Part 13

Hermione lingered by Fleur's bedside for two weeks, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as if she could contain the storm of emotions churning inside her. The words she had thrown at Fleur before her collapse replayed in her mind on a loop, each syllable sharper than the last.

Was I too cruel? The thought flitted through her mind, but she quickly shoved it aside. Fleur had deserved the anger, hadn't she? Yet now, seeing her pale and vulnerable, Hermione couldn't shake the gnawing guilt that she might have pushed too far.

She turned abruptly, leaving the room before the emotions threatened to overwhelm her.

Hermione found herself in the kitchen, staring blankly at a cup of tea that had long since gone cold. She wasn't sure how long she had been sitting there when Aurelie entered, her presence filling the room with a quiet confidence that Hermione both envied and resented.

"You can't sit here all day, you know," Aurelie said, placing a fresh pot of tea on the counter.

Hermione glared at her. "I'm not in the mood for company."

Aurelie raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "And yet, here I am. Fleur wouldn't want you to sulk."

"Don't," Hermione snapped, her voice low but sharp. "Don't tell me what Fleur would want. You don't get to do that."

Aurelie leaned back against the counter, crossing her arms. "You're right. I don't. But someone has to remind you that you're not the only one hurting here."

The words stung, and Hermione hated that they did. She looked away, her gaze fixed on the teapot. "I didn't mean for this to happen," she admitted, her voice cracking.

"I know," Aurelie said, her tone softening. She moved to sit across from Hermione, her expression uncharacteristically gentle. "But you've been carrying so much anger for so long, Hermione. At some point, it's going to consume you."

Hermione's throat tightened. "What am I supposed to do with it? Just let it go? Pretend everything's fine?"

"No," Aurelie said firmly. "You don't have to forgive Fleur overnight. But maybe... stop punishing yourself for feeling hurt. You're human, Hermione. You're allowed to be messy, to make mistakes."

Before Hermione could respond, the sound of small footsteps echoed in the hall. Victoire appeared in the doorway, clutching a worn stuffed dragon to her chest.

"Mama?" she asked, her voice small and uncertain.

Hermione's heart clenched. She forced a smile and opened her arms, letting Victoire climb into her lap. The little girl curled against her, her warmth a bittersweet comfort.

"Is Maman going to wake up?" Victoire asked, her voice muffled against Hermione's shirt.

Hermione hesitated, her throat tightening. "She's resting, sweetheart. She'll wake up when she's ready."

Victoire looked up at her, her wide blue eyes filled with worry. "Did you fight with Maman again?"

Hermione froze, guilt crashing over her like a wave. "Sometimes grown-ups fight," she said carefully. "But it doesn't mean we don't love each other."

Victoire seemed to accept this, snuggling closer. Hermione held her tightly, as if the little girl could anchor her in the storm of emotions threatening to pull her under.

Later that evening, Hermione found herself back in Fleur's room, Victoire asleep in her arms. Aurelie stood in the doorway, watching silently before stepping inside.

"She'll be okay," Aurelie said softly, her voice more a statement than a question.

Hermione didn't respond immediately, her eyes fixed on Fleur's pale face. "What if she's not?"

"She's strong," Aurelie said. "Stronger than you give her credit for. And so are you."

Hermione looked at her, something fragile and raw in her expression. "What if I can't forgive her? What if I'm too broken to make this work?"

Aurelie's gaze softened. "Then you'll figure it out. But for now, maybe just focus on being here. For her. For Victoire. For yourself."

Hermione nodded slowly, her grip on Victoire tightening. For the first time in weeks, she allowed herself to believe that maybe—just maybe—there was a way forward. It wouldn't be easy. It wouldn't be perfect. But it would be something.

And for now, that was enough.

The tension in the house was thick enough to cut with a knife. Hermione had been sitting in the living room with a book she wasn't reading, Victoire asleep upstairs, and Fleur still unconscious in the bedroom. The comforting hum of tea brewing in the kitchen had lulled her into a rare moment of stillness.

That stillness shattered when she heard raised voices echoing from the hall.

She set her book aside and rose, following the sound to the front door, where Apolline and Aurelie stood facing off like two dueling dragons.

"I think you've overstayed your welcome," Apolline said, her usually calm voice edged with ice. Her elegance made the statement all the sharper, her perfectly tailored robes a stark contrast to Aurelie's more casual appearance.

Aurelie crossed her arms, unfazed. "I'm here to help, Auntie. Someone has to."

"And you think that someone is you?" Apolline snapped, her eyes narrowing. "You're not helping, Aurelie. You're meddling. There is a difference."

Hermione froze, unsure whether to step in or stay silent. She opted for the latter, leaning against the wall, her arms crossed.

Aurelie scoffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. 'Meddling? Is it meddling to make sure Hermione eats? To be there for her while she's drowning in guilt and worry?'

Apolline's face flushed, her composure slipping for a moment. 'This is Fleur's home, and Hermione's. Not yours. You've turned their grief into an excuse to hover like some opportunistic vulture."

Hermione's eyes widened, her jaw tightening. Opportunistic vulture? Apolline rarely lashed out, and seeing her so openly furious was jarring.

Aurelie's smile was razor-sharp, her voice dripping with faux innocence. "Is that what you think? Or are you just upset that I'm doing what Fleur can't right now? Someone has to hold Hermione together."

"That someone should be Fleur," Apolline retorted, her voice rising. "And if you had an ounce of respect for your cousin, you'd step back and let them work through this instead of inserting yourself at every turn."

"That's enough!" Hermione's voice cut through the tension like a whip. Both women turned to her, startled.

She stepped forward, her expression a mixture of exhaustion and frustration. "This isn't helping anyone - least of all Fleur or Victoire. If you have an issue with each other, take it somewhere else. I've got enough to deal with without refereeing your family drama."

Apolline's face softened slightly, guilt flickering in her eyes. Aurelie, on the other hand, held Hermione's gaze, her expression unreadable.

"I'm sorry," Apolline said quietly, turning back to Aurelie. "But you should leave."

Aurelie's jaw tightened, but she nodded. "Fine. If that's what Hermione wants." She turned to Hermione, her voice softer. "Do you want me to go?"

Hermione hesitated. The truth was, Aurelie's presence had been both comforting and infuriating. She didn't know how to answer without causing more conflict. Aurelie was one of her closest friend.

"I think..." Hermione began, then trailed off, rubbing her temples. "I need space. From both of you. Please, just give me some time to think."

Aurelie's face fell slightly, but she nodded. "I understand." She grabbed her coat and left without another word.

Apolline approached Hermione cautiously. "I'm sorry, dear. I didn't mean to cause more stress."

Hermione shook her head, collapsing into the nearest chair. "It's fine. I'm just... exhausted."

Apolline hesitated, then placed a gentle hand on Hermione's shoulder. "Fleur will wake soon. And when she does, you'll have the strength to face whatever comes next."

Hermione wanted to believe her, but as she sat in the quiet aftermath of the confrontation, she wasn't sure she had the energy to hold anything together anymore.

For now, all she could do was wait.