Right, so, to the reviews, (sorry if this ends up getting long) I wasn't trying to be rude in my response, and I apologize if it came off that way, but I type the way I talk, which sometimes gets lost in translation because there isn't a voice to the words then. However, I can only explain why things have gone the way they have, I agree, the criticisms are valid, and I'm not trying to invalidate them in any way. I realize this is a very bad "uneducated" look into the BDSM subculture, but that is because this is NOT a BDSM relationship, I never claimed it to be either, merely stated I would take certain elements from it because, let's face it, domination and submission can be a part of that type of relationship, and that is a key factor here so there would be overlap, but it is not meant to be a portrayal of a consensual BDSM relationship.

Also, I'm not asking anyone to feel sorry for Hermione, in fact, don't. But that is the reasoning for her behaviors or, how she has justified it to herself. This is meant to be a dive into an unhealthy abusive relationship because to me, it's really hard to have it be a healthy relationship when one has power over the other in such an obvious manner, being the premise that Fleur has to obey any and all orders given by Hermione. From the start they've been on a very uneven footing, and power imbalances to that level can manifest themselves into abusive relationships very easily.

Speaking of abusive relationships, the back and forth portrayal of 'nice' and 'abusive' Hermione is, albeit a very sped up, depiction of the cycle of abuse, three phases (for those who may not know) are the honeymoon phase, where everything seems perfect, then there is a combustion where the abuse takes place followed by an apologetic stage where the abuser apologizes, promises they'll never do it again. Again, I've done my best to depict it accurately, but sped up. Justifications of the abuse are varied, and normally will fall apart under scrutiny of any sort.

So, if this bothers you, please by all means, stop reading, but this has also been a sort of therapy for me. I started this off as just an idea I'd borrowed and wanted to expand upon, but as writers, we draw from our own experiences. And, aside from the magic and such, this was very similar to a relationship I was in. I'm not asking for pity or anything of that matter, just simply an understanding in the logic used. I was cut off from everyone, including family, with work being my only outside contact aside from those they chose, she lived with family and when she went to work, if I was not at work, I was to stay in her room, locked away. Expected to follow whatever she'd tell me to do, including being raped. I lost myself and felt I had no escape (much as I've done here with Fleur, being held by "love", feeling as though there was no alternative to the situation) I've made Fleur out to be as powerless as I'd felt. My abuser's reasoning? It wasn't abuse, she didn't see it as such, she'd never do anything and couldn't believe I'd even think it abuse, she'd been abused herself and knew what that felt like (physically, though, not emotionally) she'd stopped when I'd say no (forgetting that within a matter of seconds she'd resume), she didn't cut me off from anyone, insisting family was important and I'd need a system of support, however there was a rule about not being on the phone around each other and she wouldn't let me go home. She insisted she wasn't abusive, but would threaten to commit suicide or physically harm me if I tried to leave. I think the best line was "you wouldn't leave a disable person would you?" when a back injury flared up and she was suddenly paralyzed from the waist down. That is, by definition, emotional abuse.

And, about Hermione being the brightest witch, I always took that as intelligence in school, that she is book smart rather than street smart, and book smart doesn't always equate to realizing issues within oneself, with flaws in how they cope with stress, or handle problems. Rather, some of the smartest people I know can't handle emotional problems or realize when their actions are unhealthy and refuse to seek help because it's not a problem to them.

Anyways, if you're still with me, thanks for reading, I didn't intend it to be so long. I'll hopefully finish this soon.

Ron had practically disappeared from their lives, keeping distance from his once fiancee, he had tried to maintain contact with Fleur, but that had proven difficult. He and Bill had spoken to her at work, and while she wanted to leave, the blonde had been unable to separate herself from Hermione.

She'd pushed her into therapy, and many nights the brunette had come home, reduced to tears, and fallen into the arms of the French witch. She had only slightly improved in her treatment of Fleur, instead becoming more dependent upon her, leaving the woman feeling trapped in her position, she couldn't leave her love without any sort of support. Ron was unwilling to help and Harry didn't know the extent of the pain inflicted upon them all. Hermione refused to open up to anyone in her life, preferring to deal with the pain on her own and in therapy.

Months passed, and the brunette slowly began to heal, returning once more to resemble her pre-war self, smiles appeared across her face more often and her control of Fleur began to ease finally, but things were still far from perfect. Though Fleur felt far less suffocated than she did before, their relationship was to remain an uneven power balance.

