Hi everyone, thank you so much for your kind reviews and encouragement. I am glad you are enjoying the story and I hope I won't disappoint.

So here's another chapter and have a great weekend ahead!

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter

It was later that night, after dinner, that Hermione approached Fleur.

"Fleur, can I talk to you for a sec?" Hermione's expressionless face made the blonde stopped clearing the table and lightly caressed the brunette's cheek with her own.

"Sure, I won't be a moment."

Hermione wandered out of the house and sat on the jetty, letting her ankles played with the cool waters. The breeze teased her locks of hair gently. She sighed, gazing upwards at the sky. It was a rather cloudy evening, with the heavenly bodies hidden from view. Sleeping out here was tempting.

She heard Fleur's calm, measured footsteps softly approaching. Moments later, a throw covered her, instantly warming her.

"Thanks Fleur," Hermione pulled the throw tighter, savouring the blonde's distinctive smell. She frowned. Why was she sniffing at the throw like some lovesick teenager? The thought of it made her ill. She shook her head.

Fleur sat beside her, dipping her ankles into the lake, just like Hermione. The blonde was wearing a jacket. Hermione felt a slight disappointment. She thought they both could share the throw together. She frowned again and sighed. Ginny's words had done nothing but made her think of weird things that further confused her.

"Why are you sighing, Hermione?" Deep blue eyes stared at Hermione with gentleness and concern. There was something else within those eyes but Hermione could not figure it out.

Hermione took a deep breath and strengthened her resolve. It was now or never.

"You said you will never leave."

"It's never my intention, no, and it's not in my plans." Fleur gave her a curious look.

"Prove it."

"Well, I am still here, aren't I?"

"No, I mean, I want you to prove it after you hear this little story of mine."

Hermione was nervous. Her hands shook a little. Fleur, noticing this, took Hermione's hand and enveloped it in her warm one.

"I'm listening," the blonde said softly.

There was no backing out now. It was now or never and Hermione was tired of all her confusion, of all her uncertainty, of all her fears.

"A few months after the war was over, something happened," she began, eyes gazing at nothing in particular in the distance. "One moment, I was having fun with friends. The next minute, I was screaming in pain, my mind assaulted by a cacophony of voices. There was laughter; crying; screams of pain; shouts of joy; and even monotonous lecturing of things I don't even understand."

Fleur said nothing, still holding her hand tightly.

"I tried to search for answers, to figure out what's going on," the brunette continued. "I even joined the Ministry to get access to documents and people that would be nearly impossible for me to reach otherwise. Muggle medicine decides I am insane. The magical world thinks I'm either cursed, possessed, or insane as well. But my mind and body are sound; I am healthy and fit as one could be. While I have trauma from the war, my mind is intact. I am not possessed – I did check with the Department of Mysteries. They're mystified by this mysterious…illness, for lack of a better word. They too, think I'm crazy."

"So I faked it all. I took a week off from work and when I returned, I told everyone I was just under a load of stress. I was just having migraines. I was afraid they'd put me in St. Mungo's permanently, afraid that I was becoming like Neville's parents." Hermione closed her eyes, remembering. "People only see what they want to see. Nobody realised I was actually suffering inside. I wanted help. I needed help. But how could I get help when I couldn't figure out what's wrong with me? Even now, I still have no idea, Fleur."

Fleur did not say anything, letting Hermione collect her thoughts.

"The voices come randomly. Sometimes they're just a bunch of annoying noises; at other times they're just like a radio that plays a drama, as if you're there witnessing an event but unable to see anything because it's just so dark. I don't even know any of them, but I can tell you why they're miserable: a small girl, sounded around five, walking around asking to see her grandmother and complained that her arm just won't attach back; an old man, begging for the landlord to let him see his dying wife who'd been caught stealing a loaf of bread from the castle and she died because the landlord kept on beating her with a brick; a young woman, gleefully telling her own younger sister that the latter's fiancée was being buried alive for not choosing the older sibling; three men wailing because…"

Hermione started to sob and Fleur gathered the brunette in her arms, giving Hermione warmth and comfort.

"…because they're the last of their race and were castrated to serve some cruel emperor. I can't see them, Fleur. I can't talk to them. I can't help them. But they're always there and I'll always have this feeling that I am guilty, accused of not doing anything to help. How can I help them when I don't even know what the hell is going on?"

Fleur rocked them both and let Hermione screamed out her anguish.

