DEFYING GRAVITY
FD/HG
A/N: Thanks goes to all those who took their time to read and review, and to those who of you who are lurking in the shadows, thanks for the favorites and alerts.
Sorry for the short chapter, I fully intended to include Beedle's Tale of the Maiden and the Moon here, but for some reason I can't get it right, I have like seven different version that starts and ends the same way, but the middle part gets all confusing, so I guess I'll just include it in later chapters, if it works itself in. (T_T) I haven't done a lot of editing on this one, I know, it's lazy and sorry it took awhile to update, and yeah the first part is slow, I had a hard time with the transition from the previous chapter to this one, one of the reasons why it took so long. If you have any ideas or suggestions to improve this chapter, let me know, I would gladly edit it, but still I hope you like this one, however short it may be. (^_^)
Read it. Praise it. Flame it. Burn it.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything, except for the plot (^_^) because if I did, Fleur and Hermione will end up with a happily ever after.
Five
It seemed that Hermione found herself in another one of her falling dreams, the same dream she had since she was fourteen, the dream in which she always wakes up just before hitting the ground. Even though she's had this dream, countless of times already, she always hated the sensation of falling, groping wildly in the air for the support or anchor that will never come, and the heart-stopping moment as she rushed below, which always leaves her gasping for air upon waking up. But something felt oddly wrong with this dream, it was taking her a long time to fall, in her dreams she always had her eyes closed, but this time she opened them, trying to comprehend the surreal quality of this dream. It was endlessly dark, yet she could hear the rushing of the wind in her ears, the sting of it on her face, making her eyes water. She tried peering at the inky blackness below, trying to make out, what kind of ground would break her fall, but that's useless isn't it? She always wakes up, just before crashing, always.
And if you don't wake up, what will you do?
"I always wake up," she answered. Not thinking it weird, that someone or something was with her, after all this was a dream, right?
But, what if you don't? The voice insisted.
For some reason, Hermione was annoyed. This was her dream, she can control what happens in her dreams and she will wake up. But nevertheless, she answered the annoying voice. "Then I'll crash and wake up."
If you fall, you die, you will never wake up.
Hermione against her better notions should have ignored the voice, but it was something with the way, the voice said those words, made her falter. There was certainty in that voice, what if she never wakes up, Hermione all too suddenly felt her mortality like she had never before, even when she was awake, and living in the dangerous life that comes with her job in the Ministry. "I don't want to die," she said in a helpless voice, cracking as tears threatened to spill from her eyes.
None of that now, what you need to do is to fly, so you won't fall.
"I can't fly, I don't have wings."
Yes you do, like this. The voice answered as a form was materializing out of thin air. Hermione would have screamed, if at that moment her vocal chords were still human, instead a horrible screech sounded out.
"What are you?" She cawed out, or that is what she meant to say.
I think you know.
Even before Hermione could form out a reply, talons as sharp as razors, began clawing her face, grasping her shoulders forcing her to fall faster than she was falling now.
"I don't want to die..."
Hermione bolted upright in her bed, gasping for breath. She was clutching her sheets, like it was some sort of lifeline, her eyes unseeing in the darkness, it was eerily quiet, as if some sort of Silencing Charm had been cast about the entire room she was in. Where am I? She thought. She surveyed the room around her, her breathing, eventually returning to normal, as she saw familiar yet strange objects in the room as her eyes grew accustomed to the darkness. She slowly turned her head to the door and then glared at it, thinking that somebody must be awfully rude to be pounding at her door mercilessly at this time of night, until she realized that the pounding was in her head. Her grip slackened on the sheets and she slumped forward, cradling her throbbing head in one of her hands. Hermione grimaced to herself, trying to recall the events of that night, only to find she was coming up blank. What happened? How did I lose consciousness?
Hermione stayed like that for a few more minutes, until finally deciding that there was no way she would be able to go back to sleep, not because it would be uncomfortable with her head all pounding like that, but because of that dream or more like nightmare which was waiting for her the moment she closes her eyes. Something must have happened to trigger that nightmare, that part she was certain, but as to what she has no idea, it was irksome, that for all her higher brain functions, they were all useless at the moment, to even form a coherent series of events. Hermione carefully swung her feet at the side of her bed, trying to minimize any sudden movements, lest she wanted to throw up, right then and there. Hangover, she thought ruefully. I had too much to drink, if you call one bottle of vodka too much. Then again, George did laced the drink with an experimental potion, somehow even that excuse sounded flimsy to her.
