people can take everything away from you..

but they can never take away your truth…

but the question is -

can you handle mine..?

~My Prerogative by that gosh darn Britney Spears

vi. fragments of memories

And as it was, Fleur and her other Slytherin companions were sitting in their compartment, quite uninterrupted save for the two malicious stares they received from Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger on their way to their compartment with Harry Potter. Fleur continued to observe the city of London racing by as the train pulled out of the station, oblivious to all except for her own private thoughts.

Ron's eyesight was directed at a smug looking Draco, while Hermione's was directly on Fleur, who really couldn't care less about what the girl had to say, visually or not. Pansy noticed the looks and chortled loudly just as the three Gryffindors were out of sight.

"Draco, you'd think the blood traitor'd realise that we only laugh at his stupid arse every time he tries to act all tough."

"Yeah, I know. But what difference does it make? An excuse to laugh is good as ever, most especially when the idiot is making himself look, well, idiotic." Draco smiled charmingly at Pansy's burst of laughter. Blaise held back a gag and continued to stay silent.

"And we can't forget about Granger," Pansy pointed out snidely. Draco snorted derisively, still smiling.

"Oh please. Those two just belong together. I can see it now – the ceremony'll be in a ditch in the ground. Not even Mudblood's big hair'll be able to fit in the hole of shit."

"Her hair's actually calmed down a lot." Pansy, Theodore and Draco snorted at the same time, realising the truth in the words but still laughing at them anyway.

"Yeah well, hopefully Black snuffs out Potter soon," Theodore chimed in. Draco nodded sagely and stretched out languidly. "Only a matter of time, ain't it?"

"Sooner rather than later," Draco spat. "Saint Potter… I'll be damned if anyone could ever be so ridiculously famous for doing absolutely nothing. People these days'll worship dung beetles if they found something any real person could ever figure out."

Thus most of the ride was spent with Draco, Theodore, and Pansy doing ridiculous renditions of the Trio, as well as hopeful imitations of Black murdering a helpless Harry. Crabbe and Goyle guffawed when appropriate and Blaise and Fleur chose to not pay them any attention. It was routine for Fleur to sit through their banter as a favour for Draco – she purchased all of her school supplies every morning of September first and rode the Hogwarts Express back to the castle with her so-called chums.

After more hours of their ceaseless banter and Fleur feeling the modest joy of watching the thunderstorm ravage out the window diminish slightly, the train began to come to a stop. Blaise and Fleur remained calm, but the rest of the compartment froze up considerably and looked completely terrified. The lights began to flicker on and off, finally cutting out completely once the screeching of the railing ended. Fleur watched calmly as the water on the window began to congeal, the cracking sounds making her crack her own neck subconsciously to rid the cricks. Draco watched her with a fearful glint in his eyes.

A horrible feeling of foreboding set in the pit of Fleur's stomach while she ignored the whimpers of her friends and checked for her wand in her robes pocket. Once she was sure it was there, she stood up gracefully and made her way out of the compartment. Blaise followed after her, both of their faces set and minds calm while they patrolled the dark corridors. Fearful faces watched them pass, both of them mere silhouettes against the cloudy gray light emanating from the frozen windows.

Fleur's heels barely made any sound against the floor of the red steamer, nor did Blaise's flat soles. Unnatural chills attempted to overtake them both as they continued, Blaise following loyally after his friend who seemed to have an unspoken attraction leading her somewhere. The silence was broken only from the muffled cries from the compartments and their own steady breathing. Their breaths began to come out as vapour, complimenting their cold demeanours perfectly while they continued to tread with courageous poise. A strange need, however subtle, rose inside of Fleur while she kept walking, aware of her freezing legs underneath her skirt but trying her best to ignore them anyway.

Something or someone was calling for her…somehow.

"Fleur," Blaise spoke quietly, still stern as they passed numerous compartments with horrified students.

"Hm?"

"Where exactly are you going? Not that I mind; just curious, is all. Something doesn't feel right."

Fleur shrugged and merely continued to walk, and Blaise followed after her without a word. She stopped abruptly, however, in front of one compartment in particular when she heard someone crying out for her. The sound of their stomping footsteps from their running mimicked her heartbeats once she finally felt power sapped from her. Try as she might to hold on to it, something was determined to keep it from her.

