It was like standing on one foot at the edge of a thousand foot precipice. She was teetering. Clutching tightly to her throbbing chest, Hermione sputtered, her kneecaps pressed hard against the wooden floor. The hazy smoke that had mere moments before flooded her entire body, dissipated into the air, and Hermione sucked in a breath, deep into her lungs. Bewilderment consumed her clouded mind that was now returning to clarity. Hands rose to touch the features of her face, and a small wave of relief washed over her that she had regained control of her body. Behind her, Harry scrambled to his feet and rushed to the girl's side, lightly rubbing her back seemingly unsure of what words to offer. He cautiously called her name, but she ignored him. Inside, her diaphragm was quivering in the throes of the most intense anxiety she had ever experienced.

"'M-m-mione…is it you?" Harry gently probed with a slight shaking of her shoulders.

"Yes...I'm...me." Weakly, she swatted him away. The ring lay still on the ground, and still a slow pulsating red glow radiated from it. It was beginning to fade. She did not wish to touch the object, and recoiled from the sight of it.

Bracing herself on the kneeling Harry, she levered herself onto unsteady feet, and began to hobble toward the cellar doors. The Order, assisted by the remaining Aurors apparently completed their sweep of the mansion, and so began the long process of corralling the remaining Death Eaters. However none dared to venture near the corpse of Tom Riddle Jr., that laid upon the ground like a marble statue someone had carelessly knocked over. Kara and Tonks sat sobbing a short distance from her, both being comforted by their respective lovers, but the brunette continued past them, the sounds of their sadness completely muted in her ears. Though she had been temporarily possessed by the spirit of a long dead man, she was now full of something entirely different.

Numbness.

Weakness.

Despair.

Uncertainty.

She was filled with a sense of terrible foreboding as she drew nearer to the cellar door, quietly swinging on it's hinges. Harry followed a few steps behind, and grasped within his arms was a small painting of a cottage on the shore line, Helen within it. The young painted woman stifled tears of her own.

The faint light from the lamps that lined the cinderblock walls of the cellar flickered with the slight gust of humid air from the open door. At once the dank smell of blood and sweat assaulted her nose, and mentally Hermione steeled herself for what she knew was about to happen. Slowly Hermione and Harry descended the stairs, and Harry closed the cellar door behind them with a gentle click. Never before had Hermione's heart beat so much, the pulse of the fragile organ nearly explosive in its strength. As they neared the landing Hermione heard the faint sounds of someone wheezing off in the distance. Harry moved behind her, nearly tripping over the bloodied body of Peter Pettigrew, slackened against the wall. The body was covered with claw and bite marks. He was dead.

"Someone got their comeuppance…" Harry remarked quietly, but Hermione simply ignored him, still taking calculated steps toward the sounds.

"Oh how dreadful…Hermione, darling, come speak to me for a moment…please." The portrait called to the brunette, who whipped around at the sound. "Harry would you be so kind to set me against the wall?" Hermione could only muster a forlorn look, but the Grecian woman simply shook her head. "Just afford me a mere moment please."

Harry propped the frame on top of a nearby wine cask that was set against the wall. Retreating back into the shadows of the stairwell, Harry slipped silently back upstairs through the open door. The cells were still bathed in darkness, and the pull to go toward the far cages was magnetic. And this yen she was experiencing was tempered by the faint sounds of whimpering in the distance.

"Hermione…look at me please…" Helen pleaded, her weakened voice barely garnering the brunette's attention. "No matter what is about to happen little one, understand that you are loved. You are different than Tom. He has never known love, nor had he ever the capacity to love. That thing...that tried to take you, hasn't the capacity to love. Many terrible things have all happened in rapid succession for you, and your confusion is justified. But all that I ask when you come to the next crossroads, that inevitably lie ahead...you'll remember that I'll always love you." At that instant Harry returned from the upper floor, shuffling quickly down the steps. One of his hands was balled into a fist at his side, and he quickly approached Helen and Hermione before extending his arm.

Clutched in his outstretched fist was the ring, and with great trepidation Hermione took it in her own, placed gently into her palm by Harry. Helen's eyes followed the small glittering object as Hermione held it as though it were forged of lead. The fingers of Harry's right hand closed around Hermione's slender wrist while his left, lightly closed her unfurled fingers around the ring. The metal felt as cold as ice.

The portrait watched the silent exchange with tears in her eyes. "I hope that you'll do the right thing my dear."

