A/N

A Fleur & Hermione story. This story is essentially a romance/drama and is femmeslash. It has adult themes, scenes and language, so if you're offended by that sort of stuff, don't read it. It's rated M for a reason. The story starts just before Hermione is taken to Shell Cottage after Bellatrix Lestrange has finished with her.

This story is another written for my own entertainment sparked from an idea I got while watching a French documentary film a couple of years ago. I might reveal what the film was at a later point. So if you like this story, great, if you don't, no hard feelings. But I thought I'd share it anyway. It's taken a long time between starting and finishing it, due to lots of time constraints and things going on in my real life. But I wanted to finish it, before I started posting the chapters. I used to hate seeing so many unfinished stories on here. This story will have 25 chapters. All are ready to post, so it just needs me to find the time to keep adding them.

I actually haven't read any Potter fanfiction for a very long time, to keep myself fresh and not be influenced, although I do believe that the point(and sentiment) where my story starts, has been done before, but the journey of the whole story hasn't...not to my knowledge, unless there's someone as equally nutty as me out there. So before you think it's the same old stuff, believe me, it goes somewhere else...most probably into the land of 'wtf' for some people, but was something I wanted to play around with. And it has some characters I had in my head that I wanted to introduce.

I have taken certain liberties and added my own mythology, and in some places physiology, to things with a slightly different take on veelas. I have used a combination of book and movie foundation for the characters and some scenes/settings. Fans and champions of Luna might like some of her content in this story.

If you're only after sex and more sex, this might not be the story for you. There is some sex - quite a bit - but there is an actual story here too. So those 'skimmers' out there might find some stuff to their liking, but might be frustrated in having to get through the story to find it. LOL

As always I've chosen not to write Fleur with that bloody awful exaggerated French accent. Not only does it drive me a little crazy reading it, but I think it's a bit insulting. I can write/read/speak a little French, but have chosen not to use it in the story to stop confusion and I've added a few bits of writer's licence to accommodate the choice. The actress Clémence Poésy who plays Fleur in the movies actually speaks English with hardly any accent at all in real life, which also decided things for me.

Any mistakes on spelling, grammar, typing, continuity and general brain-fart errors, are entirely my doing. I don't own the characters, just borrowed them for a little while.

Right, that's the boring A/N bit done...for now...although you might find the story boring. Anyways...here's the first couple of chapters...

1: Taken

The unthinkable had happened; they had been captured, and despite Hermione's best efforts to conceal their true identities there was enough suspicion in their manner that had made their burly captors hesitate. As intellectually challenged as Greyback and his companions were, they had sensed that the three young people they had captured were much more than they had claimed to be. It was enough to change their course of action and to divert their intentions from taking their captives to the Ministry and taking them instead to a higher power: to Malfoy Manor and the Dark Lord himself.

Hermione had wracked her brain, desperately trying to find some course of action she could take to enable them to get away. Everything that came to her mind was impossible to achieve; impossible to achieve and get all three of them away, and there was no way she was going to leave anyone behind. She had an overwhelming feeling that this might be 'it'. At several points in the past few weeks and months, Harry, Ron and herself had faced immense danger and as scared as she had become at times, she had always felt that something would happen and they would escape, like they always had done over the years.

Walking through the tall foreboding iron gates, leading to a large country manor house, she didn't feel that spark within her that said an opportunity would arrive at any second, providing she kept her eyes and other senses alert. No, this time she felt helpless, and to an extent, hopeless too. She was scared: for herself, for Ron and most importantly for Harry; the implications of what might happen to Harry also weren't lost on her: if they lost him, it would all be over, of that she was sure, and the whole magical and muggle world would be at Voldemort's mercy.

In mere moments, Hermione's wonderings and fears about their location were confirmed when they were shown into the main drawing room of the house, to be faced by Bellatrix Lestrange, along with her slightly more sane sister, Narcissa, and the latter's husband and son. They were at Malfoy Manor and where everyone knew it to be the heart of Voldemort's operations.

Hermione had nervously searched the room with her eyes, sure that Voldemort himself would stand up from a chair somewhere. She had had hardly any time to look around and take in any of her surroundings and furnishings before everything happened at once, drastically. What had started as a preening session from Bellatrix at how grand everything was and how pathetic they all were, had turned in a flash, when the Sword of Gryffindor was revealed. Something had clearly unnerved the black-haired witch and she started shouting madly at everyone, including at her own lackeys, whom had brought in the captives.

Not being able to react, with having no wand, and not having the time to think of anything to do, Hermione was horrified to see Harry and Ron whisked away from the room and the next thing she knew she was being pinned to a wall, with Bellatrix's fierce dilated eyes staring into her face and the witch's wand poking into the side of her throat. Coherrent thought processes ceased after this point, as Hermione was aware of some new sensations: the strongest sensation was pain: a lot of pain, everywhere.

It was a type of pain she had never felt before, as it wracked her whole body, yet as much as she wanted to curl up, she couldn't move and was compelled to be exactly where Bellatrix wanted her. At times she was pinned to the wall, at times to the floor and all the while having the Lestrange woman shouting at her and muttering things she didn't understand. At times Hermione could only scream in pain; she was aware that Bellatrix seemed to think that she, Ron and Harry had been into her vault at Gringotts, but that made no sense to the brunette. When she refused to answer, it was met with more painful consequences; when she did answer, it so obviously didn't please her captor and pain would result from that as well.