"FLEUR!" Draco yelled vehemently, fear dripping from his voice. Fleur set her jaw and kept her ground, listening intently on…something… "Fleur are you mad? Don't you know there are—"

A hiss of a cat and a scream pierced her ears, making her turn on the spot; Draco fell to the floor with a resounding thud and a scream of his own while Blaise dashed off. Fleur kept her ground, hand gripped over her wand, but she couldn't move her limbs at all even if she tried. The sight, the smell, the memories – they rendered her immobilised.

It was as if her very own weaknesses, not the freezing, decayed hand of a Dementor attacked her thin neck with a vice-like grip. A more sound absence of feeling, hope, and life as she knew it entered her; the pitiful feeling thrived on her vain attempts at keeping her composure. It was all she could do; nothing more, even while the cloaked figure lifted her right from her heeled feet, feeling completely thrilled, in its own twisted way, from the pain in Fleur's heart.

Any and all feeling in her skin was frozen. She herself was; Fleur willed her body to go numb to prepare for…anything. But the ice soon broke completely when she was sent flying through the compartment window, eliciting a scream from Hermione and a wild cry from Ron.

The Dementor held Fleur up high, the back of her rigid neck against the shelves overhead. Its hollow breaths, the stabbing chills, and the deficiency of control – they made her forget where she was. She was consumed with a fear that still refused to show in her desolate eyes. Breathing was becoming more and more difficult to come by. Defending herself was pointless. Her horrible memories were crippling her; stifling her even more than the cold and the…shame? The shame that she couldn't do a thing…

That's what it was. Fleur was ashamed… The only pride she had left was in her equally freezing eyes, even though she felt everything being sucked from her. Her very beauty was leaving her, making her gaunt with the reality that she could never escape her past.

A mere…puppet… That's all she was. And this…this thing was dangling her, pulling her strings and rendering her completely useless… Her consciousness was leaving her; the screams and darkness were taking over. All those years of training…and for what…? To still look like weakness incarnate in front of Draco…?

In front of Hermione…

Weeks passed, October was soon edging into November, and Hermione was at her wits end with her…arrangement with Fleur.

Hermione was sitting cross-legged on Fleur's bed right next to her as the quarter Veela lay under the duvet. She was biting her lip worriedly, confused and concerned as to why Fleur's health was deteriorating so rapidly. Fleur was watching her with heavy lidded eyes, her hand in both of Hermione's. That night was a simple one for the two – they were simply up, talking. Hermione was extremely grateful that Fleur seemed to trust her with most things as opposed to weeks ago.

But it seemed as if ever since their first bath together, and they had plenty more after that, that Fleur's hallucinations became extremely spontaneous and confusing for poor Hermione. She had no idea what to do most of the time, especially when Fleur began shouting at imaginary threats around her room. Fleur was also prone to sleeping for long, unusual amounts of time, and it left Hermione quite disoriented and frazzled. Nearly three days passed at one point when Fleur didn't wake at all. Hermione was so distressed that she ended up in tears, and that's when one of the more…interesting hallucinations began.

Now, every time Fleur hallucinated, it went a little something like this –

Hermione skipped going to Hogsmeade with the others that day and chose to stay in with Fleur. It was nightfall by the time Fleur's eyes characteristically went out of focus. Hermione was sitting upon the bed, Fleur lying underneath the duvet; all was silent except for Fleur's hitched breathing. She was looking at Hermione with a strange dark tinge in her eyes; one that shot spasms of unknown and unfamiliar questions, feelings, and wonders through the younger girl's body. Fleur could almost feel them while she gently tugged Hermione's hand, a minute frown upon her visage. Hermione swallowed and leaned in, slowly…

Unabated questions continued their course, and Hermione was extremely befuddled when Fleur cupped her face in her warm hands. There were vestiges of moisture upon her palm, the warmth from Hermione's hands in hers had accumulated as such, but it only made Hermione's breath hitch ever so slightly. This proximity of their faces was no longer new or unfamiliar to the Gryffindor; Fleur seemed to enjoy the closeness for some far off reasons.

