Legal Disclaimer: I own my stuff, but not the original source material. That belongs to whoever. Also, the opinions and interpretations I use here may not reflect the same in said whoever that owns the source material. Look, I'm just a poor college librarian. Suing me isn't going to get you anything but tears.

Warning: This work may be offensive to some readers. Feel free to back out if need be.

Author's Note: Fleur speaks French a few times in this and while most of it can be understood through context (and general knowledge words), fifille means "little girl" and lapinou means "bunny". If the possessive before it starts with an L, it's "the", and if it starts with an M, it's "my".

Dedication: to Gab (HecateA) for help with Fleur's dialogue, and to Aya (Aya Diefair) for listening to me babble about blocking.

Submitting Info:
Stacked with: Hogwarts (Term 11); MC4A
Individual Challenges: Hola, Bonjour, Jambo; Rainbow Focus; Misunderstood; More than England; Fore-Touch; Black Ribbon; Black Ribbon Redux; Small Fry; Clowder; Gryffindor MC (x2); Beauxbatons MC; Sett to Destroy; Seeds; Shipmas; Golden Times; Interesting Times; Old Shoes; Location, Location, Location; Themes & Things A [Love]; Themes & Things B [Protection]; Advice from the Mug; Ethnic & Present; Tiny Terror; True Colours; Rian-Russo Inversion; Flags & Ribbons; Short Jog (Y); Click Bait It; Yellow Ribbon; Yellow Ribbon Redux; Two Cakes!
House: Hufflepuff
Assignment No.: Term 11 – Assignment 09
Subject (Task No.): Beauty Therapy [Task#12: Write about comforting someone.]
Other Hogwarts Challenges: Insane Prompt Challenge [270] ("Don't blame yourself - this had nothing to do with you."); 365 [118] (Frightened); Mythology Club (Someone struggling to stay patient); Supermarket Sweep [Game Station] (Set at Hogwarts); Gwen's Candy Shop [Bowl 3] (Black); What's Cooking [Baguette] (Bill/Fleur)
Space Address (Prompt): Su Bingo [2B] (Lake)
Representation(s): Bill Weasley/Fleur Delacour; Creature Adoption
Bonus Challenges: Queen Bee; Under the Bridge; Where Angels Fear; Second Verse (Ladylike; Not a Lamp; Persistence Still; White Dress; Found Family; Nontraditional; Middle Name; Unwanted Advice; Lovely Coconuts; Lyre Liar; Most Human Bean; Muck & Slime; Rock of Ages; Casper's House; Hot Apple; Dog Star); Chorus (Odd Feathers; Pear-Shaped; Wabi Sabi; Peddling Pots; Mouth of Babes; Tomorrow's Shade; A Long Day; Larger than Life; Unicorn; Creature Feature; Wind Beneath; Abandoned Ship; Head of Perseus; Surprise!; Turtle-Duck; Sitting Hummingbird; Some Beach)
Tertiary Bonus Challenges: T3 (Terrarium); FR (Satisfaction; Gestation); O3 (Orator; Oust); SHoE (Onus)
Word Count: 2229

(^^)
Sunrise on a Beach
(^^)

The girl was found almost immediately after the battle was over. No one knew how she had gotten there. She was too young to be a Hogwarts student that failed to get evaluated with the younger students who weren't Slytherins. Her brown skin had a paleness to it that couldn't be healthy, especially in someone as waifish as the girl was.

Poppy shook her head when all her scans came up empty of any injuries, of anything that would have caused the girl to be passed out by the Forbidden Forest. The harried medi-witch hurried away to treat her other patients. Just because the fighting had stopped didn't mean that the battle was completely over. There were still lives to be saved and as the only person with knowledge of healing magic beyond basic first aid, it was up to her to minimize the lives lost now.

That left Minerva with a small child who wasn't talking, even if she was now awake and watching the deputy headmistress with wide eyes that were somewhere between bronze and gold. Since the girl wasn't hurt or sick, leaving her in the hospital wing wasn't an option, not with the overwhelming amount of injuries from the battle.

Her mind immediately thought of Molly Weasley who was well-known for having so many children. So she told the girl to follow her and headed towards where the uninjured (or at least not actively dying) survivors had been gathering. With her nurturing nature, Molly would no doubt be there comforting everyone while taking charge of getting recovery efforts started. That was just the type of witch Molly was.

Yet there was no sign of Molly when Minerva arrived at the Great Hall. Someone had laid out the bodies of the fallen members of the light in rows where the House tables usually were. Survivors moved through the rows of bodies in a slow silence that only broke when someone recognized their loved one. Spotting a young man with a clipboard, Minerva headed towards them.

