11: Tribulations
Many things had transpired that long night at Hogwarts and the wheel of fortune had turned this way and that and at times had positively spun. Several people had died, perished at the hands of Voldemort's followers or by the Dark Lord himself, but many more lived. However, even the horrendous shock of seeing a lifeless Harry Potter, brought out for the defenders of Hogwarts to see, didn't have the desired effect.
Voldemort had hoped a dead Harry Potter would inflict the final crushing blow to his opponents, but it had had the reverse effect. Proud chins were set more determinedly and shoulders were straight and back and upright. Then the miracle occurred, which stunned everyone, and Voldemort the most, when Harry literally sprung to life. It made the defenders feel even more vindicated in their faith of what was truly right in the world and that their fight was worthwhile.
For most of the preceding time of the night's events, Fleur was virtually 'out of action'. She was continuing to feel ill and anxious, although she suspected that the anxiety was from the whole situation and being annoyed at herself. Thankfully Madam Pomfrey was so overworked that she didn't get a chance to probe too much into Fleur's recent medical history, and only ascertained that the Frenchwoman probably had a virus and was to take an all-purpose tonic.
Several times Fleur tried to rise and get back to being useful, even if it was only being based in the Great Hall, but each time she felt weak and weary and had intermittent pain through the trunk of her body. She finally decided to take the tonic, much to the relief of Bill, and immediately she felt brighter and more energized.
Fleur had stood up and was going towards a table where Mrs. Weasley and Bill were looking over papers, trying to make a list of the casualties, both the wounded and those unfortunate enough to have died, when she heard raised voices behind her.
"Out of the way! MOVE!"
"Wait a moment," said a voice. "Isn't that...?"
"Get out of the BLOODY WAY!"
"Do you need a hand?"
"NO! Don't touch him!"
Fleur turned round, as her husband rushed past her towards the voices. She soon saw that Bill was going towards his brother, one of the twins, of whom she was sorry to admit, she still had trouble telling them apart. One of the twins was carrying the other over his shoulder, his face red and sweating and amongst the sweat and dirt she could see that tears were rolling down his cheeks, cleaning lines through the grime there.
Mrs. Weasley had turned to the commotion by now and for a moment she froze. "Bring him here!" she then shouted, pointing to a spare stretcher. "Quickly now!"
Whichever brother it was, laid his injured twin on to the stretcher, as Mrs. Weasley went to her son's side and began doing some routine checks. Madam Pomfrey had rushed over and after mere moments, she had stood back up again, looked straight at Fleur, a hand against her own chest, expelling a sigh and a sad shake of the head as she turned and walked away. Mrs. Weasley hadn't even noticed the school nurse arrive or leave, as her focus was entirely on her son.
"It's no good, Mum. He's gone! Fred's gone!" said the forlorn and weary George.
"I'm sure he's just unconscious, dear," said Mrs. Weasley, as she was feeling for pulses, although with each of her points of medical evaluation she became more frantic. She listened to Fred's utterly motionless chest, and even watched it for a few seconds to make sure she hadn't missed anything. "If we can just..."
"Mum, he's...he's dead!" said a distraught George. "A curse got him! I...I saw it happen! He's dead!"
"No, he's not!" said Mrs. Weasley, as she continued to prod her lifeless son, looking for a sign she was sure she had missed, not wanting to believe it.
Bill had an arm around George, almost holding the young man upright. Even had Poppy Pomfrey not given her unspoken answer, Fleur could see for herself that Fred was indeed dead and every second longer they allowed Mrs. Weasley to doubt it, would make it all the worse. She walked up to Mrs. Weasley and grabbed hold of the hands that were still frantically looking for pulses in her son's neck, and wrists.
"What are you doing?" asked an annoyed Mrs. Weasley, as she pulled her hands from Fleur's grasp. "I have to treat my son, I have to..."
"He's gone," Fleur said gently, as she got hold of her mother-in-law's hands again. "I'm so very, very sorry, but he's gone. There's nothing anyone can do."
"But...he...we...," Mrs. Weasley struggled, and as the realization, which she had known all along but had tried to ignore, hit her, she fell into Fleur's arms with a sob.
Wars and battles often put people into extraordinary situations and circumstances, and had it not been a battle at Hogwarts and the extreme shock of a family death, Fleur would probably never have imagined she would be holding her mother-in-law to comfort her, as they all stood by Fred's body. She too felt tears down her face; the weariness and nausea of earlier had returned, but she fought it back, and she held strong for Bill and his family, as slowly, each of them wandered in and were faced with the reality.
For a few minutes, in the time Voldemort was giving them to decide what their and Harry's choices were, Fleur had sat with Bill, her arm around him as he tried to make himself believe what had happened. They didn't speak, but drew comfort from each other. Fleur had felt an ache in her stomach again, and in trying to ignore it, she looked up to see Ron and Hermione walk in. They had immediately seen something was wrong and Hermione had taken hold of Ron's arm as they slowly walked the last few steps up to his parents and the scene of disbelief and grief was played out again.
