Welcome back. I missed y'all.

I hope you enjoy this one, (all the others too) so please let me know what you think/thought of it.

As usual many, many, thanks to the Beta Readers: gamer0890, (Loads of really good Post-war/AU fics on his profile) DJKopper, (Author of Of Witches and Snitches which is fantastic and is uploading a new fic Kingdom of Ashes which I highly recommend) and x102reddragon (The glue behind the flowerpot discord server: moderator, hype-man, kind soul, and benevolent over-lord.)

Chapter 12 - The Weight of Duty

Fleur paced in the hallway before her mother's room.

The door seemed too large. Being called to her mother like a child was enough to make her head ache. She tried to calm her breathing, but ended up just snarling out some sharp breaths.

Shrugging, she opened the door and marched in. It was important to seem in control, her mother would snap her in half if allowed.

"Thank you, Fleur," she said. She sat at a little table in the corner of the room.

Fleur glared at her, but let it go when she noticed that her mother wasn't even looking. All of her attention was on a slab of paper, too thick to fold. As Fleur approached it turned out it wasn't paper, not yet, it was an actual chunk out of a tree. It were as if someone had only heard of paper before.

The words scratched on were impossible to read.

"This is from the nest," her mother said, her pitch rising with pride. "It's a summons, for you."

"Okay…"

"We leave tonight."

Fleur slumped into a chair, her legs giving out. She couldn't leave just yet, there was too much to do, to plan. Things that couldn't be left unsaid.

"I can't, I still have a week of school."

Her mother gave her a look, "Your lessons are done, exams taken, this last week is just a formality. Madam Maxime has cleared this trip."

Of course she had. Fleur hadn't confided in her enough, but really she doubted Madam Maxime could have protected her from her own mother. Only Fleur could do that.

If school was finished, then she was fully an adult now. And she chose her own life.

As though she had seen the spark of rebellion in her eyes, her mother placed her hand on Fleur's. "It's too late to run. The Nest will clip your wings if they must. They want answers… as do you. They want you to explain yourself."

"For the Tournament? Am I not allowed to go about my own life as I see fit?"

She was met with a hard look.

Fleur shook her head, "I really can't go, I have things I need to do."

"Allow me to rephrase, you can't avoid this. You don't have a say in it. We can go and walk there on our own, or you can be dragged."

"You'd really do that to me, wouldn't you?"

"No Fleur, but those in the Nest would. And they don't have my…gentle way with you. You know they don't like rebellious Veela."

Fleur had expected it, her mother had threatened it before, but now that it was imminent she did everything in her power not to lash out. She knew her mother didn't hate her, she was just doing what she thought was best, because that was what she had been taught. No matter how many fights they had she wouldn't want to see Fleur hurt, but she would let someone hurt Fleur if it was right.

Or her version of right.

Tonight. That didn't leave her much time. Her friends could wait, letters could be written, perhaps flimsy if things went bad, but it was better than nothing.

Harry would need some work, she couldn't afford to play on his feelings any more, she needed him to be ready for her. But he was likely still sleeping, Madam Pomfrey had driven them out last night complaining about how much rest he'd missed.

"I need to see to my stuff then," she said.

She wasn't done fighting, not by a long shot, but she would take her time to do it properly. Jumping into another fight with her mother wouldn't solve anything. Not when she was being dragged to those who gave her mother those foolish ideas. A good plan, a bit of luck, and she'd be free to make her own way in life.

Her feet rang hard against the stone, each step worked to ease that fire burning away inside of her. The hallways were quiet and deserted, a rare sight in Hogwarts, but it made sense. Half the school had probably partied into the early hours, and the other half had likely been kept awake.

Madam Pomfrey greeted her at the door with a stern look on her face, but she allowed Fleur into her domain. Fleur thanked her and then took in the people around Harry's bed.

Ron and Hermione were already sitting there chatting animatedly. It made her smile; loyal friends were a blessing. A blessing that Fleur would have to damage soon, her need to explain her disappearance wasn't high on her list, but they were owed it.

