Hello, guys. This is not the first thing I write about Fleurmione but it's the first thing I write in English so I hope you like it and I'm sorry for any mistakes you find in it. As I said...first time writing in English.

Anyway...enjoy!

Discleimer: None of the characters used in this story are my own. They belong to J.K. Rowling and W.B. I use them just for fun and I'm not getting any kind of payment for this.

It's over. The eternal war against Lord Voldemort is finally over after so many years, so many battles and the never ending pain that's always there when someone, a hero, dies.

That moment when light defeated darkness really happened thanks to "the Boy Who Lived". He made his own prophecy real and was strong enough to conquer Death itself. It wasn't easy but he wasn't alone either.

Even with the Dark Lord destroyed along with every sick part of his soul, the air is not cheerful. Death Eaters are still on the grounds of that majestic castle reduced to nothing more than ruins.

The faithful followers of Voldemort are disappearing in swirls of black smoke while a few of them are dying at the hands of those warriors brave enough to kill out of rage or sorrow.

The battle is still alive with all the emotions. There's some relief because the darkest wizard of all the time is gone. There's rage because he took so much of everyone in that battlefield. There's sorrow, emptiness and despair because even with the war over no one feels like a winner.

The sky is awake. The stars shine upon them in the dark mantle of the night. They are watching upon those human beings fighting untiringly to reach freedom and find some peace.

The full moon rise above all of them but its light it's not enough to enlighten the eyes of those who have seen Death face to face. It's not enough to erase the pain of the loss, to calm the agony on the heart still beating for two, the one who keeps alive and the one that stopped beating for the greater good.

Darkness runs freely in the veins of the father who lost his child at the cold hands of Bellatrix Lestrange. Darkness exists on the heart of the woman who has seen her husband die with a glimpse of green light and the words "I love you" trapped on his lips but reflected on his eyes.

And it hurts. It hurts too much.

It doesn't matter if the side of justice has won because the price to pay is always too high. There's not a real winner in terms of a war. It doesn't matter what you can get from it, the price is always the life.

The sky sees faint glimpses of the twilight and the far line of the horizon paints with the magic of red and orange tones of a new day trying to break the dark atmosphere but it's not the time, not yet.

Silent tears run down pale and dirty cheeks. Everyone is consumed with pain, sorrow and grief.

The last Death Eater is gone with the flash of the last green light of the night.

There stand Hogwarts' domains with crumbled walls, shattered windows, its towers collapsed and the ruins burning with the hope that no one can feel even if the magic world is free.

The grounds are covered with the crimson blood of the parents that protected their child, the blood of the brother who saved his twin, the Auror that died because it was the right thing to do even if she didn't say goodbye to her father who waits in his home for her little girl. The boy who pleaded at his parents to let him fight even if he was only fifteen and he died beside them with his eyes wide open because he wasn't afraid of Death. And there's the boy with the Dark Mark on his arm, killed by his own sister. He just wanted to be free as everyone else because he didn't pick that destiny. His dream was to be Minister.

Those are the corpses of friends and family.

The pale light of the moon is reflected on their skin making them look so peaceful even with the blood stains on their arms and faces. They look ethereal like a part of the darkest dream, a nightmare, but this time no one can wake up. It's not a dream. It is the real world, the cruel one, they fight to live on.

It doesn't matter if Lord Voldemort is gone because all of them are gone as well. It doesn't matter if the war is over because not even the major effort can bring them back.

It hurts to know they're not coming back. Their eyes will be closed but there's no way for them to awake from their eternal dream. Their sacrifice was enough to win the war but that though is not enough to comfort the broken hearts who loved them.

That's the reason Hermione uses to move herself even when her entire body is sore and tiredness falls upon her shoulders. Every step is almost hurtful but she doesn't care. She walks, slowly, to the Weasleys.

They're crying, sobbing, and mourning the death of the family, because Fred is not going to laugh, joke and send fireworks into the sky tomorrow. There's no tomorrow for him.

Hermione stands there however she cannot say a word. She looks around slowly, takes every image in and let out a shaky breath. Her skin breaks on goose bumps while the air leaves her completely.

What could she say? Everything is going to be alright?

Perhaps that's true but it doesn't change the fact of the Death. It doesn't take away the pain not make the loss bearable. Words are useless in situations like that.

So the brunette raises her wand and points to heaven with a shaky movement. A burst of white light gets out before exploding with brilliant sparks that dance in the air before getting together to form an image.

High on the black sky is the face of Fred Weasley.