Fleur had returned to work, continuing to focus on solving the puzzle she had been handed. Feeling at a loss, she stood solemnly in front of the large door. She slowly reached out, placing a long, thin hand against the cool wood, feeling the porous substance that refused to give way.

She refused to give up on the mystery, but she was, by this point, at a loss as to what she could try. Everyone else had given up long before her, and so she was alone in the large chamber. The runes along the doorway began to glow, a faint yellow light filling the room, captivating Fleur as she stood there, speechless.

The door before her melted away, revealing an ornate cavern, beautifully carved statues adorned the pathway leading to a large fountain ahead. A silvery, shining liquid contained within the two level fountain. Fleur was drawn towards it, unsure of why the door opened, but even more intrigued than before.

They had thought gold or treasure would be contained within, but there was none, just this simple fountain, and she wondered why it had been sealed up for so long.

A voice filled her head, it was neither male nor female, it just existed, calm and serene, she no longer felt alone, bringing the first bit of peace she'd had in a long time with its presence.

This water will free you from your curse should you accept it. Love cannot be controlled, cannot be demanded, only willingly given. The Veela's greatest gift is also it's greatest curse. Drink and be free, child.

Fleur gasped as she realized this fountain was the one hidden away by the elders, the one that had faded into legend. Stories had told of its existence and how those who had chosen to drink from it were exiled by her people out of fear they would disappear from existence as more and more chose to drink from it. Created to save those who were rejected by their mate from certain death, the water within had become something of a threat to her kind's way of life. But she had always believed it to be just a story, there had been no proof of it's existence.

She could once again be free to live her life, and as that realization crossed her mind, tears began to form in her eyes. Doubt began to plague her mind, it was unheard of for a Veela to refuse their love, to reject their gift (curse). She was scared to leave, to find out what would happen, for Hermione was just as dependent upon her as she was upon Hermione. Could things really go back to how they were before?

Fleur stood there, paralyzed in indecision, until finally, she walked towards the fountain, barely faster than a crawl. She kneeled before it, her hands resting upon the cold marble. One last chance to turn around.

She stopped, waiting, before she reached forward, dipping one hand into the water. It felt like ice, burning her skin, she hissed in pain, pulling her hand back out, gripping her wrist as teardrops pricked her eyes, this time for a new reason.

This time, she didn't hesitate, lowering her face to the liquid, it touching her lips, she began to drink. Tears sprang forward, she felt her soul being ripped to shreds, a scream threatening to burst forth. Pain searing her body, she shook, wishing it all would end. But there would be no reprieve. She collapsed as everything went dark.

She awoke in an unfamiliar place, to her side sat Bill, hunched over her body, head in his hands, murmured words escaping his lips.

"What happened?"

"I was hoping you could tell me," he reached out, brushing back a strand of her blonde hair, "I found you in that room, you were already unconcious. I don't even know how you got that damn door open."

"I don't know how, either. I just touched it and it opened." She chose not to tell him the rest, not wanting to worry him more (or rather to answer questions).

With no issues being found, she was soon released from St. Mungo's and sent home. She didn't plan to stay home for long, feeling lighter than she'd felt in such a long time, she packed her stuff and without a word, left, determined to live her life now that she could.

She'd always wanted to backpack across Europe, something she'd been unable to do previously. And that was what she was going to do now. She'd lost too much time, been held back for far too long. That was how she found herself wandering across the Swiss Alps, her only possession a backpack that she'd magically enlarged to hold everything she had.

She'd made her way to the top of the tallest mountain she saw, its snow covered peak blending in with the clouds. There were no signs of life up here, even the trees had stopped growing long ago. She sat down on a rock, the cold snow soaking into her pants. Fleur dug into her backpack, removing the collar she'd once been commanded to wear, a sign of ownership, of a loss of free will.

She looked at it, remembering the pain it had come to symbolize, refusing to shed another tear over that situation, she threw it away, as far down the mountain as she could. She'd leave that dark time in her life here, where it couldn't harm her anymore. Without even waiting for it to hit the ground, she apparated away.

Italy would be her next destination.

That's all folks. :) Thanks for sticking with me on this long ride. Btw, the inscription: Even death is not to be feared by one who has lived wisely.

Oh, and the title: personally, I think it's stupid to rely on someone to "fix" you, you've got to do it yourself, we're all broken in one way or another and hoping someone can do it for you may cause more problems than it's worth.