Discalimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.

A/N: Thank you for the many messages and reviews, even the harsh ones. As far as a Harry/Ginny developement, I haven't wholly decided but am leaning toward not. Most things can be forgiven, but many are not forgotten. Such things are hard to get past when persuing a committment, but not impossible. I guess we'll just have to wait and see what Harry is willing to do? MK

Chapter Twelve: Finding the will to live

She once thought she could bear anything, bear any burden that her fellow champions could, but Harry had proved her wrong and he being little more than a boy.

She'd grown since then. Had hardened her resolve, was more selfless and self sufficient. The tri-wizard tournament had matured and strengthened her, motherhood had finished the task.

All that she had suffered in the last war against Voldemort was as nothing to the agony that tore through every fiber of her being as she held the gaze of loathing she thought she'd never see within the green eyes beneath her. She bore it with silent resolve at first.

How she had managed to get him still alive to Hogwarts she couldn't fathom, but she had. St. Mungo's had been too far for her to try to dual apparate, thus Hogwart's was the better choice for more than just that reason.

Thank Merlin above that Madam Pomfrey tended to forgo summer holiday to remain in residence with her friend, Headmistress McGonagal.

The matron had been aghast at the horrific wound that rent his chest down to the organs beneath. She's all but pleaded to take him to St., but Fleur couldn't and wouldn't take him there for three reasons:

She was the best healer in England.

Hogwarts was a nigh impregnable fortress, where his safety and privacy could practically be guaranteed.

Lastly, Harry trusted Madam Pomfrey with his life and had done so many times in the past.

Pomfrey could argue away the first two, but not that last, and it had been that alone that had convinced her:

Harry trusted her.

Harry Potter did not trust easily, but when he did, he did completely. His trust was perhaps the highest honor a healer like Pomfrey could aspire to.

The matter settled, she set to work at a pace that bordered on shear madness.

The first part had been the worst or so Fleur had thought, but she'd been wrong.

Harry needed to consume blood replenishing potions. Massive quantities were needed to make up for the critical amount of blood he'd lost.

"Can't you put et in the muggle way, with a needle?" Fleur had asked hopefully.

"I could, but that would take too long and he needs as much as he can hold and he needs it now!"

Pomfrey made to remove the petrificus charm, but Fleur forestalled her.

"Wha…?" The matron began to object but Fleur interjected, "There's no time to explain."

She seized the first of many vials and held it to his lips. "I know you have heard Mademoiselle, so please,

'Arry? " she begged, tipping the vial to his lips and pouring the contents in his numb mouth.

With a silent prayer, Fleur waved her wand over him and removed the petrificus charm.

Harry immediately spat the replenishing potion back into Fleur's face.

Madam Pomfrey gasped indignantly, but Fleur waved her to silence as she reapplied the petrifying charm, heedless of the rivulets of potion running down her cheeks.

Pomfrey's face went ashen as she began to realize that Harry was not fighting to live, but fighting to die!

Fleur swore at Harry in French for several moments, angered by the triumphant gleam in his petrified eyes.

She finally managed to calm herself and promised to conjure a long tube that she would shove down his throat and pour in potion till it came out his ears if he didn't cooperate.

"I mean it, monamei." She promised in a threatening tone, holding the vial up meaningfully.

Fleur removed the charm and though he glared viciously at her, he drank vial after vial of the foul potion without complaint, at least not any verbal complaint. His eyes though, those beautiful green orbs that usually held her with such love and esteem, now glowered at her with deepest loathing.

Then things worsened, or so she thought.

Pomfrey apologetically informed them that due to the nature of the injury, she couldn't risk an anesthetic as his blood pressure was dangerously low due to extreme blood loss.

She would have to repair his injured chest without analgesics and since she couldn't risk any movement on his part, he would have to be under a paralyzing charm. The charm would prevent movement and most sensations, but the wound was deep- Harry would feel every nuance of pain without so much as the luxury of being able to scream his torment.

His eyes held Pomfrey. The trust reflected therein both reassured and strengthened her resolve to continue.

Throughout the procedure, those same petrified eyes held Fleur with the utmost contempt. She shuddered inwardly, but bore his rage with calm and grace.

She spoke comfortingly to him. Told jokes, sang even. Her voice was nearly as beautiful and calming as phoenix song.

She held his limp hand to her cheek and kissed it reverently. She wiped his sweating brow gently with a cool cloth as Pomfrey probed deeply into his chest.

Her heart was breaking with the knowledge of the incredible pain they were putting him through. Some part of her knew without having the chance to test her theory, that Harry would have bore the pain silently with or without the Paralytic charm.

She even went so far as to talk about the rest of the family, Ginny predominantly mentioned. She begged him to try and understand that Ginny was talking through her fear. That she loved him and was afraid for him, but just didn't know how to express it.

Impossibly, despite the Paralytic charm, Harry's eyes shifted away from hers.

Merlin above, must he suffer so? she prayed silently.

Part of her cursed herself for forcing him to bear this physical pain and to once again have to embrace the lonely despair that was his life once he was healed anew.

Another part of her delighted in the knowledge that he was alive and as Hermione had said; "As long as he lives, there's hope."

As exhaustion crept in and pulled at the corners of her eyes. Fleur found herself wishing for the thousandth time this morning that Hermione was here now.

Pomfrey was finally finished and closed the wound. Exhausted as she was, the healer went to her stockroom to retrieve a strong analgesic and a dreamless sleep potion.

There, in that brief moment of relief, that was when Fleur beheld the worst of it.

A silent tear tracked down Harry's too pale cheek.

He was not crying for the pain he was in, but for the pain of continued existence. She knew it was that which broke his resolve.

