I'm not dead! YAY!

Apologies for the lack of updates. It's been a hectic year in general. I swore to myself I'd crank a new chapter out before my birthday, so here I am! Enjoy! :D

Chapter 11

A Day in the Life of Fleur Delacour

It was still dark when Fleur rose from the bed. Their bed. Considering the fact that Hermione still lay curled on her bed under the wine-colored blanket, it may as well be considered as such.

She reached to touch her lover and found her flesh bare and cold. "It seems I have hogged the blanket again," muttered Fleur. "Fair is fair. I am nearly falling off the bed."

She summoned her wand and waved a nonverbal command. The sleek fabric peeled itself off Fleur and draped across Hermione's bare form. Fleur reached to check again and felt glad to find her lover warming up. She planted a firm kiss on Hermione's temple and stood up. She summoned her bathrobe from the darkness of the room. The fine-threaded fabric proceeded to cover her, one sleeve at the time. Wand firmly in hand, she slipped out of the bedroom gingerly and waved on the lights.

Fleur stared at her work desk with a slight sense of dread. Her work desk was filled with spare inkwells and tombs and parchments, more than half of which were filled with notation about hexes and anti-theft spells.

If not more sleep was to be had tonight, then at least some work was going to get done, she drilled into herself.

Just the mere action of her sitting on the chair sent everything scattering to life. A cap popped open and a quill dipped into the inkwell. An empty parchment unfurled before her. The motions were hectic, yet noiseless. Everything was ready faster than Fleur could settle into the chair and say "newts". She had Hermione to thank for the charm. Perhaps a kiss as thanks? Maybe later, once she rose for work.

Fleur began her note with a diagram of the vault's inner workings, adding notations about renovations, illusions, and spikes. Real spikes, her quill added as it sounded her thoughts. Whatever was in the vault, through the dragons, 16 different hexes, a charmed box and many of its illusionary replicates, and now additional mazes and spikes, must be quite precious. Then again, it was not her business to know the details about the treasure itself, just the things that are likely to kill the thieves along the way to it.

The notes from her former colleges aren't of much help. She had tried to peruse through them before, with no great success. The general details were written simply, in plain English meant for simply anyone to understand. The deeper details of a more classified type were coded and the general theme of the code seemed to revolve around watching and being watched.

"What in Merlin's trunk is a 'CCTV'?" Fleur furrowed her brows.

She summoned a tome concerning hexes and searched for the word through the glossary. Nothing. Through another, now about charms, and still nothing even remotely related to the word came up.

Fleur sighed. She added a note to herself. "This man clearly had not intended to die so soon. Otherwise his notes would have some kind of a cypher attached," wrote her quill. "That would make my life much easier."

A voice came from the bedroom. "Are you awake?"

"Yes, ma chérie," Fleur called, turning in her chair. "Right here."

Warmth came and enveloped her from behind. Hermione snuggled close to her ear, lips brushing playfully at it. "The bed is cold without you," she whispered, her breath minty from the morning brush. Leave it to a dentist's daughter to brush her teeth first thing in the morning.

Fleur patted her lap and Hermione promptly took her place on Fleur's firm legs. She hugged the younger woman close, her head light with happiness.

"What do you want to do, now that you are awake?" Fleur said into Hermione's hair.

"Hmm…" Hermione began groggily. "Some food first, then some intimate time in the shower."

Fleur wasn't sure if the thudding feeling she felt in her chest was her own or Hermione's. Nevertheless, she ran her hand along Hermione's bare thigh and teased her way up Hermione's parted legs. The dripping wetness she found near her lover's folds made something inside her stir.

Fleur smiled into the younger woman's hair. "How about we go shower now?"

"Harry! Ron! Welcome."

Before her stood Harry and Ron, who both shifted uncomfortably in their clothes from the warming afternoon weather. Ron mumbled into his hand-knit scarf, undoubtedly another one of Molly Weasley's handiworks. "Hope we're not disturbing or anything."

Fleur motioned her wand to lock the bedroom door, where Hermione's belongings were likely to be found, and stepped aside from the door. She took turns to kiss their cheeks as they step in. "No such thing, Ron. Harry. Come on in. Tea?"

"Tea?" Ron's eyebrows shot up. "Gone native, have you? Have you got bickies with that?"