"Do you know where Molly Weasley is?" she asked. The young man started looking through his list while Minerva watched him. He could only be a student, a seventh-year at most. She swallowed around the knot forming in her mouth. It wasn't right that any child should see the aftermath of such violence.

"She's not on my list," the kid replied finally, "but there is a Fred Weasley. Are they related?"

"Oh," Minerva answered as a numbness spread through her, "that's her son."

No wonder the woman wasn't there. The battle had been horrible enough, even without losing one's own child during it. Knowing that one of her Gryffindors had been killed so young hadn't gotten any easier in the last seventeen years. She took a deep breath to center herself and push through the pain that threatened to shatter the numbness inside her.

"Who's organizing things, since it's not Molly?"

"Uh, she's out by the lake, Professor," the kid replied nervously. "I'm not really supposed to tell anyone that, though."

"Why not?" she asked sharply. The kid rubbed the back of his neck which was turning red with embarrassment and stayed silent. Minerva straightened her shoulders, putting on the same stern expression that had made so many misbehaving students understand the errors of their ways in the past. "I expect an answer timely, young man."

The girl whimpered from beside Minerva, drawing both their attention to her. Under the weight of both their gazes, she hunched into herself. At some point, she had wrapped her arms around herself. Now her fingers were digging to the bare skin of her biceps, turning both her knuckles and the skin beneath her fingertips pale. Minerva frowned at the display of fear. Unfortunately the girl responded by tucking her chin into her chest and showing of the unblemished skin of her neck.

"Uh, it's where the Death Eaters are being gathered, ma'am," the kid stammered, drawing Minerva's attention back to him. "People were, uh, upset about bringing them in with the rest of us. Then this woman—I think she was the Beauxbatons champion—she says she'll take care of things. She marches out like she's Harry Potter about the face the dragon. Next I know, some redhead with a ponytail tells me not to tell anyone what's doing by the lake but to make a list of who is in here, if I recognize them or someone else does. It's to, uh, he said it was so that we could get ahold of their families. That makes sense, and I want to help." He curled a bit into himself. "I couldn't really help much this year."

"Don't blame yourself," Minerva ordered. "This had nothing to do with you."

"If you say so, Professor," he replied. He didn't sound like he believed her at all. That was understandable. It would be hard on all of them to get past what they've endured under You-Know-Who's reign. But they had done it once, and she was confident that they could do it again.

Leaving the castle was surprisingly hard, despite how Minerva didn't slow as she crossed the threshold with the girl following like a kitten in her wake. She forced herself to not dwell on how less than an hour ago the front lawn had been a battleground. It would do no good to dwell on what could not be changed. They must carry on with their lives and put all this mess behind them.

Just as the boy inside had mentioned, Fleur and Bill Weasley were moving the bodies of the fallen Death Eaters to the rocky shore of the Black Lake. They were the only living people in sight. Not even Hagrid was out, having taken a nasty curse that had gotten through his natural resistance to magic. Without his giant blood, he would have died. If he hadn't put himself between it and a bunch of the students who insisted on staying behind to help, then who knows how many of them might have died instead?

"Professor McGonagall," Bill greeted once she had approached. He moved slightly, putting himself between his wife and herself. While she understood the defensiveness, given their thankless task, it annoyed her that he believed that she would be so petty as to deny their enemies a chance at a proper burial. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Yes," she answered, deliberately taking a step to the side. Bill blinked at the sight of the girl. The girl stared in return. In the early morning light, her eyes appeared more gold than bronze. In fact, they almost glowed against the dark tone of her skin. Shaking off the feeling of unease, Minerva put a firm hand between the girl's shoulders and pushed her forward. "This young lady was found by the forest earlier. I was hoping to place her in someone's care until her family had been located."

"And you thought of Mom," Bill said, "because she had all of us."

"Molly is at the Burrow," Fleur said as she placed a hand on Bill's arm. "The others are with her, for support. You heard about Fred, no?"

"Yes," Minerva said briskly. "Such a tragedy. I can't imagine the pain you and your family must feel."

"Oui," Fleur agreed, "tis very sad. I do not think Molly is up for guests." The French woman knelt down to eye level with the little girl. "But maybe la fifille would like to stay with us while we look for her mama and papa? Wouldn't that be nice, lapinou?"

A wind came off of the lake behind the couple. It tugged at the few strands of pale blond hair that had escaped the ballerina bun that Fleur was wearing and rustled the loose folds of Bill's long tunic. The little girl took a deep breath before letting out a whimper.

