Sorry for the delay. Uni life hasn't exactly been going well. Not to mention that my 1 TB external hard drive crashed on me last month and the draft for this chapter had made way towards data heaven. At least I'm finally 20 now. Yay much?

Now that I think about it, there are no canon first names for Mr. and Mrs. Granger. The hell?

Finals in 10 days. FML.

Charmed

Chapter 10

Two Idiots, One Cynic, and a Skeeter

All squeaky clean and dressed up, Hermione was ready for the dinner as she was ever going to be. She was fronting a mirror to gussy herself up before the telephone rang.

There were only two people who would contact Hermione through a land line.

"Hello, Mum."

Hermione spoke into the phone receiver with panted breath. With the all clothes piling in her bedroom, hurriedly navigating from her bedroom to the kitchen counter proved to be almost life-threatening.

Sure enough, it was her mother. "You finally answered your phone for once, young lady."

"Witches don't usually use phones, Mum," replied Hermione. "How are you?"

That got her mother laughing. "I'm fine, your father's fine, the clinic's fine. You're the child here. No need to fuss," her mother teased. "Have you been eating well?"

Hermione grinned proudly to herself, like a child who had just finished a plate-full of vegetables. "Yes. I've been eating proper meals and everything."

"Well, that's a surprise." The elder Granger woman faked a gasp. "Someone must be force feeding you."

"…Something like that." Hermione paused, adjusting her hair guiltily. Without Fleur's constant reminder, Hermione might have forgotten to eat her meals entirely. "Actually, I met someone a bit back."

"And you didn't call home squealing about it? Tsk tsk."

Hermione groaned into the plastic receiver. "You know I'd never do that, Mum. The squealing bit, I mean."

"And you're happy? It sounds like he's taking good care of you."

Hermione suppressed an overwhelming urge to correct her mother. To tell her that her little girl was seeing a woman. A woman who, to be completely honest, wasn't completely human. But that heavy of a topic was hardly proper for a phone conversation. Her parents deserved better. After all that she had put them through, of course they did. Instead, she forced out "That's right. I'm on my way to his place right now."

"When will I get to see him?"

"Mum! We just started going out! And I have to go right now. I'm running late."

"So do I. I have to close up the office. Your father really should learn how to cook by this point. It doesn't take a genius to do it. To think that we're both doctors, with LDS certificates and everything."

"You know no one can beat your cooking."

"Oh, one shouldn't be so smug. But I'd like to think that my cooking is pretty darn good. Now, run along to your boyfriend."

"Alright, Mum. Sorry I can't stay and talk. And I'll try to come home more often."

"Don't worry too much about it. Just focus on what needs to be done." Then her tone grew more serious. "I know you'll do the right thing, darling. You always do."

"Thanks, mum. Take care. Love you."

"Love you too, darling."

One day, she would go back home and have a proper talk with them. About Fleur, about herself. One day.

Valerie's eyes had the tendencies to wander out of paranoia. An occupational hazard, really. She knew better than to be sitting at a wall seat, at a table slightly off-center to the entrance. The restaurant, after all, was Muggle-own and any willy-nilly attempt at her life by her 'colleagues' would be well-met by the Ministry's finest.

Suddenly, a man appeared. His broad shoulders blocked Valerie's view to the entrance.

Valerie curtly shot at the man. "Sorry, but I am waiting for someone."

The muggle man retreated quickly, but with an unfocused, Veela-thralled look in his eyes. He was leaving only for a chance to strike again, no doubt. His poise as he leaned against the bar counter not-so-subtly alluded to his persistent nature. Under other circumstances she might have not so openly glared at the man. She might even have obliged herself. The fact that one never ran out of bed warmers was one of the advantages of being part-Veela. And Valerie certainly took her share of bed warmers, being a healthy adult that she was. They were there. She was free. So why not?

She tried to let Fleur in on this little 'fun', in hope that it will loosen the stick her cousin had jammed in tightly into her rear. No such luck, of course. It was a surprise to her that Fleur was even in some sort of intimate relationship with someone at this point, especially with someone so plain.

Then again, Fleur had always seemed to be waiting for someone. Even during her marriage with that Weasley man she had seemed to still be waiting. No wonder Fleur had seemed different to Valerie when she saw her cousin again. Gone was the foggy, far-gone look in her eyes.

Hermione Granger. What a drab little girl she was. It made Valerie groaned to think that the goody-two shoe was the one Fleur had been waiting for.

"Speak of the Devil. There they are."