Fleur found it hard to not like Ron's ability to feel right at home anywhere. "I only have Earl Grey. And no, sadly."

"We're here for a job, Ron," said Harry, settling onto the sofa, before further remarking "…Not that tea wouldn't be lovely."

Fleur was already waving her kettle ready for the stove and preparing the cups. "Please. It is not often I get to see old friends. Sit down."

Harry smiled while trying his best to keep his professional composure. "We're here on Ministry business, actually."

"I heard. Is this regarding Umbro Horliner?

"Yes, actually. We heard that you had decided to take on one of his vaults."

"Five of them," Fleur corrected. "All high-security."

Ron briefly glanced at his notepad before motioning this information in with his wand.

Fleur waved her wand again towards the kitchen. "But one does stand out in particular, so you are not wrong in that sense."

"Is there anything you can tell us about that vault's contents? Aside from the box that it came with. Gringotts has already informed us about that."

Three cups of tea emerged from the kitchen before placing themselves before the three. "I am afraid I cannot tell you anything specific about the vault's contents. Only Mr. Horliner knew and he was bound a magical contract to never speak of it until the vault is to be passed to someone else."

Ron's frowned. "And he never got to do the last part."

"Yes. So I do not know what is in it."

Harry stirred his tea. "That's fair. So might you know if whatever's in the vault is important? Important enough to kill someone over?"

"Considering the security measures, it must be pretty important."

"Are you also contractually bound to not speak of it?"

"Yes. And I would rather not have some goblins come after me with Merlin-knows-what, if you two do not mind."

"Well, technically you can't speak of it. The spell doesn't really dictate that you can't write it down."

"Nice magical loophole," grinned Harry.

Fleur's eyes narrowed at the two Aurors. "I hope you two do not have any funny ideas about breaking into another vault."

Ron laughed. "Oh, no. Of course not. We're Aurors now. And we're not tracking down a no-nosed dark lord's soul so we can destroy it this time around."

Harry snickered at this, before correcting himself. "But we have reasons to believe that the man that we have arrested for Mr. Horliner's murder might have an accomplice."

"Oh?"

"Aye," added Ron, who was already sipping his tea. "'Cause the man isn't nearly smart enough to plan something like a murder. Just a hired wand to get information."

Fleur glanced at her work desk, where the majority of her work lay. "Do you two believe that the vault might be compromised?"

Harry shook his head. "We have no reason to believe so. But someone is still out there and they might still be trying to get to whatever is in the vault through getting to a curse maker. Has Gringotts informed the vault's owner?"

"I have been told that we have tried, but he could not be reached," said Fleur. "I would like to talk to him myself. He should know about something like this."

Ron groaned. "Goblins sure are comforting in that regard, aren't they? A constant pissing match between us and the lot. Last few weeks has been pretty much a 'No, we can't tell you the owner's name. Bugger off, damn Aurors'. I don't know how you can work with them."

A power struggle with goblins was something Fleur could relate to personally. She laughed at Ron's open frustration and remarked: "I work from home, that is how. Else I would be driven insane."

Harry grinned, knowing full well how frustrating dealing with goblins can be. "Speaking of which, why don't you live in a wizarding neighborhood? You would be far safer. This is a muggle one, as far as I can tell."

Fleur stared at her tea for a moment. The steam proved to be fairly soothing. "I had tried that for a period of time and decided that I did not like it," she remarked. "You two should understand this better than anyone. After the Triwizard Tournament and my small part in the War, I just want to be left alone and not have anyone ask me anything about anything. Just alone and anonymous."

Ron shrugged. "I don't mind the attention from time to time. It's a nice ego boost."

It seemed as if Harry was trying his best not to roll his eyes. "Just admit it, Ron. You love it."

"Maybe a little." Ron shrugged again, meekly. "Hermione feels differently. Likes her privacy and all that. She lives around here too, I heard."

Fleur stiffened. She glanced at Harry and found him as surprised as she was to hear Ron mention Hermione. "Yes, she does."

"Do you see her around often, then? How is she doing?"

"She looks well whenever I see her." Which, Fleur graciously omitted, is quite often. "Are you worried?"

"Sure. She's still a friend, even after we broke up."

Harry quipped. "Like I said before, just talk to her."

"And say what? 'I'm sorry for having been such a dickish boyfriend?'" Ron groaned into his open hands. "I don't think she'd like to see my mug much."