She made her way over to the bed, cursing the need to break up the friends for her selfish needs.

!

The bed was as solid as Dudley's head, and shifting didn't help one bit. Madam Pomfrey wasn't willing to risk him moving and dying, a threat which seemed imminent by the way she acted. The rest of the hospital wing wasn't too comfortable either, there was only a curtain for privacy, and the huge ceilings made even that feel lacklustre. He was relieved for the heating charms on his blankets though.

He would have liked some socks at least, the awful gown Madam Pomfrey claimed as necessary was a far-cry from comfort. She had allowed him underpants, which was as assuring as a walk in the dark. The cold floor left him rooted to the bed, with little hope for escape.

The room was empty, even the huge windows seemed more like prison bars than pleasant views. At least he had survived. The sun was halfway over the horizon, which was a welcome sight. It hadn't been certain he'd see it again for a while.

His scar had burned all night. With a fury coming from Voldemort that seemed to never end, but now that it had subsided Harry didn't feel much better. His body ached with every breath, he was so tired but closing his eyes brought no peace, and worst of all he knew there was no safety from Voldemort.

Voldemort had gotten to him at Hogwarts thrice now, and there was no doubt in his mind that he could again. After all, last night will have affirmed the prophecy further to Voldemort. Harry would be the sole focus of his ambition.

There would be another attempt, and Harry would have to be ready for it himself. This time there would be no Moody, or Barty Crouch Jr, to help him. And his gobstones wouldn't be a surprise next time.

Every one of his prized gobstones were gone.

It hit him like an ogre.

He'd blown them all up to escape, and fight back, from Voldemort. It was nice to know they'd been useful, but his backup set wasn't the same as those were.

Dumbledore had said they were made strong due to their bond, which meant that he would need to get used to new ones again. If, and that was a big "if", he even wanted to deal with a pouch full of death.

But he did. He had a couple of months with the Dursleys to deal with, after all.

The door to the hospital wing opened, Harry saw Ron and Hermione plead with Madam Pomfrey for a minute, then they earned a nod. He tried to sit up to greet them properly, but a pain shot through his back and he decided better of it.

The pain was only an echo of Voldemort's cruciatus curse, but that memory wouldn't leave him soon. He took a second to calm his breathing, and then greeted his two best friends.

"How are you feeling Harry, Madam Pomfrey hasn't been too overbearing has she—"

"Blimey, Harry, you look awful."

"I'm alright, the dreamless sleep potion didn't work too long though," Harry said.

It was a pretty nasty side effect of the cruciatus Voldemort had wielded, it lingered in the brain and refused to be ignored. Or so Madam Pomfrey had said, and despite his groaning, he often trusted her judgment. Which was smart enough, considering she had put him back together more than a few times.

"That's awful, I can't imagine what you must have gone through." Hermione said.

"What did happen?" Ron asked, showing his usual subtle charm.

"You heard most of it, the worst of it, at least. But he used my blood and regrew a body for himself, and then made sport of me."

He could've laughed if he wasn't so sore. Voldemort would be mortified if he ever learned that Harry's muggle cousin had been adept in the same hobby.

"Does that make You-Know-Who your kid now?" Ron joked.

They shuddered at that.

"They had a big party for you in the Gryffindor tower, but the Hufflepuffs were too upset to join." Hermione said, expertly changing the subject.

"Oh that's… lovely." Harry offered.

"It really was; four people vomited. Professor McGonagall was livid."

Ron shook his head, "it was only three, Murphy vomited twice."

They shared a laugh while Harry smiled. It was absurd to think that his classmates were raucously celebrating Harry's victory while he lay in bed writing in pain.

The door opened again, and Fleur walked in looking her perfect self. Harry started to sit up, a bolt of pain rattled up his back, but he pushed through.

She exchanged a few words with Madam Pomfrey, after a few sombre glances she made her way over with long strides.

"Good morning, 'Arry, 'ow are you feeling?" she asked.

