AN:/ So, I don't usually update the same story twice in a row without doing my other two first—the people reading the other ones may kill me later—and while this was not a particularly fast update…well maybe for me it is, but I digress I wanted to update this one again because I just noticed that there are over 1000 of you following this story?! I don't even know how to begin processing that information, first of all thank you all so much for being interested, and patient. But moreover, I'm more than a little shell-shocked because, well, my writing really isn't that good.

Anyway, to address the point several-many-of-you pointed out, yes I did royally screw up the "Next time" part of the last chapter. (Although I am glad that means some of you actually read that part). Yeah…I don't have a good reason, mostly I was just really tired and tend to forget to re-read my AN type stuff. To clarify, yes Harry does know he's a horcrux in this story, and as I periodically go back and edit the chapters/replace them with actual less-crappy writing, then I will fix that. Well, that's MORE than enough, from me, on with the chapter!

Disclaimer: Evidently I do not own the Harry Potter, series, characters, locations, etc, etc. because otherwise we would still be waiting for book 2 to come out.

(With Harry and Fleur)

Fleur's body felt like her veins had been pumped with lead. Her arms felt stiff and her head heavy. She tried to recall what had happened last—where was she? She tried to sense what was around her using her lesser magical abilities, but her senses protested against the action, groaning out their disagreement.

The efforts made her head spin as she tried to open her eyes but found them too heavy to move. It took all her energy to remain in any state of consciousness, she wondered how long she had been out the last thing she remembered was…Internally frowning she tried to recollect where she last was.

She remembered coming too in the Burrow, Bill, the fight, pain—intense pain—transforming again, a warmth and then…nothing. Where on Earth was she? Struggling, Fleur again tried to haul her eyes open, but knew it was futile. She decided to try a different tactic—listening.

Straining her ears she was surprised to hear the buzzing she'd thought to be in her head turn into discernible words. Someone was beside her. Someone was talking to her prone form. 'Qui…?' (ENG: Who?) She wondered straining to better hear the voice.

"It's been 8 days Fleur…Where are you? God…I can't…just please be okay, Fleur. I want-no, I need you to be okay." It was a male voice, a familiar one. He was pleading with her, whoever he was. And seeing as he knew her name, evidently he knew who she was. He was English though, whoever he was.

Fleur's brain worked to process what he was saying when suddenly his first words hit her, 'Huit jour!? Mon Dieu! Est-ce que c'était vraiment si longue?!' Fleur wondered wildly, trying to comprehend what was happening. (ENG: Eight days!? My God! Was it really that long?!).

Before she could dwell anymore on the duration of her unconsciousness, Fleur became rapidly aware of just who the voice belonged to. 'Harry! Comment est-ce qu'il est ici!?' she wondered, now trying harder than ever to open her eyes, to see the young man who had left her and the others behind so many months before.

Finally, with monumental effort Fleur managed to slowly crack her eyes open, and slowly flutter the lids—the movement was agony in many ways. It hurt to open her eyes, and the light in the room around her hurt to.

Slowly she tried to focus as suddenly there was a flurry of movement around her; Harry was speaking fast now. Rapid questions and exclamations—Fleur groaned softly as her addled mind tried to keep up. It was too much, too fast. The noise, the movement, the light—it had Fleur's barely functioning senses going haywire.

Harry was oblivious to all this, so, blocking out his rapid questions as best she could Fleur tried to see if she could get her voice to work; to formulate some very simple English sentences to get him to stop talking. She needed a moment to collect herself—there were so many things she wanted and needed to say to Harry, but first she needed to be able to function at all. So far she could barely hold her eyes open let alone speak.

Finally Fleur managed to get her jaw to slowly move, her tongue, which felt like a thick shag carpet buried in the depths of the desert, to start flopping in the right manner to form a coherent word, "…'Arry…" she finally managed to half-cough out, abruptly stopping Harry's verbal onslaught.