Fleur wanted to go to Hermione, to collapse in the girl's arms. At the very least she wanted to hug her, to have physical contact with her, and in the circumstances it was not going to look particularly strange. She gave Bill's hand a little squeeze, before she stood up and walked to Hermione who had a hand against Ron's back as he held onto his mother.
"Hermione, I'm...I'm so glad you're okay," said Fleur.
Hermione jumped, having not seen the Frenchwoman, being so shocked and distracted by what they had faced in the Great Hall. When she set eyes on Fleur, she felt her chest thud and released a heavy breath, as well as immediately dropping her hand from Ron. "Fleur?" Fleur wrapped her arms around Hermione, and felt the brunette younger woman loved holding Fleur again, however brief it would have to be.
To have her in my arms again, thought Fleur. I've missed her so much. I don't know what I would have done had she been brought in instead of Fred...although that's a bad comparison...not...oh...I can't change how I feel.
Fleur moved back slightly, and quickly inspected Hermione's dirty and bruised face, and her general appearance. She wasn't sure what she was expecting, as it was obvious the girl hadn't lost a limb somewhere. She could see blood down the side of Hermione's jeans and must have given a worried frown as Hermione smiled at her and pulled her into another hug.
"I'm fine!" said Hermione, with a laugh. "Nothing serious."
The Frenchwoman had allowed her initial instincts to check Hermione for gaping wounds, or at least missing fingers, but now the veela within wanted to relish the other instincts she had. Fleur might not be able to kiss her lover here, but she could enjoy the second hug and the scents that were Hermione: the scents that calmed her and enveloped her, which she had missed so much in those few days. As she let the veela within her surface for a few restrained seconds, she felt a wave of nausea hit her. She ignored it once again and tried to absorb all that was Hermione, and which she knew would keep her calm. However, Fleur had to pull back suddenly with a pain that started in her stomach and rose to her chest, something that was familiar in the past few hours. She suceeded in not bending over double, but nearly retched, before stopping herself, hoping she didn't lose her stomach contents.
"What's wrong?" asked Hermione.
"I think I have flu," Fleur answered, as the pain receded and she didn't have to run away to vomit. "I'm all right. I feel a bit sick on and off."
"I'm sure there's something you can take to help," offered Hermione, as she was looking around for a nurse.
"No. No, I don't think my flu needs any attention," said Fleur, trying to distract any worry Hermione might have. "There are bigger issues now. Besides, I had some sort of tonic earlier, and I'm not feeling as bad as I was."
They hardly had any time to speak more before everything kicked off again, and then they had to deal with the death of Harry, which had been, thankfully, a short period of grieving, due to his miraculous return to life. He was back and he finally finished it, there in front of them all. Voldemort was no more.
There had been skirmishes, as the remaining Death Eaters fought their way to freedom - or to capture - but finally there seemed a moment when it was truly over. There were no more curses being cast, and the only bangs and thuds to be heard now were from precariously lodged masonry, falling or collapsing. Everywhere felt suddenly large and empty, almost as if Hogwarts had become a vacuum, where the noise and cacophony of battle had been consumed.
Several Order members and groups of students had split off to deal with the last few Death Eaters and remaining creatures whom had taken Voldemort's side, and gradually everyone gravitated back to what was left of the Great Hall. Many hugs were had, along with exhausted groans, as people were at last able to sit down and rest. Fleur hadn't strayed far from the Great Hall, as her energy levels were falling again; she almost went looking for a bottle of the tonic she had had before, because it had at least lifted her foggy mind and lessened some of her symptoms, but she couldn't see any nearby. She waited and hoped with all her heart that Hermione would come back in one piece once more.
If I am pregnant, or something like that... thought Fleur, allowing that alarming notion to go through her mind again. Then we can all deal with it together. Not just Hermione, but Bill too. But please let her be all right. Anything after tonight is something we can work with.
A few minutes passed, and gradually the Weasley family came back into the Hall, for which she was relieved. Bill hadn't been too far away, and had been fighting just outside the Great Hall and she smiled to see him safe and well. She shared hugs with Bill and her in-laws, thankful that they hadn't been hit with more loss, although she hadn't seen Ron yet. Time seemed to drag on, and Fleur assumed that Hermione was probably talking with Harry and Ron, which was logical; she was sure she would know if the younger woman had been hurt, and it didn't feel like it. The Frenchwoman found a bench with Bill and they sat on it.
"She's fine," said Bill, quietly to her. "I saw her in the courtyard with Ron and Harry."
"I thought she might be." Fleur tilted her head to one side. "That is to say, I didn't feel that she had...gone."
"Perhaps you might get more privacy if you go to her, rather than wait for her to come in here," said Bill.
