Hello once again! This was originally … supposed to be something else, but then as I started writing, I got my own ideas, so here it is!

I'll be writing the other at a later date, it won't be part of the "Just a Veela Thing" series though, so it'll be in the locked box for a long time. Enjoy this one though, it's a little longer.

Thank you for all the reviews, favorites and odd follows you. You're all so sweet and supportive! I hope I don't disappoint you, let's ride this Fleurmione wave together ~

(Forgive my mistakes It's 3. Honestly, these ideas only hit me at this time)

Theme: Stars

If one were to ask a young Hermione of her thoughts on travelling, she would've stared at you, crossed her arms, and begin a speech that basically informed the asker how indecisive she would have been. Plane tickets didn't come cheap, for starters, and would she be the only one going? What about her parents? Where else could she possibly want to go? Wasn't enough that she threw herself into Hogwarts every year, visited the Weasley's every summer? In her opinion, every year she was already going to a different place, since every year was more magic, more ridiculous and more dangerous.

Then again … Britain was always cloudy, and it always seemed to be on the verge of raining. It was gloomy, hardly warm, surely other places wouldn't give off the same 'gloom and doom' feeling that surrounds Britain right?

At 14, Hermione was even more certain of that fact. When visiting France just the summer before her Fourth year (or was it Fifth?), the brunette had been so pleasantly surprised by the warmth, the sun, and general upbeat energy that never seemed to die off in the country. Britain honestly looked like a haunted mansion compared to the bright flowery nation of France.

Sadly, that would be the only other place the brunette would visit. For the next few years, she would be stuck in Britain and Hogwarts … and then a few unknown places in Europe, wandering around, solving puzzles, dealing with boys, and saving the world. All while being stuck under rain, clouds, snow, death, snatchers, and what other dangerous creature you could name at the top of your head.

This story though, takes place while Hermione and the boys were recovering from their rather traumatic experience in the Black Manor. Or whatever it was called, personally, Hermione liked to call it the 'Place-that-shall-not-be-named'. Jokes aside, the brunette had never been so frightened in her life.

It was a horrible experience. A knife digging its way forcefully under her skin, some just grazing at the bone. Blood freely running off her arm like it had been water, no. It was worse, the blood wasn't even running, it just covered her arm until it was a thick coat, slick, heavy, rustic. Bellatrix Lestrange, truly a woman to be feared, and to watch out for. It didn't sit well with Hermione though. She knew she could not keep this fear inside her heart, the fear was a weakness. Bellatrix Lestrange would not be dying anytime soon, as long as this war continued, and Hermione would surely face her again, in battle or whatnot. She could not let fear rule her, she had to get over … the whole torture experience.

As the was quietly closed, Hermione was left to her own thoughts as she sat on the edge of the bed. Her shoulders were hunched over, her head bowed low. The young witch was staring into her lap, at her empty palms with an expressionless face.

Her mind was blank, surprisingly. It was quiet in her head for once, there were no random memories of incantations, conversations, strategies, or …

Flinching, Hermione bit her bottom lip with a choked down snarl. Her hands shot up and clapped over her ears. Bringing her head even lower, the brunette was nearly curled up in a ball. It was only then that she let herself go, letting the first wave of tears gather in her eyes before they fell - one by one - down her cheeks.

It had taken so much of her strength. Screaming, crying, lying … then putting up a strong front for the boys, for everyone else in the house. She was tired, she was hurt, she couldn't draw any more strength from herself to stand up, to keep going. Could she just stay here instead? Curled up, warm, being lulled to sleep?

…

Arriving in a pile of blood, tired limbs and dirty clothes, it was a wonder that Bill and Fleur hadn't mistaken them for snatchers and quickly carried them inside to patch them up. The two had obviously been through their own share of … whatever the Order was up to now (Next to nothing?). Their eyes were tired, dull, but when Hermione had stared into Fleur Delacour's eyes, she could still see that flicker of hope. That, above all, tickled Hermione's curiosity.

Nonetheless, she had let the part Veela tend to her wounds. The other woman had her lips in a tight, thin line as she washed, disinfected and attempted to heal up the brunettes arm. Oh and the devastated look that fell onto the blonde's face when she couldn't … it had Hermione on the verge of tears. Not because she was to be scarred for life, but just the fact that she discovered the blonde did have a heart.

That and because of her silly crush on the married woman, knowing that she did care for the brunette in some way.

