Tell Me Your Secrets

Author: Ladyfun

Rating: M. Why? Because.

Summary: Hermione and Fleur, in the post-war world, find themselves in the unsettling role of colleagues with more than a bit of lingering and forbidden attraction towards one another, despite their obligations to others. One fateful evening, courtesy of the firewhiskey, they admit their repressed secrets and darkest desires, to one another. Problem is, one can't unring a bell, once rung...nor the actions that follow. Angsty Fleurmione!

Disclaimers: I don't own Harry Potter or any of its merchandising- all of this is in wholesome, non-profit fun. Ownership belongs to JK Rowling as everyone in the free world is aware. Will have some kinks in later chapters, disclaimers forthcoming as needed...

A/N: Okay. NSFW. I can't say it any plainer than that.

Chapter 7. No More Lies

The second she left Fleur to board the train (she scored facility train duty on the Hogwarts Express), she felt ill.

That feeling of malaise never went away, fully; as she leaned her head against the window and watched the rolling countryside, she wished she was headed the other direction. The malaise stayed with her, the moment she saw her husband, and only deepened when he gave her an enthusiastic kiss, on platform 9 3/4. He looked proud to have her, as he marshaled her off the platform, acknowledging the many eyes and waves of onlookers admiring 2/3 of the Golden Trio.

Hermione simply felt like she wanted to vomit.

"Gin and Har are waiting for us at the burrow, 'Mione." He said, enthusiastically.

"Hermione." She added, quietly, looking away.

Ron frowned. "Oh, right, sorry!" He sighed. "Well, you okay? Need anything to eat?"

She shook her head, no.

"You're being awfully quiet, dear."

She attempted to muster a smile, feeling simply dead inside. Suffocitating. Is this all there is left, for me? For us? She wondered, panicked. A lifetime of merely enduring one another? Out loud, she merely offered, "I'm sorry. I'm exhausted. This term was harder than I expected it to be."

"That's 'cause you're such a perfectionist! You know, you sometimes need to let things go...you know, maybe not kill yourself so much."

She looked at him, irritated, then simply looked away.

XOXOXOXOXXO

That night, when he touched her, she felt her skin crawl.

No no no! Stop touching me! She thought to herself, with horror. Then, her brain waged war with her heart, as it dutifully reminded her that he was her husband, and this was part of being his wife.

His hand ran up her side, and she did her best not to flinch away. His body slid upward, until he was pressed on top of her, looking at her with his goofy smile, and the beginning of his errection starting to poke at her.

She felt like she was going to be ill. Never had something felt so horribly wrong to her. I a panic, she questioned herself, internally:

Was it because of Fleur? She questioned herself.

She thought long and hard about it, ad realized honestly that no-it actually was not. It wasn't about Fleur or wanting someone besides her husband. With a relieved sadness, she realized it was because of her, Hermione, and no one else.

She wanted more for herself, and she was tired of compromising. Every kiss he gave her, every touch- it meant that she was selling herself short. She was accepting "good enough" out of the fear she could never have better.

Every kiss felt like...disappointment.

It always had.

Hermione realized in that moment, the fear of being alone was far preferable to the feeling of being with the wrong person, and compromising herself.

She pushed him off of her. "Ron...I'm so sorry. I..I can't do this anymore." She rolled of the bed, and he grabbed her by the wrist.

His face held no malice, just genuine concern.

"How long?" He croaked.

She looked down at him gently, then closed her eyes. With a sigh, she said, "A long time, Ron. This has been a long time coming."

"Is there someone else?" He asked quietly.

She could have said many things, but primarily acknowledge she was tired of living the lie. Tired of pretending to love him, when she didn't. Tired of letting the guilt that she should love him outweigh the reality that she didn't. The one thing she didn't do, which she would be very glad for later, was lie about loving him when she loved another fully instead. She was at least honorable in that respect, even though she had an inkling that that may someday occur.

She looked at him thoughtfully. "Yes, Ron, there is...it's me. I'm leaving you, for me."