"I trust you 'Mione." Harry said with his lopsided grin, his hair an asymmetrical sooty mess. "And…well…I'm here for you…no matter what."

She turned to make her way down the dimly lit corridor, the whimpers growing louder. Moving deeper into the cellar, the air seemed to grow damp, until she could suddenly hear the slapping noise of her feet landing in a pool of liquid. Instinctively her gaze fell to the floor; blood. A bread crumb trail of crimson droplets and small puddles guided her toward the slightly ajar cell door at the far end of the cellar hallway. The flourishing heart beats in her chest seemed to echo in her ears when she neared the edge of the cell.

Her hand reached out to brace against the cool stone wall of the cell doorframe as her neck craned forward to peer through the open entry.

There was hardly any light. Two figures were huddled together around a sprawled body, each of them with arms clutched tightly around the other. Both were weeping, sounding as though they were long out of breath from sobbing moments ago.

Both of the kneeling figures were blonde.

Hermione's legs rushed forward of their own accord. At the sounds of the brunette's shoes scraping along the floor Fleur whipped around, and her tear burned face erupted into an enormous beaming smile. Within her, Hermione's heart swelled with joy.

Hermione collided into the French woman, her desperate arms claiming her lover, crushing her small frame against her chest. Fleur responded in kind, and her lips found Hermione's in a desperate kiss. It was ferocious. It was hungry. But above all it was relieving. Fleur's hands came to rest upon Hermione's hips, and she tugged the girl even closer. They melted into one another for an ephemeral eternity. Hermione felt herself growing intoxicated over the taste of her lover's rapacious mouth. She was delirious with elation. Fleur was alive. As they pulled apart for air, neither said a word, but both were smiling wide amidst the blood, sweat and tears that covered their bodies. Their chests quaked with rapid heaving breaths.

Fleur leaned in for another embrace, and taking her into her arms, the brunette could feel how frail and tired the blonde witch was. Her fingers came to rest on the crown of Fleur's head. She turned her nose into the supple skin of Fleur's neck and she breathed two words, "You're free."

"H-h-h-hermione…?" The timid words came from Narcissa Malfoy, her hand pressed against her chest in hopeful shock. "Is…the Dark Lord...dead?" The brunette nodded, and gave a smile as she dislodged herself from Fleur to help the elder witch to her feet.

"You've…done…well." A third voice said from the floor, and immediately Hermione was roused from her happiness, and she looked upon the fallen form of Bellatrix Lestrange. All around her, a veritable lake of blood was seeping from her bullet wound, which appeared to have been torn open in the throes of a struggle. For every meager breath the woman took, a bit of blood would froth from the wound and dribble down the side of her leather corset to the floor.

"Bellatrix rescued us 'Ermy. Subduing Peter Pettigrew, and fighting several Death Eaters to free us." Fleur added with a despondent tone.

"Bella!" Hermione reached for the Death Eater's bloodied hand, only to earn a loud groan of protest. "They said you were dead! Let me go get Kara! See if the Order has healers!" Her voice was growing louder by the second.

Bellatrix quieted her with an open palm. "Hush...It's too...late for me…Hermione…" The raven-haired woman struggled to speak, each syllable accompanied with a gurgle as she breathed. Precious seconds trickled away like water through fingers, and Hermione sprung to her feet and ran toward the hallway.

"Harry!" She waved her arm frantically toward him. "Bring the painting here please!"

Harry complied, quickly grabbing Helen's portrait and scrambling down the dimly lit hallway. Reaching the cell door, he passed the frame to Hermione and followed her inside. Fleur smiled broadly once more and rushed toward Harry and hugged him tightly.

"Fleur!" Harry cried, enveloping the Veela with his arms. "Are you alright?"

"Oui…A bit rattled, a few bumps and bruises as 'zey say." She breathed, before gently gripping each of Harry's shoulders to hold him at arms length. Behind them Hermione held the portrait with trembling hands, angling it to face the dying Bellatrix.

"Helen...my love...we'll be...together...soon..." The dark witch wheezed.

Harry's face contorted into a deep scowl at the sight of Bellatrix sprawled on the ground, and his throat quivered as he prepared to speak. Fleur silenced him immediately.

"Let 'zem be 'arry. We 'ave experienced 'urt enough 'een one day to last a lifetime. Bellatix 'eez dying…just give 'zem a few moments peace…" Narcissa approached from behind the Frenchwoman, and Harry instantly recoiled.