Hearing her voice alone made his heart soar, it was as if a cloud had been shifted from in front of the sun. He knew his cheeks were burning, but he didn't mind.

"Not too bad, was just thinking of getting up to move around," he said.

"YOU'LL DO NO SUCH THING!" came a shout from the closed office.

"I'm glad to hear it, I was so worried." She turned to Ron and Hermione and addressed them. "I am so sorry, but can I 'ave a bit of time to talk with 'Arry, alone?"

Hermione seemed unwilling to leave, but it was Ron who made the decision. His mind was in the wrong place, judging by the wink he sent at Harry, but his heart was in the right. Both cast glances back as they left.

"Ron has an awful imagination on him," Fleur teased.

"You don't know the half of it," he agreed.

"I don't know 'ow to go about this 'Arry." She sat down at the end of his bed, and started wringing her hands. "I never expected to 'ave so little time."

His heart fell.

Distant listenings at doors or friendly banter told Harry exactly where this conversation was going. It didn't take a genius. Fleur was obviously uncomfortable, and reluctant. But Harry had known deep down that this wouldn't last. She was too beautiful, too talented, and too perfect, for him.

"You want to break up," he said. It wasn't a question, it was resignation.

"No… That's not what this is about. What I want isn't what this is about."

What did that mean? She didn't want to break up, so they weren't then? It had made so much sense to him that it was a shock she didn't agree.

He was smart enough not to fight back on that though.

"What?" he asked.

The confusion made it through. Fleur glanced at him then laughed.

"I'm sorry, I'm still processing it myself. Where do I begin…"

Harry waited patiently. The sun poked in through the windows and bathed Fleur in a ray of iridescence. Her hair was a vibrant silver shimmer. It was unearthly and utterly stunning. And best of all, she didn't want to break up with him.

"Veelas have had a rough time lately. When Grindelwald rose up, we joined him. They claim it made sense, they were fighting for a better future and all that, but all that 'appened was Grindelwald betrayed us. Leaving us to the mercies of those we 'ad fought."

Fleur had tears in her eyes, unshed but threatening to burst out. Harry shifted forward to reach for her, trying hard not to let the lance of pain that rocked his muscles show.

"So those who survived, fled. Deep in the woods, they gathered and made their home, broken and unwilling to risk anything to better themselves. My grandmother said they were down to less than a hundred Veela. I understand their fear, their desperation, and their cowardice."

A hint of anger rose in her tone. Harry gave her hand a squeeze, one she repeated. He didn't dare say a word, this seemed like something she needed to say. Either to him or herself, he wasn't sure.

"So they sat and waited, for any fool men who dared to venture into the woods. Before long, the population rose again. I have thousands of cousins, and I expect my children will have tens of thousands… That's all they do now. Breed. The World Cup was the first time the world saw Veela out in numbers in decades."

"My mother plans to find me a husband, some fool who I can ensnare and trap in a marriage that's not real. She and the Nest, our rulers, expect every Veela to do that."

Fleur let a tear fall.

Harry's breathing stopped. It was a lot to take in. He tried to understand it all, the loss they must have felt. Fleur didn't deserve this at all, none of them did, but they had been given little else to work with. Harry had some sympathies there.

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked.

"No, I doubt there's anything to be done at all."

Silence suffocated him.

Not the usual comfortable silence. This was the silence that fell after a death.

"I have to meet with the Nest… tomorrow."

Fleur shook.

The tears ran in rivers from her usually delighted eyes. Harry had never seen anything half as heart-breaking. He shifted once more, the pain a mere afterthought, and wrapped her in his arms. He hoped it was enough to comfort her.

She grabbed two fistfuls of his mangy gown and held herself against him. And the tears flowed faster yet.

It took her a while to speak, but when she did, her voice held no sign of her distress.

"We leave for Sofia tonight, I don't even know how, but my mother isn't letting me fight 'er on this. She says that's what I'm best at anyway, no wonder why she's rushing."

