Golden Haze – Act Two, Scene Two

AN: Sorry for the delay with this, my personal life has officially blown up in my face and I'm trying to sort through some stuff, plus I have to look for a job for the first time in six months as the position that I was working since June abruptly ended. And I was let go with no warning and with no plan in place and probably no potential to get unemployment out of it. Shit blows, oh well. Don't know how regular the updates are going to be until I find a job and steady income once again.

The poem that is mentioned about halfway through is "Almost Perfect But Not Quite" by Shel Silverstein.

Music of the Story: Bob Dylan and David Bowie

Sitting on her couch with a large flat book full of pictures of architecture in Paris on her lap as a makeshift desk, Fleur turned the parchment in front of her over and over in her hands. She was debating writing Gabrielle back and informing her that she could get herself into divination classes a year early as she apparently had quite the talent for predicting the future. Her eyes kept flicking towards the clock in the corner, sitting at the back of her real desk as if taunting her with its hard surface and excess of quills. She had sent a note to Hermione, after a moments debate and a rash decision to simply lay herself bare (at the veela's urging, naturally) before Hermione and let what happened happen.

She was nervous, fearful that she'd lose her nerve or do something rash like she'd done in the woods and in her rooms afterwards. She had liked that. Liked the feel of Hermione's lips against her own and the insistent pull of Hermione's hands in her hair. She had not had a chance to do that again, since that first time, and had barely had a chance to see Hermione at all with how hectic the past few days had been.

The note had been a desperate plea, one she was almost ashamed about sending – as she did not want Hermione to see her as weak or desperate. She had tucked it into the essay that she was handing back to Hermione along with the rest of her seventh year class on the principles of blood magic in the Dark Arts and how it could be manipulated for defensive purposes. It was Hermione's usual good work, but she could have done further research on a few points that she had mentioned as throw-away quick points before her conclusion. She had asked Hermione to come and see her after dinner, and had said that she had had something important to tell her. Fleur hoped it wasn't too cryptic; she'd had far too many cryptic notes recently to stand to send one herself.

Fleur folded her legs up under herself and frowned, staring out at the growing darkness outside of the window. She didn't want to tell Hermione about what William had said to her, or about the other note that she'd received, but McGonagall had implied that she was going to have to speak to the Order of the Phoenix as a whole about the notes she'd been receiving. Hermione was a member of the order and had been since the war had really kicked into high gear.

There was a quiet knock on her door and Fleur set the book that she had been using as a makeshift desk down on the ottoman in front of her and waited until the door started to open before speaking. A quiet smile and a feeling of contentment that came from being in Hermione's presence washed over her and Fleur hated how Hermione could wash away her personal insecurities just by being there. She wanted to be able to feel upset in Hermione's presence, to not have a goofy smile on her face and a flirtatious tone in her voice. That was the veela, it was all the veela. "I see that you got my note."

Hermione closed the door behind her with a resolute snap and pulled her school bag off of her shoulder and set it by the door. Her robes were wrinkled at the back where the strap had cut into the cloth across her back. She looked tired, Fleur thought as Hermione came to sit next to her on the couch. "You said that you had to talk to me about some things?" she asked.

"Perhaps…" Fleur trailed off, looking at Hermione's jeans and sweater with what she hoped was an appraising air. She must have gone up to the dormitory and changed before dinner, but had wisely kept her school robe on over her clothes as the castle was getting quite drafty as October drew to a close. She grinned just enough to flash her teeth at Hermione, white and predatory. "But first I want to kiss you."

"But…" Hermione began.

Fleur gave her a pointed look, as if daring her to refuse.

"Oh all right then," Hermione said and moved closer, her hair frizzing every which way. Fleur reached out to smooth it down, her fingers tangling up in the curly locks as she pulled Hermione forward, her lips brushing Hermione's cheek as their bodies came together. It was nice like this, Hermione's chest pressed against her own and Hermione's thighs pressed up against her own, stratling her and pushing warmth into Fleur's center.

