The strangest of noises woke Hermione from her surprisingly peaceful slumber. She smiled at the sight of a quietly sleeping Fleur next to her, and kissed her lover on the top of the head. But even the sight of the stunning Frenchwoman wasn't enough to excuse the fact that something that resembled both banging and yelling had woken her up at the ungodly hour of 6 AM. Back in her school days, she had always gotten up early, but the present Hermione had been constantly mentally exhausted and liked to sleep in.
She cursed under her breath in a small stream of Latin. Hermione thought it was better to curse, if one had to, when no one else had any idea what you were saying. She yawned and turned her body to stretch, but jumped up as the noise got louder. It was coming from outside, she knew it. Hermione picked up her wand, dressing quickly in some worn-out Muggle clothes she'd left on the dresser a few days ago, and headed to the front door, instinctively grabbing one of her spare cloaks and covering her face.
She turned the doorknob once her hood was up, and swallowed the compulsion to shriek as half a dozen cameras went off in her face. Hermione raised her wand to cast a spell before she realized that yes; they were cameras, not a horde of Death Eaters. But she still trembled at the sight of the crowd of people on her lawn. She was suddenly hit with a thousand questions, and they overlapped each other and were so loud Hermione felt as if she had just acquired some schizophrenic voices, and hoped to all the gods this was just a dream.
"Miss Granger, is it true you're having an affair with Fleur Dela-"
"Why have you been hiding from the media?"
"Where'd you get those scars, Mudblood?"
The last question echoed in her ears and she bit back a roar of absolute rage. Instead she slammed the door in their faces, which caused even more of a stir. Hermione shook with the mental onslaught she had just faced. How did they know about her scars all of a sudden? How did they know about Fleur? Instinctively, she raised the extended wards around her flat and cast a Silencing charm directed towards the door.
At that moment, Hermione heard one of the Floo security devices on her mantle start to make the annoying sounds that meant someone was trying to get inside through her fire-place. She walked over and flicked the tiny golden switch on the buzzing object, speaking directly into it.
"If I don't know you, leave before they have to shovel pieces of you out of my chimney."
The slightly strained voice of Remus met her senses, and some of the tension in her shoulders slipped away.
"Sorry, Remus."
She lifted the wards for the few seconds he needed to get inside, wand pointed at the front door out of pure paranoia. The instant Hermione saw Remus in the corner of her eye, the magical protections shot back up. She turned to him and grabbed him right by the collar, getting close enough to him almost to kiss. His eyes widened a little, but after a moment, she let him go.
"Before I explain why there are reporters clawing door your door, may I ask what the bloody hell you were just doing?"
"Polyjuice Potion is hard to remove from the breath so it can be a good way to make sure one is not an impostor. I'm…just tense. Now why are these people any where near my house! There was one reporter after the war ended, and I scared him away. What is going on?"
Remus took a paper Hermione wasn't familiar with and handed it to her. i The Wicked Witch /i , she mouthed. And then her jaw dropped. Her silent rage sent a savage chill through her veins. Hermione's hands started to tremble when she raw the picture of her and Fleur kissing on the bed, scars bared to the magic of the camera. The only saving grace was the fact that they had been clothed, but that was of little comfort.
She felt her lover come up behind her, and at the touch of Fleur's hand on her shoulder, Hermione fell to her knees and began retching. Clutching at her throat and swallowing back the taste of bile, she saw Fleur scanning the article she had dropped in her fit of sickness.
"Where did these photos come from?" Her eyes, ablaze with anger, seemed very out of place with her calm tone and relaxed features.
"Rita Skeeter." Hermione choked out, attempting to clean up the mess she had made with her wand. Remus winced sympathetically and calmly cast Scourgify.
"Zat woman who was at ze tournament all those years ago?"
"The same." Remus said gravely. He offered Hermione his hand, and she took it gratefully, standing up straight and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. He continued with, "Harry told me you had found out Rita was an illegal Animagus back in fourth year and that's why she left the Daily Prophet. Is that true?"
Hermione nodded and swallowed hard before speaking.
"She can turn into a beetle. That bitch made Harry's life a mess, and she thought it was a fun idea to take a few shots at me as well. Why would she risk writing this article now, of all times? Just because she's changed newspapers doesn't mean she won't be arrested for being an illegal Animagus."