"I can't believe she'd want all this for you," Harry said. He knew he had a warped view of mothering, but giving your daughter up for her to pump out babies didn't sound right to him. He did wish that he hadn't said a thing though.

"She lived that life, it's all she's known, and things have gotten better with time for her. My father loves her despite it all, when she lets him out of her allure he's content enough. It's sickening. But she believes it's for the best, and won't take me seriously."

Fleur looked down at her hands, then gave him a tragic look.

"Honestly, sometimes I wish I didn't have a mother."

Harry couldn't tell what he felt, but it felt a lot like when he got home to the Dursleys.

"I'm so sorry to say that to you of all people," she laughed a harsh and bitter laugh. "But if she wasn't in my life, things would be so much better. Any love I had for her withered away and died long ago. If Gabby, my little sister, wasn't so vulnerable, I would've left years ago."

"Why don't you, now, just vanish and go be happy?" Harry asked. He hated the question with every fibre of his being, but it would be best for her. Maybe.

"And what, live as a muggle? Live as a hermit, scared to leave safety in case I get spotted and dragged off to hell?" Fleur shook her head. Her hair danced and rippled, and Harry knew she could never blend in, not for a second.

"They rip the wings off Veela who try those kinds of things."

The hollow tone in her voice told Harry exactly how painful that would be.

"So you're going?"

"Yes, I entered the Tournament to use it as a bargaining tool. Win it all, and I had proof that I could go out in the world and not be wasted as a breeding mare. I had it all worked out. You saw my duel with Cedric?"

Harry nodded, he'd seen some of it.

"With my allure and wand skills, no average teenager could match me," Fleur said.

She wasn't boasting, he knew that well, she was being as honest as before. If she had used her allure on Harry, she would have beaten him—and then been taken to that graveyard.

"Then you came and ruined it all," she teased. Her hands found his leg and gave it a squeeze. "All earnest and eager, and I thought, why not? Might as well have a last summer fling in case it all went wrong. But then in that maze, I just couldn't crush you. I wanted to. More than anything."

"Sorry," Harry muttered.

He hadn't known what it had all meant to her, but looking back, he wouldn't want her in that graveyard.

"Don't be." Her eyes shone with pride as she looked into his eyes. "You did amazing, and you should be proud. I am. I wished that it was me, but seeing how you look in this bed… I don't know who got it worse."

She shrugged, then gave him a kiss on the cheek. She lingered for a second, then rested her forehead on his.

"You could 'ave died. Should 'ave." A single tear fell onto his cheek, and Harry felt his heart break for her.

"I didn't though. A talent of mine."

"Obviously."

They stayed like that for a bit.

Harry admired how Fleur looked with the sunlight bathing her. Each slender limb seemed sculpted to be admired, not to mention her face, perfection would be envious.

Fleur gave him a brilliant smile.

Harry couldn't help but blush. It was hard not to stare at her, and when she caught him it was even worse.

Fleur pulled back and lifted her hands up to her head. She winced, but held out a few strands of her hair to him.

"Take these please Harry, it's not half as much as I want to give you, but the world will have to wait."

He held his hand out. The second the strand of hair touched him, he felt a familiar warmth. A resonance thrummed within him and something clicked. He'd had no idea what the gift meant, but at that moment it was so clear.

He realised tears flowed down his cheeks.

Was this her goodbye? Somehow it seemed more personal than the last half an hour had been.

She nodded. Seemingly pleased that he understood.

"Do whatever you want with those. They are to stay with you now. I wouldn't go for a wand though… Veela hair wands aren't the best for men," she chuckled, no doubt she had a story there. "Which reminds me… My wand? Do you still have it?"

"Yeah, Madam Pomfrey put it in the drawer there," he said, glancing at the bed-side table. Fleur nodded but didn't make a move. "I think I know exactly what I'll do with them." He gestured to the hairs.

Fleur nodded at that.

"I need your help," she said.

Harry couldn't help but hear the vulnerability in that, she may as well have thrown herself at his feet.

"Anything," he promised.

