"You can barely see the scar now." Hermione checked her neck again in the small handheld mirror. While she wasn't a particularly vain person, wounds came cheap and easy as an Auror. If every single one left a mark, she'd be riddled with them.
She did have some permanent ones, but most of these were covered by her robes.
"I wish I had that problem," Harry joked. He had brought her a change of clothes now that she was being released. Normally she'd have sent him for Muggle clothing, but Hermione had grown comfortable in the wide-skirted, billowing set she bought herself after graduation.
To be honest, they reminded her of Professor Snape's. Snug at the sleeves and shoulders, with a long row of engraved buttons leading down the back. If she got the ones with buttons in the front, then everyone would know who she was emulating.
It was strange and amusing how former students of his unconsciously straightened when she approached him in her black robes of the same cut.
"At least your scar is soul-free now."
"Yeah, but I had to die first."
They shared a smile, and she resisted the same impulse to reach out and rest her hand on his arm.
Not much had changed from yesterday, she still felt a bit sad when the Head Healer left. His visits were strangely short, normally she had Healers pay more attention to their famous charge.
Perhaps it was quite busy.
"Wait here while I get changed." Hermione had been a good girl and stayed in bed since yesterday, only getting up to send off owls and go to the loo. She went there now and pulled off the loose gown and let it pool to the ground.
Harry really did deserve that Head Auror position. He was more of a leader than Baddock, whose toadying up to Malfoy had garnered resentment.
An Auror's first loyalty should be to upholding justice and protecting each other, not playing bureaucratic games in the office.
It took Hermione nearly a minute before she remembered where she was. Pulling on her robes, she reached for the sink before she realized she forgot her wand.
"Harry, can you hand me my wand?" She cracked open the bathroom door and peeked out, even though all her front bits were more than covered.
"Of course." He picked up the forgotten wand from beside the bed and walked to the door, making a show of covering his eyes.
"Give that to me, you arse." She snatched it once he was close enough, and left the door ajar as she turned toward the mirror. "Actually," she said thoughtfully, "can you help me with this?"
She waited, eyes on the mirror until he nudged the door open and stopped in the doorway.
"What do you need?" His eyes swept low on her back, where the row of buttons was left open.
"I haven't done much magic while healing. Can you button up my robe?"
Harry pulled out his own wand, long fingers wrapped loosely about it. An Auror never clenched too tight, it hampered improvisation. "I don't know the spell for it." He admitted after a long moment of looking at her bare skin.
"Just do it by hand, Harry." Hermione made sure her voice was impatient, but she went back to watching him in the mirror intently.
He glanced at her with his brilliant green eyes, and stepped forward. First he brought the edges of the robe together at the bottom of her waist, and swallowed.
His knuckles brushed her bare skin as he went up the line. His expression was focused as he seemed to be watching what he was doing quite closely.
The robe wasn't too tight, but she felt like she couldn't draw in a deep breath. In all the times they spent together where either one of them was wearing much less, he hadn't ever looked at her like that.
To be fair, she hadn't watched him like this either. Each accidental touch of skin sent a wave of awareness over her.
"Finished." His voice was far more quiet and breathless than it had any right to be, and she bit her lip hard.
"I really need to leave," she said rather desperately, moving past him quickly after she grabbed her wand.
"I should go too," Harry sounded just as awkward and lingering as her, stopping before he even left the bathroom. That was most definitely for the best.
Hermione pulled on her flat-heeled boots and went to the desk of the Healer on duty. By the time she had signed everything and returned to check if she left anything, Harry was gone.
It was both disappointing and a relief.
There was one certain thought in her head right now; she had to get to Flourish and Botts. The Ministry could wait another day.
"Do you have an useful section on Veela's?" Hermione held up one luridly scarlet book titled Thirst for Love, Veela in London Series as she called to the wizard stocking the shelves.
"That's all we have right there." He pointed to the shelf she was in front of, with its pitiful five book section with the label Veela above it.
"There are most certainly not the type of book I'm looking for." Hermione snapped, picking up another one and reading out loud. "The Wizard Hunt, Veela in London 2."
The worker put on a patently falsely patient smile. "We have our catalogue."
Hermione groaned internally. Their unbelievably thick catalogue could take days to search. A normally pleasurable activity for her, but not when she needed something sooner than later.
"No, thank you."
Once again she missed having access to the Hogwarts library. At least she hadn't taken it for granted at the time, but there hadn't been much of a reason to research Veelas.
She walked out and headed up to the Owling Post Office. She could have simply head home to send an owl, but she had several more errands planned.
"One letter, please."
The older wizard passed another a simple quill and parchment her way after recognizing her.
Fleur,
I'm sorry to bother you, but you wouldn't happen to have any books on Veelas? If not, what do you know about the effects of a Veela attacks?"
Hermione
She really hoped the former Triwizard champion would not tell the other Weasley's about her request.
Fleur wasn't mean, she was simply the type to flip her hair over one shoulder and speak without thinking. As an afterthought, she added This is just between you and me to the end.
Bill being in the know was acceptable, of course, and expected. She would die if the answer was embarrassing and the twins caught wind of it.
Hermione ordered standard delivery times, paid the fare, and handed him the charmed envelope.
On the plus side, the Auror she rescued was doing quite well. He had stopped in her room for a brief time to thank her profusely, and walked out of the hospital a whole day and a half before she could.
She puttered around Diagon Alley, ordering several ingredients from Jigger's and looked at robes at Madame Malkin's.
She didn't often head there, especially once she found several styles that fit her self-imposed budget. Ron jokingly called her long-sleeved, high-buttoned up the back choices austere. Harry admitted he thought of Snape...normally. Clearly he didn't now.
Hermione groaned to herself, reminding her to think of something else.