But now when Fleur held Hermione's face close, so close that Hermione had to either cross her eyes or focus on one or the other of Fleur's eyes to look at her properly, something different happened. This time when Fleur held her, Hermione heard the Frenchwoman's slightly accented murmur to straddle her. And so Hermione obediently did so, the shifting of duvet, sheets, and legs further pronouncing the worry in Hermione's eyes and the strange dark haze in Fleur's. And Fleur continued to hold on to what Hermione's eyes were giving her. Hermione was hypersensitive of how long Fleur's manicured nails were; they felt like home upon her warming face. The gentle pressure of Fleur's digits felt even more comfortable to her.

Breaths picked up dangerously. Scents were picked up; Hermione noted that Fleur still smelled of chocolate. Even her warm breaths through her parted mouth smelled of the sweet. Hermione's confusion began to settle in the pit of her stomach, churning into a very warm, unfamiliar vapour within. Fleur's eyes were so deep with…longing, perhaps? Hermione didn't know. But she felt like she could have fallen in them, had Fleur's lithe hands not been keeping her stable. Hermione knew she could not move, for Fleur may have twisted her head about dangerously. The last thing Fleur needed was to experience that dreadful pain in her head for the first time on Hermione's shy account.

The fringes over Fleur's eye were shimmering, reflecting any scraps of light in the room. They were reflecting so much that Hermione may have seen herself in them. She felt her own fear and uncertainty, and utter confusion about whatever else it was that she was feeling. Hermione supposed that she was simply flattered that Fleur was so comfortable with her. Fleur was beginning to become something of a best friend from how much they spoke of themselves, but Hermione knew that her friend slyly avoided speaking of her life before Hogwarts, her life outside of Hogwarts, or anything if not her current thoughts on the matters Hermione spoke of. Fleur was her shrink of sorts. A female best friend.

A female who, Hermione realised quite late, was very near the point of kissing her. Their lips were not prodding the others', but Hermione felt her own began to accumulate a bit of warm moisture from Fleur's saccharine breaths. It wasn't until Fleur began to speak, her tones low and husky, that Hermione nearly fell right into the inviting embrace of Fleur's lips…

"You're so beautiful… So beautiful… How did I never notice you before…? You snuck up on me…"

Hermione only barely kept her face from flushing in between Fleur's palms. The cerulean gaze upon her hadn't lost its intensity, despite the eyes still being out of focus. Hermione calmed down and had to remind herself that Fleur was simply hallucinating… Hallucinating… Despite how completely and utterly flattered Hermione was, it was just a hallucination.

That's all it was…

"Did I really…?"

"Mmm…you did… I didn't think that this was possible…"

"What do you mean…?"

"I never thought it was possible for me to…lose myself completely… I'd always gazed but never got too close… Only once did I come so close to kissing you…"

"I'm… I'm here, aren't I…?"

"Yes… But I can't find my heart… It ran away."

"It did…?"

"It did… You see… I never knew the meaning of beauty until I laid eyes on you… And now you're here, we're here, and my heart's gone… far, far away from racing so much… It's that thing you do to me…"

"Fleur…you… You're… I mean… I-I don't know what to say…"

"Say no more… I'm still trying to look for my heart… I think I know where it might be…"

"Where…?"

"In your eyes… Why do you think I love gazing into them so much…? Mmm…"

A strange variation of the aforementioned details happened each and every time, but not once did their lips ever meet. Hermione was watching Fleur with inattentive eyes, thinking back to all of those nights of said hallucinations. But Fleur never seemed to remember them. Hermione wasn't sure if she was comfortable with this or not, nor had she told anyone else. She wrote them down in the journal Madam Pomfrey supplied her with for medical purposes only, and the nurse knew to keep the information confidential. They were scheduled to have a sit down and discuss Fleur's progress thus far in a few days' time.

Before Fleur could speak up about Hermione's unusual silence, the Gryffindor spoke up and blurted out the first thing that came to mind. She didn't even think if she'd regret it or not. Not even after she'd uttered it so softly, just loud enough for Fleur to hear.

"Have you ever almost kissed anyone before?"

