A/N: Ladyfun: Happy to finally provide you with the smex and smut requested (although tasteful, damn you TiAdoro!)
TiAdoro914: Thank you for your continued support, would love to hear what you think of our little tale! This is so much fun, so happy to see the interest.
CHAPTER 7. THE DELACOUR FAMILY GALA, PART I
Hermione's nerves were shot.
For what seemed like an endless series of days, she had been lugged through Diagon Alley by the annoyingly enthusiastic blonde tandem of Cissy and Gaby, in a whirlwind fury of their retail frenzy. Hermione would stare, longingly, at Flourish and
Blotts while forced to march past, only to be yanked away by one of the two of them into yet another dress shop.
"Non, 'ermione! Eyez on ze prize!" Gaby would insist. "We only 'ave a week left, to make you presentable!"
"Oh, Bloody Hell." Hermione grumbled. "Fine! As long as it doesn't entail you measuring my "inseam" again, I suppose I'll survive…" Hermione grumbled, referencing Gaby's overly frisky measurements of her bust, waist, and inseam earlier
in the week.
"Vous m'insulter!" Gaby said, in mock indignation. "What waz wrong wiz my 'inseasm' estimations, Belle?"
"Really, Gabrielle?" Hermione stated plainly.
"Yes, really, Gabrielle?" added Narcissa, chuckling.
Ignoring the Gryffindor, Gaby looked at her fellow towhead. Gabrielle immediately huffed, "What do you mean, Cissy?"
"Come on, Ms. Delacour! Don't act all innocent, now! I saw you take poor Hermione's dress measurements the other day! Gabrielle Delacour…not only was it NOT done in the typical manner in which most wizards or house elves take measurements, I dare
say, you may have gone further in terms of sexual endeavors with Ms. Granger than another blonde Delacour in your lineage!"
Hermione snorted with laughter.
"Bah! You two make such ze hills out of ze mountains!" Gaby dismissed.
The scholar in Hermione couldn't resist correcting Gaby. "Er…I think you mean mountains out of molehills."
"Whatever! Hills, trees, mice, who cares? Look, Narcissa, I can assure you zis: if zat was sex, zen ze brightest witch of our generation needs to remediate wizarding 'ealth class, because zat left a serious amount to be
desired! "
Narcissa chuckled, amused by Hermione's rising embarrassment.
The youngest witch was now on a roll, gesticulating furiously. "Furzermore, I am French, Cissy! AND I am Veela! Remember!?" Gaby embellished with an extra flourish on the last point. "AND, as a French Veela, Madam, I assure you,
I would recognize ze sex eef eet 'appened! Zat, Madame, waz no sexual activity, I can say wiz certainty!"
Cissy and Hermione were speechless at Gaby's pressured oratory. Narcissa cleared her throat. "I have no doubt of your authority on the matter, Mademoiselle." The healer replied. "Cheeky witch."
"Well, since you didn't even offer me a cigarette afterwards," Hermione interjected, "does that mean I get to go to Flourish & Blotts, by way of a make up?" She looked up at her shopping companions, hopefully.
"No!" The blondes replied simultaneously.
Hermione groaned.
XOXOXOXOXO
The day had finally arrived, and the three friends gathered their one singular bag they packed, that Hermione had charmed for them all with her signature extension charm. The excited witches prepared for the transatlantic floo transport required to get
to Versailles, to Gaby's family estate. Gaby was practically vibrating, she was so excited to get home.
Hermione had a cautious enthusiasm, in contrast. She was glad in the sense that she would get to see Fleur, finally; but she was decidedly not glad she would have to endure what was coming, in order to do so the day after tomorrow.
Interestingly, Hermione's contact with her date was surprisingly minimal over the past week; Fleur was out of country on a mission. Being Fleur, she had thoughtfully sent a brief note reassuring Hermione she would see her that evening following, and how
much she was looking forward to it and how much she missed her.
"Ready, Beetches?" Gaby said, her accent growing thicker, if that was even possible. She was the first in the cue to depart. She turned and grinned to her pals. "Let'z go get our Balls on!"
XOXOXOXXOXOOX
As Narcissa diligently helped put Hermione together that afternoon, patiently straightening her hair, and buffing her nails, the younger witch couldn't help but lean into the touch, and sigh.
