Thank you all for the consistent reviewing :) seriously you all really inspire me to carry on with this story.

Fleur refused to acknowledge Bill as he entered the living room. Standing up from where she had been seated on the couch she turned and started walking towards the exit.

"Fleur how long are you going to ignore me?" the blonde Veela heard him but merely continued to walk out of the room and into the kitchen. Bill released a frustrated sigh and followed after her. For the last week Bill had tolerated Fleur avoiding him or giving him the silent treatment. Enough was enough.

Leaning against the kitchen doorframe Bill frowned at Fleur with annoyance as she took to staring out the kitchen window, just so she wouldn't have to look at him. The cottage was empty now, except for Bill and Fleur. Harry, Ron and Luna had vanished after secret discussions and none of them had left a trace much to the Order's frustration.

"I won't tell you I'm sorry Fleur, not for what happened between us" Fleur's brow furrowed at his words but she remained silent still. Bill sighed before closing his eyes. He didn't understand what Fleur could be angry about. Hermione had done nothing but hurt her and yet Fleur still clung on to the idea of being with the young witch.

"She doesn't deserve you. She never has..." this caught Fleur's attention and suddenly Bill was on the receiving end of angered blue eyes.

"Do not talk about 'Ermione zat way" her voice was scratchy from the lack of use the past week but the conviction in her tone forced Bill to think before he spoke. Bill's frown deepened as his legendary Weasley temper began to simmer beneath his skin.

"She hurt you Fleur" he ground out. He didn't understand. He probably never would but he knew that the night he had spent with Fleur was the best night of his life, he loved the French woman with all his heart and he refused to stand by and watch her waste herself on someone such as Hermione. The girl was a broken shell of her former self and he doubted that she would ever recover from the scars.

Fleur shook her head in denial which only irritated Bill further. How blind was a Veela's love?

"She's a traitor Fleur. She has a direct connection with Bellatrix Lestrange for Merlin's sake! How do you know that it wasn't Hermione acting of her own accord when she hurt you? How do you..." but he didn't have time to finish his rant. Fleur snapped her head in his direction and effectively growled at him angrily.

"Don't you dare call 'Ermione a traitor" she snarled. Bill's eyebrows rose in surprise at the ferocity in Fleur's glare but it only took a moment for him to recover from his surprise and glare back at her.

"How can you be so sure she's not!" he barked. The memories of Hermione lying helpless and in pain danced across her mind and merely sparked her anger further.

"You don't know what you are talking about William! You did not see 'er lying on ze floor in agony, begging me to leave 'er even zo 'er wounds were reopening in front of me. I foolishly left 'er alone to 'andle somezing zat was taking over 'er! She was 'urting and I left 'er alone! Even in pain she was trying to protect me and I...what I've done...what we've done. It will kill 'er Bill"

Bill stood and watched the anger bleed away from Fleur's eyes only to be replaced with a horrible guilt. But his own anger refused to budge and if anything Fleur's disregard for what they had shared that night angered him further. Fuck it.

"I didn't force you into bed Fleur. You did that on your own. I can't just stop caring about you no matter how much time you waste on your precious little traitor but it's clear to me that you obviously don't love her as much as you say you do otherwise you never would've slept with me!"

Fleur refused to look up at as Bill turned and walked away from her. Her heart and her thoughts clouded with doubt and confusion.

She had not left her house in what felt like months when it had only been one. The last time she had been outside was when the pain of her injuries had become next to unbearable and she had to visit the local chemist to buy painkillers. It had been easy enough to trick the clerk into thinking she had paid for the powerful painkillers; just a quick flick of her wand when no one was looking and a memory charm was placed on him.

When she found the energy to move, she walked around the house in a pair of loose fitting jogging bottoms and a loose black t-shirt. The clothes use to fit her perfectly but now they just hung off her thin frame but she couldn't manage anything remotely smaller for the horrible pulling sensation in her back forced her body to ache with pain.

The pain was constant though noticeably less intense, whether that be from healing or from the medication Hermione didn't really care. Bellatrix's thoughts continued to invade her mind but slowly they were becoming infrequent. Hopefully it was due to the research and practice Hermione was putting into learning Occulmency.

Sitting in the middle of her bedroom with a large book opened out on her lap Hermione scanned the written words with interest. Various books were scattered about the bedroom, some open, some closed. For the last week she had been searching through the books she had left in the house for anything on the subject of Occulmency. Harry had told her about the lessons he had been forced to endure with Snape and had told her what the potions Master had told him.

That the art of Occulmency began with clearing one's mind. And so she practiced, and practiced, and practiced. At times it was easy, when Bellatrix was obviously preoccupied with something other than tormenting the young teen. At other times it was the most difficult exercise to work on when Bellatrix forced memories and horrid thoughts of torturing Fleur or the others to flitter into Hermione's mind.

But she needed to do this.

If she were to be of any use in the war against Voldemort and his Death Eaters then she needed to fight. She needed to learn to shield her mind from Bellatrix so the demented witch would never again be able to take control of her. Perhaps if there was enough time she could find a way to exploit the bond and figure out what Voldemort was planning through Bellatrix.

Never again would she be responsible for hurting Fleur or anyone else she loved.

And so she struggled through the days, tending to her slowly healing body the Muggle way, fighting against the constant onslaught of self-hate and disgust that chipped away at her broken heart and trying with all her supposedly brilliant intelligence to learn Occulmency.

But the nights were worse than the day's struggles. She barely slept. Either kept awake by the physical pain of her injuries or by her own memories. It was at night when all of the horrors came back to haunt her, every single one of them. And when she did manage to sleep the nightmares ravaged her weak mind.

Every day was a fight to not give in to hopelessness and despair. And every day the fight grew harder and harder for her.