She was grateful he didn't argue, or rage, or any of the things he could have done. She realized that must have been because, in part, he must have felt this coming as well. Who knows, perhaps he felt a deep relief deep down that she was the one brave enough to do it for them. Either way, he said nothing as she gathered her things and headed for the guest bedroom, and prepared the documentation for the trip she would make to the ministry first thing in the morning.

XOXOXOXO

Feeling better than she had in years, Hermione apparated back to outside Hogwarts immediately after the ministry. Even if she floo'ed back to the train station on Monday if they needed her still as a chaperone, she didn't care. That was far preferable to remaining there one more day in the stilted silence they shared, now a separated couple, awaiting the final divorce. She walked back to the gates of Hogwarts, feeling unsettled, but light of heart.

She stopped by the Headmistresses' office first, and informed Minerva in the most minimalist way of what happened. Her former mentor did not seem all that surprised about it, but was steady and reassuring, nonetheless. Hermione then headed toward her professors' quarters in Gryffindor tower.

She slowly put away all her things, in a neat stack, where they belonged. After she put the things away neatly in her quarters, she looked around her tidy barracks, and she still felt unsettled. Something seemed...missing.

The Golden Girl tried to tell herself it was merely because of her huge change of life- it was a big transition, to give up your childhood in that manner, and turn the page, as Minerva would remind her, later. She knew, intellectually, that it was a big thing, to leave your childhood sweetheart, after all-and theirs had been such a public romance, at that. Much of Britain would take this to heart. As much as she disliked it, she recognized that her life no longer belonged to just her alone-or Ron and Harry's lives, as well-and hadn't for years.

Albet true, that wasn't what left her feeling unsettled, she finally admitted.

So, she decided to end that feeling of ennui.

XOXOXOXOXOXOX

She looked everywhere for her, but she was no where to be found. She wasn't in her quarters, in the RoR, the library; she walked the grounds by the lake...Hermione was at a loss. She walked back to her quarters, and pulled from her foot chamber, one of the two qifts from Harry.

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good." And she tapped it twice with her wand. She looked down at the yellowed parchment. "Show me Fleur Delacour."

Hermione frowned, when she saw the blue dot circling around the shrieking shack. It was then she realized...

XOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Hermione sheilded her eyes, looking upwards.

Though it was an overcast day, there was still solar glare, and she couldn't be sure, but she thought...maybe..

"Fleur!" She hollered, towards the sky. "Fleur, are you there?" She squinted her gaze, continuing to search the sky.

An almost imperceptible black dot from the sky hovered, momentarily, then began a downward spiral below. In almost breakneck speed, the majestic visage of the Veela sailed overhead, gliding close to Hermione's head. It circled her again, before landing with a swoop, in front of her. Hermione smiled, holding out some Mint Juniper and mealworms, which the Veela sniffed and snapped up from her hand, quickly retreating.

"Oh, so that's how it is, huh?" Hermione said. "Just use me for my treats?" She chuckled.

The Veela glared at her, licked its lips, then she heard the unmistakable cracking of bones that was associated with the transformation. Although she had seen it before, it still seemed painful to the human, and she winced for her friend. Hermione looked downward, while Fleur went to the base of the tree trunk and retrieved her satchel of clothing and redressed.

"You're back...early, 'ermione." Fleur said, nonchalantly.

"Yes."

Hermione just looked at Fleur, who was fluffing out her hair. Even today, the woman still took her breath away. She had not a lick of makeup on, and her hair was somewhat wild from flying around in the sky; she always looked a little haggard immediately following her transformation.

But Hermione couldn't deny the fact she was simply stunning.

Fleur looked bemused. "Somezing to zay, mademoiselle Granger?"

Hermione looked at her, speechless.

Fleur reached into her bag grabbing a hair tie and binding her beautiful hair into a tight high ponytail. Watching her, the brunette felt like she had forgotten how to speak. Such a simple act and yet she made it so ...sensuous.

Hermione's brain was short-circuiting. She never really truly allowed herself permission to think that way, regarding Fleur, until now. In part because she was not completely free, and Hermione was just not that kind of person. But now, she was.