"What is it dear? Did I clip you, accidentally?"
"No…" Hermione said, sounding very far away. "You're smashing, actually. It's just that…" she shook her head. "You remind me of…home. Of…my mum." Hermione's eyes went wide, suddenly, the realization of what she said, hitting her. She quickly
added, "I mean, not that you're old, or anything, Cissy! I…meant…"
Narcissa laughed. "Dear, I actually am old enough to be your mother, no offense taken."
Hermione still felt bad, clearly. "But… you're my friend, Cissy, not my pathetic subconscious' poor-Freudian-slip-excuse, for a mom."
The pure-blood frowned, brows knotted. "I have no idea what you just said, Hermione, but I would suggest this: I agree…we're friends. But it would be understandable, I suppose…" her voice trailed off as she wrestled with a particularly difficult
ringlet and knot that refused to behave in Hermione's hair. Eventually victorious, she resumed her thought. "Anyhoo, as I was mentioning…we do have that sort of…generation gap, for lack of a better term."
"Oh, Narcissa, you know…despite the fact you're older, perhaps you could take solace in the fact you're actually much hipper than I am."
"Without question, Hermione!" She replied, not a lick of humor in her voice. "But dear, I'm honored that you also think of me as someone that could care for you like only a mother can, as well." Narcissa Black regarded her former mudblood advisory,
adding sincerely, "…because I think of you as a daughter, Hermione."
Hermione looked shocked, as Narcissa went back to taming her mane. It wasn't until her hairbrush snapped in two that she finally looked up at the younger Gryffindor, noting the early vestiges of shining tears hinting of their imminent appearance. .
"Oh, no, no, no, dear! None of that – it will smudge your make-up, and I quite simply do not have time to perform another cosmetic miracle and get us there on time, again!" She scooped up Hermione in a deep hug, which soothed the girl, immediately.
"Hermione," Narcissa leaned down, whispering into her ear, despite the fact they were completely secluded from anyone else. "Hermione, you know, I've always wanted a big family."
"What happened?"
Narcissa looked grim. "It wasn't in the cards. So it was only Draco, for me. But now, I feel like a tiny part of myself got the daughters I always wanted, in Gaby, and especially in you, my dear Hermione."
The Golden Girl smiled, relaxing into Narcissa's embrace.
"If they could see us now…" Hermione chuckled.
"Mmmm," Narcissa hummed. "They'd ask why on Merlin's eyeball we aren't ready with only 45 minutes to go, I'm afraid. Get dressed! Now."
"Fine! I'm going, you pushy pure-bred." She teased, recalling Gaby's colloquialism.
XOXOXOXOXOX
The care that Narcissa had obviously taken to prepare Hermione entire aspect of preparation for the evening en toto, deeply touched the younger witch. Every detail, down to the most minute, had been painstakingly attended to, in elegant fashion.
Hermione Granger was a vision, in her periwinkle dress that showed off her lithe figure, hugging her in all the right places, while being perfectly appropriate to meet the mother and family of her witch. She had Gardena's woven into her beautiful
hair; a loose French twist, with ringlets accenting the sides of her face, with only small diamond studs accenting her ears.
Narcissa had rehearsed the etiquette of the ball with the Gryffindor over and over; Hermione felt like she could navigate receiving lines, silver service for 14 courses, and the waltz in her sleep. (She had even joked if it had been she and Narcissa on
the hunt for horcruxes, instead of the Golden Trio, it would have taken them 8 days, tops…to which Narcissa replied 'More like 6 days…I could have just gone into Bellatrix' vault instead of that ridiculous, ballsy move of yours you pulled with the
Polyjuice.')
Gaby was able to sneak away from her hosting duties around 6pm, escaping to see her two friends.
"Mon Dieu!" Gaby said, exhausted, as she burst into their suite. "I 'ave been at eet, since 5am! Fleur 'as not yet arrived, and I 'ad to do 'er job, az well! I need a cigarette, and I don't even smoke!"
As Gaby entered, she was surprised to see the trembling backside of Hermione, who was cradled in the arms of Narcissa, who at that moment, was clearly comforting the younger shaking witch, and embracing her tightly. Hermione had had a flashback of her
horrible time under the torture of Narcissa's demented older sister, and Narcissa was comforting her. Gaby had the unfortunate timing of walking in, seeing only Narcissa with a deeply worried expression, and her gentle kisses to the side of Hermione's
face.
