A/N So, I was meant to go to a New Year's Eve party last night but then plans changed and I ended up being the epitome of Irish stereotype with my Guinness. I worked through the night to bring ye' this chapter so if it's crap well.. Anyhow I am looking for a beta if anyone is interested in much improving this through both grammar and the like and quality of writing. (I'd offer cookies but I'm in rather short supply). Enjoy if you can. If not, I can easily recommend a number of brilliant authors for this pairing as well as others. Cheers guys, happy New Year and all that craic, 'til next time.

Chapter Three: Celebration of sorts

"What-?"

"Come now Fleur, you are supposed to be Veela. Or don't you know your mate when you see them?" She watched her mother curl, her lip in frustration and – judging by the look in her eyes- disgust. It might have been comical, how wide her eye's got, were it not for the seriousness of the matter.

Her mate? She had found her mate? It was a rarity for such a thing to occur at her age. Her excitement and intellectual interest quickly vanished in the face of understanding. Fleur's stomach turned as she understood, turning to face the girl where she knelt, held by two of the mated. It didn't escape her notice that they were a human pair. Of course they were, she reprimanded herself mentally.

Fleur's attention was commanded once more as her mother circled the girl and drew back her head by the hair.

"You know what must be done!" The exclamation so cold and impersonal, yet commanding.

Once more her eye's widened, this time in fear. True she had seen the way the mates were treated, so often she had joined in, yet when faced with her own..

"Fleur!" She was snapped out of her thoughts by her mother barking her name.

"You know what you must do. She is both.." at this Apolline paused momentarily, disgust causing bile to rise at the very thought, "magical and beast."

At this Fleur froze, breath hitched. She knew what this meant, it was required that the girl be branded clearly, her mother would settle short for nothing less. However there was an interruption as her grandmother stepped forward, to speak in hushed tones to her daughter.

Apolline's countenance darkened as a scowl twisted itself onto her face by what she had heard. Not only was another standing for the child and the mate untouchable due to her expecting, but there was also a prophecy. She snapped her head around to face her mother, whose eye's coolly observed her. She had no choice. Yet her eye's narrowed in thought, a cruel smile curling her lips upward, even as she grew to despise the little beast still more.

She nodded in reverence and her mother backed away.

Fleur watched as her mother cleared her throat. The small hairs on the back of her neck bristled at her expression. Turning to one of the mates holding the girl she nodded, "her hand."

Even at the revelation of Hermione's dual nature not a stir occurred, yet at this declaration, a great wave of unease went through the room. Apolline fixed her daughter in her gaze before magicking a brand into her hand.

In hindsight, she should have seen this coming. The past two days lessons' had revolved around the culture of mates in the Delacour clan.

"Now Fleur."

There was no room to manoeuvre, she had to do it. Stepping forward she started to chant even as the others hummed lowly, every step forward, every second that passed, the pace sped up and the volume increased. As she drew closer a surge of magic passed through her, causing a cold sweat and the brand to glow in her grasp.

As the song reached its crescendo, Hermione met her gaze just as Fleur stepped forward to complete it. Hand shaking she carefully applied it to the girl's hand, in the spot she felt would most easily be hidden. Her mother glared, as the three backed away from the girl, leaving the two together. Hermione crumpled to her knees even as the magic ensured eye contact remained. The pain could be seen in the other girls' eyes just before they went emotionally blank.

Fleur reached around and held her angel as she sealed the magic's hold on her mate.

…

Fleur woke with a start, bolting upright. She took deep breaths trying to get her heartrate to slow, as she combed slim fingers through her hair.

It had been two and a half years since that day. Still the sight of Hermione closing herself off, haunted her sleeping hours.

Since then, every encounter had been tense and fragile between them. Sometimes moments were electric and others merely awkward. Every time left her more frustrated though, as she struggled to connect with the sweet girl, her Veela had recognised as its mate.

Tradition dictated that she choose the wardrobe for her mate, at least until the two were fully bonded, at which point she would take the uniform of the area in which she would serve in the Delacour mansion, when not personally attending to Fleur. In a reminder of their first encounter and her feelings for the girl, she gifted her clothes that she felt suited her mate.

The only things she was forbidden by custom, were shoes. In accordance with this, every outfit the girl possessed, consisted of jeans, shirts, waistcoats and plain socks.

