Prologue: The Fairy Circle
On that clear summer night every street she walked down lead her towards something new and wonderful. She had no real destination. As said by Lewis Carroll, "If you don't know where you are going, any road will get you there." Well, Hermione Granger certainly didn't know where she was going but it seemed every street led her where she wanted to go. After spending the whole week with her family touring Marseille, France her parents wanted a date night, leaving the fourteen year old witch to her own devices. She had scoured the east side of the city, finding interesting cafés, parks, clothing stores, book shops and other cultural locations. She carried at least three bags worth of new fashions and books, each in colorful bags with different store logos. It was like an adventure to the bushy haired witch. While she knew the excitement was hardly that of her adventures with Harry and Ron, this adventure was all her own. She didn't have to filter herself for Ronald's sake or constantly worry over Harry's well being and council him through his latest crisis. It was liberating in a way, being separated from them.
This applied even more so with her parents. While Hermione loved them dearly spending a massive amount of time in the magical world put a damper on her relationship with her mother and father. Just as she did with Ron the young witch was forced to filter her magical opinions and thoughts while in the company her parents. It was the small Freudian slips that set her parents off, like, "I think that man just confundused that shopkeeper" or, "That is not what a mermaid looks like" or even, "Mom, have you seen my wand?" It never failed to cause a moment of awkward silence before her mother hastily moved to another subject. They really did try to understand, but her parents treated her magical education as some sort of phase instead of an important part of her life. Whenever her future was brought up they expected her to become a dentist or a doctor, and not a magical doctor, but a normal one, perhaps going to school in America. Hermione never deigned to comment on her future. She was too young and wanted to enjoy this time in her life, learning new things day by day and make the decision later. It was reasonable excuse that didn't crush her parents' hearts and allowed her the necessary time to consider her options. She couldn't imagine how distant their lives would eventually grow when she took on a magical job, living in the magical world for her entire life instead of just nine months out of the year.
A flickering lamppost caught the fourteen-year-old's attention. Hermione halted, suspicion causing her body to stiffen and her blood run cold. The paved sidewalk had detoured a few yards, heading into a forested area. At first she was excited by the idea of taking a stroll through a forest at night. Now she regretted the romantic impulses. The bushy brunette could feel irregular magic nearby as she drew her wand. She had to keep a level head when using it, but if there was danger nearby Hermione would rather be reprimanded for using magic outside of school than caught off guard. Years of knowing Harry taught her to be vigilant to say the least. She still couldn't erase the image of Professor Lupin as a werewolf out of her head. The lampposts continued to flicker off and on as Hermione took in her surroundings. There was no one in sight. The road curved ahead, hiding behind the thicket of bushes and trees.
She wasn't paranoid. She knew magic when she sensed it, but this magic was so different. It wasn't channeled or restrained at all. No witch or wizard could emit this kind of energy. A magical creature perhaps? Hermione cursed herself for not researching France's native magical creatures before leaving England. What if it was an invasive species though?
After a few moments of silence the young witch regarded the still environment as safe, though the lights continued to waver uncontrollably and out of sync. It was eerie but her nervousness was replaced with curiosity. If she could just follow the flow of magical energy, then perhaps she would find the source. Normally magic wasn't this sensual but Hermione could literally feel this strange and oddly vigorous energy. The only hesitance she had was that the energy seemed to be coming from the woods, off the paved road. If she looked back, the teenager could see the lights of the shopping centers she had come from. Perhaps their light could guide her back. Her decision made, Hermione took her first few steps towards the woods, brushing passed a few prickly bushes.
The further she traveled away from the main road the more palpable the magical essence became. It made her skin tingle and her hair stand on end. Usually this was nothing extraordinary, her bushy hair uncontrollable; however every hair on her body was affected, feeling acute and aware. As unnerving as this was Hermione persisted.
After she had trekked a few yards the young witch came across a black fence with a notice stating: "Propriété privée." She once again hesitated, staring at the sign for what seemed like hours. Her rational side knew it was mere minutes, but the chill down her spine affected her thinking process. She couldn't go any further. Private property. Her French was rough at best, but she recognized the two words. It would be illegal to go within the fence's confines.
