twice as much ain't twice as good…

and can't sustain like one half could..

it's wanting more that's gonna send me to my knees..

whoa, gravity, stay the hell away from me…

and gravity, has taken better man than me..

now how can that be..?

just keep me where the light is...

~Gravity by John Mayer

xiii. gravity

Fleur knew it was all a dream. It was but a dream, a nightmare, a revelation of her psyche – a weak, but still somehow so tender side of her that no one could ever know. It was maddening for her because she would try to wake up but a mad, mysterious force would always keep her eyes closed and mind reeling and imagining and taking her back to that horrible, horrible summer night. Run and hide – two words that she had learned to hate because they were the final two he had uttered. Just take us and leave – she said these, in French. Gabrielle…what could she do other than cry?

Tiny, bloodstained feet stomped the hardwood floor of her dying home whilst she tried to get out of the parlour and get Gabrielle to safety. The stomping was strangely rhythmic, spelling out a song of sedition, helplessness, false courage – no bravery. Her panting in the night air was tangling horribly with Gabrielle's pained crying, making her realise that she couldn't win this if not even her sister felt safe in her arms anymore. Her feet simply continued to run and run and run and run with no destination in mind other than a way to put as much distance as possible between her and the hooded tools that were sent to rip her world from underneath her feet. Her feet that were still bulldozing through the house and storming through, just like her fresh trauma of her parents being tortured so needlessly and horribly. Tears and sobs began to scratch her face and throat, not at all helping the little one in her arms. Fleur was growing frustrated at her inability to do anything right, to fix the situation, or to reverse it all…

After running past room after room down the nearly endless hallway, she heard a long string of laughter echo through her thundering ears. Before she could push the pain of her screaming lungs and heart and legs and feet behind her to speed up, she felt a stab of ice surge throughout, rendering her immobilised. Gabrielle was still able to writhe and scream, but that was immediately remedied with a flick of another Death Eaters' wand soon after. All laws of gravity were defied as the both of them were lifted from their respective places, more laughter ripping and tearing at their ears and making them want to cry even more while they were sent flying at nauseous speeds back from whence they came. The laughter reverberated through the walls more horribly than before when they found themselves, once again, back in the parlour with their parents.

Gabrielle was sent crashing over to her crippled, blood-stained parents. Minor wounds, but just enough to keep them powerless. Fleur was suddenly granted with her Mother's wand from one of the Death Eaters, the rest laughing in glee at her horror-stricken face from being forced to stay rooted to the spot and watch her family suffer. Her home was in shambles, completely ruined; her family lay upon the destroyed couch that she'd spent many a lazy day in her Father's arms. Glass was shattered and scattered throughout, pictures were ruined, walls were seemingly melting; it was as if the entire house had turned into plasma to match the burning shame and sense of loss within. Powerlessness had wrapped its way around Fleur's mind the more and more and longer and longer she was forced to watch the bit of blood trickle down her parents' mouths and realise that their lives, her life, could end at any second. They were being toyed with – a mere game…

The same one who had given her the wand in her hands had shouted something else and Fleur felt another trickle of ice throughout, but this one was different. Much, much more different – she lost the incessant fear nagging the back of her mind and the feel of the sobs that were stuck in the back of her throat. A feeling of innocence, bliss, obliviousness – it all overtook her and she forgot who, where, what she was. A toy, a pawn, a prisoner – that was what she was. A sense of want or need or even awareness was lost upon her while she lost the feel of her very eyes in her once so frightened head.

So real, the voices, mere ominous hisses, in her head were… The voices, telling her to hurt. To maim. To make the ones before her suffer, nicely, painfully… The ones before her would only hold her back in the long run, they said. They will only hinder her, impede her greatness… She is better than them and the voice sounded so sure of this. One day she will be great, and these three would not help her get there. Fleur did not agree, nor did she disagree – that ability was lost upon her. Ability? Awareness? She was aware that she was being told such nice things and that she was watching three others cower before her. She was also aware that she'd been granted a wand. A wand, to help her achieve her greatness. To make up for what she'd lost at that very hour – her pride, her dignity, her innocence, even.

Revenge was exacted upon the three in front of her while her eyes shifted to a horrendously hollow hue of grey; the hissing merely floated the incantation to her mind and she'd began to sever skin, summon blood – the crimson shot from every which angle, cutting the walls red and black and blue and green and pink for all Fleur knew. The darkness and coldness in the house melded into an insatiable fulfilment, merging so wonderfully with their cries and screams to make her stop. A sinister smirk curled about Fleur's face while she continued to sever the ties with her family, their lives, her innocence, her sense of right and wrong; the blood and the screams spattering so nicely throughout the room was so invigorating, the voice said. And it was…it was…

But more needed to be done – finish the job and firmly plant her stronger feet on the world without the heathens before her. Kill and learn how to revel in the accomplishment of ridding the world more and more of all that could ever be in her way to greatness. One brandish of her wand took care of but one, and yet the laughing in her mind and the room flushed her system with warmth – there went her Father. One bellowing cry later, he was gone. And yet another shriek and flash of green light, her Mother. The increasing laughter almost muffled the sounds of her anguish, and she hated that. Or so said the voice. So she moved closer, closer to her sister that was barely blood and bones and still somehow alive and fighting.

