Chapter 1.

It had been a week since Harry, Ron, Hermione and a mortally wounded Dobby crashed onto the beach outside Shell cottage. Since then Fleur had devoted herself to healing Hermione, as much as she would allow, and generally looking after everyone. Harry was grieving and Ron followed him around trying to console his friend and lift his spirits, while Hermione remained in her bedroom the majority of the time.

It was approaching 4am and Fleur was sitting by the fire in the living room sipping the last of her cold camomile tea. It had been months since Fleur had slept more than a few hours at one time, the still nights had long since lost their comfort and now just brought an increased chill despite of the roaring fire. There were many things buzzing through her tired mind, the war had already been long, and there was still so far to go. How many casualties would mount up before one side eventually prevailed and what would that victory bring with it? So many uncertainties coupled with the harsh realities were proving a heavy burden.

She and Bill had recently split and she felt a great shame from her short, failed marriage. She was once again alone in an unfriendly country and if it were not for her promise of help to the Order, Fleur would have returned to France in a heartbeat. Her parents had never liked Bill and had beseeched her to return as soon as it became apparent Bill's attitude towards her was changing, before they were married, but she was committed and loved him deeply. Eventually she couldn't ignore his indiscretions and even she had to accept that her marriage was over, she and Bill were not meant to be and so they ended. He left her to stay in Shell cottage as long as she needed having secured a flat in Diagon alley some time ago, not long after they married.

This was only the day before the, most recent, unexpected arrival and Fleur had blushed fiercely during her hasty explanation to Ron, when he had enquired about his brother's absence. Now a week later she was sure the others had been informed but as yet no one had asked her about it each having a more important focus at the moment. This was something that both relieved her and hurt her deeply. Of course she understood that everyone was going through difficult times but that was why she was making an extra effort to reach out and support people, she just wished someone might do the same for her.

She sighed and gathered her blanket around her before rising and shuffling through to the kitchen to wash up her cup. She then returned to the living room and extinguished the fire and lights before turning with another small sigh and moving to the stairs. This had become her pattern since she had guests, she would say goodnight and retire around 11pm and wait for sleep. If it came it was fitful and frightening, her subconscious facing what she couldn't in waking life. This inevitably led her to wake in the early hours gasping and sweating trying to shake off the nightmares she couldn't quite remember but whose impression hung in the air around her. Then she would wrap her blanket around herself and pad quietly down the stairs, light the fire and sit for a few hours staring into it and trying to absorb its warmth. A couple of hours before dawn she would return to her bedroom to close her eyes and wait for the morning. Then once the sun has warmed the day a little she would wash, dress and be in the kitchen with breakfast as the other occupants arose.

She had considered dreamless sleep but had decided against it as she felt she needed to naturally work through the pain. The other factor, she was not admitting to herself, was if she started, she wasn't completely sure she would be able to stop. So she whiled away her nights trying, and failing, to not think about the emptiness that had consumed her life.

She wanted to get closer to all her guests but in particular Hermione, she recognised the shadows beneath her eyes and forced smiles, the constant insistence that she was fine. It was all an act to pretend to everyone, and probably herself, that she was okay. Fleur had tried to be there for the girl but from the moment she regained consciousness after they arrived, Hermione had pushed her away. She refused all offers of help and support, preferring to struggle on alone and hide her pain, not that it was difficult to deceive Harry and Ron.

As Fleur reached the upstairs landing she paused outside Hermione's door and concentrated her hearing towards it. Absolutely nothing, not a whisper of breath from inside the room passed through the door to the corridor. Fleur had been certain Hermione had placed a silencing charm on her room since the first night they stayed, especially as she could hear both Ron and Harry's snoring clearly through the silent house, even from the lounge. Still when she passed her room during the night, she couldn't help but pause and stretch her hearing, reaching out to the girl silently. Every time she was met with nothing and her head would lower a little further before she turned to the right and entered her room.

This time however as she turned away, she was shocked when the door behind her was flung open. She spun back around and found herself, dazed and slightly blinded, in the face of a dishevelled and furious looking Hermione. Hermione reached instinctively for her wand but stilled her hand when she recognised Fleur standing across the hall, slightly cowering away from her. They paused just standing across from one another, breathing heavily, both stunned to suddenly be in the others presence and neither entirely sure what to say.