Apologies for the delay. Life gets busy, don't it? Enjoy! :)

French
Thoughts
Veela

The night of Christmas Eve was a special one for Fleur. They spent it at Hermione's place; the tree decorated and lighting up the living room with a few gifts wrapped and ready underneath. The Quibbler's article had been published earlier that week, and after giving a few more interviews, her mate had been pleasantly surprised by the outcry of support in her favour for coming out. It seemed there were only a small fraction of magical peoples against their union, but the Minister seemed to care very little about them.

The two spent the night together, making dinner and watching holiday films with a bottle of wine. They made love on the sofa as the credits rolled, and dragged themselves off to bed eventually, needing their rest for the big family day at the Delacour's. The blonde fell asleep with a smile on her face. She didn't think she would ever get to spend a Christmas morning with her mate, but here it was. What a dream.

And it was a dream, until Fleur's eyes shot open in the middle of the night and her stomach dropped at the sound echoing around her room. Hermione was screaming and thrashing around in bed, tangling herself up in the sheets and clawing at her skin.

"Shit!" The veela sprang into action, trying to grab her wrists and calm her down before she could hurt herself further. It was hard to see in the dark, and the brunette's arms felt slick and slippery when she tried to hold into them.

"Please, no!" she kept screaming and twisting away from her, "Stop it! I can't!" The blonde's heart dropped at the sound. She felt tears stinging her eyes.

"Hermione, you're okay," she said as softly as she could amidst the panic, still trying to capture her wrists but struggling. "It's me, it's Fleur. You're safe. It's just a dream. I've got you. I'm here, my love, you're safe." She was worried it was not just sweat now. It was far too slippery. She focused on her thrall and pushing out a calming atmosphere even though she felt nothing of the sort.

For someone asleep, the Gryffindor was surprisingly strong and elusive, but eventually, the veela locked her wrists in each hand and pinned her arms down, setting her torso on top of her now and focusing entirely on her thrall and getting her to wake from her nightmare.

"Please, Hermione," she kissed her gently on the forehead. The younger witch suddenly stopped screaming, and her arms relaxed, but Fleur didn't let go just yet. She loosened her grip slightly and kept muttering soothing words in French, gently pressing her lips to her temple.

"Fleur," the brunette croaked eventually, her voice hoarse. She was panting heavily, and her face was wet with tears. The veela picked her head up to look at her. It was still dark in the bedroom, but she could make out the look in her eyes and she looked alert, but scared. She let go of her wrists, letting her mate wrap her arms around her. She started crying in her shoulder, and Fleur just continued to focus on her thrall and her soothing words, letting her hyperventilating breaths slowly return to normal.

She could feel that slippery wetness on her back where the brunette was holding her.

"My love, I need to turn the light on," she said softly, and Hermione tightened her arms around her but didn't respond. The blonde wordlessly turned the lights on low and raised her head, gasping at the sight beneath her.

There streaks of blood on Hermione's cheek and neck. The cream sheets were smeared with red smudges and handprints. "Oh my God," Fleur muttered, pulling away quickly to straddle her and taking her wrist again, gently this time. The crude carving down her forearm had reopened. There were scratch marks across her arms and chest, and the blonde knew she had been clawing at her skin for some time before she even woke up. The vulgar word looked angry and inflamed, and it was slowly seeping blood from at least six spots where her nails had found purchase.

Fleur looked up into sad, scared brown eyes. She tried to keep the mask of serenity on, but she was likely failing.

"Mon amour, has this happened before?" she asked in a tender voice that was so close to shaking.

The brunette looked away from her, her chin quivering slightly before she set her mouth in a hard line, not letting herself cry again. She only nodded, her eyes focused on the bedside table. Fleur gently reached out and cupped her cheek, wiping a little streak of blood with her thumb and slowly turning her head back towards her.

Brown eyes finally met blue again, and the shame she saw in them made the blonde's blood boil, but now wasn't the time for that.

"Hey, it's okay. You are safe. Come, my love. I need to get you cleaned up," Fleur got off from on top of her and the brunette allowed her to be led into the bathroom. They spend the next half hour cleaning and dressing the wound. It would keep bleeding until it closed again, she knew. No magic worked on it; they would just have to make sure they keep it clean until it does.

As Hermione showered, Fleur magically changed the sheets. For some reason, just cleaning off the blood didn't seem like enough right now. When the brunette stepped into the bedroom again, she looked forlorn. The blonde pulled her into bed and wrapped her arms around her, curly hair tickling her chin as she laid her head on her chest.

"I'm sorry," the brunette mumbled, her voice still raspy from shouting.

Fleur shushed her quietly, running her hands through her hair, "You have nothing to apologize for. Go to sleep, ma cherie. I've got you now."