Fleur towered over the spasm-wracked form of her baby sister. Blue peered into each other, Fleur not registering that the effects of the Imperius Curse were waning. But, slowly, the realisation did sink in just as her form did into the blood at her feet while she continued to stand rooted to the spot. The wand in her hand continued to point down at her innocent, weak, powerless, defenceless little sister. Her own feelings of powerlessness began to leave her, sapping her slight euphoria and replacing it with a dangerously building waterfall of pain and guilt – now she felt the built-up cries scratching her throat. The realisation at what she'd done, at her revel in the glory, at having lost the cursed game they were all playing; it crippled her. And yet she continued to stand strong, knowing that she had lost. She refused to lose any further.

One of the Death Eaters shrieked at her to hurry up and kill her sister. Hurry…up…? Hurry…? Taking her short life away was something that she'd never consider on her own and here they were, yelling and cackling like it were nothing. They couldn't see the pleading, helpless look in Gabrielle's eyes so far beneath her own. Fleur's were mere empty vessels, knowing that she couldn't do anything. She didn't have the power to spare her sister or even heal her wounds had they gotten out alive. She failed as a daughter, a sister, a human being; she deserved this fate. She deserved to kill and to live with the insurmountable guilt should the Death Eaters choose to spare her. She wished they would… She could see it now, getting down on hand and knee, begging to live, begging for the chance to let her sorrow drown her lest she killed herself first.

So beautiful, beautiful… Beautiful, beautiful Gabrielle could have been. But her life, her happiness, her experiences; they were to end now. Gabrielle seemed to sense her sister's anguish and tried her hardest to crawl to Fleur, obviously seeing the apathy rip at her heart and make her knees tremble. Even after witnessing her sister commit such atrocities, only Gabrielle, sweet, sweet, innocent Gabrielle could read her haggard sister and realise that she didn't mean it. She didn't want to do it. Her understanding nearly tore Fleur's heart to white hot shreds; she wanted to fall to the floor and die with her sister now, but she needed repentance for her actions. She deserved it… She couldn't let Gabrielle see her live with her sorrow on her sleeve every day.

End the possibility; rape it, maim it, battle it, snuff it, silence it rip it destroy it kill it – this she did.

Fleur let a torrent of tears rip from her eyes while she brandished her Mother's wand one last time and sent her sister spinning, flying away from her; rigid she was, encapsulated in a coffin of green while one last horribly echoing cry ripped from her while Fleur drank in the last bit of life from her sister's wide, horror-stricken eyes.

A valley of the same echoes settled throughout Fleur as she watched her lifeless sister settle so far away from her, the sea of laughter surrounding her long forgotten; the gorge severed her completely and even more that she finally became aware of what she'd done to her parents. The three of them lay in a heap by the melting walls, the four of them surrounded by the decaying heat that was Fleur's world. Rage and sorrow had begun to blend, and she could only stand and soak and absorb her weakness more and more in the form of a crimson pool at her feet and all around her. The sheen of her hair crashed so horribly with the red and black and nonsense surrounding her. The stench of decay, of loss; all of it nearly made her ill. All she could do was stare at her feet and wish and wish that she could make it so that they'd never have to touch ground ever again. Elevation, a way to run away from it, to make her seem above her grief..

It wasn't long before her heart began to adjust to the pain, freeze it, and let it fester inside of her. The tears had stopped and they refused to come anymore. The hissing and laughter soon stopped scratching at her and she had learned to master her sorrow. The truth that she killed her sister of her own free will, however dire the circumstances were, however, would always be with her; no matter how she tried to word it, it would always spell out a lie did she try to deny it. Acquired desperations, building high…she had to remember that this was just a game.

A nightmare. A beautiful, beautiful nightmare of the night she learned to appreciate, to believe in lies.

Bright and early it was the next morning that Fleur shot up from bed, drenched in a pool of sweat. She pried her trembling mouth open in a desperate attempt to drink the oxygen surrounding her, getting the job done loudly but still not waking the one sleeping next to her. Fleur shut her eyes and slowly eased her panting self from bed without even looking at her; the shame was too much. Her eyes stung and her heart was thundering with the same feelings while she felt the shock of being ripped from her slumber consume her. A terribly head-splintering headache soon threatened to overtake her, but she tried her damndest to ignore it.