All his features are in there with such delicacy that's just pure art in the form of magic. Fred is up there, watching everyone but at the same time staring at the nothing. His lips are curled up in a bright smile. His fiery red hair moves slightly with the non existent wind.

The image stays there for a whole minute. It draws the attention of everyone standing on the grounds, from the borders of the Black Lake to the stone stairs at the entrance of the castle. That sparkling image warms their hearts a little bit because for a second all of them remember the happiness of his life.

George stares at his brother with his eyes wide open. His body trembles. His bottom lip is quivering but there's not a single tear on his cheeks.

Fred's face melts in red sparks that form the letter W before white sparks took the space in the sky. They linger in there for a brief eternity. In just a minute the sky is full of new shining stars. Just for Fred.

All the survivors feel and share the pain of the loss.

George tries to stay strong but crystalline tears finally start rolling down her pale cheeks and the first sob escapes his parted lips. He stands up slowly and raises his own wand sending colorful fireworks in a silent goodbye to his brother. That doesn't mean George is going to forget him but he needs to learn how to live without that part of himself. He's saying goodbye to the painful memory of his Death but the ones full of happiness and hope are still on his heart. That's what George is going to use to keep going because now he has to live for himself and his twin. They're always together no matter what.

It's going to be a hard path to walk but all the Weasleys are going to fight and live for the one who fell.

"Thank you" whispers George with the faint glimpse of a smile on his lips.

Hermione nods but says nothing. She starts walking again until she finds another fallen hero. Her wand is raised again and the same ritual is doing. It hurts because the lion girl knows every face, knows each story. Every person is important and every death deserves to be acknowledged. They're the real heroes.

Hundreds of tiny lights join the one coming from her wand. All the ones that contemplate the beginning of a new day know how much they've paid to be alive. They take a place in that silent ritual where all the sounds are from the forest behind them and the broken sobs that no one can control.

Harry joins her and puts a comforting hand on her shoulder because not even Hermione knows the exact moment when she started crying.

Tears are running freely in her face, falling over the dry grass and being consumed into the nothing.

Hermione is doing something more than just reaching the fallen. She's paying homage to their lives, to their memories and everything they were and are. They'll become immortal even if they cannot see the break of a new day. They'll live forever in the pages of history and the soul of the Magic World itself.

At the same time the brunette is looking for someone. She hopes to find her alive, waiting for her, but with every minute and every step she takes, her heart aches a little bit more with despair and the feeling stays in the pit of her stomach. She wants to run, scream, cry endlessly, sob and fall to her knees but she's not giving up. Hermione wants to believe and so she does.

Something is wrong, she can feel it and time is running dangerously fast.

"Have you seen her?" Hermione asks to Harry.

There's no need to say names because Harry Potter knows. He's always been at Hermione's side watching her carefully and noticing the things no one can see but him.

They're something more than friends, brothers or lovers. Perhaps they're soul mates. They can understand each other without words. Just a shared look is enough to know the next movement in the middle of a battle. The silence is loud enough to share a feeling. A small gesture is always the right thing to do.

"No."

The word is barely a whisper. It almost disappears before it can reach its destiny.

"The Order is looking for her. We're going to find her, 'Mione."

Hermione nods once even with the dull ache on her chest. Still she keeps going with her ritual. One per one all the fallen heroes are up in the sky, their faces clear and in peace. The entire Magic World raises their wands to send white lights into the night.

Hermione's mind runs in circles trying to find her own light. The one that makes her eyes shine even when everything seems lost. Despair is making its way to her soul and steals her hope, her dreams in a slow way. The brunette can feel the cold of the early morning crawling deep in her body, chilling her bones.

When she's about to start walking again, Harry puts a hand on her shoulder to stop her movements.

There's a faint light getting closer and closer to Hermione.

It's a patronus and the brunette could recognize the regal unicorn wherever it appears.

"Fleur" murmurs the Gryffindor girl with a dread feeling running down her spine and fresh tears trying to escape from her eyelids. "Fleur" repeats Hermione.

The beautiful creature made of silver light and happiness lifts his head and those eyes shine like sapphires just for a brief second but it's enough for Hermione. Maybe it could be mistaken with a deep desire and a huge imagination however, when the brunette looks back at the eyes of the patronus, she is looking right at Fleur Delacour's eyes.

"Hermione"

The name comes from that ethereal figure of silver skin. The voice is clear but so soft and weak that is scary because that velvet voice is the one of Fleur.

The silence grows enough so everyone can hear the words spoken. Everyone knows the meaning of that moment. It's the final of yet another life.