Fleur, for her part, seemed somewhat deliberately oblivious to her friends internal struggle. Instead she offered simply a terse "You're back early, 'ermione? Trouble in ze golden paradise?"

Hermione felt stung, both by the words and the delivery, and simply looked down and said nothing.

Fleur stopped being snarky, sensing her friends distress. She quickly moved close to Hermione, face serious, and put her arms on her shoulders that seemed so unexpectedly tense.

"Are you okay?" she asked gently.

"We separated."

Fleur felt as though the wind was knocked out of her. A tiny little piece inside of her ignited the flame that fanned the dangerous prospect of hoping...

"Really?" she asked, clearing her throat.

"Really."

Fleur said nothing as she stood there, just looking at her friend. After moment she looked at Hermione thoughtfully, and gestured towards the castle.

"Come... let us go."

Hermione nodded, and wordlessly followed the beautiful witch. As they walked, their pace was slow and deliberate, and the conversation nonexistent, each not saying much. However the nervous glances they cast each other spoke volumes. They arrived at Fleur's quarters first.

The Veela cleared her throat, and put aside her uncharacteristic nervousness to ask, "Er...would you like to come in? 'ave some ... 'ow zey say... Tea and sympathy?"

Hermione nodded. "I would love that, Fleur." As Hermione walked in her space, she immediately noticed the unusual disarray. Books were everywhere, empty bottles of wine and uncollected wine glasses littered the room; clothing lay in a heap on the floor. She looked around, and said gingerly, "um, if this isn't a good time, I can come back-"

"Non!" Fleur cut her off, abruptly. "It'z ...fine, 'ermione." She looked at her residence through Hermione's eyes, and let out a bitter laugh. Gesturing around her, she offered, " I was just a little bit... distraught..."

Fleur took out her wand, and let out a few rapid fire cleaning spells, and the place became its usual orderly habitat.

Hermione stepped directly into the line of sight of Fleur Delacour. She looked her directly in the eyes, holding her gaze, evenly. After a beat, she said in a quiet voice, "I'm sorry I distressed you, Fleur."

Fleur folded her arms across her chest in her usual defensive posturing. "Vat makes you say zat?"

Hermione continued to look at her, evenly. She said nothing, for a moment. "Because... you like me, Fleur. Like...like me. And it upset you that I left."

Whoosh! Hermione Granger put the truth out there, way out there...and that headlong crash into reality caused Fleur to feel as though she was going to have an imminent cardiac arrest! Her body felt the stress hormone kick in, and as a result, She felt the early vestiges of the change. Her fingers were starting to crack, slightly, and elongate...

Hermione closed the distance between them, sensing Fleur's turmoil; and she pulled the French witch into a tight embrace, rubbing her back to calm her. Fleur, against her will, couldn't help but to melt into the comfort of that embrace - her embrace- and sigh, resigned. It was as though her body finally exhaled, and relaxed, almost; the comforting arms and the familiar smell and the utter goodness that was her friend and unrequited love, Hermione Jean Granger...and the gentle strokes against her back did calm her inner Veela, soothing it.

A low whisper shook her out of her reflection.

"Because, Fleur Isabelle, you see...well. I feel exactly the same way about you...that you do, about me..."

She pulled away, to look into Fleur's eyes. The Veela's eyes were no longer Cerulian Blue; they were dark and focused on nothing but Hermone's mouth. Her breaths were shallow, and had a small desperate rasp to them. She closed her eyes, as the smaller witch cupped her cheek with her right hand. "But Fleur, you do realize, I couldn't...wouldn't...act on those feelings, when I promised myself otherwise...?"

Fleur let out a barely imperceptible nod.

"Zat is why William and I..." Her scratchy voice cut out.

Hermione looked at her incredulously. "But..but that happened, before school started, Fleur!"

A slightly tragic smile slid across the French woman's face.

The shorter woman's eyes widened, with realization. "But ... how could you know? What made you think - did you..."

Fleur sighed. "Yes, I knew."

"How long?"

The blond witch shifted, clearly uncomfortable.