In the silence, Fleur finally managed to focus her bleary eyes enough to take in the changes in Harry's appearance since she'd seen him in July. He looked older; much older. There was stubble growing on his face, his once bright green eyes seemed slightly hollowed into his head as a result of the ever present bags under his eyes, only they looked more prominent now than ever before. There wasn't anything grandiose that changed—no new scars on his face or some other altered feature, but there was a new age to his face, much more than she'd ever seen since his fourth year.

She'd seen Harry almost every summer since that year and in all the time he was away at Hogwarts he'd never seemed to physically age so much as he had since the past July. Clearly she had missed a lot.

He was staring at her, waiting for her to say something more, anything, but Fleur was struggling to keep her thoughts coherent. Her body, her mind was exhausted. Eight days or no, transforming twice in the span of 4 days was enough to wipe Fleur out for a long time. It was more than enough to knock most Veela out cold for pushing two weeks.

Harry spoke then and somehow through her dizzying head-spins Fleur managed to hear it, "Fleur, please, I need to know what happened to you?" he pleaded.

Groaning Fleur tried her best to get the word out, "T-transformation" she managed to cough out, her French accent heavy with the word. Harry looked confused for a second before his eyes widened.

"Transformation?" he questioned. "Did you, I mean— you transformed into your Veela state?" he continued, a note of incredulity and awe in his voice.

Fleur coughed slightly as she weakly whispered, "Oui." It was enough though because understanding flashed through Harry's emerald eyes as he remembered a conversation from years before he had had with Fleur after the second task.

Despite being decidedly dissatisfied with her results from the second task, Harry knew it was driving Fleur to work even harder before the third task. However, in a now rare moment of peace and quiet he found her lingering by the edge of the lake.

It was the early morning; few others were awake in the castle; fewer still out and about, but there she was, staring at the calm, reflective surface; the greyish hue of the morning light reflected back at her. Harry approached her quietly.

"Hello Fleur." He said by way of greeting, she didn't look at him as she replied.

"'Ello 'Arry."her voice was quiet, barely more than a whisper, but in the silence of the morning it was more than enough. They were both silent for a moment, allowing the calm of the morning to envelope them.

It was surprisingly Fleur to break it, "I 'ear zhem, you know." Harry blinked raising his eyebrows.

"Hear who?" he asked, not understanding.

Seeming almost amused by his answer, Fleur continued, "Zhe Merpeople," she paused for a moment before adding in a quieter voice, "…and zhe ozzer ztudentz."

Harry turned to stare at her for a moment, "You can hear Merpeople from up here?" he asked, stunned. He couldn't hear a thing.

Fleur let out a slightly bitter laugh, Harry didn't like it as much as her usual happy trill. "All Veela can 'ear Merpeople, 'Arry. Zhey can 'ear uz too." This didn't ease Harry's confusion much so he tried again.

"Why do Veela and Merpeople hear each other?" he asked.

She was quiet for a moment before speaking, "Zhe Veela and ze Merpeople 'ave long been enemeez, 'Arry. Zhey are naturally zo; we come from fire, but zhey are from water…A Veela iz alwayz at 'er weakezt in zhe water."

Harry's eyes widened at the information. That explained a lot—especially why after doing so well in the first task, not to mention being chosen as a school champion to begin with, Fleur had struggled so much in the second task. She was a Veela. That meant not only were they going into her natural enemies territory, but she was already weaker in the water.

Another bitter laugh escaped her lips as she said, "Zhey zink I was weak…zhe ozzer ztudentz but zhey don't know…Zhere iz nozzing to protect me from zhe Merpeople but my Veela magik…and zhat iz weaker ztill because I 'ave never tranzformered."

A bolt of empathy swept through Harry at that. He knew all too well how Fleur was feeling. Hurt. Betrayed. Her own peers would turn against her in harsh judgement based on something they didn't understand. They had no idea what it was like, the fear of going into those cold, unknown depths, and moreover knowing that someone you loved was down there…It was more than most students could handle…but they didn't care about that.

Finally he murmured, "I'm sorry." Fleur didn't react, still staring at the water.

After a moment she turned to look at him, her crystalline blue eyes full of more emotion than Harry usually saw in anyone and she whispered, "I know."