Taking a shower was out of the question – she feared that she'd opt to drown herself in lieu of having to think about the lurid recollections. Her nightmares had never plagued her so much, not for years. She wasn't even thinking while she hurried to unbutton her nightshirt and peel it from her drenched body. Her wand quickly remedied her hygiene and appearance before she reached in her packed luggage and hastily picked out the first shirt, pair of jeans, and old Converse that she could find. She quickly rammed the white tight-fitting shirt over her head, she nearly jumped in the black and silver jeans that were slightly ripped at the bottom, and raced to slip in the black and white trainers before Hermione could wake. The last thing she wanted was a concerned interrogation and any sympathy on her part; the very truth that she wanted it and needed it in and of itself was too much to bear.

Fleur quickly left the room and sighed deeply before creeping downstairs, wary of waking anyone else up quite yet; it was barely sunrise. The lightning slowly began to settle down within, but it was difficult to even deal with it while it lasted. Telling herself over and over to not think about it of course made her think about it far more than she liked. Her feet automatically wandered into the kitchen, though her soles felt tiny shocks throughout with each step she took – she was all too used to wearing heels now for her own, almost superstitious, reasons. There was a strong smell of sugar and lemon throughout the kitchen, and Fleur was thankful for it while she sat down heavily at the table, not at all putting the pieces together and realising that the kettle going meant that there was obviously someone else awake other than her.

"Fleur, my goodness, what are you doing up at this hour?"

Fleur kept from jumping in her seat with extreme difficulty while Mrs. Weasley returned to the kitchen and thankfully overlooked glancing at her to tend to the kettle. Mrs. Weasley seemed to think nothing of Fleur's silence while she prepared cups for the both of them, Fleur only speaking up to thank her while she took her cup, Mrs. Weasley sitting right across from her soon after with a warm smile upon her face. When Fleur couldn't strain herself to smile back and merely glanced to the side and almost hid behind her cup, the smile gradually subsided while Mrs. Weasley too took a few thoughtful sips of her tea.

The silence in the room other than swallowing and sipping slowly began to grate Fleur's nerves while she slowly began to emerge from the false security of hiding behind her cup. Seeing as her headache had not subsided, the annoyance was far more pronounced than it should have been. The sounds of eating and drinking were always something of great annoyance to her; her first experience with sitting at the Slytherin table during meal times next to Goyle seemed to say enough.

"Are you all right, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked gently. Fleur felt her head nearly steam from shame and anger for no reason in particular. She pondered lying or explaining everything, neither possibility exactly shining with more appeal than the other.

"No, I'm not." Fleur willed herself to at least keep the strength in her voice apparent if she couldn't brush off her indecision at the moment.

"I understand if you don't feel the need to explain," Mrs. Weasley said with a small smile, "but I do worry about you. Does it have anything to do with your fall?"

"My fall?" Fleur looked affronted. "No, no. I just have a horrible headache at the moment."

"Oh! Well, I see.. but you don't usually wake up this early. And you aren't due to leave for a few more hours." Fleur only seemed to sour even more and Mrs. Weasley looked at her sadly. "Are you sure it's just your headache that's the matter, dear?"

"It's not. And it's not Hermione, either. I apologise but I'm just not a morning person and I don't particularly feel like going back to sleep." Mrs. Weasley seemed satisfied with this answer, though Fleur still grumbled inwardly in irritation.

"Certainly, certainly – I understand completely. I'm also surprised to see you dressed so casually." Mrs. Weasley smiled in between sips of tea, probably knowing that discussing clothing was something Fleur ought to enjoy. "You usually dress differently."

"Better, you mean?" Fleur raised her eyebrow and winced, though Mrs. Weasley seemed to take it as a playfully sarcastic expression.

"Oh no, no," Mrs. Weasley chuckled, "however you choose to dress is quite nice, really. Hermione seems to appreciate your sense of style, either way."

"Yes, she…does."

"Hmm… A brief change of subject, but why did you never choose to attend meetings?"

"I didn't want anyone to see me," Fleur explained calmly, "Dumbledore told me that your children, Harry and Hermione were staying at Grimmauld Place over the summer right when I joined and I didn't want them to get any ideas about my age."

"But of course. The twins told us of your age some weeks ago and Arthur and I sadly neglected to pretend to be surprised about it. As I'm sure you know, Albus and Severus certainly said their fair share of good things about you. The rest of us were quite eager to meet you, and some of us did. You were at the Ministry that night, Albus told us."

"Yes… I met most of the Order formally that night after the battle. Hermione and the others thankfully didn't notice me that night. I suppose I helped that along with a Disillusionment Charm; it would have been problematic had they seen me help them most of the way."

"True, true. But I believe Albus gave you a nice reward for your efforts, did he not?"

"Yes. It's in my room at Hogwarts. Hermione hasn't stumbled upon it yet, but I know I'm going to have to tell her."

