Both Fleur and Hermione had woken up at a rather early hour of the morning. They tossed and turned next to each other until the younger girl groggily suggested that maybe they should go into the kitchen and make some coffee. Fleur managed to pull herself out of bed after Hermione and they collapsed on the couch next to each other, clutching a ceramic cup in their hands.

"Are you feeling better now?" Fleur said softly, staring off into nothing.

"Yeah," Hermione let out a breath in an attempt to cool her coffee, "I don't know what the hell came over me. I felt like I was in a haze. Everything was calm, and then I saw the article…something snapped. The next thing I remember is my head hurting and the ropes around me."

"Zat Healer Madame Pomfrey said it might be a good idea for us to go out of ze country until some of this settles down. I thought, if you agreed, we could go to my small home in Bordeaux for a few weeks."

"Do you really think it would make a difference?"

"In this case, I believe a change of scenery is for ze better."

"Will your parents be there?"

Fleur's hand tightened around her cup.

"No, they live further north."

"I'm sorry." Hermione grimaced. "I shouldn't have brought them up."

"It is alright." Fleur put her coffee down on the table and looked at Hermione. "So are we going or not, i mon amour /i ?"

"I'll go." Hermione let out a deep breath. "But I don't want a pack of Healers flitting in and out every ten minutes."

"One 'ealer, on call in case of emergencies."

"I'll go pack."

Hermione stood up, suddenly looking more tired than before. Fleur grabbed her wrist just as she was turning to leave for the bedroom, and the younger girl stiffened. She looked down at her lover, a tear sliding down her left cheek.

"We don't 'ave to go right now. It's seven in ze morning. I just wanted to bring it up as an option." Fleur smiled gently. "Let me make you breakfast."

"I…I'm not hungry."

"While this question may seem a little idiotic, what is wrong, 'ermione?"

"Rita Skeeter, of course. I just want to see the woman have the gall to talk to me so I can quietly hex her to oblivion."

At that moment, someone rang the doorbell, startling the younger girl. Fleur walked over to the front door and looked in the peephole. Her jaw dropped a little, but the French-woman recovered her composure quickly and said calmly, "Mon amour, sometimes I wish you would keep such things to yourself."

Hermione's eyes narrowed in anger and she hissed, "Why? You just asked me-"

"Because," Fleur interrupted, "She is right outside your door."

"What?" The younger girl sputtered. "She wouldn't dare…"

Fleur threw her hands up in response and backed away from the door, making a frustrated gesture at the front door.

"Do you wish me to answer it?"

"No," Hermione shook her head, "I'll do it."

With her face set in a frown, Hermione reached for the doorknob and turned it, yanking the door open. Fleur stood in quiet shock, flabbergasted that Hermione hadn't even put on her hood. She loved the younger girl dearly, but part of her realized that Hermione's refusal to hide herself at this moment could lead to dire consequences.

Hermione found herself looking at a slightly green Rita Skeeter. The arrogant smirk that usually graced her features had been turned into a shameless stare. From this reaction, Fleur guessed that Rita hadn't taken too close of a look at the pictures she'd snapped of her and Hermione.

"Miss G-Granger," The blonde reporter quickly tried to retain some semblance of dignity and faked a smile before saying, "What a surprise to see your…face."

Fleur saw Hermione's jaw clench in rage, but she composed a smirk of her own and put her face dangerously close to Rita's before whispering, "A surprise, is it? Why don't you come in and talk about it with us in the living room?"

Rita jerked back, almost tripping on the single step in front of the door. She adjusted her glasses and when Hermione grabbed the front of her jacket, looked like she was about to faint. The scowling girl dragged her inside the flat and slammed the door, turning the lock with a satisfying click.

"'ermione, stop!" Fleur grabbed her lover's wrist, but Hermione snarled at her and pulled away.

The enraged Gryffindor made a lunge at Rita, and the reporter fell backwards, trying to scuttle away from Hermione like a derelict crab. With a curse, Fleur stepped in front of her lover, hands clenched into fists. When Hermione tried to get around her, the older woman reacted by an instinct driven by fear and pulled out her wand, casting a Trip Jinx.

Hermione instantly stumbled, hitting the floor and having all of the air expelled from her lungs. She winced and looked up at her lover, shocked at both what Fleur had just done and from the force of slamming into a wooden floor. Fleur noted that Rita's eyes were practically bulging out of their sockets, and the reporter's rather still figure make it look like she had just been Petrified.

"Fuck…" Hermione managed to get out, her breathing shallow and pained.

"Now," Fleur let out a deep breath, "Now zat both of you 'ave calmed down, we can talk."

The chill in her lover's voice quelled the new wave of anger and indignation Hermione had been about to let out and she managed a weak nod as she got up with a noticeable wince. Rita, on the other hand, picked up the quill and pad of paper that had been dropped during her fall with shaking hands.

"Miss Skeeter, sit at ze table. I need to talk to 'ermione."

Rita nodded a little too quickly and stood up, watching warily as Fleur cast a ward over the door to keep it firmly locked. As she grabbed Hermione by the arm, the French witch looked at Rita and hissed, "And don't even think of using your Animagus abilities to get out of 'ere."