Hermione kissed her shyly at first, her fingers tangling into Fleur's hair. Fleur pulled her closer, her hands pushing Hermione's robs out of the way to touch skin under sweater. She was so soft and so smooth and the way that her body moved under Fleur's fingers was exquisite. Fleur was still learning, the veela still teaching her, all the ways to touch Hermione to make her groan into their kisses, to incite reaction.

Fleur pushed her tongue into Hermione's mouth, her fingers pushing up and under Hermione's bra in the same motion. Hermione squirmed under her touch, trying to get closer. This was so nice, so wonderful, everything that Fleur had wanted for so many years. Her fingers touched soft skin and Fleur couldn't contain the guttural noises that welled up in her own throat. She moaned into the kiss and Hermione hummed back at her, hands playing with Fleur's hair and pressing their lips together.

This was how their meetings had been for the past few weeks, stolen passionate kisses, never further than Fleur's hands under Hermione's shirt. She wanted to go further, but wanted Hermione to know the truth about her heritage before they went any further. She knew that she was falling further with every passing moment, but also that she was giving herself the way out. She could survive a rejection, she was strong enough.

(Liar.)

She broke the kiss, her face suddenly falling and her feeling for the kiss completely gone. Fleur knew that she had to tell Hermione, there was no way to get around it.

"Fleur, what's wrong?" Hermione asked, sitting back on Fleur's lap, her hands detangling to rest on Fleur's shoulders and to play with the fabric of her top.

Before she could stop them, the lie tumbled out of her lips. "It is nothing." She regretted the words instantly, and hoped that Hermione could see through her omission.

Intelligent brown eyes surveyed her with interest and Hermione poked Fleur's cheek with her finger and asked in a serious tone, "Has anyone ever told you that you are a horrible liar?"

Fleur laughed. "Many times," She sighed, pulling Hermione back towards her so that Hermione's head was resting on her shoulder. This way she only had to talk to bushy hair and not those eyes that were so sure to fill with anger at Fleur's deceit. "'ermione, I – I do not know 'ow to begin," Her voice sounded alien and her tongue felt clumsy. Fleur longed to speak in French, her English was not good enough to actively convey her feelings at times.

"Is this about your heritage as a veela? It doesn't bother me, Fleur. I think it's rather dashing honestly." Hermione's voice was muffled by Fleur's shirt.

Fleur swallowed. "There is a bit of that, but it is not really that that is bothering me." She sighed broadly, and ran her hands up and down Hermione's back, looking for strength in the motion. "I received a note on Thursday. Two notes, actually. A note that threatened me and a note that threatens to ruin my life."

"What?" Hermione stilled under her hands.

Taking a deep breath, Fleur took the plunge, speaking as concisely as she could. She did not want to drag out this conversation with the finesse of language. "You know 'ow the laws are right now, 'ere in England. I married William for the protection that the Weasley name 'ad to offer and also to give 'im some freedom of 'is own. 'e is the 'eir, I am a magical creature in the eyes of the law."

Hermione sat up, and Fleur found herself looking into Hermione's eyes yet again. They looked angry and confused looking. "Barbaric…" Hermione intoned her eyes wide. She shook her head as her mouth pulled into a frown of disapproval. "Simply barbaric." Fleur was again reminded that where Hermione came from, these laws were alien and unpleasant – for muggles had long since gotten out of the practice of marrying their children off with hopes of continuing family lines. It was so easy to forget with Hermione, to forget their different upbringings and childhoods and think of themselves as essentially the same. Fleur knew it was wrong to do that, but she could not help it.

"It is not so bad, I do love William dearly as one does love their best friend, but it is not going well. Arthur Weasley is under pressure at work, to 'ave 'is 'eir 'ave an 'eir." Fleur brushed a stray lock of hair off of Hermione's forehead and didn't meet her eyes as she spoke. It was so selfish of William to ask for such a thing, and it was horrible that she was even considering doing such a thing for him. The laws had to be changed and soon, it was in the Prophet, they were working on it.