While Fleur and Pomfrey had been struggling to save Harry's life, Bjorn Dykstra was seeing to the comfort of his men, though there was little comfort to be had.

An entire platoon, twelve highly trained handpicked and battle hardened men, was screaming out not in pain, but terror, when the First Knight arrived at the infirmary.

Those were the knights that were still coherent enough to even articulate sounds. Two or three others were in a catatonic like state, and another was placed in a chemically induced coma to preserve his flagging sanity.

The name Potter was frequently shouted. Not in fear, but in the hope of rescue. Whatever these men had faced, one thing was certain; Harry Potter had not only saved them from it, but now was counted on to protect them from the nightmarish memory of what they'd experienced.

Without Harry's presence, there was no rest to be had until sedated.

Before he had succumbed to sedation, Mike Sanders had made a semblance of a report to his commanding officer.

What he had divulged in those precious few moments before oblivion claimed him would forever burn in the First Knight's memory.

"T-They came out of the W-W-Weasley home,….but it wasn't a home, not any more. A p-portal of black f-flame. Screams,.. screams of the damned…OH GOD.." he clutched at the First Kight's arm half to reassure himself of human contact/half to press his point home so to make his commander understand.

"Not wraiths,…worse…n-nightmares….DEMONS!" Mike gasped as if he was choking on his own tongue.

"They erupted from the portal, an unending tide of decay and misery. Such hate… Such endless, mind numbing hate! They didn't just want us dead, t-they wanted us to suffer, b-b-but they never got the chance…"

Then Mike's anguished eyes filled with wonder as if an angel of God stood before him.

"S-Should have seen him…H-Harry- Magnificent. T-That sword... it was everywhere. W-We wouldn't have been wounded if we had stayed back like he t-told us, but we couldn't let him face it alone-COULDN'T!... but afraid…so afraid" Mike's voice trailed away as he wept ashamedly.

"Easy Mike" Bjorn consoled, clutching the man's shoulder in support, trying to guide him back down to rest.

"T-They came…. Came t-to help. C-Couldn't see them c-clearly, j-just wisps of light, but felt them, we a-all did. They gave us courage. We found our feet and went to guard his flank… not that we made the slightest difference. "

Bjorn's face paled in understanding, but he had to be sure. He knew what Harry had been working on in secret.

"Who came Mike? Who did you feel?"he pressed anxiously, hopefully even.

"M-My dad, G-Gramps too… others…."

Mike Sander's father had died of lung cancer two years ago. Bjorn knew this as he and several knights had attended the funeral and proudly so.

"A-Are you sure, Mike?" Bjorn asked with renewed hope.

Mike nodded. "C-could smell cherry wood."

Bjorn nodded, having recalled that Mike's dad had smoked a pipe defiantly to the very end; he preferred cherry wood scented tobacco.

"A-At first I thought they were there for me. T-That I was gonna d-die. But,.. it was Harry. They came to help him, to fight alongside him. N-Never would've believed it, even for H-Harry?" Mike rasped in awe, his eyes vacantly seeing the memory play within his mind.

"H-He held them back. D-Drove them back. His sword was so bright,…like looking into the sun. H-He began to glow….l-looked like one of the s-spirits….beautiful. H-He forced that horde of nightmares back into the void,…and a-almost went after them….G-God in heaven!" Mike shuddered violently at that before he burst out the rest:

"HE WAS GOING TO FIGHT ALL THE WAY INTO HELL !" The words tore from Mike's raw throat before he slumped into his pillows-unconscious or so Bjorn thought.

Bjorn fell back into his chair staring vacantly, trying to imagine such a thing. In the silence of the now unconscious infirmary around him he heard Mike Sander's last awed words before he fell back into blessed unconsciousness.

" s-stopped him" he whispered. "they pulled him b-back from the void…the spirits-beautiful. Fought them, screamed at them to let him go….to let him finish it once and for all…they…pulled.. him…..back…

Mike Sander fell into a dreamless sleep and Bjorn Dykstra wept bitterly beside him.

What could a man have suffered in life that would take his fear of hell away from him? What could harden a resolve to the point that he would challenge hell itself on its own ground?

What would it take?

Not for the first time, Bjorn Dykstra had wished he had never sent Harry back to this accursed island. He cursed himself for his foolish sentimentality in thinking that his former friends could help mend his heart-so foolish.

Despite the thousands of lives saved at the night of the Harpies quidditch game.. he still wished he hadn't of sent him, but what would have been the cost if he hadn't?

How long he had sat there pondering these things at Mike Sanders bedside he couldn't guess, but he was grateful for the distraction when a gentle hand fell on his shoulder and drew him from his thoughts.

Hermione found the knight commander lost in troubled thoughts at Mike Sanders bedside. Fleur was back and had found Harry, but would say no more than to reassure their family that he was recovering and …well guarded.

It was that last vague bit of information that drove Bjorn Dykstra to his feet and sent Hermione scurrying after him.

He burst into the waiting area, oblivious to the startled gasps of the startled family hovering around the weary woman.

Ginny Weasley had been sedated and was sleeping on a nearby sofa, tended by her mother. Minister Weasley and Auror Captain-Ron Weasley had returned to the British Ministry and Bill Weasley had taken his and Fleur's daughter home to bed. That left the twins, Charlie and Percy Weasley along with their perspective dates, still in attendance.

Bjorn Dykstra marched directly toward the weary half veela, (still radiant despite everything she had been through), and demanded worriedly.

"Where is he?"

Fleur arched an eyebrow and returned with vague weariness. "Safe"

"How bad is he hurt?"

"Terribly" She returned with conviction, though held up her hand to forestall the torrent of worried enquiries on the tip of the Commander's tongue.