"And the laughter, that insane laughter just won't stop! I don't know what's so funny but they just won't stop laughing! They laugh about everything: murder, causing pain, left door being bigger than the right, extremely yellow daffodils… I don't understand them. I don't understand any of this. I'm not crazy, Fleur, I'm not. I can still think clearly, I still have my mind intact. The voices do not interact with me at all. They're just… like a broken radio which I have no control of. But it hurts my head so much. I am not crazy, yet I am. Why won't it stop? Why can't I be happy? What mistakes have I done? I helped save the world, yet the world won't lift a finger to save me. Why, Fleur, why?"

Fleur held her as she cried her heart out. It was a relief that Hermione could finally tell someone about it. The brunette felt like a weight had been lifted from her chest. But still, she feared. She was afraid.

Gathering up the Gryffindor courage that she had left, Hermione extracted herself from Fleur's arms and gazed up, looking into the blonde's deep blue eyes. Those eyes were filled with nothing but kindness, gentleness, acceptance, and warmth. Hermione shuddered involuntarily.

"Why won't you leave?" she asked in a small voice, confused. Her heart was searing in pain, but at the same time was shouting for joy. Fleur's eyes did not change their expression. "Why are you still here?" She begged for understanding, but not wanting to know the answer.

Fleur brushed a strand of hair from Hermione's face and tucked the offending hair behind the brunette's ear.

"You're precious to me," Fleur said gently. "I have no intention to leave."

It felt like time stopped for Hermione as she was barraged with a thousand emotions swirling through her heart. Relief, joyful, sadness, fright, panic. Without wanting to, without planning to, Hermione lifted her hand, reached out to Fleur, and brought her lips to the blonde's. A million stars exploded as she savoured the sweet taste, inhaled the warm aroma, and explored the beauty that was Fleur. Hermione was brought to a dizzying height. Fleur held onto her waist gently, steadying them both, making sure neither would fall into the waters.

When Fleur murmured her name, Hermione opened her eyes in shock, horrified. She pushed herself away from the blonde who looked confused and jumped to her feet.

"I'm sorry Fleur, I'm sorry," she felt herself panicking. "Just forget it. Sorry."

Hermione ignored Fleur calling her and ran into the house, slammed the door. Her first instinct was to hide on her bed under the covers but when she remembered Fleur was sleeping there, she halted. The brunette hid herself under several layers of blanket, curled on the couch, back toward the door. She did not move when Fleur stood nearby, and did not respond when the blonde bid her a soft goodnight.

It was a long time before she could fall asleep, and for the first time in months, Fleur did not move her to the bed.

If there was one thing Hermione Granger absolutely hated was uncertainty. Uncertainty clouded one's mind, making one prone to make mistakes.

Hermione Granger did not do mistakes.

From a young age, she made sure she committed the rules and regulations of her immediate environment to her heart and mind. When one did not break rules, one would not make mistakes, so she concluded. She tried her best to play it safe and stick to the rules, despite her numerous adventures with Harry and Ron involving breaking nearly every single rule Hogwarts laid out.

Unfortunately, there were no rules rigid enough to be set in stone when it came to feelings.

Hermione prided herself as a highly logical creature. While not devoid of feelings, she rarely allowed her emotions to take control. Time and time again, her logical nature played a key part in saving the Golden Trio from multiple near-death situations. Due to this, she did not put much trust on feelings and emotions, and often suffered from confusions, unable to dissect her feelings.

Hermione spent the whole night struggling with herself, trying to understand her feelings, understand her actions. She tossed and turned; adjusted her pillows more frequently than Lavender changed her outfit. She was mortified that she had kissed her friend and thought it was the same reason as when she and Ron kissed in the Chamber of Secret: a blend of tension and relief. It never dawned on her that it could signify something more. Feelings, after all, were not her strongest suit.

Hermione was convinced that the kiss was accidental – it was pure adrenaline rush of some sort. But try as she might, she could not shake away the thoughts of Fleur. Hermione had tasted the blonde, and she wanted more. All night long she struggled not to jump and run to where Fleur were. It was torture. She had never felt this way before. Nobody had made her feel so confused, so conflicted, so blissfully happy, and so panicked.

It was madness. As if the voices were not enough.

Hermione managed to fall asleep just before the sun rose on its horizon. But just as she started to dream, she was rudely awakened by her own self. Her stomach felt as if it was being twisted upside down. She was nervous and scared.