The blonde tried to sleep, but it came fitfully. She kept waking up whenever Hermione moved or made the smallest noise. Once she could hear birds start chirping outside the window she finally gave up, settling on her side, content with just watching the woman beside her. She watched her deep breathing and the rise and fall of her chest. She hummed a few French lullabies softly as she tried memorising each freckle splashed across her lovely cheekbones.

The veela's heart hurt, but it was different this time and the feeling was noticeable to her. Since they had bonded, she no longer felt like she was without purpose. Like she was unfulfilled. Now, all she felt was this unimaginable connection to the woman sleeping beside her. There was an undeniable weight in her chest, like pull, almost. It felt like gravity. Hermione was now the only thing tethering her to this fragile planet. She would do anything for her; anything and everything. Although her mate might never get rid of her terrors, she knew in her heart she would at least be here now. The brunette stirred a little, and Fleur leaned forward and kissed her knuckle.

I'm here now, she thought again with a small smile.

Christmas at the Delacour's was a week-long affair, and the two women decided they would stay there for the duration until the final bonding ceremony on New Year's Eve. Christmas morning was a little tense, but only for Hermione, who was still feeling a little shameful of her nightmare. The gauze wrapped around her arm didn't go unnoticed by Apolline, but at least she didn't mention it. The family exchanged presents in the morning, followed by a semi-formal lunch in the dining room.

Hermione and Fleur had decided against gifts to one another this year. There was nothing either of them truly wanted from a material point of view. Instead, the Minister requested that Fleur join her on her annual Christmas tradition. So, once they finished lunch, the two all but bought out an entire magical toy shop in Paris and dropped everything off at a few orphanages in the area. They spent an afternoon reading stories and playing around with the children, who were laughing and giggling at their new possessions. By the time they left, the veela was grinning ear-to-ear.

"That was wonderful," she said, kissing the Minister on the cheek as they walked down the garden path back to the street. They were bundled up in coats, scarves, and gloves. Fleur hooked her arm through her mate's.

Hermione smiled, leaning into the touch, "I'm glad you liked it." They reached the wrought iron gate on the outside of the orphanage. It was a sunny but frigid day. The Minister's cheeks were red, and Fleur could see her breath dancing around from the cold air. Her bright eyes were shining, though, and the veela's heart seemed to be doing somersaults in her chest. She is so beautiful.

"You are so beautiful," Fleur said, realising she no longer had to hold back these thoughts.

Hermione smiled a little wider, but rolled her eyes and huffed her breath, "Stop being such a charmer, Delacour," she started to walk away from the gate, down the street, but Fleur grabbed her hand to stop her.

She cupped her jaw in her hands, placing a gentle kiss onto cold lips. The brunette's eyes rose slightly, but she returned it.

"I'm serious. You are the most beautiful person I have ever known—inside and out, and I can't wait for you to be a part of my family", Fleur said.

Brown eyes softened, and she felt lips on hers again, but this time a tongue was on her lip demanding entrance. She felt warm and tasted like peppermint tea. Their breaths swirled in the cool air around them as the veela pulled her in tightly. The brunette hummed against her warmed lips, "Mmm, Merry Christmas to me," the blonde giggled at her, "I love you, Fleur."

"I love you, Hermione. Joyeux Noël."

More and more family kept pouring in over the week to spend time with them. There was music, food, and plenty of wine. Hermione and Fleur were intent on making it a relaxing holiday. The brunette confided in her that this time of year was always challenging for her, and the veela was determined to make it special for her. She knew nothing could replace her parents, but she hoped that being welcomed into her family—in more than one way—would give her hope for their future together.

The night of the ceremony came quickly, and Fleur could tell Hermione was growing more nervous as the day went on. They took the floo to the Bulgarian Ministry and after speaking briefly with the Minister the family apparated to the outskirts of a woodland area. Since the creatures and the government had a much better relationship here than the British Veela, they only had a five-minute walk through some dense woodland to the clan site.

Rather than caves in a hillside, this was an enormous clearing of trees with hundreds of clay huts interspersed around the area. There were already hundreds of foreigners packed into the clearing, bundled in coats, hats, and gloves. Considering the time of year, the Bulgarian Veela from the clan they did see amidst the guests were wrapped in large fur coats and huddled around small fires across their land. Walking along next to her, Fleur could see Hermione's breath, and she gave her a small, reassuring smile as the clan leader, Mira, made her way down the grassy slope towards them in a thick sheepskin.

