Let's see where this shit goes.
Reviews would totally help, just sayin'.
People tend to forget how much blood is stored inside their bodies until they see someone bleeding profusely. The amount of the red liquid seeping from her fiancée was devastating. Hermione Granger was deeply wounded at the time, lying in a dark pool of her own origin. Fleur Delacour, of course, blamed herself for it all. She knew Fenrir Greyback had an unfortunate "thing" for the Muggle-born and even though she took certain measures to protect her loved one, there was nothing she could do to prevent this.
After the initial chaos in getting Hermione to a safer location, the blonde stood frozen at the doorway for what felt like hours, her crystal eyes on Hermione's limp form. It was hard to even distinguish the nineteen year old. There were bandages all along her face and chest, keeping as much of her remaining blood in. Ignoring the hand of Molly Weasley on her shoulder, she surged forward, grabbing a bottle of Dittany, her face hard with determination to do something for her.
Pushing aside Poppy Pomfrey, she immediately began to apply the potion to her lover's wounds. She tried to keep her face composed as she moved to run her fingertips underneath the bandages and along jagged scars. However, she began to struggle to stay calm, her knees threatening to buckle, her hand shaking as she attempted to help Hermione. As soon as she touched the slashed flesh, she felt a jolt of burning electricity race through her hand and up her arm, causing her to flinch back and away from the injured girl.
Fleur stared down at her hand in confusion as a low rumble emanated from her chest. It was almost like a… hiss.
Remus Lupin chose then to make his entrance, forcing himself through the previously barricaded doors and in between the two girls. However, he did not physically remove Fleur, taking great care not to touch her. "You can't touch Hermione." He tried to explain as calmly as he could, his panicked eyes locked on icy blues.
These words infuriated the blonde, causing an intense possessiveness to overcome her. How dare he! Hermione was hers. She would be the one to help her, not him! He would not lay a finger on her, not now, not ever.
These protective feelings quickly turned into utter rage, her emotions already tried from the day's tragedies, causing a temper tantrum to be inevitable. The crackling of a roaring fire sounded in the air, and many of the occupants of the room started to duck for cover, knowing full well that a Veela was capable of hurling fireballs when angry.
It took Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, to stop her from doing anything rash (such as viciously mauling the man before her). He ran towards his friend, practically throwing himself at her, snaking strong arms around her waist to hold her back.
"Fleur! It's okay! Think of Hermione! She could get hurt!"
He had to shout into her ear because she was so absorbed in her own thoughts of fury. Her eyes widened in surprise and she made a small sound of distress in the back of her throat before hunching over. Harry slowly released his grip, moving to softly embrace her instead. His matted hair pressed against her forehead, for they were nearly the same height, as he lightly stroked her back in a calming manner.
Ginny Weasley huffed, having never liked Fleur, nor appreciating how her boyfriend was acting. It was then when she took the chance to observe Lupin. He had had his teeth barred and claws extended, growling furiously at the Veela. One hand was protectively over Hermione's form, guarding her from her own lover.
"Remus… What's going on?"
The sound of Nymphadora Tonks' (well, Lupin now) voice seemed to bring him back to his usual self. He shook his head a few times to clear his mind and took some deep breaths before he shot his wife an apologetic smile. "It's fine."
Tonks frowned, her hair shifting to ebony as she made her way to Hermione. One look at the girl made her tense up. "…Remus…"
The werewolf nodded at her before glancing at Fleur. She stood stiffly, half-heartedly returning Harry's hug, even though her eyes were on Hermione, her lips pursed as she observed her.
"Fleur, we need to talk."
She gave him a wary look, not trusting him due to their actions a few minutes prior. But she agreed to hear him out regardless, for it more than likely had to do with Hermione.
"Hermione was attacked by a Werewolf…" He began, testing the waters with an obvious statement. "Therefore she will retain many of their qualities. By the looks of her injuries, it will be as though she is a half-breed."
Fleur opened her mouth to ask the question on everyone's minds before he interrupted her. "No, she will not be able to transform. However, this will cause her great pain. Both transforming and not being able to transform leaves the person in complete agony."
Being the strong woman that she was, the witch refused to submit to grief. She simply nodded at him to continue, knowing there would be more.
"Did you by any chance touch her?" He questioned, his look serious.
"Oui, I did. Why does zis matter?" She crossed her arms firmly as she met his look with a more aggravated one.
"Did it hurt when you did?"
She held back a startled look, for she was too proud to admit such a weakness. But how did he know that?
"…Oui." She reluctantly responded. That was personal business, and while she wasn't comfortable disclosing it, if it would clear things up, then she would let him know.
