Chapter One

Soft warm light filtered in through the window overlooking the hospital wing. The small figure of a sleeping student lay unmoving on one of the beds while a woman sat watching quietly besides her.

Madam Pomfrey, who had been flitting back and forth from her office to the student, was now sitting in her office finishing up the report on the attacked student. Fleur had assured the medi-witch she would watch over Hermione as she rested. Poppy had almost protested but the look on the other woman's face had stymied any protests she'd been about to voice. With a sigh, Poppy gave specific instructions for Fleur to let her know the moment her student awoke.

Fleur had agreed. She sat with one hand slipped into one of Hermione's own while the other gently stroked over the girl's forehead. Delicate fingers gingerly pushed aside the bushy brown hair as the woman inspected the blossoming purple mark. Fleur frowned as a small whimper of pain slipped past the girl's lips. Hermione's eyes slowly fluttered open as Fleur leaned closer with a faint smile, giving the cool hand within her own a light squeeze. Supportive. She had to be supportive. Flashes of the war came flooding back and it took several tries to get around the lump in her throat before she was able to push back the memories where they belonged. The here and now was what mattered. "Madamoiselle Granger. I was under the impression that the war had ended. I suppose you did not recieve the memo? Or perhaps you like the fact that I am now taking care of you once again like before."

"Fleur?" Hermione croaked then winced at the dryness of her throat. Before she could think to ask an arm had wrapped itself around her shoulders and she was being helped into a sitting position. The cool rim of a goblet pressed against her lips causing Hermione to glance up at Fleur with a frown. She hadn't even known she was thirsty until she began sipping the cool liquid. It wasn't long until the goblet had been completely drained and Fleur was helping her lay back once more.

Hermione coughed weakly, pushing the delicate hands away in as she settled herself against the fluffed pillows on the bed. "Why exactly are you here? I thought taking care of sick students was Madam Pomfrey's job," Hermione questioned in a raspy voice.

Fleur hadn't changed a bit. Oh, she'd grown a bit older with the war and all that came with it. The eyes remained the same though. They were the same eyes she'd gazed up into, fought, cursed, cried, and eventually clung to as she'd begun healing at Shell Cottage.

This was absolutely the last person on earth she would ever want help from. When Bellatrix had broken into her mind and marked her body during the war, Fleur had been the one to sit quietly by her bedside, not asking prying questions like the others. Questions that caused her to remember all the terrible little kindnesses Bellatrix had bestowed upon her. Fleur had understood that words weren't necessary and continued to watch over her with those eyes. Those piercing silent blue eyes that were a salve for the wounds that no one could see, no one could know ever about, yet somehow Fleur did. The bond that had formed between them afterwards was something that made Hermione distinctly uncomfortable to acknowledge.

Neither witch had the time to discuss what had passed between them with the war in full swing, and so it had gone unaddressed. Afterwards, Hermione had done her admirable best to avoid the french woman. The letters that had arrived over the summer holiday became less and less frequent until the owls stopped coming. No more were delivered. The month or so that she'd spent at the Burrow had required a bit more cunning on her part. The cold shoulder she'd given the french witch had eventually caused the damage she'd been seeking. There was no more effort on Fleur's part to hold more than polite conversation with Hermione after that.

'So why is she sitting here at my bedside?' Hermione thought with a scowl etched firmly upon her face. She glowered up at the other woman causing Fleur to frown. "Really, ma belle. I would have thought you and I were past these silly little games." The veela's frown deepened as Hermione continued to scowl up at her, refusing to answer. "I can see," Fleur responded with a faint tremor in her voice, "that I have thought wrong. Pardon my assumption that you had grown up after the war."

Hermione flushed a deep red and had just opened her mouth to snap back with a scathing reply when Poppy came bustling out of the office. "Professor!" the medi-witch scolded while uncorking a vial of thick purple potion, "I had thought I told you to tell me when Miss Granger awoke."

"Madamoiselle Granger," Fleur replied stiffly as she looked down at Hermione then back towards the nurse, "Has just awoken. I was about to come fetch you, yet here you are, before I can even blink." She rose as the nurse bustled over to Hermione's side and began checking her over. The hands that fluttered over her now were warm and calloused. They were comforting in a clinical sort of way since Madam Pomfrey would take care of her as best as she could. Hermione glanced over towards another set of familiar hands, pale and slender and clenched tight at Fleur's sides, remembering their soft caring touch.

Warm brown eyes darted up to meet ice cold blue ones. The dispassionate look that Fleur cast over Hermione as she lay helpless in the bed made her stomach drop. A slender glass vial was suddenly pressed into one loosely curled hand as Poppy began giving instructions for the medicine. Hermione fixed an uncaring expression firmly upon her face and, never breaking eye contact with the other woman, dutifully tipped the potion back and drained its contents. Instantaneously, pleasurable warmth suffused Hermione's body and began leeching away any and all aches and pains from her wounds.

Fleur quirked one slender eyebrow at how quickly Hermione's scowling face had transformed into one of langorous content. She crossed her arms and gazed down at the witch below her for several moments before turning towards Madame Pomfrey and asking, "What exactly is it that you have given her?"

Poppy gingerly extracted the vial from Hermione's hand and pocketed it. The older woman turned around and made a 'shush'ing gesture at the other woman. Fleur's mouth shut so fast that her teeth clicked together. The nurse then proceeded to shoo Fleur towards the exit of the Hospital Wing with the full intent of seeing the professor off for the night.

The french witch scowled at this and quickly turned on her heel, making her way back towards the entrance. To dismiss her like a mere child was too great an insult for her pride to ignore. The click-click-click of her high heels echoed in the mostly empty hospital wing as the medi-witch followed in her wake.