Understanding the need for the bonding and accepting it, were two different things. It would take several years, in the company of predominately Veela of her own age, before she would fully learn how she was expected to behave.

Fleur showered and dressed in a soft blouse and skirt. She knew it would contrast strongly to the present that she would today give to Hermione for the Yule celebration. Excitedly she brushed out her silver-blonde hair until it sat in a silky sheet atop her head and across her shoulders. Tonight would be their first night as a bonded pair even though it would be a while before it was completed.

The second Yule after meeting was the set date after which a Veela and their mate would reside together. It was written in their laws, though such a thing hadn't been recorded since the conception of the Delacour clan. Not at their age. Nevertheless, it would be so.

Now more than ever.

Fleur stood tall as she examined her reflection on her cupboard door, before spraying her favourite bottle of perfume so that she lightly smelled of vanilla.

Carefully she clutched the Yule parcel for her mate, to her chest as she walked to the kitchen where her morning tea had already been prepared. A refreshing concoction of weak tea, poured over ice, with the juice of a lemon. Just the way she liked it.

Fleur knew that Hermione had made it, as she was the one to first give it to the girl. Since then it had been her favourite drink, much like the fragrance she favoured.

Although she was not entirely oblivious to the going ons of the household, or the general treatment of the mates, she was still naïve and unaware of the extent to which they served, as she wondered where her mate currently was.

…

Hermione's eyes were closed, her brow furrowed. Had it been seen out of context one may have simply assumed that she were deep in thought. That was common enough for the young girl after all. However the grimace that followed betrayed her.

The sharp sting of the lash prevented any thought beyond the blinding pain that she experienced. At least it's getting easier to bear. She nearly laughed at this notion, would have done too except for the fact that a blow landed at that exact moment, knowing the air out of her in an almost gasp. She choked back the sound as best she could and opened her eyes. Consciously she softened her gaze although she kept up the barriers that wouldn't allow Apolline the satisfaction of seeing how she felt and meting out more lashes for it.

What has Fleur gotten herself into this time? Inwardly she felt for the girl but that was buried under feelings of annoyance, hurt and anger. Hermione could see the spark in her mate's mother's eyes. The glint that hinted at displeasure and disgust. As though it were Hermione's fault the floor was being sullied and not her daughter's. Although, she mused, that could be part of it too couldn't it.

All of a sudden the punishment stopped and she was left hanging as the Veela rounded her dropping the whip to the floor between herself and Apolline, bowing respectfully on her way out. Apolline gave a curt nod, seemingly transfixed on the girl. She had learned to guard herself from the invasive gaze.

"Until the next time Hermione." With that she turned on her heel and left. No more was said. No more was required.

Hermione braced herself. She could never be sure when it would happen. This time it was when the door fully closed. Although prepared she was still surprised that it was so short. Apolline must have been a loose cannon before if this didn't relieve her tension. Then again, that she didn't trust herself to deal with her was telling in itself.

Immediately she rose to her feet from where she had collapsed to her knees on the concrete. Waving her hand in a sweeping motion the floor was cleaned. She removed her shirt and incanted two spells, one after another, "Scourgify! Reparo!"

Sadly she smiled at the garment before slipping it back over her head. It had been a present.. from Fleur. At this thought her blood began to boil. Why would she continue causing trouble knowing what it did to her? Did she not care at all? She shook her head to clear it. Now was not the time.

She stood straighter before cleaning her slacks. Nothing would ruin this day for Gaby.

…

Ducat smiled upon sensing Hermione's arrival into the work room. The worry turned to tender care. She knew of what the girl had endured although she herself had never been quite as unfortunate. Looking up, the sight caused her chest to swell with pride and sadness. She had grown so much her intellect along with her emotions and physical being gave her the impression of a rather short woman who had seen all of life's miseries and not enough positives.

What was worse she couldn't tell her anything that she wasn't permitted. The bond ensured that. Her mate could only do so much. Her stomach did a half-hearted flip when she thought of Cécile.

Hermione's countenance brightened upon seeing her pseudo-mother and godchild.

Gabrielle having spent so much time with her Tante had picked up her intelligence and love of knowledge. Noticing the change in her Maman she leapt off her lap and took a running jump at Hermione who caught her laughing. She swung her in a circle before cradling her to her chest and pressing a kiss into her fair locks. So much like.. but no I musn't think of that, of her- she cut herself off rapidly.