"It's nothing serious. I just need you to work on those gobstones. I saw what it did in the lake. And what you implied to Dumbledore… you could change the world with that. You could… change my world."

Harry's breath caught.

"I don't need to know anything about them, I have suspicions, but it's your secret. Just know that a day will come when you'll be needed." Her voice firmed up, and her shoulders tensed. "With Voldemort back, he will come for you again, it is no secret that you two have a history."

No secret? It was the centre of his entire fame. And no one had a clue why, except him, Dumbledore, and Voldemort. It was cruel. His own life had been decided before his birth, not so unlike Fleur's.

"So, I want you to promise me that you'll give them your entire focus," she pleaded.

Harry nodded, unwilling to test his voice.

Fleur, who was about to set off on the end of her life and goals, smiled. As though any of it was fair. As though her wants were less important.

Harry ground his teeth.

He hadn't rebelled, he didn't even know if he could. Fleur had fought against her terrible fate for a while now, and all she had to show for it was a ruined relationship with her mother.

They had a lot more in common than he would have ever dared to think.

She had seemed so pristine, like a painting, but with this new light she was a teenage girl. One who was lost, and needed help, and he couldn't offer her much of it.

"Er… well, I don't know that I'll be able to do much," Harry muttered. He cast an eye over towards Madam Pomfrey's office. "Where do I start?"

He chuckled at the echo of Fleur. Since hearing it, he hadn't thought the prophecy through. Actually, he had avoided it like the fame that he'd never wanted. He'd just added the weight of the prophecy to his load without processing it. And he had faced so much in the last twelve hours.

Too much.

"When Voldemort killed my parents, he did it because of a prophecy. One only half heard in a dingy pub. So he set off and killed my family, because it said I would have the power to challenge him." Harry failed to hide the anger.

He hadn't really thought to be angry about it all. It had all happened so long ago that he was just used to not having parents.

Professor Trelanwey was enough of a fraud to give him reason to despise divination. Voldemort must have had a much better teacher, because he didn't stop for a second to think.

And to think that had been why his parents were murdered.

"It's so stupid. He ruined my entire life over a prophecy. He made me his enemy. Dumbledore said as much."

Fleur rubbed his back with a hand while she watched him. She hadn't tried to speak yet, and Harry was so glad for it.

"I've heard it too, when he came for me," he admitted. He nearly swallowed his tongue as he tried to stifle a sob. "When some dementors took a liking to me, I had to learn the patronus charm. Lupin found a boggart, and it worked. I faced that thing over and over. Each time I heard my mother plead with Voldemort."

"Once I heard my dad's last words."

He couldn't say any more. The words wouldn't come. He just cried.

None of it was fair.

Fleur kissed his forehead, and for the first time it didn't help.

He had opened up a wound, picked a scab so old and deep that he wasn't sure what he could do about it.

A long time later his tears had dried up, he wasn't done crying though, which made things all the worse. Fleur comforted him, holding him in her arms and singing a gentle song as his shoulders shook in her embrace. He felt the tug, that seductive allure, but it held little sway. It wasn't a seductive song, it was loving.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Don't be! 'Arry, you are allowed to feel those feelings." The passion took him by surprise. "You've been given a 'orrible life. I can't imagine what it must feel like, but you're not alone, and you don't 'ave to keep this bottled up."

Harry nodded. He wouldn't drag this up again, not unless there were no other choices. There was nothing to be gained by the aching in his heart.

How many times had he suffered, and how many times did it all get forgotten because of some new catastrophe? Worst of all, most of it was because of Voldemort.

"'E will never leave you alone, will 'e?" Fleur asked. Her hand brushed up and down his neck.

"No. He never heard the whole prophecy, but it had a line 'Neither can live while the other survives.' Since he's made everything else come to life, no doubt that line will too," Harry muttered.

He shook his head, he wished he could get up and go move, but his entire body was aching.

"I need to lay down," he explained.

Fleur made sure he was as comfortable as possible, she fluffed his pillows and arranged the blankets. It was a gesture that he wasn't used to. He had fought most forms of care, he'd always been so eager to leave the hospital wing that he'd only stayed for an extended length of time once. Even then, he'd been unconscious most of the stay.