At a snail's pace.

Still, the question of children raised one in her own mind. Veela loved children, and her heritage had predisposed her to wanting them. The logistics, with a chosen mate such as Hermione became a little bit more complicated, but it was still possible. In several years. When their lives had calmed down and the laws had become more relaxed and they certainly would not have to deal with the troublesome fact that Fleur was still legally married to her best friend.

"They want you to have a baby?" Hermione's frown deepened, the unspoken question of if Fleur could be forced into bearing a child hovering on her lips as if she was afraid that voicing it would give it credence.

Fleur closed her eyes and sadly nodded. "Yes, but I cannot do it. Veela do not work that way. To have someone other than my mate's baby would drive me to the point of insanity and I would murder the child before it reached one year old."

"Then why even ask?" Hermione demanded, her eyes flashing dangerously. "It's rather cowardly, I think."

Fleur shrugged, it was cowardly, but it was the reality of their situation. They had to deal with it, there was no avoiding that. "That is what I need to talk to you about." She said, placing a placating hand on Hermione's shoulder. "You have to understand William. 'e is not really in a position where 'e can fight what Arthur and Molly say. Not until 'e has an 'eir."

Hermione frowned, her face pulling downward in a disapproving look that Fleur had seen many a time when she spoke to her friends. "Why should you be expected to have the child?"

Fleur shook her head, "It is, sadly, what I signed up for when I agreed to this farce."

"But it's not your place, fixing his problems," Hermione protested.

Fleur smiled sadly and shrugged. "It is how the laws are now, but that is not really what I 'ad wanted to talk to you about."

She looked adorably confused, her brow furrowed as Fleur talked her in circles. Fleur felt accomplished, as Hermione was far too smart to get turned around in verbal and mental circles like this. Finally, after a moment of though, Hermione asked, "Was this about the other note?"

(Almost perfect, but not quite.) Fleur would have rolled her eyes at the veela if at all possible, quoting American poetry that she read as a young child. That was not quite what she had been going for, but Hermione had come to almost the correct conclusion. "Yes, but this first," She smiled.

"Alright."

Fleur took a deep breath. This was the moment that she had been waiting for, the final revalation of truth and complete honesty. Merlin, how she hoped that Hermione would understand what she was saying and not react badly to it. Fleur knew that she could handle the rejection in time, but she did not know how she – how the veela – would react in the short term. It was still so new, being so close to that aspect of her person. She still hated it, hated the veela, but just being with Hermione made it somehow alright. "'ermione, I do not know how to begin to tell you the lengths at which I would go for you. You – who I met when I was seventeen and knew even then that I 'ad to 'ave you." "You drew the veela in. You made it content and made me feel full again."

Hermione's face, if it was possible, became more confused. She took a moment to pick the words, before eventually saying, "I hated you in fourth year – how did thi-?"

Fleur cut her off. "I know – I tried to pretend that I did not know, but when you were 'urt last year I came to the conclusion that I could not cower in fear of this anymore."

"What…" Hermione hesitated. "What am I to you?"

"You are mate. You are lover. You are the one." The words came easily, for Fleur had known for many years how she would describe these feelings for Hermione when the time finally came. Just to say the words was overwhelming, relief flooding over her at the same time that terror gripped her very being. She could not stop now, she had to finish, to get it all out before she braced herself for Hermione's reaction. "I love you with all my heart and I cannot stop myself from doing it."

Hermione leaned forward and kissed her, a gentle brush of lips and a pleasant reassurance to the fear that gripped the pit of Fleur's stomach. "This is so new. But I think I … I think can live with that."

