Chapter 7
Hermione sat frozen on the couch, waiting for Fleur to make the first move.
What was the first move again?
Oh right, dancing. Music. Should I make the volume on the stereo louder?
But she still didn't move. And instead of Fleur helping her out, the blonde lazily reached for her wine and settled back into the couch.
Enough time passed since the kiss for Hermione's pulse to slow down but for some reason it wouldn't stop racing. Fleur's lips looked swollen and pride swelled in her at having been the cause. The Frenchwoman's suit jacket was rumpled and her blues eyes were still dark in spite of her obvious effort to look indifferent.
She could slide over there, closer to the Veela. She could trace her jawline with her fingers, follow a path down her neck, her tongue not far behind. Hermione's breath hitched at the thought and she closed her eyes, unable to stop herself from imagining what would come next. Hands deftly removing layers of clothing, skin ready and willing to be mapped by her mouth. To lay claim, to show Fleur what she'd missed out on.
Anger lanced through Hermione and her imagined touches became harsher, her teeth punishing. She wanted to make Fleur writhe beneath her, to cry out her name in contrition, penance, and devotion.
Hermione quickly stood up, her eyes darting wildly about the room, looking anywhere but at the other woman. Her anger fled at overstepping with her imagination like that even though technically she could ask Fleur to give her this exact scenario.
"Sorry, um, we'll need music for dancing, right?"
"It would 'elp. But I think what you've chosen works. Old standards, even some chanson, everything we used to..."
Even though Fleur looked away instead of finishing her sentence, Hermione knew what the woman meant to say. The music Hermione had selected for this date had been exactly the kind of music they used to enjoy together, an old AM radio station they found once upon a time that the bookworm was able to have magically connected to any radio on which she'd cast the charm. She blushed at the old memories. Would she ever not blush at Fleur's words?
Walking to the stereo, she took her time fiddling with the volume knob and heard Fleur stand up and walk to an open area of the room. Hermione reached for her anger, needing it to face this woman without surrendering everything, and it was there but it was also mixed up with thoughts about when they could kiss again.
Finally turning around, she saw Fleur had slipped off her shoes and her jacket. Even her wand had been placed on the coffee table. Her blonde hair was still up in her loose bun and she looked almost domestic. The brunette eyed the button-up silk blouse that was designed to not be tucked in, the sleeves that went down to the blonde's elbows. Hermione wondered how hard it would be to undo those buttons with one hand. When she looked up, she saw Fleur's smirk.
Huffing, Hermione slipped off her shoes, removed her wand holster and wand from her arm, and placed it next to Fleur's. Then she walked over to the blonde. Rolling her eyes, she placed her left hand on Fleur's shoulder and held her right hand up, waiting for Fleur's left.
"Looks like we finally get that dance. You missed your chance at my wedding, after all," said Hermione haughtily.
Instead of a returning barb, Fleur's features softened and she slowly took Hermione's hand and placed her other on her lower back, pulling her closer. Without speaking, the Veela gently led her in a slow, simple box step which matched the slow rhythm of the song, but the steps were small, confining them to the small area Fleur chose. Hermione danced stiffly, frustrated that Fleur could be so calm. Taking a breath, she slowly began to realize that she couldn't sense the thrall. In the past, she had usually been able to tell when the blonde was making an effort to contain it but right now she saw no sign of concentration in her expression. This change in Fleur reminded her even more of their distance and all the memories that had been made without her.
Hermione knew her and at the same time she didn't.
A part of Hermione had accepted this fact a long time ago but now, being in Fleur's presence again, a rebellious part of her wanted to remind her that burying the past didn't mean they didn't have one.
"Your control over your thrall is impressive. When did that happen?" Hermione asked.
"Control improves with age but I also spent a lot of time with a 'ealer. A Veela. She taught me."
Fleur offered a faint smile but no further explanation. Hermione looked away, annoyed by that smile, but after a while she felt herself lulled by the gentle movements of their dance. She told herself that there was no point in not trying to enjoy herself. That was part of the original plan for tonight, wasn't it?
Unexpectedly, Fleur said, "I am sorry for missing your wedding, 'Ermione. I… would've asked for a dance if..."
When she turned back to Fleur, she saw regret in her expression. Did the blonde remember that conversation about a dance, too? The one which happened a month before Ron proposed. Did Fleur remember all of their conversations the way Hermione did?