He had never learned much about what exactly the transformation entailed, but he knew that it was supposed to take a lot of energy—it was harsher than the first time someone gained their animagus form from what Fleur had later told him, and Sirius had told him once just how much changing into an animagus hurt. It all suddenly clicked in Harry's mind.

'She transformed for the first time! No wonder she was magically exhausted when she got here! Was it something about the transformation that allowed her to get here?' Harry wondered, trying his best to understand, shaking his head he scrounged up a bottle of water and gently held it out to her.

"Can you drink anything?" he asked gently, looking searchingly into her still slightly hazy blue eyes.

Fleur's mind protested at the thought of trying to drink, but she knew she had to so she tried her best to nod slightly; Harry caught it only because he was paying close attention. Carefully Harry lifted her aching body and propped her back against the bars and the end of cot before gently tipping a little water from his bottle into her slightly open mouth.

Despite her hesitancy to accept the drink to begin with, Fleur's parched throat felt infinitely better afterwards. Slowly allowing the cool fluid to sooth her throat as she tried to ignore her embarrassment at needing Harry's help drinking Fleur began to fully come to, noticing her surroundings for the first time.

She appeared to be lying on some form of a cot, inside what she could only guess was a tent…Fleur couldn't help but wonder whether Harry had been living in this tent for months now, and if so, where and when he'd had time to get the tent.

Finally Harry pulled the bottle away, recapping it, and waited. Fleur coughed a little but spoke "Zhank-you, 'Arry." She murmured, voice still weak, but not as hoarse as before. Harry took it as a good sign.

"Fleur," he began gently, but with a note of urgency in his voice. "Is there anything else hurting you other than exhaustion from your transformation? Are you injured at all?"

Pausing for just a second to think about the question Fleur shook her head, "I am going to be fine 'Arry. Eet will be 'ard for me…I—'Arry, I don't know eef I will be able to stand for a few dayz…" she finished quietly, ashamed.

Harry swiftly placed a hand below her chin before cautiously, gently pulling her head to face him. "Fleur, I don't care if you can't walk for a little while, I'll carry you if I have to." He smiled a little when she raised a brow.

"I will if that's what I need to do for you to believe me, but Fleur what I really need is to know what happened to you. And moreover, how did you find me?" he asked, a note of anxiousness in his voice.

Fleur was weary of entering into what would inevitably be a long conversation, especially since she wasn't exactly sure herself how she found Harry. "I don't know, 'Arry. I deedn't plan to find you exactly… I 'ad been looking for a long time, but I 'ad not found a trace of you. Zuddenly appearing 'ere with you…it was not zomething I learned 'ow to do."

Frowning, Harry spoke, "You weren't trying to come to me? Then how on Earth…" he trailed off, unsure whether he wanted to know the answer to his question.

"It wouldn't," he began. "Fleur, it wouldn't be your Veela magik that did it, would it?" he asked, as gently as possible.

Looking away from Harry, Fleur spoke quietly, "I don't know 'Arry…I—when I transformed, zhere iz not much memory zhere…eet iz all…blurred." She said softly. There was annoyance in her voice at her inability to remember, but Harry was quick to comfort her.

"It's okay Fleur. You can't help it if you can't remember." He said, although she knew that it was killing him to not know. She knew he feared for her—and much though it pained her to know it, she was also grateful to have him there, caring so much for her.

Fleur winced, recalling her parting encounter with Bill…so much for being engaged. Despite that though, she had to admit, where Bill had fast become a terrifying disaster; Harry was still Harry. The same young man she'd met three years before, aged some yes, but still the same kind, concerned soul.

Her eyelids were growing heavy from exhaustion—it still amazed her she could be so tired after having allegedly slept for the last 8 days she could still be tired beyond belief. In many ways her rest had been almost catatonic; the more time that passed, the less calm Harry remained.

Finally, Fleur couldn't keep her eyes open and slowly drifted into the blissful unknowing of sleep; letting the darkness rush in around her she breathed in the fresher air, body still firing on all cylinders in a feeble attempt to regain strength.