Fleur could do little to keep the relief off of her face as the tension that she had felt across her body receded slowly away into nothingness. Hermione was alright with it, the way it was. They could figure out the child thing together. Sometime later, when things were not feeling quite so dire. Yes, they'd figure out how to avoid getting William disowned from his family at a later date – a much later date. "That is good then," she said quietly, a smile playing about her lips.

They were silent for a minute, Hermione distractedly braiding a few strands of Fleur's hair and leaning against Fleur's chest. It was comfortable here, like this. Alone with each other. Fleur loved these moments, for here the silence was tantamount, and they were truly completely and utterly content with each other. "What was the other note?"

Damn, Fleur had hoped she'd forgotten about the other note. She shook her head, knowing that Hermione was far too sharp to have missed something like that. "Promise me that you will not do anything rash."

"Why?" Hermione asked, eyes full of questions that Fleur did not really want to answer. The veela would make her tell, she could never lie to Hermione – or if she did it would be incredibly poorly.

"The note… it was as threat. Against me. Flilus – Professor Flitwick – got one too, as I am sure anyone else in the school who 'as less than pure wizarding blood in them did."

"I didn't…" Hermione began, her mind almost immediately jumping to the conclusion that so many others had to already come to. This was not the issue – it was the creature blood and the fact that it was someone who didn't understand the fact that creature blood would not be an issue to even the most staunch of pureblood supporters.

"I do not think the issue is being muggleborn, but rather being descended from a magical creature." Fleur said quietly, hating the assumption, but knowing it was a common one.

"Oh." Hermione blinked and looked apologetic. Concern colored her features and she asked, "Are you okay? Do they know who did it?"

"Right now? I am alright, I 'ave a lot to think about it." Fleur shrugged in an exaggerated motion and pulled Hermione closer to her, grateful for the warmth. She paused, her face pensive for a moment before continuing. She was not sure how much was appropriate to share with Hermione, but realized in the same breath that she would know about it anyway, because Harry Potter, if not Hermione herself were members, "The Order, under McGonagall's direction, is looking into it. They 'ave someone with inside information…"

x

While Fleur had never been officially named a member of the Order of the Phoenix, William was a member and she usually tagged along with him to the meetings for solidarity's sake. This time, however, her presence was requested by the group as a whole. She was uneasy as she left the school that night, fully aware that Hermione and Harry Potter and probably Ron Weasley (since one was never without the others) would be there at the meeting and she had not been entirely honest with Hermione about the exact nature of the notes. She had assumed that being vague would be smarter, but they had kept coming, and the threats were now accompanied by simple, yet nasty jinxes. It was only through force of habit that Fleur did not have acid scars on her hands now, as cursebreakers regularly scanned everything with diagnostic spells – mail was no exception to this rule.

That envelope had come in with the newspaper, inviting her presence at the next meeting of the Order of the Phoenix. The location would follow shortly, the note had said before bursting into flames. It had been folded carefully inside the A section of the paper so as to escape the scrutiny of the mail screeners that the Ministry had assigned to Hogwarts after the first acid spell had caught a fifth year Slytherin boy unawares. He would have scars all up and down his arms for the rest of his life, but at least his attack got the school governors involved and with them came the full force of the Ministry.

Fleur had been uneasy about the invasion of her privacy that came with the mail screeners, but eventually came to the conclusion that it was for the greater good. McGonagall had told her to cooperate fully with the Ministry and had had her talk to some of the school governors about her heritage when they descended upon the school en masse. It had been then that Fleur had found herself face to face with a woman who shared her complexion and who was apparently Draco Malfoy's mother. She hadn't known what to say to Mrs. Malfoy, or even known that she was a governor of the school in the first place. She had been so fidgety that Mrs. Malfoy had snapped after Fleur had been sitting across a table in one of the school's many guest chambers for under a minute, "Relax girl, I do not want you removed from your post. We share common ancestry enough for me to tell that you are bonded and therefore not a threat to any of the students here."