"As I thought… " He mumbled to himself for a moment, trying to decide how he should share this piece of information. Lupin then looked at her once more, a resigned expression on his haggard face.
"Fleur. Veela and Werewolves are natural enemies."
The two stared at each other for a long moment; Fleur's face a blank. "So zis means zat-"
"Fleur..?" A groggy voice whimpered, causing everyone to turn to the lone hospital bed. Hermione tried to sit up, but winced in pain and lay on her back once more.
"Mon amour!"
Mrs. Weasley made to go assist Hermione but changed her mind, what with how Fleur reacted earlier. She, Harry, Ginny, Tonks, and Lupin kept a safe distance as the blonde ran up to her lover. Fleur spoke in rushed, yet relieved French as she cupped the girl's face and left feather soft kisses all along her.
Hermione smiled at her fiancée softly before going rigid. There was a peculiar scent in the air. The fragrance was hammering at her senses and she began to tremble, unable to control the shivering. It smelt so good and yet… It irritated her. It was intoxicating and yet it made her head hurt. Brown eyes blinked in surprise at a humming sound in her throat. It took her a few moments to realize she was growling, her teeth clenched as the noise forced itself out.
Fleur inched back the moment the sound reached her ears and her jaw was set as she stared down at Hermione. Veela did not react well to hostility and to any wild creature, a growl was the most belligerent thing one could do without provocation.
"You two should probably sepe-"Lupin tried to speak, but was cut off.
"Non. I will not." Fleur was naturally a very stubborn woman, so she would not budge, even now. Though it stung like a constant itch and caused her to twitch, if only for a second, she held Hermione's hand in her own.
What is wrong with me? Hermione thought as she struggled to maintain control. She ground her teeth together harder as she gave Fleur's hand a small squeeze, trying to keep her body from accomplishing whatever it wanted to do. She was at least glad her fiancée was there.
"Mon amour, zere is somezing I must tell you. I will wait until you are well rested." The blonde bent down and gave her lover a kiss on her bandaged forehead, that which caused the honey haired witch to squirm. The scent was stronger now.
Wait.
It couldn't be.
"Fleur… "She began softly, tentatively. "Are you wearing some kind of perfume? Besides the usual one?" Hermione looked at her curiously, if not with a bit of an apprehensive tone.
Her fiancée tilted her head to the side before answering. "Non."
Lupin was careful not to get too close to Fleur, for the earlier spat had caused the woman to release pheromones, which were quite deadly to humans but only served as a trigger to werewolves. He made his way to the other side of Hermione's bed, his eyes soft as he looked at her. Already, he considered her one of his own and a pack was the strongest of all bonds. "Your sense of smell has intensified. You can smell her natural aroma."
"That's what I thought. Judging from my fight with Fenrir, I'm to guess that my wounds are cursed, right? It's natural that I have some wolfish qualities." She spoke matter-of-factly, with a small nod. Yes, she expected this.
"Not just some…"
He was going to continue, but Fleur looked pissed. She wanted to be the one to tell her girlfriend something so serious. Cupping her face, despite the pain shooting up her arms and the tingling sensation of feathers attempting to uproot, she turned Hermione's head so they were facing each other.
"'ermione, your wounds were very serious. You are nearly…" She spit out this word with disgust, not because it's what her fiancée now was, but because of the numerous times she heard it directed at her. "…a 'alf-breed."
Hermione stared at those cerulean eyes, knowing that she would only find the truth in them. She was nearly a full Werewolf. But that means…
She gasped and her eyes quickly filled with tears.
"No, no that… But we're…"
She had read about this. According to the Monster Book of Monsters, Veela and Werewolves could not live together in the same environment. Both being predators, many issues would arise about prey and mates. More commonly though, Veela have the need to prove they are the more dominant creatures and will sporadically cause fights.
However, whenever a Veela would touch a Werewolf, it would cause them immediate pain. If a Werewolf were ever too close to a Veela, their natural scent would overwhelm them, driving them to madness. They each have natural defense mechanisms to keep from confrontation. Despite this, it is not advisable to have them in the same vicinity, for fights between the two creatures causes intense damage to the surrounding area.
"Listen to me 'ermione." Fleur spoke with such unflinching passion that it commanded her attention. "We will be fine. Zere is nozing zat will ruin our relationship. I promise you zat."
Hermione could only nod, being brought speechless by the conviction in her lover's voice.
"Furzermore, I will not allow Voldemort to get away wiz zis. 'arry, before you defeat 'im, you must allow me to assist you in any way I can."
"No!" Hermione reached out in fear, gripping onto Fleur's sleeve. However selfish it may sound, it was okay for her to go out and risk her life, but not for Fleur to. For a moment, she was slightly overcome by her lover's scent, but she shook her head firmly and looked into Fleur's eyes. "Please don't."