Harry gazed at the blonde before him in wonder as he watched her fall back into unconsciousness, he was concerned—especially with Fleur's lack of forthcoming information, but he also knew enough to know she was exhausted. A low 'pop' beside him alerted him to Dobby's appearance.

Speaking lowly, Dobby murmured, "Miss Fleursy be's being sleepy from hers changings. Most Veelas be sleeping many weeks after to get healthy again." Dobby chirped out, hoping to lift his visibly distraught master.

It wasn't entirely effective, but Harry did seem to perk up a little at the tidbit of information, and that was enough for Dobby. Harry smiled a little at his faithful companion, "Thanks for telling me Dobby…I just…I don't know what to do to help her." He murmured.

Hesitantly, Dobby reached a bony hand up and, being too short to reach Harry's shoulder, awkwardly patted Harry's lower back in a gesture of comfort. Harry smiled a little at the gesture, knowing Dobby meant well. He turned back to Fleur and allowed his mind to wander in the presence of two of his closest friends; knowing Dobby would alert him to any intrusions, and that he needed to stay vigilant himself for Fleur's protection.

Mad-Eye's sentiment of "Constant Vigilance" had never rung truer for Harry than in did now.

(With Hooch and Luna)

Rolanda was elated to be back in the safety of the confines of her home in Scotland. It was a new thing for her to have a student with her at her home, but it was not necessarily a bad thing. Luna was never a student to be close to any teachers, or students really for that matter. The professors, well those who did not view students as 'dunderheads', often worried in the young blonde's earliest years at Hogwarts at her apparent lack of connection with not only her housemates, but the rest of the school in general. It was rare for a student to go through their time at Hogwarts without finding a single friend, and thus automatically concerning to the professors.

Looking at the girl; no young woman, Roland mentally corrected, who stood before her now…the elder witch couldn't help but wonder where she found the strength. It was uncanny; most people would have given up after a while, a week, maybe a few days, but not Luna. Brilliant, quirky, friendless Luna had tirelessly endured what would bring many who had been loved and supported by friends to their knees. It was both baffling and very simple for Rolanda to figure out.

Luna Lovegood was not used to having others around to support her, and so, when she was put in situations where she had to support herself she was more adept than many of age witches and wizards. It was tearing Rolanda inside a little to realize that underneath everything, it was the loneliness that the strength came from. Luna had been so lonely in Hogwarts that she did not notice, or perhaps did not care, about the loneliness of being held alone in a cell.

Finally, turning to the girl in question, Rolanda spoke, "It's not much, but it's my home." She paused before continuing, "And I would like you to consider it yours as well for the time being." Luna's silvery eyes widened at the last statement, although it was missed by the hawk-eyed woman who had turned and started toward the front doors of the house.

Wide-eyed, Luna looked at the house before her; a smaller sized, one-story stone cottage-style house with a rather large, sweeping green yard and many vine-like plants growing around it met her gaze. While immensely different from the Lovegood home, there was still an appeal to the squat building, a homey feeling that Luna hadn't quite anticipated from the usually sharp professor.

When Luna eventually trundled inside the house after her flying professor, she was unsurprised to see that the inside was magically made larger than the outside, although not by as much as she had anticipated. She looked around, silver eyes gaining a glassy look despite the attention she was paying.

Immediately Luna noticed that the main pictures around and there weren't all that many, were not of family members, but rather of either Madame Hooch and a few other professors, name McGonagall, Pomfrey, Sprout and one or two with a few others, or they were of Madame Hooch and some of her past students.

'No family…how strange…' Luna mused. Even Ronald Weasley, who she knew resented his brothers, and Draco Malfoy who never seemed to have love for anything but his and his father's reputation, both kept family photos with them at Hogwarts.

The younger witch was pulled from her musing when Hooch murmured, "There are clothes upstairs for you, lass. You can go take a shower if you'd like and get changed, we'll eat after that." It was said softly, more as a suggestion than an order; it was a tone that Luna was unaccustomed to hearing from her usually commanding flying coach.