She had nodded weakly at that and had asked how the investigation was going, to which Mrs. Malfoy had informed her that there was very little progress and even if they had been, she probably would not have been informed, as her husband was technically the member of the board of governors and she was simply filling in for him while he was away. Fleur knew that by 'away' Mrs. Malfoy had meant 'on trial for death eater activities perpetuated over the past twenty years', but did not comment on that.

Still, the entire situation had been surreal. Mrs. Malfoy had looked down her nose at Fleur who had returned the gesture with the same practiced air that Mrs. Malfoy had apparently mastered. Veela blood, after all, produced similar mannerisms in anyone it tainted. They hadn't said much, just discussed with some trepidation the weather and how Draco Malfoy was doing in her class.

"What you need to understand, Madame Malfoy," Fleur had explained coolly after a question regarding Draco's latest practical exam, "is that your son 'as considerable knowledge of the Dark Arts but little practical knowledge of defense against them." Mrs. Malfoy had sniffed and blamed the lack of consistent professors in the subject for his lack of skill before bidding Fleur a rather tight-lipped goodbye. Fleur had resolved then to speak to Draco Malfoy about potentially joining Harry Potter's defense club to raise his practical scores but had lost her ability to do that when the owl informing her of the meeting's location and time had landed unceremoniously in a wet heap on her desk ten minutes before her seventh year class was slated to end. She had taken the soggy parchment from the owl and dismissed the class in one fluid motion, watching as they filed out with narrowed eyes until only Hermione remained.

"Is that the date of the next meeting?" Hermione had asked, coming to stand a little too close to Fleur, her eyes bright with question. Fleur whispered detection spells over the parchment and when they sang true, she broke the wax seal on the back of the letter and read quickly. The next meeting was that night, after dinner and after curfew. Wordlessly, Fleur had handed the note to Hermione and had begun to gather her things.

x

The back room at the bar that they had chosen to meet at was dingy and Fleur wrinkled her nose and ducked her head as she stepped down into the room. It smelled of stale beer and mildew in that room, along with the strong smell sweat. Several lanterns rested on barrels and far too many people were crammed into this small space, sitting on crates and looking grim. She made her way through to the back of the room and settled on a barrel next to Hermione who gave her a thin lipped smile in greeting.

"Salut," Fleur had said quietly to Hermione's smile. They had come separately, pretending that they had not spent the time before departing from the school in each other's arms. Fleur thought she was quite a good actress, as being around Hermione was constantly setting all of her senses on edge. "Am I early?"

"A little," Hermione had muttered back at her, her eyes fixed on the door. Fleur had seen Harry Potter and Ron Weasley outside at the bar, talking to William and Andromeda Tonks – who had apparently brought Teddy Lupin along to the meeting so that Harry could see him. She had nodded at them when coming in, but had had little interest in speaking with William after their encounter.

Fleur followed Hermione's thin lipped angry glare across the room to another corner, where the stark blond Draco Malfoy sat talking rather animatedly with an older auror that she'd met at several of these meetings in the past named Dawlish. She swallowed, knowing something of the bad blood between the two of them. She reached out; brushing hesitant fingers against the small of Hermione's back, trying to be wordlessly reassuring.

(Don't make a scene, beautiful one.)

Hermione's shoulders were hunched and Fleur's eyes narrowed as she stared across the room as it continued to fill up, watching Draco Malfoy speak quietly with the Auror Dawlish as though he was completely at home in a place where he would have been killed had it been even half a year earlier. He was waving his arms around and Hermione's fingers were clenched tightly around her wand.

"Don't," Fleur whispered quietly in her ear, withdrawing her hand from Hermione's back and indicating with her head that Harry Potter and the rest of those that lingered outside were beginning to file in. Harry held Teddy Lupin in his arms with the self-conscious air of a man who has no idea of how to hold a young child as he raised his eyebrows at Draco Malfoy and came to stand near to the far corner where Fleur and Hermione were waiting.

