CHAPTER ONE:

The ceiling was a tumult of activity, intricate lines and curves of a master sculptor creating a truly beautiful piece, exactly what the witch's eyes now gazed upon. It sickeningly curved down towards her head though, making her feel more than a bit nauseous so her watering eyes now found themselves closed. With a groan, the girl sat up, an instinctive motion that her body did every morning. This time, it wasn't the wisest of choices. Her stomach lurched at the movement and as her eyes went wide, arms going around her midsection, she quickly rolled to the side and emptied the contents of last night's dinner into a pail which just happened to be there.

It was hell, being there, staring at a hardwood floor, thrown halfway across a bed like a rag doll and retching your guts out. The heat was interminable, rocketing up to what Hermione fervently thought had to be the Sun's temperature. It felt like her body would be consumed by the molten heat, leaving nothing but hot white ash in it's presence.

Cool hands swept past her neck, gathering her bushy brown hair and pulling it back until Hermione's stomach had finished dry heaving. So many gods and goddesses name's flashed across her mind's screen that the witch couldn't count, just thankful for the blessed reprieve that had been granted. Hermione shuddered, arms wrapping tighter around herself as the hands pulled her back to rest against a very supple body.

"Shhhh..."

The voice soothed her, unreasonably so. Her lips parted to tell the figure this, but instead a low groan slipped past as an ice cold washcloth slipped across the back of her neck. Very gingerly, and with the utmost of care, delicate fingers drew the terrycloth material over the nape of her neck before sweeping forwards and washing the front of her throat, then down to the gentle slope of each shoulder. All the witch could do was sit there, suddenly shivering. Moments ago she had been burning up. Now she felt ice cold on the outside, but a different sort of heat burned within. It threatened to consume her and as Hermione's logic failed, so did her mind. Instinctively going on emotions, the girl whimpered and leaned back into the touch only to have those soft hands lay her down in the bed.

"You are ill, Mademoiselle Granger…rest here, for now…"

Not even she understood what was happening. All she knew was that she was as sick as a kneazle and not going anywhere soon. With an almost imperceptible nod, Hermione opened her eyes to gaze upon the figure who's lap her head now rested in. No one, not even Merlin could have predicted the repercussions of shock which echoed throughout Hermione's failing heart, the beat ceasing to exist, time itself suspending the entire universe within this single moment.

The magic was broken by one small uttered word.

"F…Fleur…?"

The French veela nodded, cool hands once again ghosting over her cheeks, causing a flush to rise quickly that Hermione did not at all care for. "You stumbled into my room, cherie. Iz it really to be my fault zat I could not rezist taking care of one of my own?" A faint smile broke Fleur's concerned gaze as her fingertips began to rub soothing circles upon Hermione's temple. The girls reacton of closing her eyes and pressing back into her hands made the smile grow, feeding off of just pleasing the other girl. Throughout her life she had not needed to please anyone; they lived to please her. The simplest joys in life were often denied her because of her charmed bloodline. But why did it warm her heart so, why did it cause her usually reserved smile to blossom towards the witch's happiness…why this girl?

The veela thought it best not to question this. It was not the best time for such thoughts and it would have to be reserved for later that night. The fact that Hermione was rising quickly, and very unsteadily, also helped break her reverie.

She stood shakily, clutching at her chest, looking at the other woman as though she'd been caught red handed in a great crime. Before Fleur could open her dainty mouth, without rhyme or reason, without any word of thanks of any word at all, Hermione had fled from the room, leaving the frantic sound of a door slamming echoing back to the woman's ears.

Fleur didn't know why her heart panicked, why it sped up and felt like someone was methodically squeezing the vice tighter around the aching pain within her chest. All the woman knew was that it had to be smothered, this dull ache, this acute ache located right beneath her left breast, throbbing so horribly familiar. Standing, the witch closed herself off from such thoughts, refusing to believe that the connection had been established but couldn't deny it much longer when the ache stayed lodged, a constant reminder that she had indeed found the one.

MOMENTS LATER OUTSIDE IN A DARK CORRIDOR...

Bursting heart clutched within her trembling hand, a faint looking witch pressed herself against a cold stone staircase. Her frantic breathing slowly calmed itself, but it did nothing to sooth her mind, or the nausea coursing through her fiery veins. For some reason, she couldn't, and would not, stay with Fleur. She didn't like how she'd felt before, the safe feeling of releasing everything hat she was in those arms, and would not do it again. She couldn't allow it again.

Why…?

Because Hermione wanted it far too much, even if she wouldn't admit it.

A/N : Gomen, but my internet is down at the house and school is the only way I can update. I've got almost the entire thing written out by hand, but my WPM by paper is 30ish something and on the computer…it's…90. So it's a big change. Hope you can bear with me as I slowly upload the chapters. -;;; And they're not edited, so I'll go back when I have time and proofread the lil' buggers. Thanks, and remember, reviews feed the hungry! stomach rumbles ;-; F-Feed me?