Hi everyone, many apologies for the delay. I broke up with my girlfriend (now ex) recently and I just could not bring myself to write or do much of anything else. Especially writing a love story when my own is gone. However, I feel better now and I think I'm getting my writing mood back. I hope this chapter does not disappoint.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Thanks for sticking around and waiting for the next chapter, I really appreciate it.

Enjoy.

The sea was a temperamental mistress, its sighs swooned lovebirds; its fury spelled tragedy. The lone figure stared at the crashing waves below the dainty café, unflinching as the aftermaths shook the establishment. It was as if he did not feel a thing, not acknowledging the might of the ocean.

As Katarina poured the espresso that the lone figure ordered, she sneaked a glance at the man, mild curiosity setting in. It had been a slow day at work, and the café was nearly empty. To hell with the weather and England. But Katarina needed the extra money for the upcoming semester, and so instead of joining the rest of her friends to a warmer and a considerably more joyful place, she worked. The rain had been pouring all day long, and Katarina swore the endless thunders had rendered her deaf. She was shocked when a customer actually came in.

By the way the man spoke and acted, Katarina was certain he was from a wealthy upbringing, with high education that only the privileged few enjoy. His politeness surprised her – the rich brats at her campus forever boiled her blood. Katarina did wonder about the man's fashion choices – clad in all black with robe-like thing, with zero recognizable current trends. Being rich must be nice, people were willing to ignore your horrible fashion sense in order to get your money, she mused to herself.

Putting the cup next to the strawberry cheesecake on the tray, Katarina went around the counter and placed the items in front of the man. He thanked her, in his polite and most sincere tone, and her heart quickened a little. Katarina managed to mumble a reply before scooting off to her safe zone, behind the counter. She cursed herself. She had been out of the dating game for nearly two years, too busy with getting her mechatronics degree and working part time. Now, a man thanking her politely was making her giddy. Unbelievable. She shook her head.

Katarina rearranged the counter and cleaned it (not that there was much cleaning to be done – the man, after all, was the first customer of the day) to take her mind off absurd thoughts. She had forgotten that she was curious about the man's purpose of coming to the small café on a cliff in such a horrible weather. But that curiosity was rekindled when, nearly half an hour later, the café door opened for the second time of the day, giving way to an equivalently eccentrically-dressed short woman, bringing the rain in with her.

The waitress sighed inwardly at the sight of the muddy and wet floor, but composed her face and greeted the new customer as cheerfully as she could. But the woman ignored Katarina, walking straight to the man who was now studying the brief interaction with mild interest. Feeling rather flustered at the rudeness, the waitress quickly followed the woman, bringing a set of menu with her.

"What can I get for you, ma'am?" asked Katarina in her best polite voice. "May I recommend our very own designed Papyrus Tea? It's calming and warming, perfect for a horrid weather like this."

The short woman looked horrified and disgusted. She moved her chair as far as she could from the poor waitress, who was wondering whether she had said anything offensive.

"Forgive my esteemed colleague, young lady, but she's going through a lot of things at the moment and she's quite jumpy," the man cut in apologetically. "Would it be alright if we call you later on should my colleague want anything?"

"Y…yes, of course sir, my apologies," Katarina stammered, feeling her heart melting slowly at the ever-polite man. She nodded her apologies at the short woman and excused herself from that table, scurrying to her fort behind the counter.

Not knowing what else to do, and giving up pretending to be busy, Katarina sat on the floor, leaning against the solid wooden counter, and took her Game Boy out of her pocket and started playing her all-time favourite, Pokemon Yellow.

She was so engrossed in the game that she was startled when she heard her customers hissing at each other. Not wanting to witness a scene, Katarina stayed still. Not that she could see them from her position on the floor behind the counter. But she could not help putting all her focus on the conversation – this was as interesting as her boring day could get.

"…and why do you think I'm wearing all black, Marshall?" the short woman hissed.

"Trying to make people feel disgusted with the colour, perhaps? You've succeeded that with pink, Dolores," Marshall sounded very amused.

"This is not a joke! Why can't you ever be serious? You're hungry for a Wizengamot seat but you barely take anything seriously."