Gently she lowered herself to the ground and drew back from the two year olds embrace. "Now my darling Gaby, I do believe I have forgotten something very important can you think what it is," Hermione proceeded to screw up her face in mock thought.

Her goddaughter giggled in that adorable toddler way. "Birthday!" Recently having heard a number of English stories she had retained this one word affectionately. Hermione returned her laughter.

Ducat transfigured a small coffee table out of an empty bucket she had strategically placed in the room before bed the previous night. She summoned a smile light show to keep her angel amused. It changed between a spontaneous firework-esque display and happy birthday.

Together the three enjoyed an orange cake and each other's company. While it lasted it was perfect. Unfortunately good fortune is a double edged sword.

…

Water splashed everywhere as the cloth fell from Ducat's trembling hand into the basin of water and antiseptic. At this stage she didn't think anything could surprise her but the web that criss-crossed her young charges back told a story that made her wish she hadn't devoured so many sweet treats, or at the very least had given more to the girl.

What she saw was downright vicious and she couldn't understand the reasoning behind it. Never before had they been so brutal. It made her quake and all colour drain from her features as she broke out in a cold sweat. It didn't bear thinking about. Grimacing she fished the cloth from the warm water before wringing it out thoroughly.

She allowed her mind to drift back to when she first introduced the girl to her daughter.

…

It seemed the kitchen was a magnet for the unlikely pair.

One day Hermione went to take her breakfast, the next a familiar form stood resting against the same counter she had first seen. A sense of déjà vu and melancholy washed over the young girl. Much too intense for a child at that age. A creased brow greeted her across the kitchen.

Ducat noticed the girl. Subconsciously a smile crept across her features. Gently she turned to set down the mixing bowl behind her. The food could wait, she had a daughter to attend to. At this her hand in a knee-jerk reaction to the thought protectively lay on her belly. Having caught herself in time, Ducat made a motion as though ironing out the creases in her well- worn uniform and picking off imaginary lint. She extended her arms to the child, that brilliant, beautiful girl.

Hermione threw caution to the wind. Although her curiosity demanded an explanation and logic dictated that the woman was still a stranger, a warm and fuzzy feeling overwhelmed the detached nature of intellect to replace it with care and familial love.

The collision almost threw her off balance before small wan arms, strong thought they were it sent a feeling of inadequacy through her. That there was more she could have- should have done for the child.

She nuzzled herself into the warmth of Ducat's comforting embrace. Hermione had missed this simple pleasure.

Ducat withdrew her arms before putting her charge in front of her, close enough to keep contact and far enough to inspect for good health. As Hermione casually brushed her growing bangs back from her eyes, Ducat caught sight of the one thing she had dreaded and knew her mate hadn't power over. There, wrapped around her thumb, above her wrist, in a spot damn near impossible to hide was the mark. This cemented the girl's fate. No more would there be any opportunity for her to leave mated or not. It was binding. Similar in nature to a contract, although not many are burned into their skin.

Ducat's biggest concern was the positioning of the mark. Appoline Delacour was leaving nothing to chance. The stylised Gothic 'D' that symbolised ownership of a Veela from the Delacour clan had been placed so that all would know what she was. Never before had Ducat seen one so blatantly displayed before. The ramifications it would have- it didn't bear thinking of.

"Come child, help me to finish the food and then we can talk," with voice cracking and rough from disuse she successfully postponed what would be a very unpleasant conversation.

…

Of course that only lasted so long (two days) before she was forced into conceding to the child. In the relative safety of her chambers she introduced her lion to her angel, her little Gabrielle. Thankfully, with the dominant Veela gene- despite blonde hair and blue eyes being recessive- she, like all daughters born to a Veela shared in the heritage. At times Ducat found it ironic that none of these features were found in the mates to the Delacour clan. As though to encourage the idea that opposites attract.

She brushed her own walnut bangs back as she spoke with Hermione quietly while tending to her latest baby. As hazel eyes changed between brown and green boring into chocolate brown eyes she found a vulnerability that caused her breath to catch in her chest. Glancing down once more at the now slumbering young life cradled in her arms she knew what she should, could and would do. For the first time in a long while, they all happened to be the same thing.

