A/N It's the penultimate chapter! The finale will be posted at exactly 23:59 (my time at least) as a final farewell to 2016, but I couldn't resist teasing you with one last cliffhanger! Thanks as always!

bookworm; Well that entirely depends on what flavour the cookies are... Haha! Glad you enjoyed it, even if it did make you cry! And hopefully you'll enjoy the ending in the next chapter!
lyrass; Really sorry to hear that happened to you, but thank you so much for reviewing, and I'm glad you managed to escape that situation!
Crossy; This story is going to miss you too! Sorry I made you cry again... There might be more coming too... Sorry in advance!
kaycross; Ahh more tears! Have some of my imaginary tissues!
Guest; Why thank you very much!

Disclaimer; Maybe 2017 will be the year I rub a genie's lamp and become JK Rowling? Until then, all things noticable are hers!

As always, hope you enjoy!

Chapter 25

The days seemed endless, even after Rose and Hugo had eventually been coaxed into leaving St. Mungo's and moving in with the Potters. Rose still refused to see any of the Weasleys, and Hugo, though he sometimes found himself wanting to spend time with his father's family, followed her lead. In a way that almost directly mirrored their actions a few months earlier, the Potter children cared for their cousins in the wake of Ron's death, and the terrifying possibility that Hermoine wouldn't wake. Teddy, too, had been an invaluable support, and though Victoire had yet to return from searching for her mother in France, she had written to the group every day, with one letter including a small message for Rose's eyes alone. In it, she had penned her incredible grief, sympathy and regret that she couldn't be with them. She had emphasised her support and love for her, and her hope that, despite the actions of their parents', they could remain close. Rose had cried onto the parchment and quickly replied with the same sentiments, and hope that Fleur would be found soon.

But the days were so long! Professor McGonagall had been contacted shortly after the tragic events of three days ago- 'Was it really only three days?'- and had, of course, given the five school-children time off. Yet, as Rose found herself once more consumed by her thoughts, she almost wished that she had classes to distract her. She would even, perhaps, welcome a visit from Rita Skeeter, who had been attempting to penetrate the wards around the Godric Hollow house ever since the media had become aware of the tragedy. Well, perhaps not, given the reputation the slimy, sneaky woman had. Still though, she longed for something, anything, to break the endless, timeless silence that had enveloped them all for what already felt like a lifetime.

The only thing that seemed to have happened in the recent days, was the visit from the Ministry officials who, despite Teddy's requests, had visited them only a day after her mother was admitted, and Hugo had accidentally… Hugo had saved Hermoine. To both of the children's relief, they informed them that between the extensive spells used on the house to show what had truly happened in those fatal moments, and the testimonies given by countless people regarding the abuse and horror of their relationship, Hugo's accidental magic was judged as just that; accidental.

Though Rose had never held a single doubt that her brother would be deemed innocent, that night it became apparent that he had secretly feared prosecution. "I feel horrible," He whispered to her in the dark, "that I'm so relieved."
"What d'ya mean?"
"Well, mum might still… You know. And I did… I killed him…" He was close to sobbing again, and Rose held him firmly. "But I'm just s-so relieved -sniff- that I won't be sent to Azkaban."
"Hugo, of course you wouldn't have been sent to Azkaban." She murmured quietly. "You saved mum."
"But she might still…" He seemed unable, as she was, to speak the horrific words, to even acknowledge that they might soon be orphans. "Rose, where are we going to live? If, you know..."
She sighed softly; though she was sure that the Potters would be happy for them to remain there, and they would be welcome at any of the Weasley's places, she was hesitant to abuse the formers generosity, and incredibly reluctant to stay with the family she had rejected. Still though, as she heard Hugo sniff tearfully, she forced herself to feign a confidence she certainly didn't feel. "When mum wakes up, she'll find us a new place to live."

He nodded against her shoulder before muttering sleepily; "Are you angry with her?"
Frowning, she briefly considered his question. Was she angry with her mother? Well, yes, obviously, but with the storm of emotions still pounding through her young heart, she wasn't sure that anger was at the forefront of her feelings. Worry, perhaps, or rather terror. "I suppose I just don't understand." She finally replied, deflecting his question effectively.
"But you still love her, right?"
Her eyes burned from the tears she could no longer shed. "Yeah, Hugo. I still love her. So much."

...

