Monday morning, she woke up feeling drained beyond belief, and it only took a few seconds for the events of last night to come racing back to her. It was as if she still felt the waves pushing her left and right, a constant ebb and flow present in her chest. It almost overpowered her other thoughts.

Almost.

A series of sharp taps against her bedroom window made her jump. An augurey sat in the window with a letter in its beak. The presence of that particular bird could only mean two things. Either that the letter was from her boss, the Head of The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, or that she was about to die (which she found unlikely, but morbidly funny, given the circumstances). Hermione got up haltingly, already dreading the contents of the letter. She opened the window, and waited for the bird to hand it to her. As soon as it did, it was already on its way without a peep from its beak.

"A summons, then, most likely." Hermione muttered aloud as she broke the wax seal. A short note from her boss was inside.

Dear Hermione,

Why do I have to be informed by Harry Potter, of all people, of your return? Come into the office so we can talk!

Yours,

Gethsemane Prickle

Right. She had no illusions about Ron not telling Harry that she was in the country again, if only to complain. Why Harry then went to her boss about it was beyond her. Did he want to talk to her? Did he go looking for her at work? He knew where she lived - this made no sense.

During the last several years, their correspondence grew more and more stilted as she withdrew into herself. Stilted enough, Hermione realised, that she got no word about Fleur's divorce for possibly more than a year.

Not that that changed anything.

Now that her boss knew she was able to go back to the office, she'd have to go in and give a report on her findings, however slim. As much as she didn't want to deal with this, it at least served as a distraction from the memories of last night pressing on her mind. The need to make a decision had to be put on the back burner for the time being.

She tossed the note on her unmade bed, not bothering to straighten the covers. She was still clad in the clothes she borrowed from Fleur. She took a fleeting look at herself in the mirror before she decided she had to change. Regardless of how awful she felt, she had to look presentable.

No matter how she wanted to, she couldn't find the strength within her to shower, so she just donned a sensible work robe, gathered her travel notebook, and before she could second guess herself, she twisted on the spot, and apparated to the Ministry.

Best to get it over with.

"You wanted to see me?" Hermione asked in place of a greeting as she ducked into the office of her boss.

"How long have you been back this time?" Gethsemane replied with a question, already impatient.

"Just this weekend. I didn't know I was obligated to report over my days off?"

"You're obligated to keep me up to date on your schedule. You should have notified me a week ago that you'd be returning."

"I was… preoccupied."

"As you always are, this time of the year… As all of us are." Gethsemane trailed off, no doubt thinking of the narrow victory over Voldemort's forces.

"Harry came looking for me?"

"He wanted to ask about you - how you've been." Gethsemane waved a hand dismissively, as if finding the line of inquiry ridiculous.

"I find that hard to believe" Hermione muttered "Sorry if he was a bother. He should have come to me."

"No matter. It was time I contacted you anyway, with you being gone off the face of the earth for so long. One of these days, you won't answer my letters anymore, and I'll have to wonder what became of you until an unlucky cursebreaker finds your withered corpse in some ditch deep in the woods." Gethsemane replied with humour and annoyance mixing in her voice

Hermione cringed at the casual mention of her hypothetical corpse in a ditch. She gave a sigh, deciding on her best course of action.

"I was actually about to ask for a sabbatical. I-"

"A sabbatical?!" Gethsemane rounded on her. "You've been on a sabbatical for eight long years, Granger, and my patience is wearing thin!"

"I've been bringing you invaluable data!"

"Once or twice a year! You drop in, unannounced, looking like death warmed over, scratch together a report, and before I can give you any real work, you're gone again, with no contact for months! I tried to be patient and generous with you, considering your role in winning the war, but this can't go on forever!"

Hermione didn't want it to go on forever, either. She didn't plan on it from the get go - she thought she'd come up with a solution for her predicament in a few months, and get back in the swing of things. Oh, how wrong she'd been. She could almost feel the salty bite of seawater in lungs, bubbling up and suffocating her. She swallowed hard, struggling to stay present.