"Oh, Fleur…" Mrs. Weasley set her cup down in a gesture of seriousness while she regarded Fleur warmly. "Hermione really is a wonderful young woman. I can't tell you how happy Arthur and I were when we found you two outside that afternoon! She'd written us a few times, telling us how amazing you are and how much you mean to her. It's been such a pleasure, finally meeting you and seeing for ourselves just how right she is. She really is marvellous, isn't she?"

"Of course she is…" Fleur too set her cup down and chose to look down at it, trying to hide from the now concerned look upon Mrs. Weasleys face but clearly failing to do so. "Maybe even too marvellous…"

"Fleur dear why on Earth would you say such a thing? Certainly she isn't suffocating you or anything? Oh, is she? I can assure you she only means well—"

"Mrs. Weasley." Fleur raised her hand and sighed before lowering it once more. "Hermione really is as amazing as you describe and you think her to be; I'm not denying that. But I'm sure that Professors Dumbledore and Snape have told you a little more about me other than simply praise."

"Oh…well, yes… Both Severus and Albus did tell us that you've had a rough past and that you're not exactly one to pretend to enjoy someone's company. But you know that Hermione's just the sweetest thing. She'd never mean you any harm, I assure you!"

"I know that.. I know. I know."

"Fleur, dear, don't tell me that you're frightened…"

"Frightened?" Fleur shot her gaze back up to Mrs. Weasley's equally serious one and clutched her cup in her hands.

"I'm not appalled or surprised by the possibility. You've been on your own for years, and now you finally have a support-system."

"Hermione likes that I enjoy your family." Mrs. Weasley smiled at this but knew very well that Fleur was also trying to change the subject.

"She's so kind-hearted, Fleur. And from what I've observed, she truly cares about you. She wants to help you through anything and everything as best as she can. Please promise me you'll take care of her.. I know she's strong, and so are you, but we're allowed a bout of weakness, most especially in the privacy of those we love."

"…I promise I'll take care of her, of course.. I don't know what else to do other than care for her."

"Oh, that's wonderful! You're just what she needs – a strong, assured, mature woman. And you both have such strong personalities!"

"I've yet to see Hermione's strong personality, I'm afraid. Not much more than glimpses since we've become friends, really."

"Well she is a bit shy sometimes, I suppose. But you're both still adjusting; I'm sure she'll surprise you. I can't express how happy I am for the both of you, and I know you'll make each other so much happier. You just keep your promise, won't you? For her."

"Of course, Mrs. Weasley. Of course."

Fleur's headache had subsided substantially by the time they all arrived on the Platform minutes before eleven AM. She and Hermione were wearing the exact same outfit, Hermione having been pleasantly surprised that this was the surprise Fleur supposedly had in mind for her. In reality, Fleur had lost her passion for trying to change Hermione's very personality, in a way, and instead took Hermione's compliments gracefully that her idea was entirely too sweet and romantic.

As they walked hand in hand through the crowded Platform, through the bit of steam and in between the path that people were slowly parting for them, Fleur held back a wince from the lingering vestiges of her head pains. She barely noticed Hermione had let go of her hand, smiling while she turned to embrace Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and even the twins goodbye. Fleur barely felt her body float along momentarily, the absence of Hermione's warmth entwined with her freezing hand soon making her come to a stop. The voices of everyone around her, of goodbyes, of love, of luck, of life – they slowly faded into nothing along with the steaming of the Hogwarts Express on her right.

Her flat feet felt as if they were suddenly frozen upon the cold ground. A bile of guilt and shame built within, spattering her system while she tried to ignore the recollections of her sins but still failing so horribly. A hiss-like bout of laughter settled in her mind, giggling and cackling and guffawing in such a surreptitious way that she scowled deeply at the emptying path before her. It was as if she'd stopped, and was panting slightly now, because of something that had materialised some yards in front of her while she could only hear the ominous sounds of her increasingly shallow breaths. A body. The body of a man. Certainly not her Father, and this man was certainly much more pale. And bald. And…infuriating. But still so…familiar. The red she saw seemed to be familiar, anyway—

If Fleur thought she was breathing fast before, it was nothing compared to how she was breathing now; two pairs of arms had spun her around to crush her with a hug. The near onslaught was maddening, as was the rest of the sounds on the Platform that finally seeped back into her mind. Fleur took a deep breath when Fred and George finally pulled away and beamed at her, Mr. Weasley soon stepping forward to hug her briefly and wish her well before his wife came to do the same. Fleur barely heard a reminder for her to keep her promise while they pulled away. Bill thankfully wasn't there and Charlie had returned to Romania the evening before.

