Golden Haze, Act Four, Scene Four
AN: One short interlude and one epilogue and this journey is done. This story has been so hard to write, this chapter especially. There's fall out from Jone, and the inevitable conclusion. It's Valentine's Day still and Fleur has just one chance to make it real between the two of them.
Sorry for the delay getting this out. I'm moving soon and this month has been hell for me so far. Hopefully as I get settled and moved in, I'll be able to finish this.
Music of the Story: Calvin Harris - Bounce
The aurors found them a few minutes later, Jones trembling at Fleur's feet, her breathing hard and Hermione's wound carefully bandaged as best as Fleur could manage with the dittany that Hermione had in her (seemingly) bottomless purse. Despite the fact that she was wounded, Hermione's lips were pulled upwards into a smug smile. Fleur shook her head at first when Hermione let out a triumphant hiss of barely-restrained excitement when Jones crumpled under the spell that had once driven Hermione the vision to truly understand how deeply Fleur cared for her.
All this had been Hermione's plan, and Fleur could not help but feel a swell of pride as her girlfriend had grinned triumphantly at Hermione as she bandaged her arm. "I can't believe that worked," Hermione said, her voice shaking a little bit from the cold and pain. Her arm was slick with blood and she was shivering as Fleur tried to shield her from the stiff wind that had blown up small snow squalls up and down the road.
"You are quite brilliant, 'ermione," Fleur whispered as the first of the aurors ran towards them. Fleur felt alarmed at their rapid approach, but she understood that her reaction was that of a predator, not of a human. They were coming to help.
Still, Fleur could not contain the impulse to at least level the odds against her and whispered 'nox;' once more plunging them into darkness. The aurors were quickly spelling the streetlights back to life as they hurried onto the scene and Fleur wrapped her arms protectively around Hermione.
Veela were predators, they protected their mates at all costs.
"What happened here?" The first witch demanded, her wand alight and her hair flying every which way under her fedora. Fleur recognized her as one of the ones who had escorted students down to the village earlier. She lowered her wand to Jones' bound and shaking form and gasped, Jones' face had been on a lot of 'wanted' posters in recent weeks. "He attacked you?"
Hermione nodded and recognition dawned on the auror's face as she took in Hermione, her injured arm. "We were coming out of the restaurant over there." She pointed with her good arm and Fleur tried to relax and will herself to calm down enough that the transformation would fade. The press would be on them like vultures in a few minutes and Fleur did not want them to see her like this. The media was notorious for sensationalizing veela and their culture.
"Miss Granger," The auror began with some trepidation, casting diagnostic spells over Jones. Fleur looked up, alarmed, but the logical and human side of her reasoned that Hermione was a fairly well-known individual because of everything that she did during the war and that it was not a stretch for this auror to know her name. "Could you tell me what spell you used on him?"
Fleur exhaled, hesitating only for a moment before Hermione nodded encouragingly at her. "I did it, actually," she said. Her voice shook and her English was far more accented than she wanted. "It is a self-defense spell, adamor."
"I haven't heard of it," The auror said quietly.
Hermione nodded. "You probably haven't. I had not until the beginning of the school year-" she glanced at Fleur, who grinned cheekily at her before forcing her face into a more serious expression. The spell had other uses, yes, but when used in self-defense the images it projected were not the pleasant (overtly sexual) ones that Hermione had experienced when Fleur used the spell on her at the beginning of the school year. "it is Bulgarian in origin, it projects the images of a victim's mind into the attacker – more useful with women as it was designed as a deterrent to rape."
The auror nodded and stood, turning to the other aurors who had cordoned off the scene and were beginning to take magical photographs of the evidence of the duel and of Jones' twitching body. A few had begun to cast wards around the area and one was combing through the debris from one of Jones' cutting curses with an interested look on his face. As the auror walked away from the two of them, Hermione shivered.
"What did he mean by that?" She asked Fleur. Her eyes were wide and brown and full of questions that Fleur was only just beginning to understand the answers to. "You can never love truly?"