Perhaps Harry and Ron had become a bad influence on Hermione, for at that moment her only reaction to the illegality of it all was, "but I want to." She mumbled this under her breath, as if not wanting it to be heard. The young witch stared at the fence, hypnotized by the tantalizing temptation. She knew Harry and Ron would have no hesitation…and that magic, she could just feel it. It was so close, the answer to her mystery. Her mystery. This was her adventure and she'd be damned if she let it end because of some silly sign. Mustering that famous Gryffindor courage, Hermione tucked her shopping bags near an odd looking tree and advanced towards the fence. The climb was a struggle. She wasn't the most fit of her age group. Her lack of upper body strength definitely stalled her, but with a little perseverance and a well planned technique Hermione was over the fence.
Hermione kept her wand aloft and tight in hand. She could literally see her arm hairs standing on end. As suspicious as she was the young witch couldn't bring herself to claim this magic was malevolent in any way. The strange essence seemed more of a pleasurable drug. Not in the sense of dulling one's senses, but rather it gave Hermione a giddy alertness. It was like caffeine, tuning her senses rather than negatively affecting them. It made her feel alive.
Her heart only beat faster as she spotted a clearing up ahead, her breath catching in suspense. She felt the magic stronger than ever as she inched towards the small meadow. The waxing moon illuminated the small glade, catching the wings of fireflies and other insects buzzed about the grass. They, like Hermione, seemed comfortable in the strange magical presence. Hermione didn't particularly like bugs, but her slight entomophobia was forgotten as her gaze lowered. The grass beneath her trainers formed abnormally, the blades curling in a peculiar manner. She knelt down, running her hand over the soft curls. Curious. It was most definitely a sign of magic. The phenomenon rang a bell, but she couldn't think of where she had read it.
"Pardon?"
Hermione jumped to her feet and sidled a nearby tree at the sudden voice, her wand poised. Her eyes surveyed the clearing, but paused on a still form in the distance. There, across the clearing, sat a young woman at the base of an odd tree. At the distance Hermione couldn't make the stranger out, but the voice was strikingly feminine.
"Y'a quelqu'un?"
Usually anyone questioning a stranger's presence in a dark forest would sound frightened, or at least nervous, however the young Frenchwoman appeared neither. Her voice was smooth and confident. Hermione leaned a little away from the tree, debating whether to reveal herself. She was on private property. This girl could possibly be related to whoever owned this property or she could be trespassing, just like Hermione. She shouldn't take the risk. Just as the young witch considered leaving the girl across the clearing stood, striding away from her tree.
"Je sais que vous êtes ici. Dois-je chercher pour vous?"
That didn't sound encouraging. Moving would give away her position and the girl appeared rather athletic. Hermione couldn't simply outrun her. She could see the young Frenchwoman clearly now, the stranger having moved to the middle of the meadow. The moonlight shined on light blonde hair, the gold strands flowing gracefully in the slight breeze. Tall and thin, the young woman's bright blue eyes scanned the glade for any disturbance. She wore simple clothing, a light blue hoody with matching sweatpants.
Hermione figured she couldn't very well sneak away while the Frenchwoman was so adamant on locating her. With a sigh of defeat, the young witch pocketed her wand and stepped away from her hiding place. The girl struggled over brushes and vegetation, stepping into full view as those startling blue eyes found Hermione's brown. The young woman took a moment, observing her with an unreadable expression. Hermione wondered if she had chosen wisely while the Frenchwoman's eyes wandered her approaching form.
"Un enfant?"
"I most certainly am not a child!" Hermione responded brashly, heat rushing to her face. "I mean- What I meant to say is- I apologize, I- You don't even know what I'm saying, do you?"
"Zomewhat" the young woman responded in a thick accent, smiling in a way that took Hermione's breath away. Hermione was surprised by her own reaction. Certainly the girl was beautiful, especially when she smiled, however that hardly called for such a response. Hermione regained her bearings, poising herself with coolness and brushing away the flustered thought. "Eenglish, hmm?"
"Yes," Hermione began, watching apprehensively as the woman drew nearer. That smile…"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bother you. I'll just take my leave-"
"Non" The Frenchwoman interrupted, "Zere iz no need. I am" the stranger pondered the correct word for a moment, "interezted as too what you are doing 'ere."
"I was merely taking a walk."
"And a climb?" The blonde smiled knowingly as Hermione's face flushed in embarrassment. "Zere is a gate around zis area."
"So you do own this property" the young witch said in defeat.