"How on Earth could you know that you liked me, Fleur? You didn't really even know me!"

"You are wrong, 'ermione. I do know you - ze most primitive part of you; and I 'ave for a long, long time. En outré...I don't like you, c'est vrai; Mais non, 'ermione...I love you..."

Hermione tried to keep the shock off her face.

Fleur searched her eyes. "I've loved you... for az long az I can remember, Cheri."

Hermione's arms dropped lower, her mind reeling with the confession. She looked away, her mind trying to process this new information. This Goddess, this...angel? The woman who had tormented her dreams for many months now? The future Alpha of the Delacour Clan, and daughter of the fiercest Veela alive? She...her... Hermione couldn't process it all.

Fleur grew nervous with the growing silence. "I...I don't expect anzying from you, Mademoselle, truly! I .. I ...

Hermione's eyes snapped up. "And why not?" She asked, challenging.

Fleur's eyes shot back up with the unexpected salvo. She realized the shift of perception that had just occurred. Tightening her arms around the younger witch, she slammed her rear ward with force until her back hit the wall behind her. Fleur pressed her front against Hermione, and gazed down, with a clearly predatory gaze.

"Why not? Because, dear 'ermione...you are ze only person in ze world who doesn't recognize ze fact zat you belong to me! No one else should touch you..."

And as she leaned forward, she could feel the Transfiguration professor's body tremble slightly as she bent down, to take Hermione's lips in a demanding and bruising manner. No, it was no tender first kiss; this was meaty and raw, and full of the desire Fleur had pent up for so many years. She ached to feel her; feel every part of h her, against her own body.

"...but me."

Fleur communicated that intent with her hungry mouth.

"Ohhhh, 'ermione..." Fleur said, as her lips were literally everywhere on Hermione's face, and neck. She let out a gasp. "...'ave to feel you...touch you..."

Hermione threw her head back, as she arched into Fleur, "Holy Mother, Fleur! You...you... feel so damn incredible..."

Hermione was trembling. Never had she felt like this; never had a kiss or a touch made her feel so alive! Never had she felt so much desire, or felt so desired. She was literally consumed by the woman who's hands were busy staking their claim on her presently. And she couldn't help the groan from escaping her lips, as they sought the reconnection with Fleur.

With that moan, Fleur used it to her advantage. She stuck her considerably talented tounge into Hermione's mouth.

"Mmmmm..." She murmured into Hermione's mouth. She hissed when Hermione grabbed with with her lips, and began sucking on it, in return.

Fleur's body was on fire, the desire consuming her. She pressed deeper and harder against Hermione, her right leg sliding between Hermione, seeking the desperate contact. Fleur lifted her leg, grazing Hermione's sex, and pressing harder against it.

"You are delicious, Mademoselle...I want you. I want you so much!" She grunted. She thrust her right leg firmly against Hermione's sex.

Hermione shuddered against Fleur, the thrust causing a pulse between her legs and a pool of fluid to seep past her panties. Her face was flushed, and she wanted Fleur, in kind; but she forced herself to clear her mind.

"How wet are you for me...'ermione Granger?" Growled the blonde, as she bit into her neck, sure to leave a mark.

The dirty talk momentarily clouded her mind, and Hermione redoubled her efforts to keep her sanity. She pushed Fleur away from her, to great protest.

"Fleur..." Hermione began firmly.

The Veela was irritated.

"Look, I know in our lives, we will fuck each other silly and most undoubtedly raw...but in this moment, for my first time with you...I..."

Her hesitant tone had appeased Fleur, and looked at her, surprisingly patient.

Hermione blushed. "For the first time, well, I want to ... make love to you. In a bed. Not..."

"...get fucked against a wall?" Fleur finished with a low chuckle.

Hermione nodded.

Fleur tilted her head, and merely extended her hand out to the nervous Gryffindor.

"Zen come, zis way, s'il vous plait..my love."

Hermione smiled in return. Without hesitation, she reached down, and took the elegant hand offered to her, and headed off in the direction of Fleur Delacour's bedroom.

TBC.