Fleur narrowed her eyes but Hermione didn't dare falter; she knew how to deal with her friend now. Showing her fear would never do. The consequence was that Hermione seldom became fearful around Fleur, whom she was conveniently around for most of her time. There were still lingering tendencies of shyness that were hard to overcome, but Hermione pushed them to the side and proposed to let them be.

She had nothing to hide from Fleur; she told her nearly everything that came to mind. And though Fleur only offered her opinions on the matters, never chiming in with her own experiences or random sentiments, Hermione was sure that, in time, this would change.

For now, this was how their friendship worked. And Hermione was ever so grateful for at least that much.

"Once."

"Really? When?" Hermione tried to play off her somewhat disappointment in the validity that Fleur had no recollection of her hallucinations. Fleur appeared not to have noticed, and Hermione was relieved.

"Second Year."

"Who was it?"

"Why the sudden interest in my non-existent love life, hm?"

"I don't know… I was just wondering, is all…"

"You want to know more about me, is that it? Just in general?"

"Well, yes… I mean, I realise that most of the time I'm just going on and on about myself. I'm sure you're sick of hearing about my family and the Weasleys and Harry and Ron. We never talk about your family—"

"They're all dead."

"W-well…" Hermione felt stings of sympathy etch her eyes while she continued to observe Fleur's still passive expression, completely hurt and blindsided by the sudden confession. She decided to not brood on the surprise and instead quickly move things forward… "I wouldn't know that… I-I… I mean… I'm sorry for your loss, and… Well… I'm here if you want to…if you want to talk about it…"

Hermione castigated herself for nearly stuttering at every interval, but she wondered in vain if she was more thrown by how calm Fleur was or the horrifying fact that she was an orphan. Such a thought had never occurred to Hermione, and she hoped and prayed mentally that Fleur would finally open up completely tonight.

It was yet another assumption on Hermione's part that stabbed her senses and made guilt well up inside of her. It stung, it burned; it nearly drowned her in a white hot pool of ignorance. This must have been one of the things Malfoy had hinted to, and only continued to hint about whenever they went on their rounds together. Granted, the boy and his friends were increasingly less hostile to her, and only her, for reasons quite beyond her grasp.

Perhaps Fleur would open up tonight if, perhaps, she was the reason why her friends had stopped treating Hermione so horribly. They were selective in ignoring this rite for Harry and Ron, and Harry was vaguely suspicious of why Hermione was receiving special treatment. Ron was increasingly silent for reasons unknown, but she had learned to ignore him.

While Hermione continued to fidget with Fleur's hand in both of hers, Fleur sighed deeply and fixed her tired gaze on Hermione's hands while she spoke softly.

"It's a long story."

"I don't mind. I'd… I'd like to hear it… I promise I won't tell a soul if you don't want me to."

"Draco's the only one here who knows."

"He sort of hinted that…"

"He wants me to tell you."

"I'm not going anywhere, Fleur… I won't be scared away that easily. He thinks that I will be if you tell me."

"Fine. But there's something you should know first."

"I'm listening."

"I'm not eighteen."

"You're seventeen? That'd make sense, since you told me your birthday is August seventeenth…" Hermione didn't understand what the big deal was.

"No. I was seventeen in our Fourth Year."

It took a second longer than normal for Hermione to register this new information. Her face distorted into an expression of genuine shock; her heart may have even started racing from the news. She'd always noticed that Fleur clearly looked more mature for her assumed age… But… How was that even possible…? Fleur was clearly bright, and the only way for her to be as old as she was, was if she'd flunked a year or two. But that didn't make any sense!

"F-fourth? S-so does that mean that now you're…"

"Twenty, yes. Yes… That's exactly right…"

On the eve of her fourteenth birthday, there sat Fleur, alone in the small room, statuesque while she waited for her visitor. The orphanage in which she resided was cold, desolate, unappealing – something she'd gotten used to over her near five years of residency in the building. She sat facing the only window in the room leading out to where she could only sneak out to when she got lucky. One hand was in her pocket, lazily running a finger across her forbidden instrument.