"I apologise" She croaked out, voice hoarse. "But my mental state is deteriorating rapidly, Gethsemane. I've been experiencing auditory hallucinations for a while, but in the past few days, after my… customary visit, I've experienced a visual hallucination. I don't feel confident in my ability to work anymore until the matter's cleared up, especially after-"

She steeled herself, willed herself to say the words. To come clean. Telling her boss she was losing it was long overdue.

"Especially after I took an attempt at ending my own life last night." She delivered in a tone devoid of all emotion. She felt the waves lap at her ankles, and squeezed her eyes shut.

All the fight drained from Gethsemane. The woman leaned forward, and looked - really looked - at Hermione for the first time since she entered.

"Hermione-" She gasped.

"It's alright." Hermione added, as an afterthought, her eyes still squeezed shut. "I just wanted to let you know I wanted to take a little time to finish it."

"F- Finish what?"

"I decided to abandon my project, for my- for the wellbeing of all parties. I'm going to accept the bond." She said, her voice no louder than a whisper.

Gethsemane sagged in her seat, not believing her ears. Ten long years it took for Hermione to say these words, during which time she never even wavered once from her decision to keep fighting it.

"If you think nothing is left to try." Gethsemane said dumbly after a few beats

"Thank you. I'll be in touch."

With that, she was out the door, not deeming to answer her boss's shouted inquiries about how long she thought she'd be away.

It was just her luck that she finished her meeting with Gethsemane around lunchtime. Employees from all departments of the Ministry were walking about, making their way to the canteen, or towards the exits to have a meal outside. Her hands itched to pull the hood of her cloak over her head to avoid being recognised by anyone.

Ever since her departure on her "world tour", reporters from wizarding Britain had been dying to get her for a picture or an interview. Ron and Harry stayed in the public eye as they remained in the country to train as Aurors, but the people were hungry for news on the third part of their trio. Hermione couldn't decide what would be worse - being bombarded by interview questions, or bumping into one - or both - of the boys.

Just when she thought she'd made it, a call of her name stopped her from stepping into the designated Apparition area.

"Hermione?!"

She debated fleeing, but quickly abandoned the idea. She decided to stop putting things off for later from now on. She turned, and came face to face with Harry Potter.

"Hermione-"

His expression was a mix of things: disbelief, hurt, anger, disappointment, fear, longing. Hermione wasn't sure she had it in her to unpack all of that. Not now. A few years back, she might have jumped at the opportunity to reconnect, but all she felt in this moment was that she wanted to run. They were frozen in place, her with her body half facing away from Harry, him with an arm tentatively reaching towards her. People grumbled unpleasantly as they dodged around them to make their way to the Apparition point. If they had to have this conversation now, Hermione would rather not have an audience.

"Let's go somewhere else." She said, and grabbed hold of Herry's outstretched arm. She pulled him onto the Apparition platform, and with half a twist of her body, they appeared in the middle of Hyde Park, hidden by a crop of trees new to the water. Harry arrived quite roughly, stumbling and having to catch himself on the trunk of a tree. Hermione regarded him for a second, fondly remembering that he never was any good at magical transportation, and grateful for at least this little constant in her world, but her expression soured quickly. She turned away, quickly transfigured her robes into muggle clothing, and went in search for an empty bench, Harry following closely behind.

In a few minutes, they were sitting rather awkwardly next to each other, looking out at the water. Hermione tried to avoid being increasingly aware of the phantom feeling of cool currents dancing around her ankles, her shins - the water called to her with its siren song. She shivered, and looked at Harry instead.

"You were looking for me?"

"Ron told me you've been by the Burrow. He was quite furious."

"He has every right to be." Hermione sighed

"I don't think so, no." Harry retorted, tiredly as if he'd been over this with him a million times. He probably had been. "It's nobody's fault, what happened, only… it could have been handled better. I don't even understand why you do what you do anymore."