Katarina wondered what that Wize-mot thing was. Was that a new political party?

"Now, now, Dolores, surely you can take a joke or two, hmmm?" Marshall asked pleasantly.

The sound of the woman growling reminded Katarina of a wounded, bleeding cow.

"And is Granger being alive a joke to you as well? You said her days are numbered, any time now she'd take her own life. You guaranteed me that calling the ancient powers would be the perfect solution. I've spent a fortune, Marshall, and now I'm down to just one pathetic house-elf!"

"Are you calling me a liar, Dolores?" Marshall's voice dropped low, dangerous and menacing. The hairs at the back of Katarina's neck suddenly rose. "I never guarantee anything that I'm not completely certain. Have patience. These things take time. That poisonous mudblood will succumb to her disease soon."

Katarina was horrified. Why were these people not helping this sick person? And what ancient powers were they talking about? Were they some kind of religious nuts? Katarina ignored her fainting Squirtle and turned her full attention to the conversation.

"You keep on spewing all those guarantees yet the only thing that's been happening is that mudblood disappearing to who-knows-where," snorted Dolores. "Word is spreading about how the Golden Girl is dating another so-called war hero – another woman, mind you. This is what I've been saying all these years but nobody wanted to listen to me. You let these mud creatures into our society, and the next thing you know they'll poison your minds. A mudblood being adored now dating a halfblood trash. Oh, the horror! Can't you see why this evil creature must perish immediately, Marshall?"

Katarina was certain she just stumbled (well, it stumbled onto her) onto something big. She was just not quite sure what this was. Without giving it much thought, she took out her two months old flip phone and recorded the conversation.

"Yes, yes, I do know and understand it, Dolores," Marshall replied impatiently. "You just have to trust me. Lucas is from a long line of wizards familiar with this particular brand of magic, he will definitely deliver."

"Tell me, how many people have he killed by sending these…spirits?"

"I'll have to admit, this will be his first time doing it. But it's not his fault that his father died just before completing the boy's training. Give him time. He will not disappoint. Granger's death is certain – we only need to wait."

"Of course her death is certain, we all will die eventually," Dolores grumbled.

"Why is her death so urgent anyway? Even without her death, our faction will still be able to achieve our goal."

"Marshall, I never knew you to be so dim," Dolores said exasperatedly. "The foundation for the current Ministry is the despicable Golden Trio, and the key to that trio is that mudblood. Take her out of the equation, and everything will fall apart. If we leave her alive, she can still provide intelligence support. I don't know if you're aware of this fact or not, but Potter has powers in the Auror department. Without his mudblood, he is all brawns. It will be much easier for you to get close to him and start to whisper into his ears, and, without the mudblood to realise something's changing, our faction can force Kingsley to resign and Potter will replace him. The Wizarding Saviour will be our Golden Boy, an obedient puppet without even noticing it."

"If you're so obsessed about it, then why won't you offer more meaningful sacrifices to the spirits? Being stingy will not help, you know."

Dolores snorted. "I will never offer my blood, if that's what you're trying to push me into doing. Besides, I still do not trust your damn wizard completely. What if somehow the mudblood managed to find out about the spirits? She'll be able to cure herself in no time."

"You and your paranoia," Marshall chuckled. "If, by some dumb luck, the mudblood figures out what ails her, it will still be too late. According to Lucas, the spirits will not stop until their target's blood dries up. Besides, there's no way she'll be able to track down Lucas. He assures me that the spirits' sender is not trackable. Therefore, you can relax. Well, I have to go and meet my wife before she starts suspecting I'm having affairs with you. No offense, Dolores, but I'd like to believe I can catch a more…desirable fish if I were to have affairs."

"One day you will pay for it, Marshall," Dolores' voice was colder than the temperature outside.

Marshall merely laughed.

Katarina heard the sounds of chairs being pushed back. She quickly stuffed her phone into her pocket and got to her feet, the Gameboy still in hand.

"Who do you think is more evil, miss? My esteemed colleague here or handsome me?" Marshall asked pleasantly.