"Fleur! We are so glad to have you on such an occasion! Welcome!" Mira gave her two kisses on the cheek, before shaking Hermione's hand and giving Apolline, Adele, Phillipe, and Gabrielle a wink. Her brown eyes and high cheekbones were laughing at them, as was familiar to the blonde. Mira was almost never seen without a smile on her stunning face.

"It's wonderful to see you, Mira. This is Hermione Granger, my love and mate,"she gestured to the Gryffindor, who recognized her name and smiled at the clan leader warmly, despite the frigid temperatures.

"I am sorry for my Eeenglish, Ermy-oh-nee," Mira said slowly in English, her brow furrowed in concentration, but the smile was plastered across her face again after she got all the syllables out.

"It's wonderful to meet you, Mira. Thank you for having me," Hermione said in close to perfect Veela, and Mira and Fleur's eyebrows rose to her hairline at hearing their sacred language. There were a few moments of silence, and Fleur looked back to see her mother, sister, and father flabbergasted. Her grandmother, however, was looking away at the treeline rather sheepishly. The blonde looked back to her mate, who was trying not to smile through closed lips. "I thought I should practice," she said with a wink of her own, turning back to Mira, "I am so excited to meet your clan. Please, after you." Mira's bellowing laugh rang across the fields like resounding bells before she looked at Fleur pointedly and said, "She's perfect," before grabbing the Gryffindor's hand and led the way to the large tent in the centre of the clearing.

Finally, at sundown, Fleur's breath was coming out in frequent pants of nervousness against the chilly night sky. Her skin was a senseless mixture of hot and cool as she battled the anxious sweats with the freezing air. She was in a traditional Veela toga again with a fur-lined coat draped over her shoulders. A leather belt with a small silver blade was strapped tightly against her stomach. The hundreds and hundreds of faces looking towards her weren't daunting, but the soon-to-be presence of her mate was.

They were at the top of the clearing in front of the widest tree Fleur had ever seen. It was close to 3 meters in diameter and over 30 meters tall. The blonde could feel the magic emanating from it like a frequency. The overwhelming presence of magic was why they considered this place to be the birthplace of the Veela. She was their protector; The Mother.

A sea of stunning faces was watching her, but she was now staring at her freezing bare toes with sand stuck in her throat.

This is it, she thought, trying to swallow her nerves. She looked up at her grand-mere briefly, who gave her a reassuring nod, the sacred text tucked confidently under her arm. She could hear some murmuring behind her, and she turned out to see her mate walking towards her, dressed in an identical outfit, but hers a black blade made of obsidian. Her hair was down in soft curls to her shoulders, her nose pink in the harsh temperature, but her eyes were shining brightly. Fleur returned her smile, her heart pounding.

Adele smiled; her arms wide as Hermione stepped to the base of the ancient tree. The large roots at their feet left a small circle for these ceremonies in which the three of them stood comfortably. Whether it was made by that from use, or if the tree knew to leave room for them, Fleur didn't know.

Hermione reached for her hand, and Fleur wrapped hers around it, relishing in the warmth her mate was giving her. The night was deadly silent. There were not even children crying in the background, and the forest surrounding them seemed to be listening intently in anticipation.

Adele looked between them before speaking to the large clan, her voice carrying across the large area.

"Welcome, family. It is always a joyous occasion when we invite bonded mates into our large tribe. Perhaps I am biased, but tonight seems especially special, somehow. My dear granddaughter, Fleur, our leader, has found, loved, and bonded with her mate, and now we will accept her into our family together."

She could feel the warmth thralls washing over them, and even though Fleur couldn't see the faces behind her, she knew there were signs of approval. All she could see what the woman in front of her, however. That damn crinkle surrounding those russet eyes that were shining in the near moonlight. The freckles she was learning each and every day. The tongue that was poking at under an incisor as her smile grew against the dark night sky.

Adele was still talking, but Fleur reached for her mate's other hand, letting her own thrall wash over her. The feeling of Hermione's powerful magic mixed with the waves of the ancient presence from their sacred Mother was making Fleur feel rather warm now. She was no longer shivering.

Adele was still talking, and thankfully her mate was actually listening as she reached out to pull off the blonde's fur coat, "And now you will unclothe your mate before you until you are standing in your bones, and you will kneel together before The Mother."

Adele paused as Hermione finished taking off her toga. Fleur was finally standing stark naked, aside from the belt with her knife still secured against around her waist. She gently did the same for her mate, finally helping her unwrap the bandages around her forearm as well and giving the brunette an encouraging smile. Soon they were both standing in their skins before The Mother, and the blonde wondered if her mate could feel the pulsing magic surrounding them as she could. She couldn't feel the cold air at all anymore.