Fleur kept quiet. Ron hadn't been appearing as a subject of conversation between her and Hermione. It wasn't entirely clear how Hermione felt about Ron now. Full of animosity? As a friend? Or was there still something lingering in Hermione's mind in regards to Ron? As a friend, Hermione and Ron mending their friendships was a welcomed prospect. But as Hermione's lover, Fleur felt jealousy clawing its way into her mind and felt petty for it.

Ron snapped out of the topic on his own. "Say, Fleur. How have you been? Mum misses you during family dinners."

"I have been fine. And it is not like I can show up there… After the divorce."

Harry frowned, but left the topic alone for Ron to continue.

"I know. But Bill hasn't been coming around the house lately. I'm not totally happy about you two splitting just like that either…" Ron rubbed his nose crudely, restraining himself from speaking out the rest of his thoughts. "Still, it's just a little different without you around. It'd just be nice to have everyone together just like old times again. We should hang on to whoever we still have with us, right?"

Harry seemed to agree at this. "Ron's got a point, Fleur. It's really not the same without you."

Fleur smiled, her heart warmed. This was as straightforward as she was going to get from the young Weasley. She beamed at Ron like family no longer in name, but still in heart. "You are right, Ron. The next chance I get. I promise."

Fleur got up from her desk to greet Hermione with a kiss. "I missed you. And Harry and Ron came over today."

"I missed you too. For their investigation?"

Fleur nodded.

The younger woman tensed in her arms. "Is something wrong? Are you in some kind of danger?"

"The man who murdered Mr. Horliner might have an accomplice. It is not beyond the realm of possibility that all this involves one of the vaults somehow. …Don't frown like that." Fleur kissed between Hermione's furrowed eyebrows, soothing her worry. "But that is not why I mentioned this. Ron asked me about you."

"Oh? And?"

"That is pretty much the most of it. He wondered how you are doing."

Hermione scoffed. "If he's that worried, he can just come to my desk and ask. We do work in the same place."

"He is probably too scared to," Fleur offered, not purely out of speculation. Hermione was a formidable witch, the kind that one would get an unshakable urge to run away from during the type's angry outbreak.

Hermione seemed amused. "Scared of me, a desk clerk?"

"And possibly the brightest witch I know."

"Now you're just flattering me." Flattery or not, it indeed was working. The younger woman, previously riled up by the topic, seemed to calm down right before her.

Fleur kissed her lover's nose gingerly. "I am not the flattering type. You know me."

"And you don't feel threatened in any way that an ex of mine is concerned for me? And asked you, my lover, about me?"

Fleur grimaced at Hermione's surprising directness. "Of course I am. But I want to think better of Ron, that he is not such a petty man to let this come between your friendships. Besides, he does not appear to know about us. If he is keen on repairing your friendship with him, then I do not want to keep you away from an old friend."

"Very sweet of you." Hermione held Fleur close. Fleur savored the innocent warmth. "I'll talk to him once I get the chance. But if he tries anything funny, I promise I will shoot him down."

Fleur chuckled. "If he does try anything funny, I hope you will."

They laughed the topic aside and began the preparation of their meal. They would typically eat out on such a day, but it was Hermione who insisted on eating in. Perhaps the younger woman, too, felt the urgency of Valerie's caution. Even so, Valerie had been tactless in terms of confronting Hermione yesterday.

Digging her fork into the cheese omelet prepared by Hermione's spell work, Fleur watched her lover. Hermione seemed work-worn, but not unhappy. Her eating manner was one of enthusiasm, which was a welcomed change by both. Perhaps Fleur was worrying too much about too many things. Rita Skeeter, work, Umbro Horliner, and now Ron. For some unknown reasons, many things were entering their lives all at once.

'We'll get through this,' Fleur coaxed herself back to a state of calmness and focused instead on the omelet.

...

The graveyard was dark and cold, but Valerie cared not. She was knelt before a particular tombstone, its sculpting simple by design and the soil underneath freshly turned and barren of grass. In her hand was single flower, a purple iris with two blade-shaped foliage.

"I apologize, sir. I should have come sooner. …I should have just came England after graduation. I should have never left."

Valerie's jaw tightened at her words, distraught that she had just offered such a personal sentiment to a dead man. She knew fully that no words of apologies or regret would bring him back and soon felt foolish.