Even though the snake-like laughter continued to echo slightly in her head, Fleur tried to take in the sight of the Weasleys for a bit longer. She was torn in between hurrying off so as to not appear nostalgic, but another part of her wanted them to see her gratitude. Though she was distracted by her inner troubles at the moment, she tried to ignore them while she stood and regarded them all even after the others had boarded, assuming Fleur was right behind them. Fleur felt the need to say something…anything.

"I.. Well… Thank you. All of you."

"Even us?" Fred grinned.

"Yes, even you," Fleur chuckled, ignoring the searing pain in her head from having done so.

"I must say I'm simply quite honoured," said Mr. Weasley, "it really has been a pleasure meeting you, Fleur. Do take good care of Hermione."

"I already had her promise she would, Arthur," Mrs. Weasley said warmly.

"She did," Fleur said curtly, "I assure you I will."

"Good," said George, "or we may just have'ta come and take care of you if you don't!"

"Right he is," Fred nodded, "Hermione's our little angry angel, she is."

"Angry angel…?"

"Well yeah!" George said. "See, she was always gettin' peeved at us 'n our rule breakin'. I hear she's loosened up quite a bit, though."

"That she has," said Fred, wiggling his eyebrows as he did. Fleur gave them a winning smile and rolled her eyes.

"I'm sure I know what you mean. But anyway, I have to head off."

"You'll come visit us over summer, won't you?" Mr. Weasley asked expectantly.

"Hermione's comin'!" said Fred. "So of course Fleur is too!"

"He's right," Fleur nodded. "I'll see you then."

"Cheers!" said the twins while Mr. and Mrs. Weasley beamed and waved goodbye. Fleur swallowed a foreign knot in her throat while she nodded, still smiling while she returned the gesture before turning to leave. She also had to blink a few more times than normal while she boarded the train, fighting a powerful urge to turn back and look at them one last time.

Once the train finally began to leave the Platform, Fleur was still searching incessantly for Hermione, not really caring about the others possibly being with her. The eyes gaping at her through compartment windows had long started to go over Fleur's head while she continued her search, sighing in frustration for the umpteenth time when she reached yet another dead end and still no signs of Hermione. Fleur ran a frustrated hand through her hair and tried to remain calm, but that was a little hard to do when she was still feeling aggravated about the morning's events so far.

The pain in her head attacked her again, and she nearly shouted out in pain when a compartment door flung open and a pair of hands yanked her inside and shoved her down to sit. Fleur shut her eyes and put a hand over her head while she grumbled under her breath, wondering when Hermione had grown so impatient and reckless, and even how her hands had grown so large..

"Fleur."

Her eyes shot open just as the compartment door closed itself; she lowered her hand and saw that Draco was the one who had addressed her. He and Pansy were sitting across from her, Blaise next to her. The three of them looked as if they were holding back a multitude of nasty expressions that they no doubt wanted to throw at her. Their fake efforts were so blaringly apparent that Fleur nearly scoffed, but she kept her silence.

They all sat in a strained silence for some minutes. Fleur was completely still, boring her eyes into Draco's uncertain grey ones. He kept smoothing his hair down, not at all helping the slick down his head stay in place with his possibly nervous fidgeting. Pansy kept twirling a strand of hair in between her fingers and staring at her clasped ankles. Blaise had his arms folded, clearly torn in between at least looking at Fleur or watching the scenery outside as the train raced past the greenery.

"Are you really not even going to say anything?" Draco asked dryly. Fleur showed no sign of acknowledgement. "Goddamnit, Fleur, make this any harder than it actually is why don't you?"

"I think what he's trying to say," Pansy began quietly, "is that he's…he's…s.. sorry for what he did. And so'm I."

"Me too," Blaise mumbled.

"Yeah, that's right," said Draco pompously. Fleur pursed her lips and the small smile upon Draco's face was lost. "..I'm sorry."

Fleur shook her head and stood, fully intent on leaving but Draco stood in front of the compartment door and looked up at her uncertainly. He only received a leer and promptly flinched; Fleur was extremely suspicious of them all and did not want to even be seen with them ever again for what they did. She wanted to go off on Draco in particular for insulting Hermione so, but she held her tongue and instead held him by the collar to guide him from her path. Draco stumbled over and out of her way, and Fleur barely put her hand on the door to open it before he finally broke his façade.

"So that's how you're gonna be, ah? We finally give you what you want and you blow us off?" Draco said contemptuously. Fleur took a deep, quiet breath and turned to face him, but said nothing. The boy tensed and balled his fists at his side at her silence, obviously looking as if he was expecting a better reaction. "What's wrong with you? Dating that tramp's got you all funny in the head!"

"Draco…" Pansy said warningly, but he paid her no mind. Never mind as to how they'd gotten the validation that Fleur and Hermione were actually an item; Fleur brushed it off to him merely making a correct assumption for once in his life.

"We sat down with you and apologised!" Draco spat. "But you're still acting all stuck-up! What the hell—"

"Draco will you shut up?" Pansy admonished. Draco whipped around momentarily to confront her but Fleur slipped out the door. "Now look what you did! How thick can you get?"