"All good?"

Harry nodded.

Fleur rested a hand on his, her smile sad, and they sat there for a while.

Harry's legs felt like jelly, and not in a good way, each twitch reminded him of that awful pain. Each little shift brought it flooding back, only for a second, but enough for him to break into a cold sweat.

Madam Pomfrey rushed in, her wand at the ready.

She fussed over him for a few minutes, then presented a few bottles which he was made to drink.

Fleur waited with him the entire time, helping him or just teasing him. After he finished off the last potion he looked up and saw her with tears rolling down her face.

His eyelids grew so heavy that he nearly fell through the bed.

Fleur placed a kiss on his lips.

"I 'ope I can see you again soon. I'll be strong, I know you will…"

The world faded.

!

She closed the hospital wing door then leaned back against it, she had done what she could there. The dreamless sleep potion would do what it could for him, and he likely wouldn't be awake anytime soon.

There wasn't much left for her to do, really, packing was all she could think of. There wasn't much time left in the day. A few hours had passed since noon.

Fleur made to leave, but came face to face with Ron and Hermione, who carried a platter of food. Harry would've loved the thought.

"'Arry's just been given some dreamless sleep potion, 'e won't be awake anytime soon," she said. It shocked her just how raspy her voice still was.

They shared a look.

"It'll keep, we are going to wait for him, there's nothing else to do. Classes are finished and everyone wants to celebrate," Hermione said.

"Alright, I've got things to do, but I'm leaving tonight. It was lovely to meet you both, I 'ope to see you again soon."

They both made surprised sounds.

"Oh I'm sorry to hear that, it was lovely meeting you too, of course," Hermione said.

"Goodbye, I'm sure Harry will want to have you round sometime soon, so I expect we will see you soon," Ron said.

Fleur paused at that, but didn't press. She just needed to be done with goodbyes. It was with little shame that she left them as they entered the hospital wing. The day had been emotionally taxing enough.

As she made her way through the castle, toward the entrance hall, she saw Viktor Krum being swarmed and consoled by his many fans. His eyes found her soon enough, and they were hard. Some of those very fans backed away from him. Fleur held her hand up in respect and farewell. Krum just nodded and turned his back.

That could have gone worse, but she hadn't come to Hogwarts to make friends.

It was only when she reached the sweeping lawns of Hogwarts that she found another group of people. Their sky blue robes were so familiar, her heart tugged at the thought of never wearing her Beauxbatons school robes again.

As she walked by, they gave her some consoling sounds. She hadn't expected much, but they had exceeded that. Fleur had sneaked back into the carriage last night, well after midnight, and been greeted by one or two students.

Her best friends had been fast asleep in her bedroom, after having been given a key by the headmistress. She had woken them up, of course, and they had ranted and raved about the Tournament for a while. Mikaela had complained loudly that Fleur had gotten the roughest treatment, while Evélia had tried to console her.

Mikaela had broken up with her Gryffindor boyfriend and was trying to find a last poor fool to fool around with. Evélia had been busy with her studies, trying her hardest to earn good enough results to qualify for the Ministry apprenticeship program.

She owed them an explanation.

The chance to avoid them wasn't possible. Her bedroom door was ajar as she got there and from inside their voices reached her.

"I don't care, so what, she didn't win."

"You're delusional if you think she threw it."

Then came a voice she didn't want to hear, a haughty and unpleasant one.

"She should've won, despite our differences, I can tell she held back. All because of that Potter boy."

There was a pair of disgusted noises. Fleur chuckled quietly to herself, her friends were too good to her. She entered her room, Evélia stood with Mikaela by Fleur's bed, looking protective. Clarissa stood near Fleur's wardrobe, her back resting against the wall and her hand resting on her wand.

They all turned as Fleur walked in, and if looks could kill, Clarissa would have been on the run.

"Fleur, nice of you to show your face after that shocking display," Clarissa said.