Hermione turned, her eyes flashing dangerously in the half-light as she hissed, none-too-quietly in Harry Potter's direction, "What is he doing here?"

"Relax Granger," There was something infuriating about the way that Draco Malfoy talked; Fleur had never realized this before today. He talked as though he owned everyone in the room and that they should all bow down to him. The arrogance, despite how his family had been shamed during the war. Fleur's eyes narrowed as he continued, "this is relevant to me as well, I think I know who's behind these threats that you all, as well as I, have been receiving."

Fleur bit her tongue, marveling at the fact that he had not come out and outright said that he had creature blood.

Ron Weasley let out of a snort of laughter, and Fleur was grateful that many of the others in the room were choosing to ignore this pretty school rivalry. This was common, from what Fleur had seen at the other meetings that she'd been to, they weren't the most cohesive bunch of individuals. Many of them did not like each other for various other reasons in their lives, but their hatred of Voldemort was enough to bring them mostly together and did facilitate some level of teamwork among them. "Wait, Malfoy, pure-blood-fanatic-former-Death-Eater-Malfoy, has creature blood in him?" Ron's eyes gleamed with laughter, but there was no malice there. "This is too good, I'm going to die laughing."

Draco Malfoy looked affronted, "Shut it weasel." He snapped, folding his arms across his chest and looking far too aristocratic for his situation. Fleur wondered just how much veela blood there was in him, as he was putting the veela in her on edge and making her feel all territorial and offended that he was insulting such a close friend of her mate (and her best friend and confidant to whom she currently was not speaking's brother). Fleur bit her lip as Malfoy continued, knowing that she was going to say something she would later regret if she spoke now. "I came here because I think I know who is doing this."

"Your da's buddies, you mean?" Ron shot back.

Draco Malfoy lunched forward, but Dawlish grabbed him by the back of his robes. "Tha'll do, lad," The older man's voice was gravely and scratchy – like a man who had smoked far too many cigarettes in his life.

"Ron, stop," Harry said, bouncing Teddy Lupin (currently cooing happily as he smacked at a bunch of garlic that was hanging from the low ceiling of the room) up and down.

"But Harry…" Ron muttered. Harry gave him a look.

"I doubt it's his dad's friends," Hermione spoke again and Fleur found herself staring at her with a mixture of shock and pride. This, this is what the veela had fallen in love with, the girl who was a born politican (may she never pursue that career path, ever) and who could charm with the best of them if she was so inclined. Fleur wondered where the skill had come from, but given how Hermione was constantly under pressure to perform as a muggleborn witch, she supposed that Hermione had mastered the skill a long time ago. Hermione continued, speaking to Malfoy in a civil tone that made the blond haired man look nervous, "Malfoy, I don't like the idea of working with you very much, but if you have anything that can help us get to the bottom of this before someone gets hurt…"

"It's too late for that." The voice of Minerva McGonagall cut through the room and all conversation immediately ceased. Fleur wondered how many in this room had had her as professor at one point or another and thought of her own classes. She wished that she had the ability to control a room like that with the commanding power of one who knows exactly what she wants and how to convey her points succinctly.

"Professor?'

"Minerva?"

McGonagall looked shaken in the half light, little wisps of her hair coming out of its severe bun and her scarf and cloak slightly askew. Her cheeks were flushed as though she had been running – or at least walking briskly – Fleur wasn't sure that McGonagall would ever run. "Albert Stinewell, noted singer, and part harpy, was killed a few hours ago. Aurors are on the scene now but there was another note addressed to them waiting for them." She took a breath, "It claimed that more would fall."

"Is Hogwarts safe? Could we gather everyone there?" Harry Potter's voice cut thought the silence that followed McGonagall's pronouncement and Fleur's own panicked thoughts about what might happen if she ended up as a target. Her veela blood was pure enough that she could still shift, still kill like the creature that her grandmother was. If threatened, that was exactly what she would do and she did not want anyone in this room harboring impressions otherwise. She was a veela, the golden haze surrounded and blessed her, she would protect those important to her.