"Mrs. Malfoy."

"Hello Harry." She spoke solemnly. When he did not immediately respond she continued. "I am well aware that you are not fond of me, and given the present circumstances I shall not endeavor to change your opinion of me. And I know that my sister has wronged you in the past, I won't try and argue that...but now she lies dying. Behind us a family is being torn asunder, and getting ready to say goodbye. It would behoove us to afford them a brief moment of privacy. Would be so kind as to escort an injured woman upstairs?" Narcissa's lips quivered as she struggled to fight back tears. "Pl-Please...I cannot sit here and watch my sister die..." Before he could respond, the Malfoy matriarch looped an arm around his, and with a few limping steps guided him away from the grieving women. Fleur turned to rejoin her lover, gently reaching for the portrait, and taking it from Hermione.

Bellatrix' outstretched hand was touching Helen's painted face, and the other was now being clasped tightly by Hermione. Tears were falling freely from Hermione's eyes, any moment now, Bellatrix would be gone.

It was cruel, Hermione thought as she watched her 'parents' say goodbye, she would be without a family once more. The Dark Lord finally lies dead, just meters above them, and he still managed to take something from her. The vitality that once ignited the very eyes of Bellatrix Black was rapidly fading; the skin of her face nearly translucent in its pallor. Her eyes roamed over to the bruised and bloodied French woman holding up the frame on her lap. Fleur turned as if she could physically feel her lover's gaze upon her and she returned the stare with a hopeful smile of her own between streaming tears. Hermione scooted closer to Fleur, not releasing Bellatrix' limp hand for a moment, and she gently rested her head on the blonde's shoulders. Fleur placed a small kiss on Hermione's scalp as they both looked upon Bellatrix.

"I will see you soon my dear…" Helen breathed, and despite the intense pain she was experiencing, Bellatrix gave a lopsided grin. The sight brought about a wave of sobs from Hermione, finding the scene to be unbearable.

"Je'taime 'Ermione. Tout ira bien." The fluidity of her lover's native tongue was soothing, and she heaved a deep sigh.

Bellatrix started to seize. "Her…her…hermione…" The elder witch rasped between her final breaths, blindly grabbing for the brunette, and the young witch clasped onto the flailing hand with both of her own, clutching it tight to her own beating heart. Hermione knelt forward in order to hear her godmother's words more clearly. "Do not…make…the same…mistakes…that I did…do not…allow yourself…to be guided…by anger…you are strong…brave…and have people…that...love...you…"

"Bella I-"

"I…love...you…Hermione…" And with that the faint breaths dissolved into the silence that permeated the cell. The dark witch's hand went slack in the brunette's grip. Helen whimpered lightly, as did Fleur. The French woman reach over with a free arm to gently ease Bellatrix' eyelids closed. Fleur lightly kissed Hermione's cheek.

And there, deep within the belly of the Malfoy Manor a new sense of resolve swelled within the young witch. Starting today she knew her food would taste better, the sun would shine brighter, and every kiss from Fleur would be more loving than the last. She gripped her lover's hand tightly, thousands of words of love conveyed through the simple gesture.

The brunette gave a slight motion and Fleur turned to gently prop Helen's frame against the nearby wall. When she turned back around, Hermione gathered both of the Frenchwoman's hands in her lap, before tenderly placing the silver band on one of Fleur's slender fingers. The Veela could only gasp and look up to gape at the young witch who was smiling broadly through raining tears. Hermione cupped the blonde's cheeks and drew her face closer to capture Fleur's lips in a chaste kiss. Once they pulled apart, she gently rested her forehead against her lover's. Delicate breaths tickled Hermione's lips as she could feel Fleur tense and shiver with anticipation. With a small chuckle Hermione calmly soothed the french witch.

"Fleur...make me a promise here and now..." She slowly began, her words chosen and deliberate. Behind Fleur, Helen had her fingers laced together held tightly against her chest. Upon Helen's face, there shone a beaming smile of hope.

"Bien sûr! Anyzing!" Fleur said softly while absently touching the silver band upon her finger.

"Promise me..." Hermione kissed her. "...that even if it's by one day..." Another kiss. "...that you'll outlive me..." One more. "...for I couldn't bare to be without you ever again."

And with a gentle nod, Fleur smiled.

FINIS