Hermione took a long drink from her bottle of butterbeer, watching Harry across the coffee table.
The Boy Who Lived was pale, dark marks under his eyes. His face was beginning to take on the haunted look it had exhibited during Voldemort's resurgence all those years ago. Hermione knew without asking that Harry was already shouldering the blame for Ron being taken by Death Eaters.
Harry ran a hand through his messy spikes of raven hair, clearing his throat.
"So… You're saying what? You just won't even look for him?" Harry asked, incredulity evident in his voice.
Hermione narrowed her eyes. She had just finished recounting the entire disaster with the Delacours to Harry.
"Were you not listening?" Hermione snapped, "He tried to take Fleur from me."
Fleur was flitting around in the background of the apartment, cleaning the kitchen and the likes. Despite the intense conversation with Harry, Hermione's eyes constantly wandered to the blonde.
Fleur was dressed in simple torn jean shorts and a white tee shirt, her hair in a loose plait hanging over one shoulder. She looked so painfully beautiful, flashing a smile of support at Hermione intermittently. It was enough to make Hermione's chest ache.
Hermione's golden-brown eyes flicked back to the pale dark haired boy in front of her. Harry was chewing his lip and pushed his round glasses up the bridge of his nose. He appeared to be biting back a response.
"Harry?"
"Its just…" Harry heaved a heavy sigh, leaning forward in his seat and planting his elbows on his knees, "Are you really going to put all that before our friendship? You, me and Ron have been best mates since First Year."
"Ron, you and I," Hermione corrected, before running a hand through her own tangled locks, "And how much do you expect me to forgive, Harry? The line has to be drawn somewhere. He's been truly awful to me for ages now."
"You know he isn't coping," Harry pleaded, locking eyes with Hermione, "I never gave up on you, when… you know."
Hermione swallowed. She herself had said and done plenty of harsh things when she was struggling in the darkness following the war. But she was sure she had never gone that far. What Ron had done was truly vile.
A surge of anger at Ron attempting to marry Fleur re-surfaced at the memory. Hermione's hand clenched into a fist, the other tightening on her butterbeer. Fuck Ron.
"Not happening," Hermione said flatly, "He can get himself out of this one. He's made his bed… He can lie in it."
"Wow…" Harry uttered, getting to his feet with a look of surprise and disappointment, "I never thought you would be one to turn your back on your friends when they need you most."
"Are they really friends when they try to hurt you that much?" Hermione shot back.
But Harry was already at the door, shaking his head.
"If you change your mind, I'll be out with Ginny and the others looking for him," Harry offered, shooting one last hopeful glance at Hermione.
"Fat chance," Hermione huffed.
Harry frowned, leaving the apartment without another word. The door snapped shut behind him loudly.
Hermione slammed her butterbeer down on the coffee table, hard. She stood up, anger coursing through her veins. How dare Harry expect her to forgive Ron? How dare he ask her to put duty ahead of her own happiness, even now?
"Hermione," Fleur lilted in her sweet French accent, approaching Hermione with a soft hand on her arm.
Hermione turned to look at Fleur. Her deep blue eyes were flickering with concern. Her plump pink lips tugging into a concerned frown. Hermione's own eyes were flashing with conflict.
"I think we should discuss what Harry said," Fleur suggested slowly. Hermione shook her head, shutting her eyes momentarily before opening them again.
"I don't want to talk," Hermione said roughly, putting her arms around the blonde's waist. Her hands trailed down to Fleur's ass, squeezing appreciatively before she hoisted the Frenchwoman up and slammed her against a wall. Her lips crashed into Fleur's, stealing a desperate, passionate kiss. Fleur resisted for a moment, before reluctantly giving in to her attraction for Hermione.
Hermione triumphantly smiled into the kiss as Fleur let out a moan. Hermione pushed herself closer against Fleur's body, grinding on her.
As things began to get more heated, Hermione pushed Ron as far out of her mind as she could.
Ron's eyes flickered open.