"Mister Potter, I don't think you realize just how many wizards living in this country have some sort of relation who was a magical creature of one sort or another," McGonagall shook her head and someone muttered something about not paying attention in school. "This is not a mere handful of people, but thousands. It is quite common."

Harry bounced Teddy again, his brow furrowed as the baby gurgled happily. "Then why attack them?"

Draco Malfoy gave a snot of laughter that drew much of the room's eyes onto him. He folded his arms across his chest and drawled, "Human mania, Potter."

"I didn't ask you, Malfoy." Harry ground out – his tone suggesting that it would not be smart to continue speaking to him in such tones. Fleur's eyes narrowed, watching the body language between the two of them, she could see a grudging respect that she didn't think was there when she had last seen them together, when she was seventeen and had witnessed Draco Malfoy transfigured into a ferret bouncing through the air. They had hated each other then, on two different sides of the war that neither of them had chosen to be involved with.

Fleur thought back to that time at Shell Cottage, when Harry and Ron had told them about what had happened at Malfoy Manor, how Draco Malfoy had saved their lives. They had been so dumbfounded that he would do that, considering the situation Draco had been in for much of the war. Fleur thought it was honorable and said a lot about where the Malfoy's loyalties actually lay, with family as was the tendency of those with veela blood. She had held her tongue though, letting Harry and Ron rehash what had happened to William and marveling at how Malfoy wasn't as bad a guy as they apparently thought he was.

"Human mania?" Hermione asked quietly from Fleur's side. They had been trying to not touch each other too much, or too look too much like they hadn't spent the time leading up to this meeting on Fleur's couch with Fleur's hands up Hermione's shirt. Just thinking about those stolen moments of gentle touches and long kisses had been enough to make Fleur swallow hotly and flush, grateful for the half-light.

"Many wizards, especially those who are not touched by magical creature blood, are wary of it. Muggleborns especially do not understand it – as they see magical creatures as beasts rather than humanoid beings with perfectly functional reproductive bits." Auror Dawlish said in his scratchy voice.

"They're not though." Hermione protested.

"This is why, Granger, you are slightly better than many of your muggleborn compatriots." Draco Malfoy said with a grimace. Fleur bristled, insulted for Hermione. "I wouldn't be surprised if this was backlash against those who sympathized with the Dark Lord as they're all probably at least some part magical creature."

"They deserve the backlash." Someone in the back wearing a long cloak and a scowl ground out. Fleur had seen him several times and knew that he worked in the ministry with William's father and shared a lot of his politics. She frowned, wondering if the fact that a great number of people who did not support Voldemort who happened to share creature blood would deter his argument. The words, the cutting retort to his comment, were on the tip of her tongue when Harry Potter cut her off.

"No one deserves to get killed." He said in even tones. He looked to McGonagall and to Auror Dawlish, as they were the most senior members of the order now that Dumbledore and Severus Snape were dead. "Can we do anything about it?"

McGonagall nodded with her usual tight-lipped smile before she spoke. "We are going to look into some connections first. The Ministry is treading carefully with this as the proportion of purebloods to muggleborn witches and wizards is vastly skewed in the direction of the muggleborns – any action by the ministry that is considered anti-muggleborn in any way, will have massive fallout." Those in the room nodded and Fleur realized just how precarious a position the Minister for Magic was in. He could not, emphatically, anger the muggleborn population with legislation right now that could be perceived as a threat. "You are all now in school, Harry. You can't do anything until the holidays anyway."

Teddy Lupin hiccuped loudly and Harry looked at him with concern that drew a small smile across Fleur's face before he turned and demanded to the room at large. "But what if they attack before then? What if they attack Hogwarts?"

They won't attack the school. Not again.

They won't attack Hermione. Not again.