Gaby frowned, and did what she did best: she lightened the mood.
"Beetches! I 'ave been trying to get you to explore your Sapphic tendencies for montz, now Cissy, and I walk into discover you zat you two slutz are doing eet behind my back? Witzout moi? I am so offended!"
The two women sniggered, in spite of themselves. Gaby, satisfied, walked over to Hermione, her expression quickly turning soft and concerned for her best mate.
"Gravité, my dearest 'ermione, iz zere anyzink I can do, for—" Gaby stopped, mid sentence, as soon as she saw Hermione full on.
Gaby stopped in her tracks when she saw Hermione. Gaby let out a low whistle, her eyes appreciatively raking up and down Hermione's visage. "Incroyable! Narcissa…." Gaby exhaled, her thrall dripping off her in waves, "zis might be your most astounding
magic, ever!"
"Oh, hush, you!" Hermione said, swatting off Gaby, laughing; her previous PTSD forgotten.
"I'm very serious…if Fleur fucks up, or doezn't make eet zis evening, I cannot be 'eld responsible for my actions…"
Narcissa chuckled, causing Gaby to regard her other friend, fully. "Woah! Narcissa!" Gaby said, eyes widening, almost comically. "Vous êtes un morceau de gateau, aussi! You look delicious, az well!"
The Veela appreciatively took in the older blonde, dressed elegantly in a Aquamarine dress with white accents and tasteful diamond jewelry. Gabrielle Delacour grinned, waggling her eyebrows. "I see why you are ze talk of the Veela, Madame Sexualité!"
"What?" Narcissa asked.
"Ze Veela Clans – ze 'eads of all ze clans are 'ere tonight, not just ze Delacours, although ours iz ze most powerful," she said, seriously. "Ze 'ave been talking about who ze 'mysterious English Veela' iz 'ere, az zey were not aware of an English Veela
faction."
"What English Veela?" Hermione asked.
Gaby pointed a finger at Narcissa. "Zat one, zere!"
"What?" Narcissa said, shocked, placing a hand on her own chest. "Me? Hardly!"
The three witches laughed.
Hermione stated the irony of that gossip. "My arse… her family refused to even befriend anyone who wasn't Pure Blooded, and they certainly weren't bloody well going to shag them and introduce them into the family tree!"
"Toujours pur!" Narcissa said, with a false haughtiness, as she poured herself a shot of firewhiskey, musing at the gossip surrounding herself.
Gaby marched over to the pureblood, and held up a shot glass for herself, as well, motioning Narcissa to pour.
"Eet iz a compliment, Narcissa, ze Veela downstairs are all insizting zat you are too good looking to be merely an 'ordinary' witch."
Hermione and Gaby chuckled to see the modest blush creep across the elder Black's expression. Narcissa merely poured Gaby a drink, silently. Gaby downed her shot, wiping her ruby red lips and shaking her head.
XOXOXOX
Narcissa and Hermione continued to glance at the clock. The ball was scheduled to begin, and there was still no sign of Fleur; only Gaby seemed unparsed. Hermione had worn a track, practically, in the throw rug. She looked up at Narcissa, nervous.
"Narcissa…" Hermione began.
But before she could get another word out, Madame Black interrupted her.
"Merlin's Beard, Hermione!" Narcissa was firm. "For the twentieth time, within the span of 10 minutes, the answer is no. No, I do not think any ill has befallen Fleur! No, I do not think she has changed her mind about taking you
as her date! And no, I do not think she has had an unexplained memory lapse causing her to forget the address of her home, here in France!" Narcissa huffed. "Just….no, Hermione. NO. No to any of the inane questions you are going to ask that we've
already ruminated about in great length…multiple times."
Gaby looked, for all practical purposes, like she was going to explode withholding her laughter from Narcissa's outburst.
"Um, I zink, 'ermione…." Gaby giggled. "What Cissy iz trying to say, iz zat she zinks, as well, uh, we both zink zat it iz merely zat…Fleur is running a little late, n'est ce pas?"
Hermione continued to fidget and pace.
Mercifully for Narcissa and Gaby, there was a knock on the door.
