A/N Sorry for those of you the last chapter upset. It will get better.
Chapter 21 - Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word
Hermione rolled over and let out a pained groan. Her head was positively pounding. She cracked her eyes open to find out why her world was trembling. A blurry hand swam into vision, thrusting a hangover cure at her. She groaned again. Logically she knew that the hangover potion would make her feel better, but the very thought of having to move made her want to vomit. She took a deep breath, forced herself to sit up and instantly regretted it as her nausea grew tenfold. Taking the offered potion (which the owner of the hand had very thoughtfully unstoppered for her), she pressed it to her lips and tried not to tip her head as she sucked the potion down.
Almost instantly her world came into focus. Hermione cast her eyes around the room and suppressed a third groan as they fell on Professor McGonagall. She looked down quickly and was relieved to see that not only was she still fully clothed and had no visible feathers, she was sitting on the couch in the Head of House's study. Clearly there had been a different kind of party last night than the ones Fred and George usually had in the Gryffindor common room. Professor McGonagall gave her a reassuring smile. "First hangover, Miss Granger?" she asked her student, while she tried not to smirk at the irony. Hermione, on the other hand, just stared back at her Professor with wide, somewhat glassy eyes as she replayed the night's events in her head. McGonagall walked to her desk and picked up a fresh towel indicating to one of the many doors to her study, "You would benefit from a shower, Miss Granger. I have already asked Dobby to get some clean clothing for you. We will talk when you are done." Hermione nodded and got up onto unsteady feet, pausing before stumbling over to the indicated door. "Hermione," Professor McGonagall called out. The tired young witch turned to the Professor with an eyebrow raised, which Minerva privately found amusing, "Do remember to brush your teeth, dear, your breath smells like Sybil Trelawney!" she told her young charge. Hermione gaped, more than a little mortified at the entire situation, and fled through the door.
Thirty minutes, a lot of hot water and a short but much-needed cry later, Hermione stepped back into Professor McGonagall's study. The Professor sat at her desk pouring tea into two china teacups. She set down the old English teapot and waved a cup and saucer in Hermione's direction. The young witch accepted it from her Head of House with relatively steady hands. "Thank you Professor," she said as she took the seat at the other side of the desk. Hermione tentatively sipped the steaming hot tea and considered the situation. She just could not shake the feeling that she was somehow in trouble with the Head of House. Logically, she knew that she had done nothing wrong, exactly - she wasn't counting the snoot full she'd had to drink last night, mainly because it would not have occurred to her to drown her sorrows unless Professor had not suggested it first - but the feeling in her gut refused to shift. Hermione set her teacup on the desk with a soft clink and absentmindedly ran her fingers through her still damp hair, unable to make eye contact with her Professor, who in turn was studying Hermione with an unreadable expression.
"Hermione..." Professor McGonagall began and then paused, waiting for some sign that the Gryffindor was listening. Suddenly, Hermione found herself unable to lift her gaze or acknowledge that the Professor had spoken to her. The clever young witch felt as though she had been asked a question and not only did she not know the answer, but she could not even figure out what the damn question was! She felt her cheeks burn and took a deep breath as though bracing for a body blow. Her anxiety-ridden state did not go unnoticed by McGonagall who inwardly cursed herself. Perhaps she should have let Rolanda handle it - after all, she had always been much better with the emotional side of things. They had discussed it late last night after Hermione had poured her heart out to them over Fleur and their argument, between great, heaving sobs and snotters. Rolanda had campaigned quite vigorously to be allowed to speak with a sober Hermione, to explain to her some of the intricate webs woven by the female heart, however Minerva was quite protective whenever it came to her cubs and doubly so when it came to this particular one. She had decided it was best handled herself. Rolanda had only frowned in response.