It became apparent to Hermione that she had been attacked with the Cruciatus curse a few times, and also other things, because she had felt burning to her feet and hands, which would disappear again; she felt magical punches at random places, and other unexplainable pain as if from serious injuries: from being stabbed, to having a limb sliced off. After a very short time she felt her mind drift and felt herself almost become unconscious, not knowing how long her ordeal had been or how much more was to come. It might have been a few minutes or even a few hours, she had no comprehension of time at all. The pain and suggestions of pain, which completely befuddled her, seemed to last a long time, and were happening with more frequency as Bellatrix continued to interrogate her and became more frustrated with her. Like a breath leaving her body, she felt 'hope' begin to fade, and she felt herself pass into an almost catatonic acceptance of being helpless.

At one point Hermione was sure she had heard Ron shouting her name, but then wasn't so sure again, and wondered if she had imagined it. Hermione just wanted it all to end, and she thought it didn't matter if she said anything or not in answer to the questions, her life was already forfeit; even so she was determined to say nothing about Harry, Ron or anyone else they knew and remained silent. The last thought she had before everything went black and her hearing receded was a disturbing thought about Neville Longbottom's parents after Bellatrix had finished with them. Better to be dead, than that! thought Hermione sadly, as she lost her fight for consciousness.

The only thing Hermione remembered with any clarity after then, was the pain stopping, some sort of kerfuffle, a little more pain, then feeling arms around her and Ron talking to her. Oddly she remembered a woman's voice right along with Ron's, and she was sure it was Luna, which made no sense to her at all. To confuse her further she heard Ron, the woman she thought was Luna, definitely Harry and that was joined by another couple of voices which she thought had been Bill and Fleur and another voice or two which sounded familiar but she didn't really recognize; that made no sense either. She had tried to open her eyes, but everything was blurred and everything was too painfully bright, so she shut her eyes again.

After an indeterminate amount of time, she opened her eyes again and saw she was in a bed, in a strange room; the curtains were closed and a lamp was on low. Her mind felt slow and as if her head was too big for her body. I was dreaming about the others, she thought, miserably. I was dreaming of what I hoped for. Which means I'm still at Malfoy Manor. I'm probably only in here because I passed out and was no more use to them until I'm awake again. Awake? That means the pain will start again. No!

The despair that hit Hermione immediately brought tears to her eyes, she tried to say 'No!' but she couldn't seem to voice it or even whisper it. She heard footsteps outside the bedroom door and like a frightened animal she curled up into the foetal position on her side and pulled the bedcover over her head. She was shivering, shaking and cowering from what, and whom, she thought was coming for her again. The only sound she seemed to be making was a faint whining noise. She thought she sounded like a pining, scolded dog, but it was beyond her control.

The door opened and closed again, and Hermione felt the weight of someone sit on the bed and then place a hand on her; she flinched, and began to shiver more and almost convulse. "It's okay, Hermione. You're safe here," said a woman's voice, softly.

The bedcover was carefully pulled away, despite Hermione gripping it to try and remain covered; the light revealed Fleur, looking at her with concern. Hermione opened and shut her eyes a couple of times, trying to ascertain that she was indeed awake. She must have looked confused as Fleur said, "Yes, it's really me, and you're safe here."

Fleur rested her hand on Hermione's shoulder, a perfectly normal gesture of comfort and grounding, but Hermione flinched dramatically once more and continued to shake. Again the younger woman must have looked untrusting or gave a look like she was being tricked or feeling delusional as Fleur tried to reassure her more.

"I'm Fleur Weasley, formally Delacour, I have a sister called Gabrielle and the first night I stayed at Hogwarts during the Triwizard Tournament, I asked for the bouillabaisse at dinner from your table."

Hermione's mind worked hard to take in the information. "Oh..." was all she could whisper.

"You are safe here. You escaped and they brought you here."

"The..the...they?" asked Hermione in a rasping croaky voice, as realization hit her. "Harry...?"

"Hey, they're fine," said Fleur, giving a warm smile. "Harry and Ron are staying here too, along with Luna, Dean Thomas, Mr. Ollivander and a ghastly goblin called Griphook."

Hermione shook her head, not being able to think clearly at all and wondering where on earth Luna and Dean and the wandmaker had come from and how they had a goblin with them too. The room she was in didn't look like any room at the Burrow, or anywhere she had seen before, but Fleur seemed to read her thoughts.

"You're at Shell Cottage, on the coast in Devon," said Fleur. "Bill and I have lived here a while. It's also an Order safe house."

Hermione tried to speak again, but her body was almost chattering again, she couldn't form any words as a wave of relief hit her with a huge jolt of nausea, which made her try to sit up and swing herself out of bed at the same time and she failed at both as she retched. Amazingly Fleur had seemed to sense what Hermione was feeling and had used the Accio spell on a bowl, as Hermione vomited, sitting up on the side of the bed and nearly falling off the bed in the process had Fleur not had an arm around her.

"Ss...s...ss...sorr...sorry," croaked a still shaking Hermione, embarrassed, as Fleur helped her to lie back against the pillows.

"I don't want to hear you saying sorry to me," said Fleur with a serious expression. "I think you have been through hell. You have nothing to be sorry for." She gently brushed back strands of Hermione's hair which had fallen over her face and stuck there against the brunette's slightly sweaty skin. Another use of Accio and Fleur used a cool damp cloth to soothingly wipe Hermione forehead and face. "I'm going to look after you and I'm going to be here for you."

