Chapter Text
Hermione sips on her tea, feeling exhausted. She thinks her head might explode for all thoughts bouncing around in her brain.
She tries repeatedly to quiet them, but it proves a useless task.
Fleur.
It’s all she can circle back to, over and over.
Fleur, dying in her arms.
Fleur, telling her it will be ok as the blood pours from her side.
Fleur, coming to her, for what she assumed would be the last minutes of her life.
Around and around it goes.
“Are you ok Hermione? You look as though Wrackspurts have overtaken your brain.” Luna lilts out, sipping on her tea.
The two of them are seated at the kitchen table, supposedly to have breakfast, but Hermione hasn’t managed to take a bite of her toast since sitting down. Luna’s untouched plate tells Hermione there is a lot going on in her mind as well.
“I’m fine Luna, just tired.” Hermione lies.
Luna makes a soft humming noise, setting her tea cup down. “So, I was curious,” she trails off for a moment, fixing Hermione with her inquisitive gaze, “you and Fleur?”
Hermione isn’t surprised by the question. She figures it was quite obvious the state of things between her and Fleur by the way she paced around the room while Luna worked her healers magic, unable to leave Fleur’s side until she was sure it was not the night Fleur would draw her last breath.
Not to mention the good chunk of the past forty-eight hours Hermione spent curled up beside Fleur, careful not to disturb her body, listening to her unsteady breaths.
Luna even helped run interference with Harry, telling him Hermione was feeling sick, so he wouldn't come to her bedroom.
She’s more surprised it took Luna this long to bring it up.
“Me and Fleur.” Hermione responds back softly, waiting a beat, then two. She decides it's more pressing to discuss a different topic.
“I know, Luna. I know about you.”
Luna regards her carefully, and Hermione knows she understands what she said.
“Do you now? How interesting.”
“After everything we went through with Voldemort, how could you want to wage another war?” It's the question that's been pressing against the edges of Hermione's mind for awhile now.
Luna chuckles, her eyes taking on a humorous glint. “Whoever said anything about a war, Hermione?”
That gives Hermione pause for a moment. She furrows her eyebrows in confusion. “Isn't that what's to come of all this? You kill people for your cause. Fleur has killed people.”
The last part is spoken so softly.
“I've never killed anyone. I find that aspect of things entirely distasteful, you should know. But I do understand a worthy cause sometimes requires some distasteful actions. And as for Fleur, well, personally, I don't judge. I didn't lose what she lost, and certainly not in the way she lost it. But that's really something you should be asking her about yourself.”
Hermione's chest aches as Luna confirms what she's suspected for so long.
Because Fleur never talks about her family in the present tense. Any of them.
Something must show on Hermione's face, because a sad smile curves Luna's lips. “History books so rarely tell the whole story. The struggles of human muggle born against human magical born are well documented, but those that fall somewhat outside the spectrum? That's not something people are so interested in.”
Hermione has to admit she certainly knows that to be true.
Luna continues. “It’s always been interesting to me, people’s convictions on what is right and wrong. As if it can't all be completely reversed, depending on ones background or experiences. I'm actually surprised you don't have more interest in what we're fighting for, given your background.”
“There has to be some sort of scale on wrong and right Luna, otherwise the world would be in chaos.” Hermione reasons.
Luna gives a small smile before responding. “Perhaps. And that scale is easy to understand when it comes to the Voldemort’s of the world, but not every person, every cause, is so easily weighed on such a scale.”
“And how is your cause any different than Voldemort's when people are willing to kill for it?”
Hermione flinches when Luna's teacup rattles as she places it on the table with more force than necessary.
“Grow up Hermione. You know Dumbledore had plenty of blood on his hands during his life, and Harry's hands are far from clean. Neither are yours, for that matter. You think Fleur likes the methods she's directed to use sometimes? It's not an excuse, she herself would tell you that, if you ever bothered to ask her. But all the same.”
Hermione drops her gaze to the table, a sickening feeling clawing at her stomach.
Luna waits until Hermione meets her gaze again. “You know, it seems to me there's a reason you don't know where Fleur goes or what she does when she's not with you.” Her face finally softens. “The head and the heart make interesting bed fellows. We both know which one you’ve spent most of your life listening to. But I wonder…”
She trails off, and Hermione feels a painful twist in her chest.