He was in a dark basement, his hair wet with sweat and stuck down to his head. The metallic taste on his chapped lips seemed to indicate there was blood intermingled with the sweat.
Ron couldn't remember how he had got there. Only blurry memories of a spinning room and rough blows to his body. His hand gripped his ribs as he rose to his feet.
"Fuck," Ron gasped with the pain.
Definitely a few broken ribs. Ron's breath was coming in ragged pants as he swayed on his feet. He must have taken quite the beating last night.
"I need to ease up on the drink," Ron groaned, spitting. A glob of mostly blood landed near his feet and he winced.
Laughing echoed around the dark basement and scattered applause broke out.
Hooded figures emerged from the shadows, forming a loose circle around Ron.
"More like ease up on accepting drinks from strangers," one of the hooded figures laughed, "But your mistake is our gain."
The figures began to pull back their hoods, revealing the tell-tale masks of the Death Eaters. Ron frowned, raising his fists in a weak attempt to keep them at bay. This caused laughter amongst the crowd.
"What d'ya want?" Ron demanded, trying to sound threatening.
The figure that had spoken before stepped forward, the mask glinting ominously.
"What do we want?" the Death Eater replied mockingly, "Well, we don't have much to do these days. On account of the three brats that stole the life of the Dark Lord. In fact, we're at quite the loose end."
Ron spat again, beginning to turn around, trying to see if any of the figures looked familiar behind their mask.
"Yeah, well, try catching a game of Quidditch," Ron responded, frowning.
"No, no," the Death Eater replied, "Quidditch is far too tame for our tastes. We've taken to a new sport."
"Yeah? Bully for you," Ron responded, now frantically looking for any gaps in the circle.
"Its called 'Torture the Blood Traitor,'" the Death Eater said, before erupting into laughter. Ron snapped his head around at this, just in time to see the large fist that was plowing straight into his face.
Ron fell to the ground, stars floating in front of his eyes. He was still dazed as the first kicks began to land in his back and stomach.
Ron couldn't defend himself. Not without a wand. Not against so many. He curled up into the fetal position, willing himself to just wait until the pain passed. But as the first Cruciatus hit him and a scream ripped from his throat, Ron couldn't help but feel every moment of pain.
The worst part… The truly awful part… Was that deep down Ron knew he deserved everything he got.
Hermione loved the way Fleur looked after they had made love. Her hair tousled, her lips swollen and red from kissing. Love bites trailed down the Veela's slender neck to her shoulder. Hermione almost felt guilty, although the fresh scratches Fleur had left on her shoulder blades were probably a fair trade off.
Fleur's eyes were shut contentedly. She breathed heavily as if she were asleep, but the fluttering of her dark long eyelashes indicated to Hermione that she was just resting her eyes after the hours of lovemaking.
Hermione's eyes raked down Fleur's perfect form. She couldn't quite enjoy the view today. Despite Fleur being an exquisite distraction, they couldn't have sex forever. Now it was over, Ron was back at the forefront of Hermione's mind.
"I think you should help them look for him," Fleur murmured. Hermione glanced back at Fleur's face, seeing her eyes were now open and watching her intently. Hermione frowned.
"I don't know what you are talking about," Hermione said defensively. Fleur laughed, her voice a little hoarse.
"You are incapable of playing dumb, mon amour," Fleur responded, "I know you are thinking about Ronald. I think you should help him."
"After what he did to me? To us?" Hermione shot back. Fleur ran a hand up her arm soothingly.
"Once upon a time you hurt me and I forgave you," Fleur replied softly. Hermione winced at the memory.
"That was different," Hermione deflected. Fleur smiled softly.
"Perhaps," Fleur conceded, "But I know deep down you want to help him."
Hermione sighed heavily.
"Why do I always have to be the bigger person?" Hermione demanded. Fleur kissed her softly.
"You would not be you if you left him to die," Fleur replied quietly. Hermione opened her mouth to reply before biting her lip. She turned over in bed to face the wall.
Could she leave Ron to die?