Golden Haze – Interlude Three

AN: I'm glad that everyone enjoyed the previous chapter! This chapter is intended to bridge the gap and provide a little insight into Hermione's feelings about the whole situation.

Music of the Story: Grace Potter and the Nocturnals, Wild Nothing

The Gryffindor common room was filled with the quiet buzz of chatter as Hermione Granger sat in her usual spot at a large study table (tucked in an as out-of-the-way as one can be in a very much circular room) sucking on the end of her quill, trying to think. The parchment in front of her curled off the end of the table across from her despite the fact that it was filled with nothing but simple scribbling and no real thought was being put into what she was writing. It was a free thought exercise – her mother had told her about them years ago when she was still young and having trouble expressing herself. Hermione was trying to figure out what she wanted to do with Fleur Delacour the following evening and also to attempt to sort out what her feelings were regarding the whole matter.

Fleur had told her, in no uncertain terms, that spells could not create emotion – only feed on those that already existed. She knew that this was true on an intellectual level, but that spell that Fleur had used on her was driving her to the point of distraction constantly now. It had gotten worse since she'd gone to see Fleur in the Defense Professor's rooms (a mistake she would most certainly not mind making again). Their encounter then had left Hermione feeling frustrated and heartbroken that Fleur would not simply finish what she had started. Hermione wanted her to finish, had wanted those long fingers with freshly painted nails to press inside her and to take away the ache she could not fix herself.

No. Everything had to be just so – and Fleur had obviously lost control of herself. That was all that there was to it, a simple mistake on her part, a loss of control that she seemed to covet above all other things. Hermione understood that, she understood why Fleur looked at her the way that she did sometimes, with a soft smile and a private understanding that Hermione desperately wished that Fleur Delacour did not have about her character.

Ron Weasley, sitting across the table from Hermione was still slightly purple in the face as he tried to process what she had just told him a few minutes before. She had announced after reaching her third foot of parchment that this exercise was a horrible failure and she couldn't believe that she had actually asked Fleur Delacour out on a date.

She'd done it for many reasons, most than anything else she'd wanted to remove Fleur from the setting of Hogwarts and the wizarding world as a whole to grill her for information about what, exactly, she had meant by 'playing on emotions that were already there' – among other things. She wanted to spend time with her, to get to know her better and to finally get that kiss that she had been denied before.

Finally, after another long pause in which Ron's mental process had clearly progressed into overdrive, he spluttered, "You asked her on a date?" His eyes were wide with disbelief and Hermione felt an air of something that felt a little like pride at the fact that Ron had, at one point, done this as well, but had been turned down.

"Yes, I did, Ronald. What does it matter to you?" She set down her quill and met his incredulous look evenly. She knew why he was upset, but she frankly did not care. Fleur was the one who had been so obviously flirting with her, not the other way around. Fleur was the one who had used that horrible spell that left her without release.

Ron seemed to think for a moment, "It's Fleur!" It was an argument his sister would have made, and had she been around instead of in the library studying with some of the girls in her year. Ginny had never been much of a fan of Fleur, and Hermione had no idea how she was going to tell her closest friend about this rather daring move she had made.

"She's married to Bill for Merlin's sake!" Ron added, waving his arms around and drawing attention from half the common room. Hermione sunk down in her seat as she felt a good thirty pairs of eyes settle on her. She hated being at the center of attention.

"She doesn't wear his ring." Harry said quietly from behind the sports section of the Daily Prophet. He was sprawled across the couch; his sweater was bunched up around his chest due to his constant readjusting of himself. The couch had always been lumpy and Harry really should have known better, Hermione thought as she watched him squirm into a more comfortable position. It was cute really – in a bizarre 'what-on-earth-are-you-doing' sort of way.

Ron gave an exasperated sigh, running his hands through his hair. Hermione had heard him and Ginny, when they thought they were alone, talking about the situation with Bill. Hermione had never understood the wizarding world's obsession with heirs and bloodlines but when it came to continuing the family line even Ron (who cared very little for those who chose to base their lives around such ideals) was very adamant that Bill had to be the one to continue the Weasley line. Bill's marrying Fleur had apparently taken a huge load off his shoulders, as he'd confided to Hermione and Harry during their time together looking for Horcruxes, because he did not want his parents to face a decision about who would be the heir to the family if Bill never married. "That doesn't mean anything Harry."