…

Had Hermione not been deep in thought, perhaps she would have heard the warning sign that signalled she ought to prepare for something big. Right then however her focus was captivated by thoughts of Fleur. It perplexed her. Any occasion she had been with the girl she had been nothing short of sweet. Even letting her into her bed when she was little better than the very urchins she herself had once cursed.

Granted it had got her into trouble but she found it hard to believe that she did so on purpose. Would she? Herein lay the dilemma. Time and time again it was Fleur that seemed to be both her saviour and torment. This state of constant fluctuation, neither yielding more than the other reminded her of stories she had read of purgatory. Internally she chastised herself for being silly.

With a wince Hermione found herself jerked from her thoughts. Quickly she found herself gritting her teeth in order not to allow another sound to pass her lips. Instead she thought of sweet Gabrielle who had only just been settled in for an afternoon nap. To help herself through the cleaning routine that she was now overly acquainted with she pretended that the toddler was sleeping in Ducat's bed behind her. If she knew what happened.. it would damage her irreversibly. This in mind she set her jaw and locked her eyes on a peeling corner of wallpaper. Unconsciously, it happened to be the same distraction that her mentor had found when she was in turmoil of her own.

Ducat set to her task with vigour and firmness. Although it was not her intention to bring further harm to the girl, it was essential that she could get at the wounds to ascertain the level of their severity and the risk of infection present. A grimace set itself upon her face once more when her back was clean and the damage exposed. They were deep although thankfully they had stopped bleeding. A little dittany would have done the job. Unfortunately it was strictly forbidden to tend to injuries beyond muggle means.

Biting her lip she cast her eyes around and checked to see if Hermione was responsive with another quick swipe. The girl didn't even flinch. Her brow creased at this however she didn't wait any longer. From a pocket within her dress she drew out a bottle and added three drops to the water. This way, she reasoned, it will take the worst out of it and when fully healed will only leave light scarring. It will be less suspicious than if applied undiluted.

Hermione was drawn out of her thoughts by the returning of the stinging sensation as Ducat tended to her. Her back tensed. Maybe it hurt more because there was no protection from the direct contact? She found herself unable to relax from her stiffened state. Thankfully it wasn't long before it stopped once more, replaced by a cool soothing sensation.

After swiping with the cloth so as to apply the healing essence evenly and thinly she set it down to replace it with a salve. This she spread generously. The effects were immediately noticeable. The heat had been removed from her young charges skin and once more she was pliant beneath her gentle ministrations. To finish off she wrapped gauze around to keep the dressings in place.

Noticing the cessation of Ducat's actions Hermione quickly drew her shirt over her head, a burst of air the only indication of the discomfort she was in.

A sad smile graced Ducat's features when the girl turned to face her impassive. "Come, there is much to do, but for now, we must meet with the rest of the mates. It is time to face our Veela."

…

Fleur cordially greeted the others as they gathered in the large dining hall before the fire and the tree. The table had, for the time being, been removed from the room to allow for the congregation.

She caught the eye of her mother who nodded approvingly in her direction before turning back to face the doors. All conversation quieted as the bells rang through the corridors to signal the opening of the doors and the entrance of the Veela's respective mates. On the twelfth toll, the great heavy oak, swung open and the mates proceeded forward by rank.

This meant that those who were human and only human led the formation, in order of importance and age of their mates.

Although Fleur knew that Hermione would enter with the others and that she would be the last, as she had the year before, she couldn't help tossing her head and shuffling from foot to foot in anticipation and nervousness. When her mate finally stepped forward through the masses to where she stood by the tree, she clenched and unclenched her fists in rapid succession. It wouldn't do for her to gather the girl, her warrior, into the embrace that she so dearly wished at that moment.

It made her appear rather aloof as she stood there stoically, uncertain.

…

Hermione bowed deeply, breaking eye contact. She couldn't keep looking into those deep blue eyes or she would lose herself entirely. Not to mention, she was sure that the others were keeping their eye's on her and the way she conducted herself in the interactions with Fleur.

Once she straightened, her breath hitched as she caught the emotion in the beauty's eyes. Inside her a battle took place as she fumed at the injustice of it and false pretenses, even as, what she had been told was her beast, snarled back at her for thinking so little of it's mate.

