Hi everyone,

it's Monday again. I've been having a pretty bad week so I thank everyone for all their kind words in the messages and reviews. They were little bursts of light in an otherwise mostly crappy time. This fandom/shipdom is so nice, I'm overwhelmed. Thank you, everyone.

I haven't heard back from the fanfiction people about the quotation mark/apostrophe thing, which means we'll all have to endure more punctuation mark anarchy. Sorry.

Anyway, this is Chapter Three and it's more Fleur/Hermione time :)

Have a good Monday and please let me know what you think in the reviews.

Chapter Three

The next morning, Hermione woke because she heard a familiar sound. It took her a few seconds to fully wake up and realise that the noise was Harry's snoring from across the room. She moved to sit up and instantly noticed that the salve must have worn off. Determined to win back some of her independency, she picked up three vials from the tray on her beside cabinet and saw that they were labelled according to the time of day and use. There was 'morning pain', 'morning nerves' and 'morning healing'. She swallowed all three of them and waited for the pain potion to kick in as well as it could.

Harry was still snoring in his armchair, at least until Hermione threw her pillow at him. Harry woke with a start. He immediately drew his wand and looked around the room in alarm. 'What?… Where?… Who?' he stammered in confusion before he noticed the pillow and the laughing Hermione in her bed.

'Blimey, Hermione, I thought someone was attacking us! Why would you do that?' Harry complained half-heartedly. Seeing Hermione laugh made any and all anger dissipate instantly.

'Oh Harry, you were snoring! How am I supposed to get better if I can't get any sleep?' she protested for show.

'It's just your luck that you are injured, or I would be over there giving you the pillow fight you deserve!' Harry laughed and picked up Hermione's pillow before stuffing it behind her back, so she could sit comfortably.

'Are you hungry? Should I get Ron to prepare you breakfast and torture another insect into being a vase?' the Boy Who Snored asked.

'I was wondering about that. When did he start to be so…so…not like himself?' Hermione asked.

'He's given it a lot of effort in the last few days. He was even helping Fleur without turning purple in the face or losing his speech. We are all very impressed,' Harry said.

'Why the sudden change, though?' Hermione wondered aloud.

'I think it might have something to do with a certain witch but I wouldn't ever tell you that because I promised,' Harry grinned and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. He wasn't sure if there was something going on between the two of them but he was sure of his male best friend's intentions. They had talked about it at length while Hermione was still unconscious.

Hermione took a moment to realise what he was saying and then protested vehemently, 'Oh no, Harry, he's not doing all of this for me, is he?'

'Yes, of course he is. Who did you think I was talking about?'

Hermione frowned. This wasn't good. She had no intention of ever falling for Ron. He was a nice boy but he was her best friend and that was all he would ever be to her.

Harry saw Hermione's predicament and took her hand, 'You don't have to say anything. I understand. If you're absolutely sure, I'll talk to him. It will be a tough pill to swallow but I think I can get him to understand.'
Hermione nodded. She was thankful that Harry was such an observant person and didn't need much of an explanation.

Hermione's healing made slow but steady progress over the next few days. Her bruises and lacerations healed well and her ribs made some progress too. The deeper cuts and the stab wound had closed, but were still tender to the touch. The only thing that made Fleur really worry were Hermione's nerves. She was still complaining about pain when she moved and her hands were shaky. The salve helped but only for a few hours and they had decided to use it before bedtime to make Hermione sleep more easily. She had gone through all her books on healing at least four times to find something that would help with the nerve issue and the wound on the arm. So far, she had had no luck. It was bugging her a lot, since she had always considered potions one of her talents.

It was a cool spring morning when Hermione decided that she would take a walk. It still hurt to move, but she had noticed that it got better as soon as her muscles were used to the motion. She was sure fresh air was the way to go. After a while, exhaustion caught up with her though and she looked for a place to rest. Sitting on a rock, letting her feet dangle in the water that lapped at the natural barrier, she tried her best to relax.

The problem was that relaxing meant letting her mind wander and as soon as she let her mind have free rein it started to think about Malfoy Manor. She had been avoiding that the last few days by keeping busy. She had helped talk to Ollivander and Griphook and they had begun to talk about their next steps. She had kept Fleur and Luna company and helped Bill pick flowers for the kitchen table. She was still taking Fleur's sleeping potion, without it, she suspected she'd lay awake all night desperate to shut down her brain. It was like a nagging little sibling, wanting attention constantly and the more she ignored it the harder it tried.