Unfortunately, it wasn't the late blonde Auror, rather the senior house staff coming to inform Gaby and Narcissa they needed to come downstairs, and take their places for the oncoming process, by command "invitation," of Apollene Delacour.
They looked apologetically at Hermione.
"No, no…you go. I'll stay here, and wait, for Fleur to arrive. If she does, that is."
Hermione sighed, as her friends left, and sat on the bed, waiting for her witch.
Eventually she lay down on the bed, removing the evil heels Narcissa had picked out for her, staring at the ceiling.
To calm her nerves, she began converting the name "Fleur Isabelle Delacour-Granger" into character number arithmancy table derivations. Before she even realized it, the studious woman had fallen dead asleep.
XOXOXOXOXOXO
Hermione startled, feeling the longest eyelashes ever, fluttering against her cheek.
She let out a sleepy, "Fleur? Is…you?"
The brunette felt a hearty chuckle reverberate against her neck, as the softest of lips danced, delicately, across her neck. The melodic cambre of Fleur's throaty voice vibrated against the skin on her neck, causing goosebumps to rise.
"I would 'ope no one else would be privileged to zis, ozzer zan me, ma belle…" she continued to let the lightest of kisses peck against the disoriented woman's neck and face. Her warm breath tickled her neck, and made her feel the arousal, immediately.
"Mmmm… Fleur…I missed you. I missed you so much."
The room was now dark, and Hermione was extremely disoriented. What she lacked in visual perception, however, was compensated for by touch, smell, and what could only be described as raw emotion.
"Oh, Fleur," Hermione yawned, finally rousing, the euphoria of Fleur-ness enchanting her senses awake, "I was so worried about you! What happened? Was it…work?"
Fleur merely kissed her neck. Murmuring against her skin, the blonde finally gave a vague, "Well…yes, and no. Oui, ze mission did take longer zan expected, mais alors, but, truthfully… eet waz somezing else, entirely, zat kept me away. I am sorry,
'ermione, but I will explain, later. I missed you too ma belle. Missed you more than I zot possible. Forgive me?"
She continued to pepper kisses on her neck.
"There's nothing to forgive," she said, as she snaked her arms around Fleur's neck above her. "Now that you're finally here, anyway."
Fleur touched her forehead to Hermione's, looking into her eyes, releasing a trapped breath, within. "Bon."
There was something, just so delicious, so decadent, about hearing Fleur say things like, "Bon." It was just a word, really; but somehow, when Fleur said it, it had the promise of something more. Always something more.
The groggy English witch pushed up, propping up on her elbows. "Well, now that you're here, let's have a look at you, shall we?" Hermione asked, voice slightly raspy.
In order to look at her absentee date, in her fully glory, Hermione glanced towards her end table, casting a wandless "Incindio", lighting the candle set at her bedside. The warm light immediately bathed the room, and Hermione turned back around, and
let out a tiny startled gasp. She gasped, at the truth that that light would reveal, to her, regardless if those truths had been made evident to her prior to tonight.
Without the daily physical proximity of her witch, she was able to put those truths in some compartmentalized area of her back brain. But looking at her, accented so perfectly in the candlelight, with the adoring, steel blue gaze directed at her, Hermione
sighed. She sighed, because, well….because.
Because, Fleur was so…devastatingly beautiful.
Never in her life, to her recollection, could Hermione remember having seen anyone, or anything, of such absolute perfection. Fleur Delacour, languidly hovering above her, propped on her elegant left arm, was perfection.
And on Fleur Delacour, perfection looked effortless.
So staggered was the younger witch, that she for once didn't focus on her own self-perceived inadequacies when next to the blonde goddess.
Hermione gushed. "Fleur, your dress! Your hair! Oh, my…I…I, well, I mean to say, you're absolutely… stunning, my beautiful one. Stunning."
It was Fleur's turn to blush. She opened her mouth to say something, and then just shut it, suddenly seeming unsure. She couldn't determine the cause of her muddled thought, but when she glanced back up at Hermione, and looked at the well of love that
was full in her one's eyes, she realized.
What Fleur saw, in that moment, the utter reassurance…it filled her with total love.
"Zank you." She said quietly.
Hermione tentatively reached over to Fleur, stroking her cheek, tenderly, with the tips of her fingers. As she ghosted the tips of her fingers across Fleur's flawless complexion, Hermione frowned.