Hermione was staring long and hard at the door. Somehow, she knew she needed to get out, else she finds herself inside that nightmare again. As she stared, bits and pieces of the events that night were coming back to her. She arrived home late, and was unwittingly dragged into a drinking party, for how else could she have drank a full bottle of vodka. She was talking with George, for how else could she have remembered that George laced their drinks. There was the music of course and then after that, after that.. still nothing. Hermione sighed, all this thinking was not making her headache any better, hence she decided a cold shower might help. It always does anyway, it always seems to dull whatever aches and pains her body experiences inside and out.
A few moments later, Hermione was stepping out of the bathroom, her pounding head was now reduced to a tolerable level of pain. She paused and shivered in the hallway before darting quickly back into her room. She stopped, as she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, her hair still tied up in a bun, since she didn't want it get wet. It was her sickly pallor, that made her stop, it was one of those days again, and in the back of her mind, her rational thoughts were forcing her to acknowledge that Fleur had veela'd out, for how else could she explain the immediate changes of her physical well-being.
"What are you doing to me, Fleur?" she asked her reflection. She made another involuntary shiver, and finally proceeded to her wardrobe where Hermione dressed herself in her favorite boxers and a plain white tee. She should have gone to bed, but then again, the feeling of dread was coming back to her and she really didn't want to fall asleep, not with that horrible creature from her dream still lingering in her mind.
She had every intention of going down towards the kitchen, to see if they still had some Sleeping Potion around, when she found herself after descending the flight of stairs, turning a corner and was now facing Fleur's door. What am I doing here? She thought, perplexed that she would even be standing outside Fleur's bedroom. She gave herself a mental shake before wheeling around, only to find herself face to face with Fleur.
"Hermione?"
Two things Hermione noticed crossed Fleur's features before returning to its normal indifferent expression, or it could be that the dim lighting in the hallway was playing tricks on her eyesight coupled with the dull throbbing of her head. One was that a look of relief flooded the French woman's countenance, which was immediately followed by concern both of which has now completely disappeared. "Oh right," Hermione shifted uncomfortably, feeling embarrassed that she was caught lurking outside Fleur's bedroom. "I was wondering if you have by any chance a uhmm, Sleeping Potion," she turned her face sideways, trying to look at anything and everything but Fleur.
"Non, Je suis désolé."
"That's alright, I'll see if there's still some in the kitchen," Hermione answered, while brushing past Fleur to get to the next flight of stairs down. Hermione knew she swayed and wobbled because the next thing she noticed was Fleur's arm wrapped around her waist, steadying her. Hermione felt the heat creeping up her cheeks, her embarrassment increasing ten-fold.
"Hermione, you need to lie down," Fleur said softly.
"I know, just as soon as I take a Sleeping Potion."
"I don't think we still have some left," Fleur paused, and then moved away from Hermione, but instead of letting go, the older woman took hold of her hand and pulled Hermione towards her bedroom. "Go inside and wait for me," Fleur said after opening her door, "I'll make you some tea."
Hermione should have said no, but before she can do so, Fleur was already disappearing down the flight of stairs. On another day, Hermione would have taken her time and observed Fleur's room, maybe even opened some drawers and rummage through Fleur's stuff, not a healthy habit mind you, but more like out of curiosity. But not tonight, instead she made her way on Fleur's unkempt bed, and drew up her knees close to her chest and wrapping her arms around it, she propped her head on top of her knees, fighting the urge to fall asleep, refusing to let that creature in her dream win over her. It's childish really, to be afraid of a dream, but the truth is, Hermione was scared. If you fall, you die, you will never wake up. It seemed that the voice of the creature was still taunting her, in her sleep deprived condition. It wasn't exactly a Sleeping Potion that she wanted, more like the dreamless state that comes with it, once you take a high enough dosage.
Fleur found Hermione in that position upon returning a few minutes later, holding a cup of steaming tea in her hand. She placed the cup on her bedside table and then sat down next to Hermione placing a gentle hand on the younger witch's shoulder.
Hermione's head shot up quickly upon feeling the contact on her shoulder, afraid that she had fallen asleep while waiting for Fleur and that the creature was once again clawing at her with its sharp talons, it was quickly followed by a grimaced of pain. "Fleur, sorry, I was lost in thought."