She was so afraid of her memories that she was basically controlling every thought she allowed herself to have. It was a very exhausting endeavour, even for Hermione.
She had briefly considered talking to Harry but she knew from the way he looked every time she flinched in pain, that he felt incredibly guilty about not having been able to save her. Telling him how she was haunted by fear and memories wouldn't really help that.

She had hoped that it all would get better with time. But it was like an ever expanding rubber band. She new she would snap soon if she couldn't find a way to relax.

But she wanted to do that alone, where nobody could see her panic if her thoughts strayed too far. She felt like the lab rat in her own experiment. But she was clever enough to know that without getting over this, there was no way of going on with their quest and, consequently, of winning this war. They all had to be at their very best.

Hermione took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She concentrated on the soothing grumble of the ocean and the shrieking of the seagulls preying on little fish at the water surface.

Very quickly, the swooshing of the waves turned into the sound of Hermione's blood rushing through her ears and she was back on the floor in Malfoy Manor. Her heart was beating too fast and her breathing was irregular. She felt like she was drowning and fought back the thoughts that had made her panic in the first place. It took her a while to regain control and she was glad for her foresight of taking this trip alone. The others would only be worried and that wouldn't help anyone. She was a Gryffindor, for Merlin's sake. She would face her fears head on and she would get over it, even if it took a couple of tries.

In a later attempt, she was desperate enough to give a completely different strategy a chance. So far, she had avoided any and all thoughts on this matter as best as she could but maybe it would help her get better. She closed her eyes and imagined Fleur's hands as they felt every day when she was redressing her wounds. She purposefully didn't think of the salve. She wasn't here to give in to her fantasies, after all. She pushed all bemusement aside and concentrated on the cool sensation of Fleur's touch, the softness of her skin and the long slender fingers, that moved so skilfully. But soon enough, the French woman's hands turned into the paws of Bellatrix Lestrange and even though it hadn't happened, Hermione found herself trapped in thoughts about the vile woman touching her skin, destroying what Fleur had so diligently repaired. That dropped Hermione into a fully fledged panic attack which took even longer to get under control. Hermione was near tears. This was so frustrating. Why couldn't she get this right? It didn't help that she told herself it was only a memory, that she was safe, that there was nothing to fear on this very beach.

Meanwhile, Fleur was standing at her kitchen window, pretending to peel the potatoes. She had an idea of why Hermione had wanted to take a walk, insisting on going alone. This was one rare occasion where Fleur wanted to be wrong but she had gotten to know Hermione well enough to understand how she worked. She didn't want Hermione to think she had to deal with everything herself. It was clear to Fleur by the way Hermione behaved that she was on the edge and she could only assume it was thoughts of Bellatrix Lestrange that kept her there. Fleur set herself a deadline. For now she would accept Hermione's wish to take her walks alone, but if she didn't get better she would talk to her. She wanted her to know that she was here to listen. Nobody should need to deal with this alone, let alone a beautiful, young woman with a future as bright as Hermione's. Hermione had done nothing to deserve this; Fleur was sure of it. Hermione was kind and selfless, way too stubborn, and had such incredibly silky skin. Immediately, Fleur stopped her mind from going further. Hermione was her patient and even if she had silky skin that was nothing that should concern her. She shut down the irritating voice in her head that pointed out everything that Fleur found appealing in Hermione.

Fleur was incredibly glad to be interrupted by her husband hugging her from behind and whispering in her ear, 'Isn't it great to see Hermione already take walks, as good as new.'

Fleur rolled her eyes. She knew Bill could be a very insightful man and was caring and kind, but sometimes it was just too easy to fool him. But maybe all Weasley's were, at least if she could judge them by the two that currently lived under her roof. Ron had stopped fawning over Hermione after just one day of her being awake. Maybe Fleur was doing him an injustice but it seemed he even avoided Hermione and how could she not think that all his caring had been a charade. And now Bill was apparently just as blind to the state the young woman was in.

'I don't know, Bill. 'er body might be 'healing fine, but what about 'er mind? What she's been through would send the 'ardest Aurors reeling,' Fleur spoke, still looking out the window.

'She'll be fine, love. Between the things I can see and the things you have told me, Hermione will be just fine. She's such a strong girl. If anyone knows her way through this, it's her,' Bill insisted before letting go of his wife and disappearing from the kitchen.

