Part 14

A month had passed, and the house had settled into an unfamiliar rhythm. Fleur remained unconscious in the upstairs bedroom, her breathing steady but shallow. Cecile's visits had grown less frequent, the Healer explaining there was little more she could do until Fleur's Veela magic naturally restored itself.

Hermione found herself surprised by the quiet peace that had taken hold of her life. Days were filled with Victoire's laughter, Apolline's company, and the soothing routine of care and play. In the evenings, Hermione would sit by the fire, reading the notes Aurelie sent along with the meals she delivered through a house-elf.

Each note was a reminder of the work they'd shared before everything had spiraled - projects on potion research, theories about magical bonding, and ideas for developing non-invasive healing salves. It was strange, revisiting those moments of camaraderie through carefully written words. She missed the sharp wit of Aurelie's presence, but she couldn't deny that the absence of tension had done wonders for her mental state.

Hermione sat on the porch swing with Victoire snuggled close, the little girl humming softly as she played with her doll. The summer breeze rustled through the garden, carrying the scent of roses. Apolline was inside, making tea.

For the first time in years, Hermione felt like she could breathe.

She glanced up at the sky, her thoughts drifting. Guilt had clawed at her for weeks, a relentless whisper that she should be doing more - trying harder to wake Fleur, to fix what was broken between them. But the more time passed, the more she couldn't ignore the truth simmering beneath her guilt.

She was at peace with Fleur's absence.

Not happy, exactly, but... balanced. Her days weren't consumed by arguments, by the constant push and pull of mistrust and resentment. She didn't have to guard herself against the barbed comments or sidestep the emotional landmines that had defined their relationship.

And then there was Aurelie.

Hermione leaned back on the swing, her mind wandering to the days before Fleur had crashed again into her life. She and Aurelie had been an unlikely pair back then - Hermione, still reeling from her war scars, and Aurelie brimming with unapologetic charm.

They'd bonded over their shared disillusionment and fierce intellect, their late-night conversations about politics and magical theory blending seamlessly into quiet moments of understanding. There had been laughter, too - genuine, unguarded, the kind that came from a place of trust and no expectations.

Hermione's stomach twisted at the memory of Aurelie's tentative confession of idea of the both of them.

"We deserve a second chance, you and I," Aurelie had said, her voice steady but soft.

Hermione had agreed. At the time, it had felt like a lifeline - an anchor in the storm. But then Fleur had happened, and everything had changed.

"Hermione, you're miles away," Apolline's voice drew her back to the present. She stood at the door, holding a tray of tea and biscuits.

"Just thinking," Hermione replied, offering a small smile.

Apolline sat beside her, passing her a cup of tea. "About Fleur?"

Hermione hesitated, then shook her head. "Not exactly."

Apolline raised an eyebrow, but didn't press. Instead, she focused on Victoire, brushing a hand gently through the little girl's hair.

"She adores you, you know," Apolline said softly. "You've done wonderfully with her."

"Thank you," Hermione murmured.

After a long pause, Apolline spoke again. "I see the way you look at Aurelie's notes. The way your eyes light up when you talk about your projects. You've always had that spark with her, haven't you?"

Hermione froze, her fingers tightening around her teacup. "I don't know what you mean."

Apolline gave her a sad smile. "I think you do."

Hermione didn't respond, her gaze fixed on the horizon.

That night, after tucking Victoire into bed, Hermione sat at the dining table, rereading Aurelie's most recent note. It was simple - an observation about a potion they'd developed year ago and a suggestion to revisit its properties. But something about the familiarity of Aurelie's handwriting, the thoughtfulness in her words, stirred a long-buried ache in Hermione's chest.

For the first time in weeks, she allowed herself to wonder.