"I'm such a bitch!" said Fleur suddenly.
"What?!"
"You're my husband, you've lost your brother, and you're telling me where my lover is and that I should go to her...I'm a bitch!"
Bill got hold of her hand. "No you're not. We've been caught up in a weird world, and there are many circumstances that make our real lives the complicated mess that they are. I'm not exactly Mr. Wonderful either," he lowered his voice further. "The times I've hurt you..."
"You didn't mean to...that was...well, that was different."
"Go and find her, Fleur," said Bill, as he gave her hand a little squeeze. "I have a lot of things to go through with the family...what with Fred..."
"...I should be here with you and if you want me here I'll stay," said Fleur, understanding that there was a lot of family business to be undertaken and that although she might feel very uncomfortable or out of place, she should stay.
"You're family, Fleur," added Bill. "I just think you might prefer not to be here for all the...well...grubby facts and...stuff. You can stay if you want to, but I think you should go and see Hermione."
"I'm here if you ever need anything, but I understand what you're saying," she answered, knowing that it was possible, with the grief so raw and near to the surface, that she might feel awkwardly out of place in such an intense family situation, or that Bill was even wondering if his mother might decide to pick on her to vent her frustration. She kissed his cheek and walked out of the Hall.
There were very few people in the courtyard now, and most were making their way to the Great Hall, in various states of fitness; from limps to extreme fatigue, causing any walking to be done very slowly. She looked ahead, and could make out Harry, Ron and Hermione at the end of the courtyard near the entranceway to one of the other courtyards. None of the three had seen Fleur, and while she was still several paces away, Hermione had turned and walked through the passageway to the next courtyard. Fleur groaned inwardly, wishing she didn't have further to walk after her. As she got closer to Ron and Harry she heard them talking.
"It's hard to explain," Harry said. "I need to think it all through before I even try to explain it fully. I mean, I spoke with Dumbledore...or...I think I did."
"That alone sounds like a very confusing situation to think through. I'm really glad you're back, though, mate. I think everyone who's not a Death Eater are too," said Ron, with a grin, and when he looked round he saw Fleur. "Hi, Fleur, everyone all right back there?"
"Yes, all your family are in the Great Hall. They're okay," replied Fleur. "Where did Hermione go?"
"She was concerned about some wall going to fall over or something," said Ron, then he laughed. "She's always worrying and thinking about some guff or other..."
"Guff? What guff, Ronald?" said the mildly amused Hermione, as she reappeared into the courtyard.
"You know, all those things you're always fussing about. You were always like a teacher even when we were First Years."
"Ooo, watch out, Ron!" Harry laughed.
Hermione gave a mock, disapproving scowl.
"See? It's like going out with a teacher!" insisted Ron.
"Going out?" asked Harry, interested, with a raised eyebrow.
Ron went bright red, as did Hermione, and when she saw Fleur her blush turned a deeper red. "Well, you know...like people, who go out...shopping, but together...like...or mow the lawn...but together, like really good friends...," Ron spluttered.
Please shut up now, Ron! Thought Hermione. I'll tell Fleur everything, but not NOW!
Fleur had been watching the exchange, initially entertained, but then her amusement dropped with the last question. She stared at Hermione, at the girl's blush. Something wasn't right, something was telling her that something wasn't right.
"Bloody hell!" said Harry, mock coughing. "I'm dead for five minutes and you two get engaged!"
"Engaged?!" Ron said. "Don't be mental! Hermione and I...well, that is to say...we're..."
Fleur was hanging on to every word and feeling sick again, and all her exhaustion and weariness was catching up with her. She nearly asked a question herself, but held back, as her mind whirled around the possibilities. Hermione probably had to let him think she'd go out with him, to shut him up, she thought, logically, and a lot more rationally than she expected.
"Oh come on!" said Harry. "You're even wearing his clothes, Hermione!"
"WHAT?" Hermione squeaked. "I am NOT!"
"Why is there a scrap of his shirt around your arm?" asked Harry, totally enjoying the attention being taken from himself and hoping that finally his two best friends had indeed got together, after years of hearing them complain about the other to him. "Was that for luck?"
"I...I..," spluttered Hermione now.
"She had a cut!" said an exasperated Ron. "A bad cut, from a flying piece of metal from that cup horcrux, which she destroyed, I might add."
"Aww, and you wrapped her arm with a piece of your own shirt, Ron? That's like one of those knights out of a fairytale," said Harry, enjoying his friends' discomfort.
"I thought the cut wasn't bad?" asked Fleur, trying desperately to keep her breathing under control. She assumed that this was the cut that she had seen the blood from earlier, but not had a chance to inspect, and if so, it had indeed been a bad one and not as light as Hermione had tried to brush it off as. She was very aware that in her tired and weary state, the veela within her was very near to the surface, and hearing that Hermione had been hurt like that, while she wasn't there, made her feel angry and passionate at the same time.