"Fleur, darling….is something the matter?"
Fleur shook her head, 'No.' In contrast, tears were threatening to spill out from the enormity of her feelings. Hermione's eyes, as a result, were laced with concern; but she remained quiet, patiently regarding Fleur and touching her gently, waiting.
The silence grew heavy, after awhile. The Veela attempted to clear her throat, in an effort to speak, because she knew her inarticulate self would alarm unnecessarily the "Mother Gryffindor of Worry", Hermione Granger.
So the overcome Veela attempted to express, verbally, what had overcome her, emotionally – and quite unexpectedly.
"My dear one, 'ermione…." Fleur's voice was so uncharacteristically unsure. "All my life, or at least, zince puberty, je sais…." Fleur looked at Hermione, meaningfully. "I 'ave always been called "beautiful" until eet lost meaning, to me. I do not mean
to sound…arrogant. But over and over, so many times in my life, I zink I 'ad, well, lost count."
"That's because you are gorgeous, Fleur." Hermione said, gently. "It's an accurate compliment."
"Peut-etre, 'ermione…perhaps accurate, to some…but definitely not honest. Eet alwayz came, from a boy….zome thrall-addled mind, from some drooling sycophant. Zey saw zee Veela, zey felt ze thrall... and eet didn't take long to grow to despise ze
complements, after a time."
Hermione nodded, but she held her tongue.
Fleur was now clutching Hermione's hand, as she looked intently into Hermione's eyes, as though through sheer force of will she could impart what she was trying to say directly from brain to brain transplant, and spare herself the discomfort of reliving
this empty life again…out loud.
"But just now, 'ermione? Ze way you looked at me, when you turned on ze light?"
"Yes?"
"Oh, mon chouchou, don't you know? Eet was.. so different! Zis time, for ze first time in my grown up life, I felt eet, from you. Ze words…ze words sounded…sincere."
Her voice broke, trailing off. She glanced away, but it didn't hide the fact a solitary tear formed, which Hermione gently wiped away. Even then, Hermione still remained quiet, simply looking attentively at Fleur, gently.
The blonde took a deep, self-collecting, breath.
Her eyes drifted upwards, regarding Hermione. The Frenchwoman spoke, speech halting, at times.
"Zis iz… ze first time in my life, zose words were spoken by someone wiz a clear mind, and bright eyes! I could see your eyes. I could feel…zat you meant eet. Zere waz no thrall poisoning ze complement; ruining eet entirely." Fleur looked at her,
with so much emotion, as she said, barely above a whisper, "eet simply, waz, 'ermione…." She halted, taking a breath.
The look she gave Hermione nearly broke the younger woman's heart, on the spot.
"Oh, 'ermione….For ze first time, I felt…loved, and adored. Loved, for me, and not my Veela 'eritage." She gushed a genuine, "Zank you, Ma belle."
The Veela, as though exhausted from the confession, bent down, placing her head on Hermione's chest, and curled into her.
Fleur's long lashes fluttered, and she closed her eyes, as her head came into contact with Hermione's skin. Fleur released a breath, relaxing finally, as she listened to the calming heartbeat of her incandescent Professor, underneath.
They laid there, for a long while, Fleur nearly dozing off. Before the blonde nodded off completely, she felt a gentle touch rousing her, lifting her chin, upwards.
Hermione was gazing at her, adoringly, with a genuine smile. Her fingers, despite Narcissa's best efforts to the contrary, still were far from polished, but they felt like the softest velvet, to the Frenchwoman.
Those fingers tilted the Beauxbaton's chin, delicately. Fleur could feel her; feel her Hermione, as though she was willing her, from the depths within her soul, to return her gaze.
The room seemed…abstrusse. And oddly quiet.
"Fleur." Hermione's voice was low, breaking the still of the dark room.
"Oui, ma belle?"
"I've been thinking, about what you said. And I think…" she paused, looking at Fleur as though she was weighing her thoughts, carefully.
Fleur's eyes then drifted upwards, taking in the thoughtful witch. She roused her groggy head, clearing her mind, and pushed upwards, until she was level with Hermione, leaning on one arm.
Hermione began stroking Fleur's cheek, again. So gently.