"He has been treated and is sleeping now. With Merlin's own grace, he may even recover"

Hermione gasped at the implication.

Bjorn rocked back a half step as if he'd been struck. His hand held the sword at his waist in a white knuckled grip.

"Tell me everything?" he pleaded worriedly.

"Non"

Bjorn's eyes softened. They pleaded with her. "I do not ask as a commander or even a knight, but as his friend. He is precious to me and mine; a brother to me, a son to my wife and a beloved uncle to our children."

Fleur glanced knowingly at the rest of the family nearby, hanging on her every word.

"Par le vous François? she inquired.

Bjorn nodded in understanding, Hermione listened intently at his shoulder as both understood French.

A weary, anxiety ridden torrent of information bubbled out the veela as she imparted having found Harry in a pool of his own blood at his parent's gravesite.

Her eyes fixed on Hermione pointedly as she glossed over the rest of the troubling night's activities.

Hermione understood the message in her friend's eyes… there was more to this story-much more.

When she was finished Bjorn cocked his head to one side considering her.

"You won't tell me where he is, will you?" he asked in English.

Fleur shook her head slowly in confirmation.

"His familiar will be worried for him" he coaxed.

"She is already with him" Fleur intoned solemnly, adding. "She iz beautiful and deadly, I zink he iz well guarded-no?" she cocked an expectant eyebrow.

Bjorn nodded his understanding and answered smirking."Her name is Sara, and he is well guarded –yes."

His smirk faded and a troubled expression stole over his face. "His sword? Does he have his sword with him?"

"Oui"

"It's in its scabbard-yes? You didn't draw the blade from its scabbard?" He questioned pensively, his voice held a slight tremble.

"I did not draw his blade, but he holds its handle in iz hand. He would not quiet until he held his sword." she answered meaningfully.

"Do not draw the sword, not for any reason, not ever."Bjorn warned her.

"I would not presume to draw a knight's sword without his permission, nor even with it." she added in perfect English and with conviction.

Bjorn nodded satisfied, adding. "If you need anything, anything at all…?"

His offer was a genuine one, full of concern and she was grateful for it

Fleur nodded. "Zank you, Commander. I shall, of course, keep you informed as best I may."

Bjorn appeared to visibly deflate in relief. "You have the knights' eternal gratitude. For me and my family, thanks alone will never be enough, but,... thank you."

Despite her weariness, Fleur returned his gratitude with an appreciative smile as she clarified.

"What I do iz for 'Arry , 'Mione and myself, but, thank you for your kindness."

Bjorn gave her a card with his phone and floo numbers on it. "Anytime day or night- do not hesitate to call for any reason. "

Without preamble, Bjorn dropped to one knee and kissed her trembling hand.

"On my word as First Knight of the Confederation- you have our favor. Ask what you will of us, if it is in our power or no, we will see it done."

He turned and in one fluid motion that betrayed the law of physics, rose and marched from the room without a backward glance, leaving a totally stunned Fleur Weasley gapping at his departure.

She barely had time to register the honor afforded her, before a soft hand took her arm and pulled her away gently out of hearing from the others.

"Take me to him." Hermione asked.

Fleur pulled back gently from her grasp, surprising Hermione who frowned at her with a hurt expression.

"Non,… not tonight. Not until we have ad a chance to talk. Come tomorrow for lunch and zen we shall talk."

Fleur left the room, leaving her trembling friend near frightened to tears. She did not wish to leave her this way, but there was just so much to discuss, so many secrets that she had accidentally learned and so many more that she couldn't begin to fathom.

One of the secrets, perhaps the most startling one of all, explained so much about the mystery that was Harry Potter and the astounding successes of his chosen profession. Her veela half reveled in the knowledge, but her human half suspected that she hadn't even begun to consider the full depth of the burden placed upon Harry's too strong shoulders.

She apparated home, checked her sleeping daughter as she did routinely whenever she was up during the night or first going to bed.

Once convinced that her daughter was safe and secure, she hesitantly made her way to her own bedroom.

Harry had always been a sore point between her and her husband, perhaps even a jealous one for Bill, but needlessly so.

She quietly stripped down to her undergarments and slid under the sheets, tremulously reaching out to share her husband's warmth.

Warm, loving arms pulled her to him and she gratefully accepted all that they offered.

They made love that night, filled with passion… and need; a need to connect, to reassure, to make sense in a world that no longer made sense.

Just to feel alive, desired, loved…. It was such a simply thing, so easily taken for granted by so many.

After spending a night at Harry's bedside and learning what she had,… Fleur knew that she would never, could never, take such simple pleasure for granted again.

As she drifted off to sleep sated and content, she wondered how she could begin to describe to her best friend, something that was near indescribable in its grace and purity, balanced by terrible need and despair.

Where to begin…

Bill had gratefully taken Wilhelmina to park for the afternoon, easily convinced that what she and Hermione needed to talk about was something he would never want to hear, and would never forget for the rest of his life. It would change everything for him by questioning his every belief.

She had put it simply to him. "You are not strong enough to hear what I must tell 'Mione. No one is, Bill. No one with a conscious would want to be."

"Then why tell Hermione at all? Why not just obliviate the memory and move on blissfully unaware?" he asked incredulously.

"I have considered it." she returned bluntly, startling him. "I will offer Hermione the same charity if she so chooses, but I will keep the burden if for no other reason than posterity's sake. Once things have played out, I will write what I know, a book perhaps. I will tell the world a story that will shame it to its core. A story about a man with the heart of a warrior and the soul of an angel. A story so full care and sacrifice. It needs to be told. People need to understand what they could aspire to. I will tell his story because it needs to be told more than any story that has ever been written before, save that of God's own blessed son."