"Mon amour, I'm sorry, but I must."
"Then let me accompany you." She turned, facing Lupin. "Please teach me to control this as much as possible. I won't let this get the best of me, the best of us." She looked up at Fleur and from her position on the bed, reached over and wrapped her arm around the taller girl's waist.
"I doubt there's much help I can give you. But… If what I think is correct… All you'll need to do is mark her."
Both Hermione's and Fleur's noses crinkled up at this. Like, dog marking?
"Oh no!" He responded to their facial expressions. "I mean literally marking her."
Tonks stepped forward then, pulling down her collar to show a claw mark down her arm. Fleur cringed. Veela love their appearances (and its hypnotic powers over their prey) and the mere thought of being marred in any way made the blonde feel repulsed. She was naturally vain, but not in a necessarily bad way. She was comfortable and proud of her looks and apathetic to other people's views of them, unless they were compliments (or she was manipulating them for something).
"I can't hurt Fleur." Was Hermione's immediate response. She could never bring herself to cause her pain like-
She quickly recoiled, freeing her arm from around the Veela as she took in the blonde's expression. "I'm… I'm hurting you, aren't I?" She looked crushed at the revelation.
"It is but a small price to pay. I am fine, ma douce." The Veela entwined their fingers to prove it, even though her arm was burning. She was tough, she would handle it. She needed contact with Hermione. However, she began to worry a bit when the pain settled in her chest like a heavy weight.
"So the best thing they can do is try not to have a fight?" Harry interrupted. "If that's the case, besides hunting for Horcruxes, I'll help make sure you two are okay." At that moment, the two felt such love for Harry. He was a dear friend to them, he always had been. They both gave him appreciative smiles.
"But for now, Hermione should stay elsewhere, at least for a few days." Molly chipped in. She wanted the best for the two, but they really should be apart for a little. No matter how much they might try to persuade her into thinking they would be fine, she could not look past the idea of a Veela and a Werewolf viciously fighting anywhere.
Fleur shot her lover a longing look, both wanting to be close and wanting her opinion on the matter. Hermione frowned, her lip slightly pouting as it always did when she was upset. "That may be best."
Above all, she didn't want to hurt Fleur. But also, she didn't want to lose it. She was already feeling unstable under her fiancée's aroma. It was a pleasant scent, yes; something similar to a garden filled with wildflowers and a personal spice, but it caused something in her to snap. She shook her head, ignoring the pounding headache, and willed herself not to become something else, not right now.
The blonde was watching the inner turmoil play on Hermione's face and she put her hand on her shoulder. "You should rest."
But resting seemed far worse. If she wasn't having nightmares of a lumberjack of a man covered in thick hair, slashing at her with his fierce claws, then she was having very unusual dreams…
Dreams that consisted of her frantically running in search of Fleur.
Only, when she finds her, the blonde hisses and sprouts feathers, speaking in angry, threatening French. Hermione's senses kick into overdrive and she gives a frightening growl, one that scares even herself, one she never knew she was capable of, and right before she pounces on her lover ( much unlike the usual playfulness) she snaps awake, drenched in sweat.
Her eyes were wide; an unusual misty grey instead of their soft chocolate, and her breathing was labored. She clambered out of bed only to hang on to the bed post, gasping in pain, her hand attempting to massage the pounding headache away. But whimper escaped her lips as firm; protective arms encircled her waist, holding her close against an icy body. It caused a pleasurable shiver up her spine.
"Fleur?"
"You 'are on fire, mon amour. Are you okay?"
It was true; Hermione's skin was boiling to her fiancée. She was emitting such blazing natural heat that it was causing her head to spin and her own flesh to burn with fever-like symptoms.
"Werewolves have high temperatures…" She seemed to whisper. It was hard to admit to such a thing. When she was first told of her… deformity, she tried to take it in stride so that they could focus on more important matters (such as how this affects their relationship). But now it was all she could think of.
One moment, she was normal Hermione Granger, soon to be Hermione Delacour, the next… She was attacked by Fenrir Greyback in an attempt to help Harry escape with a Horcrux, which turned out to be fake.
"It is good I am 'ere zen. I can cool you off."
It was true and Hermione appreciated it. But she couldn't take her up on the offer.
"Fleur… I can't. Your scent… My head… It's too much right now."
The French woman's face fell, but she quickly recovered and nodded at the girl. It was different for Hermione. Fleur could force herself to withstand the pain and the phasing, but Hermione's sanity was on the line.
"…It's okay."
Or at least, it's what she would tell herself.