"It's all right, really it is. It did bleed a bit, as you can see on my jeans, but it will be fine," said Hermione. She desperately wanted to get away from the current situation and have a moment with Fleur alone. "Fleur, perhaps you'll come with me to look at this wall. I've put a spell on it to hold it, but I think it will need something more." Hermione turned to go back through the passageway and Fleur, relieved, followed her.
As they walked through the passageway and were nearly out into the adjoining courtyard, they heard Harry say. "Such a nice friend, to use your own shirt?!"
"Oh for fuck's sake!" said Ron. "We kissed, okay?"
Fleur froze, nausea rising fast and an ache rising from her stomach with it. What?! She must have said it out loud as Hermione stopped and turned to her. Before the brunette said anything, they heard more.
"Are you sure it was a kiss?" asked Harry, teasingly. "...and she wasn't blowing some fluff off your shoulder!"
"I liked you better, before you died!" Ron said. "We kissed, okay? My lips, her lips, joined for a lot longer than a peck too, and she seemed to like it. Happy? Anyway, I'm going back to the Great Hall, are you coming, or are you going to dawdle around here?"
"The Great Hall it is," said Harry, as he and Ron walked off, their voices getting fainter, but not before they heard him say. "And the Hermione thing? About bloody time, Ron! Perhaps you'll both stop being so sodding neurotic about each other around me, now! Honestly...sometimes..."
Fleur had slowly turned to look at Hermione. Is this the thing that's wrong? thought Fleur. She kissed Ron because she wanted to? Nooo!
"Fleur, it's...,"
The blonde woman stared at Hermione in the half-light of the early morning, not sure what to do, so she turned and carried on walking until they reached the second courtyard, which was empty of anyone, or anything alive, anyway. Fleur sat on a stone bench, and tried to concentrate on her breathing. In, two, three...out, two, three...
Hermione sat next to her, desperate to hold Fleur and kiss her, and knowing she couldn't, which then made her feel more awkward. "It's not what you think," she said, feeling dreadful. At the same time she felt she had done nothing wrong and she was certain and knew that she loved Fleur and only Fleur. "We were destroying that horcrux, and it was terrible and such a monumental thing. It was killing a part of Voldemort's soul. And Ron was shielding me from the splinters of metal from the cup being destroyed and it...the kiss, just happened. I...I didn't know what to do...I..."
"How about not kissing him!?" said Fleur in a straight voice, with no hint of warmth or amusement. "That would have been something you could have done."
"I wish I hadn't kissed him, honestly I do...but it happened, it just happened," said Hermione. "It was the moment, the right moment that that kind of thing happens, when something huge happens and he and I were just there together." Hermione knew how pathetic it sounded, but she realized that it really had been the moment that had caused the kiss, and her history with Ron too.
Fleur's mind was reeling and she felt very ill. She knew she had to distract herself. "You got hurt destroying that horcrux?"
Hermione was relieved to move on to something slightly different too. "I was nervous about doing it, and rightly so. It was pretty powerful."
"What was it, exactly? You said it was a cup?"
"Helga Hufflepuff's cup. It...it's what we found in Bellatrix's vault at Gringotts," said Hermione.
"We heard about a break-in," said Fleur. "I hoped and hoped you were safe. As no Death Eaters were broadcasting your deaths, we hoped it was the case."
"It was crazy down there. The Bellatrix disguise only worked for a time, and Griphook left us for dead; the only way we got out alive was on the back of a dragon..." Hermione stopped as she looked at Fleur.
Feeling a twinge of pain in her chest, Fleur had grimaced and taken a couple of breaths, aware that she was feeling a kind of despair, and she considered it might have been from Hermione admitting the dangers she had been in and her closeness to death. When Hermione reached out a hand to touch her arm she shrugged it off. "I'm okay...so...you said you escaped?"
"Yes," said Hermione, regarding Fleur with concern. "It's a long story and not one I want go through yet."
"When you're ready, you know I'll listen," offered Fleur, feeling quite unwell and using a lot of energy to hide the extent of it. "Did you find any more horcruxes?"
"Three more," said Hermione, who had the grace to look slightly bashful, remembering that she had never told the Frenchwoman that their main mission was looking for horcruxes all along and not a hopeful side search. "Ravenclaw's diadem was destroyed in the fiendfyre in the Room of Requirement, something I never want to face again." Seeing Fleur grimace again, and guessing it might be because the protective veela was feeling affronted, at not being there to protect her, she quickly added, "Voldemort's snake was a horcrux too, and the last one was Harry."
"Harry?" asked a puzzled Fleur. "Harry is a horcrux? He has a piece of Voldemort's soul within him?"