Instead of words of more regret, she said: "I know you are there."

And indeed someone was. A cloaked figure stepped into view from behind a tree's shadow. Valerie stood and stared right at the man just mere twenty steps before her.

"I see you are still going with the whole 'Man in the Iron Mask' look."

Iron creaked as he talked. "And I see that immigration has been loose, considering a half-assed information broker like you are crawling about on English soil."

Valerie scoffed. "Witches are not bound by some trivial muggle laws."

The cloak shifted as the man seemed to shrug. "Eh. Muggle, mudblood. Close enough."

An angry Veela was not a sight to behold. The beak and the pair of scaled wings only told half of the story. The single most terrifying thing about a Veela was the fireballs, scorching and terrible in its destruction. Valerie's own fireballs had already burned through her thick motorcycle glove, slowly taking form.

"Don't. You. Insult. MY FAMILY!"

The loudness of Valerie's roar proved to be nowhere as penetrating as the roar of the flames as they zoomed from her hands. But damaging as they were, they simply rebounded against the hooded man's cloak. The returned fireballs hit Valerie squarely in the chest and tore through her Shield Charm. The transformed Veela was sent flying.

Iron creaked as an obscene laughter sounded across the graveyard. The man's cloak flashed blue from where the fireballs had hit. "And the monster reveals her true colors! I never knew what he saw in you, the dumb bastard."

Valerie pulled her wand from her torn leather suit and staggered to her feet. Pure anger had numbed her to the pain and her slowly leaking life. The pair of beaks gritted, slowly croaking out: "That 'dumb bastard' was your father, Marc Horliner."

The man called Marc shook his head in feigned sadness. "Not anymore."

In the cloaked man's hand was a wand. It pointed squarely at her. With her Shield Charm torn to shreds, Valerie acted with her final once of desperation and closed her eyes. She thought hard of Fleur.

Before the spell had made contact with her, she was gone with a pop.

The faint pop and a thud sent Fleur bolting from Hermione's lap. The older woman readied her wand and aimed at the intruder. But what she found on the floor was not what she was expecting. One, she had expected a human and not a scaled, bird-human form she knew all too well. Two, Fleur had not expected blood. Then the scorched marks and the smell of charred flesh hit Fleur and filled her gut with dread.

From the crumpled form, a familiar voice greeted her. "I knew you two would still be awake."

Fleur saw Hermione's wand hand held steady, even at such a sight. She had not expected anything different from her war-hardened lover. But this was not a moment for steeled determination to blast the intruder aside. She gently touched her lover's wrist and brought the wand's tip down. "I know you are surprised, but she is not an enemy."

To show this, Fleur cast Vulnera Sanentur the form. At first-cast, the bleeding seemed to have stopped. She turned back to Hermione with a grim sense of determination. "If you can find some dittany from my trunk, that would be wonderful."

Hermione's eyes held questions, but she promptly nodded and readied her wand at the large trunk by Fleur's work desk. "Accio, dittany."

Fleur knelt by the form and cast another helping of Vulnera Sanentur. "What happened, Valerie? Who did this?"

Valerie's beak quivered as she replied faintly. "I got my fireballs handed to me."

Hermione uncorked the essence of dittany and handed the bottle to Fleur, who applied a few drops over the freshly mended wound. The younger woman watched Fleur intently, making sense of what was unfolding before her. The smell of blood made it tough for her as clear thoughts was being clouded by unpleasant memories of a time wished gone.

Valerie turned her head to face Hermione. "Do you know what this is?"

Fleur shot her cousin down instantly. "This is not the time or the place."

"It is now or never, dear cousin." Valerie barked back, spurred on by pain. "If she does love you, she deserves to know."

"A Veela transformation," came Hermione's matter of fact reply.

Valerie seemed to nod. "Does this terrify you, Ms. Granger? Do you want to run?"

Hermione sighed before placing her hand on Valerie's scaled shoulder, just before where a wing grew. "I don't care about any of that. Just stop talking and save your strength. You still need to rest."

Hermione could feel the scales shifting and retracting. The beaks, to, seems to slowly change into a more human countenance. The pair of now more human lips seemed to smile before them.

Before Valerie's consciousness completely faded, she uttered "Cousine… Je me suis trompé .J'approuve…"

Hermione now obtains Valerie's Seal of Approval! -Fanfares-