"... Handled better?" Hermione asked, her voice dangerously low.

"You could have, I don't know-" Harry started, throwing his hands up in the air "-not ran away from all of your problems, all of… everything. We could have helped. We could have listened. We could have worked it out."

Hermione turned her attention back to the lake, and focused on a raft of ducks while she tried to stop herself from letting out a cutting retort. Something like "No, we couldn't have", or "You have no idea what I'm up against" or "It's not your problem to solve, Harry, you don't have to save everyone" or "I wasn't running away". But that last one was as good as a lie, wasn't it?

The truth was, she held on pretending that everything was alright for far too long. The thoughts, the compulsions, and the unsoothable nervous itch beneath her skin became a part of her daily life after a few months. In a year, she'd been through most - if not all - literature in English pertaining to her situation, and she had to utilise translation charms and garner information from foreign associates to continue her search. Maybe if she gave up pretending to be okay after the two years she spent still in the country after it happened, she could have saved everyone involved from a lot of grief. She wasn't any closer to a solution than she was now. But Hermione Granger was nothing if not stubborn. And having a problem she didn't know the solution to scared her deeply.

So she ran. One evening, she just packed up her things, left a note, and was off to faraway lands. It was no coincidence, however, that it was the same night that she visited Fleur for the first time after two years, not bearing to see her for so long, and asked her about the Veela. She was at her wit's end, and figured she'd ask the source.

Fleur ushered her out of the house, anxiously glanced at Bill from the corner of her eye as they went out the front door and told her about the Veela after they settled on the beach, the waves lapping at their feet. She told her how every Veela had a destined mate, how deeply set and archaic it was, but that she couldn't help it that she also did - and that it was Hermione. She told her that mates were supposed to be a perfect match, set to live a long and happy life forever. And she told her that as Veela, it was her responsibility to ensure that. It was in her nature to bend till she broke to satisfy every need of the one chosen for her. And in making them happy, she would find happiness and fulfilment. It was the way of the Veela, however contradictory in and of itself.

The monologue was delivered with such pain, such venom, that Hermione came to the conclusion that she only had one option: she had to run. She couldn't bear the thought of unwillingly forcing someone to be different than they inherently were. So she had to keep herself away. Fleur was already happy with Bill, and maybe, just maybe, if she disappeared, Fleur could continue to be.

Maybe it would fade, she thought then.

But it never did.

"Well, I'm back now. I'm done." She said, bringing herself back to the present. She felt Harry's eyes focus on her in an instant.

"What?"

"I don't expect anyone to take me back with open arms. I know I stepped on a lot of toes, kept everyone away, and it will take some time for things to settle, but…"

She never intended to show how it affected her, and so she pushed everyone away. She felt. for a long time, that she deserved to be alone.

"I've arrived at the only solution-"

"That's good, right? That's-"

"I'm going to accept the bond."

"Oh."

She was determined not to tell anyone else about last night. That solution was unacceptable. She shuddered to think about it. Fleur was right - perhaps she did it at Shell Cottage because she wanted to be saved.

"I realise it's not what everyone on… your end was hoping for, but I've dedicated almost a third of my life to this, and I've had enough."

Harry cringed. He remembered that in her attempts to cut even the idea of Fleur out of her life, she stopped attending any and all Weasley family gatherings soon after the war. She made up ridiculous reasons for not being able to make it at first, but… Harry also remembered the fallout after the truth came out. When Bill and Fleur's marriage started coming apart at the seams. He constantly felt like back in Hogwarts, whenever Ron and Hermione had a row, and he played the middle man. He still felt that way, sometimes.

"All I ever wanted for you was to be okay… To be happy. If you want it to be over, if that'll give you peace… That's fair, I suppose."

But you sided with them, Hermione thought bitterly, but she couldn't really blame him. They were the only family he knew, and she wasn't selfish enough to wish he'd went against them.

