A beautiful autumm day/night to you all! Isn't it just an inspiring season? So, this chapter was very hard work but I hope I did it justice. I'm very excited about what you think about this, so please review! French translations now are on the bottom. Enjoy!
It still snowed and yet the tranquil white surrounding them didn't seem to ease the madness that had invaded Hermione's life.
No matter where she was going people whispered about her, giggled, bawled or asked her if she could brew them a love potion. She was starting to get a real idea of how Harry must have been feeling all the time and when she told him so she earned a brotherly pat on her back.
However despite annoying and irritating her and of course the outrageous concern she had for Hagrid after his exposure now, Reeta Skeeter's articles let her mostly unfazed. It was strange how used she had become to people ignoring her - ignoring their ridiculous attention now didn't seem too far stretched. If anything it made her painfully aware how few people were actually able to use their reason in this castle... then again both of her best friends sometimes weren't very versed in these matters either.
Most people at Hogwarts had settled with the explanation that the french language and academic ambition had brought Fleur and Hermione together - their fight in the library now was generally interpreted as a heated discussion. They concluded Fleur was a heartless wrench who despised her little sister; no one seemed to notice the French's loving behavior to the little girl.
Harry had gently approached her on everything after her encounter with Ginny but had respected it when she had told him she needed time. Ron just kept asking her about introducing Fleur to him, no more word of contemplating with the enemy!
Now, sitting at the Gryffindor table she absentmindedly listened to Ron's bragging on his heroics in the lake, her eyes fixed onto an empty spot at the Ravenclaw table.
Fleur hadn't been seen since the second task. Rumor had it she was seriously ill and even that her mother had come to visit, though no one had yet seen her.
She had to think of her last image of the girl, as she had knelt on the cold forest ground with her chest bared, ivory skin glistening with sweat in the sun, so vulnerable and so beautiful.
It didn't seem to fit in with the images of moments before. The truth was that Hermione knew what she ought to feel about this; and she did feel it. Often at night she woke up in sweat, breathing heavily on the memory. Abhor, fear, confusion, fright... but other feelings crept into them, distorting and twisting her mind to a point where she did what she rarely had ever done: she banned them from her thoughts and tried to think of something else.
Pudding, she thought loud and clearly, fixing the wobbly mass in front of her.
She heard french whispering and looked up again to meet angry stares of Beauxbatons...
they always looked angry at her now... she wondered what they knew.
Then she felt another pair of eyes on her just to avert when she captured their gaze.
Viktor. He had largely kept his distance since he second task and she had no doubts whatsoever about why; he feared the Vela that had marked her property. She couldn't blame him really.
It didn't hinder her though to stand up when she saw him heading towards the entrance and she cornered him in the next corridor.
"Do you believe I slipped you a love potion?", she asked him with a wary smile. "Or what is the reason you have been ignoring me?"
Viktor sighed and took of his hat, kneading it nervously. He wouldn't look at her.
"It vasn't my intention. I fear I have no choice Hermoninny."
Hermione nodded slowly. "Do you know what she did to me?"
Viktor gripped his hat tighter. "Vat did she do?"
Hermione took a deep breath.
"She almost raped me in the forest."
A long silence followed this in which Viktor closed his eyes.
When he gripped her arm it was so sudden Hermione twitched.
"Listen to me!", he whispered frantic. "You must speak to this to Dumbledore! He vill know or help... I... you can't put yourself in front of a Vela... you - "
He stopped and looked up. Hermione followed his gaze to the nearest stair case.
There, in heavy satin robes stood a female figure, her face hidden behind a veil that fell from her head. In her hand was a small elegant suitcase and even though she just stood motionless a power radiated from her, that rose the goosebumps on Hermione's skin.
Viktor turned white. To her greats surprise he pulled her into a fierce short embrace.
"Do vat I told you! I'm sorry."
With that he stormed away. When she looked back to the staircase the woman had vanished.
They left the castle at noon the next day to find a weak silver sun shining down upon the grounds. The weather was a little milder but by the time they arrived in Hogsmeade, all three of them already felt half frozen.
The food Sirius had told them to bring was in Harry's bag; they had sneaked a dozen chicken legs, a loaf of bread, and a flask of pumpkin juice from the lunch table.
They went into Gladrags Wizardwear to buy a present for Dobby, where they had fun selecting the most lurid socks they could find, including a pair patterned with flashing gold and silver stars, and another that screamed loudly when they became too smelly. At the Honeypot Harry bought Hermione a big bag of bat bonbons, her favorite, and offered them to her with a sheepish smile. She accepted this silent gesture of support with a big smile and gentle touch of his shoulder. Then, at half past one, they made their way up the High Street, past Dervish and Banges, and out toward the edge of the village.