Katarina's blood froze – did they know she was hearing to every single word?

"I don't think we are evil though, we're just brave enough to do dirty work for the advancement of mankind," Marshall did not give the waitress time to answer. Beside him, the ugly short woman just watched, her beady eyes emotionless.

In a swift motion, Marshall took out a short stick from his robes, muttered a strange word, and Katarina's eyes went blank.

She was confused. What was she doing? Who were these people in front of her?

The man in front of her looked at her in concern. "You seem exhausted, miss," he said softly. "I'm sorry we kept you this late. As our appreciation and apology, please keep the change." He placed a hundred-pound note on the counter. "May the grace of God be with you, my child," he bowed a little as he made the sign of the Cross. His companion, a creepy-looking nun, just looked at him strangely.

Katarina's eyes went wide at the note. She thanked the kind priests profusely and thanked the heavens for sending such kind spiritual workers on a gloomy day.

She glanced at her Gameboy – oh well, she had to load her saved game.

"Harry, what if Ginny gets mad at me?" Hermione tugged at her best friend's sleeve, anxiety filling her. They had just come out of the fireplace and were dusting themselves.

Harry turned his face to look at her and joked, "Are you telling me that my wife is more frightening than Voldemort and Bellatrix?"

Hermione replied with just raising an eyebrow. Harry's expression turned solemn.

"That was a stupid question, wasn't it?"

Next to Hermione, Fleur chuckled. "It will be fine," the blonde wrapped an arm around Hermione's shoulder reassuringly, "Ginny might be angry at first but she loves you enough to forgive you. Don't you worry, my love, I will not let that fiery redhead unleash her wrath upon you."

"Fleur, if you can protect good ol' Hermione here from my wife, I will recommend your name to be an Auror Captain, what do you think?"

"Well Harry, while that is a very tempting offer, I have to say that I – "

Fleur's reply was cut off by a low, menacing growl, originating from the stairs.

"I don't know who you are and I don't even care one bit, but you break into the wrong house," Ginny's threatening voice reverberated around the house. "Just in case you're some clueless, bumbling idiots, this is Harry Potter's house. Yes, that's right, turn around now and begone before you start screaming for my husband to save you from my hands. I will literally rip your guts out before any Auror can save you. So scram!"

Hermione exchanged glances with Fleur. The blonde's dancing eyes were trying to hold back mirth. The brunette rolled her eyes.

"Um, babe? This is me, your husband," Harry said carefully, tentatively taking a step forward.

"My husband never comes home early," Ginny said coldly. "How dare you try to impersonate him! I'll skin you alive!"

"Wait, wait, it's really me, I'm with Hermione and Fleur," Harry said hurriedly, panic on his face. Fleur placed her body between Hermione and the general direction of the stairs, shielding the brunette from the possibilities of Ginny being trigger-happy.

"He commands trained, skilled warriors but his wife commands him," Fleur whispered, eliciting a giggle from the brunette.

Harry threw a dirty look at them both, telling them he heard Fleur's words.

"Why would you be here with Hermione and Fleur? Do you think I'm an idiot?" Ginny's voice was full of suspicion.

"My favourite boxer is the one with purple dinosaurs holding sunflowers," Harry tried to say as softly as he could.

Hermione and Fleur's stifled guffaws earned them another dirty look from Harry.

Ginny did not reply to Harry identifying himself but a thud and a grunt later, a worried-looking, slightly dishevelled Ginny barged into the room, marching straight to her husband. Hermione chuckled. No matter her age, the redhead would not stop climbing and jumping over any and all staircases.

"Is everything alright, Harry? Why're you here? Has the Ministry blown up or something?" Ginny fussed all over her husband. Her attention then turned to the other couple who were watching the redhead. "Are the two of you alright? Is Hermione okay, Fleur?"

"I can answer for myself, you know," Hermione rolled her eyes.

Harry grabbed Ginny's arm gently before the redhead marched over to Hermione to inspect the brunette.

"Gin, come with me," he said quietly, pleading. "I need to tell you something – it's related to Hermione. But I need to speak with you in private first before you harass her."