"Not anymore," said Hermione with a sigh. "He had to die, by Voldemort's hand. We...we were hiding when Voldemort killed Snape at the Shrieking Shack, and before he died he gave Harry his memories to use in the pensieve in Dumbledore's office. That's when Harry knew the truth and that it was always going to have to be death in order for him to live and kill Voldemort...as complicated as that sounds. I can't believe he went off to his death, knowing that...knowing..." She tailed off.
Fleur could see Hermione was disturbed and it also disturbed Fleur, thanking fate that it was Harry and not Hermione having to walk to her death. As she felt another twinge of pain and nausea hit her, she decided to take her mind off it again. "Can I look at your arm? See that it's not serious?" she said, in as soft a voice as she could manage.
"I think I managed to get a few drops of dittany on to it when I was dealing with the burns we all got from the Room of Requirements, but I'm sure it looks worse than it is, if anything is left to see."
I wonder if that's why my hands felt like they were burning? thought Fleur. It would make sense that I felt it too.
Hermione proffered her injured arm and tried to undo the small knot Ron had tied with the ripped ends of the shirt material, but couldn't manage it. She was about to pull out her wand when Fleur held her arm and untied it for her. As Fleur touched the material, her fingers tingled and almost burned, and she was filled with the scent of Ron, and it was then she knew for sure what was wrong and what had happened when she had hugged Hermione back in the Great Hall: the young woman had Ron's scent all over her. Fleur forced herself to take the remainder of the shirt bandage off Hermione's arm, but she could feel pain much worse in her chest. She swallowed hard, and felt herself begin to turn hot, feverishly so.
"It should have been me!" Fleur snapped uncontrollably, almost making a growling noise. "If you were with me, you wouldn't have been hurt!"
Taken aback at Fleur's sudden outburst, Hermione gently touched Fleur's hand. "We don't know that. This past night has been crazy. I'm just glad we both survived it."
"I thought you were mine, Hermione. I thought you were with me."
"I am!" Hermione quickly replied. "I am yours. I've...I've thought of you so much since I left..."
"But you kissed him, you smell of him. You liked kissing him...I know it...you..."
"For so many years I've wanted to kiss him," said Hermione, truthfully. "It took me by surprise and the whole situation was...it was crazy...I didn't stop kissing him...because.."
"You don't really love me?!" Fleur, now had to hunch over as the pain wracked her body. Hermione was deeply concerned and put an arm around her, but Fleur flinched it off. "Don't touch me! You kiss whoever is there, you don't love me! I gave you everything. I thought it meant something to you?! I...I gave myself to you, and you don't want it. I...I gave..."
"I do love you, Fleur," said Hermione, feeling sick and her chest aching for Fleur. "I love you so much. I know and understand even more how much I love you. That kiss means nothing, and he'll soon know that I don't want anything with him. As soon as it happened, I thought of you and wanted you..."
"I've given myself to you...and you...you just throw it...away...you kiss...him..." Fleur then cried out in pain and fell off the stone bench onto the ground and seemed to almost convulse for a few moments, before going still.
"FLEUR!?" Hermione, went to the ground beside her, not knowing what was happening. Fleur's eyes were only half open and she was hardly conscious. The younger woman didn't know what to do; she couldn't leave Fleur and run off for help, she wasn't sure if she could Apparate them anywhere within Hogwarts, and wasn't sure where to take them; no one had a mobile phone and she didn't have hers either, so she did the only thing she could think of and sent up red flares from her wand, hoping someone would see them, as she frantically tried to see if Fleur had some injury she didn't know about.
In moments Bill arrived, which in a lot of ways wasn't all that surprising. He looked at Fleur, his face a picture of worry. He looked at Hermione and then back to Fleur. "What happened?"
Hermione began to say that Fleur and herself had been talking and she had had some pain and that she had fallen to the ground, but Bill had sensed something else. "What else happened?" He pinned Hermione with a stare. Somehow she knew that he knew there was something else, so instead of trying to get out of it, she told him everything in as concise a way as possible.
"What did I tell you?" he said, angrily.
"I...to never reject her," said Hermione, understanding what he meant, and quickly added. "And I didn't. I told her the kiss just happened, that I love her, I still love only her."
"She's been ill for a couple of days, and hearing that you kissed Ron, with all this other stuff happening, has probably pushed her over the edge. Why did you have to kiss him? I told you not to hurt her!"
"I...how could being taken by surprise and being kissed by Ron hurt her?" asked an incredulous Hermione, who was feeling slightly wary of what Bill might say or do and feeling devastated that she might be the cause of whatever was happening to Fleur. "I told her it means nothing, and it was just the situation. I love her. I love her, Bill. I told her so."
"I don't know what exactly happens to a veela when they're rejected, or feel they're rejected, I was only warned by her mother and grandmother that she might get very, very angry and it was something that I should never do," Bill said as he was looking over Fleur for any injuries. "This doesn't seem right, though. We need to get her inside."