"I've been thinking, Fleur. There's so much you've probably never felt was for you, before. And, well," Hermione felt her face involuntarily flushing. "Well, if you would…let me show you, Fleur."
"Show me?"
"Yes, show you. Show you how much," Hermione bit her lip. "It's just… I want you to feel…what I feel. I want to show you…how much I really, really love you Fleur, and genuinely admire you."
"Okay, but in what-"
Before Fleur Delacour could articulate an actual question, she felt Hermione cup her hand on the back of her neck, pulling her in. The lion in the Gryffindor roared, and once Hermione was decided, there was no going back on a decision. So, the little
English witch did it.
She leaned in, towards Fleur.
The woman known for her verbosity, oddly, had decided to let her actions speak for themselves. She had never been the aggressor in their relationship, albeit in its infant stages, but she knew she had to channel her inner Gryffindor and find the courage
to show the woman she was truly loved, in the language of the Veela.
Because she did love her.
So much.
The heady scent of Fleur assaulted the younger woman's senses, and she felt herself melt into Fleur, becoming jelly, despite the fact she had initiated this, for once.
Hermione pressed her lips to Fleur's, with a gentle fierceness that was quintessential Hermione. Her kisses felt determined, as though longing for the prize after great endeavoring
She nipped Fleur's lower lip, earning a small moan, from the startled woman, pressed against her. Granted, Hermione's kisses were not polished, nor overly confident; what they were, however, was passionate and earnest, just like the woman they came from.
Fleur felt her entire body shake, in response, as though a small earthquake originated from Hermione's lips as the nucleus. The amorous "tremor epicenter", as it were.
Hermione hesitantly pushed them backwards, spilling onto the bed, and topped the blonde witch. Positioned underneath Hermione with their lips still connected, Fleur realized it was clearly a position she was not familiar with, being underneath. She had
not found herself in this situation often. While she was not exactly comfortable with…being topped… she found she didn't mind so much as she felt Hermione's tongue wrapping around hers, with such polite passion.
The Veela purred, slightly, with contentment. Never had she been kissed like this…
ever.
Never had she felt so much, from just a kiss…ever.
Fleur thought she couldn't help, nor be held responsible, for the fact that her hands had a mind of their own. She thought her defense would simply be…'It was the skin of the woman who enraptured me, so, I plead not guilty, your honor.' Her hands crept
around Hermione's backside, slowly unzipping the dress, languidly. Halfway down, she unhooked Hermione's bra, noting the tiny hitch in her breath as they continued to kiss, and she continued.
However, she nearly derailed in her mission when she felt Hermione buck, slightly, and press the warmth of her core against her own. Then, when the dizzying smell of her mate's arousal drifted upwards, one that the Veela's highly developed olfactory senses
tuned into immediately, she came undone. Fleur was tipping out of control. She arched into her touch, towards the contact of Hermione's hot core, and she pressed back, intently, to her one.
Her mate.
Fleur let the reality and the finality of that label swallow her whole, filling her with such completeness, and she wantonly let out a more carnal moan, this time.
The sound caused Hermione's eyes to snap open. Her hands were ensconced in Fleur's hair, gripping it, as though she was afraid Fleur might turn away, if she didn't hold tight. Without releasing her grip, Hermione pulled her lips away from ravishing Fleur's,
and began looking at the blonde.
"Fleur?"
Fleur said nothing, merely staring at her mate, with her intense brown eyes and swollen lips caused by her zealous kisses. Fleur thought Hermione had never looked so beautiful, as now.
"Yes, ma belle?" Fleur answered, voice raspy.
Hermione spoke with determination, keeping her fingers gripped in Fleur's blonde tresses. "Fleur…let me be clear. I want to be a part of you. Right now, right this very minute."
"A part of me?" Fleur clarified.
Surprisingly, Hermione didn't look embarrassed, or awkward, or even a little bit nervous. She did relax her grip, however, unclenching her hands balled in Fleur's flaxen locks. She smoothed over Fleur's hair, almost apologetically, while she spoke. Despite
her tiny smile to the contrary, Hermione managed to look very matter-of-fact, like a true Gryffindor.
"Fleur….Fleur, I need you."