"Oui" she held a hand and gestured behind her, "My family's estate iz in zat direction. Ze woods iz ours as well, zo we do not 'ave many visitors. But you 'ave yet to tell me what you zeek." The strange beauty now stood a few feet away, observing Hermione. She didn't know how to respond. How to explain that she was following a strange magic emitting from her family's property- wait- Hermione's eyes wandered down, landing on small white flowers. They followed a predestined line, leading them behind a tree and out of view. The ring of flowers, the curly grass-
"This is a fairy's circle." The Frenchwoman's eyebrows shot up in surprise at the sudden announcement. "That explains the strange aura, the flowers, the curly grass, the unusual behavior of the insects and-" her train of thought was interrupted when a small, feminine giggle escaped the blonde's lips. She watched in confusion as that small giggle erupted into a full on fit, the stranger covering her mouth as her body shook. "And what is so amusing, might I ask?" Hermione exclaimed hotly, bewildered by the reaction.
"Pardon, pardon" the girl attempted to voice through her hand, "you are a very, uh, interezting intruder."
"Not as interesting at the hysterical girl sitting in a fairy circle all alone at night- wait. You- you're the fairy." The blonde smiled in response, tilting her head as she continued to eye the young witch.
"Oui. Why not come clozer, young one? Come," she commanded, offering her hand. Hermione hesitated. From her research fairies were, no matter what subspecies, notorious tricksters. Her thoughts of suspicion went unheeded however. Before she could halt her movements her fingers brushed against the palm of the mysterious fairy. Hermione marveled at the skin, so soft to the touch. Her hand was engulfed by the young Frenchwoman's and she began leading Hermione further into the fairy circle.
"W-what kind of a fairy are you?" She felt foolish for stammering, but if the blonde noticed she didn't give indication.
"I am a Veela. One-fourz, but Veela all ze same."
"Veela? I've never heard of them."
"Oui. Veela are, 'ow do you say, zecretive." They settled on the other side of the glade, near where the young Veela was situated before. Without warned the young witch was pulled into the Frenchwoman, a hand ensnaring her waist, the other still holding her own hand hostage.
"What are you doing?" Hermione exclaimed, startled as the Veela began swaying.
"Do Eenglish girls not dance?" The question was playful but Hermione huffed, as if insulted.
"Yes English girls dance, however hardly with strange Veela who have yet to properly introduce themselves." Despite her claim she couldn't help swaying as well, following the taller girl's lead. It was unlike her to simply let things be. Her ever inquisitive mind never halted in analyzing every aspect of a situation. It had saved her life at times, but for some reason Hermione simply allowed the dance. It was fun, friendly and spontaneous, much like her current company. If only she could get rid of that smirk…
"Per'aps ze intruder should introduze 'erself, hmm?" Hermione just released another "humph!", turning her head away from the blonde. The only response she received was another musical laugh. "My name iz Fleur." She looked up into those blue eyes, taking in the information in a moment of silence before responding,
"Hermione. My name is Hermione."
"Zat is beautiful" Fleur smiled before scrunching her nose, "very Eenglish…but beautiful." In that moment everything stopped. The swaying, the speaking, even the fireflies seemed to disappear. Hermione merely stared at this beautiful, odd girl. She felt no shame in her stare, no awkwardness in their close, stilled embrace. Her only instinct at that moment was absorbing as much information on the Frenchwoman before her. Her high cheekbones, her heart shaped lips, her small curved nose, the way her dimples formed at her smile, the way her hair parted around her face - every detail she could memorize Hermione made note. The blonde's thin neck, her defined collarbone, the light blue hoody she wore, even the girl's scent that reminded the young witch of roses. Something about this girl, this mysterious Veela, intrigued her. Hermione had never felt so drawn to a single person before. She wanted to ask so many questions: about the strange magic, the fairy circle, who her family was, what she was doing here alone, what being a Veela meant, why her face was suddenly so close-
"What time is it?" Fleur halted her movements, startled by the sudden question. What time was it? Through all of her questions, that was the one that escaped her lips. Hermione looked at her watch and gasped. It was already eleven. "Oh no. It - it was only nine-thirty-"
"'Ermione?" Fleur spoke her name and Hermione made note of it. How it rolled of the Frenchwoman's tongue, how her accent made it sound so-
"I have to go."
"What?"
"I have to" she backed away from the blonde, looking around for the direction in which she came, "my parents- oh Merlin, my parents! They must be so worried! I'm sorry, I have to go!" And with that she took off. Fleur called after her but Hermione continued on. She ran through the woods and she felt it - felt the wonderfully strange magic slip away from her - felt Fleur slip away from her. The transition made her feel weary and tired. She made it over the fence and found her bags, sprinting towards the main road. She had almost made it to the hotel when she tripped on the curb. That's where it all began.