Bill sat silently contemplating the breadth of her statement. After several long moments he added.

"I'll read it, cover to cover,… and I'll take its message to heart, but Harry will hate you for it. You know how he despises publicity. He'll never forgive you if you do it." He warned his wife.

What she said next shocked Bill.

"His mother will bless me for it. His father and God-father will rest easier, and Harry,…? Harry will be beyond caring then."

Hermione arrived early for lunch-no surprise there. They ate a simple meal of fruits and breads with a light lemon mousse for dessert.

The dishes were charmed to wash and tea was served before Fleur considered taking pity on her friend, who seemed to be developing a peculiar facial tic of a constantly reoccurring grimace as she waited in ever increasing frustration.

"For Merlin's sake, Fleur!" Hermione scathed. "What happened last night? Ron came home this morning pale as a ghost and shaking like a first year in Snape's potion class. He and Arthur took a squad of Unspeakables over to the Burrow to check things for themselves. They said it's gone! It burned down to the ground and the ground itself was tainted somehow? Ron swears nothing will ever grow there again. He said the whole place had an air about it that chilled to the very bone. He said he hadn't felt anything like it since the Chamber of Secrets and even that pales by comparison."

"I've never seen him so shaken, not even when he…. he and Harry….

Hermione's hands went to her face, stifling a sob of despair. "How did it come to this? How did we let it come to this? We're all guilty of it, all of us!"

She was nearly wailing now in her desperation to purge her troubled spirit. Fleur realized as she calmly listened that last night was a revelation for everyone around her, only most of them didn't have the luxury or the misfortune of seeing both sides of the whole.

"We placed our hopes, our expectations , on the shoulders of a child and he delivered. We had no right. No right!" Hermione shrieked.

"We robbed him of his childhood. Beaten, abused, manipulated…. There's absolutely no reason he shouldn't have turned dark- NONE! But he held true and fought and triumphed and then we took everything he had left. Everything but his dignity,… and now we're going to take that, aren't we? We're going to take it because it's all that he has left, and once that too is gone- it still won't be enough!"

Fleur smile grimly and simply agreed. "Oui"

Hermione's eyes flashed in fury. "How can you be so calm about this?"

Fleur cocked her head and returned "Would you rather I lied to you? Is sparing your feelings the only thing of importance zis afternoon?"

"You weren't there when Ginny woke up. Even though Molly had scrubbed her hands clean; Ginny kept screaming that she could see the blood. That she'd killed him. I almost brought her with me. I don't think she'll be able to finally calm down until she sees him alive for herself. You weren't there when Ron came home with a face like he'd stood before the gates of hell. You …."

"He az." Fleur interrupted her friend's rant.

"Wha,… what do you mean- 'he az'." She mimicked her friend's accent sarcastically.

"Ron az stood before ze gate of hell, or at least what remains of one." Fleur explained with cool resolve.

"Don't be dramatic." Hermione chastised clearly missing the seriousness off her friend's statement.

Fleur hissed her to silence and reiterated. "Ron stood before the ruins of one such gate, or portal if you will, but 'Arry? " Arry fought hell's minions last night. With no magic, not even a scrap of armor for protection, 'Arry drove ze demons of hell back into ze pit and zen,.. zen he tried to take his fight to Hell itself!"

Hermione sat gapping stupidly at her sister in-law, when she finally found her voice she stammered…

"That… that's not possible?" Her voice almost begged its denial.

"Because you wish it so?" Fleur demurred incredulously. "Dark magician's have summoned demons before- where did you zink zat they came from? When az ze impossible never aligned itself with 'Arry Potter?"

Hermione leapt out of her chair and argued more to herself than Fleur.

"Demons?!" She scathed incredulously, starting to pace as she conjectured. " Alright, sure, I could see Harry facing one or two in a pitched battle, but even Harry wouldn't dare to challenge the dark one's dominion openly. I don't know where you came up with such a ludicrous explanation for what happened…?"

"Enough!" Fleur barked blasting her friend with a full dose of her Veela ire. Her eyes glared briefly like a bird of prey.

Fleur was only half veela, and while she shared many of her forebear's abilities, a full transformation into a veela's avian form was beyond her. Though if angered enough she bore a fearsome resemblance, albeit briefly.

The effect was more than sufficient to startle even Hermione Granger-Weasley to utter silence.

Once calm enough to proceed, Fleur continued. "I do not make idle assumptions, nor do I exaggerate." She spoke in perfect English, which spoke volumes to Hermione regarding the seriousness of the situation.

"I come by this knowledge in a fashion for which I am not proud, but neither am I wholly sorry for."

Fleur proceeded to detail the events of last night leading up to the point of their current debate.

"Pomfrey gave Harry a dreamless sleep potion, and while he did drift into unconsciousness, he was anything, but relaxed as one would expect as a result from said potion, nor was he without dreams."

Fleur beautiful face twisted into a grimace as she recalled the previous night.

"He twisted and turned in his sleep. He cried out in denial, he shouted challenges. Despite the magical restraints in place as a safety measure to keep him from reopening the horrific wound in his chest, his thrashing was so terrible that he did tear it open anew. While Poppy Pomfrey worked through her exhaustion to close his wound, I called on my veela gift of empathy to try and clam him, to soothe his troubled dreams…."

"D-Did it work?" Hermione asked worriedly.

Fleur shook her head in denial. "Non. I only made things worse, both for Harry and myself. When my empathy touched Harry, I made a startling discovery, one that explains so much about Harry."

Hermione waited with bated breath while Fleur collected herself to continue; obviously whatever she had discovered was causing her a great deal of turmoil.