Hermione reminded Minerva far too much of herself as a teenager - advanced beyond her years and top of the class at almost every subject – the exception being, of course, affairs of the heart. She understood what it was like to be completely clueless when it came to love, lust and the minefield that was teenage relationships. She had wanted to spare Hermione from this but it seemed that as the old saying goes, the best laid plans of goblins and wizards... The one thing that she could do for Hermione was to be there in moments like last night, and advise her tactfully how to fix it. The rest was up to Hermione herself. Minerva was pulled from her thoughts and brought back to the matter at hand by Hermione's soft sigh. The Professor uncharacteristically got up from her seat and joined her cub on the other side of the table. She sat beside Hermione and took the small hand in her own. Minerva made a conscious effort to soften her voice as she spoke. "Hermione, from what you told me last night it is clear that your biggest mistake with Fleur was that you did not fully grasp why she was upset, and that in fact caused her to become more upset," Minerva paused for a minute before continuing. "I made a similar mistake when I was not too much older than you. Now, I know that this is going to be hard to hear but dear, you were wrong and you need to apologise." Minerva squeezed Hermione's hand as she said it and when Hermione opened her mouth to defend herself, Minerva silenced her cub with a pointed look that brooked no argument. "I know that you are not used to being wrong, but one thing that you should probably learn if you are going to continue this relationship with Fleur is that where you are driven by logic, Fleur is driven by a far more unpredictable beast: emotion. You cannot predict when it is going to possess her and cause her to become upset the way she was last night. All you can do is find the root of it, try to deal with it and above all, apologise and reassure."
Hermione mulled this over for some time, still holding the Head of House's hand but taking a couple of sips from her tea as she considered what she had been told. She knew that Fleur would not have been upset with her for no reason so she replayed the whole argument once more. The reason hit her brain like a bludger to the head! She groaned once again. Minerva could see that the knut had dropped and she offered her cub another reassuring smile. "Have a biscuit, Hermione, I am sure that this situation can be... salvaged." The Professor told Hermione, quite proud that she had figured it out without actually having it spelled out to her. She got up and walked around to the other side of the desk to pull a biscuit tin out of her drawer, offering it to Hermione who, not wanting to appear rude although not entirely in the mood for a biscuit, selected a piece of shortbread and set about dunking slowly it in her tea while she tried to figure out how to apologise to Fleur for making her worry.
Fleur stood in front of the mirror in her private bathroom and examined herself critically. Her eyes were red and puffy due to a lack of sleep and an abundance of crying. For the same reasons, her face was pink and blotchy in some places and very pale in others. All in all, it was not an attractive sight. She sighed as she wrapped a large fluffy towel around herself and wandered out of the bathroom. The Veela tried to remember the last time a long hot bubble bath had not soothed her and could not, but then she did not think she could remember ever being so angry before either. She had not slept at all - to the contrary, she had spent much of the night pacing as she battled with her emotions. A part of her wanted to run after Hermione and apologise for her harsh words (and she had admitted to herself that she had definitely overstepped with the Cho Chang comment) but the rest of her wanted to slap the selfish little chit for being so inconsiderate. Fleur was certain, however, that the thing that upset her the most was precisely how upset and emotionally confused she was over the bushy-haired girl. It had been around 4am, right after she had resolved to cut all social ties with the frustratingly emotionally-mute young witch and keep her mind purely on the mission, that Fleur had come to the shocking conclusion that she had done more than just fallen in love with Hermione; she must have actually begun the Veela bonding process. The realisation had struck her like a Crucio to the heart, shocking her to the core. She comforted herself with one small but definitive fact: if she and Hermione were destined to be soulmates bound together for the rest of their lives she was bloody well not going to apologise for worrying about her. With that sulky thought, she threw on some jogging pants and a hooded Hogwarts sweatshirt, and swore before Circe that she was absolutely not going to go look for a certain Gryffindor student. She was simply going for a morning jog around the lake to burn off her excess energy.
Twenty minutes later Fleur re-entered the castle as the first students were filing into the Great Hall for breakfast. She made her way back through the halls to her quarters and was stunned to find Madame Hooch standing at her door, conversing quietly with the portrait on the wall. Hooch's hawklike eyes swept over the French witch as she approached. "Mmhmm," the flying instructor said loudly. Fleur did not say a word but challenged the gaze. She entered her quarters, leaving the door open so that Hooch could follow as she presumably wished to do. Fleur grabbed a fluffy towel and a bottle of water that she had left out in preparation for her return, and dabbed the sweat from her face. She began to sip the water as she attempted to rehydrate her now aching body and figure out what the crude woman could possibly want from her.