"I do not harass Hermione!" Ginny protested indignantly. But she let her husband dragged her away upstairs without a fight. As they disappeared from the room, the redhead shot Hermione a concerned look.

Fleur led the anxious Hermione to the couch and they cuddled there in silence. The brunette clung tightly to her beloved, a million thoughts running through her mind. What would she do if Ginny yell at her later on? That would not be too bad considering the alternative of Ginny hating on her forever. If that happened, what would the brunette do? Could she win her best friend's affection back?

"You're thinking too much, it's deafening," Fleur said softly. "I can hear your thoughts, Hermione."

The brunette looked up, surprised.

"Not literally," Fleur added. "But please, stop overthinking things, my love. It won't do you any good."

Hermione exhaled and closed her eyes. Fleur was right. Worrying will not change anything – it was all in Harry's hands now.

"You've had years of practice of winging it, Hermione," Fleur murmured, giving a reassuring kiss on the brunette's forehead. "You'll be fine. Please, stop worrying about it, alright? I don't want you to get another attack."

The brunette nodded. Fleur was right. She must calm down and not give in to the sinking, depressing, hopeless feelings that were gnawing at her. Hermione tried to distract her mind and think of happier thoughts. But she was momentarily at a loss. What kind of thoughts would make her happy? Passages from the timeless favourite of hers, Hogwarts: A History, did nothing to soothe her worries. The thoughts of books did not brighten her at all. She frowned. Once this whole thing was over, she should go see a psychiatrist to help her reacquaint with books.

Hermione's mind wandered to the warmth against her skin, the gentle comfort exuding from the creature beside her.

Of course.

Fleur.

The one person who managed to squeeze through the crevices of her heart and made a home there. Thinking of Fleur did cheer her up considerably.

Hermione nuzzled Fleur's neck.

"I love you," the brunette whispered.

"And I you," came the reply.

"Have I told you that the both of you managed to be disgusting and adorable at the same time?" Ginny asked conversationally from the doorway. She strolled in casually, her husband a step behind her.

Hermione tried to gauge the redhead's mood, but Ginny gave nothing away. Harry refused to look at Hermione, making her anxiety skyrocket. Fleur, sensing this, made soothing sounds at the brunette's ears.

"Um Gin, I can explain – "

But Ginny cut off the brunette, pouncing on the terrified woman and hugged her tightly.

"By Merline's balls, I swear I will personally hunt that toad myself and skin her alive," Ginny was in her pissed off, battle mode. "I will tear off her eyes and stuff burning charcoals into her eye sockets. I will tie her up, and with her skin flayed off, I'll drown her in a bathtub full of salt water. I'll break her bones one by one. I'll cut off her nose. I'll –"

Harry cleared his throat.

"Well yeah you get the gist of it," Ginny rolled her eyes at her retreating husband. She released her death grip on Hermione and sat next to the brunette who was still half-clinging on Fleur.

The brunette studied Ginny's face and saw nothing but worry. There was no hatred or anger directed at her. That frightened Hermione more than it should.

"Are you…angry at me, Gin?" the brunette asked carefully.

"Why would I be mad at you?" Ginny frowned. "I mean, let's see… You ran away and shut off yourself from everyone, making people speculate and wonder whether we've done something to offend you. You're in pain but refused to tell any of us because you distrust us. You lied to us. To me. To everyone." Ginny's calm and expressionless voice freaked Hermione out. The brunette gripped Fleur's hand tightly, asking for strength.

"I'm sorry Gin, it was just – "

"It was just what, 'Mione? That you didn't really think about it? That you overthought it? What is it? Come on, tell me. I want to hear it straight from you."

"I… I was afraid you'd think Voldemort somehow managed to possess me," Hermione answered in a small voice.

Ginny stared at Hermione disbelievingly. The next moment, the redhead laughed. She laughed until her tears came. She clutched her sides.

"For the love of Merlin, you actually said it out loud! That's the second most ridiculous thing I've heard after Harry thought that noseless baldy possessed him," Ginny chortled, wiping the tears away.

Hermione suddenly felt extremely foolish. She looked at the intertwined hers and Fleur's.