Her clothes were strangely stylish and out of place for the institution. No one suspected that she snuck out frequently and purchased her own clothes. Of course she'd inherited all of her family's money… But what did it matter if she had no family? The emptiness she felt at the thought had always stayed with her, adding an intimidating edge to her features. It never left her, just like her memories of Draco. Her younger companion was most likely her only friend in the world. She wished him well.

Just as she held back a nostalgic sigh, she heard a pair of footsteps tread into the room and over to the chair across from her. Fleur wore a look of subtle scrutiny upon her face; the tall old man clearly needed a shave. And when he sat, his blue eyes twinkled to the point of annoyance for her. His long white hair was unnecessary and made him look like quite the laughingstock to Fleur. When the last time it was that she laughed, she'd completely forgotten. With Draco some years ago, yes, but when?

"I am not as humorous as you believe me to be, I assure you." His soft voice gave himself away, and Fleur sniffed while she turned her nose up.

"You're a wizard."

"That I am, Miss Delacour."

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't use Legilimency on me. I've yet to master Occlumency completely."

"Impressive for a witch your age."

"Dumbledore, is it? Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore? You defeated the Dark Wizard Grindelwald in 1945. You discovered the twelve uses for dragon blood, and you work with Alchemy with Nicholas Flamel."

"Why yes. You're well read on me, I see."

"There isn't much else to do here, I'm afraid."

"Tell me what you've been up to."

"Why don't you tell me why you're here first?"

"Tut, tut. I really am sitting on the edge of my seat here, curious about your divulges. However, you do deserve the truth. I have been searching for you for a very long time. Yes… a very long time indeed."

"Why?"

"I have information that the Dark Lord ordered your family to be killed. You see…he fears the Veela and what they are capable of. You're one of the last of your kind in Europe, I'm afraid..."

"And you know about Lucius…?"

"Oh yes… I know, but I have no definite proof that he performed the Imperius Curse upon you and made you kill your family."

Fleur said nothing. She merely crossed her arms and legs, staring straight ahead while she kept her jaw and face set. Dumbledore smiled sadly, taking a moment to give Fleur her needed moment to collect herself. Only deep breaths on her part were heard, routinely keeping her emotions down to a stark minimum.

She remembered how much they all laughed at her. A mere child of nine years old, given her Mother's wand and Imperiused to kill her parents and baby sister… Lucius, the scoundrel; he laughed the loudest, the coldest… She remembered it all. It was all a game to them… Lucius Malfoy even had the gall to laugh snidely once her task was complete and take her in, claiming that the Dark Lord will have his uses for her soon. Fleur accepted, hating her loss of control that night. Hence her training.

Hence the thread of Dumbledore's subsequent question.

"What…did Lucius have you do in his abode, Miss Delacour?"

"Why do you need to know?"

"I wish to offer you a new home. A new place in which to polish your skills. But I need to know what you already do know so that we may take any needed precautions."

"You want me to attend Hogwarts."

"Yes. I would like that very much. But first, as I mentioned, I am curious as to what he had you do there and what you have been doing on your own here. This information will not be given to those who I do not deem necessary. I give you my word."

"Fine. Fine… Lucius drilled me in resisting the Imperius Curse for a year. He said it would tie into my Occlumency training, which he had me go through as well. His real intention was to, I think, keep me from being vulnerable to Voldemort. He never said it outright. His son, Draco… he and I are good friends. We still write to each other."

"I am pleased that you have not been completely sheltered, then. As for Mr. Malfoy, he has accepted his invitation to Hogwarts, if that is any further incentive to you."

"I suppose."

"And may I ask what you have been doing since the orphanage had you taken in?"

"Using my Mother's wand to practise magic. It's registered in France, but not here. No one's been able to track its usage so far. I've also been sneaking out, going to Flourish and Blotts to buy as many books, any books that I can. I've probably bought the entire store by now. The books I've read in their entireties."

"Every single one, really?"

"Even Hogwarts, A History. It's rather dry, you know."

"I apologise. But you are very well read. And I assume that you have been purchasing a multitude of spellbooks?"

"Yes. Charms has piqued my interest considerably, as well as Herbology."

"So it is only coincidental that your name translates to 'flower' in French?"