Yes, it's true that Luna and Neville are looking for the Veela along the rest of the Order but no one really knows her last position. No one knows where she was fighting. Time keeps going on and on, second per second and even Fleur notices the fact, wherever she is. She sent her patronus with a last message not to ask for help but forgiveness. In the quiet morning, she's saying goodbye.

"I'm sorry."

Those words break every heart because what's happening is not her fault. It's not the fault of anyone in that desolated battle field. And still Fleur regrets the moment of her Death not because of her Death itself but because of the pain it's going to inflict on the younger witch. That kills Fleur even before her heart stops beating and her blood runs cold.

"I'm so sorry, mon amour."

The last word is barely a broken whisper fighting against the still growing silence.

"You have to be strong, Hermione. You have to keep going with your life because you deserve to make your dreams come true. You want to change this world and make it a better place even for the smallest of creatures. You can do it, Hermione. You are smart, dedicated, brave, noble and strong. You never gave up in the middle of the war even when your life was on the line. Don't do it now, not for me."

A deep space is left in there and Hermione is afraid to stop hearing that voice because if Fleur keeps talking there's hope to find her and to save her.

The patronus gets closer and nuzzles Hermione softly.

"I know it hurts, but don't stay in grief forever. Remember the time when we were happy even if I can't be there anymore. You're going to find someone else. Someone that loves you completely and you'll have to believe that you're worth it. You deserve happiness and I'm sorry I couldn't be."

Hermione sobs and tries to touch the unicorn because she doesn't want to let her go. She doesn't want someone else. She wants the woman who took care of her when her body was ripped and her soul shattered. She loves the woman who eases her fears and stopped her nightmares just with a firm hold and soft sweet whispered words.

Fleur Delacour was capable enough to make her see her own beauty and she sent her doubts away. No one knows if they're mates or no but Fleur's love was always real and sincere and so was Hermione's.

That's the reason it hurts so much to say goodbye. They love each other with every fiber of their beings. Neither of them is ready to die, to contemplate the Death face to face again. They're not ready to follow different paths. They're just not ready to say goodbye because they want to share their entire lives.

Their hearts are bleeding, and their souls are pleading for another chance. They said everything was going to be fine after the war, but the very last spell used was enough to tear their happiness apart.

There's a small cough and it remembers that the final of Fleur Isabelle Delacour is near and even her patronus starts to melt into the darkness of the everlasting night.

"I failed you, Hermione. I told you I was going to stay with you for the rest of your life. I wish I could be stronger and never let you go, but I can't. My body gave up even if I'm still fighting."

Pure agony is heard in the French voice. Quiet sobs fill the night that gets glimpses of the red of the dawn. Fleur's breath is ragged and with every second is shallower.

Hermione is losing everything mere minutes after the end of the war. The light on her eyes seems to dim until is almost gone, but no one can ask something different when the final battle is taking everything from her. All that she can do is fall on her knees and sob while her soul bleeds tears of sorrow.

"Don't cry, my love. You must remember that I love you, all of you. I never wanted to hurt you, I promise. Sadly, there's nothing I can do now and for that I'm sorry."

"Where are you, Fleur?" screams Hermione to the empty air. "I can find you! I can save you! Please, Fleur...don't leave me."

Silence is the only answer to Hermione's request. For two entire minutes all that she can hear is the sound of her own breathing and the desperate beating of her heart pounding against her ears.

"I'm sorry, mon amour"

Hermione screams again. She shouts the blonde's name but the answer never comes. The hope goes away slowly and the majestic figure of a silver-white unicorn dissolves itself in the cold air of the morning.

Hermione screams to the nothing for endless minutes. She shows her pain and her anger.

The brunette looks in horror and tries to hold on the silver cloud still standing a few inches away from her. Her delicate fingers grasp nothing more than thin air before the patronus disappears forever.

Fleur's life is going between her fingers like water running free in the river and there's nothing she can do to stop it. She can be the "brightest witch of her age" or of all time but no one can really stop the Death.

The last remaining of the unicorn disappears agonizingly slow, mocking the brunette and laughing in her face. Then just a straw of silver magic stands in the middle of the empty space.

It's as thin and long as a single hair.

Hermione knows what it is; a memory.

It gets closer to her almost craving her touch. A gentle one is enough to unchain a storm of pain and pleasure. It's not a single memory but all the time they spent together.

The lion girl closes her eyes when hundreds, perhaps thousands, of images swirl on her mind and it's a torture but a forlorn smile takes place on her lips through her tears. She feels the love and the loss. She feels happiness and agony. She's hurt but at the same time a quiet calm warms her body from head to toe.