"I didn't mean to startle you."
"I should probably head back up, I'm sorry to trouble you. I'm actually feeling a lot better now."
Fleur frowned at that. Hermione could almost tell what Fleur was thinking, didn't always Fleur said, that Hermione can't lie to her. She knew that Fleur felt her fear, when the older woman touched her. Hermione knew for certain, because of the tell-tale signs that was evident in Fleur's eyes. "Honestly, Hermione," Fleur answered, a trace of annoyance on her voice.
"Right, sorry," Hermione murmured and before she lost her nerve, she jumped up from Fleur's bed and raced her way back upstairs to her room. She immediately regretted her rash actions, as she was digging her nails on her door frame for support, it was all she could do, to not pass out again. "I'm being stupid," she said to herself.
"Oui, you are," a voice answered behind her. A hand was placed on top of her own coaxing her fingers to relax her grip, which Hermione eventually did.
"I'm fine, I can manage on my own."
She only heard a soft tut tutting reply, admonishing her gently. Until Hermione finally gave up and then let Fleur led her slowly back to her bed. If Hermione was protesting, it was definitely falling on deaf ears, as Fleur tucked her in.
"Go to sleep, cheri, we can talk in the morning if you want."
If truth be told, Hermione thought it strangely comforting for Fleur to be doing this. No, it wasn't comforting, more like, safe. With Fleur she feels safe and isn't it what the older witch had always seem to done so, for so long. Keeping her safe and unharmed, getting annoyed if Hermione was being stupid and getting herself unnecessarily hurt. She closed her eyes, for once her terror of the night disappearing quickly only to find that as soon as Fleur's presence began to leave her, that horrible creature would soon take her over.
It was reflex if she was to be asked, but Hermione grabbed Fleur's hand, before the older witch could turn to go. She opened her eyes sleepily, raising her covers, covering her mouth and said, "Don't leave."
Fleur hesitated. There was indecision written all over her face. She was sure that this was not a good idea, but seeing Hermione like this, for once letting her in, instead of pushing her away, was more welcome than it ought to be. She would regret this decision probably, but not tonight. She was about to sit down next to the younger witch, when Hermione pulled her blanket up, inviting Fleur to lay beside her. Fleur gave another defeated sigh, and then climbed in next to Hermione, as soon as she settled, Fleur felt Hermione curling up next to her.
"You were sad, twice now," Hermione murmured sleepily. "I don't know why, but it seems that I made you sad, I'm really, really sorry Fleur."
"No, it's not your fault. It will never be your fault." Fleur swallowed a lump in her throat. "You should sleep."
"You won't leave?"
"I'll stay as long as you want me to."
Hermione nodded, she felt Fleur's lips on her forehead and promptly fell into a dreamless sleep.
xxxXXXxxx
Three days, twenty two hours and eighty minutes, no make that eighty six minutes, Hermione corrected after glancing quickly at her watch. No, it's not that she was counting the time passing, even though that's how it may seem like, but that's not it. Those days, were the days that she had successfully managed to avoid Fleur, correct that, not totally avoided but close to it. Since, Hermione made it a point that every time she was in the same room as Fleur, that there would be say, another department worker or Bill, Harry and Ron between them. And if that's not the case, she would get out as fast as she can without seeming to be rude, because the last thing that Hermione wanted was to be alone with Fleur. The last time Hermione was alone with Fleur, was a memory she care not to relieved. It was mortifying enough as it is, she was way too clingy even for her tastes and it annoys her to no end, that she eventually broke down and showed a moment of weakness and all because of a silly nightmare. But it's not silly is it? Her rational mind seemed to answer. Why else would you be out here, getting yourself chilled to the bone, instead of sleeping as you should be. Hermione shook her head, unable to deny that what her brain was telling her was true.
Hermione let a shiver passed through her. It was a quiet night, except for the hooting of an owl from one of the trees that was surrounding the pond near the Burrow. Hermione could have opted to stay at the kitchen where it was warm and brightly lit after finishing her task, but thought against it, it was a cool night anyway and the moon was full, so even though she wasn't faring any better since awaking from her nightmare, she decided to take a moonlit stroll. Hermione eventually ended up by the huge birch tree overlooking the pond, where she always settles herself whenever she would watch Harry and the Weasleys play Quidditch, carrying a short stack of parchment with her. Hermione conjured a blue ball of fire, one which she was famous for and hovered it near her, before settling by the clear patch of ground by the tree roots and leaning her back against the trunk.
