A/N: A little two shot I orginally posted on AO3. Pre-Established Fleurmione.

Hermione's breath came in short pants as she weaved through the trees. She could hear Harry's footsteps thundering beside her, Ron falling further behind. Only one thought went through her head. Just a little more. One more step. Dig a little deeper into her reserves. The Snatchers were gaining, that much could be certain.

How could they be so stupid? Saying his name. Of course there would be a curse on the name. A tracker. They still had so much to do. Just a little more. Could you run forever? Hermione's heart was pounding, her legs aching. Just a little more.

The Snatchers were too close now, Hermione barely missing their curses. She felt one graze her arm, a telltale warm liquid rushing free from the hit. What was she even running for anymore? For the future? For what was right? For muggleborns? For freedom, and peace, and everything that came from it?

For Fleur Delacour.

For the future they dared dream about, in stolen moments.

For the chance, the slimmest possibility of a better tomorrow.

That seemed to be the push Hermione needed, throwing her own spells back over her shoulder. It was too dangerous to attempt to apparate, but she could throw spells in the hope for a little more time.

Just a little more.

Another curse hit Hermione. Landing squarely on her ribs. She barely felt it, not letting her pace falter. She couldn't. Not when her head was filled with Fleur's voice, telling her just a little more. To come back to her.

Hermione Granger promised to come back.

And Hermione Jean Granger never broke a promise.

Just a little more.

She felt, rather than saw, that green curse go flying wildly over her shoulder. It ruffled her hair.

Come back to me, mon amour.

Promets-moi.

Promise me.

Please.

Just a little more.

The next curse sliced her cheek. Root's seem to burst out of the ground, desperately trying to trip the pair as they ran. Ron had been caught, Hermione was certain of this.

Another curse hit Hermione square in the back. This time, she did stumble. Harry fell a few feet in front. The Gryffindor knew it was too much blood. Too much too fast. She raised her wand weakly, hexing Harry straight in the face. His shock was evident, but the damage was done, his face bubbling and enlarging.

You 'ave done zo much.

Just a little more.

The Snatcher's laughed at the pair. A foot stomped on Hermione's back, in the name of good measure. Her vision was fading, fast. Another foot pressing down on her. Pushing her deeper in the mud.

Hermione barely made out her blood soaking the mud around her. It was fitting, in the name of the war, that her blood was returning to the mud, leaving her body almost eagerly. She couldn't hear what their captures were saying. Instead, she allowed her eyes to close. Her thoughts became quiet enough to focus on one thing.

Her Fleur.

Of the stolen kisses at Hogwarts.

Of the future dreams, that now will never come true.

Of the Delacour family, welcoming her with open arms.

Of freedom, and peace, and a future that maybe one day will be the present.

Of their first time together, inexperienced, but memorable.

Of Fleur, standing by her side relentlessly.

Hermione couldn't help the smile that crossed her face, allowing it to sink further into the mud. There were so many things she still wanted to do with her French witch. But there would never be time.

They were out of time.

You don't need to fight anymore mon amour.

I love you.

Je t'aime.

With her stomach pressed into mud, Hermione Jean Granger broke her promise.