While the French woman continued to bring out different healing spells onto the table - surprising even the emotionally unstable Hermione - the dark curse within the scars did not go away as planned. After the fifth try, the brunette gave in, knowing nothing could possibly help this - save the caster and … really? - but Fleur didn't stop. Crying, and holding her wand with shaking fingers, the blonde continued on, healing spell after healing spell, mixing a few weaker Veela spells in. Sadly, nothing worked.

Hermione just watched on, her heart breaking every time the blondes tears hit the wooden floor. When the spells began to waver and weaken, or maybe when the woman's legs began to shake, the young witch decided to put an end to it. For both their sakes.

"Fleur. That's … that's enough. Nothing's going to work," she told the older witch in a hoarse voice. Tired, and almost lifeless. "Thank you, but … it's not going to go away," she broke, adding her own tears to the ones Fleur had graced the floor with, "This … this scar, it's going to stay here forever," Hermione cried, laughing bitterly, sadly, slightly crazed, turning her arm up to see the angry red 'MUDBLOOD' scrawl on her arm.

Flinching, probably from Hermione's first tears since arriving, or from the lifeless voice, Fleur looked ready to reply, to disagree, but Hermione was quick enough to silence her. "Let it go, Fleur. I'm tired … just let me sleep it off?" She pleaded quietly, sniffling as she tried to control the tears.

She succeeded, for all of two seconds as the blonde left the room slowly. Crossing through the door, the blonde sent the brunette a look - pity? sorrow? - before closing the door softly, leaving the brunette alone with her thoughts.

…

The next time Hermione opened her eyes, she would slowly come to the realization that the day was nearly ending. The trio, and a few others, arrived … maybe early morning, dawn perhaps? Hermione certainly didn't remember seeing anything that resembled a sun when they arrived. Waking up now, and peaking through the curtains, the brunette caught rays of sun, not bright yellow rays though, just the orange and red rays.

Had she been truly awake, she probably would've panicked and thought there was a fire first, but instead, she realized that it was the sun setting.

Had long had she been sleeping? Either way, it was a nice rest for her. As far as she was concerned, she wasn't interrupted, and no one had been in the room either, specifically the boys. Maybe Fleur had checked in a few times, but there wasn't any evidence of that. Stilling herself, Hermione closed her eyes and shifted her attention to her ears, hoping to catch any movements or sounds nearby to get a clue of what's going on.

Before the brunette could properly start guessing what sound was what, someone tapped softly against the door, startling the brunette.

"'Ermione? Are you awake?" A soft French accented voice questioned behind the door.

Licking her lips, Hermione played with the idea of not responding, but then coughed, alerting the older witch of her conscious state. "Er, yeah. I'm up … just got up," she replied, a minute or two late.

Though the brunettes response was late, it seemed the blonde already knew she was awake anyway and opened the door slowly, skillfully without making the door squeak, with one hand while the other held a tray. "That's good. You must be hungry, everyone downstairs eating, but I didn't want you to move around … unless you want to join them to eat?" she asked as she crossed the room, setting the tray down on the counter beside the bed.

The idea of being around the boys, who would question her without a doubt - or just ask the 'so what's next'? - did not appeal to her at all. So, shaking her head, Hermione sat up and turned to the tray. There was a bowl of soup, bread, more bread and a brownie. She shyly looked up at the French woman who took a seat on the other side of the bed, just sitting on the edge like Hermione had done so earlier, watching the brunette shuffle over to pick up the spoon.

For the next few minutes, Hermione slowly ate. Still slightly sleepy, she picked at the food, but did manage to swallow more than a few bites - which surprised her. The soup was nice, had vegetables in it, but it was probably the healthiest thing Hermione had to ever eat. The bread was warm and … so very French, Fleur probably brought it with her from France or something. It wasn't until Hermione turned to the brownie that Fleur spoke up.

"'ow are you feeling, 'Ermione?" She asked, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her hair, and Hermione nearly flipped the tray altogether. In her slow quest to finish off her meal, she had never forgotten that the blonde was just behind her, watching her with those … avian like eyes.

"I … Better," was all she could manage, but it was the truth. Hermione wasn't 'fine', and she wouldn't be for a long time. She would do what she had to, to fool others, to trick herself even, but she wouldn't be fine until the war was over … and then some.