Hermione had never been in this direction before. The winding lane was leading them out into the wild countryside around Hogsmeade. The cottages were fewer here, and their gardens larger; they were walking toward the foot of the mountain in whose shadow Hogsmeade lay.
Hermione was absorbing the beautiful scenery when Harry suddenly hold up one arm, prompting them to stop.
"What?", Ron asked him. "Have you seen Siri-, uhm, Snuffles?"
"No... shh-st. Don't you hear that?"
Both Ron and Hermione strained their ears. Finally Hermione could make out the faintest of melodies, a soft voice caring over to them.
"...Fais dodo mon petit homme
Car ta maman près du berceau
Veille sur ton léger somme
Jusqu'à demain jusqu'à demain
Fais dodo..."
"Someone is singing..."
Exchanging looks they slowly staggered towards the voice's direction until they finally stood at the edge of a tiny clearing that looked like a snow cave.
There they witnessed a sight that took Hermione's breath away. In the middle of the clearing on a blue blanket sat a Beauxbaton girl in a hooded robe, holding a smaller girl in the same attire close to her chest.
Both of them shared the silvery blond hair that slipped out of their hoods. The older on continued to sing:
"Ton père au grand banc de Terre Neuve
Dans la brume un soir a péri
Mon p'tit gars pitié pour sa veuve
Ne va pas sur le flot maudit..."
Ron's mouth fell open and even Harry's eyes started to glaze over slightly.
Hermione's brows knitted together, her breath tuned shaky.
She watched how gently Fleur tickled Gabrielle's stomach, who giggled but soon snuggled closer into the warm embrace of her sister.
The smile on Fleur's tired face looked so soft and loving, Hermione couldn't stand it.
She shouldn't smile like this. She shouldn't be allowed to smile this.
"Come on", she heard her own voice from far away.
"Sirius waits for us..."
Far from gentle she started to shove the senseless boys back up the path leading to the cottages, sending one last glance over her shoulders to the sisters.
Quickly she ran up the path.
They turned a corner and saw a stile at the end of the lane. And before any of them could discuss what they had seen, waiting for them, its front paws on the topmost bar, was a very large, shaggy black dog, which was carrying some newspapers in its mouth and looking very familiar..
"Mais bientôt tu seras un homme
Tu riras de ma folle terreur
Et tu navigueras tout comme
Tes frères aînés marins sans peur..."
"Fleur?"
"Yes?"
"Do you think the little boy did become a sailor?"
Fleur hesitated.
"I hope not. But the water is cursed. He has to become a strong man to resist it."
"Why is the water cursed?"
Fleur looked down into her little sister's white face, reddend by the cold.
"It's just a song, Gabrielle. Don't worry about it. Didn't you like it?"
"Yes, I liked it very much. But can't you sing something happy?"
"No more singing for me today, my sweet. You know that horrible nurse forbid me to sing."
Gabrielle ducked her head into her hood.
"I'm sorry. Fleur..."
"Yes?"
"You only sing happy songs when you are happy, don't you."
Fleur poked her nose and quickly presented a sickle from her pocket.
"We sat in the cold far to long. Here, take this and go into that sweet shop. Bring me something
as well."
Excited Gabrielle stomped to her feet, grabbing the coin with both hands.
"What should I bring you?"
"Something I like."
Gabrielle laughed at the challenge.
"One condition."
Fleur arched an eyebrow.
"Yes?"
"You have to smile when I get back!"
Fleur chuckled. "I promise." And before Fleur knew her sister had ran away up the path.
Exhausted she lay back onto the blanket and had to cough a little.
Even though she had mostly layed of the symptoms the Vela had shown before... before the incident she had managed to catch a cold in her weakened state.
She looked up the large snow adorned trees up to the village. She wondered where it was exactly her mother had retreated to. And once again the old man's, Dumbledore's words replayed in her head. Quickly, though it was unusual for her, she pushed he thought away.
"What a sweet little thing she is. Not like you at all", a snarling voice broke the clearing's silence.
Fleur's head shot up and she looked at Rita Skeeter, who was standing right before her, holding a crocodile leather robe tightly around herself.
Angry Fleur rose to her knees.
"You! Vous rat sale! 'ow did you get 'ere? Did you eavesdrop on us?!"
The reporter woman shrugged her shoulders and sat down on the blanket, awkwardly so because of her high heels. There was no way she walked his path down in these heels.