Luna picks up her tea cup once more, taking a long sip before speaking again. “Sometimes I find if I believe in something, but not in the methods, it's best to find a backdoor. But that all depends on what you want, doesn't it? But then one must be willing to admit what they want.”
Hermione is not really sure what to make of that last part. It's the most Luna has sounded like herself since they started this conversation though.
Luna rises out of her chair slowly, giving Hermione a small smile. “I'm not sure we have much more to say to each other at this point. I’ll take my leave now. Fleur should be back to full strength in a couple of days; do tell her I said to be more careful.”
She’s at the door to the kitchen when she pauses, turning back to Hermione. “Think about what I said.”
Luna’s gone then, leaving Hermione with even more thoughts running through her mind than she started with.
What does she want? She doesn't know.
She laughs bitterly to herself.
Yes she does.
She knows the answer.
She also knows it's not possible.
*****
Hermione spends another twenty-four hours mostly by Fleur's side.
Some moments she spends reading in the chair next to the bed, others curled up on her side facing Fleur, their hands gently entwined on the bed between them.
She's trying to stay awake until Fleur fully comes around, but it's a struggle. Her eyelids keep fluttering shut.
Maybe just a moment of rest...
Hermione awakens with a start, forgetting for a moment where she is. When she sees Fleur carefully easing on a jacket it all comes back with sharp clarity.
“What do you think you’re doing?” The question comes out much harsher than she intends.
Fleur looks a little sheepish. “I didn’t want to wake you, you looked exhausted.”
Hermione scrubs at her face with her hands. “That’s because I am exhausted Fleur. But that doesn’t answer my question. What are you doing?”
Fleur gives her a sad smile, and it makes something ache in the pit of Hermione’s stomach. “There’s something I have to take care of Hermione. I am sorry I gave you such a fright.”
Fleur looks confused when Hermione starts laughing. Even Hermione is not sure why she’s doing it, only that it doesn’t feel humorous at all. The laughter tastes bitter in her mouth, and it dies out after a moment.
She’s swinging her legs off the bed and standing as the words start pouring out. “Gave me a fright? Is that what you would call it? You almost died Fleur. Here, in my arms.”
Fleur looks like a deer caught in the headlights, unsure of what to do or what to say. It suits Hermione just fine, because she’s not done.
She takes steps towards Fleur, her voice getting more and more uneven as she continues.
“Do you have any idea how it felt? To watch the blood leaving your body? To not be able to stop it? To-” she stops, her fingers curling into her palms, arms rigid at her sides as she attempts to stop the tears forming in her eyes from falling.
“I’m sorry.” It’s all that Fleur says, anguish clear on her face.
Hermione swipes angrily at her cheeks. “You’re sorry? That’s not good enough Fleur. I thought I’d lost you. If it wasn’t for Luna, I would have.”
The tears are falling uncontrollably now, and Hermione hates it. She hates how out of control she feels. Hates that the idea of losing Fleur makes her want to crumple into a ball on her bed and not emerge from the comfort of the blankets for days. Maybe even forever.
“I can’t do this anymore Fleur.” The words are out of her mouth before she can even think on them. She just knows this hurts too much, and she needs it to stop. “Don't you understand? I can't. If you died-” her voice cracks and Hermione covers her mouth with her hands to hold back the sob lodged in her chest.
Fleur stays silent, a tear running down her cheek. There's so much pain evident in her eyes as she slowly approaches Hermione, drawing her softly into her arms.
Hermione lets her, unable to stop herself from curling into the comfort of Fleur’s arms.
“This hurts Fleur. This hurts, and I don't know how to make it stop.” Hermione admits, burying her face in Fleur's neck.
“Oh chérie, I am so sorry.” Fleur whispers in Hermione’s ear, pressing a soft kiss into her hair. “I never meant for this to happen. I’ll never hurt you again, I promise.”
They stand like that, silently for a minute. Finally, she squeezes Hermione tighter, placing one more kiss to her temple. Then she speaks a string of words softly in Hermione’s ear.
They're complicated spell words, ending in one particular word.
Obliviate.