Remus paused for a moment and then said, "The paper she works for now doesn't really care about any of that. In fact, they probably pay her more because she gets the best stories. The Wicked Witch is a bunch of slanderous articles slapped together and printed to the general population. But they're not well-known. The second they got this picture, however, they probably smelled one of the best scandals in a century."
"Why me?" Hermione demanded, hands shaking as they clutched at the brooch holding her cloak shut.
"You're a member of the famous Golden Trio. You helped save the world from Voldemort. And while everyone suffered through their fifteen minutes under the quill, you disappeared. There were rumors that you were crippled physically, or insane. They must have been furious when they found out you were living under their noses."
"But 'ow did Rita get zat picture? Zat is what I do not understand."
"I don't know! And who could have even put her onto the rumor that we were together when less than a dozen people know. Who would talk to her?"
In the middle of Hermione's rant, which was slowly gaining strength, Remus paled a little bit.
"What's wrong, Remus?" The younger girl raised an eyebrow.
"Ginny."
"She wouldn't." Hermione said, muscles tensing in anger.
"Ginevra," Fleur started, "Is ze only one who reacted with anger to us, 'ermione. Even Ron seemed…neutral, at worst. Perhaps she believes she is avenging ze wrongs she imagines I 'ave done against my late 'usband. I would not be surprised if Miss Weasley told Rita you live 'ere."
"But," Hermione jabbed at another, smaller picture in the article, "This is us, leaving Grimmauld Place and holding hands. How did she get inside?"
"I…" Fleur threw up her hands in frustration, "I do not know. Perhaps she just flew in when ze door was open. Zat does not matter now. We must deal with ze pack of cameras and reporters who want some exclusive interview, or some such nonsense."
"This is private property." Hermione mumbled.
"Then I'll get Nymphadora down here to start making arrests. She's still an Auror, and hopefully they'll scatter when they get a wind law enforcement is showing up."
In the middle of all of this, the Gryffindor actually smiled. Fleur gave Hermione an odd look and the younger girl asked Remus, "Does Tonks know you call her Nymphadora when she's not around?"
He failed at repressing his smile and said simply, "No, she does not. I really would prefer to keep it that way unless you want her bounding after me every time I step after the house."
Hermione started to say something in return, but instead she gasped and promptly collapsed to the floor.
"'ermione!" Fleur kneeled quickly, and with a small noise of effort picked up the younger girl and clutched her tight, listening for a pulse.
"Fleur, use your wand. It'll be quicker to get her into the bedroom." Remus said softly, noting the tension in the older woman's muscles.
Her blue eyes narrowed and she hissed with a gesture at the fallen newspaper, "Zat is what magic 'as done. I trust my strength."
Remus nodded. "Do as you wish. I'm going to Floo Madame Pomfrey. We can trust her to be discreet."
"What about ze wards?"
"If Hermione's unconscious, all of the wards except the ones in the foundations are down."
"Then get Tonks and zat nurse. I do not want anyone breaking our windows to get a picture."
"Alright. Lay her down in the bedroom, and tell me if anything changes."
Fleur gave a curt nod and carried Hermione into the bedroom, kissing her lover on the top of the head and keeping her close against her chest. The Frenchwoman laid Hermione on the bed gently and tucked her in with slightly shaking hands. She sat down next to the younger girl and stroked her hair, face set in tight lines.
The only good thing about this, Fleur mused, was that Hermione looked completely at peace for once, her breathing slow and deep. A few locks of her hair partially obscured the scars on her cheek, and Fleur's heart twisted in a painful dilemma. After all of this, would Hermione want to be covered up in front of her lover, or still allow Fleur to see the aftermath of Bellatrix and Rodolphus' torture, even after the article?
In the quiet of the bedroom, Fleur could hear Remus speaking to a woman in the other room, but she was not close enough to tell exactly who it was. She barely suppressed her urge to jump when Hermione's eyes fluttered open, slow and lucid, as if she'd just been sleeping.
Remus had been quietly speaking to Madame Pomfrey when he heard a stomach-wrenching thud followed by Fleur's hysterical scream. He and the Healer rushed into the room, and Remus' eyes widened when he saw a large bloodstain right above the headboard of the bed.