"What do you think?", she said with a horrible smile.
"What are you so afraid of someone could hear? Something you've done perhaps? Something... illegal?"
Fleur felt the blood draw from her face.
"What... what are you talking about?"
"My dear. I'm a reporter and I don't like to waste my time, especial not on a cold day like this.
I know your little secret. I know what you have done. Oh, don't make a face like that, I need you to hear me out. I'm sure you're wondering right now... why hasn't she reported me? Why hasn't she written an awe full article about the evil, evil Vela and sent you and your precious little family right to jail?"
Despite her pumping heart Fleur lept forward.
"You wouldn't dare!"
"... the answer is..." Skeeter continued as though she hadn't heard her, "That you have something. Something that I want."
Fleur regarded the older woman closely, trying to control the fear and despite thundering in her.
"If you know what I am", she whispered, "You know what I am capable of. I could cut your zroat in a second..."
To her surprise Rita started to chuckle.
"Oh, my dear! Do you think I'm so stupid? I'm sue you remember my photgrapher friend,no? In case I should not return tonight I told him there is a nice little cover story waiting for him on... where? Well I should better not tell you, should I?" She laughed as though she had made a terrific joke.
Fleur swallowed hard. "What is it zat you want?"
When they returned from the mountain, all soaked and exhausted Hermione didn't contribute much to Harry and Ron's heated discussion on what Sirius had told them about Barty Crouch.
As much as she tried to, she wasn't able to concentrate on it. When they had reached the center of the village she told her friend she needed to buy some more parchment. With an eye roll they said goodbye to her and trodded of towards the castle.
AS soon as they were out of sight however Hermione returned to the path they had come from.
She returned to the clearing but she found it empty now, just a mole in the snow where the blanket had layed.
Her feet carried her back to the scampered cottages, looking at them in wonder. She knew that some of the Professors lived in those... she smiled when she made one out, which door was adorned with a ribbon in a Scottish checked pattern. At least she had figured one out.
A sudden bell ring tore her from her thoughts. Confused she looked around until she saw a small little building with a lopsided bell tower attached to it. Could it be...?
Curious she walked to the building and entered it.
It was indeed a church though a modest one. There was hardly any decoration apart from the wooden crosses and statues at the walls.
Like in the great hall candles were floating in the air, these however seemed to emit a softer glow.
Suddenly Hermione stopped; she wasn't alone.
In front of the altar a girl with knelt on the floor, her silver hair moist from the snow outside, her hands palmed in prayer.
She lent back at a single column, her mouth slightly open in shock at the feelings rising in her.
She watched how the girl whispered in french then signed of the cross.
She seemed awfully cold, her slender shoulders shaking.
Tentatively Hermione raised a hand and mumbled a quiet spell.
Suddenly the torches framing the altar ignited in blue fire, that slowly turned red and orange.
The kneeling girl straightened her back.
"I 'ave seen you lightening zese flames in the corridors for your friends. They are very good."
Hermione shook her head.
"What are you doing?"
"I am praying..."
"Cut this crap."
Her voice echoed uncomfortably loud through the church, but Hermione found she didn't care.
"You hypocrite! Singing lullabies to your sister, kneeling in a church like a good little girl... and to, to look like you do! Like you look for pity! Like you never did what you did!"
Slowly and still on her knees Fleur turned around.
Her face shone beautiful in the fire light, her hands were pressed onto her thighs.
But her eyes remained lowered.
Hermione shook at her sight.
"When one commits a sin", Fleur said in a quiet voice. "One should repent. And ask for forgiveness."
Hermione released a shaky, bitter laugh.
"Oh! OH REALLY? And who do you ask for it, God?"
"Among ozers. Do I really already deserve to ask for your forgiveness?"
"I deserve an explanation", Hermione replied coldly.
Fleur cringed and lowered her head.
"I lost control -"
"You don't say-"
"I tried! I tried for montzs and montzs... not to come close to you. But then you touched me, when you 'ealed zat wound... for a moment I zought I would loose it right zen. I was in pain for weeks, I got drunk, my body... changed. Do you know 'ow it is? To be forced by your own nature to become oblivious of everyzing and focus on one sole person, a girl zat is fifteen years old...I lost control of the beast in me. It... it took me over... my instincts took over... I didn't know what I was doing anymore, 'ermione..."
"Do you I think I knew what you were doing when you were pinning me to that tree?!"
"Non, non... I just try to make you understand..."
Her voice fainted into frustrated remorse; Hermione hated herself for letting it get to her.
She crossed her arms over her chest. The warmth and and sweet smell emitting from the candles levitating around them clouded her senses...
