March 1998

Fleur tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. Hermione, silent, followed the motion. Fleur knew those hurt, brown-eyes were tracking the thin band of gold on her ring finger. Much to Fleur's distress, beyond winces and gasps during the tending of her wounds, Hermione has been eerily quiet since her arrival to shell cottage.

"Hermione," Fleur whispered in a plea.

The younger witch closed her eyes tight, as if hearing her name hurt. Fleur knew she was witnessing the sharp pain of Hermione's heart splitting and it pierced her more than a dementor's kiss. It brought tears to her eyes. She hadn't wept since her wedding, the night she gave herself to Bill.

Before this day, Fleur had diligently found the median between numbness and depression. In Hermione's presence though, she viscerally felt what had been severed by the witch's absence. A year in the constant company of dementors left a stark imprint on Fleur. She had drifted away from herself, from her own heart. Ironically, now that she was faced with the one person who always served as her anchor, she was more adrift then ever.

Hermione finally spoke. "Fleur?"

What could Fleur answer? What defense was there for the selfish act of losing hope, of giving up on her heart? Fleur was now the silent one and Hermione repeated her name with such tender confusion, such bewilderment that a deep shame lodged itself inside of Fleur. She finally put her hand over Hermione's.

"I am here, Hermione."

"Are you really?" Hermione asked sternly. "Because I feel like I don't know what I'm seeing when I look at you."

There it was, the spark. Here was Hermione, burning with life even during such suffering. Fleur could see that Hermione's soul was intact, weakened but still complete. It brought a smile to Fleur's tear-stained face.

"And now you're smiling?" Hermione scolded.

"I'm just so happy that you are alive and yourself. You may not be able to see me, but I can see you." Fleur tightened her grip on Hermione's hand. "You are so strong."

Hermione gave an exasperated huff. Then as if remembering something horrible, her expression shifted and her eyes became sorrowful again.

"Give me your other hand, Fleur."

Fleur complied and watched Hermione examine her wedding ring. Hermione spun it once, causing Fleur to flinch.

"When?" Hermione asked tonelessly.

"Bill pursued me not long after Dumbledore's funeral."

"And you fell in love with him."

"I can not fall in—I didn't believe I could fall in love, but Bill seemed to understand that. We were both changed by circumstances and parts of us fit."

Hermione sat up, moving away from Fleur.

"Were you ever really in love with me?"

"Hermione, you have to understand that-"

"Answer the question," Hermione demanded, her eyes and posture becoming sharp, as if preparing to battle.

"I was and I am still in love with you. That was never the issue."

Hermione's posture deflated, but her eyes were still hard.

"What was the issue?"

"You couldn't accept my love and I wouldn't expect you to. Not then and not now. I am not who I was, Hermione."

"What do you mean?"

"Something changed in me during my assignment with the dementors. I lost a part of myself."

Hermione straightened again. "And what's left is good enough for Bill but not me?"

"In a way, yes," Fleur admitted. "I didn't deserve you—I don't deserve you."

"That was my decision and you took it from me, Fleur. Just like when you kept the prophecy from me." Hermione inhaled deeply. "You couldn't have known, but I was ready to love you. After seeing you in that hospital bed, I didn't want to let you out of my sight again. But you sent me away and everything happened so fast after the ministry fell. I lost track of everyone but Harry and Ron." Then somehow Hermione's eyes became even fiercer. "You don't know how much it hurt not knowing if you were okay."

"I know exactly how much it hurt." Now Fleur's voice was rising. "And I know I was weak and that I shouldn't have given up." Fleur paused, looking at her hands. "I gave most my heart to you and the prophecy, Hermione. Dementors mangled what was left."

"And Bill didn't know the difference," Hermione muttered.

Fleur reached for Hermione then. She couldn't help herself. She grasped her shoulder like a lifeline. "Hermione, believe me when I say sitting across from you still not being able to give you the love you deserve is killing me. How could it not be my biggest regret?"

They stared at each other then, caught up in a frequency that was uniquely their own, both immobilized by the current. How changed they both were. Dark circles under their eyes and the countless emotional scars. But this was the same, the energy signature that only sparked when they were together. It was a powerful flow only love over many years could make.

Fleur pulled away first, hearing the door open. She kept eye contact with Hermione, hoping against all hope that what they have was strong enough to repair some of the damage she did.

Dang. Double dang. I'm back. Hello!