Fleur seemed to understand this as well, and silently nodded, keeping watch over Hermione who picked up the brownie and ate the dessert without complaint or compliment.

"Do you wish to take a walk?" Fleur asked, cutting through the silence once more. "It … just isn't good, to be kept in here all day. Some fresh air … do you think that would help?"

Chewing and swallowing, Hermione ran the idea in her head. The place was secure enough, it was close to the ocean, which sounded great, she really needed to stretch her legs … "Sounds great," she replied, nodding as she looked past the older witches shoulder, to the window, where the sky had began to turn into a dark blue color.

As if sensing Hermione's worries, Fleur stood up, quickly gathering Hermione's attention once more, "If you'd like, I could … accompany you if you wish to go later … I mean, you … do not wish to see the boys at the moment, non?" She asked slowly, fidgeting with the edges of her shirt.

Without thinking, (stupidly eager), Hermione nodded. The two stared at one another before Fleur broke the gaze and headed for the door once more.

"I'll come up when they've gone to bed," she said over her shoulder. With that, the brunette was left to her own thoughts again. This time though, it seemed that she had run out of tears. She was just left with a heavy hollow hole in her chest, a throbbing pain on her arm, and a sore throat. The fresh air would definitely help her some, if only for her sore throat.

And how right she was.

Standing just at the edge of the waters, Hermione closed her eyes as the winds were strangely gentle. They caressed her hair, brushed against her face, but never once did they cut her cheeks like they had before. The winds carried a certain … weight, and simply eased itself onto Hermione's small frame.

She was barefooted, dressed lightly, and clearly enjoying the night walk along the beach. The waters and sand tickled her toes, but hey … that means that they worked right? It was the tiny details, the wind in her hair, the water at her toes, that truly helped her to feel as if she was being set to stand again.

Though she practiced magic and used it regularly now, this was another type of magic altogether. It was … a gift, one that Fleur had silently handed to Hermione to play with. It was freedom, safety, discovery, learning, and warmth all wrapped up in an hour long walk along the shoreline and being under the watchful eye of one part Veela.

Sitting down, crossed legged onto the sands. Hermione tilted her head up, looking at the moon and the stars that all twinkled back, some bright, some dim. Over all of it though, the calming waves rolled and washed over like a steady drum, dampening all thoughts that blared loudly in the brunettes mind. It was hypnotizing, she realized with a lazy smile.

"Do you know the stars?" The familiar French voice blended in with the waves.

Without turning to look, Hermione felt the other witch seat herself down, beside her with her head tilted up as well.

"A bit. They teach it at Hogwarts," Hermione found herself explaining, "naming the stars, planets, movements, properties," she shrugged. Honestly, the brunette had never seen much use of learning it, just knew that they were important though, that she would have to take a test for 5 years under that subject.

Beside her, the part Veela only chuckled quietly, shaking her hair, letting her hair sway from side to side slowly as her own smile stretched upon her face, "Zat is simply a tragedy," she replied, earning a raised eyebrow from Hermione, "zere is so much more to the stars than just their names and their appearances," she added.

Silent, the younger witch looked from the blonde to the skies once more. They looked no different, well … some were missing while some new ones appeared, but she wasn't at Hogwarts, and the world was round. That she understood at least. So, confused, she turned to Fleur again, before realizing the difference. "Would you tell me? Each one?" She asked, awed.

Sadly, the blonde shook her head before bright blue eyes turned to meet her own chocolate brown ones. Shocked and speechless, Hermione found herself unable to move, as the blonde seemed to search for … something before directing her gaze upwards once more.

"Each one of the stars have their own story to share. Some stories are finished, complete with a beginning, middle and end. Happy ones and sad ones," Fleur explained, "Then there are some, that have just begun, new ones, ones that only the experienced can see," … or maybe just the Veela, Hermione reasoned, "and then there are ones that have no ending yet, the ones that shine bright or dim, but live nonetheless," Fleur went on.

The blonde grew silent once more, before she raised an arm, pointing up to the sky, "There. Do you see that one? That bright one, just above the horizon?" She asked, and Hermione - who really should get glasses at some point in her life - only nodded, lying, but she did see a bright sparkle that was brighter in comparison to the ones above her head. "I believe that one tells your story," the blonde smiled, failing to notice Hermione's shocked expression.