They all knew he was denying the truth its light. Hermione wasn't an idiot and neither was Harry. Bill Weasley was obviously very close with Fleur, but their relationship was a deep friendship. Hermione had stayed in Fleur's bedroom the previous year when they were at Shell Cottage, none of Bill's things were even in the room.

She sighed, playing for a more logical argument with hopes of reasoning with Ron. It might have been a bad idea to tell him, because they were still trying to settle back into friendship from being near-lovers. It had been going well honestly, up until this whole thing with Fleur started, but now it was starting to get tense and uncomfortable. "Ron seriously, you know what Voldemort was doing, getting all of those laws forced into effect. I wouldn't be surprised of Fleur's veela blood leaves her a fairly second class citizen."

"Fleur Delacour is a lot of things, Hermione, but in need of protection from the likes of S.P.E.-or would it be V.?- W. is not one of them." Ron said, cradling his head in his hands as he tipped his chair backwards. There was a hint of defeat in his voice that one who did not know him as well as Hermione did would not have picked up on. "She really knows her stuff."

"Exactly," Hermione agreed. "Given how smart she is, don't you think that maybe getting married to her best friend was better than being hunted down like some sort of animal?" She folded her arms across her chest and frowned across the table at Ron. Harry was maintaining careful silence, for which Hermione was grateful. She could not fight this battle on two fronts. "I don't see why you lot doubted her."

"Well, I—" Ron stared evenly down at the table as his ears turned an impressive shade of crimson. He was embarrassed.

"She is more than a pretty piece of arse," Hermione was indignant. Both men around her coughed quietly and didn't look at her for a moment. Hermione was smug; she knew that they saw in Fleur what she saw in her – spell or no spell. It was just strange, their non-reaction to her admission of being attracted to a, their professor and b, a woman. She took the lack of reaction to be a good thing, because she did not want to think about either of them having a poor reaction. It cut her as deeply as Bellatrix's knife had, and the thought was quickly banished to the darkest part of her mind that only plagued her in nightmares.

Harry snorted. "You're the one who asked her out, Hermione, not us. Ron got that out of his system years ago."

Ron blushed even more if that was possible, burring his face in his hands and moaning, "Oh! The memories, don't remind me!"

That year had been a horrible one for their friendships, but they had come out of it closer to each other than ever. Harry had been put into a truly horrible position and they had been virtually powerless to help him. He was lucky to still be alive after everything that happened that year – they all were.

It was better now. Voldemort was gone and they could worry about normal problems that eighteen and nineteen year old people had to worry about. Like dating and how horrific she was at it. Hermione laughed. "I have no idea what I'm doing here, really."

"That is painfully obvious by the five feet of parchment you've created in the past two hours brain storming ideas of what you want to do with her. Why not just go to the Three Broomsticks and listen to the match like every other normal person?" Ron said, pulling Hermione's parchment away from her and flipping it over so that he could read it. He raised his eyebrows at a few of the things that she'd written before rolling it up and putting it to the side.

"I don't much care for Quidditch." Hermione muttered, flipping the rest of her papers over and running her hands through her hair. "Besides, it is not sexy. Or sophisticated. Or revenge for her using that spell on me."

Harry raised an eyebrow, sitting up and pulling his sweater back down. He looked a little taken aback, as though he couldn't think of Hermione with a sex drive or something equally bizarre. She was a woman, she had needs that were growing more and more obvious (to Hermione at least) with every passing day. "You're going for sexy?"

"Obviously." She wanted to woo Fleur Delacour, to sweep her off her feet and make her finally commit the loss of control that she had been teetering on the edge of a week before.

Harry gave an elaborate shrug. "I'm staying out of this then." He unfolded his paper and buried himself behind it once again.

Ron shot him a look before saying quite seriously as he leaned across the table towards Hermione. "You should wear that black dress. The one you like so much."

"Thank you Ron, for being helpful." Hermione ran her hands through her hair and shuddered at the idea of having to tame it for a date. It took hours and she hated doing it, she'd never much cared for appearances when her hair was fairly presentable with just a good brush in the morning. It hadn't been, when she was younger and did not care nearly as much as she did now (which was not very much at all), but now it was simply curly and had volume thanks to shampoo that Hermione had figured out how to create with just the supplies from the sixth year potions supply list.