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Fleur was not completely aware of everything after she had sat on the stone bench. She didn't remember arguing with Hermione, or falling onto the ground, or Bill coming to her. She knew she must be asleep, or allowed to drop off, as she had seemingly dreamed or imagined herself into her calm relaxing field, and was walking to where she knew there was a little building. She went to the door and found the ornately carved door shut; she pushed against it and found it would not open. She felt frustrated in her sleep and began kicking at the door, and banging her hands against it. The actions made her feel hot and sweaty and exhausted.
Several times she found herself in that world, going to the door and finding it shut and either locked or barred; she was unable to imagine it open, or physically open it, and the building was closed to her. On about the fifth or sixth visit she remembered, she kicked at the bottom of the door and was shocked to find the door burst into flames. She could feel the heat from the flames on her face, arms, legs, hands and feet. Not fire! she thought.
"Get back from there, you silly girl!" a familiar voice said.
Backing away, so she could no longer feel the heat of the burning door, Fleur turned to see her grandmother standing there, but looking very opaque and almost ghostly. "Grandma?"
"It's my fault," the older woman suddenly said, as she shook her head. "I thought you would see and understand, but you didn't. I expected too much and I should have explained it years ago and now I think something else entirely has happened. Hold on, my beautiful one. I'm coming to you. I know it's safe now and even if it wasn't I'd be at your side..."
Fleur could no longer see the relaxing world she always visited and saw nothing except blackness. She occasionally heard voices: concerned voices, frustrated voices and loving voices. Her eyelids were too heavy to open, and she didn't have the energy to speak or answer anything she heard. She almost felt she was trapped in a world where she was blind and mute. As those thoughts came to her, on and off, she would be gripped with fear and pain through her whole body, before it receded as she moved into deep sleep again.
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Four days after the Battle of Hogwarts -as everyone was calling it- had finished, Hermione sat in the master bedroom at Shell Cottage, looking out of the window at the sea. Occasionally she would look back into the room and at Fleur in the bed: a very gaunt-looking Fleur who was worrying all of the Weasley family, and their friends, with her mysterious illness. When no one could get her to wake up she had been taken to the magical hospital, St. Mungo's, but the medical witches and wizards there said that they didn't know what was wrong with her, but whatever it was they had nothing to treat her with. They suggested that Fleur was suffering from shock, from the events of the battle, and to give her rest and she would wake up eventually. The hospital had been inundated with cases so they didn't really have room for someone who was, in their opinion, basically healthy: that is to say, healthier than most of their other patients.
Hermione had wondered how she would explain her wish to stay by Fleur's bedside; she didn't have to explain it to Bill, but the others were a more difficult problem. However, she thought it through and simply and truthfully told them that Fleur had been there for her, after Bellatrix, and that she owed her the same care in return. That explanation seemed to satisfy everyone. She didn't have a home of her own to go to, thanks to sending her parents away, so she needed to stay somewhere anyway. She felt a little ill herself, and was sick once or twice, which she put down to exhaustion, shock from the events, worry for Fleur and she also considered that maybe Fleur had indeed had flu and she was experiencing some of the effects.
On that fourth day, with no change in Fleur's condition, Bill had come into the room. "I'm thinking I ought to contact her grandmother."
"Not her mother?" asked Hermione.
"I think this might be veela connected on some level," he said. "And she always spoke of her grandmother for that. Her mother had veela blood but didn't show the elements that Fleur possessed."
"I think her family should know, and it might as well be the grandmother," agreed Hermione.
"I'll look through our things and try to find her contact details," said Bill. "Maybe she'll have some answers." He leaned over and kissed Fleur's forehead. "Her skin is still so warm and feverish...I don't understand..."
Hermione moved to sit on the bed and used the bowl of cold water, on the bedside cabinet, to dampen a cloth and pressed it against the blonde woman's forehead and cheeks. "Let's hope your grandmother knows something. Or at least if a veela with a fever needs a different cure."
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The following day Bill was about to sit down and write a message to Fleur's grandmother, while Hermione had gone to sit with Fleur again, seeing no change in her lover.
"Why won't you wake up?" Hermione asked the sleeping form of Fleur, as she tenderly stroked a hot cheek with the back of her hand, almost asking the air, as she knew the blonde woman probably couldn't hear her. "I love you. You have to know that; there is no uncertainty. I love you and only you. Please come back to us, back to me. Despite how close we've been I still don't know much about you. I have so much I want to learn about you, so much time I want to spend with you."
As they had been doing, since they were allowed to take Fleur home, Hermione was able to get some fluids into the blonde woman; she didn't awaken but was capable of swallowing on reflex. Hermione felt forlorn and guilty, knowing that her small moment of letting her guard down around Ron might have led to this: pushing an already ill Fleur over the edge. "Please don't say it's my fault?!" she said to the air.
"It's not, it is my fault!"