A wave of sudden anger swept over the French witch. How could Bill think that Hermione would just miraculously be ok after being tortured like that? How could he be so callous and insouciant? And calling her a girl, when she knew first hand that Hermione grown to be a stunning young woman! Fleur let out a frustrated growl and threw the potato back into the bowl. She had decided to go talk to Hermione now. Where was the point in letting the pour woman struggle on her own, just to have the men of the house believe she was fine. She would talk to Hermione before any of them came up with a clever way of putting more pressure on her.

Hermione hadn't moved from the rock since she got there. She had tried for the umpteenth time now, without success. She was still busy getting her nerves under control, when she felt a cool hand on her shoulder. She recognised Fleur's touch and instantly calmed down. She knew the French witch's hands just as well as they knew her and they had always been very good to her. Hermione had gotten accustomed to Fleur taking care of her wounds very quickly. It had built a lot of trust between the two women. And quite frankly, Hermione enjoyed being taken care of for a change.

'Can I sit?' Fleur asked and Hermione made a little more room on her rock.

''ermione, I…' Fleur started but Hermione interrupted her.
'Fleur, I think I know why you're here but I just need a bit more time. I will be fine,' she said. Fleur could see the fear and the panic barely below the surface but she couldn't force Hermione to talk about them if she wasn't ready.

Instead, Fleur put her arm around Hermione's shoulders. She knew that Brits weren't huggers and especially Hermione usually took a while to warm up to a person but she was sure they had passed that stage a while ago. Her arms had a mind of their own anyway and Hermione surprised her by not seeming to mind the physical contact at all, leaning on her shoulder in return.

They sat, looking out at the sea, just enjoying the fresh breeze.
Fleur broke the silence and spoke softly, 'We don't know each other very well and only for a short time, so please stop me if I'm overstepping my bounds. I don't want to push but I want you to know that you don't 'ave to, nor should you, get through all of this alone. You need to stop keeping everything in and then 'iding out here to deal with it. It doesn't 'ave to be me. I'm sure Luna is a good listener and 'arry as well. But please, don't do this to yourself.'

Hermione remained silent for a while and looked out at the horizon.

'Harry already feels guilty, I don't have to burden him with the details. I'm not sure I want to talk about it at all, Fleur. It just needs time to heal. Just like my wounds,' Hermione said, but she wasn't sure she believed herself.

'If not today, then maybe another day. I'm not saying you 'ave all the time you need. We both know what will 'appen to You-know-who if 'e is unopposed for too long. If muggle 'istory taught us anything, it is to stop evil as early as possible and we 'ave waited too long already. I don't want this to be another Great War. But 'ermione, take some time at least to get as well as you can. I don't want you out there fighting evil while you're vulnerable and off balance.' Fleur said and squeezed Hermione's shoulder.

'You know muggle history?' Hermione said, changing the topic. Fleur accepted her choice and replied, 'Yes, of course I do. That's one of the reasons why I still think Beauxbaton is the better school. And I 'ave told you our cook is a muggle.'

Hermione smiled, 'Yes, there is definitely some work to be done on the curriculum at Hogwarts.'
'There you go, this could be your first job after this is all over,' Fleur suggested.
'You think they'd let me do that? I haven't even finished school. I'm a dropout,' Hermione said nonplussed as she realised that this was an apt description of her.
'Don't be silly! Of course, they would let you do that. 'oo else?' Fleur asked.
They shifted and sat a little closer, so Hermione could rest her head on Fleur's shoulder again.

They both looked out at the ocean and enjoyed the easy silence. In Fleur's opinion, they had made a step in the right direction. And Hermione was happy she'd dodged a bullet. For now.

After a few minutes, Hermione began to shiver.

'You're cold. That won't 'elp your nerves. 'ere take my jumper and let's get back to the 'ouse,' Fleur suggested and was already out of her jumper and handing it to Hermione. The young witch hesitated briefly but took it and pulled it over herself. Instantly, she was wrapped in a familiar smell and warmth and she stopped shivering. Discreetly, she took a deeper sniff and automatically felt at home. Funny, how smells are so intangible, but yet so strong on the memory. The smell of Fleur was almost as soothing to her as her hands.

They made their way back to the house and were surprised to find dinner was ready.

'The men were getting hungry but I didn't let them go to find you and told them that if they wanted to eat, they would have to cook something themselves,' Luna explained.
Fleur and Hermione sat down at the table with the others and everyone was surprised about how delicious the food tasted.