"You're right."

"Interesting, Miss Delacour. Very interesting indeed. Would you mind showing me a spell or two?"

"Which?"

"A Disillusionment Charm, if you will. Since, as you say, you've an interest in Charms. You may call it your specialty if this is the case."

Fleur finally removed her Mother's wand from her pocket, casting the spell without any need for words. Dumbledore was humbly surprised at the non-verbal mastery, as well as Fleur's fluid perfection with the Charm; as expected, she began to become a chameleon to her surroundings. It felt as though someone had broken an egg over her head, the contents of the egg trickling down and enveloping her in a form of invisibility.

Dumbledore nodded approvingly before Fleur performed the countercharm and continued to sit, waiting for his further instructions. The Headmaster regarded her pensively for a moment before speaking, modestly astounded at her prowess for such a young woman.

"A Patronus Charm is of most interest to me as well, if you don't mind. I am very curious as to what animal yours takes."

His curiosity was answered instantaneously when Fleur performed the Charm and produced a corporeal Patronus in the shape of a sphinx. The silvery feline, a lion with the face of a beautiful woman, curled up at Fleur's heeled feet, watching Dumbledore with a territorial gaze while the old man chuckled and smiled. A symbol of silent strength, guardedness, beauty, and a riddle-like difficulty to master – this was undoubtedly Fleur Delacour.

"You're quite the talented young lady, Miss Delacour. I am simply astounded at what you've managed to achieve for someone of your age. Not many wizards or witches can say they've performed either of those two Charms, even after their final year of schooling."

"It's elementary to me."

"You are quite ambitious."

"You're assuming I'm going to be placed in Slytherin, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Voldemort was in Slytherin."

"He was."

"I'm not like him."

"I don't believe you to be. You have made the conscious decision to hone your skills instead of wasting your life away. You have hoards of talent. So much, even, that I fear students may be afraid if they knew of your skills. You have a dark past, yes. But your sphinx is still staring up at me. She is able to be conjured because you do have happy memories. You have a heart. You are not like Voldemort at all."

"I'll go."

"You needn't anymore convincing?"

"Non. It's better than staying here. Besides, I'm looking forward to seeing Draco again."

"I am glad. But, unfortunately, as much as you will clearly be ahead of your peers, I warn you that placing you as a First Year will be needed. It ruins the Hogwarts experience, I believe, if you skip a few years. Quite honestly, you needn't any schooling at all. Unless all you've studied are spells and Herbology."

"Non. Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Potions, theory of all branches of magic… But I haven't touched Divination."

"Oh? And why is that?"

"I rather detest it."

"I see." Dumbledore chuckled and watched as Fleur finally dismissed her sphinx and pocketed her wand. "We will need to buy you a legal wand, I'm afraid."

"Ollivander doesn't make wands with Veela hair cores."

"No, but we may purchase your wand in France where I am sure they do. I will have the wand registered here, however. Your Mother's wand is a fine instrument, but it is not unique to you. Do understand this."

"I understand."

"Very well. And Miss Delacour?"

"Hm?"

"I warn you now that your heritage may be…problematic. Your thrall may not work on me, but others will be susceptible to it. Do take care."

"I know."

"Wonderful. This is the beginning of a grand opportunity for you. Embrace it. I look forward to your progress over the next seven years. And I hope that you make many more friends."

"I doubt I will."

"Ah… Well, the people we treasure the most have an uncanny habit of stumbling upon us unexpectedly. Young Mr. Malfoy is a fine example of this. I pray that you keep that in mind."

"We'll see."

It made sense… It all made sense… Fleur was never on the Hogwarts Express back to London after final term was over… Fleur conjured a lion-like Patronus in front of Hermione before… Fleur and Draco were such close friends… She resisted the Imperius Curse without any effort that day during Moody's lesson, and the recollection of everything made her so angry to the point of dropping the course for that year. But, of course, that wasn't a problem since Fleur was so advanced that it didn't matter anyway…

And now Hermione's worried, teary eyes were searching Fleur's. They were searching Fleur's for any ounce of regret or a tinge of sadness about the situation…but none was there. Fleur merely bore her eyes into Hermione's, obviously trying to read her. Perhaps she was wondering if Hermione was ready to spring up and leave her, never to return.