For a reason unknown to her rational mind, it insisted she give the girl the benefit of the doubt.

…

Fleur barely caught the flash of yellow as Hermione's inner beast showed itself. Although many would fear this, it was exactly what she needed to finally relax in the girls' presence. It also prepared her for the warm embrace she received.

Despite her age, Hermione was slightly taller than her, although it slightly annoyed her human side, the Veela was quite content to bury itself in her developing chest. Fleur inhaled deeply and indulged herself by remaining in the embrace for several moments, before drawing away. Much as she wanted to remain there, she knew that there would be time yet and that now wasn't it.

Carefully she drew herself back nuzzling the younger girl one final time, before pulling away completely. The calm that radiated from their exchange, gave her the strength to gesture for the two to sit.

When they were seated, she presented her mate with her gift, for this was the manner in which the Yule always took place.

She watched as the girl unwrapped her gift, carefully but swiftly, to reveal the contents within.

As it was to be their first time to stay together, it would also be their first appearance on the dance floor at the ball after the dinner. While all Veela of the clan young and old, attended the dinner, only those who had reached the age of Veela maturity were permitted to attend the ball and only those who had been mated were permitted to dance. In fact it was a requirement.

Fleur watched the surprise on her mate's face at the clothes that she had been given. First came a new pair of pressed and starched slacks and matching waistcoat in a light grey. These were followed by a crisp white shirt, vest, boxers and grey socks. Perhaps most shocking (or so she judged by the disappearance of her angel's eyebrows into her hairline), were the polished black shoes and fine black leather gloves.

Really she had expected it. After all, the quality of the clothing was very high and the shoes and gloves under any other circumstance would be entirely forbidden. However Hermione couldn't hide the sparkle of joy that dance in her eyes'. Not from the one who held her so dearly.

The rest of the products for the night's preparation, would make themselves known in her mate's room after the gathering broke up, much the same as her mate's selection for Fleur herself.

Her gaze was keen as the girl carefully placed the clothing to one side before rocking forward to bring herself closer to Fleur. She raised a brow at Hermione's grasp above her head. She was somewhat surprised by the presentation of her own gift. Something she would admit, quite readily, to having forgotten.

Fleur opened it with the same curiosity and reverence that, she had observed.

When the wrapping had been removed, she opened the box to find a dress of shimmering blue, that set off her eyes, paired with silver slippers and a beautiful slide set that boasted an ornate blue flower. A smile quirked as she released a small laugh.

…

Hermione observed, content, as her Veela's eye's danced in happiness and face became alight with amusement at her gift. Internally her beast made its happiness known. Unfortunately it was then that the second ringing of the bells, went out for the breaking of the assembly.

…

Fleur was somewhat surprised when Hermione stood first before offering her a hand to stand. The last time she had shown such affection and caring had been their first meeting. It surprised her even more when she was drawn in closer. Her heart skipped a beat as the girl's lips brushed her earlobe, "A flower for my flower."

Were it anyone else, her pride would have demanded she scold and deal with them. But as it was her mate, she merely blushed and smiled back coyly when she heard the small laugh that Hermione let out under her breath.

Unfortunately, it was then that Fleur caught her mother's gaze again. When she froze the other girl sensing the tension drew away. Once more Hermione dipped into a bow before turning on her heel and leaving the room.

…

Hermione caught Apolline's glare, fire and defiance burned as she fiercely returned it. She acknowledged the woman with only a tilt of the head, before straightening to her full height and leaving the room in the tide of other mates.

…

Marguerite clutched tightly to the hand of her rock, her Denise. It pained her to see the exchange between her daughter and the little one.

Her mate, sensing her distress, blocked the view and captured her in a sweet kiss. The sparkle that never died in the willow brunette's, moss green eye's gave her the strength to stay resolved.

Margo allowed a look to pass between them, one that conveyed more than she could say, due to the change of times.

Sometimes she wondered if Apolline really was her daughter. Her ambition and desire for power neglected to allow her compassion. Surely she had raised her better.

Her brow furrowed. Either way something had to be done and much as she regretted the necessity of her actions, she knew just what to do.

In place of a sigh, she pressed a chaste kiss to her partner's forehead. Desperate times called for desperate measures and she would not allow one to ruin everything for all.