Hermione slipped off the couch onto the floor and laughed at Fleur's latest story of dealing with an enthralled suitor while on the job. She'd been at Shell Cottage for hours, first dinner and then after dinner wine and conversation that carried on long into the night. It was early December and cold, the fire burning softly in the hearth, and Bill was away on a work trip so they were alone. It had been about a year and a half since she graduated from Hogwarts and it wasn't often that she got to hang out at Fleur's house, just the two of them. Usually they would meet out somewhere, or share meals back at her flat. There were difficult memories here at Shell Cottage but also good ones and the salt in the air felt cleansing. It was also nice seeing traces of the blonde in all the decorative touches of her home.
"So then what happened?" asked Hermione, finally catching her breath.
"Well, 'is wife finally noticed."
"Uh oh."
"And I was concerned she would turn her ire on me, as wives usually do, but this one was smart. She knew it wasn't my doing and she grabbed 'im and slapped 'im."
Hermione lost it again, giggling and almost missing her glass of wine as she reached for it on the coffee table.
"She dragged 'im away without another word."
"Thank goodness he didn't touch you, though," said Hermione, taking a long sip and finishing her glass.
"Oui. I would 'ave 'exed the shit out of 'im."
Hermione laughed lightly then smiled fondly at her friend, who smirked back at her.
"How did you have such control with all those sex-crazed idiots back at Hogwarts?"
"I didn't. You and I didn't exactly run in the same circles so you probably don't know but I 'ad to 'ex many a student before they got the message. It wasn't enough to say I 'ad a girlfriend. Well, for parts of the year anyway."
At the mention of Fleur's ex, the girl before Bill, Hermione felt a strange tightness in her chest and her tongue suddenly felt thick in her mouth. Shaking it off, she forced a smile.
"I'm so sorry for how they harassed you."
"It's all right. By the Yule Ball, I 'ad it managed. Roger Davies was a pleasant enough date and got me to forget Simone for a little while."
Again, the ex-girlfriend. Hermione already knew the story, of how it had been a tempestuous off-again, on-again type of relationship, of how Simone was in the same year as Fleur but had stayed behind at Beauxbatons, and of how Simone had not been her first girlfriend but had been her first lover. Just thinking the word made Hermione uncomfortable and she decided to focus on the reference to the Yule Ball. She felt warm remembering how Fleur looked back then.
The wine loosened her tongue and she said, "You were very beautiful that night."
Fleur smiled coyly and answered, "I wish we'd known each other then. I would've asked you to dance."
She took another sip of her wine, feeling the heat of the alcohol and the heat of the idea of dancing with the most desirable girl at Hogwarts that year. Her attention wandered to the radio which Fleur had turned on earlier and "Smoke Gets In Your Eyes" started playing. Both women enjoyed old pop songs and standards and the current one had been a favorite love song of Hermione's parents. Despite its sad meaning, her parents would often dance to it while preparing meals or just because, and as a child she'd dreamed of dancing to it with her own future spouse. An image came to her mind now and curiously, her imagined partner did not have red hair.
Ignoring the blush rising up her neck, Hermione voiced a wish that had lingered in the back of her mind for a few years now, never thinking she'd ever have cause to bring it up. It didn't mean anything, just a random thought that would pop into her head now and then. But given the topic, she figured it would fit in with the joke. If Fleur balked, she would just blame the wine.
"And I wish I had asked for a dance at your wedding. Before the whole Ministry falling and everything."
"Well, who wants to dance after that?" Fleur quipped before looking away, eyeing her glass of wine.
Hermione chuckled and finished off her wine and hoped she hadn't made her friend feel awkward. She got up off the floor and fell back onto the couch, keeping her gaze on the blonde.
Fleur turned back to Hermione, an odd look in her eyes.
"We could dance now," she replied in a low voice. The blonde smiled, trying to maintain the lightheartedness of their earlier conversation, but it didn't change her eyes and the brunette was captivated by the mystery in them.
Hermione didn't know why her heart started beating so hard. Fleur's thrall felt strange, tentative, almost like a confused eagerness but there was something else, something small in the background and it was sharp and prickly. Was that fear? It didn't feel like the fear she'd sensed during the last battle at Hogwarts. And yet, it reminded her of it. Why would Fleur be afraid? If Hermione had been more sober she would've been able to figure it out. Instead the wine dulled her senses and she couldn't be sure she was correct about how Fleur's thrall felt. Hermione became flustered. The blonde wasn't supposed to respond like this, she was supposed to laugh. Then Hermione would laugh and they would gaze affectionately at each other and that would be that. Weren't they just joking around? Was this a tease? She closed her eyes and felt the dizziness in her head.