In that moment Hermione felt so ill, and confused as well, that she didn't have the energy to refuse or question what Fleur had said, and she had so far seemed to have lost the ability to talk properly anyway. However, the feeling of relief at finally being safe and not having pain anymore overwhelmed her; it also puzzled her as to how the cruelty she had received had resulted in these bizarre side effects. She was trying to remember everything she had read about the Cruciatus curse, from the basic minor trauma and mental anguish, to the extreme case of Neville Longbottom's parents, which worried her a great deal, but she couldn't seem to think clearly. As the thoughts confounded her she found her vision blackening once more, and her whole body go lax, and sink into the soft bed beneath her, despite being aware of a rogue shiver coursing through her body.

It must have been much later when Hermione awoke, and saw that the curtains had been drawn back a fraction to let in some light; she could see a blue sky with a few fluffy white clouds, which, as she stared long and hard at one clump, she could see they were moving across the sky. She couldn't look for more than a few moments, though, as the brightness made her eyes and head ache. It had taken her a few anxious moments to realize she was still at Shell Cottage and that her escape had been real.

Not long after Hermione woke up, Fleur walked into the room and as Hermione was lying on her side facing the window, with her back to the door, Fleur walked around the bed so she could see the brunette more clearly.

"You're awake," said Fleur. "I've kept checking on you when you stirred, but I thought you'd be asleep a lot longer."

Hermione didn't answer, but nodded her head.

"Would you like a cup of tea? A cup of cocoa? Juice?"

Again Hermione didn't answer, but gave the faintest of shakes of her head, and moved her gaze from Fleur to looking back out the window again, but finding the light still hurting her eyes, she closed her eyelids.

Fleur wasn't unduly perturbed. She poured out a glass of water from the jug on the bedside cabinet. "Try to at least drink some of that," she said kindly.

Hermione didn't respond and remained with her eyes shut, unsure herself as to why she was being silent and nearly mute. A few footsteps told her that Fleur was going to leave the room.

"I'll...I'll leave you to rest," said Fleur.

The door opened and closed and Hermione heard lowered voices outside the door. She reached for the glass of water and had a few sips as she listened.

"How is she?" asked the voice which Hermione knew was Ron's.

"She's sleeping," replied Fleur.

"Sleeping?" said Ron. "She's been sleeping for bloody hours!"

"She probably needs it," said a solemn voice, Hermione recognized as Harry. "We only heard some of it...but I know it sounded to us like it went on forever...whatever, you know, happened to her."

"Can we go in and see her?" asked Ron.

"No, not yet," said Fleur.

"But...but...we're her best friends?!" said an exasperated Ron. "We can make her feel better...I know she'll feel better if she sees us! I was told she sat with me when I was ill after I had that poisoned wine from Slughorn."

"Ron, she's not suffering with flu or a poisoned drink, from all you've told me she's been tortured!" said a very stern Fleur, an unmistakable waver in her voice. "We have to give her time and not rush her, or push ourselves on to her, or into her company. So far I don't even know if she has any injuries...and..."

There was some whispering and the sounds of footsteps fading. Hermione couldn't even smile at the obvious concern her friends had for her; not even a smile for hearing Ron being so desperate to see her and the tone of his voice making it obvious that he cared for her, despite his silence in not actually asking her out yet. No, the thoughts that Hermione held on to were about Fleur and in a lot of ways that surprised her.

Hermione and Fleur had a history of sorts, and it wasn't a particularly comfortable past. The brunette wondered why she was fretting over Fleur instead of staying with thoughts on Harry and Ron, or even why she wasn't wondering about the others in the house, or another horcrux, or what they needed to do next. Her whole body ached and she had been made to feel so much pain that she had no idea if she really was injured anywhere. As sluggish as she felt, she went over what she had heard since her awareness of being in Shell Cottage. As her mind went over events, like a person flicking through folders in a filing cabinet, it came to her: it was Fleur wanting to look after her and it was Fleur saying that people must not push themselves on to her.

Push themselves on to me? thought Hermione. She's so obviously pushing herself on to me as some sort of nursemaid! She thought it through again. Maybe that's unfair, because I'm sure I'm sort of awkward to deal with at the moment...and I did nearly throw up all over her. The trouble is she's just as awkward as I am. If only what happened hadn't happened...none of it!

Lying in a comfortable bed, wanting to think about anything other than the last couple of days, Hermione went back through her rather vivid collection of memories, and her dealings with, whom was then, Fleur Delacour.

Fleur had first come into Hermione's life when the Triwizard Tournament was held at Hogwarts but the implications of their acquaintance during that time hadn't come to a head until the summer of 1996, shortly before Hermione, Harry and Ron were due to start their Sixth year at Hogwarts. Hermione had been on holiday to France with her parents that summer, searching for her father's ancestors' graves in the vast World War One military cemeteries of northern France and southern Belgium, including some around the area of the Somme. It might have been seen as boring or odd by some, but Hermione still enjoyed the time with her parents and with experiencing new and interesting things.

With around a week before school started again, Ginny had invited her over to the Burrow for the final few days of the holiday; she had been most insistent about it, in fact, and had mentioned something about a surprise when she got there. When Hermione had arrived, feeling a little nervous about seeing Ron again, and hoping he might have matured enough to actually ask her out, Ginny had nearly bowled her over when she greeted her.

"You're a life-saver!" Ginny said as she engulfed Hermione in a hug. "I couldn't wait till you arrived. If you couldn't have visited I'd have come over and kidnapped you!"