Hermione was struggling fiercely in Fleur's grip, and viscous crimson fluid was trickling in lines down her forehead. The older woman made pleas for help rapidly in her native tongue; Remus pointed his wand at Hermione, feeling guilty as he cast the Incarcerous spell to bind her to the bed.
Hermione started sobbing when she couldn't move, and Remus had to turn away before he asked, "Fleur, what happened?"
Madame Pomfrey came from behind him and began busying herself by tending to Hermione's cracked skull, her expression grim. Fleur took a deep breath and said, voice quivering, "S-she woke up a minute ago. She was s-smiling, I think. Then 'ermione… apologized to me and slammed 'erself into ze wall. It 'appened so quickly."
"It was probably a botched suicide attempt." Madame Pomfrey said from Fleur's left.
"What?"
"Unless the wand I saw on the floor in the other room was someone else's, she didn't have a magical way to harm herself. So she resorted to Muggle methods."
"They kill themselves by hitting their heads against something?" Remus said, looking a little bewildered.
The nurse cleaned up the blood with a muttered word, and checked the tenderness of Hermione's head after another series of spells before responding with, "Only the truly desperate. Most of them overdose on Muggle medication or use a sharp object. Miss Granger would have had to hit her head enough times to either completely crush her skull or break her neck."
Fleur made a pained noise, but Madame Pomfrey continued.
"Miss Delacour, you should be relieved. If you had not stopped her from doing this a second time, she would have likely suffered permanent brain damage."
"She's been," Remus started, searching for the right words, "Very emotionally unstable since the end of the war. She's been almost strictly solitary, but that's understandable. I guess Hermione had really been on the edge and the article pushed her over it."
"Article?"
"Ze illustrious Rita Skeeter decided to plaster illicitly-taken pictures of 'ermione's scars all over a newspaper."
Madame Pomfrey sighed, her lips pursed. "Didn't anyone think to find her counseling, or have a Healer look at her for signs of depression or post-traumatic stress disorder?"
"She refused everyone's help and since Hermione's an adult, we couldn't force her to see anyone or take any tests."
"What can you do to 'elp 'er, Madame?"
"I can Apparate to St. Mungo's and get some concentrated Pepper-Up Potion to try and stabilize her mood. But in the long run, I recommend taking her somewhere calm and finding a Healer that can be on call in case of any future episodes."
Remus let out a deep breath. "Quiet won't be easy to find with that article floating around."
"Then take her out of the country and see what you can do about getting the article revoked."
"I am not sure about ze latter," Fleur said softly, "But I 'ave a small house near Bordeaux zat she can be taken to."
"I'm sure the article will be news in France too, Fleur."
She made a noise caught between amusement and annoyance. "My country is used to scandals, Remus. It will be forgotten ze moment another politician impregnates 'is Muggle mistress. Our interest in such things is intense, but relatively short-lived."
"Do you have family there?"
"They live a few miles away, but my parents and I 'ave not been on the best of terms."
Remus nodded. "Can I ask why?"
"Because I stayed 'ere rather than going back after ze war."
"Won't they be glad to see you?"
"I would 'ope. But I do not 'ave to depend on them being friendly. It is my 'ome, not a family property."
Madame Pomfrey checked Hermione's temperature and said quietly, "With all of the media around, I would not recommend telling anyone else where you're taking her."
"You can tell Tonks, Remus." Fleur murmured, "But with ze exception of Professor McGonagall and 'arry, if you can get 'im alone, keep 'er secret."
"Of course."
Fleur held back tears as she stroked Hermione's hair, watching her lover drift silently in and out of a haze. After one more spell to keep the younger girl asleep, the Healer stood up and asked Remus to come with her.
"I'll give him the addresses of some private Healers, Miss Delacour," Madame Pomfrey said, "And you can pick which one you would like to tend Hermione."
" i Merci. /i "
And then the two of them were alone. Fleur lay next to Hermione, wincing at the ropes holding her lover still. She kissed Hermione gently on the lips and let her tears pour down her face, and it took a very long time before Fleur could fall asleep, clutching at the younger girl who was whimpering softly from old nightmares.