Malkin suggested several lighter robes for warmer weather, and Hermione found herself touching the soft fabrics. They were most certainly out of her price range.
It wasn't by necessity, but preference that she not spend too much money on clothes. Her Auror robes served as work clothes, so her wardrobe was allowed to be sparse and, well, austere.
If she wasn't going to buy anything, she had little to do now but to head back to her flat. She Apparated to her self-designed spot, and walked through the Muggle dominated neighborhood.
The wards on her front door were undisturbed and whole, and she sent a complicated wandless spell to unlock it.
Her flat was dark and empty, everything in its place except Crookshanks. He wound around her ankles immediately, meowing loudly as if his bowls weren't spelled to remain full.
"I missed you too," she sighed, reaching down to scritch behind his ears. She scanned through her mail on the mantle, scowling at the lack of Ministry envelopes.
Malfoy was going to make her go in to deal with this, wasn't he? A shiver of heat ran down her spine at the thought, which she told herself was anger.
The oddity of her...time with Harry earlier had almost faded in the back of her mind, especially since she hadn't encountered the same problem with any other wizard she spoke with during her errands.
An aberration brought on by ending up in St. Mungo's for the third time this year. And, if she were going to be brutally honest, she hadn't exactly been jumping back on the broomstick of dating life since her last fizzled relationship.
It was definitely a mistake to date someone at the Ministry, but since it wasn't another Auror she had thought the end wouldn't be so bad.
The nasty rumours didn't stop until Harry threatened to Body-Bind the git while Hermione had a crack at him.
No, no thinking about wizards.
She didn't receive word back until after dinner.
Hermione,
I heard about what happened! Mr. Weasley heard it from Molly, who overheard Ron and Ginny speaking of it. C'est terrible!
Feel free to visit the Shell Cottage at your earliest convenience.
Amicalement,
Fleur
Hermione grabbed her biggest throw pillow and vented her frustration into it loudly and colorfully.
Hermione waited until after breakfast before grabbing a handful of Floo powder and making a call to the Shell Cottage.
After the war she had only been once, as most events and birthday celebrations were held at The Burrow.
Fleur answered the Floo call, looking quite fetching in an icy lavender robe and her hair a pale sheath of silk. "'ermione!" She smiled happily. "Come through, come through. 'ave you 'ad breakfast yet?"
"Yes, thank you. I'll be right over." She pulled her head out of the green flames and stepped through.
Accepting a light hug, she let herself be ushered to the kitchen table for tea and fussing over her. It was rather sweet, Fleur heard she was at St. Mungo's for a day and wouldn't let Hermione prepare her own tea.
"Thank you." She sipped the hot brew, no sugar, a trickle of milk. "I hope I'm not imposing too much."
"Not at all. Victoire is at 'er cousin's, so nice." The kitchen, and the sitting room Hermione arrived in, were spotless. Not a speck of dust, and no sign of a small child living there.
"That does sound nice." Hoping that this covered the bases of small talk, she ventured, "I don't suppose you'd know much about the effects of a Veela attack?"
Fleur sighed, leaning her cheek on her palm whimsically. "Not much. 'owever, Gabrielle and I 'ave spoken much on our early lives. She is an adult now, you know. I know I was always, eh, looking at boys, and they looked at me.I was 'opelessly smitten with Viktor Krum, but he never paid me any attention."
Hermione smiled politely, sipping her tea. She hadn't thought of Viktor in years...though there was a time when her friends liked to update her on his Quidditch career.
"I never liked boys much if they weren't special. I was very drawn to certain ones. Gabriella did not marry young, and she struggles."
Hermione perked up a little, drawing in a breath to ask about that.
"Struggle, is that the right word?" Fleur kept going, twirling several locks around her fingers. She also did not wait for an answer. "She wanted to wait for the perfect man."
Hermione hadn't given a great deal to dating lately, but she knew there was no such thing as the perfect man. "What do-"
"I keep telling her, she 'as sights too 'igh. It really is about who is, well, just right for you."
"What-was-the-struggle?!" She blurted out, seizing upon the moment Fleur breathed.
The lovely woman blinked. "Oh! She wants them all, the good ones."
Her heart sunk. Running around with indiscriminate hormones sounded terrible.
"I tell her, until she decides…" She gave a careless shrug. "I 'ad many choices before Bill. But he was so 'andsome, and the only man in Gringotts, you know. Very powerful." She sighed happily, staring off.
"It goes away, wanting them all?" It was the only hope Hermione had right now.
"It is tempting, to be single." Fleur continued, tapping her own cheek. "Veela, you know they take where there is want. I thought about using it to win the Triwizard Cup, but that would not be fair."
"Take? What do they take?" That didn't sound good.
"The...malheureuse? Indomptable? Ardente?"
"Ardent? Like passion?"
Fleur snapped her fingers and smiled. "Yes! But passion, it is also sweet, no? Veelas make and take the wrong passion. They absorb not love, but hunger."
Hermione wished Fleur, who spoke English better than ever, could explain it in native terms. However, that would be rude, especially after Fleur was so open about her heritage.
"Did Gabrielle end up finding her person?"
Fleur made a so-so motion with one hand, with a pretty grimace. "I think she is very fond of zat-that power." Her expression cleared, and she smiled. "But this is Veela blood. I am sure you will be fine, 'ermione. You 'aven't 'ad any problems?"
Hermione shook her head slowly. "No...no. I was just curious."
She drained the rest of her tea. For a 'confirmed bachelorette', as Witch Weekly had dubbed her several months ago, she had to find another way around this.
Author's Notes:
Poor Boy-Who-Lived, who is next?
Thank you for the lovely offerings in the review jar! You are all so awesome, and there will be another update soon!