She turned and glared at the smiling face of the star chaser from the English national quidditch team that Harry was hiding behind. Why couldn't he be helpful? He was actually good at this stuff. His green eyes appeared over the top of the paper and he said, quite earnestly, "I'd rather live, Hermione, then suffer the wrath of you not getting this date of yours exactly right."

"Harry Potter, you are so helpful I could scream." Hermione muttered, reaching across the table and pulling the list that Ron had stolen from her back towards her. Fleur had a gramophone in her room, and Hermione had not seen a lot of records. She could take her to that place her father liked so much… they'd just have to go to muggle London to do that.

"Please don't. The first years are too much in awe of us already, I don't want to tarnish their image of us perfect heroes by you throwing a temper tantrum." Harry was good at being glib, but the undercurrent of what he was saying was not lost on Hermione or Ron, as there was a distinct sense of awe that most of their classmates seemed to regard them with now. It was better in their seventh year classes, as those were their peers – the ones who knew them best and had fought in the war. Even the Slytherins (those who had come back) had been far more tolerable than the younger years, who seemed to watch them and hang on their every movement.

"Harry –" Hermione began, not really knowing what to say.

Ron frowned, before adding. "Maybe they need it, Harry."

"I dunno you guys, shouldn't they have their heroes?" Harry shrugged. "Lord knows I did."

"But we shouldn't be putting on airs for them. We should be being ourselves. Maybe if they see that we are normal—" Hermione couldn't stop herself, the words came tumbling out, one after another and Harry and Ron both stared at her as though she had three heads. "What?" she asked.

"You just asked your married Defense Against the Dark Arts professor out on a date." Harry grinned at her from over his paper. "That, is hardly normal."

Hermione frowned, before insisting, "She is very attractive."

Harry grinned, folding up his paper once again. "I will not disagree with you there." He set it down on the uncomfortable couch next to him and said, "Hey Ron, I have an odd question."

"Yeah?" Ron answered, meeting the questioning gaze of Harry quite evenly. Hermione wondered what he was going to ask, as Harry tended to be far more insightful than he let on to be.

"How does the wizarding world as a whole feel about someone like Hermione asking out someone like Fleur?"

Ron bridged his fingers on the table in front of him and Hermione hoped that he would not be too much of a prat about what he was about to say. "In that it's adultery even if it's a sham marriage? Or in the sense that they're both girls?"

Harry got up and joined them at the table. Hermione wondered if their conversation was just a little too loud or if he thought that she deserved more privacy than he ever got from the rest of the common room. The young ones were looking at them behind their books and magazines with overly interested eyes. Hermione wondered if it had bene like this for Harry since he had first started school, but she already knew the answer, and knew that what they were experiencing now was far, far worse. "The second one." Harry said in a far more quiet voice than before.

Ron matched his tone, "No one really cares. It's not encouraged, but if both parties are happy no one minds."

Harry folded his arms across his chest. "Then why is it such a big deal that Bill married a woman?"

Ron threw up his hands, like he couldn't believe that they were going around this topic again. Hermione thought he was acting childish, because this particular aspect of wizarding culture was alien to both herself and Harry, they both did not understand the need for a first-born son to marry and have a child. It seemed an outdated idea, honestly, even for the more traditional wizarding world. "He's the first born – he has to produce an heir even if he is not inclined that way – or he will be disowned according to wizarding law. Mum and Dad were very lenient with him because of the war – but he's twenty eight now and he has to settle down."

"I think that's stupid." Hermione sighed. Bill was obviously very close with Fleur, but it was the sort of closeness that she shared with Harry and Ron. It could be mistaken for romantic love, but at its heart it was strictly platonic and akin to the close connection that siblings shared.

"It is, it's horrible, but it's the law." Ron agreed.

Hermione folded her hands primly across the table and said in as earnest a tone as she could with her face cracking into a bright smile. "Then we should change the law."

"I…" Ron looked at her, clearly flabbergasted.

"I plan on changing the law, Ronald." Hermione continued in her best politician voice. "Because the law is wrong."

"Go Hermione go!" Harry used his wand to create some confetti to go along with his cheering.

Hermione grinned at him. They were getting off topic, and she did need help with this brilliantly stupid date she'd asked Fleur Delacour out on. "So. What should I do for this date?"

They put their heads together and began to plan.