Hermione spun round to see a tall, elegant and beautiful older woman standing in the doorway to the bedroom. "You're...you're Fleur's grandmother?" she spluttered. She then tried to speak in French, but only managed to say a couple of sentences before the woman held up her hand.
"No, it is not necessary. English is fine with me. I speak it more than French these days," said the new arrival, speaking an almost accentless English. The woman closed the bedroom door and sat on the bed beside her granddaughter and held her hand, touched her forehead and seemed to be checking her over.
"Oh...oh...okay," Hermione said, feeling very slow and awkward. "That was quick!?"
"What do you mean?"
"Bill was only then writing to you?!"
"I was on my way here, anyway," replied the older woman.
"Where is Bill?" asked Hermione. "He knows you're here, doesn't he?"
"This room is not for Bill. Not at this moment, and he knows that."
"Oh...do you want me to leave?"
"No. If I am right you need to be here too."
"You...err...you speak perfect English?" asked Hermione, still metaphorically scrabbling around to find her footing.
"I studied at Cambridge, many, many years ago to enlighten my non-magical interests. I speak many languages, some not even official, but I tend to speak English the most. I've always spoken it with Fleur." The woman gave a half smile.
"So Mrs...Madam...what do I...?"
"No titles. Marriage was a long ago situation for me. To give you my full name would take too long, but you may call me Aimée."
"Aimée, do you know what's wrong with her? She was supposed to have felt ill for a day or so and got worse, and then...and then the battle happened and afterwards we...had a disagreement...well, that is to say," Hermione faltered and blushed. "She wasn't happy about something that happened, even though it didn't change...err..."
"There's no need to dither around, I know what you are, and..."
"What I am?" Hermione suddenly had awful thoughts that, although Fleur had spoken of it being common for veelas to have women partners, that perhaps this particular veela disapproved.
"If you would let me finish," Aimée said, but not unkindly. "You are the one: her true match. The one she set her heart on years ago. It is fairly rare these days for the object of that match to ever reciprocate and we therefore settle for the love of - I hate to say it - mere humans. When the true one is a woman, things are very much more powerful."
"Oh," was all Hermione could reply with, still unable to hide a blush.
"It is my fault for expecting, and perhaps hoping for, too much. I had seen so much more of the veela in Fleur than her mother, to an extent that I felt sure my granddaughter possessed much more than usual. I told her that when she came to a point of 'knowing' that she had to see me to learn more, because I was so sure that it would come to her as it would a more strongly blooded veela. I think she reached that point and was unaware of a lot of things." Aimée said all of this as she continued to check the sleeping Fleur, and as she finished talking she briefly closed her eyes, sniffed a couple of times, held her granddaughter's hands, then placed them neatly back on the turned back sheets. "My experiment of wonderment with my granddaughter was not the right thing to do. And I have endangered her by not having the slightest idea that other things would happen too: things that I was sure would only ever be imaginative dreams."
"Do you know what's wrong with her?" Hermione asked again, hopefully.
"Yes, as a matter of fact I do. It's you."
"Me?" Hermione's voice came out in a high tone. "So, I am to blame for this. I never should have..."
"No my dear girl. You're the cause, but the fault is mine; the blame is mine."
Hermione raised a hand to her head, expecting it to ache at any moment. "Cause? I'm sorry, I don't know much about veelas. I don't understand. That is to say, if it is veela related?"
"There will be time for more details later," Aimée said. "For the moment, I can guess, and know, that you and my granddaughter consummated your relationship, did you not?"
"Err...well..." Hermione blushed profusely again. "Yes."
"And going by her searching for you in the other world, you left her soon after to take your part in this awful war?"
Hermione nodded, fascinated by what the comment 'the other world' meant, but decided not to confuse the matter further and tried to concentrate on what the older woman was saying to her now. "I only had a couple of days with her after...after we reached that point."
"I never considered it possible," Aimée sighed, almost muttering to herself as much as to Hermione. "I thought with the other thing, she would have realized she had reached that point to come and ask me, or at least write and ask me, but to have that other thing happen too?! She was so unprepared! I suppose young people today tend to just dive in with a lack of awareness. I expected too much."
"Should we have waited?" asked Hermione, trying without success to stop blushing, but knowing that her having made love with Fleur was somehow an issue now.
"Ideally, yes. In an ideal world she would have brought you with her to me. I would have told her what she and you needed to know and then you could have stayed the three weeks you needed among the veelas in a safe place, so none of this would have happened."
"Do I need to be approved by the veelas?" Hermione wondered. "Or presented officially, or something?"
"That's just for show; some of our community's more nosy members would insist on it, but it would have been for Fleur's health first and foremost." Once again Aimée sighed. "After you and Fleur first made love you started to seal an attachment to each other, which is particularly strong in female partnerships with those of veela blood. You need to be with each other every day for three weeks to complete the attachment."
"Three weeks?"