"I just… I never wanted this. I'm sorry for everything, Harry, but believe me, I had good reason to do what I did. But I also have to do this next thing. And if it means the Weasleys will never speak to me again, then…" She trailed off, unable to finish her sentence. Her eyes burned with tears threatening to fall.

"Now that you're in Britain, though, do you think we could…?"

"I'll keep in touch." She said, and stood abruptly, refusing to let Harry see her like this. Maybe they were close enough once, for her to cry on his shoulder, but that was a long time ago. And with Harry being so closely entwined with the Weasley family, it wouldn't be like that again any time soon, either.

She looked around, making sure no-one was looking, and apparated with a soft pop before Harry could stop her. She had one more stop to make.

She appeared on the beach beside Shell Cottage. Now, in the daylight, the sea seemed less angry. The skies were clear, and the winds were quiet for the moment. She felt her stomach twist itself in knots at the sound of the waves, however. She looked at the house, unsure about going in. Fleur would probably still be at work.

She decided to wait for her where she was. It was almost a habit, waiting for her by the water. Giving her the opportunity to decide whether she wanted to speak or not. She concentrated on the ebb and flow of the waves as they came and went. She took her shoes off, and buried her toes in the pebbles and sand, safely away from the water. The coarse grains and sharp edges were pleasantly cool and distracting - she could feel her heartbeat slowing, and her breath evening out. She gathered her strength as she mulled everything over one last time. As she resigned herself to what had to be done.

Maybe moments, but possibly hours later, the bang of a door bursting open drew her from her thoughts, and as she turned, she saw Fleur racing toward her, still in her Gringotts uniform.

"Hermione!"

"Fleur?"

The blonde stopped next to her, panting and clutching at her chest, a wild look in her eyes.

"For a second I thought…"

She didn't finish the sentence, and she didn't need to. Hermione knew what this must have looked like.

"I'm… I'm sorry I scared you."

Unsure of how to go on, she settled on looking out to the sea, however unnerving it was to face it so soon. She was used to talking to Fleur like this by now. Besides, she didn't think herself capable of saying what she meant to say while looking at her directly. She knew it would change the two of them forever.

They stood there in silence for a while, a few paces apart. As she closed her eyes again, and breathed in the salty air, she felt a strange calm settle over her. Her thoughts quieted, and the itching under her skin eased.

This was it.

"Join me?" She asked, her voice shaky.

As she glanced back, she noticed Fleur was completely floored by her request. She extended a hand for emphasis. Fleur looked at it uncertainly, but took it. Hermione could feel that Fleur's hand was just as clammy as her own. She gave it a squeeze, and felt instantly warmer. Fleur squeezed back. She looked at her intently, not wanting to miss a word she said. Not now. Not ever.

With one last, deep breath, Hermione started speaking.

"You've told me enough about Veela, I think. What more is to know, I'll have to find out through experience, won't I?" she said with a wavering voice

"Hermione?"

"I still have a couple of hangups, but I realise, resisting for the sake of resisting makes for a tedious and very lonely life… if the last 10 years are any indication."

"'Ermione, what are 'ou saying?" Fleur asked, letting her accent thicken in her shocked state

With a sigh, Hermione stepped closer to Felur, bringing them about a foot apart, and looked her in the eye. Her whole body felt like it was cast in lead, her own psyche fighting against the one thing she wanted so desperately to avoid saying for a decade.

"I'm saying yes. I'm giving in. If you'd want me to, that is." She amended

Fleur went rigid and stumbled back half a step in surprise. She felt Fleur's hand go limp in her grasp. Hermione faltered, but decided to go on before she lost her nerve.

"I- I don't want to rush into anything! I'm not going to promise you anything except that I will keep an open mind and… And I'll work with you on this. I've caused everyone enough grief as it is, with how I carried on."

There was a long silence, only interrupted by the waves breaking on the shore, while Hermione waited for Fleur to gather herself and react.