Hermione drew her knees close to her chest, a position which she was doing more and more often while lost in her thoughts. All in all, Hermione has to admit that she was starting to have a bad week. The only good thing that happened this past three days was the fact, that every time she awoke from her nightmares, it was the only time she could fully concentrate on translating Beedle's manuscript. It actually helps with her nightmares, because translating requires her full mental faculties, leaving no room for anything else. But tonight, she was already done with the transcription. She let out a long exhale, her breath clouding up before her. Hermione stretched out her wand hand and pointed to the blue ball of flame hovering above her head, pulling it closer to her.
Hermione ran her hands absently along the leaves of the small stack of parchment which she placed right next to her, a rock on top of it, so that the wind won't scatter the papers everywhere. She was staring up at the full moon before her, it was poetic really, how it shone brightly on the surface of the still pond before her, but sadly lost on Hermione, since her mind was wandering aimlessly, but always going back to the manuscript beside her. It was troubling her, and Hermione was done over thinking things. How she wishes that she could just go back to a time that was simple. Wishes, huh? Wishes by itself is overly simple enough, but to acquire an actual wish, that was another matter entirely. Hermione knew that it had been staring her in the face for sometime now, it was what Fleur wanted wasn't it? To obtain a wish, but how was she, Hermione would be able to do that for Fleur, to help the older witch, it seemed like all the puzzle pieces were already laid before her, but it's just that she wasn't getting the entire picture. And to top it all off, she and Fleur were the biggest pieces of the puzzle, but as to how they fit together, Hermione knew, but to accept it as it is, is another thing. Merlin knows, how she had thought endlessly about the answer to Fleur's question, Have you ever considered the idea, that you could mean more to me than just a friend? In truth, Hermione had considered the idea, a couple of ideas in fact, but was she ready? The answer was a resounding no, that was for sure, for now, but what about tomorrow? She needed Fleur, it was a fact, however she tries to get around it, but as to what extent, Hermione doesn't really want to accept it. She wasn't in denial, really, but how else could she preserve what little simplicity she was luxurious to have?
Another forlorn sigh, Hermione still staring at the moon. Maybe if she stares long enough, even glare at it, the answers to all the hundred different version of the same question would materialize before her. It seemed that the moon, was taunting her, waiting for her to make her move and follow through. "That's just bloody stupid," she murmured. She hugged herself even tighter, forcing herself to keep warm, her eyes glossing over at the still pond before her.
"I see you," a voice said softly from behind.
Typical, Hermione thought, sooner or later, this was bound to happen, but why do I get a feeling of déjà vu?. This has happened before, only that the circumstances were different, it was simpler then, Hermione needed a friend and it was Fleur who was there for her, but now, now.. Hermione has no idea. "Hey, you," Hermione answered.
Fleur moved right next to Hermione and sat down next to the younger witch, before Hermione could have reacted or said anything, a shawl was being draped over her shoulders. She gave a grateful sigh as warmth flooded her shoulders. Hermione made a side glanced at Fleur, expecting the older woman to chide her for being careless or going out without wearing anything to keep her warm, but was thankful when the older woman didn't say anything of the kind. Instead, Hermione saw Fleur cradling the small stack of parchment that the younger witch brought with her, Hermione's translation of Beedle's tale on her lap.
"It's cold out here, you should be inside."
"I know," Hermione made a simple gesture towards the moon, "but the moon was calling me, I couldn't resist."
If Fleur thought that Hermione had gone mental, she didn't show it. Instead, the older woman redirected her gaze on the moon and then back on the parchment on her lap. "The Tale of the Maiden and the Moon," Fleur read.
"Beedle's unpublished story, I finished translating it, I know, you've read it already, but would you mind reading it to me?"
Fleur just looked at her curiously.
"Sometimes, it helps me figure out things, when I hear the same thing from someone else." In truth, Hermione had already committed the story in her memory, it was just probably an excuse to get any uncomfortable silence away from them which was bound to happen any time soon. Hermione knew, that if she had gone on long enough with her wandering thoughts, Fleur would definitely sense those wave of emotions coming off of her, therefore affecting the older witch. And Hermione has enough to deal with as of the moment, without throwing any of Fleur's veela tendencies into the mix.
