Harry Potter:Diamond Heart.

She couldn't breathe.

There were dark spots hovering in her eyes and the lake around her seemed strangely grey. Fleur knew her spell would take her to surface, that she just had to hold on, but the impulse to take a breath was so strong she wasn't sure she could resist much longer.

Gradually the dark spot swelled to cover more and more of the lake and the bursting, aching pain in her chest grew too strong to be ignored any longer. She hoped she was above the water, because she couldn't hold on any longer.

Fleur took a deep breathe.

The water was icy cold, so cold that it burnt and froze the inside of her mouth and throat as she instinctively gulped for air.

None came. The desperate desire for oxygen only intensified, and her addled brain could only provide one solution.

If I cannot reach the air, then the air must reach me.

'Evanesco,' she croaked, pouring everything she had into the spell, desiring only that the water within and above her vanish.

A surge of exhaustion overwhelmed her and she gasped at its intensity, the cold and the wet had made her magic slow and sluggish, but her strength still obeyed her, despite the increased toll.

Sweet, blissful air rushed into her lungs.

In an instant the black spots were gone and she could think again. She half-wished she could not. Fleur was still rising, but the lake was returning to reclaim its victim. The water she had vanished had left a ten metre high cone of air above, but the black water was returning faster than she was rising.

She took one last deep breathe as the walls of water rushed to meet her and hoped that the impact didn't hurt too much.

The water hit hard, from both sides, spinning her around like a doll and leaving her dizzy. Amazingly her wand remained in her grasp, and, though most of the air had been knocked out her, the urge to breathe was nowhere near as overwhelming as it had been before.

All she had to do was swim up.

Fleur kicked upwards, towards the dark surface of the water only to stop when a stream of silver bubbles sank down from her nose and lips, past her chin towards the bright depths of the lake.

Bubbles don't sink, Fleur realised.

Fleur turned herself around, swimming as fast as she could up towards the light, the surface, air and life.

She burst to the surface, gasping with relief, and taking deep lungfuls of air.

For a minute she floated there, kicking water, revelling in her ability to breathe normally, then events caught up with her.

Gabrielle.

Her sister was still down at the bottom of the lake, her only hope of rescue lying in the hands of Harry Potter. Fleur wanted to believe that he would take Gabrielle with her, she needed to believe it.

Harry was noble, and he was like her; he would understand what Gabby meant to her and bring her back. She was sure that he was not cruel enough to deliberately and knowingly take her sister away from her. There was no reason for such an action.

He knew what he was doing when he caused the distraction that let Krum hit me.

It was an ugly thought, but it was true. Harry had put the tournament and winning before everything else, indirectly preventing her from saving her sister. For a moment she had truly hated him for it.

If he did not save Gabrielle, then he had as good as killed her, and Harry had no real obligation to save her younger sibling. Fleur had come to the conclusion that his returned inability to notice her was not a coincidence, and it hadn't taken much thought to work out why he might be acting distantly towards her. She had kissed him and then avoided him, reached out to him and snatched her hand away.

Some equal I was.

None of that, however, mattered as much as Gabrielle.

If she is gone…

Fleur could not even finish the thought, her stomach and heart twisted all up and around one another, and her eyes grew hot. She had to know if he had saved her.

Striking out towards the shore, forcing the last of her magic to keep her warm, she swam as fast she was able. Her route back across the lake surface would be quicker if she could keep the cold from seeping in and as long as she persevered; she might even arrive back before Krum or Harry did.

When they returned with their hostages, Fleur would know if she had lost her sister or not.

Please let Harry have saved her, she begged of anything that might be listening.

The family would be nothing without capricious, clever Gabby and her playful nature. A hard lump formed in her throat and her eyes prickled violently.

Fleur Delacour does not cry, she tried to remind herself, but for the first time in years her pride failed to catch the tears before they fell and warm trails began to trace their way down her cheeks and into the lake.

By the time she reached the finish she had cried herself into exhaustion, and the cold of the lake had settled into more than her muscles. Fleur could not even manage to drag herself up onto the platform, the mediwitch, Madam Pomfrey, had to levitate her and then hold her up before she could collapse.

'Come with me, Miss Delacour,' the stern witch ordered, already casting warming charms.

'Gabrielle,' Fleur managed to say, shaking her head and looking around desperately.

There was no sign of any of the other champions.

'Anyone who comes out of the lake will be brought straight to this tent,' Madam Pomfrey told her kindly. 'You will see you sister quickest if you come this way.'

Fleur was too weak to escape the witch's firm grip on her arm and could only hope that she was right. There were three full beds in the medic tent, the three furthest from the door, and a shirtless Krum, whose torso was covered in hundreds of small bite marks. Gabrielle was not among the occupants of the tent and Fleur's tears threatened to return.

'Sit,' the mediwitch commanded, pushing Fleur towards one of the beds. She traced her wand over her lips and lower face, eliciting a spike of pain. Fleur flinched away from the unexpected discomfort, earning a tut from Madam Pomfrey, but she didn't care. The condition of her face did not even come close to how important her sister was.

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