Hermione stiffens in her arms, and Fleur draws back slowly, knowing she'll be feeling very confused right now. She steps back completely, and it feels like a knife to her heart when Hermione looks at her like she’s never known her.
“What-?” The soft question leaves Hermione’s lips, her brow furrowed, and Fleur can’t take another second. She turns on the spot, disapperating.
It’s only when she reappears, halfway across the country, that she lets the strangled sob leave her lips.
*****
It’s been over a month since Hermione was cast in a cloud of confusion.
She traces a line along the map sitting flat on her desk, going over her plans for what feels like the millionth time.
She’s made her decisions on the future, and she feels calmer than she has in so very long. Perhaps the most calm she’s felt since before stepping her first foot in Hogwarts.
“Hey there.”
Harry startles her out of her thoughts. He’s leaning against the door frame, watching her carefully. After a moment his eyes sweep over to where she has all her bags packed, stacked in a neat pile.
“Are you sure about…everything?” He asks, holding her gaze.
She gives him a small smile, hoping to look reassuring, before responding in an even voice “I don’t think I’ve ever been surer of anything.”
Harry smiles softly at that, giving her a small nod before straightening from the frame. “Well then, I guess we better get to it.”
Hermione looks down at the map again.
It’s time.
*****
Fleur is barely even listening to the diatribe going on in front of her. She already knows her fate. She’s known it for months now.
Ever since she let something crawl its way inside her and change her priorities, her fate has been sealed.
She really ought to say ‘someone’, rather than something, but she refuses to let her mind go there at this point. What’s done is done.
She only tunes back in when it sounds like the man speaking is just about done. Her eyes take in the number of people in the room. It seems like overkill given that it’s only her day of reckoning, and not someone more important.
Finally, the man stops talking, and Fleur brings her eyes back to meet his.
“Do you have any idea how disappointing this is Fleur? You directly disobeyed my order to kill that boy. I had such high hopes for you. I thought you would be by my side when we achieved our new world. A world I thought you very much believed in?”
Fleur just stares at him mutely. She doesn't bother to say that his order to kill a boy makes him a whole lot more like Voldemort than she ever wanted to believe. It no longer matters what she believes anyway.
The man sighs with disappointment. “Very well then. Fleur Delacour, thank you for your service to our cause.” The words sound kind, but the manner in which he raises his wand, and the spell he intends to cast, is not.
Fleur bows her head, having no desire to watch the jet of green light shoot towards her.
She waits.
And then she waits some more.
She finally raises her head in confusion, only to find her would be executioner frozen like a stone, mouth open and ready to speak the words that would end her life, arm stretched out towards her.
The room explodes into chaos, but it’s over quickly. Everyone who had come to watch Fleur meet her untimely end either frozen or stuck struggling against invisible bonds.
The room is now swarming with aurors, some of them whom Fleur recognizes, and one in particular who is striding right towards her.
“Harry.” She greets him quietly, unsure of what is about to transpire, but quite certain he is not here to make small talk.
He does look quite dashing in his black peacoat, and Fleur is surprised to find she's genuinely happy for him that he seems to be making a new life for himself after the fall of Voldemort.
“Fleur.” He nods to her, keeping his wand raised and pointed at her, but his voice does not hold any maliciousness. Curious.
“Everyone else, clear out! Get them to the ministry for questioning. I’ll take her back myself.” He calls out surely, waiting until everyone has disapperated, a firm hold on their detainees.
Once he’s sure everyone is gone he turns back to Fleur, looking a bit apologetic. “Sorry about this Fleur, but it is protocol.” He waves his wand and Fleur's hands are bound by invisible shackles down in front of her body.
“I understand Harry. It is okay.” She says.
Because it is. She understands what is happening here.
And then, in the next second, she doesn’t understand anything at all, because Harry is turning away from her, calling out “I can give you five minutes,” to someone Fleur can’t see, and then Hermione is there, and she's the only thing Fleur can see.
She doesn’t even care that Hermione looks ready to spit fire, her stomach still flips at the sight of her. She was convinced she’d never see her again.
She can’t stop the smile spreading across her face.
“Why are you smiling?” Hermione bites out tersely, stopping in front of Fleur, just out of reach. “There is nothing to smile about right now.”