Her dress slid off her left shoulder, where Fleur had unzipped her earlier. Hermione shrugged off the wayward dress strap, entirely, causing Fleur's brain to short-circuit, slightly, as more of that wondrous skin came into her line of sight.
"Nee—? Ohhhh..." Fleur's eyes went wide, with realization. Then, she looked nervous. "Oh, ah…'ermione, while I 'ad 'opted….zat you would feel zat way…"
Hermione merely nodded, staring intently at Fleur's lips, licking her own.
Fleur cleared her throat, distracted. "Ma belle, while I am…of like mind, and very excited, I 'ad expected zis would be…après…after ze Ball. My mozzer is so furious zat I am so late…and zere are some zings, zat I zink we need to talk about…"
Hermione cut her off, mid-sentence. "Fleur?"
"Yes, 'ermione?"
"While normally, I would commend such a vociferous response…in this instance, please allow me to request: enough talking. "
Hermione pressed her lips to Fleur's plump, rich ones, after breathing out a heady, "Fleur…take me. Now."
Fleur had had so much she needed to say to Hermione; so much to do, aside from the issue of ensuring "informed consent" regarding their mating, and the fact lovemaking would seal their bond.
She had good intentions, she did, and Fleur had been armed with all the accouterments necessary to discuss this in the traditional manner with the muggleborn witch after having spent some much needed time with certain Veela elders. However, the recent
untimely separation of Fleur from her mate, immediately post- bonding, prior to completion of their sealing, had been terribly upsetting for Fleur's equilibrium.
Her personal homeostasis was completely askew, and her ability to resist was shaken. She didn't care about doing things the right way. She was hungry…so hungry, for her mate. To touch her. To have her….all she could think about was the physical
urge to complete their seal. Everything else was becoming irrelevant in the face of her physical need. Her Veela hunger. The Veela did not require any further instructions, once Hermione gave her permission, regardless of how incomplete the permission
may have been.
Fleur did not waste a single moment with superfluousities. She was not interested in laboring over the unzipping and unpinning of formal dresses; instead casting several spells in a row to divest them of the unwanted outerwear. (As a nice secondary touch,
they were hung up on the wardrobe, freshly pressed and waiting. She was a civilized animal-of-prey, after all.)
Now, with her true love above her, without barriers, physical or emotional….her one true love looking down at her, so ripe….well, the Veela could only withstand so much.
"Fleur." Hermione responded, simply. The feeling of naked skin against naked skin, breasts against breasts, wrapped up in each other was intoxicating is such a profound way.
Despite the urges the both obviously felt, they managed to pause, momentarily, looking at one another. Despite their lack of first hand experience with Veela Bonding, they both intuitively realized this very moment would change their lives forever.
However, Fleur could no longer withstand her primal instincts, calling to her at the most basic level.
It was Fleur's turn: She leaned in.
Her eyes looked dark, and full of purpose. "Tell me 'ow you want it," Fleur Delacour exhaled, voice entirely too sexy and sinful, the Veela scratching close to the surface. "My Beautiful One…tell me 'ow…" she asked, while her body undulated across
Hermione's, teasing her. Finally, she paused, looking down at the brunette hungrily.
Her blue eyes now black, Fleur demanded, "…'ow I am going to take you? 'Ow I will make you fully mine, and complete you… for ze first time?"
It didn't really feel like a question, to Hermione; more like a statement of fact. Hermione hesitantly offered a rather non-committal hum, unsure.
Hermione started to feel her nerves bubbling up to the surface. For the first time since this moment became so heated, she suddenly felt every bit as inexperienced as she actually was, her previous bravado gone. Perhaps it was the worldliness Fleur seemed
to ooze from her very core, or perhaps it was the voracious look in Fleur's eyes, pressing above her, licking her lips. Or, perhaps it was because for the first time Hermione felt like she was about to make love. Make love with the person she loved
more than she knew possible. So Hermione trembled.
The Veela's knowing Cerulean blues seem to be considering something. "While I want zis, so very much, 'ermione…if you are uncertain, at all, eet iz imperative we don't take zis step-
Hermione huffed, with Fleur's completely unnecessary chivalry. "Fleur! I love you. I'm completely hopelessly in love with you."
With a sound that was a cross between strangulation and a growl, Fleur shimmied down Hermione's body, licking and nipping along the way. She lavished her Hermione's breasts with kisses and sucks, with twists of her nipples and licks of the underside of
those gorgeous pink mounds.