Fleur sighed, and pulled Hermione to her feet, careful of her injured arm. Their bodies brushed against each other and Fleur tried and failed to suppress the blush that rose to her cheeks as Hermione leaned up to kiss cheek once they were both standing. "Draco Malfoy 'as a theory that Jones was wronged by a veela, once upon a time." She shrugged off her cloak and draped it around Hermione's shoulders, tying it closed with (thankfully) human fingers. "'e does not know what 'e is talking about."
Declaring Jones to be an under-informed idiot was one thing, but Fleur knew she had to do more. Hermione was too scientific, too analytical of a mind to accept what Fleur was saying at face value and without a question. She shoved her hands into her pockets, thinking that it was no or never. The box was in her pocket and Fleur's fingers closed around it, pulling it out and pressing it into Hermione's good hand. "This is not the most romantic of occasions, but with what Jones 'as said, I need to – I must - give this to you now."
Hermione fingered the box, contemplating it for a moment before shaking her head. Fleur's heart plummeted as she quietly closed the box and made to hand it back to Fleur. "I told you that I did not want to get married for a while."
Fleur laughed, taking the box and opening it back up for Hermione. "It is not that at all," she explained. "When you gave me those earrings at Christmas, I realized something, non?" She pulled out the intricately carved pewter ring that had been in her family for generations. "This is yours – it is tradition and it 'as no meaning other than to say that you are my mate and that you 'ave acknowledged your claim of me as I 'ave claimed you." She took the ring in her hand and grinned at Hermione. "If you want it more simply: you gave me jewelry, now I am giving you jewelry back."
Laughing, Hermione held out her good hand – her right hand, and Fleur pushed the ring onto her finger and watched as it shrank to fit. There was old magic in the ring, veela magic that Fleur could not even begin to understand. It accepted only true love and the purest of intentions. "I think I can accept that."
"It 'as been in my family for generations," Fleur explained in a hushed voice. She did not want the aurors overhearing what they were discussing. "Passed down from eldest daughter to eldest daughter."
Hermione reached up, the pewter on her finger cold against Fleur's cheek. "Thank you," she whispered, brushing a kiss against Fleur's lips.
The aurors converged around them then and they were separated to give statements in the quiet warmth of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement's local office. Fleur watched the fire as she answered the questions of the investigators. No, she had not attacked Jones maliciously, he had cut Hermione with a sudden curse and the spell was the only thing that she could think of in such a short period of time. She explained what the spell meant, how it functioned, and cited as many sources as she could remember studying in school on various self-defense spells. (Beauxbatons was a girls' school, they leaned to protect themselves from unwanted attention as early as their third year.)
"Ms. Delacour, I understand that it is late and that your – ah – friend – was wounded in the fight but you must complete your statement before too much time has passed – so that your memories are clearest," The witch giving the interview explained.
Fleur raised her want to her head and concentrated, pulling out the silvery wisp of memory from among silvery-blond strands of hair. "Will zis satisify 'ou?" she asked with deliberate thickness in her accent.
The witch produced a bottle from her pocket and Fleur directed the memory into it without a word, "I'll get this duplicated and entered into evidence and then you can have it back then?"
Fleur nodded, weariness and a longing for her lover – for Hermione – filling every aspect of her being. "I 'ave to teach in the morning, you know."
"Shan't be long," the witch said and vanished behind the locked door.
Groaning, Fleur stretched, her tunic bunching around her stomach before leaning forward and over the low table that filled the room. She hated being cooped up like this, but knew that she had done no wrong and that this was all just procedure.
Was Hermione being looked after? Was someone checking on her arm? Had they called a healer to fully repair what Jones had done? The questions swam in her mind and Fleur half rose before she realized what she was doing. She smiled ruefully and sat back down, aurors were professional above all else. They would take care of Hermione – they would be united as soon as the aurors could arrange it.
x
"Professor Flitwick and I are going to look in on your classes," Minerva McGonagall, clad in tartan dressing gown and a hairnet, folded her arms under her cloak as Hermione and Fleur sleepily made their way back into the castle. It was nearing three o'clock in the morning. Fleur had been allowed to floo the castle at midnight to alert them to the fact that they were still detained and would not be back in the discernable future. "You and Miss Granger both look like you've been through another war. Get some sleep."