“I don’t understand how you are here.” Fleur states.
“And that’s a reason to smile?”
“You know who I am?”
That gets Hermione’s eyes blazing, and she levels Fleur with a look that makes her think maybe that was the wrong thing to ask.
“Do I know who you are? Tell me Fleur, why on earth wouldn’t I know who you are, hm?” It’s a rhetorical question, and Hermione just keeps talking. “Would it be because you thought the best response to a difficult situation was to try and erase my memories of you?”
Now Hermione waits, and it’s clear she’s ready for Fleur to speak.
“It was the only way I could think of to make things right.”
“Well if that isn't the stupidest...By trying to erase my memories of you?!” Hermione is shouting, her hands going into the animated state that happens when she gets really worked up. “Why ever would you think that would make things right?!”
“You were hurting,” Fleur snaps, “and I couldn’t take it. I panicked. You do not understand.”
“I don’t understand?” Hermione pokes her own sternum sharply. “I was the one who had to watch you almost die. It sent me into a tailspin Fleur. And instead of giving me time to figure out my feelings, you go and try to erase my memories. I shouldn't even be here after you pulling something like that!”
Fleur bites her tongue to keep herself from mentioning Hermione wiped her parents’ entire memories clean without asking them. Fleur merely tried to erase herself, keeping everything else in tact. That should count for something.
Instead she huffs out “How did you get them back?”
She’s trying to make sense out of everything, and even more desperately trying to stamp down the tiny sliver of hope that is starting to form deep down.
Hermione raises her eyebrows. “My memories? I never lost them Fleur.” She says it evenly, as if it should be obvious.
“What?” Fleur breaths out in shock.
Hermione is shaking her head. “I never lost them.”
“How is that possible?”
“I’ll ignore the obvious egotism in that statement, and instead point out that apparently you don’t understand things as well as you think you do. You can’t harm me Fleur.”
“Yes, I am all too well aware of that. What does that have to do with anything?” Fleur says.
Hermione takes another step forward, entering Fleur personal space, and Fleur’s heart starts to thud in her chest.
“Did it not occur to you that erasing the best memories I had from the past year would be the most harmful thing you could do to me?”
Fleur blinks, woefully unprepared for the feelings that swirl up within her. “The best memories?” She asks it softly, afraid that maybe she didn’t hear right.
Hermione rolls her eyes before answering.
“Yes Fleur, the best memories.” Her tone is a bit exasperated, but then she meets Fleur’s eyes, and there’s a softening there.
Hermione shrugs, and when she starts speaking again her voice is quieter, but sure. “I’m in love with you Fleur. How could you not have known that?”
“I -” Fleur can’t find any words to say. She just keeps hearing the statement over and over in her head.
A throat clearing from the doorway breaks the moment, and Hermione turns away to face Harry, who is sporting a very apologetic look on his face.
“I’m really sorry Hermione, but if I wait any longer people might get suspicious.”
Hermione nods, turning back to take one last look at Fleur. “It has to be this way.” She whispers it, and Fleur understands, because what other way could this end?
Then Hermione is walking away, and Fleur wishes there was more time. Wishes she could find the right words.
After three steps Hermione stops and turns on her heel, marching back to Fleur and pulling her down into a firm kiss that is all too brief. Fleur breaths through her nose, her brow furrowing in anguish at the knowledge that this is the last kiss they will ever share.
And then Hermione releases her, walking quickly away without a look back.
She pauses in the doorway next to Harry for just a moment, as he lays a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll make sure to get her the best situation possible Hermione. Do you want me to keep you updated?”
Hermione shakes her head, giving him a small smile. “No Harry, I’d prefer not to spend too much time thinking about it.”
He nods solemnly in understanding. “All right then, you take care of yourself, okay? I expect an owl within a week.”
“You have my word. And please, tell Luna thank you.” She walks out of the room, pausing for one last moment. “Oh and Harry, try not to drink too much without me.”
And then she’s gone.
Harry walks over to where Fleur is waiting, giving her a reassuring smile before speaking.
“Fleur Delacour, as an auror in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, under the Ministry of Magic, it is my duty to inform you that you are under arrest.”