"Whatever, you," Draco scoffed. He stuck his head out the door to shout at Fleur's retreating figure. "Don't expect anything from us ever again, you traitor! You wanna act like a bitch then you'll get treated like one! You and your Mudblood girlfriend! We'll see just how quiet you are then! You'll get what you deserve soon enough! She's not good enough for you, Fleur! You'll learn the hard way, I swear it!"

Fleur felt a powerful urge to run back and make pay for his words and how he was acting, but she bit back her rising blood pressure and sighed; they must have thought she was stupid. Just as she shoved down any scenarios of her possibly taking her anger out on any of them, she noticed Harry standing right in front of her while she walked past more compartments with people of course staring out at her. Fleur didn't bother smiling at him while she reached him. Harry gave her a concerned look while he ushered her inside, and Fleur wasn't even in the compartment for two seconds before Hermione hugged her fiercely and led them both to sit down. Fleur felt a distinct heat rise to her face while she continued to hold Hermione while they sat down, burying her head in her neck so as to avoid having to say anything.

Ron and Ginny were also in the compartment but chose to speak quietly with Harry while the three of them sat across from Fleur and Hermione. Hermione was choosing to not say anything as well. Fleur was trying her hardest to cool her forehead on the smooth of Hermione's neck while she placed her legs on the seat and bent them at her side. She stayed like that for the entire ride, falling in and out of sleep in between swallowing more knots in her throat, memorising the rhythm and sound of Hermione's breathing while trying to synchronise her own with them, savouring the warmth of the arms wrapped about her tired body and the lips and soft cheek resting atop her head. Hermione was whispering to her; the soothsays were gliding down her sheet of silvery blonde and making her all too aware of her heartbeats against her chest.

Whispers to not pay Draco any mind, that it's fine if she doesn't want to talk, sorry for losing her, and that it was alright if she was having a bad day so far. Fleur tried to fill her senses with Hermione's words kissing her warm roots and to ignore how loudly her mind was screaming that she wouldn't be having a bad day if she didn't treasure Hermione more than anyone. She shoved the horrible notion down and hid it away, never to return.

They all merely put their robes over their clothes just before the train arrived at Hogsmeade Station that night. Fleur tried to at least put on her white Hogwarts-issued blouse underneath as well to set some kind of example as Head Girl. Still, her tie was knotted loosely just as it always was. She was to make sure that everyone got off the train just before it left the Station, but she still left with the others to at least get a taste of the fresh air for a moment. She smoothed down her black and emerald robes just as the five of them got off, but someone had conveniently found them not even five seconds after they'd done so.

"Mark my words, Fleur," Draco said loudly as he passed and nearly shoved her as he did, "you think you're so much better with her, without us, but you're dead wrong. Don't be surprised if you wake up with mud all in your veins tomorrow morning after you snog her goodnight."

"Oi, clear off," Ron barked, "no one wants to hear your crap, Malfoy!"

"Oh, not to mention your money'll magically disappear, hanging with that lot," Draco sneered, Pansy and the others could only stand and watch while he swaggered over to Fleur who was looking at her hand clasped in Hermione's. "Unless you've spent it all on her. You can't buy worth and self-esteem, Fleur. Or good looks. She's about as ugly as Millicent Bulstrode. She must have you under a damn Imperius Curse or something, dating you—"

"Just stay away from me!" Fleur yelled. "And Hermione. I mean it."

Draco balked at her reaction and the dangerous flash her eyes had given him seconds before; everyone else had even felt a nearly overwhelming drowning sensation of her thrall. Hermione in particular nearly jumped from the flow of energy and allure but she knew better, Draco nearly having done the same. He knew he crossed the line and clearly wasn't even thinking. Fleur was still leering at him; Hermione was holding her back slightly while trying hard to not scowl at him. Draco swallowed and ran a hand over his head but Fleur wasn't in the mood for his non-verbal apologies.

"Malfoy, I think you ought to just leave," Hermione said diplomatically; she knew exactly why Fleur reacted the way she did and wasn't particularly thrilled with his being around them, him being Draco or not.

"Look Fleur I'm sorry," Draco said with a scary amount of sincerity, "but you're just not acting like yourself—"

"Malfoy," said Harry reprovingly, "you heard them."

"Who asked you, Potter—"

"Goodbye, ferret," Ginny said sternly. Draco scoffed at her and Harry stepped in front of her.

"You heard us," he glowered.

"What? You all her new bodyguards or something?" Draco said jokingly, his attempt at a smirk clearly weak to everyone, including himself just as he winced at Fleur's leer.

"Do you like gettin' yelled at or what?" Ron asked sceptically. "'Cause you sure as hell aren't winnin' right now. Beat it, already."