Fleur glanced to the side and saw the partways open door to Poppy's office. She hesitated before the exit of the hospital wing before detouring towards the other room. Without asking, Fleur stepped over the threshold of the small office and settled herself down on a seat. The medi-witch gave a minor sigh of irritation as she stepped in after Fleur and closed the door behind her. She was used to dealing with agitated students, worried parents, and even injured magical creatures at times. The professors had never given her problems before. From the expression on Fleur Delacour's face at that moment, it seemed as though Poppy Pomfrey would have to amend that opinion.

"Really, Professor Delacour," Poppy sighed, hands on hips, staring down at the silent fuming woman before her, "She will be perfectly alright since-"

"I do not appreciate being put off, Madam Pomfrey," Fleur cut in with an angry snap to her thickly accented words. "When I ask about the welfare of one of my students, I expect a truthful answer, not to be shoo'ed away like an annoying insect. I am not a child."

Poppy merely continued to give Fleur a mildly annoyed look as she continued on with her previous statement, "-I have just given Miss Granger a potion to ease the pain of her injuries. She will experience a mildly euphoric sensation and dreamless sleep. There are no other ill side effects to this potion except for the exceedingly rare reaction of weightlessness. I assure you I have her medical care under control, Professor."

Fleur had the good grace to color slightly at having cut off Poppy in mid-sentence and the reprimand barely hidden within the older woman's words. The french witch ducked her head and pinched the bridge of her nose in silent frustration. After a few moments had passed she replied in a tired voice, "Poppy, I am sorry. I do not know why my temper is so worn. You must know that I took care of the girl after her ... experience ... during the war." The emphasis on those last few words are bitter and said with obvious disgust on Fleur's part. "And I fear my protective nature from that time has not faded."

Madam Pomfrey's rigid stance eased somewhat as the nurse gazed down at the woman before her. There was something not quite right about the defeated image that Fleur cast when before she'd been furiously defending the girl lying outside in one of her beds. "Well, I'd imagine finding Miss Granger in the state you found her in was not exactly easy." She paused for a beat and then stated, "You've a headache? Sensitive to light?" She tapped her foot to show her impatience at Fleur's reluctance to speak until the woman hesitantly nodded. "Oui. A slight headache. Light seems to aggravate it."

Poppy tutted as she strode over to the far wall and began tracing one thin fingertip along the shelves. Containers of all shapes and sizes lined the wooden shelves. Everything from colorful tablets, thick syrupy potions, and ominously swirling vapors were bottled up. "Light sensitivity will increase your headaches until nausousness follows. You won't sleep well tonight either if you stay as tightly wound as you are." Poppy nodded vaguely as she picked up a wide mouth bowl and withdrew a colorful dried sprig of flowers. The cluster of the petite flowers were a brilliant pale blue color and smelled faintly of eucalyptus.

Fleur opened her mouth to protest but the medi-witch was having none of it. One of the sweet smelling flowers was quickly popped into the professors mouth. The french witch's mouth clicked shut and only Poppy's gentle fingers beneath her chin kept the flower from being spat out. "Chew one flower bud to do away with the headaches, two if nauseousness accompanies it, and three if you need to sleep. I'd recommend taking three now before it gets much worse. If you still have the headache tomorrow, take two straight away in the morning, then if it's still bothering you after classes have dismissed, come see me." The nurse quirked one narrow brow before adding, "Swallow, Professor Delacour."

Fleur felt as though she were a little girl again sitting in her mother's kitchen. Grudgingly, the witch did as instructed, chewing a few times befire swallowing. She watched as Poppy observed her with a clinical interest and then stuck her tongue out. "There. Happy? I've taken your medicine."

"Now if only I you would take it when needed," the medi-witch retorted with a slight shake of her head. "Remember what my instructions." Fleur nodded and stood albeit a bit shakily. It caused the frown on Poppy's face to deepen as she watched the professor make her way from the office. "Professor Delacour?"

Fleur turned around, her expression drawn, body held wearily upright. "Yes, Madam Pomfrey?"

The nurse's frown faded and was replaced with a reluctant smile. "Miss Granger will no doubt need breakfast sent up from the Great Hall for her tomorrow. I would hate to bother her friends with the task when they've got classes first thing in the morning. If you wouldn't mind ...?"

The french witch blinked in surprise as she slowly replied, "Oui. I will be here first thing tomorrow morning." She inclined her head as a sheet of white blonde hair fell over her face. "If that is all, I will not take any more of your time tonight. Bonsoir, chère."

Madam Pomfrey watched as Fleur slipped out of her office and listened to the fading click of high heeled shoes leaving the hospital wing. She stood there with crossed arms and stared at the closed door. Something was bothering her about this whole situation. Something that didn't seem quite right with the attack or the professor's reaction.

The older woman circled her desk and settled down in the comfortable worn chair behind it. She paused then reached inside one drawer and withdrew a large heavy book before dropping it to the desk. Dust erupted into the air resulting in several squeaky sneezes. Poppy withdrew a silk handkerchief and dabbed delicately at her nose before flipping through it's heavily inked pages. "Now, what was that chapter? Magical maladies and respective cures for magical creatures. Veela should be here somewhere ..."

Poppy's voice trailed off as her eyes fell upon the paragraph she'd been looking for. The information it held was definitely not something she'd been searching for though. "Oh...my, my, my." The medi-witch covered her mouth with one hand and continued reading. "Professor Delacour, I sincerely hope the symptoms are just a false alarm because this is the one thing that I'm not qualified to treat. No one is."

The light underneath Poppy Pomfrey's door did not fade into darkness until the sun began to rise on a new day at Hogwarts.