She continued her way down Hermione's body, taking the time to appreciate how much she felt in that moment for the woman she loved.
When she arrived at her destination, she gripped Hermione's thighs from underneath, then with a surprising strength, she pulled the younger witch down the bed and opened her legs, wide, presenting her center to the hungry Veela. Fleur eyes were smoldering.
She was fixed on her core, and Hermione watched Fleur's nostrils flare, as she leaned over her, transfixed.
It startled Hermione when Fleur stopped, looking directly up and into her curious eyes, with an intense look.
"My 'ermione…you are everything to me. Without you, zere iz no me. I love you, for today, for tomorrow, and for every day beyond zat, and I alwayz will."
Before Hermione could react to the beautiful sentiment, Fleur plunged forward, affixing her mouth over Hermione's swollen bead. Her tongue darted out, teasing, tormenting; each movement of the talented tongue as it swiped across her clit caused a jolt
in her body. But the long, deliberate swipe Fleur made, down to her core….that was the pièce de résistance. It caused Hermione to writhe and buck, yelling out Fleur's name in the candlelit dark. Fleur's tongue circled her opening, rimming the entire
circumference, and then pressed in, deep into Hermione's core.
Merlin, she had a long tongue! Hermione noted abstractly.
Then, Hermione lost the ability to think at all, as Fleur took her to such great heights, darting her tongue in and out of her opening, only pausing to lap at her swollen clit with the tip of that skilled muscle.
She felt her climax build like the rolling waves at the beach. When she could stand no more, she simply let it wash over her with a gasp, and called out her name.
"Fleur! Oh, Fleur…" Hermione looked up at her, dazed, with a dopey grin on her face, as the frustrated longing and need that existed, unspoken, between them was finally dissolving.
Never, never had she ever felt anything remotely like that before. She had not even known feeling like that was even possible. As Fleur climbed her way back up her witch, she continued to pepper kisses on Hermione's flushed skin. Rather impatient, however,
Hermione reached down for Fleur grabbing her and kissed her with such force and passion in an attempt to convey to her blonde just how close she felt to her in that moment.
"Fleur…I don't…I mean…oh Fluer, I love you. I love you so much. That was…simply… incredible," Hermione rambled. Fleur, in a daze of love smiled at Hermione while she softly stroked her face.
"Ma belle, I love you too, and I hope to hear you scream my name like zat for the rest of our lives," she passionately replied.
Hermione needed to feel her witch, she needed to make Fleur feel an ounce of what she had just felt when Fleur made her feel like they were the only two people in the world. So she took a moment, and with her eyes affixed to her blonde, she rolled them
over so she was back on top.
"Fleur, I need to show you how much I love you, I need to feel you, I need to love you," Hermione said shyly. Fleur beamed at her witch, as she moved to kiss her once again.
"Ma belle, I need you to show me too, but I am so…well…aroused, ma belle, because of you, please, just enter me, right now," Fleur instructed.
Hermione needed to hear nothing further, as she attached her lips to Fleur's once again. Kissing her slowly, her tongue exploring the interior of Fleur's gorgeous mouth, she used her right hand to slowly make it's way down Fleur's gloriously naked body.
She lightly caressed her breasts, my Gods, how full and beautiful they were. Her hand made it's way down Fleur's stomach, slowly caressing her until she reached Fleur's hips and then ever so slowly, while still kissing Fleur passionately, felt Fleur's
light, wet curls. This is it, Hermione thought to herself, I am finally going to make love to her.
Pushing down between Fleur's lips, she began to gently tease her bead. Fleur was wet, so wet with arousal and desire. And it made Hermione feel positively drunk. She was high, high on her witch. As she ran her fingers up and down the length of Fleur,
the feelings she had coursing through her were all consuming.
So without much more preamble, she found the core she was seeking, and entered Fleur with two fingers. Slowly she felt Fleur's warm core surround her, and high on the feeling of her witch, continued to drag in and out of Fleur's opening until their mouths
broke apart, panting, as Fleur looked deeply into her eyes and came apart moaning Hermione's name.
So satisfied were the witches, entangled in each other, that neither noticed the faint golden light bathing their room.
TBC.