"'Arry is ze empathic." She said straight out.

Hermione gapped at her sister in-law. "T-That's not possible." She blurted in denial. "Men can't,… they're not capable, i-it's purely a female gift,… there's never been a…

Fleur reached out and grasped her friend's hands to draw her attention.

"He is empathic." Fleur reiterated calmly.

Hermione shook her head with a vacant expression. "Maybe some minor traits, but…?"

"A full empath, Hermione. The strongest one I have ever encountered. Full veela could not even come close to matching his power levels. It was humbling, to say the least." Fleur demurred with a shaken expression.

Hermione seemed to fold in on herself. Her arms wrapped tightly around her torso as if she was fighting off a chill.

"All this time and he's known…. He never said,….?" Hermione mumbled her fears to herself, oblivious to Fleur's presence.

"Do not worry so." Fleur tried to ally her friend's growing trepidation.

Hermione's vacant expression turned to one of exasperation. "Don't worry?! How can I not worry? How can anyone? A fully empathic man! It's like giving a wand to a garden gnome. A man would take advantage. He'd…"

"He'd what, Hermione?" Fleur growled dangerously, interrupting her friend's childish rant.

"He'd prey on a woman's vulnerabilities? He'd prey on our subconscious thoughts and fears and use them to his advantage. Listen to yourself? This is Harry, our Harry. Can you think of anyone who would utilize such a gift with more diligence and caution? I'm surprised at you."

Hermione colored embarrassedly, ashamed at herself for her knee jerk reaction.

"You're right; of course, Harry would never abuse such a gift."

Fleur grimaced painfully at that. "A gift? Non. For 'Arry it iz a curse. He only focuses his empathy on one thing and one thing only- suffering. He uses it to home in on Dark activity, evil, if you will."

Hermione's eyes went wide in understanding. "That's how he does it."

Fleur nodded. "Oui. That is how 'Arry is able to track dark wizards. He is a walking dark detector and his range iz incredible." Fleur remarked awestruck.

"H-how far away, do you think?" She asked nervously.

Fleur smirked at her friend's discomfort. "We are hundreds of miles from Hogwart's and if he so chooses, he could home in on our distinct essences with hardly a thought. I zink he could do so across an ocean if he ad too."

Hermione looked not only awed, but distinctly uncomfortable with that revelation.

"D-Do you think he ever…?"

"Never" Fleur answered definitively. "Such an invasion of privacy appalls him. You should be ashamed for even thinking it." Fleur chastised, but winked in amusement at Hermione's implication.

Hermione chuckled. "It must be awfully tempting though? How does he manage on a date, not taking even a peek into what the girl's feeling?"

Fleur face fell as she confided. "I don't zink he has ever gone out on a date."

Hermione fell back into her chair and her lower lip trembled. "N-Never?"

Fleur shook her head sadly.

"I- I am ashamed for what I did, but I cannot bring myself to regret it. I.."

Fleur voice faltered and she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.

Hermione leaned forward and grasped Fleur's hand reassuringly as she nodded her understanding. "You legillemen's him, didn't you?"

"I-I had to, Hermione. I had to be sure that he wasn't abusing the gift,…my veela sisters would never forgive me, if for no other reason than prosperity's sake." Fleur embarrassedly tried to defend her actions, before collecting herself and continuing.

"As I said before, however, I can't wholly regret my actions. "

Hermione leaned forward on tether hooks and prodded conspiratorially. "You saw something amazing didn't you?"

Fleur beamed at her friend. "I saw what happened last night, what really happened last night."

Fleur went into horrific detail describing the fight at the Burrow's gardens. She expressed her awe at Harry's courage and valor.

"I was reminded of ze arch angel's triumph over Lucifer on ze walls of heaven, when Michael triumphed and cast Lucifer down into ze fiery abyss. Blackened and charred they were. Mockeries of once men; twisted by hate, fueled by eons of unrelenting torment. Their talon fingers tore at Harry. Impossibly elongated jaws with razor sharp teeth snapped at him, but he stood at ze vanguard of his fallen comrades. His sword rained death ,ze true death, down upon zem. He drove zem back into ze portal, though they threw themselves mercilessly against him in a vain attempt to avenge themselves and avoid a return to their endless torment."

Fleur paused shuddering in dread. "Zen,… zen he did ze unthinkable, ze unimaginable!

'Arry breached ze portal, cursing ze denizens of the night and roaring a challenge to ze dark one, himself! Mon dieu, Hermione,… if zey had not stopped him..?!"

Fleur began to cry. Her tears soon became great racking sobs despite Hermione's attempts to comfort and reassure her. It was a heroic effort on Hermione's part as she was shaken to her very core, just hearing the tale, but to be there and witness it through Harry's eyes as Fleur had done...?

"Thank God that the other knights were able to stop him." Hermione consoled.

"Ze K-Knights?! Non,… N-Non." Fleur choked out through her sobs. " Ze s-spirits of ze Light stopped em. H-H-His Fazzer…..C-Cedric..-so many ozzers. "

Hermione goggled at her friend as she fought her tears back to make herself understood.

"Zey were there, 'Mione. Ze dead, zer s-spirits were there. Zey came to fight beside him. It was so terrifying, and…. So beautiful."

Fleur collapsed, her face buried in her hands as she sobbed out her fear, her shame, even her envy.

Hermione's eyes went wide in understanding. It was the only thing that made sense.

"The….stone" She breathed out in trepidation.

Fleur heard her and nodded into her hands as she struggled to control her emotions.