It was strange to hear such genuine concern from Minerva McGonagall – the woman was usually far more business-like in her demeanor. Fleur supposed that because they had finally had a confrontation with Jones that she was more at ease than she had been since before this whole ordeal had started.
"Merci, Minerva," Fleur said. Her hand was still entwined with Hermione's and Fleur could see their eyes on her – on them both. She found, as she had done when being interviewed by the aurors, that she did not care. They could judge her for doing what she wanted; she was her own person now. She was no longer tied down by marriage or false laws that invalidated her existence.
They parted ways with the headmistress and headed up the stairs towards both of their rooms. Fleur picked a route through the castle that at least gave them the illusion of returning to their individual sleeping quarters, even if it ass the worst kept secret in all of Hogwarts where Hermione Granger spent her nights.
"Fleur," Hermione began and Fleur turned to face her. She was standing in the middle of the hallway, looking for all the world as though she wanted nothing more than to collapse and sink into the floor. "I wanted to tell you, if you had asked, I would have said yes."
Fleur held out her hand to Hermione with a smile flashing predatorily across her face. "I would never force you," she answered. "You made your reasoning very clear. I respect that. It can wait."
Hermione's face blossomed into a smile and she fingers the ring on her right hand, looking at it for a long moment before asking, "What are we doing?"
I was under the impression that I was going to take you to bed and attempt to salvage what is left of Valentine's Day, Fleur thought. She somehow did not think that that was the best response to Hermione's question.
The stood apart, and yet together, staring at each other in the middle of the deserted hallway. Fleur knew that this place held memories for Hermione that she could not even begin to put into words. Fleur had been there for the final battle, but not the buildup, she hadn't seen what it was like to have a place so … so sacred to Hermione desecrated like that.
"I don't know," she said at length.
Wide brown eyes meet her own and Fleur shook her head ever so slightly. They were free, finally. Free of Jones and his threats and nothing could stand between them.
Fleur slung her arm around Hermione's shoulders and pulled her in close. Hermione was warm, pressed against her the way that Fleur had imagined the evening ending. Fleur savored every moment of their bodies like this, close and inter-connected. "Let's find out together, non?" She asked.
Hermione grinned back at her and nodded her agreement.
x
Her body was full of a sense of purpose. Her mind was paying rapt attention to every motion of Hermione, the way that the ring on her finger burned against her skin. Hermione had pushed her down, forced her shirt up and is taking Fleur for all that she is worth.
"'ermione," her voice was breathy. She inhaled deeply, Hermione's fingers relenting momentarily as they stared at each other.
"Yes?"
"Je t'aime," Fleur said in slurred French. She knew that Hermione knew what she was saying, and she wanted it abundantly clear to Hermione that this was the final act. The ring upon Hermione's finger meant far more than she'd readily admitted to Hermione – but its meaning was more for the veela than it was for the mate.
It meant commitment, a consummation of the relationship. Fleur had to have Hermione before the night was out or the contract was null and void. This was the way of the veela, written long ago in a codex so old that the language of the birds graced its cover. There was no way to deviate from what it suggested – simply the way that their bodies moved as one.
"I love you too, Fleur," Hermione said, resting her head against Fleur's shoulder as she pushed her fingers back up and into Fleur. Her breath was warm against Fleur's flushed skin, and as her teeth grazed Fleur's collar bone, she could not help but moan Hermione's name.
Fleur's fingers flexed under the pillow she had been holding. She exhaled, her breath already coming in short pants. "'arder."
There was something wicked about the way that Hermione moved against her, wicked and sinfully slow. Fleur groaned, feeling Hermione's palm press up against the tight circle of nerves just above where her unrelenting fingers were pushing in and out of her with that same, tantalizingly slow pace.