Fleur threw a sidelong glance towards the wooden bar counter, over the swooned man with an intense case of rape eyes aimed towards Valerie. "A restaurant with a bar area," said Fleur, smirking. "I should have figured as much."

Valerie raised her glass of Southern Comfort over the rocks. "Why deny yourself the little pleasures in life? But before we order food, spirits!"

A waiter came swooping at the French dark-blonde's beckon, notepad and menus at the ready. "Would you like something, Hermione?" The thick French accent rolled from Valerie's tongue inhibited. In her mind, Hermione had bet a pound against herself that it wasn't Valerie's first glass.

"Um…" Hermione looked at Fleur, who gave her a vague look that said 'Just go along with it'. She fingered the alcoholic beverages section of the menu for a moment. "…I guess I'll have a pint of Guinness."

"Fleur?"

Fleur fortified herself. "A glass of Noilly Prat. That. Is. All."

Valerie visibly pouted. "I know you can drink more."

"Yes, but someone has got to carry you home."

Once their drink orders were settled, they quickly placed their order for food. The waiter dismissed himself quickly.

"Do not tell me you came all this way to London just to get some bourbon."

Valerie snickered. "Of course not." She then turned to Hermione, eyes glinted with bourbon and conspiracy. "Is she this grouchy in bed?"

Hermione's mouth gaped in shock. Wait, what?

Fleur quickly responded, her face stoical. "If you were that curious, you would have already found out."

"It is what I do best." Valerie smirked, cradling her half-filled glass.

Hermione watched the interaction between cousins in disbelief. They acted as if a landmine had not been dropped just mere seconds ago. Rather, it was as if the cousins had put a picnic blanket right over the landmine and decided to stop for a cup of tea and share a quick skim-through of their sexual 'adventures'.

But Fleur seemed to be used to this kind of glib from her cousin. They were cousins, after all. And close ones at that. Between the two, the conversation never missed a beat. "So why leave the lucrative market in Spain to come here?"

Valerie's face quickly turned prim and businesslike. Hermione's first impression of the woman was back again. She had that grim glint behind her dark eyes, the kind that would not hesitate to put a second curse on a dying man. Her gut feeling told her to never make this woman mad. At this point, her gut was just stating the obvious.

"I'm here to warn your girlfriend. Someone in London is doing some 'unpleasant business' for Rita Skeeter."

This tidbit of information made Hermione's blood chill. A corner of Hermione's eye twitched at the woman's name, wiping away her previous sense of awkwardness. She knew the journalist was bound to come looking for revenge eventually. "Anything she does is unpleasant." gritted Hermione.

"Of course," said Valerie matter-of-factly. "I hear you two have been at each other's throat for a while."

Fleur frowned. Rita Skeeter was nothing but trouble for everyone. Just a mention of her upsets Hermione. Fleur reached towards Hermione, her hand covering Hermione's tightly curled knuckles. Angry? Annoyed? Fleur wasn't sure. An enraged Hermione was not something Fleur wanted to get used to. But she knew this problem had to go. "What is she up to?"

"She wants a round of mudslinging. But not her usual, nonsensical kind. She wants something that hurts."

Fleur grew curious. "How are you so sure?"

"My 'colleagues' like to boast. That unpleasant woman paid quite a large sum, so this information had reached many ears. I had a feeling that Fleur was caught up in it somehow, so I came here. According to Gabby, you two made contact."

Fleur felt Hermione's inquisitive look settling on her. "I told her that we met again. I did not mention us after."

"Gabby is a smart girl. She figured something has happened and brought it to my attention. You did sound unusually happy."

Hermione's temper only kept soaring. "If that bitch wants me, she can come and get it. But Fleur's got nothing to do with this."

"But you love her, yes?"

Unable to restrain her anger, Hermione glared. "Of course I do."

Valerie smiled grimly. "Then she has everything to do with it. That is why I'm here."

Hermione's slumped ever so slightly, resigned to a special kind of guilt. Because of her, Skeeter had the power to rope Fleur into this sick revenge plot. Their dinner arrived, but neither Fleur nor Hermione felt inclined to indulge themselves. Their mouths felt dry and tasted of bile.

Still not touching her food, Hermione said "So you're here to protect Fleur?"

Valerie seemed as if she had been waiting for that line and frowned openly at it. "That unpleasant woman wants an expose. The relationship between you two is the perfect fuel for her."

"I'm not ashamed of anything I have with Fleur."

Valerie chided her for missing the point. "The point is to not give her anything she can use against you."

"Just in case she twists it out of proportion?"