Fleur nods at him solemnly, understanding the need for proper protocol. None of what is about to come matters to her right now anyway.
Hermione loves her. Even as the ache starts in her chest at the realization she'll never see her again, she can't let go of the fact that she loves her.
Harry starts speaking again. “While the department greatly appreciates your tip off about tonight’s meeting, I’m sure you understand we must follow through with official procedures.”
Harry tries not to laugh at the confused look on Fleur’s face.
“However, your cooperation, and your willingness to divulge information in the forthcoming interrogations will both be considered when it comes time for your sentencing.”
This time he can’t keep the smirk from his face as he takes a hold of her arm and they disappear from the room.
*****
Dear Harry,
I’m sorry my first few letters have been so short. I needed some time to gather my thoughts before sending you a proper correspondence.
I’d like to start this one by saying thank you. Thank you for being the very best friend a person could ever ask for. I was terrified Harry; terrified to tell you about everything with Fleur. I was afraid you would look at me different; that you wouldn’t understand how I could ever feel the things I was feeling.
But you didn’t. You were calm, and collected, and when you asked me how the kissing was, well, I wanted to deck you, but I knew in that moment you were a better friend than I ever had a right to ask for. So thank you. Thank you for letting me speak freely about her. You’ll never know how much it helped sort things out in my own head.
I know I asked you to not give any updates, but I just need to know if things are going okay. Just a simple yes or no will suffice, and we will not speak again on the topic.
My new position with the Ministry is going really well. The current cottage I am staying in is a little musty and damp, but it rather reminds me of our days on the road searching for horcruxes.
Communications with the village are going well, and I should be moving on to the next place in a week or so. I’m rather enjoying my nomadic lifestyle.
I better get to sleep, I have an early meeting in the morning. I do hope you are taking care of yourself, and not running yourself too ragged.
Hermione
P.S. Say hello to Ginny for me on your next date.
*****
Hermione really enjoys her position at the Ministry. She works as a liaison to outlying villages with mixed residents of people and magical creatures. There is no set time period for her to stay in each place, and the freedom that comes with that makes Hermione breathe easy.
It’s been almost three months since she packed all her bags and embarked on this (at least) two year job, and the constant movement, the regular interactions, help keep her mind focused and off other things.
She goes to bed each night with a quiet knowledge, a sureness that she never puts words to, but it’s there, whispering in the back of her mind.
For now that’s all she needs.
She receives Harry’s reply to her latest letter over morning tea. She smiles as she reads over it slowly, missing her friend dearly, but knowing she is exactly where she needs to be.
Dear Hermione,
I’m glad to hear things are going so well. I’m excited to hear how everything is going at your current assignment. The Ministry is lucky to have you.
I wish I could say ‘you’re welcome’ in regards to my reaction to you opening up to me about Fleur, but the truth is, I don’t feel like I did anything all that special.
You are my best friend Hermione (well, along with Ron, but we both know what a git he is sometimes, so you win a prize). For a long time after the war I could sense your sadness. It mirrored my own in some ways, but in others, it was very different. You bared it silently, but I could see it, everyday. All I hoped for at the time was for something to come along to help you find yourself again. I thought perhaps going back to Hogwarts would help, but I think maybe what you needed was Fleur.
What type of friend would I be to judge what brings you happiness Hermione? I mean, besides becoming a death eater, I would judge that. But ultimately, it wasn’t hard at all to understand.
All right, enough of this, I'm reinstating my stiff upper lip. Keep me posted, especially of where you end up next.
And as to the update you requested, things are going well.
Harry
P.S. How did you know Ginny and I were dating again?
Hermione chuckles to herself at the postscript, because honestly, Harry can be so daft sometimes.
The letter gives her great comfort, and she tucks it away on the small writing desk she transports with her from place to place before heading out on her work day.
*****
Hermione works slowly, turning the soil over in her garden, getting her hands dirty while the sun sinks low on the horizon.
She likes it here, at this small cottage located in a sleepy little village. It’s been her favorite place to live as of yet, and she’s toying with the idea of keeping the cottage permanently, as her own quiet, lovely place to come back to when she wants.
It’s been over a year now. Hermione likes the life she’s built for herself, and she finds herself fulfilled in a way she never thought she would be in almost every aspect of her life.
