Slowly the vice that gripped her heart faded and her mind cleared. Lifting her tear-stained face she observed her surroundings, the living room had been completely destroyed by the release of her magic. But she felt nothing for it. No concern over her lack of control, no heartache at the knowledge that what had remained of her parents had been reduced to debris or fear that the neighbours would come knocking.

Movement was difficult and therefore slow as she struggled to get to her feet. Keeping a bloodied hand pressed against her bandaged chest she pushed herself to stand upright. Teetering dangerously on weak legs she made her way to the upstairs bathroom.

Hissing in pain Hermione gently unwound the bloodied bandages from her body. Slowly the bloodied wounds revealed themselves as she loosened the bandages before allowing them to slip from her body and fall to the tiled floor. Empty brown eyes stared into the mirror above the sink and a horrible feeling of detachment gripped her in its cold clutches.

She noticed coldly that she didn't recognise the person staring back at her. Discoloured scars covered her skin. Warm blood trickled from partially opened cuts and stained her skin a nasty red. Her bones protruded against her skin while lithe muscles were sharply defined by the lack of fat on her bones. Disgust welled within her at the pathetic creature that looked back at her.

She glared at her reflection before acting on impulse and sending her fist into the mirror. The glass shattered and sliced into her hand but she didn't care for the small wounds, the stinging sensations that accompanied them or the throbbing that pulsed beneath her skin.

A broken smile formed on her lips as she stared at her distorted reflection.

A fitting image of you Muddy

Ignoring the stinging sensation of Bellatrix's thoughts she glanced down at her bloodied hand and felt nothing as she watched blood seep from where glass shards had embedded themselves in her skin.

Bringing her hand up to her face she reached forward and removed the small, bloodied fragments with her fingers. Her eyes sluggishly turned towards the wand that she had placed on the edge of the sink. Fleur's wand. A dull stabbing sensation attacked her heart at the thought of the blonde Veela. Reaching forward she wrapped her uninjured fingers around the slender wood before gripping it firmly and pointing it towards her injured hand.

"Episkey" she commanded, her voice dull and raspy. She watched as the wounds on her hand slowly sealed themselves shut, leaving in their wake perfectly healed, unscarred skin. If only the rest of her would heal in the same fashion. Pointing her wand at her torso she once again muttered the spell. Some of the wounds sealed themselves shut, whereas others remained much to her frustration.

She didn't have the necessary ingredients to create healing potions so she guessed that she was going to have to do this the Muggle way.

Putting the wand back on the sink she turned towards the shower. Within minutes she was under the hot spray of water. Her remaining cuts stung as the hot water poured over them but she paid it no mind.

She needed to focus on what she was going to do now that she couldn't return to her friends or Fleur. She needed to find a way of blocking Bellatrix from her mind, needed to research more on the Horcruxes, needed to help Harry in some indirect way so she wouldn't be a danger to him.

But most importantly she had to learn to let Fleur go. No matter how horrible the idea was Fleur deserved better than her and she...she just had to accept that.

Blue eyes slowly opened and for a few moments ignorant bliss enveloped the young Veela. But all too quickly the bliss was taken from her and cruel reality returned to her. Her eyes widened as she realised that whatever she was lying on was soft and warm with a steady thumping noise echoing from inside it.

Lifting herself up, she observed the sleeping Weasley with surprise. He was sound asleep on his back without a shirt on and the duvet pulled up to his hips. Frowning she tried to recall what had happened between them. It was only when the cold air danced over her skin that she noticed that she was missing her clothes. She physically froze as her eyes widened.

Her thoughts were going at a thousand miles a second as she tried desperately to recall what had happened before she had fallen asleep. She remembered seeking comfort in Bill's arms, sobbing into his arms as the disgust and hurt flowed through her. He had kind to her and held her until the tears stopped. Then...then she confessed what had happened and Bill had gone red with rage but had remained silent.

Then...she had confessed to feeling dirty and unattractive. And then he kissed her. Oh Merlin she had...they had...

Images flashed in her mind. To Bill kissing away her heartache and self-hate. To them stripping each other of their clothes. Her desperate need to forget what had happened between her and 'Hermione'. Her desire to feel loved and less alone.

"Fleur?" asked a sleepy voice. Her head snapped to the side and looked at Bill. He must've noticed the horrified look on her face because he immediately sat up and pulled her to him.

"What's wrong? What's wrong Fleur?" he asked in concern. Pushing him away she pulled the duvet to her chest to cover herself as Bill looked on in confusion and concern.

"Fleur?" he asked quietly but her mind was still working through her memories. She remembered how Bill's kisses had failed to ignite the spark in her skin that Hermione's had always done. How when he pleasured her body it had felt nice but nowhere near as exciting as Hermione's touch.

"I want you to leave Bill..." she whispered. She kept her eyes downcast so to avoid the hurt look on Bill's face. She still refused to look at him as he got up from the bed and dressed himself.

"I love you Fleur...and I won't ever hurt you the way that she did" even as he whispered such sweet words to her before he closed the door behind she still refused to look at him.

"'Ermione did not 'urt me..." tears welled in her eyes as the various consequences of her actions flashed across her mind. If Hermione found out it would destroy the young Gryffindor completely and Fleur's heart ached.

How could she have betrayed Hermione so easily? At least the brunette had tried to fight against Bellatrix's influence but she had simply jumped into bed with the nearest person because her body had been used and abused by Bellatrix, not Hermione.

Pulling her knees to her chest she buried her face into her legs and sobbed. She had never felt so pathetic in all her twenty years. A moment of weakness would cost her Hermione and she couldn't bare it.

Yes she had done nothing to stop Hermione from leaving but she had been consumed with shock and self-loathing she couldn't even think. But what had been going through Hermione's mind as she apparated away from her? As she had laid there selfishly thinking about herself her love had been distraught and in agony and she had done nothing to help her.

And now, because of her actions, she would only bring more pain to the young brunette's life.