So instead, Hermione did the only thing she knew how to do – lay down and hold her. Fleur didn't move, but her breaths came about less often and they were much more shallow than normal. Understanding flushed through Hermione's system, so many questions running along with it. She wasn't sure if Fleur really told her all of that to scare her away, or if she genuinely trusted her.

But Hermione could have sworn that Fleur's cheek on her forehead warmed up considerably, and not on account of the occasional fevers she'd been experiencing. Hermione was mindful of the gesture, careful to give Fleur her needed silence, even though she downright wanted to cry. She wanted to break down because of what she'd been assuming for all these years about Fleur…

"I'm sorry," was all Hermione managed to say after near hours of silence.

Fleur still hadn't moved to put her arms around her friend, nor had she shown any emotion. Hermione wondered if she was too cold; too hardened to do so. It was all so much to take in, even for her… She could only imagine how Fleur had been handling it all this time. And to keep it all bottled up…

"I'm sorry," she repeated, "…I understand so much more now, though… We don't have to talk about what you t-told me… but…just know that I appreciate you so much for trusting me with this… I mean it. I promised you that you could feel safe talking to me…you know that… I won't tell anyone. Promise."

"Hermione…"

"Yes…?"

"I really…think you should leave."

"What? You know I can't and I'm not afraid of you. Now what's this about?"

Hermione shifted slightly to look Fleur in the eye when she didn't respond. She wasn't feverish, nor was she hallucinating. Hermione smiled softly and brushed the hair from Fleur's eyes, fully aware of the delicate, warm sting on the tips of her fingers from the Veela's face. That ever familiar, fluttering haze settled throughout Hermione, calming her while she tried to calm Fleur with her own serenity. Fleur had the slightest tinge of worry in her eyes; the most emotion Hermione had ever seen her in her 'sober' stages. She merely assumed that it had to do with what she'd just revealed about herself.

When Fleur merely continued to regard her without a word, Hermione sighed contentedly, moving her head down to place her lips upon the part of Fleur's forehead that she'd just exposed. It was as automatic as blinking to Hermione, and she didn't think twice about the near shiver she'd received from her lips seemingly sapping the heat from Fleur's face before she cradled her friend's head in her arms and lay back down. The softness of Fleur's sheet of hair served as a wonderful pillow, and Hermione nearly felt the cuteness in imagining Fleur's face barely recognisable from a pair of arms wrapped about her gorgeous head.

Their legs were entwined, Fleur was warm enough to keep Hermione warm, and the younger girl did indeed fall asleep rather quickly that night. But Fleur did not.

Fleur actually laid awake that night, never sleeping and hardly blinking, trapped in conscious nightmares.

A few nights later, November had finally come, and Fleur was of course lying down in bed. The lack of mobility was beginning to grate her nerves. The lack of control over her emotions was even more annoying. The sweet irony with the entire situation was irking her to the point of fidgeting impatiently while she waited.

Hermione was out for the night, doing rounds with Draco. Fleur had requested that Hermione not bother herself with coming to check on her, and to simply return to her own quarters once her duties were completed. Hermione seemed apprehensive to oblige to Fleur's request, but she promised she would. Fleur winced at the memory of the concern upon Hermione's face just hours ago.

And the wince turned into a frown with a sigh to go along with it when her expected guest came in shortly after and locked the door behind her. Pansy chewed her lip thoughtfully while she walked over to her friend, neither of them making eye contact while she pulled up a chair and sat at Fleur's side. Her dark eyes were narrowed in a deep concentration on her hands which seemed to have a habit of brushing back her locks to occupy her time.

After more awkward fidgeting on both their parts, a long silence passed between them before Pansy cleared her throat, both of them finally looking each other in the eye as she spoke.

"Well… I'll tell you I'm still pretty surprised you need someone to talk to. Not that I mind. You've just kept to yourself all this time, so something's changed. I'm really worried…"

"You're right… I… I don't understand it myself…"

"How about you explain whatever you can? I've got all night."

"All right… Well… I told Hermione about my past, having to do with Draco. I asked him to tell you, and he said he did."