"Last time I checked, it was dim … it was so dim, I nearly missed it," Fleur went on to explain, "but now, after a few minutes, I saw it again - and I've never seen it so bright. So … full of life. I can't read it, I've never learned, but I think that it means something. If … If I really do believe that it tells your story, Hermione, then I know that you can get past this," the blonde suddenly turned to Hermione with a soft smile. "I know that you won't let this take you down, this isn't the end for you … but just the beginning. You still have so much to live for, to look forward to."

Brushing aside Hermione's slack jaw and shocked eyes, Fleur leaned in and held her palms softly against Hermione's cheeks, "Please. Don't ever give up, not again. Your arm … even that, I believe, will one day fade away. 'Ermione … stay strong," the blonde pleaded quietly, taking the brunette into her arms, embracing the lioness tightly.

Speechless, and slightly shy, Hermione turned her head to face the waters once more. This time, squinting, Hermione was puzzled, but she could clearly see one other bright star beside the … well, she was going to assume that was the one Fleur pointed out to her. Wait a minute, turning her head to Fleur's soft face and then to the two bright stars, Hermione blushed.

"R-right. Got it," she said stiffly, standing up, and confusing the blonde who only tilted her head up at her. "I … Let's go back inside! Otherwise the rest of them will wonder …" the explained to the blonde who chuckled and followed, standing up to follow the brunette who hastily jogged back into the cottage.

The blonde lingered though and turned her back to the cottage, facing the ocean once more.

Hm?

Noticing the two stars, brighter than the rest surrounding them, Fleur blinked. When did that one get there? Or more importantly, when did I miss that one? Confused, Fleur kept that at the back of her mind - definitely something she would bring up to her grandmother to study at, if they made it out of the war of course, she thought fondly if not a little grimly.

Inside though, Hermione was already in her room, sitting by the window. Her face was still a little flushed as she stared outside, watching the blonde make her way inside before she turned her attention back to the stars once more.

Stupid Fleur and her unintentional romantic talk, the brunette thought as she pulled the curtains with more force than necessary, covering the view for the night.

Hermione's Notes

Touch it and You Will Find a Nasty Surprise

No Seriously, Just Leave this Book Alone

That means you: Fleur. Ron. Ginny.

ENTRY 1

… Dear lord, however should I start this? Let's start with the basics. Hermione Granger, old enough now … in the middle of the Second(?) War against … you know, I'm wondering if it's alright to even write his name at this point. Either way, I'm writing this as an attempt to … either sort out these feelings or just making an educated list - for future reference. (The Veela are quite secretive, you know?)

We'll start off this entry with Fleur and the stars. From what I understand, the Veela have some … connection with the stars. 'Each have their own story. Some are complete, some just started, and some are in the middle. You can tell, just about, what is going on by their brightness, or lack thereof.' Or something along those lines.

Fleur herself isn't 'trained' to read any deeper, but that means other Veelas are? Full blooded ones? Or ones that stay in the forest (Which are usually full blooded anyway)?

You know, as if the Veela aren't sexual or romantic enough, they have to bring in the whole 'stars' and 'story' onto the table. Maybe it's because she's French … I mean, most romantic people ever, or is that a stereotype?

I'll have to look more into it, but to sum it all up: Stars - part of the romantic language of Veela.

(August 28, 2020)

Wow. It's been a while. Been a long time since I decided to look back at all these entries. I already have … well, I have a shelf full of these 'entry' notebooks now. Time flies, especially since I'm actually living now. No more fear, minimal exposure to danger, and lots of comfort and loving to keep me on my toes and smiling every day.

Stars, though. After talking with Fleur's grandmother - Adelheid - it really is just a Veela thing. Veelas live on love, their hearts beat for their mate or … well, our hearts resonante, it creates a harmony that nothing on this mortal plane can begin to measure. Instead, the stars take its place. Off this planet, fed by the Veelas energy, it can just … effortlessly show us our value - it's still tiny compared to the universe, just saying - and it's a great way to keep track of our lives.

It's obviously much more complicated, but … I just like to focus on that part - it's the part where I get to feel so connected with Fleur (it's the absolute best).

Downside: whenever we're fighting, any skilled Veela can tell with a single glance. Privacy much?

Again, summing things up now that I know more: Stars, it's just a Veela thing, a gift they are given and fondly recognized for from only a handful of people (their mates). That's just the thing, only the people who need to know, will.

Aaaaaand, goodnight, readers. More will come in due time.

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