Hermione struggled with her thoughts for a long time, trying to rationalize Fleur's behavior. She tried to rationalize and irrationalize it, and none of it suited her. Finally, she left Victoire with Apolline and went to Cecile's cottage. Inside, Fleur's grandmother was busy mumbling some spell in the Veelas language over a piece of wood. The Englishwoman watched her in silence, leaning against the door frame, waiting for Cecile to finish. 'This is a new wand, for Victoire.' Cecile explained before Hermione could ask. 'Oh.' Hermione mumbled, admiring the new wand for her daughter. 'The core is Apolline's hair.' Cecile smiled. 'It's a family tradition that granddaughters receive grandmother's hair for their wands.' Hermione nodded. 'What's troubling you, child?' Cecile looked at her seriously, gesturing for her to sit on a chair. The brunette sat down and without hesitation she explained what had been occupying her thoughts for the last few weeks: 'I've been racking my brain over this, I've tried every way of thinking I know. And I can't understand it... After all, the Veelas' bond from what I've read is a form of the purest love, it's downright sacred. Soulmates feel their emotions, they can even know what the other person is thinking, they can find each other even at the end of the world! This is downright utopian, Veelas go crazy if they're not with their soulmate, and yet... and yet Fleur managed to tarnish it all, as if it meant nothing. It should have been a perfect bond! The perfect form of love! I couldn't look at anyone like I did her, every touch, every kiss from another person disgusted me, and she...' Hermione rubbed her eyes, taking a deep breath. 'She chose anyone else but me.' 'So you're disappointed that your love isn't one of those romance novels, right?' Cecile asked after a moment, smiling slightly. 'I just...' Hermione didn't know how to answer. 'I just thought it was obvious that if her soul chose mine then we were meant to be together and that...'

'That without knowing your human nature you would suddenly become each other's complement and in a perfect relationship, hmm?' Cecile added gently. 'Well... I guess you could put it that way.' Hermione confirmed uncertainly. Cecile looked at her for a long time. 'Listen child, every relationship requires work, even one written in the stars. You have such different characters. How can you be together without knowing each other?' Hermione suddenly straightened up, understanding written on her face. 'Possibly... but why did she push me away so much? I can't understand that... for years I felt unworthy, inadequate... I still feel that way, knowing that our marriage was made only to save Victoire...'

'Fleur doesn't accept her nature, her heritage. How can she accept you and the love you give her, if she can't accept the Veela that lives inside her? Since childhood she has done everything against herself to prove that she is not one of us. Until she accepts her nature she will be split and you will remain in limbo, asking yourself: was it worth it? And probably lean more towards Aurelie...' Cecile mumbled at the end. 'Forgive me, Cecile. Aurelie is a wonderful woman, I don't want to lead her on, but it's hard to limit our contact, considering our common interests...' Hermione explained, blushing. 'I don't blame you for that, but pay attention not to play with feelings. Veelas live for love and family, each of us is extremely emotional and amorous. It is hard for us to control the needs of our hearts...'

'Fleur has no problem with that.' The Englishwoman noted bitterly.

'You have yet to get to know each other, not as the flighty ones from school and that unfortunate tournament, but as adult women, mothers, which you are.'

FLEUR POV

Fleur's first conscious thought was pain - a deep, aching exhaustion that seeped into her bones and made her chest feel like it was filled with lead. She couldn't open her eyes right away; her body felt too heavy, her mind foggy and unsteady. She drifted between awareness and nothingness, the sound of faint voices pulling her closer to the surface each time.

Eventually, she forced herself to focus. Her eyelids fluttered open, and she was greeted by the dim light of the room she immediately recognized as their shared bedroom.

But it didn't feel like home. It felt distant, unfamiliar in a way that made her stomach churn. Fleur turned her head slightly, her gaze settling on the untouched side of the bed. It was pristine, as if no one had slept there for weeks.

Panic clawed at her throat. Her Veela instincts surged, screaming at her to find her mate, to know where Hermione was. But her rational mind, as fragile as it felt, reminded her of the weight of her mistakes. The guilt. The shame.

She'd lost Hermione. Maybe not physically, but emotionally, Fleur had driven her away. The bond they shared - the bond that was supposed to be unbreakable, sacred- had been tarnished by Fleur's inability to accept herself.

With trembling hands, Fleur pushed herself into a sitting position. Her muscles protested, weak from disuse. She glanced around the room, her heart sinking further as she took in the subtle changes. The absence of Hermione's belongings, the neatly folded blanket draped over a chair, the half-empty wardrobe.

Hermione had been here, but she'd been keeping her distance.