Her grand-mere spoke again, "This story is old, and has been told for many, many Suns. We ask, Great Mother, that you once again hear us before these two; Fleur Isabelle Delacour and Hermione Jean Granger," there was a wave-like murmur throughout the sea of Veela behind them. Fleur knew they were saying, "We hear you," but she could hardly hear anything over the pounding in her ears.

Fleur was looking at her mate; her future. Those brown eyes were the only thing that mattered. It was a strange sensation. For so long she had thought about this, but she hadn't ever gotten this far. She never let her mind take her to this place for some reason, but here they were, and Fleur felt faint with happiness. It was surreal. She was the only thing that she knew she had ever loved, and this was it. This was the final moment of trust; of love, of commitment.

Her final countdown to peace, and serenity. Fleur was ready for that full scoop of ice cream now. Seventeen years, but there were no doubts now, and she could see that in her mate's eyes that were filling with tears. As they knelt naked before The Mother, Her warmth enveloping the three of them in comfort and love. Adele spoke again, reading from their ancient Veela tome.

"Greatest Mother, our saviour, guardian, and guide.

This story is old, but it endures for years afore us.

Before man, there was woman, forged from your marrow,

and she was fair and free, and laid bare by you.

Woman was nourished by your soil and fed from your fruits.

She explored your veins and drank the secrets of your blood.

Woman was fearless, and consumed you and you alone,

but eventually, woman grew tired of wandering in solitude,

and one day she asked The Mother for another kindness.

The woman was lonely, and she asked for an equal.

She asked for one who knew her as she knew you, Great Mother.

She asked to see the moon, sun, and stars in another.

A companion, a champion, a rival of herself.

A mate to give her soul to, and to carry her own in fair trade,

And together they would walk, hand in hand, in life and in death.

The Mother accepted, but she required a price from her child.

So, the woman went to the river nearby

and she plucked a feather from the great swan;

A beacon of beauty, ferocity, and love.

She brandished her feather to The Mother,

"Make me as beautiful as the swan," she said,

"Bring me eternal beauty, and I will bear its weight,

and I, like the swan, will only have one to treasure."

The Mother took her blood and wings grew from her smooth back,

and the beautiful woman took flight into the night in search of her love.

She was a tall, dark woman, built from the trees and Earth,

And the woman loved her like she was the Sun, and as such, they lived, as one.

And so, Children, before me, The Mother has given this to you,

This love, one love, in the name of the nameless woman,

In the name of endless ends and eternal beginnings,

And now, she demands blood, for you to begin together, as one."

Fleur was the first to reach for the knife still strapped to her nearly naked body, Hermione was quick to follow suit, her eyes wide in wonder. The blonde assumed her mate didn't comprehend most of what Adele said, but there was a depth of understanding she could see in those coffee eyes that made the blonde think the language barrier was strangely not of consequence.

Adele was still talking as Fleur dragged her dagger across her left palm, drawing blood for The Mother. Her mate unsheathed her black blade and did the same. Strangely, she felt no pain. The blonde knew what was supposed to happen. She knew all the parts to this ritual, but something was happening outside of her own awareness and it was hard to explain. As she seeped into the enriched, ancient soil, Fleur could feel her magic leaving her body.

There was a vulnerability to it, giving herself up before The Mother. If she wasn't here, Fleur didn't think it would be so freeing, but she let go for the woman kneeling before her. She closed her eyes and just let it all go. Her magic—her essence—left her, and something else was filling her, taking its place. It felt like…blue. Does that make sense? No, it doesn't, but that's what it was. Hermione's magic felt cool where hers was hot; it was calming and familiar like the clear sky on a cool autumn day. Fleur's blood was filling with it, she was leeching from it, and she could feel strength and power underneath it's pretty face. Force. Energy. Like crashing waves; beautiful, underestimated, begging you to miscalculate it.

She opened her eyes again only to see her mate staring wide-eyed back at her. The Mother was still taking from both of them and Adele had finished talking but Fleur couldn't hear anymore regardless. Her senses were being assaulted with waves of her mate's magic. She could smell rain and parchment. She could see particles floating between then like a morning haze. The taste of mineral on her tongue was soon replaced by something reminiscent of strawberries.

Hermione was holding the dagger in one hand and her blood was caking the Earth by her knee, but she was smiling at Fleur. There were tears streaking down her face, and the blonde didn't think her heart was ever meant to feel like this. Her chest felt like it was going to burst open with light and music, and she could hardly remember what it was like only a short time ago, fragmented and left out in the rain. She didn't need to remember now, anyway. She was moving on. They were moving on. Fleur was alone and broken once, but time has a funny way of fixing all sorts of things, doesn't it?

Fleurmione week starts TOMORROW! Can't wait. Thanks for reading, as always. I will get the next chapter up shortly.
Psych x