That's the real way Fleur is saying goodbye.

Hermione can see all the images that were on the blonde's mind when she conjured her patronus.

Their first kiss shared on the afternoon when Shell Cottage was empty and the brunette wanted to say "thank you" but words weren't enough.

The shared nights of French fairy tales that Hermione didn't understand but calm her anyway.

The night she woke up in the early morning to find Fleur sleeping in the same bed with strong yet gentle arms wrapped around her waist. That was the moment when Hermione understood the meaning of love.

The last scene shows something different. It's the same night she's living on and Fleur's patronus is being born into the darkness. The light shines far away and some voices are singing a soft melody.

Hermione has heard those voices before. They're from Mermaid people.

"She's on the black lake" whispers Hermione.

She knows that is too late to find her alive. She can feel the weight of another death over her shoulders but this time it compresses her heart, the paint steals her breath. It's too late to save Fleur but at least she has to find her. It doesn't matter how much time it takes.

Hermione is tired and sore, her body refuses to bring her back to her feet but the prefect is not going to give up now that she has a clue. She needs to see the porcelain face of her girlfriend and say goodbye in the right way. Probably that's going to reduce her heart into tiny pieces but it's already broken anyway.

She runs as fast as she can. Her hair falls upon her face and makes hard to see the ground in front of her but Hermione doesn't stop because she knows every inch of Hogwarts. She has the path to the black lake at the front of her mind and is capable of reading it as the Marauders' Map.

The Sun rises upon the distant mountains and far upon the line of the forbidden forest. Hogwarts shines upon a new light of golden brightness. The warmness of the day doesn't reach Hermione's heart because she's staring at the flat face of the water. There's no one on the shore, there's no one floating.

Hermione closes her eyes again and lets her body feel what her eyes cannot see. She feels deep in her soul where Fleur is under the mirror of water at her feet. She walks without fear and there's no space to hesitation in that moment when she's going to be reunited with her mate one last time.

Her cheeks are wet from the continued tears falling from her honey eyes but there's a smile on her lips. Not from happiness but acceptation. It hurts to know that Fleur is no longer alive, no longer with her but she'll live forever among the other fallen heroes. Her name will be written on the coming books about the war but the most important thing is the effect the blonde Veela had upon the life of those who knew her.

Fleur Delacour changed the life of Hermione Granger because she healed her scars, those of her skin and the ones in her broken spirit. Fleur showed her how to believe in herself and keep going even with her fears gnawing on her bones. Fleur showed her how to live every second of every day and how to be free even with the world war destroying every part of their life.

Fleur would never die because now she lives on Hermione's heart, mind and soul.

That's the same way Fred lives in the hearts of the Weasleys. The same way Remus and Tonks would live into their son even if the young boy can't remember them but he is the proof of their existence.

Sometimes life reduces to death but the one who really lived could never die. The one who died in the darkness of oblivion, probably never learned the beauty of his or her life until it was too late.

Hermione walks into the freezing water until she arrives to her destiny. Her cold hands take the lifeless form of her beautiful angel of golden hair. Hermione bring Fleur closer to her body and lets out a shaky breath because even if she tries to be strong it hurts to know the truth.

Fleur is dead.

Hermione cries silently while she strokes Fleur's face with so much love and caution. She's afraid of waking her up from her deep sleep even if she knows that's not possible. Hermione wants to feel the non existent warm from that body lying on her arms. She wants to believe that everything is another nightmare but life slaps her hard in the face with the cruel truth.

The brunette takes one of the blonde's hands and brings it to her lips slowly kissing every finger.

In the end Hermione sobs on Fleur's chest. She tries to hear the beat of Fleur's heart to no avail but she refuses to believe the truth. It hurts too much and too deep that not even the loudest scream of sorrow piercing the air is enough to demonstrate it.

Harry Potter raises her wand and points to heaven. The white light illuminates the darkness of Hermione's heart when the voice of Fleur sounds again with the chirp of birds and her warmness strokes her skin with the light of the Sun. Fleur lives in the deep of the lake and her soul dances freely with the autumn's breeze.

Hermione presses her lips against the blonde's in a last kiss that'll remain to the last of the days.

"I love you, Fleur"

That's a true feeling that runs in Hermione's blood. Her words are honest and loyal. Her heart will beat for two as well and even if the pain goes away one day, Fleur's memory will live forever with her because their shared moments together are a golden treasure to Hermione.

Hermione is not going to give up and she's never going to let Fleur's memories go.

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