Hermione was doing the final patrol of the night, treading along corridors now as familiar to her as her own room. Save for the occasional movements of the inhabitants of the paintings, there was no one around at this time of night. She herself was tired, but she didn't want to go to sleep; memories occurred as dreams and they left her even more tired and agitated the next day. She was thinking rearranging her meeting with Harry. They hadn't had much of an opportunity to talk earlier and before that it'd been quite a few months since she had last seen him, and whilst they exchanged owls frequently, she still wasn't sure how to tell him about what was happening with her at Hogwarts. She had never told anyone else what had happened and wasn't sure that she wanted to begin now.

As she was lost in her thought she didn't notice the arm that reached out from the wall and pulled her violently into a room hidden in the wall. She whirled around pulling her wand from her robes in an instant, attacking with a non verbal stunning spell. The spell was deflected just as quickly, and her face blanched as she saw her attacker, before screaming angrily,

"What the bloody hell do you think you're doing? I could have seriously hurt you!"

"You thought that I would not be prepared for your attack? Besides, zis is the only way that I thought I could make you talk to me." Hermione had not been prepared for the cold tone that underlay Fleur's words.

"I can't….I just can't."

"Can't what? Can't take a meal with me in the same room, can't talk to me, can't see me? Mon dieu, why not?"

"You know why not!"

Hermione was sat in the darkened room, looking out at the view of the coast. The cottage was quiet, everyone else had left earlier to stay in London for a few days for a strategy meeting. Hermione had been left behind to recuperate from her encounter with Bellatrix Lestrange, as the faint twinges in her arm reminded her. A knock on the door startled her and as she turned around, the door opened to reveal Fleur carrying a large steaming bowl.

"I didn't realise you were still here, I thought you'd gone with everyone else."

"Of course not, someone needed to be 'ere to keep an eye on you. Are you 'ungry? I made some bouillabaisse. I know that you like it." Hermione didn't really have much of an appetite, but she didn't want the older girl's efforts to go to waste. The bowl settled gentled on the table next to her, and she took a deep breath in, enjoying the appetising aroma.

"I didn't realise you could cook." Fleur laughed, sitting down on the seat next to her.

"I can't really. I can only make a few dishes, but I make them well I think," she laughed, giving Hermione a Gallic shrug. Hermione brought a spoonful to her mouth and tasted it, exclaiming in surprise as it touched her tongue.

"It's wonderful. Thank you." She took a few more sips before remembering what Fleur had said. "How did you know I like bouillabaisse?"

"I 'eard you. When I was there for the Triwizard Tournament, that first night. 'ave you been to France many times?"

"My family used to go every other summer, it's beautiful over there. Do you miss it?"

"Oui. Very much. Even more I miss ma famille. But I came back…there was someone…"she trailed off, much to Hermione's surprise, a blush noticeable even in the dim light.

"Bill?"

"'e is a good man." Hermione felt the stew churn in the hollow of her stomach at the answer. "Anyway, I shall let you eat your food in peace. Bonne nuit." Fleur silently left the room, the click of the door being the only sign of anyone leaving.

Hermione closed her eyes, and rested her head on the back of the chair. She smiled sardonically to herself, it turned out that dating others, Fleur's marriage and even torture couldn't rid herself of her attraction towards Fleur. What she had initially dismissed as an adolescent, schoolgirl crush had developed over the years into a bone aching attraction. And she had done nothing about it. Not once had she voiced how she felt, she had never done anything to indicate that she felt anything more than friendship. The smell of the stew was a reminder of her cowardice, and it was making her feel nauseous.

She took the bowl downstairs to the kitchen, washed it and left it to dry on the draining board. The house was quiet, she could hear the creaking of the timber joints as the wind rattled outside and she found it soothing. A flicker of light from the living room caught her attention and she walked to the room to discover that a fire had been lit, and Fleur was sat at the window box, eyes closed. Hermione couldn't help but stare, Fleur was beautiful in the full glare of the sun, but there was something about seeing her in firelight that made Hermione's breath catch. She was unable to pull herself away even when the object of her desires opened her eyes and caught her staring. For a time that could have been a mere matter of seconds to a minute, their gazes did not waver. Hermione felt as though every secret she held could be seen, and she was surprised to see that there was longing and questions in the blue eyes. Hermione blinked, breaking eye contact, turned away, hating the way her longing could misinterpret a single look. She had taken just one step when she heard.

"Bill wasn't ze one."

"Pardon?" Hermione turned around, unsure about what she had just heard.

"Bill wasn't ze someone."Hermione felt as though time had stopped. She was acutely aware of her heart beating, the slight quiver in her limbs.

"I don't understand."

Fleur stood up and slowly walked towards her, not stopping until there was only an inch between their bodies. Blue eyes fixed on brown eyes, searching; Hermione could feel Fleur's breath against her lips.

"I think you do 'Ermione." Fleur closed the gap between their lips.