"So you want me to believe... after what you did to me... that all of this wasn't your fault? That it was the doing of a second consciousness hat just suddenly appeared out of nowhere and made you want to rape me?"
She could see how Fleur flinched at her every word. Her eyes shimmered but then the stone mask Hermione had become so familiar with at he beginning of the year returned to her face.
"It.. I never wanted rape you. You don't understand. You don't understand... even right now... I can 'ardly zink clearly... I feel like I don' know who I am anymore..."
A bitter chuckle emerged from the blond's lips.
"Ze candles 'elp a little."
"The candles? How?"
"Zem and you fire, zey cover your smell."
Hermione forced herself to take a deep breath. The soft broken voice filled her and begged for sympathy. She had to think of the song she had heard earlier by this angelic voice...
Your father, in the great banks of Newfoundland,
Perished one evening in the haze.
My little boy, have mercy on his widow,
Don't go on the cursed water.
But you will soon be a man,
You will laugh at my crazy terror
And you will sail just like
Your older brothers, sailors without fear.
"You were getting so weak... you seemed deadly sick after the second task. But you were quicker than everyone else. And afterward you broke down until you...why?"
Fleur sighed and lowered her head as if she couldn't carry it's weight any longer.
"Water is close to the Veela's nature.. it is where zey first were born. It was were zey were cursed."
Don't go on the cursed water.
But you will soon be a man,
You will laugh at my crazy terror
And you will sail just like
Your older brothers, sailors without fear.
"Why haven't you reported me, 'ermione? Why do you even dare to be 'ere? You should try to be as far from me as you can. I would if zere wasn't a contract binding me 'ere..."
For he first time Fleur raised her head and their eyes met.
A thick lump formed in Hermione's throat from all the paradox feelings arising in her. She was fast to turn away. For a long while she just stared at the levitating candles.
"That was my first kiss you know."
She didn't dare to look at Fleur but the other girl remained silent. It was as though somebody had put the denial she had struggled with for days into her mouth now, like confession forced onto her.
"There was someone interested in me... and now he's so scarred of you he won't even go near me. But I didn't like him like he did, I.. I just felt like finally someone saw me as something different than bookish, noisy Hermione Granger. And then you came and the truth is..."
Her eyes fluttered and she pressed them together. A single tear ran trough her closed lids down her cheek.
"The sick truth is a part of me liked it. Your touch. And I don't know if it is this, this spell, this crazy Veela thing in you or just my own crazy desperation for... for someone to..."
She couldn't speak further.
Angrily she wiped the tears from her cheeks that were now running freely.
How stupid she was. She nearly had to laugh at the hole craziness of the situation when she felt something wet grace her hands and her heart flutter.
When she opened her eyes she saw that Fleur now knelt in front of her, holding her left hand between her own, pressing it to her lips.
She was composed but there were undoubtedly tears moistening the back of her hand.
"Pardonnez-moi"; Fleur whispered softly. "Pardonnez-moi, pour ce que j'ai fait te..."
She kissed her fingers, one after one and finally held it to her cheek and closed her eyes.
"I never meant for you to feel zis way. I never, never meant to do zis."
Hermione stared down at her hand that was pressed to so smooth, cold skin. Slowly she lowered herself down until she was squated in front of the girl.
"Didn't you know? Didn't your mother warn you of all this?"
Fleur sniffed and chuckled weakly.
"Ah, my mozer... my mozer is very proud of ze Veela... as I told you my fazer raised me to be 'uman and 'uman only. I am like you... I want to decide my fate on my own... and I never believed 'er. I never believed it would get so far."
"But you were wrong."
"Qui... I was wrong."
Fleur didn't move anymore. She just remained that way, couched on the floor with Hermione's hand pressed to her cheek. Hermione wondered why on earth she didn't pull away.
"So.. so what do we do about it?"
The question howered in the air like a threat.
Fleur didn't respond.
"Fleur?"
Still no answer.
"Fleur, listen. I need to understand this. If you don' want me to report me, you need to tell me more so we can figure out what to do..."
Silence.
"You need help, Fleur. Do you want to be like that again, actually go through it one day?"
The blond shook her head.
"We need to tell someone. Like Dumbledore.. he will know -"
"'e doesn't. Nobody knows about ze Veela but zemselves. 'e 'as no idea."
"'ow do you that? It's Dumbledore..."
Fleur's face hardened.
"Because 'e already talked to me."
Hermione's eyes widened.
"What did he say?"