Hermione opened her eyes and heard Fleur in the kitchen. A small smile formed on the brunette's face without her realizing. Then she frowned, remembering what happened. She groaned into her pillows, not wanting to face Fleur. She'd rather die first.

Come on Hermione, Fleur's not that bad. She won't hate you just because of a small kiss, she reasoned with herself. She's still here, hasn't left. Surely she'll understand that it was all a mistake.

Hermione frowned again. She was on the couch, not on her bed. A pang of disappointment overcame her for a moment.

"Own up to your mistakes," she told herself. "The world will not end."

Hermione dragged herself to the kitchen, hesitating at the door. A tired-looking Fleur was stirring the pot, lost in thoughts. Without needing to ask, Hermione knew it was her fault. Unsure what to do, she cleared her throat. Fleur looked up, rather startled. For a brief moment, there was an emotion in those deep blue eyes of hers that made Hermione shivered involuntarily. But before the brunette could figure it out, Fleur's eyes reverted to their usual warmth and gentleness, with a tinge of sadness.

"Hungry?"

Hermione nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She wanted to apologise, to make amends. But part of her was angry at herself for even considering to apologise. But she had made a mistake – why should she not apologise?

Because, unlike shooting arrows at people's knees, shooting arrows at people's hearts do kill them, a cold, cruel voice in her head whispered.

Hermione was startled. She was frightened.

Fleur, noticing this, approached the pale girl, concern and worry in her eyes.

"Are you alright?" the blonde asked, touching Hermione's forehead lightly with the back of her hand.

"He talked," Hermione gripped Fleur's shoulders, despaired. "He talked to me, Fleur. To me. They never talked before. None of them ever talked to me before. But he talked!"

"It's alright, it's alright, I'm here with you," Fleur said soothingly. "What did he say?"

"He said that it's better if…" Hermione's voice trailed. She nearly blurted out what she was thinking, what she was feeling. She took a deep breath, steadying her voice. "It doesn't really matter. But he talked to me, Fleur."

Fleur was quiet for a moment. Hermione's heart fell. She tried to keep her breathing steady, not daring to look into Fleur's eyes.

Fleur must be trying to figure out a way to leave as gently as she can, the brunette thought to herself, resigned. I knew this will happen.

The cold, cruel voice snickered. Hermione growled, telling him to shut up. Tears were silently forming in her eyes, threatening to fall. Almost predictably, a choir of terrible harmony sang a chorus of laughter and wailing. Fleur held Hermione tightly in her arms, preventing the brunette from escaping and running away.

The blonde hummed Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, refusing to let Hermione push her away. Slowly, the pain subsided, like a dull ache after over sleeping.

"Hermione, I do not want to give you false hopes, but I believe a friend of mine can figure out what's happening to you and may have the knowledge on how to deal with it," Fleur said softly.

Hermione dared herself to look up, into Fleur's eyes. Again, they held no judgment, no indication of walking out. The blonde wiped the tear-stained cheeks.

"Do you trust me enough, Hermione?"

Hermione swallowed. Why did she feel so weak whenever she gazed into those eyes? She wanted to feel those lips again. Hermione looked away, taking a deep breath.

"Yes, Fleur," she responded softly. It was illogical but Hermione did trust Fleur enough with whatever Fleur had in mind. The brunette felt she was safe and need not to worry about the details.

"Alright. Let's get you ready. Visiting hours are opening soon," Fleur gently pulled Hermione to the room.

It was when the brunette combed her hair that she realized she knew nothing about what was going on. She felt a slight panic.

"Uh… Fleur? Where are we going?"

"Visiting a friend of mine," came the reply from the bathroom.

That was not reassuring. Hermione wanted to tell Fleur that she changed her mind and would prefer to stay at home but just as she opened her mouth to say that, the blonde exited the bathroom, wearing all leather. The words flew from both Hermione's brains and mouth.

"Are you ready?"

Hermione just nodded, as if in a daze. Fortunately, Fleur did not notice this. The blonde led her outside and took her hand to Disapparate. Hermione's stomach flipped at the touch.

Behave, the brunette scolded herself. You're just starving for affection.

Nevertheless, part of her was glad to have that contact.

"You've got to be kidding me."

They were standing in front of a large, white building. It was surrounded by hills, with the sun shining brightly through the cloudless sky. The building was fenced by wires, with visible check points scattered around. Written large at the entrance were the words 'St. Michael Wellness Space'.

"Fleur, I am not stupid. I've read about this place. Do you think you can deceive me?"

Fleur gripped Hermione's arm tightly, preventing the brunette from escaping.