"Exactly. And do not say it like you do not know it already. It will change things. She can easily brand you two as deviants and it will be over. Career, family, people. And she won't stop at just that. She will ruin you."

"Let her try! I don't intend to hide!"

"Are you going to make it easier for her instead? That is exactly what you are doing."

As much as Hermione hated to admit it, Valerie was right. It grew harder to tell if the woman was there to warn them or provoke her.

"We can tell the Ministry than she's an Unregistered Animagus," suggested Hermione. The punishment for being Unregistered was a trip to a cozy little island called Azkaban, after all.

Valerie, of course, had considered this. "She registered recently. 4 months ago. Of course, bribery was involved. Apparently she's looking into other lines of work."

"Pfft. 'Work'. Some other lines of drivel, more like."

Valerie seemed to agree. "Biographies, technically. But, yes, drivel. She would not come after you unprepared."

Fleur endearingly adopted a one-tracked mind and interjected to get the conversation on-topic. "What can we do?"

Valerie counted the ways with her slim, primly manicured fingers. "Do not meet each other in public… Do not be affectionate in public."

"We do not do that to begin with," retorted Fleur.

Valerie seemed amused by this. Motioning downwards to under the table, she said "Why are you still holding her hand, then?"

Fleur's face tightened. The gentle rubbing of Fleur's thumb along Hermione's paled knuckles stopped dead.

"Hermione." Valerie finished the last of the bourbon. She set down the glass with an uncharacteristic calmness, and by that alone she seemed to turn the restaurant a degree lower. Hermione shifted uncomfortably at being directly addressed. When her gaze rose to meet Valerie's, she saw bared teeth. That enraged animalistic smile, it was only for Hermione alone. It was beyond reasonable doubt that this woman was telling her all of this not for her sake. "If anything happens to Fleur because of you, I am holding you responsible."

If wasn't as if Hermione had not seen this coming. After all, she was the source of this problem. She was the one who had not ended it while she could. Crushing the transformed Rita Skeeter at that time would have been so easy. It would have been low of her, to stoop to murder. Yet morality prevailed and she chose not to. Nonetheless, the words had hurt. They were so full of blame, of hate. She was accustomed to being disliked, to not quite fit in anywhere, but never full blown hate.

If only she could change it all.

"Valerie!" hissed Fleur.

But Valerie flipped the table, addressing Fleur now. In a fluent stream of French, she asked "Do you still insist on being with her? Rita Skeeter has a score to settle with her."

"Enough! That's precisely why I have to be with her!"

"And play the hero, dear cousin? I've always taken you for a romantic, but this is absurd."

"I love her. Just how clear do I have to be?"

"But does she love you? As much as you do her?"

This prompted Fleur to pause. How Valerie had implied manipulation on Hermione's part enraged her. There were times when Hermione's eyes flitted with uncertainty of what to come, but never deception. In fact, Hermione's insistence on absolute transparency regarding their relationship bordered on suicide. It was as if self-preservation had never crossed the brunette's mind.

Finding herself at a sudden bout of peace, she could not suppress happiness from her face. The answer that Valerie sought from Fleur had been there all along, clear as day. "…Yes. Yes, she does."

"Hermione. Do you love Fleur?"

"Yes," retorted Hermione, having had just about enough of Valerie's gall. The pint of foamy stout, now empty, was also working its effects on her empty stomach. "Just what kind of stupid are you to even have to askme that?"

Stripped of the previous icy façade, Valerie's face fell into her waiting palms. She groaned loudly into it, causing several heads to turn towards their direction. But, in their own separate world, they cared not for the curious glances. Finally, the dirty blonde broke her stream of verbal frustration and said "Merde… I give up. You two really are a cheesy pair of idiots."

Hermione took in the remark with much amusement. "Idiots, are we? How cynical," she mocked.

Fleur nodded at Hermione's insistence. "And possibly bitter."

Valerie winced. "Stop tag-teaming me. Let us eat. The food is cold."

The three women parted soon after eleven. Back at Fleur's place, Hermione and Fleur slumped into the sofa as soon as they arrived.

Scooping Hermione into her arms, Fleur groaned. "What a day."

Hermione had other things besides complaints in mind. "Fleur… I'm…I'm really sorry."

"Hermione." The silver-blonde whispered into Hermione's locks. "It is not your fault."

Hermione stared into the darkness of Fleur's living room, barely suppressing her tears. "This shouldn't happen. I don't know why she's coming after me now. I thought I had made sure that she'll leave me alone."

Cradling Hermione gently, Fleur then whispered the purest truth. "No matter what happens, we will be OK."