Things are good, and so she waits.
It’s when she’s rinsing off the vegetables from the garden in her small little kitchen, windows and back door open to the warm summer breeze as the sunset begins to set, that it finally happens.
She senses it, senses her, before anything else.
She’s felt a sureness all along, and now she’s certain as she reaches out slowly to turn off the water.
She turns around silently, and when she comes to a stop she has to fight to keep her breath.
Fleur leans casually in the door frame, in jeans and a white peasant blouse, hair in a messy ponytail (that somehow still looks perfect), with the sun setting behind her. Hermione knows she’s never seen a more beautiful sight.
Hermione stays silent, trying to keep her erratic heartbeat in check, waiting. She figures after this long, what are a few minutes more?
Fleur arches a single eyebrow before speaking. It’s cute to Hermione how she has to clear her throat before getting the words out.
“I have travelled a long way, and I was wondering if there might be somewhere I could stay tonight?”
Such a simple sounding question if the words meant as little as how they were strung together. But they don’t, and Hermione knows it.
It feels as though there is a gravitational pull on her body towards Fleur, but she continues fighting it.
“Perhaps. I suppose it depends. Are you a reformed woman?”
One corner of Fleur’s mouth curls up softly. “Reformed?” She repeats, her eyes drifting away to look around the cottage, taking everything in. “Hard to say.”
Hermione holds her breath, waiting. It’s easy to do after all this time.
Finally Fleur begins speaking again. “But in love?” Her eyes make their way back to Hermione’s and hold steady there. “That is something I very much am.”
And Hermione is done waiting.
Her feet move surely, taking her before Fleur. She hooks a finger in a single belt loop on Fleur’s jeans, giving a gentle tug to pull her closer, tipping her head back to meet Fleur’s soft kiss.
She mumbles against Fleur lips, “Then I think there is definitely somewhere you can stay.”
It's not until later, when they are climbing onto the bed, their lips and hands and legs entangled to the point it's impossible to tell where they each begin and end, that Hermione feels whole again.
When Fleur pulls back to catch her gaze there's an intensity there that causes a hitch in Hermione's breath. It's only when Fleur gently pushes inside of her that she releases it.
“I love you.” Fleur murmurs, and Hermione is captivated by the fire that so clearly burns in her blue eyes.
“I love you too.”
The smile that curls Fleur's lips spreads a warmth through Hermione, starting in her chest and spreading outward till it reaches everywhere.
Before she knows it, she's coming undone. And undone and undone and undone.
*****
The candle on her writing desk is almost at its end. Hermione dips her writing quill into the inkpot and takes in Fleur's sleeping form. She can't help the soft smile forming on her face.
Her letter to Harry isn't quite finished, but a glance out the window lets her know the time to wake Fleur has come.
It's with a soft kiss to her temple and a gentle hand on her shoulder that Hermione brings Fleur awake. The hazy look of adoration in Fleur's still half asleep gaze almost convinces Hermione to crawl back into bed.
Almost.
She gathers an armful of blankets while Fleur puts on her clothes, albeit grumpily, and she leads the way out to the garden area.
Fleur catches on when they arrive at the lounge chair, arranging herself before opening her arms for Hermione to snuggle back against her.
The pile of blankets piled on top of them, and their body heat, wards off the early morning chill in the air.
Hermione sighs contently as the sun first breaks over the horizon, and a shiver overtakes her body at the feel of Fleur's lips pressed softly behind her ear.
“I hope I get a million sunrises with you Hermione.” Fleur whispers, squeezing her gently.
Hermione takes a slow breath as her eyes close at the sentiment. She knows they have things to talk about, things to work through, she's not naïve. But nothing has ever felt as right as this moment.
“You do?” Hermione asks, idly stroking at Fleur's fingers wrapped in hers underneath the blankets.
“I do.” Fleur drops her chin onto Hermione's shoulder. “And I will do everything in my power to make sure it happens.”
Hermione buries her smile in the blankets for a moment before turning her head to capture Fleur's lips in a short kiss.
“Promise?”
It's whispered, a prayer wrapped up in a question. And when the answer comes Hermione has never been so sure of anything in her life.
“Promise.”