"Hermione, I'm sorry about this. I believe you when you say you're not crazy. Really. It's just that unfortunately my friend is stuck here. It's just a coincidence, nothing more."

Hermione was seething and hurt. She felt betrayed. Of all places, Fleur brought her to St. Michael Wellness Space, a little-known place home to the world's richest and most elite insane wizards. Purebloods who did not want their shameful secrets to be out in the open would send their certifiably insane family members to this place, with the occasional poor souls who were carted off there just because they defied their family's values. Hermione came across St. Michael's in one of her readings when she was searching for clues regarding her 'illness'.

At the end of the day, Fleur was the same like everyone else: they thought Hermione was losing her mind.

"Why is your friend here? Oh, don't tell me – your 'friend' is a Healer." Hermione could not keep the bitterness out of her voice.

Fleur shook her head.

"No, he's an…. 'inmate'," the blonde said softly. "But trust me, he is as sane as you and I. It's just that circumstances placed him here."

Hermione looked into Fleur's eyes and saw honesty.

"I promise you I will not let you be hurt," Fleur said sincerely. "I will make sure you will leave the place with me later. I am not leaving you."

"Alright," the brunette said slowly. "I'll go along with whatever your plan is, Fleur. I'll hold onto your words."

Fleur squeezed Hermione's hand in thanks.

They approached the entrance and were met with a formidable security. When Hermione was asked to leave her wand, she hesitated. Fleur gave her an encouraging nod and the brunette took a deep breath, taking a chance. Hermione hoped her trust would not be betrayed.

Fleur whispered something to one of the guards who seemed to know the blonde and they were led along the labyrinth-like corridors and stopped in front of a large white door with the name of "A. Martin". Hermione was nervous. Fleur held her hand and they both stepped inside.

The room's sole occupant was sitting in the corner, clothed in a straitjacket. He seemed to be fast asleep. There was nothing else in the room, not even furniture. Fleur nodded to the guard who left. The door was closed and locked from the outside.

"I can cast wandless magic, Hermione. Don't worry," Fleur murmured into Hermione's ear.

Fleur approached the sleeping man and knelt beside him. Hermione followed suit, keeping a distance. She was wary. Fleur murmured the Muffliato charm and beckoned Hermione to come nearer.

"I trust this is important enough to bring a stranger here?" the man opened his eyes, displeasure evident in his voice.

"Armand, this is Hermione. Hermione, this is Armand Martin, one of my oldest friends," Fleur sat on the floor, making herself comfortable. "I'm sorry to spring this on the both of you without warning, but it's not as if I've planned this anyway."

Armand studied Hermione with his piercing dark grey eyes. His eyes were clear as day, mind unclouded.

"Why are you wearing a straitjacket?" Hermione blurted out her question.

Armand and Fleur exchanged a glance.

"As I said, this visit is unplanned," the blonde shrugged.

"Well, considering Fleur herself brought you here, I doubt you will do any harm," Armand shifted and stretched his neck. "I hate to retell this story so I'll just keep it short. Years ago, when I was young and foolish, I befriended a wonderful person who later one became my boyfriend. He's a muggle. He did not know I'm a wizard. My family found out and at first they tried to separate us. Even Obliviated him at one point. But I never gave up. When he lost his memories, I stood by his side. He fell in love with me all over again. It was as if fate liked us together. But I was careless and my family found out again. My father killed him and to cut a long story short, I killed my father. Unfortunately for them, if I went for a trial and get jailed, the family name will be shamed forever. So they claimed I was insane and accidentally killed my father when we were dining at home. As ridiculous as the story is, here I am."

"Can't you get out? Fleur, you're able to cast magic wandless. Can we help him escape?" Hermione was reminded of her adventures with Harry to free Buckbeak from a certain death.

Armand gave a throaty laugh.

"I am thankful for your concerns but no, let me be here," he gave Hermione a wry smile. "I am safer in here than out there. Patricide is not tolerated in my family. I'd be dead in an instant if I were to step out of here. Besides, I'm also a wanted man."

"You hate talking yet you want people to have more questions," grumbled Fleur. She turned to Hermione and said, "his family's involved in the dark arts for centuries. Since he killed his father, the inheritance falls to him. Naturally, his father's other wives and sons disagree. So Armand's mother never bothers to free him."

"That bitch is enjoying all the money," he muttered darkly.

Ah. Money. Inheritance. That was less complicated than Hermione thought.

