Note: I'd just like to offer a quick note of thanks to everyone who has reviewed this story and to everyone who is reading it. I really appreciate it. Thank you.

Fleur felt sick. The next question came out in a strangled whisper,

"You regret what 'appened between us?" She didn't want to hear the answer, not if wasn't the one she wanted.

Hermione sat down heavily on a chair, all fight seeming to have deserted her. She lifted her head and looked directly in the French woman's eyes.

"No. How could I?"

"'Then I do not understand!" Fleur shouted, her imploring eyes blinking away angry tears.

"What begins in chaos ends in chaos. We hurt too many people because we were selfish, it was wrong for us to even start anything."

"But love is inherently selfish! I regret 'urting Bill, but would it 'ave been fairer on 'im if I 'ad stayed with him knowing that I could never feel the same way about 'im as 'e did about me?" Frustration emanated from her, her hand gestures wild.

Hermione looked away, refusing to meet her eyes.

"I should not 'ave began anything with 'im at all, I know that and I am sorry about that. But I never realised...I did not think that you would ever...I was young and I tried to be who everyone thought I should be. But please, I know you understand."

Hermione did understand. She remembered the pressures of being young, when the world told you who you were, who you should be. Her telling herself that her feelings towards Ron were more than simple friendship. Trying to convince herself that her anger towards Fleur during the Triwizard tournament was because of her effect on Ron, not because of Fleur's effect on her. Giving up her first kiss to Viktor Krum because he was a good guy, someone most other girls would be attracted to. Cuddling up to Ron in the common room, telling herself she should be relaxed against the hard, muscular body that held her because everyone else in the room expected that. She understood.

"That doesn't make it right. We hurt people already. If we...we would hurt them all over again. I left Ron the night his brother was killed, you left Bill a week after his brother was killed, we were both so bloody selfish that we couldn't even take our time to comfort them! When they needed us the most. What kind of people are we? Can't you see that we stand to hurt them all over again? Everything we do together make it even more wrong!" She tried to dash away the tears from her face, but they just fell ceaselessly.

"Then why do you not regret what 'appened between us?"

Hermione closed her eyes, taking in a deep, ragged breath before answering.

"I could never regret those three days. "

Her body stiffened for a moment as she felt Fleur's lips brush her own. The kiss was gentle, the lips soft. Her shaking hand stopped Fleur pulling away completely, her cheek smooth beneath her quivering hand. She was close enough to see the tiny speck of grey in the sea of blue of the left eye. She looked down towards the older woman's lips, her index finger tracing the outline. Fleur gasped at the sensation of Hermione running her finger along her lips. She had never felt so vulnerable before, and even more frighteningly, she had never felt so safe before. She didn't dare to move, afraid to lose the brunette's touch. Then Hermione leaned in and kissed her.

That night they learnt what it was like to constantly desire the touch of another; a deep, gnawing need for skin to skin contact be it their fingers interlinking, or more. They whispered sweet nothings, offered up hidden truths.

Night turned into day. Day slipped into night. They both knew they had three days before they had to confront anything. It was the one of many things they did not discuss, did not want to discuss, would not discuss. As the hours slipped by the kisses became more urgent, the touches more demanding. Neither wanted to sleep, they didn't want to lose the time to dreaming when, for once, reality was all they wanted.

"I'd give up my soul before I give up these three days."

Then they returned. They returned bringing in their loud voices, their plans, their presence. Bill had walked in, eyes searching for his wife, lighting up when he found her. He swept her up, wrapped her up in his large, muscular arms, pressed his rough lips against hers, his stubble scratching her face, his male scent cloying in her nose. Nothing about it felt right, what was once bearable was no longer. She didn't see the look of anguish that crossed Hermione's features. Fleur pulled away, desperately trying to catch Hermione's eyes. But all she saw was the brunette striding away, Harry walking with her talking about his plan. They were gone within the hour.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore. There isn't anything to talk about. You have to let this go Fleur, it can't happen!" Hermione stood up abruptly and began to walk towards the door.

"The same way that you 'ave obviously let it go, non?" her accent thickening in anger.

Hermione paused at the mocking tone. Then she carried on walking, until she felt herself wrenched backwards and felt Fleur's lips crashing down on her own. This was no tender kiss, no softness, no gentleness. Hermione struggled and tried to push the blonde away, but she was a lot stronger than her frame hinted. She felt strong hands grasp her wrists, the small bones grating. And she found herself responding, leaning in to the kiss, deepening it, biting. She felt the pressure around her wrists released, Fleur's fingers sliding up to entangle with her own. Then Fleur pulled away, her breathing ragged,

"And you say that we should let it go? This time, you will not be ze one to walk away." The bitterness was evident in the Frenchwoman's voice, leaving Hermione no chance to respond before she had left.