"All ze 'h-hallows', 'Mione." She managed to gasp out. "H-He az almost no magic of iz own, his core was severely damaged ze night of ze attack at ze Harpies match. 'Arry az mastered all three of ze 'Deathly Hallows'. He az forged zem into ze sword he now carries. He and only he iz master of ze sword, master of ze 'Hallows'. They empower him, making him a part of ze spirit world and zey a part of ours, albeit briefly. Zey relish it ,Hermione, ze dead,.. zey are drawn to him . His spirit gives them great comfort and warmth. Zey would do anyzing for him."

Hermione pulled her trembling friend to her as she broke into great racking sobs of wonder and despair. Once Fleur's breathing had evened out, she asked:

"Y-you saw that when you entered his mind?"

"N-Non. It happened when I placed iz sword in his hand."

Fleur went on to explain how Harry would not calm, even in unconsciousness. How his hand kept flexing and grasping at the air. Hermione's mind drifted back to Bjorn Dykstra's having confided that Harry would not still during his recovery until his hand felt the reassuring protection afforded by the feel of cold steel in his hand.

"A-As soon as iz hand closed upon ze hilt of iz blade,…. Zey came. Feathery lights winked into being all around ze infirmary. Zer was such a sense of warmth and peace. I,… I felt…"

"Love?" Hermione speculated correctly. Fleur nodded into her friend's comforting shoulder.

"A-And ze smells! Fresh cut flowers, cookies baking, warm croissants right out of ze oven. I-I don't know how I knew, I just did,… and I touched his hand where he held ze sword and,..a-and…."

"You saw them." Hermione finished in understanding, her voice carried a strange resolution to it.

Fleur nodded, sniffling. "Z-Zey spoke to me."

"Who spoke to you, Fleur?" Hermione asked pensively.

"Ze Headmaster was ze first, Monsieur Dumbledore. He said zat zey are all grateful, very grateful, for our steadfast loyalty to 'Arry." Fleur sniffed disdainfully as if the idea of not being so was abhorrent to her.

"He asked zat we continue to try and reach out to him,… to help him become whole once more. He said zat he must find iz heart again, zat it iz still 'Arry's greatest weapon and it iz needed now more zan ever." Fleur paused to consider this statement, turning puzzled eyes toward Hermione.

"At ze time I thought he meant 'Arry's heart, his courage, but now I am not sure. What did he mean zat it was iz greatest weapon?"

Hermione's eyes went out of focus for a moment as her mind drifted back to another, earlier time.

"His- Love." Hermione answered meekly. "Dumbledore always believed that it was Harry's capacity to love that was his greatest weapon against the dark."

Fleur snuffled despairingly at that. "After last night,…Ginny,..How can she or any of us possibly mend what az been broken yet again? You saw his face. He just stood zer and let her rain blow after blow down on him. He never so much as winced, but you could see it in iz eyes. You could see ze despair, ze pain. It was oorrible."

"It was." Hermione echoed hollowly. "Did the headmaster say anything more?"

Fleur shook her head. "Non, he drifted away and anozzer took his place." Fleur's hand shot out and grasped her friend's as she imparted her excitement.

"It was my Gran mama . She was so beautiful, "Mione. She looked like she did when she was first married to my Gran papa. It was the fresh croissants, her croissants zat I remembered smelling. She told me zat she was so proud of me, of us. Zat zey all are. " Fleur paused indicating the two of them.

Hermione cocked her head slightly, smiling warmly at that.

"She said zat ze light az placed it's hand on 'Arry and by proxy, us az well. 'Arry is ze Light's own champion and our service to him, our friendship, iz smiled upon."

Both women shared a contented look at that

"It is perhaps one of the things for which I am most proud, yet it comes so easily." Hermione spoke softly from her heart, adding; "It's easy to love Harry."

Fleur nodded her agreement.

After a comfortable pause, Hermione's inquisitive nature returned.

"D-Did you see anyone else? Did anyone else speak to you?"

Fleur winced at her question. This was perhaps the part that weighed so heavily on her conscious.

"S-She came to me….. iz muzzer, L-Lily Potter." Fleur broke down in sobs at the memory.

Hermione waited on pins and needles, dreading what would come next, but fearing even more not knowing what Lily Potter had imparted to Fleur.

Fleur sobs finally subsided and she haltingly began to tell Hermione about Lily Potter's visit.

"H-His muzzer,… so beautiful and… so sad, 'Mione. H-Her heart aches for her boy. Y-You can s-see it in her eyes. They are his eyes. Zey, were zer too in ze background; iz fazzer, God fazzer,… I even saw C-Cedric!" Fleur gasped at the memory.

"Ze men, zay were standing vigil around 'Arry's bedside, murmuring softly to each ozzer, and to him, but iz muzzer, she would not go to him."

"What?" Hermione gasped surprised. "Why not?"

Fleur 's eyes filled with tears. "H-He won't let her,…'Arry. Ze Hallows only call whom one wishes to see. Subconsciously, he wants to see her, so she iz able to approach when he sleeps or iz unconscious, but still holds ze sword and thereby iz in contact with ze Deathly Hallows. When 'Arry is awake and using ze Hallows , he will not let her spirit approach. Rarely does he even let his fazzer, or ze grim and ze wolf approach."

Hermione knew she was referring to Sirus's animagus form of a giant grim and Remus' werewolf form, respectively.

She could understand his trepidation, but his mother? She would have thought that Harry would give anything to have a moment with his mother again.

Though Harry had promised her and Ron that he would never use the Hallows again, she could understand his reasoning for breaking his word,... he had been given no choice when his magical core was destroyed.

He had once again put the needs of the public first and foremost, even over his word, which Harry had never before willingly broken.

