Chapter Two: It'll Be Different With Me
(Hermione's POV)

She walks inside my flat, more beautiful than I remember.
More than I ever could believe. She speaks. "Hermione. How are you?"
Her accent is much better too. The annoying French lilt has subsided to something quite elegant. Do most veelas grow more gorgeous with age? I don't remember- I can't recall anything in my books.
My stupid books that hid me from the fucking war and the pain of everyone but me.

I want to cry.

I want to cry and all she's done is say hi. "Okay, Fleur. You?" Damn this war.
"Ah, mon dieu, fair. I have seen better days." I nod and notice her single black bag. Designer. It must weigh a ton judging from its size. I offer to take it from her.
"Thank you." Her cloak falls from her shoulders and reveals her simple attire. An ironed oxford shit. Faded blue jeans. The only valuable item on her is a diamond ring.
"You want to help the Order?" I'm rather blunt as I pour her tea. Her blonde hair flows as she takes the cup from me.
"If there's work to be done."
"I'm sure there is."
Ron was the last young Order member. Young able member, rather. All I do is research.
The tea is hot, accentuating my discomfort. Fleur, a woman I long forgot, was here. A woman that always intrigued my interest, but I never pursued out of fear.
"Why did you and Bill split up?" It slips out of my mouth before I can stop the clumsy, awkward words from tumbling off my tongue. She smiles with interest, and a musical laugh breaks our silence.

Smiling is against the rules.

Her smile is straight and white. Straight that has nothing to do with magic and white that is not the result of toothpaste.
"That is a long story. Are you sure you want to hear it?"
"Yes." She tells a tale of a romance shattered by jealousy. Bill was convinced she was unfaithful. "I was monogamous until the end."

I believe her.

"I'm sorry." She frowns and finishes her tea. "Don't be. Did you ever have a relationship after Viktor?"
"Viktor and I never…" I pause and go to the point. "Not really."
"You and Ron?"
"Just friends. I never wanted anything other than friendship from anyone. Or, never wanted anything clearly. Ties between friendship and romance blur for me." She laughs again, that fluttering laugh that brightens everything for a second before it subsides.

I like it.

"I'm sure it will be different one day." She gets up from my table and moves to go the room I cleaned for her.
"What do you mean?"

"It will be different with me."

(Ron's POV)

I wake in a cold sweat.
This isn't the first time I don't remember why I'm here.
Oh yeah, Harry. That's why I'm here.
My memory kicks in and I examine my surroundings. A tent, and from the noise, I think it's outside London. The Portkey sent me directly here.
Not bad.
My stomach is still in my throat from the Portkey.
I hate those damn things.
They're worse after alcohol.
The lump of God-knows-what rises to my throat and I try to swallow it down forcefully.

Not hard enough.

The bile explodes onto everything. I mutter some cleaning spells and the mess is gone. The scent lingers.
Like he lingers.

Harry.

Damn you. For everything.
For leaving me to fight alone. You are my best friend, my strength. I can't fight without you.
But I could throw every punch for you.
Yeah, that sounds good.
Every spell and hit is in your name until I find you.
Until.
Until.

Until we get you back.