Fleur received a shaky nod and she took Hermione into the bedroom, letting go of the younger girl's arm and closing the door after both of them were inside. She watched Hermione tense up and move to look out the dirty and stained window, resting her hands on the sill as she let out a deep breath.

"I'm sorry for 'exing you, but I think, and you may correct me if I 'ave made a gross error, assaulting zat…pathetic bitch would do more damage than it 'ealed. What she did to us, to you, is beyond cruel, but 'urting her…"

"Would only hurt myself. And you." Hermione said softly, lips barely half an inch from the glass of the window.

"Please forgive me." Fleur whispered, wringing her hands.

Hermione laughed softly. "The grudges I had before I fell in love with you were foolish, and keeping one now wouldn't do anyone good."

Letting out a breath Fleur hadn't known she was holding in, the older witch strode across the room and wrapped her arms around Hermione from behind. When her shoulders scrunched up, Fleur felt guilt eating at her heart. The younger girl turned her head and kissed her love gently on the lips.

"What exactly are we going to talk to Rita about?"

"It is my 'ope zat we can convince her to pull ze article. It will not keep ze knowledge away from those who 'ave already read it, but I think it will stem ze tide."

"Then let's do it. If she gets her wits about her, she'll fly out of here at the first opportunity."

"Of course, my love."

Fleur kissed the top of Hermione's head and they went back into the living room to find Rita writing furiously, her features distorted with anger. When she looked up and saw Fleur frowning and Hermione sneering, Rita roughly flipped her notepad closed and shoved her acid-green quill back into her purse.

"You have no right to keep me here!"

"Your claws grew back," Hermione smirked, "It doesn't make a difference."

"And why is that?"

"Because," The younger girl sat down and gestured for Fleur to do the same, "You're going to give us what you just wrote and pull any further production of the article you just published."

"I won't be doing any such thing." Rita laughed. "Even after getting a face full of acid, you haven't changed. From what I heard from Draco Malfoy during the Triwizard Tournament, you slapped him hard enough to see stars. So obviously violence isn't anything new either."

Hermione paused and her eyes narrowed. "Who told you acid caused my scars? There are plenty of magical ways it could have happened."

Rita fidgeted for a few seconds before saying coolly, "I always have my sources, silly girl. Those who wish to keep themselves anonymous. So do yourself a favor and keep your nose clean before you get that fucked up too and I have to update my little photo gallery."

"Tell me before I give you some scars to match mine."

"You can't hurt me, Granger. If you even lift a damn finger in my direction, I'll splatter you all over the front page again and get some of the more conservative Aurors to come and arrest you for your indiscretion. I'm sure if select words are chosen to describe," Rita looked at Fleur and smiled, "your conduct with Miss Delacour, you'd be surprised at the extent those who espouse the law could be convinced to bend it. All for the sake of common decency, of course."

Hermione clenched her jaw, her whole body shaking as she controlled the urge to scream at Rita. Fleur gently stroked the top of Hermione's left hand and asked with a dangerous purr edging her tone, "Who is pulling your strings, Rita? Who could give you an absolute pardon from your illegal Animagus transformations and line your pockets? Because even with this article, I doubt the Wicked Witch is eager to 'and over ze Galleons."

"As if I would tell you, pretty girl. There's nothing you can offer me that my benefactor can't trump in a hot second. Besides," Rita hissed, "if I give up the game now, I lose the last of my payment, so don't even think that the article will be pulled. It's breaking world fucking records and it's my way back to the top."

"You selfish bitch."

"It pays well."

Rita stood up and Fleur jumped up, reaching for her wand.

"You don't have any ground to stand on either, Miss Delacour. You're in those pictures too. So unless you're going to curse me and allow me to prosecute you and your little girlfriend for everything you're worth, remove the wards on the door and let me live. I'll even give you the courtesy of not publishing today's little snag."

"Give me your notebook and I will dispel ze wards."

Rita licked her lower lip and smirked. "What's the magic word?"

Hermione gave her a look that screamed murderous intent but Rita was unfazed.

Fleur let out a sigh of frustration and said, "Please."

"That's a good girl." Rita chuckled and tossed the notebook at Fleur, who grudgingly raised her wand to remove the wards.

She was stopped when Hermione grabbed her wrist and growled, "Hand over the quill too, Rita. I'd bet my Auror's pension it records everything you write so you can spew it back out later."

The blonde reporter swore under her breath but roughly shoved the quill into Fleur's open hand. With a muttered word of thanks, the Frenchwoman dispelled the locking ward on the door and Rita walked out, slamming it hard behind her. That particular crash was echoed by a second and Fleur whirled around, crushing the quill in her tight grip.

Hermione had slammed both of her fists into the table and was quietly sobbing. Fleur gently rested her hands on Hermione's shoulders and Fleur was silently relieved when her lover allowed to her to bring her into the bedroom. She lay down next to Hermione on the bed and held the younger girl tight in her arms until she stopped crying.

"We need to pack." Hermione whispered, and Fleur nodded, not saying a word when Hermione fell asleep moments later.