Nearly forty-eight hours had passed since the young pair had fallen into an uneasy sleep, and three days since Hermoine had been cast into the magical coma that was her best chance at life. Her broken body was still healing, as they had told all who asked after her, and waking her up was, though slightly less of a risk than initially, still alarmingly dangerous. Her side was occupied at almost every hour of the day, with friends and family who spoke to her unmoving form. And though the Healers repeatedly reminded them that she couldn't hear them, Luna, Neville, Minerva, Jo, even Blaise, and countless others including, of course, the Weasleys, Potters and her own children, continued to tell her about their days, and how much they loved and missed her. And they all begged her to heal and wake up safely.

That was, until one person visited the prone woman, and instead of sentiments of love, support and hope, began chanting the complicated spell that would wake her. Waiting with baited breath to see if she would die, if her battered body would collapse from her early rousing, the other exhaled in relief when Hermoine opened her eyes and gently coughed. By some miracle, she had survived being woken earlier than anyone would have rationally tried, and her features twisted in pain as she instinctively tried to move.

"I'm glad you're not dead." Said her companion, and she turned her face slowly, neck spasming in pain, only for adrenaline to surge through her. Her eyes, suddenly wide and fearful, darted around to find her wand, only to suddenly remember seeing it's shards falling down the stairs, and then remember herself following them… So much pain… Dying… Breathing in sharp, painful gasps, she met the icy blue eyes of the person looking down at her prone, frozen form. "Not dead yet, anyway."

...

Victoire leant gratefully against Teddy's form, thanking Merlin that he had responded so swiftly to her patronus. They were once more upon the hill where they had first kissed, and though the mood was equally as miserable as last time, she couldn't deny the relief she felt from his presence again. He had arrived less than five minutes after her hastily sent silvery wolf and, seeing her tear-stained face, had simply opened his arms to welcome her in and comfort her. Nearly ten minutes, by her estimation, had passed since he had arrived and he still hadn't asked what was wrong, simply whispering words of love and reassurance in her ear, and being there. As she rubbed her stomach, secretly holding the baby that no-one but her knew was there, she found herself thanking Merlin that the pair of them could simply be. Simply find comfort in one another's arms, no words or explanations needed. Just simple, quiet love.

"I love you." She finally whispered against his chest. "I love you so much."
He kissed the top of her head with sweet affection. "I love you too, my darling."
She leant back slightly and gazed at him with blue eyes filled with sincerity. "I mean it though, I really do adore you. Being with you, it…" His brows pulled together in confusion as tears swelled anew and ran down her cheeks, and she shook her head. "It's the only time I ever feel truly safe, truly peaceful."
He brushed away the moisture on her face with one hand, whilst the other fingered the ring box that he had kept by his side for the last three days. No, it's still not the right time, he thought quickly, before taking her face in his hands and kissing her gently, first on the forehead, then the lips, and finally on her nose, making her giggle a little. "I adore you too, more than anything. I'd do anything for you."

She smiled softly and, when he tilted his head in a silent question as to what had happened, sighed and returned to resting against his chest, their hands entwined. "I found her." She eventually stated.
"Your mother?" Victoire nodded. "Where was she?"
"Calais. With Bryce." She stated bluntly. "He was short. The rest were tall."
He sighed in sympathy and rubbed her shoulders relaxingly. "How many were there?" He didn't need to have it spelled out for him; Victoire had had to visit many of her mother's lovers.
"Too many to count." She scoffed. "Not one of them mentioned Bill." Kissing her cheek, he scowled as she added, "I don't think they even knew Dom, Louis and I existed."

After a few moments, he softly asked, "How are they?"
"They're… Well, obviously confused, but they seem to be handling it okay. I just reassured them that no matter what, we'd always be each other's brother and sisters. I… I didn't know what else to say. They weren't there when I found her, thank Merlin." Knowing that she would talk about Fleur when she was ready, he waited patiently, continuing to rub the tension in her muscles away. It was a few minutes before she spoke again, with dread and guilt lacing her voice. "How are Rose and Hugo?"
Teddy frowned slightly, but when he spoke it was with heavy reassurance. "They're being brave. I think they just want to know what's happening with Hermoine, if I'm honest. Rose has been so strong for Hugo though, after what happened with Ron…" He trailed away, before clearing his throat and giving her a weak smile. "Whatever you wrote in that note, it really helped her."
Victoire nodded slowly and, though she would never know it, echoed the thoughts that had circulated around Rose's mind as she had read said note. "I guess I just didn't want her to think anyone would blame her. I was so young, and she's still so young. Little girls, the both of us. Bill's, Hermoine's, Ron's… And Fleur's. Fleur's little girl." She sighed. "So many lies. But it's not our fault. And I don't want Rose thinking that anyone will blame her."
Teddy gazed at her with pride. "You're being so brave, my love. I'm so proud of you."

