Dance With Me

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Harper sat in the quiet kitchen, building a mental wall brick by brick as the sleeping house silently cried in pain. Mourning the loss of someone and the near death that each survivor experienced a short period ago. Watching the tendrils of steam lazily waft upward from her coffee, the scent of vanilla relaxing her the muscles in her neck that seemed to stay by her ears as she strained to build barriers.

She hadn't slept, watching over George all night, making sure his wound didn't open if he rolled wrong on the couch. Her eyes stung, removing her contacts and begrudgingly wearing her glasses, she began chewing on her bottom lip, turning the small container that held her contacts in her hand. The house felt alive all night long, she could hear whispers and caught Harry and Ron talking in hushed voices before hurrying upstairs before she made her first cup of coffee for the evening. She could feel that everyone was silently awake, waiting for the sun to probably hit their floorboards before moving and embracing the hollow day ahead.

In between watching George's sleeping form, Harper looked over the remaining memories, the final memory had been her arrival to Hogwarts and the evening she spent with Sybill and meeting Angelina for the very first time. It was a hollow victory, finishing the memories. It wasn't until after several minutes of staring at the basin and the bare cardboard, that Harper finally admitted that she had lost dozens of memories. The confirmation of losing so countless memories twisted her stomach into such a knot her abdomen felt hard as she tried to soothe the guilt. Had it been by her own hands or Snape? Harper couldn't be certain, but it was the crushing blow to her mental state that she couldn't handle in the tense atmosphere.

"Good morning," Fleur yawned, sitting beside her at the table. "How is George?"

"Asleep, gave him a sleeping draught," Harper said, taking a long sip of her coffee.

Fleur smiled, pouring herself a cup of the dark liquid, filling it halfway with cream. Harper smiled slightly, looking down at her own dark cup, a splash of cream barely turning the black liquid a lighter chocolate color.

"You know....I noticed in my memories? You rarely talked to me when you visited Hogwarts that one year," Harper spoke up, running a hand through her shaggy hair.

"I knew Astrid and Marjorie wanted to upset you after the first night there, I...I didn't. It was a long time ago, but I wasn't one of the students who turned away from you," Fleur patted her hand slightly. "But I admit, I was one of the ones who distanced themselves....out of fear." Harper made a noise at the confession.

"I was scared of any fighting between us also," Fleur admitted. "I should've tried harder to stop those two...."

Harper shrugged, pursing her lips, "I wonder if that's why the rest of the school that came ignored me. Pretended they hadn't seen me..."

Fleur let out a long sigh, nodding slightly, "it's what I'd heard going around the carriages. Madame Maxime didn't want any issues while there."

The French girl began to slowly braid her hair, leaning back in her seat as Harper got to her feet and went to the counter for a third cup of coffee.

"You're walking very well without your cane," Fleur complimented.

"Hard to dance with a cane," Harper smiled into her mug, gingerly sitting back down.

"I'm sure you know, but George was a wreck while you were gone....barely eating, sleeping, anytime he'd attend an Order meeting Fred had to talk him off a ledge....Fred took his wand. He was a complete mess," Fleur mused, twisting her hair as she looked toward the sitting room where the red head slept soundly. "He is very lucky to have gotten you back."

Harper glanced at the French woman beside her, Fleur had a contemplative smile on her face as she continued twisting her silvery-blonde hair. "He is," Harper agreed.

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