Nodding Luna started in a sort of daze-like state down the hall leaving Rolanda to wonder whether she should go help the young woman find the bathroom, but also knowing her house was too small for it to really be an issue. When she heard a door shut softly and what sounded like the beginnings of someone starting a shower, Rolanda allowed herself to relax slightly and go to the kitchen.

It would be hard getting someone like Luna to talk about the torment she had endured after all; the blonde was accustomed to looking after herself. Rolanda sighed, 'A lonely girl, who always outwardly appeared to be the epitome of contentment.' It was unnerving really.

Haphazardly going through the motions of preparing tea, Rolanda allowed her thoughts to wander to the blonde currently down the hall. Rolanda herself had more than one brush with torture and the Cruciatus Curse in particular during the first rise of Voldemort, but that only served to make it more obvious to her that Luna was in pain.

One did not simply endure weeks of torture and then walk away speaking of hefflumps. Rolanda knew that all too well; it had taken Minerva and Poppy more than a few months to get her on her feet again. It had taken a few weeks to get her past being almost catatonic. No, Rolanda did not believe for one moment that Luna Lovegood was alright.

The question now was, would Luna ever open up to her? And how much would Rolanda herself have to show to Luna before the blonde would?

(At Hogwarts)

Hermione sighed quietly as she wordlessly packedher bag. Pavarti and Lavender were asleep, and Hermione had cast silencio around herself and her part of their shared dorm so as to not disturb them as she packed. It was strange, she had never been close to either girl in their 7 years together, but she still felt a hollow sadness in her chest realizing that she did not know when she would see them again.

McGonagall had told her that she would be going to stay with Tonks for a short time before being sent on to stay with another Order member in a more remote area of the UK. It wasn't ideal by any means, but Hermione had finally conceded what they had been trying to tell her all along; Hogwarts was no longer safe for Muggleborns. It was barely safe for half-bloods.

The brunette thought of her parents, still safely in Australia…would she live to see them again? She'd read that the spell would break if she died, but she'd tinkered some and managed to set a timer, linking it magically so that when the war ended her mum and dad's memories would be restored. It had involved a complex looping of magic to align itself with the level of residual dark magic in wizarding England.

Shaking her head, Hermione looked at the now packed trunk and quietly shrunk it before placing it in her pocket. The hardest part was writing her formal resignation as a student. Now sitting on her pillow was a piece of parchment on which she had neatly scratched

I, Hermione Jean Granger, do hereby formally withdraw my enrollment in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In doing this I recognize that I am relinquishing the school and its staff of all responsibility for my wellbeing and education, as well as that any further seeking of education at a later date, such as the undertaking of the N.E.W.T examinations are my sole responsibility.

She had finished by signing her name, leaving a space for Snape to sign later, making the document official. Well…at least she wasn't being expelled. Somehow she gained no comfort from that knowledge, especially given Ron's explosion earlier that evening when she'd returned to the room of requirement to tell him what Professor McGonagall had wanted.

"WHAT?!" he'd roared. "You can't just suddenly leave! You're all the same aren't you! Everyone just leaves me here you coward! What kind of Gryffindor leaves in the midst of battle?" His face was rapidly turning puce as he raged.

"One that doesn't want to die." She said softly. Ron snorted. Honest to goodness snorted at her response.

"Die? Is that what you think? Hermione, you're acting like Harry. It isn't like that; this isn't going to be your death if you stay here!" she was vaguely horrified that Ron seemed almost amused at her concern for her own livelihood.

"Ronald!" she snapped. "This is life and death. I've already had more hell this month than you ever have in your life! And don't you dare tell me that I shouldn't worry for my safety! Look at what happened to Luna, Ron! Or have you forgotten about her already? Luna was a pureblood Ronald! A pureblood who was taken to God knows where and we don't even know if she's alive!" Hermione cried.

Face gaining a rapidly closed off look Ron snapped, "Don't make this about her! What happened to Looney is different—she was always off and you know it. Hell, she antagonized them so much some people are surprised she didn't disappear sooner."