Fleur took a shaky breath, her mind racing. She had to find Hermione, to explain, to beg for forgiveness if that's what it took. But she knew deep down that words wouldn't be enough. She would have to show Hermione that she was willing to change, to be better.

The sound of voices drifted through the slightly open door. Fleur's ears perked up, her Veela instincts honing in on the familiar cadence of Hermione's voice. She slid off the bed, her legs unsteady beneath her, and made her way to the doorway.

"I don't know if I can do this anymore, Cecile," Hermione's voice was quiet but heavy with emotion. Fleur froze just out of sight, her heart clenching at the pain in her mate's tone.

"You've already done so much, child," Cecile replied, her voice gentle but firm. "And you're stronger than you think. But it's not just up to you. Fleur needs to meet you halfway."

"She's been unconscious for a two months," Hermione said bitterly. "How am I supposed to trust that she'll suddenly change? That she even wants to?"

"You don't have to decide that today," Cecile said. "But you'll have to decide eventually. Whether it's worth the risk."

Fleur's chest ached at the vulnerability in Hermione's voice. She'd hurt her so deeply, created a chasm between them that might never be bridged. But Cecile was right. If there was any hope of repairing what they'd lost, Fleur would have to take the first step.

Summoning what little courage she had left, Fleur pushed the door open. Hermione and Cecile both turned to face her, their expressions a mixture of surprise and caution.

"Fleur," Hermione said, her tone unreadable.

"I..." Fleur's voice faltered, her throat dry. She swallowed hard, her gaze locking onto Hermione's. "We need to talk."

Hermione's eyes narrowed slightly, her walls already rising. "Do we?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. "Because I think we've already said everything that needs to be said. Many times... all I think we are doing is talking..."

Fleur flinched at the coldness in Hermione's voice but refused to back down. "Maybe you've said everything, but I haven't. Please, Hermione. Give me a chance."

Hermione hesitated, her gaze searching Fleur's face for any sign of sincerity. Finally, she sighed and gestured toward the sitting room. "Fine."

Fleur nodded, following Hermione into the room. She sat on the edge of the sofa, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Hermione remained standing, her posture tense.

"Go on," Hermione said, her tone sharp.

Fleur took a deep breath, steadying herself. "I don't know where to start. I've made so many mistakes, hurt you in ways I can never take back. But I want to try. I want to make things right."

Hermione's expression didn't soften. "Why now? Why does it take a collapse for you to realize what you've done?"

Fleur's gaze dropped to her hands. "Because I was a coward," she admitted. "I was afraid to face myself, to face the truth of who I am and what I've done. But lying in that bed, unconscious, I... I felt everything. The bond, your pain, your anger. It was suffocating. And I knew that if I ever woke up, I couldn't keep running."

Hermione's jaw tightened. "Do you even know me, Fleur? Really know me? Because I don't think you do. And I don't think I know you either."

Fleur's head snapped up, her eyes wide with surprise. "Of course I know you," she said, her voice wavering.

"Do you?" Hermione challenged. "Then tell me, Fleur. Who am I? Beyond the bond, beyond what you think you feel because of your Veela instincts. Who am I to you?"

Fleur opened her mouth, but no words came. She realized with a sinking heart that Hermione was right. She'd never taken the time to truly understand Hermione - her passions, her fears, her dreams outside of their relationship. She'd been so focused on the bond that she'd overlooked the person.

Hermione shook her head, a bitter smile tugging at her lips. "That's what I thought."

"Then let me get to know you," Fleur said desperately. "Let me earn your trust again. Please, Hermione."

Hermione studied her for a long moment before finally sighing. "Fine. But this isn't about fixing us. Not yet. This is about starting over. Getting to know each other as we are now, not as we were then."

Fleur nodded, hope flickering in her chest. "I'll do whatever it takes."

Hermione's expression remained guarded, but there was a glimmer of something softer in her eyes. "Then let's start with something simple. Let's get you feeded.'

Hermione's days fell into a quiet rhythm, but there was always a nagging tension in the back of her mind. Fleur had awoken, and despite their brief exchange, Hermione felt unmoored. The lingering resentment, the unresolved pain, and Cecile's advice about getting to know each other as adults weighed heavily on her. She resolved not to rush anything and to let time and actions pave the way forward. But that didn't mean the path would be easy.