When Hermione had first seen Fleur that night as she appeared at the entrance to the ball, Fleur had glanced at her with one blue eye, the other hidden. The eye had followed her for a full five minutes, it seemed, and so Hermione's neck had crawled.
Hermione wondered now if the hair had been tucked back to reveal the other eye, wondered if the eyes could see her. They felt like they were on her neck, raking it in analysis ... results of which might be too much for Hermione to bear. Were Hermione's feelings written on her neck there? Had Ginny perhaps, as a prank, done it, an amusing rakugaki while Hermione slept? Had it grown there like a strange collection of freckles or a rash, or had an insect scored it? Her mind ran wild with the thoughts, but surely, the eyes were looking at her neck, and they could see her secret.
"I..." Hermione whispered. I'm not ready, she thought.
Veelas have great control of their bodies. If they're smart, like Fleur, they take off their shoes and pad towards people quietly. Maybe the faint shapes Hermione's eyes made were actually the other girl, as she drifted in the space between the two of them.
How do you approach someone when you feel you should have complete control of the situation, but don't? Hesitation, fear, gripped at Fleur as she slid and flowed. Conservative prey was a pain in the ass, even for her. The fear, though, was swallowed, pushed down a pink throat with the great control of a Veela. She swore in her head then as she unconsciously, without thinking or a plan, leaned in towards Hermione, lips at her ear, Hermione in her lungs before she was ready for her. She was shaking.
"Found you." Fleur whispered and Hermione arched, a little gasp caught on her teeth. When you're afraid, you try to hold things in, even gasps that you've dreamed about letting loose. Hermione stood her ground, though. She loved the heat emanating from Fleur and could not bring herself to leave it.