"What do you know, Weaselbee?" Draco sneered, albeit unconvincingly. "Ain't you oughtta be a little jealous of 'em?" Ron folded his arms and snorted.

"I support them. Unlike you. Some best friend you are, insultin' Fleur like that. How can you just stand here 'n call yourself apologisin' but you're insultin' 'er 'n Hermione? If you knew what's worth you'd be supportin' her no matter what like you promised you would."

Draco frowned and tried to apologise again but Fleur had already whipped around to return to the train to tend to her duties that he was supposed to be helping with. He seemed to remember while he looked down at his Head Boy badge before taking a step forward, but Hermione scowled at him and shook her head while she ran off to catch up with Fleur. Blaise came over to collect his friend and dragged him ahead with Pansy and the others. Harry, Ron and Ginny turned to nod to Hermione before she disappeared on the train, the three of them trudging ahead and making a point to walk past the Slytherins on their way to the carriages.

Fleur kept her lips pursed while she began her thorough search of the compartments for sleeping students. She noticed Hermione out of the corner of her eye walking down another corridor to do the same. Her efforts helped to dissipate her anger somewhat while she at least made an effort to keep a calm expression. Just as she thought she was done, she did stumble upon two students that weren't sleeping; they were still sitting there, one pointing out and commenting serenely on various nature life while the other watched and nodded. Fleur opened the compartment door to make herself known but the two didn't turn. She cleared her throat and folded her arms while she leaned on the door – that certainly worked. The one that was speaking merely smiled calmly at her while the other looked horrified.

"F-Fleur!" Neville said shrilly. He immediately looked around and stood up, quickly making his friend follow suit. "We've arrived, haven't we?"

"Yes, Neville," Fleur said evenly, now turning to raise an eyebrow at his companion while she moved from the doorframe and out of their way as they left the compartment.

"Why hello Fleur," said Luna serenely, "lovely evening, isn't it? I was just telling Neville about the—"

"Nargles in the trees, I'm sure," Fleur remarked dryly, wincing as she did so, "while that's all good and well, I need you to understand that the train won't leave until I give them the okay. Might I kindly suggest that you leave before all the carriages are taken?"

"Certainly," Luna said curtly, "though you are mistaken – I've only seen nargles in mistletoe. They're quite persistent, though they might be in regular trees. Have you seen any—"

"Luna," Fleur said sternly, not one to have much patience for the younger Ravenclaw Prefect, "please. Take Neville and leave. You'll miss your…pudding."

"Oh, you are very, very right, Fleur," Luna said placidly while Hermione walked over to the scene and stood next to Fleur, looking extremely perplexed. "Oh hello, Hermione," said Luna brightly, "Fleur and I were just—"

"L-leaving," Neville stammered just as Fleur was about to retort. Fleur nodded curtly to him before he blushed profusely and dragged his friend off the train.

"Interesting friends of yours," Fleur said as Hermione took her hand while they went to go see the driver.

"You said it, not me," Hermione smiled. Fleur chuckled and shook her head.

"So I know we haven't really been able to talk today," Hermione said apologetically while she stared at the path in front of them; they did indeed miss the carriages but were still happy to walk alone anyway. "I've just had this feeling that you're not feeling yourself today. Other than Malfoy being a right git…"

"How can you tell?" Fleur asked gently, deeply interested in Hermione's perception.

"Well, for starters, you never wake up first.. I was worried when I woke up and you weren't there."

"I'm sorry…"

"No, it's fine.. But that brings up another point before I get back to any of that."

"I'm listening."

"We never talked about our.. sleeping arrangements. Surely you don't want to go back to sleeping on your own. Unless tonight you need your space or anything, I understand completely."

"No, no. I want you to sleep in my room with me. I hate that Draco's room is on the other side of the Common Room but he won't say anything to you. He doesn't have the heart to insult you to your face but he'll try to belittle me. As if I'm suddenly going to change my mind about you and instead go back to letting him hide behind me."

"He does…care about you," Hermione reasoned, "in a strange way. I for one can't understand how he could possibly say those things then turn right around and try to apologise."

"He and the others said sorry when he yanked me in their compartment. But I got the feeling that they were being fake about it. At any rate, I don't care about them. They turned their backs on me before and I don't trust them anymore."

"All right. I'm sure they'll leave you alone from now on, though."

"I almost can't wait to leave this place."

"Why's that?"

"I'd like to get away from this petty drama and not have to deal with kids trying to undermine us. I'm too old for this, and so are you, really."

Hermione actually laughed at the truth and Fleur soon found herself laughing right along with her; she did have a point, however sad it was.

"Just a bit longer," Hermione said, "then we can get on with our lives. Speaking of which, I haven't any idea what it is you want to do after we graduate."

"I don't either," Fleur said coolly. Hermione looked up at her with surprise.