Mrs. Weasley had appeared from somewhere in the house and greeted Hermione, proceeding to then immediately offer food and drink, as was usual when anyone first arrived at the Burrow; when Hermione declined, Mrs. Weasley went off outside, leaving the friends to talk and Hermione to settle in. Ron had stood in the kitchen and looked uncomfortable as if he didn't know whether to hug Hermione too, so he sort of waved at her instead.

"All right, Hermione?" Ron asked.

"Yes," answered the brunette, feeling equally uncomfortable and wanting to talk about something distracting instead. "Have you heard from Harry?"

"No, I never expect to. Dad's heard that he's okay, so he must be. I'm hoping he gets to spend the last couple of days with us, but there's no telling with him or what Dumbledore wants him to do."

"And everyone's been okay here?" asked Hermione.

"If madness is seen as okay, then yes," replied Ron.

"Madness?" Hermione asked both Ron and Ginny.

"You can tell her, Ginny," said Ron with a little laugh.

"Tell me what?" said Hermione, the curiosity nearly making her feel irritable.

"We've got a guest staying," said Ginny in a rather haughty voice.

"Who? An aunt?" wondered Hermione.

"I wish!" said Ginny. "I'd rather have three Auntie Muriels staying than the stuck up tart we're lumbered with."

Hermione had felt very confused and was looking from Ron to Ginny and back again, not knowing who on earth they were talking about. "I can't guess, so you're going to have to tell me."

"It's Bill...," began Ron, then he stopped to laugh over the situation.

"Well, I know Bill isn't a stuck up tart?!" said Hermione.

"It's Bill's bloody girlfriend!" said Ginny.

"No, Ginny, remember it's his fiancée!" said Ron in a mock posh voice.

"Whatever!" said Ginny. "All I know is he has the worst taste ever! Of all the women, he picks her!"

"She's not that bad, really," said Ron.

Ginny glared at her brother. "You would say that, just because you get a bulge in your trousers if she so much as looks at you!" Ron looked about to protest with something scathing, if only he could find the words.

Hermione still didn't know who they were talking about. "Do I know her? Who is it?"

"Oh, you know her," said Ginny. "It's only bloody..."

The door had opened then and in walked Bill, followed by a very attractive blonde woman; a very attractive familiar blonde woman.

"Hello, hello!" said Bill. "You arrived safely, then, Hermione? We hoped we'd get back from the shops to see you arrive."

"Ye..yeah, everything's fine...thanks," replied Hermione, taken completely off guard by the arrivals.

"I think you know my fiancée," said Bill, proudly taking hold of the blonde woman's hand.

"It's nice to see you again, Hermione," said Fleur Delacour, as she stood next to her husband-to-be.

"Er..hi, Fleur," said Hermione, not feeling completely able to get her tongue and brain working in the correct manner.

When Fleur had walked into the kitchen, Hermione had felt ice go through her veins, and down her spine. Of all the people she didn't want to see again, Fleur was at the top of the list at that point in time; yet here she was and it seemed likely that they'd be sharing the same house for the next few days, at least.

"Um...I think I'd better take my bag upstairs, Ginny," Hermione had managed to say.

Ginny didn't need anymore prompting, she always took any excuse to leave the presence of the former Beauxbatons student. Once in her room with the door closed both girls sat on their beds facing each other.

"Now you see why I was going crazy here!" said Ginny. "My brothers tend to just drool at her, even though they claim they don't like her. Mum can't stand her either, but she's nice to her face to keep the peace. Arggghhhhh!"

"You weren't wrong on surprises," said Hermione. "Nasty surprise."

"Not as bad as me finding out Bill's going to marry the trollop!" said Ginny, imitating a gag. "I'm hoping she turns her nose up and buggers off somewhere and this is just a phase Bill is going through."

"How did they get together?" asked Hermione.

"They claim they caught each other's eye at the Triwizard Tournament or some such drivel. More recently they met through Gringotts or something. I haven't asked too much because I'm really not particularly interested in the answer."

"We don't have to be around much, I'm sure we can find other things to do," offered Hermione hopefully.

"Absolutely!" replied Ginny. "At least if I'm looking after you as my guest, I won't get roped into so much stuff that might involve being around blondie. Just over one week, one week, and Hogwarts will come to the rescue."

"Yes, thankfully," said Hermione. "So she's staying here that long?"

"As far as I know, and probably a bit longer after we've all gone back to Hogwarts."

Hermione had never shared it with anyone else and certainly not with her closest friends of Ron, Harry and Ginny, but at that time she would have gone so far as to say she hated Fleur. It wasn't only the manner in which Fleur had first arrived at Hogwarts, or the way she seemed to reel in every male who set eyes upon her, or the fact she was in competition against Harry for the Triwizard Tournament, it was more than that. Hermione and Fleur had history. Hermione was amazed that a particular incident hadn't been revealed and had been waiting all of her Fifth Year for it to finally leak out. It hadn't and for that she was thankful, and grateful that others weren't as knowledgeable about some things as her, but she would never forget what had happened; and yet here was the Frenchwoman acting as if nothing untoward had ever happened between them, or that she had conveniently forgotten. Hermione hadn't forgotten; she would never forget.

The first dinner they had, with most of the Weasleys present around the table as usual, had turned out to be uncomfortable. She remembered that event vividly too.