She smiled gratefully, before sighing and closing her eyes. "She denied it at first." She whispered, and Teddy didn't need to have the power of Legillimancy to know that she was talking about her mother again. "She said it was all lies. Said that she hadn't kept me apart from my dad, or whoever Bill is. I mean… I remember being away from him when I was younger, but she always said it was because he was working. She actually lied to me, to try to turn me against him. And when I found her tonight, she tried to convince me that the Weasleys were all against her, like it was some bloody conspiracy theory." His mouth twisted in sympathy and grief as she began to shake slightly. "A-and then, when I told her that I-I'd spent the last two f-fucking days s-speaking to her ex-lovers, she finally admitted what a- what a- what a whore she had been! An-and w-when I asked her who m-my f-father was," Victoire was sucking in her breath in short, violent bursts, "s-she tried to t-tell me it was Bill, b-but she finally ad-admitted she d-doesn't even know!"

She promptly fell back onto his chest, crying bitterly once more, and he ran his fingers through her hair as she muttered about how much she hated her mother right now, bitterly thinking that he hated her too. Fleur, or as he had secretly heard her called, Phlegm, Delacour was definitely topping his most-hated list right now. Victoire eventually calmed enough to speak again, and there was a grim determination in her eyes when she looked at him once more. "I need to go," She began quietly, "I have to see Hermoine." He frowned in confusion, but before he could speak she shook her head and continued. "I… I have to tell her how sorry I am, for all the grief I've caused her."
"Hey, it's not your fault! You were just a child! Besides, love, she's still, you know…"
Victoire nodded. "I know. I know both of those things. But, though she's still in the coma, she's still alive. And if she… If she dies before I can say how sorry I am, for everything that's happened, I'll never forgive myself. Maybe she'll hear me, maybe she won't, but I have to tell her. I just have to."

Sighing deeply, he rested his cheek against hers. "I can't even pretend to imagine, or empathise, with what you're going through love, but I'll support you. Whatever happens, whatever you want to do, I'll be here for you." She nodded as they stood, and he kissed her gently. Her eyes still shimmering with tears, her fair blonde hair silver in the moonlight, and her gentle features lit up with love; she had never looked as pure, as tragic and as lovely as right now. "I love you so much, my beautiful, darling, wonderful Victoire."
She smiled slightly, radiant in the gentle light. "I love you too, Teddy Lupin."
"Would you like me to come with you?"
She considered her offer briefly, before shaking her head. "Thank you, but no. I think I need to do this on my own." He nodded and, with one final embrace, the pair disapparated; he to resume his pseudo-father role, and she to tell Hermoine of her deep regret. Little did they know that when they next met, the terrifying green flash of the avada kedavra would have once more been cast, and Victoire's life would have once more been shattered before her eyes.

...

"Are Rose and Hugo okay?" Hermoine asked weakly from where she lay, defenceless, in the hospital bed. When no reply came, she sighed deeply, and when she next spoke her voice was pleading, begging even, for an answer. "Please, you're a mother too, just tell me how my children are."
The other woman snorted slightly. "Hmm. I wonder, can you still call yourself a mother now? Tell me, 'Ermione, 'ow can you be a mother when your children 'ate you?"
"Fleur, please," Hermoine implored desperately to the French woman's back, "whatever's happened between us, just please tell me, are they okay?!"
Fleur turned slowly to face her, her face eerily bland and her eyes still icy. Her veela features usually made her beautiful, but at the moment it simply made her more terrifying than ever. Especially when she gave an unpleasant smile and coolly stated; "Your 'usband is dead." Hermoine flinched slightly, terror filling her as Fleur's smile widened. "Hugo killed 'im."
A sob of despair escaped her, not for Ron but for her son, who was undoubtedly suffering right now, and who she couldn't help. Who probably hated her. "Fleur," She tried once more, "please, I'm honestly, genuinely begging you, just tell me if Rose and Hugo are alright. Please! If it were Victoire, Dominique or Louis, I would tell you!"

Her harpy features suddenly shot forth as she lunged towards Hermoine, pressing their faces close together and spitting; "Do NOT speak their names!" Her suddenly elongated and sharp nose nearly touched Hermoine's mouth as her saliva spread over her chin and, to her disgust, mouth.
But the former 'Golden Girl' couldn't even lift her arm, let alone wipe away the spit. "Fleur-"
"Tais-toi, putain." Fleur whispered cruelly before, to her relief, stepping back once more. "You 'ave ruined everything."
Hermoine, groaning as the adrenaline was swiftly leaving her body and the pain was increasing at an alarming rate, gritted her teeth and forced herself to speak. "You ruined everything years ago. You, not me."
"Ha!" Fleur scoffed as she paced around the room in agitation. "Of course you would blame thees on me! You- you- you 'usband stealing slut!"
"I didn't steal Bill from you; I helped him when you were sleeping with half of the men in France!"