"Nozing zat 'elped. 'ermione, I can't tell anybody... If ze word gets out my w'ole family is in danger. Ze laws for creatures are even stricter in my country zen in yours. Ze status of ze Veela 'asn't been changed too long ago... ze consequences... non, I believe I 'ave no choice but to go to zem..."
She wasn't making an sense anymore.
"What are you talking about`? Fleur?"
She moved her hand to her cheek but missed a little and bushed her neck.
Fleur hissed and jumped backward, fell to her fours.
Hermione staggered back in surprise as well.
"Don't do zat", Fleur panted. "You shouldn't touch me..."
Resignated Hermione sat down on the floor while Fleur retreated further back until she had reached the altar again.
Arrived there, breathing heavily, she whispered: "Do not worry. You won't 'ave to bear me much longer."
"What do you mean?"
"Someone.. someone saw us. And now blackmails me for knowledge of the Veela zat I don't 'ave. If zis get's exposed I ma ruin my family forever."
Hermione frowned and thought for a long while. Bits and pieces that had been twirling around in her head for some time now came together forming a clear answer.
"It's Rita Skeeter, isn't it?"
Fleur's eyes snapped open.
"'ow did you know?!", she gasped.
Hermione shrugged. "It seem only logical. She knows of every dirty little secret in these walls. She even found out about Hagrid. What does she want from you?"
Fleur looked at he with the eyes of a drowning person seeing a boat from afar.
"I... i cannot tell you. She 'as me at 'er mercy."
Hermione's frown deepened.
"Fleur, you have to tell me -"
"'ow can you care!", Fleur exclaimed. "'ow can you acre and be so nice after what I've done to you? After learning all zis, after seeing ze creature, 'ow? Why?"
Hermione's lips trembled. Why? she asked herself. Images ran through her head, images of houselves, centaurs, Dobby and Firenze... images of Fleur and her sister and of them both in the library...
she rose to her feet.
"Because I hate the oppression of magical creatures and people in this society. Because no one else seems to notice this. The discrimination among the wizards, the french as well it seems, just repels me. Muggleborns, Veela, house elves.. it just isn't fair."
She had made fists while speaking. It had felt good to speak it out all loud.
"These are two different things. I will bother with your responsibilities, once we have solved this, if you restrain yourself. I warn you... I won't be as helpless as you had me in the forest again. Should you try anything again, I will report you immediately to Dumbledore. But I want to understand first. You have to tell me everything you know, about your country's laws and the Veela. Do you hear me?"
To her shock Fleur had stated to cry again. They were silent tears and the french girl shook her head violently.
"Why do you believe me? 'ow can you believe me like zis?"
Hermione hesitated.
"I.. I see it in your eyes, I guess. I saw your struggle. I see how much you love your sister. I see that you can't be all bad..."
Inhumanly quick Fleur rose to her feet. Faster than the eye she had marched to Hermione, opening her mouth but nothing came out.
She sobbed, smiled,sobbed again.
Hermione didn't know what to do. The wave of determination that had washed over her was gone and again replaced by this bloody confusion.
Finally Fleur shook her head again and grasped Hermione's face in both hands. They burned on Hermione cheeks and her heart, torn in it's feelings, started to race.
Fleur pressed their foreheads together and stroked Hermione's face, who was overwhelmed by that smell again and the warmth. And the fear.
"Le diable envoie-moi un ange", whispered Fleur in her ear.
With that she abruptly let go and pressed something into Hermione's hand.
Than she literally ran out of the church out to the already darkening sky.
Open mouthed Hermione stared after her, before she lowered her gaze to the object in her hand.
It was a silver coin, plain on both sides.
The song I used is a beautiful real french lullaby called Par les chemins creux de la lande
Here is the full translation:
In the hollow paths of the moor,
The black goblins, the werewolves,
In the night, in a saraband
Chase one another like mad.
I hear a noise near the door,
Close your eyes, my little boy
The nasty werewolf takes away
The children who don't sleep.
Sleep, my little man
For near the cradle your mommy
Watches over your light sleep
Till tomorrow, till tomorrow
Sleep.
Your father, in the great banks of Newfoundland,
Perished one evening in the haze.
My little boy, have mercy on his widow,
Don't go on the cursed water.
But you will soon be a man,
You will laugh at my crazy terror
And you will sail just like
Your older brothers, sailors without fear.
Sleep, my little man
For near the cradle your mommy
Watches over your light sleep
Till tomorrow, till tomorrow
Sleep.
Pardonnez-moi, pour ce que j'ai fait te : Forgive me for what I have done to you.
Le diable envoie-moi un ange : The devil send me an angel.