The seating had worked out so that Hermione sat next to Ginny, with Ron the other side, which solved Hermione's first concern about sitting next to Fleur, but that didn't avoid the other possibility, which occurred, when it turned out that Fleur would be opposite her. The brunette had averted her gaze from the Frenchwoman and managed to become interested in pointing out that Ginny had a loose thread on the sleeve of her shirt. For once Ron was being very helpful in talking to her too; however, even with all these subtle avoidance tactics Hermione could feel when Fleur was looking at her. She wasn't sure if it was something to do with the part-veela side of Fleur, or whether it was only the very human ability of knowing when someone was looking at you.

The third possibility that Hermione wanted to avoid was talking to Fleur and, so far, with both Ron and Ginny on either side she was able to use it to her advantage, until they heard Fleur speak:

"Hermione? I heard you were on holiday in France, yes? Did you enjoy it there?"

She could avoid it no longer; that is to say she could avoid it but only at the expense of drawing even more unwanted attention. She answered, after a not completely hidden nervous breath. "Yes. I went with my parents. It's not the first time I've been to France."

"Really? How many times have you been there?" asked Fleur, oblivious to any awkwardness she was causing to her fellow house guest.

"Um...I've been several times since I was young. My parents have always liked France, and so have I," said Hermione, trying to talk normally and casually, and not grit her teeth.

"Which part did you go to this summer?" Fleur continued the conversation, the rest of the Weasleys interested too.

"Several places in the north, some around the Somme area; my Dad was looking for ancestors' graves, from World War One."

"Molly, didn't you have a Great Uncle killed in that muggle war?" Arthur Weasley asked his wife, to which Hermione was so very grateful to have the focus taken away from herself.

"Yes, on my mother's side," said Mrs. Weasley. "He helped to invent some kind of muggle weapon...can't remember what it was now, but the silly man forgot to keep his head down in a trench one day and, well, he was killed. Magic might be incredibly useful in muggle wars, but it doesn't make a witch or wizard totally immune to a stray muggle bullet."

There had been a little silence, as everyone continued with dinner and Hermione thought she had got past the hurdle of Fleur for the evening, as she talked with Ginny about the advantage a person on a broomstick would have had on dropping bombs, compared with a muggle biplane in World War One. At that moment Hermione would have happily discussed collecting milk bottle tops, just as an excuse to avoid eye contact or conversation with the person seated opposite her. Yet again Hermione was disappointed, when the dessert things were being cleared away.

"So, Hermione?" the voice of Fleur sounded again. "If you've been to France a lot, do you speak French?"

"Yes, some," replied a rapidly tiring, Hermione.

"Oh, it's just if you wanted, I could teach you some while you're here, to use the next time you go to France?"

The sentence and offer angered Hermione, but again she had to try and hide it and fume invisibly which she wasn't completely successful on doing. It was the very sentence that explained a lot of why Hermione was so shaken by Fleur's presence; why she was feeling hatred and had never wanted to see Fleur again.

"I speak French very well, thank you," said a cool, calm Hermione. "Some might say, too well." The last part she said while managing to fix Fleur with a look that should have told the Frenchwoman exactly what she was feeling, but again Fleur seemed oblivious to any problem.

"Oh, well, you can always practice with me if you want to," said Fleur. "I'm told I'm a good teacher."

Ron gave a little laugh. "I don't think you'd have much luck teaching Hermione anything, she knows everything already." He laughed again, with Ginny and Bill joining in.

Hermione tried to smile, but she wasn't thinking straight and she hated how awkward she felt and how much everything felt out of her control, it actually made her feel faint. "I think I'm going to go upstairs for a little while," she said suddenly. "I'm feeling a bit...I don't know."

"Are you feeling ill, Hermione?" asked Ron, of all people.

"I don't know...a bit..." Hermione couldn't think of anything convincing to say.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had been dealing with the dishes in the kitchen, but had overheard the conversation and Mrs. Weasley came over to the brunette. "Are you feeling unwell, dear?"

"A little, maybe...I don't know."

"You are looking a bit pale," said Mrs. Weasley looking at her and feeling Hermione's forehead with the back of her hand. "You're feeling a bit feverish too."

"I think it's a headache coming on, that's all," said Hermione. "I'll just go and lie down for an hour or so, get an early night maybe, I'll be fine." She stood up, feeling again that eyes were staring at her from across the table: French eyes. What is that bloody woman? A basilisk, or something?! She thought, wanting to get away from the gaze she felt was burning into her.

"I'll go upstairs with you," said Ginny, standing up too. "Come on."

Once in Ginny's bedroom, Hermione did lie down on her bed and gave a little groan.

"Do you want me to get one of Mum's headache potions? Do you need anything at all?" asked Ginny, genuinely concerned.

"No...I don't know," said Hermione, knowing she had said that several times in recent minutes.

"Did something happen in France?"

"Why do you say that?" asked Hermione, sitting up again.

"Well, I sort of noticed you got a bit tetchy and defensive about it. I wondered if you'd had a bad memory from there, or something else happened there?"

"No, the holiday was fine. France has always been fine."

"Oh, so Fleur pissed you off when she offered to teach you French?" said Ginny, trying to work out why she detected some animosity and what it was about. "I think she meant well, but I imagine she'd be a patronizing cow as a teacher."

"Hmph!" replied Hermione as she laid back on the bed and put an arm over her face as if blocking out the light from her eyes and muttered to herself. "Me? I need to learn French from her? That's a good one! She thinks I don't know French...she thought I didn't know. I knew..."

"Knew what?" asked Ginny, having listened to her friends grumblings.

"Hmm?" Hermione hadn't realized she'd said so much of her mutterings loud enough to be heard. "Nothing...just thoughts...nonsense."