Fleur stormed back over and slapped her harshly. "I owed you that." She muttered. "And do not try to scream, I 'ave cast une charm de silence." Hermoine wouldn't have tried to scream even without her warning; the sudden mad fire in the older woman's eyes had muted her; Fleur look genuinely insane, and this was merely emphasised as she continued her frantic pacing around the room. "Victoire found me." She eventually stated.
"With another of your lovers, I suppose?" Hermoine bit back, concern for her children making her voice cruel.
Fleur looked at her with narrowed eyes, hatred emanating from her every pore. "She 'ates me. She knows everything. They all do. And she 'ates me."
Despite the enduring hatred between the pair, Hermoine's heart ached at her confession; as she had said they were, after all, both mothers. "I'm sorry, Fleur. I honestly am. But I warned you, all those years ago, that the only person that would lose the game you were playing would be you, when Victoire found out. I'm..." Sighing, she spoke with absolute truth. "I'm not happy that I was right."

Whatever humanity seemed to have come over the French woman vanished in an instant, as she sneered at Hermoine's sympathetic face. "Rose and Hugo know too." She informed her cooly. "I theenk that they weel 'ate you too, non?" Closing her eyes in grief and exhaustion, the bed-ridden woman sighed as the blonde continued viciously. "And, poor petite Rosie 'as told the Weasleys she wants nothing to do weeth them. So your leetle girl will be all alone when she becomes un orphelin. And Hugo, of course, 'as followed 'er, so they will both be abandoned!"
"Bill won't that happen." Hermoine said confidently, and though the other woman sneered and began to answer, she cut across, "Wait, un orphelin? An orphan? So you came here to murder me, did you?"
She smiled serenely and sat on the edge of her bed, the picture of innocent beauty. "Ah, but Rosie 'ates Beel more than anyone, I'm sure. And of course I came 'ere to keel you. It's what you deserve; justice poétique."

"Why haven't you done it already then?"
Fleur tilted her head, seemingly curious. "'As the golden girl decided she wants to die?"
Hermoine shrugged in reply. "Not really, but as you haven't killed me already, well… I don't think you're going to." She wasn't sure if she was bluffing, trying to stall her or genuinely believed what she was saying, but she continued. "You're many things, Fleur, and Merlin knows we've hated each other in the past, but I don't think you're a murderer."
The other woman laughed gleefully, and not without a hint of the insanity in her eyes. "Per'aps you did not theenk it, but I suppose you didn't think Hugo was either, non?"
"Hugo is not a murderer!"
"Did you not 'ear me before? 'E keeled Ronald."
Shaking her head, she frowned. "I don't believe you, and even if I did, I would only believe it was some kind of accident."
Smile twisting, the other woman shrugged. "Well, 'e deed it trying to save you, so I guess eet was not entirely 'is fault."
Heart dropping, she whispered, "I don't believe you."

Fleur shrugged nonchalantly. "Eet does not matter. And as for why I 'ave not 'done eet already'? Well, I wanted you to know 'ow many lives you 'ave ruined with your lies, my leetle bookworm. Now that you do…" Standing gracefully, she pulled out her wand and started aiming towards each part of Hermoine's body, madness making her body shake with excitement, and as her eyes roved over her chest, her heart, her forehead, Hermoine saw the terrifying insanity that had danced in the ebony orbs of Bellatrix Lestrange, and the curse scar on her forearm seared. Then again, her whole being seemed to be struggling; whether it was the injuries that were still healing, the conversation she had just had with none other than Phlegm (she must definitely be concussed), or that fact that, for what felt like the thousandth time in her life, death was staring her in the face… Whatever it was, she felt… Carefree. Weightless. Soothed.

Death might not be so bad, she thought, leaning back and closing her eyes, I'll be able to see Harry and Ginny again. Be able to apologise. What was it Harry said Sirius' ghost said? 'Quicker than falling asleep', that was it. Dumbledore called it 'the next great adventure'. Harry was ready to die all those years ago… Maybe now, I am too. She reopened her eyes and looked at Fleur directly, with a small smile playing on her mouth, and considered their history together. Such a bitch. Makes you wonder how Victoire turned out to be such a sweet girl, especially as she's not Bill's. Though I suppose she still is… Bill's little girl…

The last three words swam around, echoing like the tolling funeral bells calling her closer to death's door, and its quiet, still embrace. Bill's little girl… Little girl… Bill… There was something her addled mind was missing, some connection that was a silvery thread binding her to life, but oh so close to snapping. What was it about those words? The more she tried to concentrate the more it hurt her throbbing head, though, and the less free her body felt. Ah, it was so much easier to simply let go! To follow her friends, to snap that quickly thinning thread and fall into the dark expanse of whatever came next. Surely it would hurt less... Surely it would have to.