If Hermione thought, that Fleur was going to say no, she was mistaken, Hermione thought that the older woman would force her to go back inside and acquiesce her request once in the warmth of the kitchen, but instead, "Alright, would you move the light nearer to me?"
Hermione once again stretched out her wand hand, and moved the flaming blue ball somewhere between them just a little behind Hermione's right shoulder and Fleur's left. As soon as she had done so, Fleur began reading in her soft contra alto melodious tones.
"In all my travels in search of stories, this is one story that is extremely magical in nature unlike any I have heard told before. A kind of magic, that has been known, but to understand it will take a hundred lifetimes to do so, a powerful kind of magic, that to stand before it, is comparable to an ant standing beside an elephant. Like most of my stories, that ends in a happy note, this story, well it doesn't really end or maybe it does. I leave you, my readers, to decide. This is for you my, Naia. Forever yours, Beedle."
"Naia, the same name from my memory," Hermione murmured when Fleur finished reading the dedication. Hermione shifted her gaze, only to find Fleur looking at her, Hermione made a soft sigh and then gestured for Fleur to continue.
"Like all fairy tales, this starts with a once upon a time. Once upon a time, there was a maiden who was loved by the moon." Hermione closed her eyes, listening to the sound of Fleur's voice as she tells the story of the beautiful maiden who was cursed, because she could never return the affection of a powerful dark wizard who had courted her for years. How the maiden was forced to love the wizard and eventually ended with the wizard killing the maiden. How the moon took pity on the maiden and therefore granting the maiden one wish. A wish, that would forever change the direction of Fate's Wheels towards a veela's love. How the maiden resurfaced from the spring in which she had almost drowned and how the maiden had lived a long life after that.
Hermione opened her eyes, sensing that the older woman's gaze was upon her. The air by the pond had grown cooler, the last half an hour that they had been there. "It's the story of the first veela, isn't it?" Hermione asked as soon as Fleur finished reading the last paragraph of Hermione's translation of the tale.
"Oui, but I—," Fleur trailed off.
"You were wondering how Beedle could have known of it, when the true veela history is being passed, from generation to generation orally."
Fleur noted that Hermione hadn't asked a question, but what the younger witch had said was true, didn't she said so herself, on another night like this one, three summers ago? "Oui, Beedle wasn't a veela, and it is impossible for him to even have a trace of veela blood in him, not unless you were born from a fifteenth generation of a veela family, that's when all traces of veela blood begin to die out."
"Oh, that's very interesting to know," Hermione's insatiable thirst for knowledge perked up when she heard of this.
"No male child is born with a veela blood and when a male child is born, the veela would know that that her blood has died out in that generation," Fleur added.
"Hmmm," Hermione answered, "can you not think of any other reason on how Beedle could have known of it?"
"There is only one other reason I can think of," Fleur said, silently agreeing with the younger witch.
"And it may surprise you, that if indeed we are thinking of the same reason, that we would be right."
"How so?"
Hermione pointed at the manuscript which Fleur was still holding. "There were two parts to the story, the first one, was the one you had just read to me and the other was the unfinished one." Hermione saw Fleur, removing the top page of the stack of parchment on her lap, and placing it at the bottom of the pile. Her eyes darting quickly, on the words that Hermione had translated. "No, when I think about it, the second story is finished, it's just that we are missing the beginning of the second story. You probably didn't notice it the time, since the dedication was written after the first story. Would you mind continuing?"
"Non, not at all," Fleur answered. She took a breath and began reading again.
"'How does this end?' The veela asked the dying wizard.
"'Would that I would tell you, if I knew.'
"'Surely my love, you must know of something, of anything, you have travelled far and wide. You have seen and heard things that I do not know of, please—' Her beautiful face was etched with so much desperation and anguish that the wizard's heart was breaking along with this beautiful creature which was his to call his own.
"'Perhaps, a wish?'
"'Wishes comes at a price that is terrible to pay, if I had known it will change the Wheels of Fate, I would not have wished for this life.'
"'If you hadn't, then I would have never known you.'
"'And I, you.'" Fleur finished, she was frowning at the page before her. "So, the dedication from before was written for this second story."
"Yes," Hermione said. "So, what do you think, Fleur? How did it end? Did the wizard and the veela got their wish?"
"I think you know the answer to your question, Hermione."
"Yes, but I want to know yours."
"Same as yours, I think."