"If good ol' baldy is still alive, don't you think Harry would be able to tell? He's lost his ability to speak Parseltongue. Doesn't that tell you something?"

Hermione looked up to Harry in surprise. "What? You've never told me that, Harry."

Harry smiled sheepishly. "I thought my brain was damaged or something. Didn't want to worry you. It was only a couple of years ago, in your absence, that I realised the significance of that. Sorry 'Mione."

"This wart called my husband didn't even tell me until one drunken night, being so miserable, confessed to me about it. You know what? The two of you – no – the three of you of the Golden Trio have communications problem. You shared life and death, yet won't share your worries. You, Ron, and Harry. It pisses me off sometimes. Ron has been having his stupid mood swings ever since you came back and won't admit that he still has feelings for you. Harry tends to drown himself in his work as a penance for not killing Voldemort sooner. Like… who the hell would expect a bleeding underage teenager to defeat a monster? And you, missy, you ran off with your thoughts and became a hermit somewhere. All three of you are selfish pricks. You are more selfish than Pansy and her stupid dictator-like Quidditch training schedules. I couldn't even eat my favourite foods until the season ends!"

"Um, honey…"

"I am not done with my rant, dear husband," Ginny gave Harry a reproachful look and he retreated immediately. She returned her focus on Hermione. "Yes, you are such a selfish prick for not allowing your own friends to help you out when you need it most. You could've died, you ass! Have you ever considered how guilty we'd all feel if you die and we know we're unable to even help you one bit?"

"Sorry, Gin," Hermione tried to make herself as small as she possibly could.

The redhead exhaled. "I don't want your apologies. I want you to get better. Look 'Mione, I am not mad at you. If anything, I'm angry at that stupid pink toad. I'm so sorry I've never really noticed that you're having serious problems, 'Mione. I thought you're just like the rest of us, trying to cope and deal with the war. The horrors we saw, the things we went through…none of us could be fully healed. I'm so sorry, I haven't been a great friend. Harry showed me everything. I'm… please let me make it up to you. I promise I'll be a better friend."

Hermione could not believe her ears. Ginny was not angry at her. In fact, the redhead did not seem to be judging her either!

"So…you're not afraid of me?" the brunette asked, her brilliant mind trying to process that information.

"Oh please, I'm a professional athlete, fit and at the top of my form. You're just a skinny, out-of-shape witch," Ginny rolled her eyes.

Hermione threw herself on Ginny and hugged the redhead tightly, squeezing the life force out of her.

"Thank you, Gin," the brunette whispered. "I won't know what to do if you hate me."

"You're just being silly," murmured Ginny. "I hope this gets into that massive, overworked mind of yours: none of us, none of your friends who've faced death with you, would dare to walk away from your life without a damn good reason. And that reason better be death itself."

Hermione was touched. She was relieved. She still had her friend.

"Now, my hands are extremely itchy and I desperately need to skin a certain pink toad alive," Ginny said in a business-like manner, disentangling herself gently from Hermione's hug. "I am appointing myself as the boss for our current project and I do not accept any dissent because my word is law. Is that understood?"

None of them dared to shake their heads.

"Good," the redhead rubbed her hands excitedly. "Fleur, take your girlfriend away and keep her emotions high. I know a few fantastic adult shops if you need them."

"Wh..what do you mean by that?" Hermione sputtered.

"My word is law, 'Mione, you heard me," Ginny frowned. "Your job, Miss Granger, is to stick to Fleur all the time. And I mean it. All. The. Bloody. Time. Especially if you feel down, understood?"

Without waiting for reply, Ginny returned her focus on Fleur. "Fleur, owl me every day. I don't care if that means you have to walk out of Hermione's property just to send and receive an owl, but I demand news and letters at least once a day. Or else I'll be demanding blood."

In response, Fleur just rolled her eyes elegantly.

"Harry and I will start recruiting and doing whatever else we need to be doing. Sorry, 'Mione, not telling you anything. Just relax and leave it in our hands, alright?"

The redhead then leaned back and, with a sinister smile, whispered, "Let the toad hunt begin!