"I know the silly mare drives me nuts, sounds like she's done the same to you," said Ginny, not wanting to push her friend, but sensing that something wasn't quite right; something was feeling fragmented about the whole of dinner. Her voice spoke of hopefulness that Hermione would tell her eventually. "Anyway, if you ever need to talk, or have a rant, you'll have a willing listener."

"I'm all right, Ginny," replied Hermione, but not unkindly. "Thanks, though."

"So my brother hasn't asked you out yet, then?" asked Ginny, trying to change the subject. "Has he sent you an 'asking out' letter that I don't know about?"

"No," said Hermione, actually able to enjoy the subject for once, because it stopped the conversation on Fleur. "I doubt he ever will. I'm not going to drop anymore hints. He obviously doesn't get it and I'm invisible to him."

"I think you could do better," said Ginny. "I know he's my brother...but...well, maybe because he's my brother I know you can do better!"

"Can I? I don't exactly have blokes breaking down my door in droves," said Hermione.

"Don't be hard on yourself, you'll find someone, even if it's not my idiot, blind brother."

"Easy for you to say," said Hermione. "You have multiple options."

"Doesn't mean I want any of those options!? The one option I would really like, tends to wander off after mentally unstable rival quidditch players!"

"Harry?" inquired Hermione. "You still want him? After all this time?"

"I know, I'm ill, I need come sort of soul-cleansing potion, but I can't help it," admitted Ginny. "Maybe he doesn't like redheads? Maybe he doesn't want to go out with team mates or his best friend's sister. He always was a bit old fashioned on things like that."

"Harry likes you, I'm sure of it," said Hermione reassuringly.

"Well, I can't keep waiting around for something that might or might not happen," said Ginny.

"Ahh, Dean Thomas with a little Michael Corner diversion?!" Hermione laughed.

"Michael Corner was a mistake, I mean, he looked like a little kid brother walking next to me?! Dean on the other hand is cute and kind and I like him a lot," Ginny blushed slightly.

"At least you'll stand a chance of seeing if Harry's jealous," said Hermione, considering the situation. "If he is, then you'll know he likes you. Hmm, I don't even have the Michael Corner option to make Ron jealous."

"You'd go out with Michael just to make Ron jealous?"

"I'd go out with Dumbledore if I thought it would work!" said Hermione, making them both burst out laughing. "It doesn't work, though. Ron was jealous of Viktor Krum, but other than throwing a strop at the Yule Ball he never took it any further. His reaction to jealousy isn't pleasant and is never productive in getting him to act in the way you'd hope."

"Perhaps once we're back at Hogwarts and you're spending a lot of time with Ron again, he'll open his bloody eyes," said Ginny. "For now, we have a week of 'Phlegm'!"

Hermione had to laugh at that. "Yes, well, she does make me want to cough up something nasty!"

XXXXXXXXXX

As she lay in the bed at Shell Cottage and thought back, Hermione was amazed at how simple life had seemed back at the Burrow; it was simple compared to her life lately, and she almost wished that her worst experience had been her contact with Fleur. The memories that came to her then, were in the days that followed at the Burrow that summer.

The next couple of days with the Weasleys had passed without any significant incident, Hermione and Ginny kept themselves to themselves, and they even went shopping a couple of times in the nearby town. Fleur and Bill went into work for a day or two and had other things to do, but inevitably another awkward dinner came along, when Fleur voiced another passing question to the brunette as they were eating dessert.

"Hermione, Bill tells me your parents are dentists, is that something you've ever wanted to do?"

The question stumped Hermione for a moment; the person asking it, the strange interest and the question itself. "I...I've never really thought about it...but, I don't think I've ever wanted to be a dentist."

"Would that disappoint your parents?" asked Fleur.

"No. I don't think so," said Hermione, slightly defensive again.

"There's no rush to decide all that," Bill said, beginning to notice the strange friction between the women. "I never knew what I wanted to do for a career. I had all these options and the more choices I had the more confusing it became."

"It's always better to have all those choices, than none at all," said Fleur.

Yeah, there's always choices, thought Hermione. And Fleur has had many choices, but hasn't always taken the best one.

"Fred, George and me have made a bet on Ginny," said Bill, trying to move to a subject that didn't seem to make Hermione uncomfortable.

"You have?" asked an intrigued and slightly worried Ginny. "Dare I ask, what about?"

"We've put a bet on, that you'll play professional quidditch before your 19th birthday," said Bill.

"Shit! You haven't?!" answered a slightly disturbed Ginny. "What the hell made you do that?"

"We've all seen you play," said Bill. "And some of us have heard you'll be watched the next couple of years by a particular set of persons from some of the professional quidditch teams."

"Bloody hell!" said Ginny.

"Bill, don't put pressure on the girl," said Mrs. Weasley. "We all know how good she is, but to add that onto her?!"

"I haven't bet my life savings on her," said Bill. "If she doesn't, she doesn't...I just think she will."

"As do I," said Fleur.

What would Fleur know about quidditch!? Hermione had thought, only just stopping herself from blurting out her thoughts. She probably spends most of her time wearing out every mirror she passes, or talking nonsense with her bitchy Beauxbatons friends.

"Do you play quidditch, Hermione?" the Frenchwoman asked.

"No," said Hermione, flatly. "It's not really my thing."

"That's a shame," said Fleur.

"Why?" asked Hermione, with the slightest of annoyance apparent to everyone else in the room.