"And that is?"
"No, I don't think they got their wish, because if they did, the story would not have been finished that way, and if they indeed had their wish, the story would maybe even tell us how to acquire one."
Hermione shook her head while glancing at Fleur, Hermione could see the questioning look on the older woman's face. "I think they got their wish, and the first story did tell us how to acquire one."
"If so, then that would mean that the wizard in the second story should have lived."
"No, he still died, Beedle died before he or Naia could have made the wish. Or if I think about it another way, Beedle died, without making a wish even if they had a wish to make. And on that note, this is why, I think the story is complete, he did intend for his readers to form their own conclusion. It's always like that with his tales. Or if you want, the next thing to do is to find the missing pages, if one is having a hard time to form a conclusion of his own."
"Then all this effort is for nothing."
"Nothing? How can you say that?"
"I am not satisfied with this ending at all. Its too ridiculous to be even called an ending, sure Beedle stumbled upon the story of the first veela, but the way he wrote it would make a veela wonder if the veela in this story is even Naia."
"It is Naia, he mentioned her name in his dedication. You're clearly upset, why?"
"I refuse to believe that Naia just gave up on him, that she let him die just like that."
"She didn't let him die just like that, she let him go. There's a difference. I think Beedle accepted his fate gladly."
"And how can you accept death that gladly? They didn't even struggle and that is just too hard to accept."
"They did struggle, until Beedle's last breath. To love and be loved like that, you can't ask for anything more."
"What about life Hermione? Is life so little to you, that you would even accept it just as it is."
"It's not, but Fleur don't you see, how can you save someone who can't be saved? Even if you struggle, but in the end you would lose, how can you possibly do that?"
"You would never understand."
"Maybe I never will, because you wouldn't even try to let me understand. It's exhausting, Fleur. It's exhausting to second guess everything that comes with you. I can only second guess so much."
"Then I beg you Hermione, don't."
"I'm often told, that when it comes to myself I am always oblivious, but not right now, when my whole being is screaming at me to accept what I don't want to feel."
"And what is it that you don't want to feel?"
"That I know that you are drawn to me as much as I am drawn to you. That the stronger I resist it, the deeper I need to be right next to you and the harder I fight it, the faster I fall. I just want you to be honest with me, I know there is something that you want to say to me, but for the life of me I can't figure out why you won't."
"Because it's better if you don't know."
Hermione stood up and as soon as she had done so, a rush of vertigo overflowed her, it was predictable really that as soon as she felt herself swaying, Fleur was immediately at her side steadying her. As much as Hermione would have relished that needed contact with the older witch, the brunette pushed the blond away, anger clearly evident on her brown eyes. She wheeled around forcing herself to face the older witch who was looking at the grassy ground beneath their feet.
"And if I tell you, I love you, would that change your mind?" Hermione asked acid dripping from her tones.
Fleur looked up, surprise that Hermione even said those words, even if Fleur noted the way Hermione said I love you, it didn't stop Fleur from daring to hope that maybe something can still be done, even though, everything in her was telling the younger witch to stop herself. Nothing good, will ever come out of it, nothing good always comes from when a mate of a veela, returns her affections. It always was and always will be a tragedy.
"No," Fleur finally answered. "It is better this way, so just leave it alone, Hermione, please."
"You don't know how much I want to, because contrary to what you think, I understand perfectly. I know and feel for a fact that this is hurting you more than it is hurting me. And do you know what part I hate the most, is that every time I can finally understand you, you pull away. This is like a game to you, isn't it? A game that you alone knows all the rules."
"You have no idea what you're saying."
"Really, if I don't, so why am I the only one whose being honest right now?"
"Because I don't want you to go there. I can't do it like this, and I want it to stop, I want both of us to stop. I don't want you to fall anymore than you have to, so please—"
"Why the bloody hell not?"
"Because I can't—"
"Cant—? Won't—? Don't—? Well, what is it Fleur? Make up your bloody mind! Everything that you had shown me, is bloody way too different from everything that you're saying now! If you have any feelings for me at all, if you even love me, just say it, because—"
"It's because I cannot love you! That's why I never want you to—"
"Then I dare you to love me!" Hermione answered back almost as quickly, she didn't wait for Fleur to say anything, it's because Hermione ran away, before Fleur could see the tears streaming down her face. How had a perfectly quiet evening by the pond ended up like this?