"Anyway, I believe you're here not for a simple social visit. Oh wait – while I am happy for you both, I'm unable to attend your wedding."

Hermione felt her cheeks reddened. There was a flash of hurt in Fleur's eyes. Hermione looked away. Armand looked at them both with eyebrows raised.

"And I have just said the wrong thing. Alright, I won't pry. So why are you here?"

"Hermione has been plagued by… voices," Fleur answered, rather hesitant. She gave Hermione a quick glance. "She's been plagued by unknown voices for a few years. This morning one of the voices talked to her."

Armand eyed Hermione with a curios expression.

"How often do they come?"

"Whenever they want," Hermione shrugged. She felt uncomfortable talking about this to a stranger in front of Fleur. "Sometimes multiple times a day, sometimes once, sometimes once in a few days. It varies."

"What do they usually say?"

Hermione sighed. Why did she agree to this? Damn Fleur and her ability to hypnotise Hermione.

"Some would laugh, some would cry, some would wail, some would beg. Sometimes they talk about nonsensical things. Sometimes they'd sound sane and would discuss something seriously. Their topics seem to be random."

"And when did it start? Do you remember where you were and what you were doing?"

"In Leaky Cauldron," recalled the brunette. "I was having drinks with some friends. We were celebrating the fact that we're still alive."

Armand tilted his head to the side, thinking. Fleur, noticing Hermione was fidgety, took her hand gently and held it. Armand blinked at that but said nothing.

"Hermione, can you do me a favour?" Armand asked. "Sit closer to me, look into my eyes, and open your mind."

Hermione frowned.

"I won't hurt you. Fleur would skin me alive if I do that."

Hermione hesitated.

"Hermione, I won't let you get hurt," Fleur said gently. "But I won't force you to do it if you don't want to."

"What are you going to do, Armand?"

"To look into you, of course," he answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "But really, is it that bad for another person, a certified 'madman', to look into your mind to check the voices?"

Hermione wanted to tell him that yes, that would be an absurd thing to do. She did not want another person to be in her mind. But Fleur looked at her with a hopeful and nervous expression in her eyes, despite her calm face.

"Alright," Hermione agreed, not knowing why she said that. Nervously she sat as close as possibly to Armand, looked into his eyes, and allowed her mental guard to lower.

It was over as soon as it started. Armand only looked at her for a moment before turning his head away.

"What do you think?" Fleur asked softly, sitting next to Hermione. The blonde rubbed Hermione's shoulders soothingly.

"Not my family's favourite method of torture but Hermione here is cursed." A pause. "Sort of."

"Curse? We've defeated Voldemort. He's dead," Hermione's voice rose an octave. A horrifying thought went through her mind – what if Voldemort was not truly dead but somehow managed to make Hermione a Horcrux by accident?

Armand looked at her as if she was crazy.

"It has nothing to do with him. Someone that hates you or has a grudge on you placed this curse on you. This person wants you to go mad slowly with the intention of you taking your own life. It's a very old, dark, and expensive ritual to do."

Fleur swore in French, which shocked Hermione. The brunette never heard her swore before.

"Tell me who did it, Armand," growled Fleur. There was a feral look in her eyes. "I will skin them alive myself."

"Unfortunately I can't help you with that, darling. What you can do, however, is to pay Mildred a visit."

"No." Fleur's answer was quick and firm.

Armand raised his eyebrows. "I thought you want to help Hermione?"

Fleur gritted her teeth. "Is there nobody else aside from that accursed woman?"

"Unfortunately, no. Well, maybe there is but I have no idea. At the present time, your best bet is Mildred. I'm sorry my dear, even if I were a free man, I wouldn't be of much help in that department."

Fleur groaned and buried her head in her hands.

"Fleur, that's okay, you don't have to force yourself," Hermione tried to soothe the blonde. "I'm used to this. I won't let them win."

Fleur raised her head and gave Hermione a small smile. She shook her head. "No, Hermione. You're too precious."

"Too precious to the point of not marrying her," Armand muttered. Fleur kicked his shin rather viciously. Hermione blushed, feeling very uncomfortable.

"Ow! You're too cruel, Fleur, to attack such a helpless innocent man."

"You deserve it," Fleur stuck her tongue out.

"Well, go away now. Find Mildred."

Fleur kissed Armand's cheeks before rising to her feet.

Before exiting the room, Armand told Hermione, "You'll be fine, girly. You have Fleur."

The familiar knot in her stomach appeared again and she felt a pang of guilt.