"I'm… That's… That sounds…" Fleur said, fighting back tears. Hermione wanted to comfort her, and she finally allowed herself to give into her urges. She leaned forward and enveloped Fleur in a gentle, yet confident hug, giving her ample time to step out of it. She felt Fleur embrace her, cling to her, ball her fists into her clothes, and pull her closer, closer, impossibly closer. Her body jerked once, twice, three times with heavy sobs as she began openly crying. Hermione's tears came to her unbidden, too, as she finally let go of the pressure that built inside her for what seemed like an eternity.

She didn't know how long they stood there, and she didn't care. Everything else ceased to exist, and the pressure to touch, to feel, to think, suddenly disappeared, and got replaced by a feeling of belonging she didn't quite trust yet. Nevertheless, they held each other, desperately, tenderly, cautiously, as they let their frustration go.

"I'm so scared." Fleur whimpered, more vulnerable than Hermione had ever seen her. She could do little else than hold her a bit tighter.

"After so long… I don't want to… lose yourself. I told you about Veela, and I understand that's what we do, but… I don't want that. I should get to stay my own person."

Hermione wholeheartedly agreed, but was taken aback by Fleur's candor. All this time, she never even seriously considered Fleur might not want the same thing, and now, being faced with the possibility, shook her to the core. She cursed her stubborn, narrow minded view - but of course, she knew if only one of them wanted it, it wouldn't work. She had to separate the thoughts and hallucinations that tormented her from the actual person, and she had to do it quickly if she wanted to do this right. After all, Hermione never heard Fleur's actual self ask her to accept the bond.

She drew back a bit from the embrace, but didn't let Fleur go. She needed to look her in the eye for this. She needed her to know she was earnest.

"Fleur, do you… if you don't want this, if you're not ready, that's okay." She said, and felt, deep within her, that it was the right thing to say. After all, going forward, Fleur had a bit more to lose. If she wasn't ready, Hermione would step back and give her time, no matter how desperately she wanted the torment to end. It was why she stalled in the first place, so forcing it now would be quite hypocritical.

Fleur's eyes swam with tears, but she didn't give an answer yet. Hermione inwardly shuddered at the thought, the possibility of her refusal, but she went on to reassure her further.

"I agree that you should stay your own person." Hermione said with a softness to her voice she didn't know she possessed. "And I meant what I said. I'll work with you on this. I want to get to know you. Unless I misread the entire situation and you don't want me to give in. You'll have to tell me what to do, and how, because-" her breath caught.

Because now that I think about it, I can't figure out why you would want this.

Because I have no idea how I'm going to make this work.

Because I'm terrified.

Because I've never had a relationship before.

Because I'm not even sure if I was gay before this happened.

"-because you should have a say. You deserve that. I'm serious. I'm willing to do this however you want. Whenever it gets too much, or… anything. I just want you to tell me. If you want me to go, and never come back, just say so. "

Hermione felt Fleur ball her fists into her jacket, saw her squeeze her eyes shut as frustrated tears ran down her cheeks. Her shoulders shook with heavy sobs, and Hermione could do nothing but stare, sensing that if she moved, she might spook her. She resolved herself quietly to accept whatever fate Fleur decided for them. After all, a partnership took two to work.

"I… No, I…" Fleur stuttered out "I don't want you to- to run anymore."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." Fleur said while nodding, and wiping at her cheeks. "I'm ready."

Hermione's lips curved into a bittersweet smile.

"Okay. Okay. Just… remember, if there's anything you want or don't want-"

"I… yes. Okay… I'll… Thank you. I'll try to do that."

Hermione recognised it for what it was. Fleur would try to remain true to herself because it was important to Hermione. She only hoped that behind her compulsion to do so, she was at least a tad grateful for this small mercy.

She buried herself back into Fleur's embrace, and felt the other woman sag against her, too. She let her tears fall. There was no escaping this, was there?