"Really? But you've plenty of talents; surely you'd be able to get into just about anything you aim for. What did Professor Snape advise you when we had our Career Counselling?"

"He just said to take the N.E.W.T. level courses of the classes that I enjoy."

"You got O's on all your O.W.L.s?"

"Yes. So there really wasn't an issue with getting the classes I wanted."

"I see.."

"The future was never very bright to me before, Hermione. I held a bit of disdain about it for a long time up until just recently."

Fleur made sure to smile warmly when Hermione merely continued to regard her with a bit of mild shock. Hermione seemed to understand after a few moments and returned the smile, both of them going back to shyly walking as close as possible, making sure to mirror each others' walking and breathing still while they continued on in silence. They ended up taking quite a long time and opted to skip dinner, instead sneaking off to Fleur's quarters before any of the other Slytherins could return to the Common Room.

The month passed with surprising ease – Draco had resorted to staying silent altogether whenever Fleur was around, sans Hermione or otherwise. He seemed to be torn in between anger and appearing to be genuinely apologetic, but Fleur was not obliged to care. It wasn't until that day at the end of January that she did begin to care about something else that Hermione had been progressively helping her with.

The two decided to spend time flying together to have Fleur get over her fears and for Hermione to learn how to fly. But while Fleur's fears seemed to have gotten progressively slim extremely quickly, Hermione had begun to notice something that sprung up sometime around the middle of the month. It was relatively infrequent, but now that they were standing out in the snowy Quidditch Pitch while everyone else was inside enjoying the warmth of the castle, it began to come up again.

Fleur eased her body to lean on Hermione, shortly making it so that they were both on the ground, Fleur atop Hermione. Hermione observed Fleur's expression carefully just above hers; it was one of playful lust and teasing. Fleur's emerald-clad body was curled about, her gloved hands were over Hermione's cheeks, and her eyes were darkened, hazy, lust-filled; she didn't usually have a mischievous smirk upon her visage whenever she silently asked to kiss her. Hermione scowled deeply when Fleur merely chuckled at her confusion and inched her rosy lips tantalisingly close to her own. Fleur inhaled a good deal of the crisp afternoon air while she looked down at Hermione with parted lips, seemingly unaware or uncaring of Hermione's obvious anger and confusion with her behaviour.

"What's wrong, chère..?" Fleur breathed dangerously. Hermione scowled even more, if possible, and yet still held Fleur tighter than before.

"You're acting rather odd. You've been acting this way for a couple of weeks now. Would you mind explaining what it is you're doing…?"

"I can't be close to you like this…?"

"You're not acting like yourself."

"Draco used to tell me that a lot…"

"Fleur, you're confusing me. Now tell me what your problem is—"

The problem was told, but not in any certain terms, verbal or otherwise – Hermione's mind had become quite befuddled and her expression slightly bedazzled while Fleur chose to kiss her now and talk later. Hermione was becoming increasingly frustrated by Fleur's unwillingness to explain herself whenever she would go through these phases; what was worse was that she supposedly had no recollection of her ever experiencing them once they were over. They never occurred in class or whenever they were in the castle at all; always when they were outside.

Though Hermione wanted answers, and answers she wanted quite badly, Fleur's mouth had an uncanny ability of expunging her worries and replacing them with an infinitesimal regard for the problem at hand and instead made her far more pleased with the pleasures at mouth. Fleur's lips were always so much hungrier and softer and fuller and wanton whenever she was like this; Hermione responded appropriately when she could, somehow letting her fears fuel her explorations. Fleur's hands were never rough; they were always gentle with Hermione in mind. It was always just her mouth. Her tongue was voracious, her teeth nibbled teasingly at every chance, her navel was forever pressing sensually into Hermione's and her sighs and other sounds of approval were always wonderfully warming to Hermione's ears.

Despite how extremely marvellous it all was, Hermione steadily still demanded answers more stubbornly each time it happened. Fleur always won, and they were always right back to the castle right when she had her fill, having forgotten any shift in personality had ever happened. It inevitably happened once again, and they were right back in the safety of the castle, Fleur calmly going on about her interest in the next Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson, and Hermione thoroughly baffled while they walked through the Entrance Hall to the dungeons.

"Mmm, that bulletin just now said they're starting the Duelling Club back up again," Fleur said with a broad smile.

"Oh really?" Hermione asked, trying to mask her frustration and confusion with matters.

"Mhm. I assume they're only going to brush through the boring basics. Child's play, really. Unless you want to join again."

"I'd rather not."

"Good. I can probably teach you more than what's allowed in there, anyway. If you want me to, that is."

"If you insist." Hermione was hardly thinking about the conversation, let alone her responses to Fleur's lilts.

"We can take a break from flying and practise outside, then. It should be…interesting."

"Interesting… Yes.. yes of course…"