The callousness of Ron's tone floored Hermione. "What is wrong with you?!" Hermione yelled, wanting to slap the boy silly. "Luna's going through hell now and you don't even care! You don't even seem to always care that Harry's gone!" she sniped, peevishly.

Ron said nothing; his silence was too much for Hermione. The silence seemed to take on a life of its own, filling the room with tension as Hermione realized the truth.

"Unbelievable." She said softly, causing the silent redhead to look at her in confusion.

"Wha—?"

"I can't believe Ronald Weasley! Even though he's running the risk of being killed trying to protect people, you're STILL jealous of Harry!" she sneered, disgusted.

"Well," she said haughtily. "I'm sorry you feel that way Ronald, but I'm leaving Hogwarts. I just came to say my goodbyes." And with that she turned and left.

It hurt like hell to know that Ron was still holding on to lingering jealousy for their best friend. The same best friend Hermione had been mourning the loss of for months. The brunette had, of course, had her suspicions at times because it sometimes seemed like while they were at Hogwarts Ron was almost glad that Harry was gone. It had unnerved her to the point that Hermione had started seeking Neville, and even Luna, for comfort instead of Ron when she missed Harry.

Shaking her head Hermione steadied herself and quietly crept out of the room, casting a Disillusionment Charm on herself before leaving Gryffindor's common room and making her way to the main doors; it was time to go meet Tonks in Hogsmead.

When Hermione silently crept across the lawn she couldn't help but shiver. She knew that she was technically invisible, but the disillusionment charm could be detected if one was to try hard enough. Though she didn't know that anyone would try to stop her leaving…almost all the muggleborns had left by now, if they had returned at all. Wrapping her arms around herself, Hermione walked to the main path to the gates. She had crossed the main lawns of Hogwarts and was fast approaching the gates, it was dark and the swaying trees gave her the creeps, but, wand firmly in hand, Hermione marched on.

Finally, arriving at the large stone posts that marked the entrance to Hogwarts, Hermione turned and looked back at the castle that had become her second home. She felt an intense sadness to know she may never see it again, or at least not for quite some time, but eventually she tore her eyes away, stepped through the gates and began the trek to Hogsmead.

It was a long walk, and truthfully Hermione felt less safe off Hogwarts grounds than she did on them, but regardless of that she walked the half hour to Hogsmead before finally arriving. McGonagall had told her she would find Tonks at the Hogshead pub. There was irony that she was returning to that place to flee when she had first gone there to start an opposition. Admittedly the opposition had been to one foul woman, not an entire army under a psychotic dark lord, but Hermione still found it vaguely humorous.

Removing the disillusionment charm, Hermione entered the dingy pub. Hermione immediately spotted Tonks, recognizing the particular disguise the metamorph was using. Quietly walking over, Hermione sat down across from Tonks, who currently had chestnut hair and bright blue eyes, looking to be about 19.

Tonks gave her a sad smile before speaking, "Do you want anything to drink?" Hermione shook her head.

Nodding, Tonks stood and Hermione rose following the older witch to the door of the pub. It was time to go. When they stepped out of the pub, Tonks gently gripped Hermione's hand and with a sudden crack they disappeared, leaving only the still night air behind them.

AN:/ So, hopefully that wasn't too horrible? Moreover FINALLY we get to see Harry and Fleur actually talk to each other without a flashback! Yay! More of that to come I assure you. Anyway, as always, favs, follows, reviews, flames, questions, comments, queries and concerns are all much appreciated, and while I'm a slow as shit writer, I do really appreciate all of you sticking with this story for so long.

Next Time: Harry will not realize he's a Horcrux again because he already knows and the author is an idiot for typing the opposite last time! ;) Hermione is going with Tonks, but what will she do there and will she stay with Tonks, or move in with someone else? Will Rolanda manage to get Luna to open up? Will Fleur tell Harry everything when she wakes back up? So many questions to go! Moreover, what will Emmeline have to tell Harry about the blood from the Hufflepuff cup?

Thanks again for reading!

~GGUC