"I know, it does sound a bit excessive." Aimée gave a half smile. "If you are apart before then it is as if you have rejected the veela. It is like you have broken their heart, or taken away a part of them, and the veela within does not understand that you will be back together again soon. This is partly what has happened to Fleur. What was the disagreement, you spoke of?"
Feeling very sheepish, Hermione explained the situation with Ron. "I told her I loved her. I told her I was still hers, but she didn't listen, and then...this happened. And she's been like this ever since."
"She was jealous and convinced you had actually rejected her, even though you reassured her about it. Physically, within herself, her instincts were in such a muddle that she became fixated that you had left her, or didn't love her, as much as she thought. To physically love a true match, then be parted, is indeed a very serious situation and the delusion overtook her."
"So I am to blame, really?"
"No, no. How could you be? Both of you did not know. She always told me that you didn't even like her that much and that she was committed to making her marriage work. This was indeed a surprise turn of events."
"I knew I shouldn't reject her. I thought I hadn't but...poor Fleur," Hermione found tears in her eyes. "What's happening to her, is she asleep in shock?"
"Partly," said Aimée, and amazingly she added, just as calmly, "Her body is shutting down."
"What?" Hermione nearly yelped. "No. She can't die, that's...that's..."
"Not going to happen," said Aimée. "Now I'm here, you're here and we all know what's going on."
"What do you need? Ingredients for a potion? Whatever you need, I'll get it," said Hermione, tears now wet on her cheeks and still not entirely sure of what wasgoing on.
"I need you both to come back to France with me, now. You must get a message to your family once we're in France. I will write a message to them too if..."
"I don't have any family," said Hermione. She didn't have the time, or the desire, to explain what she had done to her parents. She had thought of them on and off ever since she had parted from them, while trying to stay focused and not allowing herself to brood over the situation, but she had resigned herself to perhaps never finding them again and if she did, that she might not be able to reverse the spell she had performed on them. So she said, as vaguely and as simply as she could, "It's complicated, but I don't have any family, now."
"Ah," said Aimée. "I'm sorry..."
"What about Bill?" Hermione quickly asked, not wanting to dwell on her parents at that moment. "What do we tell people?"
"Where you need to be, there are not many men, and it would be unwise for Bill in particular to be there. I will explain it to him; he's always seemed a bright man, I'm sure he will accept it. He has to, for Fleur's sake. For others, it should be enough that I have requested you to accompany me and help, as you were here already. Prepare anything you need and be ready to leave in a few minutes. I'll go and talk to Bill."
Aimée left the room, leaving Hermione slightly stunned, but relieved that there was an answer for Fleur's condition, however embarrassing or awkward the situation was going to become. She felt nauseous again, but swallowed the bile back down to concentrate on what she had to do and what might happen next. She had no parents to explain her actions to, and Harry and Ron would have to wait. She quickly gathered her things and put them into her beaded bag; she didn't have many belongings left. She then packed some of Fleur's things too. She looked back at the sleeping Fleur and leaned over and kissed her forehead. "Everything is going to be okay," she whispered, more for her own sake than her lover's.
Bill walked into the room, with a strained look on his face, as he sat on the bed next to Fleur. "I can't believe this. I should be with her as well."
"Things have changed," Aimée said as she came back into the bedroom. "It is beyond what anyone can do in this country. As I explained to you, it is up to me and Hermione. Fleur needs to be among veelas to be well again."
"Can't I stay somewhere nearby?" Bill asked. "Use a tent in the next village or something?"
"I'm sorry, this is how it has to be."
Hermione felt very sorry for Bill, and felt incredibly bad for being the true 'one' for Fleur and seeming to be the cause and cure for Fleur's current state of health. She didn't know whether she could say anything to him or not, but he saved her the trouble of wondering.
"Look after her, Hermione. Please look after her." Bill fixed her with a penetrating gaze, not angry, but determined and worried. "Please write to me, and if anything, anything at all happens...let me know, yeah?"
"Of course," said Hermione. "I feel bad leaving you like this, and having to face all the others and their questions."
"I'll manage it. Besides, a lot of it isn't their business," said Bill. "I'll deal with it."
"We have to go, now," said Aimée, as she looked on Bill kindly. "My granddaughter is very special to me, and you know that everything will be done to help her: everything."
Bill held one of his wife's hands and kissed it, then kissed her hot cheek. "See you again, soon," he said, as he stood back, his jaw twitching as he tried not to grind his teeth and to maintain control of his emotions.
Aimée sat on the bed next to Fleur, taking a firm grip on the younger woman's arm, and directing Hermione to take her other arm, and they were gone from the bedroom at Shell Cottage in a flash.
A/N: As far as I know there's no great detail about Fleur's grandmother, so I've elaborated more with my own ideas. Don't worry, this is not heading for one of those weird and annoying memory loss stories. It's a bit different to that...