other Slytherins mirth only grew louder. The commotion began to draw a crowd.

"No, I'm not! You've been acting like a bloody freak…" She paused for a minute. "Well…you've always been a bloody freak, so you must be really outdoing yourself this time." Hermione, ignoring the other girl's jabs, got to her feet and tried to make her way past Pansy once again. "Impedimenta!" The bolt struck the Gryffindor hard in the back and as her body fell forward, her head slammed painfully to the ground. She sat up and cradled her pulsating head in her hands, wincing loudly. A scarlet red scrape now blemished the skin of her forehead.

Pansy feigned a pout at the sight. "Aww does it hurt bad? Wow…" She turned to scan the crowd. "Not even Potty or the Weasel to come to your aid? Poor, poor filthy mudblood slut Hermione Granger…all alone."

"That's not my name." Hermione hissed painfully through her now throbbing jaw as she struggled to stand up. Pansy didn't hear this as she continued to harangue the Gryffindor.

"Oh no! Look at the bruise you've got on your head! Whatever is your little Veela bitch going to do?"

That did it.

With blinding speed Hermione's left fist connected forcefully with Pansy's nose. That was rapidly followed by her other fist colliding with Pansy's rib cage. The other girl's wand flew a short distance out her hands and rattled across the cobblestone floor of the courtyard. Pansy stumbled for a minute before wiping her now bleeding nose and looking up at Hermione with a manic look on her face. "Ahh would you look at that! The mudblood even fights like a muggle too!" She spat, as Hermione put up her fists in a ready stance, brow furrowed. With a yell Pansy broke into a full sprint and charged head-on at the Gryffindor. Hermione reacted with lightning quick reflexes and launched the other girl clear over her body with a well-placed foot to the solar plexus coupled with a backward roll.

From the ever-growing crowd of onlookers, Trevor, the young first year from Ravenclaw cupped his hands to his mouth. "FIIIIGHT!"

The crowd formed a crude ring as Pansy crumpled to the ground and Hermione lunged at her, pinning the writhing Slytherin down with her legs. "Don't." Punch "Call." Punch "Fleur." Punch "A." Punch "Bitch!" Punch after punch Hermione unloaded her rage on Pansy's face, each strike drawing more and more blood. It even splattered across her own face. Hermione wanted to smash in the girl's skull in for every derogatory comment made about her and Fleur. For every cold shoulder given to her since she arrived at Hogwarts. For every lie and broken promise told to her by the Grangers. The two women thrashed about on the ground, trading kicks, slaps and punches. It spiraled into a dirty fight as they tore at each other's hair and at one point Hermione even bit down hard on Pansy's forearm with her teeth.

In the meantime a larger crowd of students had now encircled them, wands drawn, shouting any incantation they could think of to try and break up the fight. On the outside Hermione was beating Pansy into a nearly cataleptic state and adroitly blocking any flailing attempts made by the downed Slytherin to fight back; however on the inside a chorus of voices was screaming Protego rapid-fire over and over in her head, repelling each and every jinx or hex thrown her way. The force of the hexes being reflected back knocked over several onlookers. Pansy's blood now ran down Hermione's forearms as she fended against Pansy's fists flying into her chest. A communal gasp erupted from the crowd as Hermione quite audibly tore open the skin of her own knuckle by knocking out one of Pansy's front canine teeth with a exceptionally vicious blow.

"HERMIONE!" Some one had shouted. "HERMIONE! STOP! GET OFF OF HER!" Harry's voice was now distinct over the roar of shouting students. He pushed his way through the crowd and lunged toward Hermione in an attempt to pull her off of the virtually unconscious Pansy Parkinson. Hermione turned and looked up at him with pure loathing. Training his wand at her head, he trembled clearly unsure of what to do. Pansy reached for a clump of Hermione's hair and the brunette swatted the arm away, and at the same time knocking Harry's wand from his hand without batting an eye. His hand whipped back in revulsion as if lightning had just shocked it. Scrambling toward his downed wand, he grabbed it and aimed it at his friend once more. "I'm serious Hermione. Stop it! Let her go!" A deafening silence fell upon the two Gryffindors as Hermione pinned down a whimpering Pansy with a forearm pressed hard to the neck. He winced at the sight as the color began to drain from Pansy's face. "You're better than this Hermione! Just walk away. She isn't worth all of this anger!"

"You have a real knack for inspiring confidence Harry." Hermione groaned as Pansy struggled against the rigid hold.

"Just let her go!"

"Why should I?" Hermione spat. "She and her entire house go above and beyond the call of duty to make my life hell for the past SEVEN years. Mudblood this, mudblood that! She deserves this, and you know it! Fowl, loathsome, disgusting roach that she is! How dare you come to her defense!" Pansy squirmed under the brunette's arm and an infuriated Hermione wrathfully threw one last punch at Pansy's head, finally knocking the Slytherin girl out cold.

Bruised and bloodied, Hermione stood to full height, looking Harry staunchly in the eyes, chest rising and falling in rapid breaths. With a few ragged coughs she sputtered blood and what appeared to be pieces of a molar from out her mouth at Harry's feet. Adrenaline coursed like a flashflood through her veins as she surveyed the eyes of the crowd that had gathered. She suppressed the urge to knock them all back with a spell. The tank top she had been wearing was torn in several places and she hastily wiped blood from her hands on the fabric. Harry visibly recoiled at the disturbing sight of the young witch, her hair tousled and caked with blood and grime. "You've come to the defense of others this whole time…but who is it who has been standing behind you all throughout? I'm sick of it Harry, you tossing me aside. I can't take it anymore. Not once did you ever try to stop Ron from saying such detestable things about me this summer." Expelliarmus! The wand that aimed at her once again flew a few feet away from Harry's open hand. "I've felt pain, I've been hurt, and I've lived hell just as you have but like a good little sidekick I've kept mine bubbling under. You say you love me, but you have a bloody strange way of showing it Harry!"

"Hermione…I…"

"Save your excuses…" Hermione took in a sharp breath ready to continue her rant until a loud voice from way in the back had shouted: "Petrificus Totalus!"


A/N: ONE WEEK TIL RACEDAY! Can't you tell that I'm psyched? It's all come down to this next week, during which I'll probably not get much in the way of writing done. The weather report says it will be a balmy 45 degrees and sunny. BRING IT!

A/N 2: The title is one of my fave Pixies songs ever. :D

Hope this chap was meaty enough for you all. Gotta admit, I had fun with this one as I LOVE writing a fight scene, even more so than a sex scene (though, at the risk of giving TMI, I think messing around in the shower is the best). XD

til next time...ttfn. tata for now!