Later, sat on her bed, Hermione was supposed to get ready for her daily change of bandages before bedtime. But she just sat on the edge of her bed and wrapped herself tighter into Fleur's jumper. The smell calmed her down and made her feel safe. She briefly considered stealing the jumper for when they would leave again, so she could bring that sense of safety with her. She realised that that was all Fleur had ever given her. Safety. And a ton of confusion as well but she focused on the first part right now.

'You're not ready?' Fleur asked, ripping Hermione from her thoughts.
Hermione looked up and shook her head, 'I was in my head.'

She started peeling herself out of all the layers of cloth she was wearing, while Fleur prepared the bandages and salves. As Hermione laid down she thought about how at first she had assumed that someone as beautiful as Fleur would judge her mediocre body, but then had noticed Fleur seemed to be extremely focused on only her wounds and had never even given her the briefest of moments in which she might feel judged. So, completely topless as always, she waited for Fleur to redress her wounds and bandage her up again.

The young witch still flinched every time, Fleur touched her ribs.
'I'm sorry, that this is so painful for you. I wish I 'ad the right ingredients for Skele-Gro,' Fleur said, trying to use even less pressure than she had.
'It's ok, Fleur. Really,' Hermione said and carefully touched Fleur's hand, showing her how much pressure she could apply.
'It's only the first moment, then I get used to the pain. I really don't mind if it means the wounds will heal better,' Hermione said, letting go of Fleur's hand again.
'At least the deeper lacerations are finally 'ealing,' Fleur informed her patient.

Fleur finished up and looked at Hermione, her ribs wrapped in bandages and a few wound dressings hiding stab wounds and cuts. They made everything look ten times worse and it reminded Fleur of almost losing Hermione.

'Je vais la tuer,' she muttered under her breath. It always made her blood boil unproportionally to see the wounds Bellatrix Lestrange had inflicted on the young woman. Every evening after redressing Hermione's wounds, Fleur left in a hot fury.

Hermione had put her pyjama top on and removed the bandage on her arm.

'Mudblood,' she said, 'I guess, whichever way this war goes, she's had her way. She's marked me forever.'

Fleur could barely look at the garish, red cuts that spelled out that horrible word. Looking at it made her feel so helpless. This was the one wound she really wanted to heal but she couldn't. It just kept on bleeding. Not much, but just enough to prevent the wound from closing. She wiped away the dried blood before redressing the wound. The longer she took, the more worked up she got.

'Je jure, je vais la tuer,' she muttered again, but this time Hermione had heard her.

'Fleur, don't,' she retorted, 'I don't want you to get all worked up because of this. This is my battle, not yours.'

'Oh, but it is mine, you see. After she did this, I patched you up. I sat 'ere day and night. I worried my best efforts wouldn't be good enough to keep you alive. I prayed to all kinds of gods I don't even believe in. I am 'ere prepared to do almost anything to repair the damage she's done. It is my battle too. So I 'ave a right to such promises.' Fleur fumed.

Hermione was silent for a bit, contemplating Fleur's rage over the attempt on the life of who was basically a stranger. But she couldn't find a reason why Fleur would go off the rails like that merely for her.
But she knew one thing, Fleur needed to calm down.

She found Fleur's eyes and implored her to listen carefully, 'Fleur, you said that you don't want me out there vulnerable and off balance. I don't want you on a battlefield or mission, preoccupied. It's a surefire way to get you killed and I'd never forgive myself if that happened. That would mean having your blood on my hands. I can't go out and fight You-know-who worrying that in your blind rage over Bellatrix you failed to put up a shield charm on time. I have to work through this, to get over it all. Promise me, that you'll work on getting over this too. I want you to live a long and happy life, you know.' Even if it isn't with me. Hermione hated her inner voice sometimes.

Fleur looked Hermione in the eyes for a long time. She knew that Hermione was right, but she didn't know how she could ever not start raging when seeing the consequences of this lunatic's actions. But for Hermione's sake she would try, so she nodded.

'Good,' Hermione said, 'and now get to bed, I can see that you're tired.'

'I've learned that this is code for "You look like shit", and what about the pain po...' Fleur started but was interrupted.

'No, it means that you look like you need sleep. I don't think you could look like shit if you tried. Now go and sleep well. I can manage one night without the salve. Don't argue with me,' Hermione said resolutely before lying down to sleep too.

French translations:

I will kill her.

I promise, I will kill her.