Hooch sat herself down on the couch, legs splayed open carelessly, and watched Fleur expectantly. "I used to run, you know," she said after a moment, when it was clear that the French witch was not feeling talkative. "It's great for the old sexual frustration, though I would like to recommend flying instead - nothing like a broom between your legs, eh? Unless its a woman! Eh? Eh?" Fleur flushed, completely embarrassed, and tried not to spit her water all over the room. She failed rather dismally. Hooch allowed herself a little chuckle as Fleur picked up the towel and dabbed her face again. "I am exactly not in ze mood for jokes, Madame 'Ooch!" the Veela snapped and for some reason felt the need to clarify further, "and I am not, as you say, sexually frustrated, zank you very much!" The indignation in Fleur's voice was clear and Hooch thought that once again Minerva had the easier of the two tasks. Then she remembered that there would be hell to pay if Minerva even discovered she had been here. The Transfigurations professor had been quite explicit in her belief that there would be no explicitness for several weeks if Rolanda got involved. Hooch swallowed at the thought, and then turned her attention back to the French witch. "Well, we both know that you didn't get any last night because your girl was too busy cock-blocking me as she drank herself into oblivion and cried her heart out over you!" the normally jovial flight instructor snapped at the Veela. Fleur was surprised at the news - she knew that Hermione had left upset but perhaps she had not quite realised the depth of the Gryffindor's hurt. She felt guilt tighten its grip around her heart before she shook it off and summoned her resolve. "Zat is 'er own fault!" The French witch snapped back.
Hooch sighed. This one is as hard headed as they come, she thought to herself and decided to change her approach. "I think that you are probably right Fleur, Hermione certainly holds the lion's share of the blame in this situation-" the comparison to the house mascot was not lost on Fleur as Hooch continued, "-but let me remind you, YOU chose to pursue a relationship with this young witch and one of the fallouts of that choice is that she is not always going to 'get it' first time. I'm not telling you to let her thoughtlessness go unmentioned, I'm just saying that when she comes crawling back on her knees - and she will because she is completely head over heels for you even if she can be a stroppy little twat at times - then just, well... don't let her stay there too long?" Hooch let the question hang in the air. Fleur had turned her back on the crude witch as she absorbed all the insights she's just been privy to. 'Head over heels' - if that was true then it was great news because she was about to turn the young witch's world upside down when she found out about the bonding, and Fleur was certain that Hermione was intelligent enough to know what it meant. She was after all the brightest witch of her age. And, Fleur surmised, the most infuriating, the most stubborn, the most wilfully ignorant of personal risk, the most... beautiful. Dammit, she thought with a grimace.
The flight instructer examined the Veela and suspected that there was a lot more going on in that pretty head than considering whether or not to make Hermione grovel for a night or two. She got up from her seat, smirking slightly, and walked around so that she was standing face to face with Fleur. "What is it?" she asked, not even bothering to beat around the dirigible plums. Fleur cursed herself for being so transparent and tried to subtly pull the sleeve of her sweatshirt to cover her wrist. "Nozzing, I am just... overwhelmed with ze entire situation and, and, frustrated!" Fleur lied to Madame Hooch. The older witch was not fooled. Her sharp eyes had caught sight of the purple mottling on Fleur's wrist. "Merlin's saggy ball sack!" Hooch exclaimed as she grabbed Fleur's hand and yanked her sleeve up. Fleur snatched her wrist back, affronted. "Mademoiselle! Do you mind!" she barked at the flying instructor, her patience fraying on the last taut threads of dignity. Hooch took a step back quickly as she considered the implications and smiled. Fleur raised a questioning eyebrow at her, then sighed, she was too tired to play games with this loathsome woman, "eet definitely complicates matters," she told Hooch hoping that the annoying woman would leave it at that, she was disappointed. Hooch balked at the statement, "Complicates matters? That is a bit like saying there are some galleons in Gringotts! Sweet Circe Minerva will kill you if she finds out." Hooch exclaimed.
Fleur started to focus on her shoes and said nonchalantly, "I do not imagine 'Ermione will be overjoyed either." Hooch was stunned into silence. She could see that the Veela was struggling with this and wanted to reassure her, but she also knew how many hours Minnie stayed awake worrying about Hermione and did not want to be anywhere near ground zero when either of them found out. "Your secret is safe with me – for a while, but you need to sort this out sooner rather than later Fleur." Hooch told her using her flight instructor's voice with an air of authority. Fleur simply shook her head in agreement and sighed, again.
Hooch headed for the door, "I wouldn't want to be in your shoes right now not for a complete set of chocolate frog cards! It is more important than ever that you sort this mess out with Hermione, but don't give in to her too easy or Merlin knows she will walk all over you if you you let her!" and with that Hooch winked and walked out the door. Fleur huffed and threw herself down on the couch, everything was such a mess and she wanted to run away from it all, perhaps go back to France for a while and sit with her Maman, she would know how to fix this. But she knew it was wishful thinking, Hermione would never forgive her if she left now, plus she was depending on Fleur to help her with the Whorecruxes. She got up and resigned herself to the fact that it was going to be a long day as she headed to the bathroom to shower off.