"Yeah, he did… We can talk about that later. But you really told Granger? She ran off, didn't she?"

"No… No…"

"Were you expecting her to?"

"No… I don't know…"

"What do you mean you don't know…? What's gotten in to you?"

"Hermione…has… Not…not literally but…close to it…"

"Fleur, you're talking nonsense. So, okay, the rest of us aren't thrilled that she's really gotten under your skin, but we still respect her since you do, why I'll never know—"

"She means something to me…"

"She's your friend…"

"No… I… You're my friend. She… I… I feel something different about her…"

"And you don't know what this something is…?"

"It's unknown… But I… I like it… I'm… she's… Pansy, I just—no.. I … I can't even make a sentence…"

Fleur resumed her fidgeting while Pansy gaped at her in shock. That knowing glint was once again in her eyes; the same glint she had when she first noticed Granger's serene indifference towards her and the other Slytherins minus Fleur. Draco seemed to agree with her on the matter as far as she could tell, but they chose not to discuss it for fear of jinxing things.

Pansy privately feared over the situation. She and the others had feared that Granger would claw her way into Fleur's life and take over somehow. It was a petty fear; their only justification for Granger's possible evil plan to cause Fleur's 'accident'.

But regardless if the girl had only the most genuine of intentions, it was still… Granger. The Mudblood who only had two friends for damn good reason, and actually considered Fleur to be her third. Pansy scowled deeply and snorted, trying with extreme difficulty to remember that Fleur was trusting her with this and she needed to at least seem impartial.

"Are you into boys, Fleur…?"

"What?"

"Do you like boys…?"

"Like?" Fleur was baffled. Pansy smirked slightly and shook her head; her friend still had some degree of innocence, and it was extremely endearing.

"Have you ever felt strongly for a boy before?"

"No… Do you mean love?"

"Well, yeah."

"No."

"How about for a girl?"

"No."

"For…Granger?"

"…no."

"Really…?"

"Maybe…"

"Fleur…now try answering the question. I won't get anal."

"Fine… She… I mean, I told her everything and the first thing she did was hold me. She's perfectly comfortable being like that with me. She really trusts me… She's kind-hearted…something I haven't known in years… And she's so…so b-… b…"

"…beautiful."

"…yes. I've been faking my hallucinations all this time, just to get close to her and tell her things that I couldn't bear telling her if she knew it was really me saying it… Pansy, I can't keep doing this… This vertigo or her keeps making me light-headed all the time I've been blushing around her I can't keep track of what I've said under hallucinations or non-hallucination I don't know what's happening to me or why I couldn't stop it and I feel like an idiot and I don't know what to do about this what I feel and I don't even know what it is it's all so new and—"

"Hey! Calm down!"

"Sorry…"

"It's just a crush, Fleur… It'll pass…"

"When? Now? It's not passing—"

"Fleur. Do whatever it is you need to do to get things out of your system, and it'll pass. Trust me. Granger's not worth the effort, even if she is a good friend. It's bloody obvious that Weasley has the hots for her."

"Ginny?"

"No! Well…maybe. But I mean Ron. I don't even know if Granger likes girls. Hell, I don't even know anything about her and that's not going to change any time soon. If you trust her, then fine. You know we're fine with that. But I just can't see you…being with her, Fleur. Even if she does like girls. You can do way better than her. Everyone practically falls at your feet, you know. She deserves to settle for Weasley."

"How do you know that? You just said that you don't know anything about her."

"Fleur, that's not what I meant—"

"No… No, Pansy… I don't even know why I feel like defending her. It's… I feel idiotic…"

"Well like I said – you do what you need to do to get this to pass. It will. Then you can get back to your own life."

Pansy took Fleur's silence as her signal to leave. She nodded curtly to Fleur and took her leave, and Fleur felt her absence mere seconds after she closed the door behind her. Feeling was something Fleur wished was no longer on her repertoire while she closed her eyes, wary of how warm her face felt. She tried to drift off to sleep, but something continued to nag her while she merely stared at her eyelids, seeing nothing but Hermione…

What life did she have before this happened to her? Before Hermione happened to her?