"There's such freedom to be had when flying. Often a person who is extremely gifted academically needs to find an outlet to release their...their suffocated energy," explained Fleur, only slightly mangling the pronounciations of 'suffocated' and 'energy'.

"I've never felt that need," said a defensive Hermione. "As I said, quidditch isn't my thing."

Ginny had been watching the exchanges and could see her friend was getting more and more agitated by talking with Fleur and came to the rescue. "Anyway, I want to look through a couple of those books you were going to give me this year, Hermione."

Glad to have a distraction and an open invite to escape the room and Fleur, Hermione soon caught on. "Yes, they're still in my bag," she said as she stood up and they began walking away, feeling those eyes burning into her back again and trying to ignore it. "They're nearly like new..."

Once in Ginny's bedroom again the redhead immediately questioned the situation. "What is going on with you and Phlegm?"

"What do you mean?" Hermione, almost snapped. "Nothing's going on!"

"Look, I hate her, you know I do, but you seem to be hating her even more than me," explained Ginny. "Bill kept giving you odd looks, as did my Dad. Has she said something to you? If she has, I'll have it out with her...gladly...she can't go around my house upsetting my friends!"

"No!" said Hermione. "She hasn't said anything to me."

"So why all the defensiveness?"

"I don't really want to talk about it now," said Hermione. "It's nothing really...just some things she's made me think about that have annoyed me."

"The dentist and quidditch thing?"

"Sort of. She's being very nosy and I've never liked that," Hermione said, telling a white lie and not wanting to reveal the real reason why her blood boiled in her veins over Fleur Delacour.

Harry had arrived unexpectedly the following day, having been travelling with Dumbledore. The story of his meeting with Horace Slughorn greatly interested all at the Burrow. Everyone always enjoyed having Harry at the Burrow, because it was so obvious how much he enjoyed being there.

Hermione spent a lot of Harry's first day with him and Ron, talking about Voldemort-related issues and other bits of news, official and unofficial. The brunette had wanted to laugh when she saw Ginny and Harry around each other, because despite all the redhead's talk of basically being cool about things, she was acting a little more dithery than usual when around Harry. What was encouraging for Hermione's hopes for that pair was that she had caught Harry looking at Ginny in an appreciative manner too. There's hope! she had thought, maybe not for me and Ron, but Ginny and Harry is possible...perhaps...maybe...

After a trip to Diagon Alley the next day they had all gone back to the Burrow, and Ron and Harry wanted to play some quidditch, asking Ginny and Bill to join them. The Weasleys had a special area where they could play quidditch away from muggle eyes. The Burrow was also a place that was surrounded by varied countryside, which held a wide variety of potion ingredients growing around the house and gardens. That day Hermione wanted to find some particular items for her ingredients stock, which she used in practice and mild experiments. As she heard the whoops and shouts from somewhere above and yonder, from the four up on their brooms, Hermione wandered to the edge of the Burrow's land, where a little stream separated the very end of the garden from a small wood. It was in the wood she wanted to find some particular ingredients, and she had several paper bags with her for her collecting.

She hopped over the stream and was searching the base of trees for a type of moss, and the fifth tree she came to, she found what she was looking for. Hermione crouched down and with her penknife cut free a small clump of the moss, and carefully slid it into one of her bags, before folding the top down, so none fell out.

"What are you doing out here?"

The voice had startled Hermione and nearly made her fall over backwards. She sprang to her feet and spun around to be faced by Fleur. "Um...collecting some ingredients, that's all." Go away and leave me alone! she thought, as she turned her back on the Frenchwoman and bent down to cut some more moss away.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes!" said Hermione. "I'm fine." I'd be even better if you pissed off! she had thought.

"Oh. Then please tell me what you're so angry about. Why are you angry with me?" asked Fleur. "And don't tell me you are not, because I know these things."

Hermione exhaled a breath, that nearly came out as a growl of frustration. "Angry with you? What could I possibly be angry with you about?!" she said, rhetorically, but with very little genuine humour.

"That's why I'm asking, because it seems obvious that you are angry with me," said Fleur. "I want to know why?"

"You don't know?" asked Hermione. "Of course you don't, you probably don't even remember!?"

"Remember what?"

"See? You walk over people, and conveniently forget that even the little things matter to some. Small kindnesses live long with people, as do hurts and insults," explained Hermione.

Fleur walked closer so she didn't have to raise her voice, more than was comfortable. "Hurts? Insults?"

"Yes, YOU!" said Hermione, not wanting to talk about it, but faced with it now she was unable to stop herself from blurting things out. "I speak French, very well. I heard you that day, at Hogwarts, when you stopped me to ask about Harry, I heard exactly what you said to your friends as I walked away, what they said back and how you went even further with it. Couldn't you see that I'd heard you when I turned back again? Couldn't you see that I'd understood every word you'd said?!"

"Oh!" Fleur replied as she remembered something and the memory came crashing back to her. "That was nonsense, only silly stupid girls talking."

"Yeah, well, maybe not all of us have thick skins, maybe some of us are sick of being made fun of," said Hermione, feeling the smallest of lumps in her throat and trying desperately to hold herself together. "I know what you think of me, I knew what you thought of me then! "

"It's not true," said Fleur. "It was schoolgirl talk, that's all. It wasn't that bad. I thought we got on quite well throughout that year, didn't we?"

"Wasn't that bad?" repeated Hermione. "You humiliated me, and what's even worse about it, is that you thought I didn't understand a word of it to humiliate me further! Well, I understood it all right! And it wasn't just the one time, I heard you a couple of other times too, when you thought I didn't know."