The danger around them; the disappearances, the wraiths, the terror griping the British Isles,… Harry had not abandoned them in their time of need. Despite his, what,.. disability? He had found away to help by using the powers afforded by the Deathly Hallows, that and his own prodigious skills.

Despite the track her thoughts took her as she began to reason out the mystery surrounding her friend and his fortunate, if not timely, return to Britain. Her mind went continually back to the unsettling circumstance that Harry would not consciously allow the Hallows to summon his mother to him, when she knew that they both desperately wanted contact with each other.

"Why?" Hermione asked simply.

Fleur startled, at the unexpected outburst, but recovered quickly and explained.

"Ze d-dead, zey can hear our prayers for zem. Zey can feel when we are having a kind thought for zem. 'Arry's mama, she glows when she talks about him, but it iz tinged with such immense sadness. She says zat 'Arry thinks of his family often. He prays for their happiness, but he never asks for himself- not ever. He does not think himself worthy of her sacrifice for him. He does not think he deserves to see her. His papa and ze others have begged on her behalf, but he will have none of it. If zey press to ard, he forgoes summoning zem again. He az never summoned Tonks since she threatened him, but she was zer with ze wolf last night, so 'Arry must subconsciously want to see her still. Lily,… she begs us to find a way to soften iz resolve. On her knees she begged it of me. It was beyond heart breaking. Ze light almost lost him for all time when he tried to traverse the portal and challenge ze Dark One. He did not come back of iz own accord, ze spirits; his papa, ze grim and wolf, Cedric, Professor Snape, ze headmaster and dozens of others pulled him back. It took ze energy of hundreds of zem to pull him back from ze void. Many of zem are still recovering from ze toll it took on zer energy. 'Arry,… he fought zem, cursed zem to let him go. To let zer be an end to it once and for all…." Fleur broke down in tears at that.

These were the same words he spoke to her in the cemetery when he lay dying from his wounds. Let there be an end…. Those words haunted her then and now she knew why.

Hermione gathered her trembling friend in her arms and whispered reassurances to her that they would find a way. How they would do it, she didn't know, but they would find a way to heal their friend.

Once Fleur had recovered enough, she finished her tale, telling Hermione the events of the cemetery when Harry tried to stop her from attempting to heal him. She told her about Hogwarts and having to be restrained, but still he was able to turn his eyes,( filled with loathing), away from seeing her.

It was that last that gave Fleur the most anxiety, seeing the loathing for her in Harry's eyes. At the time she had been able to ignore it so that she could help do what need be done to save his life, but now? Now she was utterly devastated by the contempt she knew he felt for her.

Hermione pulled her broken friend to her feet.

"Come on."

"Where are we going?"

"To Hogwarts" Hermione returned succinctly.

"Non" Fleur pulled out of her grasp with a desperate wild look in her eyes.

"He will not see me, he hates me now. I cannot bear it, 'Mione. I cannot bear to see eyes once filled with warmth and kindness for me, look at me with loathing. Please, Hermione?" she begged, trying feebly to distance herself.

Hermione held fast to Fleur's arm and dual apparated them both to the gate of Hogwarts before Fleur could protest further.

"Whatever he may or may not feel, we'll face it together as we always have. It's time Harry Potter came home and I'm not taking no for an answer." Hermione growled, pulling a reluctant Fleur along with her.

They made their way thru the grounds and entered the castle without incident, several flights of stairs later and the two stood poised at the infirmary doors.

Fleur looked ready to bolt and run for it. Hermione looked determined to prevent her at any cost.

It was the sound of laughter from within the infirmary that distracted the two.

They pushed the infirmary door open a crack to take a peek inside. A grinning Harry Potter was propped up into a sitting position, chortling along with an obviously amused Headmistress McGonnagal and a laughing Poppy Pomfrey.

Harry appeared in the midst of telling the two some story or such regarding his past adventures.

"Weren't you terrified?" Poppy Pomfrey gasped in a frightened tone.

"Terrified?" Harry questioned with a smirk. "I was terrified I'd piss myself laughing. You should have seen the look on that nun's face, Har-Har!" Harry howled with laughter, before he grasped his sides to brace his chest from muscle spasms, while he tried to fight down his laughter.

"Oh, he-he, oww this hurts, arghhh!" His laughter turned to howls of pain.

Poppy Pomfrey grabbed up a pillow and braced his chest with it, admonishing him.

"If you break open that wound again, I'll have you in here a month Mr. Potter." she threatened.

Harry immediately stilled. He wiped a tear from his eye and returned cheekily. "Now there's a real mood killer. Still, I suppose it's the first time you've had a full grown man in a bed for quite some time."

McGonnagal snorted a laugh at the look on her friend's outraged face.

"Minnie!" She gasped indignantly.

"Well, it's true." her friend returned incredulously.

This set Harry to laughing again. "Har, oh, ow-oww!"

Pomfrey shot him a pitiless look and snorted. "Serves you right, laughing at a poor maid's expense."

Hermione turned a stupefied look on her friend. Fleur face still held a pensive, uncertain quality. Though visibly relieved to see Harry in good spirits, she was still afraid of how he would respond to seeing her.

Hermione made the decision easy for her. She grabbed her friend's hesitant hand and pulled her into the room before she had a chance to complain.

"Good afternoon" Hermione announced to the room, pulling a struggling Fleur along with her.

"' Mione!" Harry cheered delightedly. Gingerly he turned slightly to the side to get a better vantage point to see who Hermione was pulling along behind herself.

"Fleur?" Harry questioned uncertainly.

Fleur halted her struggles upon hearing him speak her name, slightly mollified that his tone sounded more questioning, than unwelcome.