Can you- Little- feel pain in -Bill- death? Can -Girl- you- She tried to distract herself but the ringing, which had sounded so much like the church bells rung when someone was laid to rest in the town she grew up in, were too loud. And they weren't the bells any more, the pitch and volume increasing painfully until it was a sharp screech, screaming those three damn words in her head like she had mermen, out of water and next to her, wailing some tragic lament. BILL'S LITTLE GIRL!

She didn't want to open her eyes, didn't want to acknowledge anything, didn't want to fight any more. The bells, think of the bells. The church, with it's -BILL'S- stained gla- LITTLE-ss windows and the gra- GIRL-veyard where we went in -BILL's- Godric's Hollow where Bagshot -LITTLE- who wrote A History Of -GIRL- Magic which which has a chapter on goblin -BILL'S- rebellions one in the eighteenth century with Urg the- LITTLE- Unclean Myrtle's bathroom always was un-GIRL-clean NO NO NO!

Finally giving on her increasingly scattered mind distracting her so she could just die peacefully, she squinted her eyes in pain and forced herself to concentrate, ignoring the feeling of knives and hammers against the inside of her skull, forcing herself to look at that oh-so-thin strand holding her onto life. Almost as fine as the hair of a veela. Bill's… As fine as Victoire's. Little… Victoire; Bill's daughter. Girl… I couldn't help Bill's little girl, I couldn't save her, all those years ago. Why couldn't I be there for Bill's little girl? Why can't I be there for her now? Why am I giving up on Bill's little girl? Her mind snapped, and the strand became solid, thick steel. I have to be there for her. For Bill's little girl. For OUR little girl. Rose.

And Hugo.

I have to live.

Finally, as it seemed to have taken her a lifetime to organise her thoughts, though it had in reality been less than ten seconds, she focussed on Fleur and shook her head. "You don't want to do this." Surprising them both with the strength of her voice. "You really don't, Fleur. Think of the consequences."
"There won't be any! Everyone weel theenk you simply died in your coma." The mad woman (because now her mind was properly clear, Hermoine could see that the French Phlegm was truly, completely insane) argued fiercely.
"They will know the differences between my dying from a spell or dying from a coma." She responded calmly, evenly. "And they'll know it was murder. If Hugo did kill Ron on purpose," Though she still didn't believe that her son had killed his father, she was ready to try anything to break through Fleur's unstable mind, "then the Ministry would have known it was an accident, or Hugo would be in huge trouble, maybe even in Azkaban, and you'd have been taunting me with that."

The blonde didn't even pause to consider the validity of her words. "It weel be worth it, to finally 'ave you out of ma vie!"
"Killing me is worth your children seeing their mother hauled off to jail? Maybe never seeing you again? I'm going to be out of your life anyway, think about this logically."
Fleur grinned sinisterly. "Oui, thees ees tres bien… I was 'oping you would beg, leetle bookworm."
"I'm not begging, I'm trying to save you from making a terrible mistake!"
"I do not theenk it weel be a mistake." She replied softly.
"But-"
"As much as I 'ave enjoyed thees chat, it ees time for me to go." Levelling her wand steadily between Hermoine's eyes, she stood at the foot of her bed, smiling faintly. "I win, 'Ermione Granger."

She was too far gone, too mad, too caught up in the web of lies and deceit and cruelty she had begun spinning all those years ago. Hermoine couldn't snap her out of it, couldn't save herself, couldn't save her children from being parent-less. Closing her eyes, she reached out for her magic; surely even the tiniest bit could help her? But no, it was all drained; saving her from the attack of days prior, trying to heal her since then, spending so long lying in disuse born from fear; it was gone. I'll never know if it would have come back. She thought briefly.I'll never see Bill again. Any semblance of the peace she had felt only a minute ago at the idea of death was gone. I'll never tell Rose and Hugo I love them. She wasn't scared, no, but sad. Sad and tired and hopeless and guilty and overwhelming with despairing love that she would never again be able to vocalise.

It was so quiet. So, so quiet. No bells, no screams, barely even the sound of her own breath. But then she must have passed out, because just as a cool voiced started chanting, "Avada-" she could've sworn she heard a young voice scream.

NOOO!