Fleur squirmed, knowing that she could not resist Hermione's touch. This was them now, this was their dance, the fatal pull of attraction between their two bodies. It would drive her insane, eventually, Fleur knew this – and yet she did not care. The burn of that pewter ring as it rested against her arm was enough to drive her to ecstasy she could barely imagine.
"Please…" She breathed, Hermione's teeth, tongue and hand unrelenting in their motion, biting, roughly claiming ownership – taking everything Fleur had to give and more.
When she did come, it came quickly, unexpectedly. She had not felt it building and she found herself upset that it was not as fantastic as she had hoped for. Hermione was eyeing her, panting in the afterglow with a closed-off expression on her face.
"We're fully bonded now, aren't we?" She asked, pulling off her shirt and tossing it half-heartedly towards Fleur's wardrobe where Fleur's boots and pants lay carelessly discarded.
Speech still not coming to her clearly, Fleur nodded. She inhaled deeply, careful not to move too suddenly – she was still so sensitive – and sat up. Her fingers, sharp white-tipped nails ever ready to strike, brushed against the soft skin of Hermione's cheek and Fleur shuddered.
She cannot handle this right now. She was too trapped, too full of everything that they'd done and what was going to happen in the morning. Jones wasn't dead, but he was gone, and Fleur was finally free.
Free to be completely and utterly terrified.
"We are," Her voice was low, husky. They'd just had sex, but it was her turn now, and she was going to make Hermione scream.
Her fingers trailed lower, tracing Hermione's still kiss-swollen lips, pausing as Hermione's tongue flicked out to taste them. "You are now mine," Fleur shifted, fully naked against Hermione's still partially-clothed body. "I 'ate to tell you this."
Hermione grinned, "I think I can deal with that."
Fleur laughed, her smile bright and illuminating as their bodies crashed together and she forced Hermione onto her back, tense and full of longing.
Their bodies moved as one throughout the night, pushing against each other further and further towards their future together.
x
Minister For Magic Special Statement
by Rita Skeeter, Special to The Daily Prophet
LONDON – Minister For Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt released a statement late yesterday evening stating that the terrorist, Jones, is in custody. Real name Isaac Richards, the man known as Jones has been working against the inclusion of those with less than pure human blood into modern wizarding society. As Mr. Richards is a muggle born and a Hogwarts graduate, he has had the finest magical education that Wizarding Britain had to offer and yet his politics and convictions drove him to attack a student and professor from Hogwarts School.
Minister Shacklebolt, a former auror himself, said that the investigation was still ongoing but confided in this reporter that the case against Mr. Richards was quite strong and that he was sure to serve time for his crimes. Mr. Richards is indicated in the murder of a noted part-harpy singer that transpired in October of last year.
While Mr. Richards has yet to obtain a solicitor, there is a supposition on the part of the Prophet that he will obtain one in the morning, or one will be appointed to represent him if he cannot afford one. This is an intriguing development as many wartime laws are still in place and if the Ministry were to follow wartime policies the character also known as Jones would be locked up without a trial. This reporter finds herself wondering why it is that a man who is so obviously guilty is being allowed to stand trial, but it is the temperature of the day and the Minister for Magic is well and correct in his want to follow the old, pre-war laws.
What is unclear at the time is if the duel that Mr. Richards got into with the aurors was justified or if he was merely apprehended. It was implied in the Minister's statement that attack that instigated the confrontation as unprovoked, but there are no indicators that anyone is at fault in the Minister's public statement and this reporter cannot find evidence of this through other sources.
x
"Well, I'm glad that's over," Townsend said, throwing down his copy of The Daily Prophet with disgust. "Now we can finally go about our lives."
Fleur turned to stare at him, happy to say that his reaction was exactly her own. Thank Merlin, there's no more for them. They could finally move on.
She was comfortable and sore, her body ached all over from the touch and feel of Hermione last night and into that morning. She'd had very little sleep, but she did not care. She was finally free.
TO BE CONCLUDED