She took a hesitant step around Hermione and cast him a sheepish glance as she smoothed down her robes.

"'Arry,…I…" She began haltingly but her words dropped off when he smiled and held out his arms beckoningly to her.

Fleur flew into his embrace and peppered his face with brief chaste kisses.

"Here now what's all this?" He seemed genuinely surprised by her actions.

Fleur pulled back and searched his face."You're not angry wiz me?" she asked in a frightened tone.

Harry frowned at her. "Angry? Certainly not. How can I be anything but grateful to the angel that saved my life?" he reprimanded.

"But, 'Arry you were so angry at ze graveyard?" she pleaded, searching his eyes for some hidden ire on his part.

Harry cocked an eyebrow. "The last thing I remember is praying that the Great Father of magic would let me be with my parents. That was before he sent an angel in answer to my prayer. A beautiful angel with flowing silver hair that saved me."

Fleur blushed a deep red and lowered her eyes sheepishly, "Angel indeed." she huffed half heartedly, blushing faintly at the compliment.

Harry raised her chin and his emerald gaze bore into her silvery blue eyes. "An angel." He verified with complete certainty. "My angel."

Fleur melted into his side and sobbed her relief into his neck.

"What's all this?" he chastised gently, turning a genuinely baffled expression to Hermione .

Hermione stepped up to his side and grasped his other hand warmly with both her own.

"She's just been very worried about you, we all have. You don't remember fighting with her, then? She said you fought her efforts to heal you?"

"What?" His puzzled eyes turned to Madam Pomfrey.

"Knight Potter was delirious with blood loss. I doubt he has the faintest idea what he was or wasn't doing last night?" Pomfrey came to his defense.

Hermione nodded her acceptance of Pomfrey's explanation. It fit with her own knowledge regarding such life threatening injuries, besides, she wanted to believe her. She couldn't fathom Harry ever giving up, no matter how dire the circumstances.

"He's on the mend, but it will be some time before he can resume his duties as a Knight."

"I'm not a knight." Harry groused, but was largely ignored as Pomfrey talked over him.

"I've made some arrangements that Knight Potter,( she emphasized the word knight), has agreed to, albeit reluctantly."

"A-Arrangements?" Hermione inquired uncertainly.

"I, er, have decided to remain in Britain. Pomfrey has contacted a private healer in training to oversee my therapeutic recovery. The healer comes highly recommended and is not averse to residing with me in England for the duration that her services are required as she has family here." Harry returned with a knowing grin.

Hermione gapped stupidly at him. She couldn't believe it. He was coming home?

Fleur pulled back from his shoulder with a dumb founded expression.

"Y-You're coming home?" she snuffled, not daring to hope it was true.

"I'm returning to England, yes." He corrected simply with a small smile.

From her vantage point, McGonagal could see Harry's eyes were twinkling the way that Albus' used to. She hated her part in this, but still had hope for him as she had faith in the two witches who obviously meant so much to him, and vice versa.

Harry's knowing grin broadened, if that was possible. "I think you'll approve of our choice in healers? A bit expensive, but well worth the cost, I'm sure?"

Hermione eyes narrowed suspiciously. He wouldn't?

"Who iz it?" Fleur asked.

"Gabby" Harry returned with a cheeky wink.

" Gabby?" Fleur's eyes went out of focus. "Gabrielle? My sister?! " Fleur screeched excitedly.

He would. Hermione rolled her eyes. Only Harry can stir up trouble like this. She thought exasperatedly.

Ginny will go mental over this.

"Oh' Arry! Say you vill stay with us? Zat would be so wonderful. Willie would love to have her auntie and you in ze same house for a visit."Fleur cheered absolutely delighted by the news, though Hermione watched their interplay with a skeptical eye. Something was a tad off for her liking.

"I thought, perhaps she'd stay with me at Potter Manor." Harry returned politely, not wanting to discourage his friend. "There's plenty of room, and you'd all be welcome to visit as often as you like. Make it a holiday, it would be wonderful to have everyone over for a bit, er,.. that iz if my healer thinks I'm up to it?" he finished sheepishly.

Hermione's eyes narrowed at that. Just what are you playing at, ?

"Ze, manor? All alone together? Non." Fleur returned with a note of finality. "My sister, all alone wiz you in zat big mansion and all zos bedrooms? I zink not." she argued primly.

Harry cocked an eyebrow at the accusation. "I'm hardly in any condition to take advantage of anyone just now?" he reassured her.

"Non" If not at ze cottage zen zer iz plenty of room at ze Black mansion?" She suggested. "'Arry, giving ze Weasley's a mansion? Zat was incredibly generous of you." she praised him affectionately.

"It was the least I could do after destroying their home. I hope they aren't too disappointed? It was the closest thing I had to London, and I wasn't using it for anything anyway. "He ventured.

"Like it? Molly; she iz gushing over it. Zay all are speechless, such an amazing gift. You must come stay zer, it will be good for you." she urged happily.

"I'm not sure?" Harry drawled hesitantly. "I don't want to impose?"

"Nonsense. You and Gabrielle will be more zan welcome. You will see."

Harry nodded, grinning at his friend's enthusiasm. "Alright, then, If Molly and Arthur agree. I'm sure that Gabby and I would be pleased to accept." Harry agreed cheerfully, glancing Hermione's way.

Oh, well played Mr. Potter! She groused inwardly.

"Hermione, did you here? 'Arry iz coming home. Iz zat not wonderful?" Fleur crowed turning to her friend,

"er, brilliant." Hermione agreed half heartedly, shooting Harry an half exasperated, half suspicious glare that clearly said: What are you playing at?

Harry just smiled over Fleur's head and smirked cunningly by way of reply.