"Oh, shut up," Evélia said. Her face was flushed with a deep red fury.

"Clarissa, nice of you to stop by, but I don't have any time for you. If you wouldn't mind…" Fleur gestured helpfully towards the door.

But Clarissa's ugly face only twisted into a scowl.

"Or not…" Mikaela muttered.

"Why did you let Potter win?" Clarissa snapped.

Fleur sighed. She hadn't let him win at all, but rather given him a fair chance. Perhaps that had been silly. At the time it seemed the right thing to do, and if she hadn't, she might well be dead.

Clarissa probably wouldn't mind either way.

"I was exhausted, my duel with Diggory was draining. Harry managed to best me in a weakened state. Stranger things have happened."

"Diggory is only half capable at the best of times," Clarissa said. Her eyes bulged as she regarded Fleur.

"He was under the imperius curse, performed by a dark wizard posing as a teacher," Fleur explained.

"Moody," Evélia offered.

"How fucking stupid do you think I am?" Clarissa seethed. "What did Potter promise you? To leave you out of a cage, as if you're a human."

Fleur blinked.

She had known Clarissa to be a bigot, to be an awful person, but it was usually hidden behind others to spread her venom for her.

"How dare you!" Evélia shouted.

"You keep out of this, if you know what's good for you," Clarissa said, looking down her nose at Evélia. The threat seemed to work well enough, as most of Evélia's wrath dimmed.

"Look, this is getting stupid, just go away," Mikaela said.

"No!" Fleur said.

She didn't know why she said it. She wanted nothing more than to be alone with her friends.

"She clearly wants to end this in a fight. I'm happy to pound her ugly rat-face for all the shit she's given us."

Clarissa smirked. Her eyes flashing hatred, and she drew her wand.

Fleur was faster though, her curse flew fast and true, but her incantation sang in the air. Clarissa's jaw slackened.

A body bind curse hit Clarissa, and she collapsed into the wall.

"You're lucky I'm not as awful as you think I am. Now, I'm going to send you to your room, and if I ever see you again just know I can end you without a fuss," Fleur hissed.

The still body of Clarissa floated out of Fleur's door and would find its way back to where it belonged.

"Why didn't you do that years ago?" Mikaela asked.

Fleur shrugged, "I didn't know if it would work."

"Oh," Evélia said. Then she gasped, "OH!"

Mikaela rolled her eyes. And Fleur laughed.

"Look, we have to talk," Fleur said.

She couldn't think of where to begin, there was no—

"We know, Madam Maxime told us about you being pulled out of school early." Mikaela said.

"I'm so sorry, Fleur," Evélia said. "Is there anything we can do?"

Fleur held back tears. Once again shown that despite all her faults, her friends were excellent.

"No, not really. My mother is insistent."

Mikaela flung herself on the bed. She kicked her shoes off and yelled.

"How long do you have left?" she asked.

"Until tonight," she muttered. "My mother seems to think that it's best if we leave for Sofia at night."

"Right, well, we have a few hours. And we will help you pack. God, Fleur, I never thought this day was going to happen." Mikaela said.

"Do you know if your mother has someone picked out?" Evélia asked.

"Not a clue, but I think I have something to work with." Fleur said.

Between Harry and Dumbledore's plans, she could give an illusion of being in a very important situation. She could make them see the worth of her place. That, if anything, would slow them from making a stupid decision.

"This could be our last time together for ages, or ever, I don't want to focus on the bad news. Let's just chat about the good old times," Fleur said.

"Remember when Luc was found skinny dipping in the lake with Mrs. Rivers?" Mikaela giggled.

"Wasn't Mrs. Rivers arrested for that?" Evélia asked, A frown directed at Mikaela.

"Can't blame him though, she was…" Mikaela mused.

Evélia threw one of Mikaela's shoes at her.

Fleur giggled.

It would be hard to leave her life behind, luckily she had no intentions of letting them make her do that. She would fight tooth and claw.

If they had any sense at all, they wouldn't make her.