"Hermione, it...it was sort of expected of me...you know, to be cool...it's not necessarily what I actually..."

"To be cool you had to be insulting to another girl? Oh that's classy!?" Hermione nearly spat. "You never said sorry, not even when everyone left at the end of term. No, because you thought I didn't know, that I didn't understand it!?"

"I didn't mean any of it, I was fooling around and it was just something to say...the first thing I thought of...to..."

"Don't you try to justify it!" said Hermione, her eyes burning with unshed tears. "You said I was an ugly little virgin who was as dried up as the books I read. That I must be a cheat and a fake. You said someone would have to be blind and stupid to go out with me. You said..."

"Hermione..."

"You said I must have drugged Viktor Krumm, because no one would take me for all the gold in Gringotts," Hermione did have a stray tear working its way down her cheek now. The words were perhaps tame and rather silly, now she spoke them, but hearing them and remembering the accompanying laughter and Fleur's almost preening satisfaction in the adulation and laughter made everything worse. "You said one or two other disgusting things too at other times. Why, did you do that? Why did you have to be so nasty to my face and humiliate me in front of all your friends? They smirked and laughed at me wherever I went for the rest of the year. Do you have any idea what that was like, with everything else going on?"

Fleur looked genuinely shocked. "I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry. I had no idea...I'm sorry."

"No idea?! People like you, never...never realize the people they walk all over," sniffled Hermione, unable to stop another stray tear, and not caring at the same time. "People always think people like me have no feelings and that we get used to it: used to being the butt of people's jokes. I'm surprised you didn't add the French for 'mudblood' in with all the other insults...every damn Slytherin calls me a mudblood."

"I would never use that word, in any language!" said Fleur, affronted.

"You used nearly every other word to describe me!" said Hermione. "Why did you have to be like that? How could you forget? Was I just another stupid inferior girl to add to all the others you've insulted and...and...you don't have any explanation other than it was just 'something you did'?"

Fleur walked forward and taking an option she hardly had time to think over, she wrapped her arms around Hermione and embraced her. "Hey, shh. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."

Hermione pushed Fleur away with a shove, moving back from her. "Get off me! I don't want your hugs! I probably repulse you anyway, and that means your hug is just as insincere as the rest of you!"

"You want to know why I said those things?" said Fleur, in a very stern, almost angry voice, not seeming to like being shoved away. "Why I said them to the girls around me? "

"Because you were being a bitch?!" Hermione answered for her, before making to turn and walk away, not wanting to hear anymore nonsense.

Fleur grabbed Hermione's arm, in a firm grip, and stopped her from leaving. "I'll tell you why I said those things. Since I met you at that first evening at Hogwarts, my friends had commented that I was too interested in you and kept looking at you. Some of them have veela blood too and notice things like that more than others. I wanted to shut them up."

"So instead of telling them to shut up, you humiliated me instead?!" stated Hermione. "Why on earth does it matter if you were interested in who I was? Your school's students were interested in talking to a lot of the Hogwarts students, and made a lot of friends, as I remember."

"You don't understand," said Fleur. "I didn't want to just talk to you and make friends with you. I wanted to..." She couldn't say the words, and let Hermione's arm go.

"You wanted to, what? Smack me around, see how many French insults you could hurl at me before I caught on?!"

"No! I couldn't let them see that I wanted to...," Fleur stumbled on her words again, and as the saying went about actions speaking louder than words, she quickly put her hand to Hermione's cheek, leaned in and pressed her lips to the younger girl's.

Hermione jumped back, dropping her paper bags. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Showing you," said Fleur, nearly shaking with the implications of what she had just done. "Showing you what I wanted from you when I first saw you. What I wanted to hide from the other girls."

"This is just another trick, another thing to throw me off, to play with me," said Hermione. "You disgust me!"

Fleur had visibly looked angry now; fuming would have been an appropriate description. She walked towards Hermione, but the brunette backed away, so Fleur walked forward again, her eyes in a fierce stare.

"Stay away from me!" said Hermione, drawing her wand, feeling confused and battered.

Fleur walked another step closer, not seeming to be bothered by the wand pointed at her, and she could see that Hermione couldn't back further away as she met the trunk of an oak tree, making her stumble slightly.

"Leave me alone!" said Hermione, her hand shaking, not at all sure what was happening and whether things were getting dangerous or not. "Please, leave me alone!"

The anger immediately dropped from Fleur's face and she now looked confused herself and even fearful. She had backed away, holding up her hands, apologetically, her face pale. "I'm sorry," she said. "For everything; for then, and for now, I'm sorry, Hermione, please forgive me."

Hermione dared to walk a pace to her side, and then moved another few careful steps, never taking her eye, or her wand's aim, off Fleur, as she bent to pick up her paper bags of ingredients and then broke into a jog back towards the Burrow.

She didn't see Fleur again until the Battle at the Astonomy Tower and then things were so serious and upsetting with Dumbledore's death and Bill's wounding that they hardly had a moment to acknowledge the other in any way. Hermione had actually admired Fleur's courage in dealing with Bill's injury and in dealing with Mrs. Weasley. With the severity of the magical world's situation Hermione felt that her personal problem with Fleur was now redundant and irrelevant. The point was, Fleur knew why Hermione had felt the way she had, and in saying it to her face it had helped her to let it go, to an extent, and the thought of Fleur having had a crush on her was too ridiculous for her to give it credit any longer.

However, the two women met again at Fleur's wedding to Bill and once again confusion and implications reigned supreme.