Then she launched herself at Fleur. The woman only hesitated a moment before returning the desperate hug. Fleur tucked the girl's nose into her neck and bussed a kiss over her temple. Bill knelt down beside their huddle, putting a hand on each of their backs. Taking a deep breath, Minerva forced herself to lower her wand. She couldn't even remember raising it.

"Save me," the little girl begged, clearly frightened. They were the first words she had spoken since she had been found. "Alpha will be so mad. Please save me."

"Who was your alpha, string bean?" Bill asked. There was something rough to his tone. The girl responded with that same chin-tucking motion that left her neck exposed to Bill. Even more strange than that, Bill leaned in close to touch his forehead to the bared skin. His cheek rubbed against hers as he straightened back up. "Why would they be mad?"

"I don't understand," Minerva interrupted. "What's this about an alpha?"

"The girl is a werewolf," Fleur answered. Her hold on the girl didn't loosen even a little bit. "Alpha is a name for the pack leader."

"But she's so young," Minerva denied instinctively. A quiet part of herself murmured a reminder that Remus Lupin couldn't have been that much older when he had been bitten. It still didn't change that it would a dark future ahead for the child if Fleur was right. "She can't be a werewolf."

"Yet here she is," Bill commented drily. He pressed his own kiss to the girl's forehead. "Tell us who your alpha was, kiddo? And why they would be mad at you?"

"I'm the one who swapped out the pack's Portkeys," she whispered. Minerva could barely hear her over the sounds from the lake. "I didn't get them all, but I got a lot of them. Alpha is gonna be so mad. Please save me."

"Ça va aller, ma lapinou," Fleur soothed, rocking the girl who was now shivering against her. "You did a good thing. No one is going to 'urt. We won't let them. Right, 'usband?"

"Right," Bill agreed. His tone gave no room for argument. "You're our cub now, and we'll make sure that you're safe. Who was your alpha?"

"Fenrir," the girl whispered like just saying the name would draw the monster's attention. "Alpha's name is Fenrir."

Minerva could not imagine living with such a beast. She reached out for the girl, unable to stop herself. Bill twisted over Fleur and the girl. His snarl easily drowned out the lake with its waves and far-off cries of fowl. Startled, Minerva found herself pointing her wand at him.

"What is going on?" Minerva demanded. Her arm shook, both from the adrenaline of the moment and from the sleepless night catching up with her. She was in her eighties, after all, and while that was only middle-aged for witches and wizards, she was still no longer a seventh year. Bill settled into a low rumbling growl. "Stop this at once, young man!"

"Yelling will not 'elp," Fleur scolded. She wiggled out from under her husband. Despite how Bill kept growling, he allowed it. He did, however, wrap himself even more around the girl as if he could physically protect her from any potential harm the world had to offer. "His instincts are up, et you are only making it worse. Did you want anything else, Professor?"

"No," Minerva said, "but surely you need more information on the child? What would her parents think of you just taking her?"

"I think you are too 'uman to understand," Fleur replied as she transfigured a pebble into a long ribbon the color of well-aged cheddar. The rich orange glowed against the grayness of the beach. The strangeness of the happy color amidst all the destruction stuck Minerva as inherently wrong. Fleur ran a pale hand through Bill's red hair soothingly. "We are her parents now."

"You can't just take a child from her family," Minerva protested as Fleur tied one end of the ribbon around Bill's wrist. "There is a proper way of transferring custody! We must at least try to find out her parents' wishes in the matter."

"Tis a strange sentiment coming from you," Fleur said. She tilted her head to one side like a bird. Minerva felt her brows furrow in confusion. Fleur tilted her head the other way in the same bird-like motion. "Hagrid makes a wonderful drinking companion, Professor. He is a very talkative drunk, too. He told me about how he brought 'Arry to his aunt's and how you were there. Is this claiming wrong because ma fifille was not left on a doorstep like a bottle of milk or because we will not punish her for betraying a monster?"

"You are not being fair—"

"Of course not," Fleur interrupted with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I 'ave no interest in being fair. I am tired and suddenly a parent. For mon enfant, I will do what I must, regardless of fairness. Now, my mate and child need to rest. Can you be trusted to take over here, Professor?"

"What kind of question is that?" Minerva asked, offended all over again. "Of course I can be trusted!"

"Bien," Fleur answered indifferent to the scandalized tone that Minerva used. She waved her wand over the ribbon, making it glow blue briefly. "Adieu, Professor."

And with those words, the small family was gone.