Instead of answering, she said, "I think I'm too intoxicated to apparate home."
When she opened her eyes, Fleur was standing up and gesturing towards Hermione to follow.
"Come, the guest room is waiting." The thrall was soft like a blanket now and it felt nice. Whatever confusion Fleur had been feeling was gone.
Hermione stood up and followed her friend up the stairs until she reached the room that she had stayed in after Malfoy Manor. The blonde walked in and helped prepare the bed. Hermione felt embarrassed for some reason. And very hot. She remembered cuddling with Fleur in this bed during one of her nightmares while she was recovering from her torture. When the Veela turned to her, Hermione thought she caught a light blush but she couldn't be sure and she blamed the wine. Fleur wished her goodnight with a light kiss on her cheek and quickly exited the room, leaving Hermione behind, feeling like she had missed something.
When Hermione felt the ghost of a cheek brush against her own, she blinked out of her memories and realized how much closer she was now to the Frenchwoman. Her arms were wrapped around the woman's shoulders and she could feel the linked hands on her lower back. They were swaying together rather than following any formal dance steps.
Seeking distance, she said, "We should probably talk about… um… what we'll be… I mean… I made a list in my mind…"
Hermione gestured to the bed and Fleur's eyes twinkled.
"A thoroughly researched list, I am sure," Fleur teased. Hermione tried to pull out of the dance but the blonde held on tightly. "We don't 'ave to talk about that now, though."
An arched eyebrow made the brunette suck in a breath, an image coming to her of a naked Fleur, sweaty and waiting for the next thing Hermione wanted to try.
"So, do you often have to travel for these types of engagements?" Hermione rushed out, trying to regain some power by referencing Fleur's occupation.
A prolonged silence made Hermione frown. Glancing up, she saw how the Veela wouldn't look at her. The brunette released a slow breath, realizing in disappointment what that look meant.
"How long have you been back?" she asked through gritted teeth.
"About four months now," the blonde replied quietly. "Currently I'm a freelance curse-breaking consultant for Gringotts but they 'ave recently offered a full-time position and I am negotiating the terms."
Fleur's mouth was open as if she wanted to say more but then she closed it. Hermione fumed with several bitter retorts on the tip of her tongue, wanting to admonish her former friend for not getting in touch with her, for being so close and her not knowing it. The thought of Ginny knowing and not telling her hurt, too. She was definitely going to have words with the redhead.
Incredibly, Hermione stayed silent, letting Fleur's obvious guilt be enough to placate her anger.
Their dance became stiff again but Hermione actually welcomed it. She'd gotten too comfortable and needed to remember that this didn't mean anything to the blonde.
"I'm sorry, 'Ermione," Fleur whispered.
Hermione didn't say anything. Fleur's apology wasn't enough and she'd be damned if she was going to do anything to help the woman's guilt ease.
"I'm sorry for everything. For…"
"Stop," said Hermione firmly, shaking her head. "No past, remember? Your rule."
Fleur sighed. "I was nervous when I said that, I thought you were going to kill me."
"I still might."
"I would probably deserve it."
"Fleur," Hermione breathed out. As angry as she was, she would never wish true harm on her former friend.
"Fine. But perhaps acknowledging some of our 'istory would 'elp. It would make it better for the both of us, non?"
"I thought tension was supposed to be good for sex," quipped Hermione, inwardly questioning why she was suddenly fighting against addressing their fallout.
The Frenchwoman laughed. "I suppose that is true. But resentment and anger aren't really what you're looking for tonight, are they?"
"And yet you showed up anyway," snapped Hermione, but then she felt bad at the hurt that passed over Fleur's face. She added sadly, "Besides, I doubt there are many safe subjects for us to discuss."
"Yes, well, why don't we start with something you likely would 'ave brought up?"
"Such as?"
"Such as your current experience level. My understanding is you've never been with a woman. Is that really true?"
"Oh," Hermione squeaked out of her suddenly dry throat. She blushed and nodded, looking away.
"I'm surprised."
Hermione turned sharply to her and stopped swaying to the music.
Giving a soft smile in an apparent attempt to calm Hermione, Fleur continued, "You never mentioned you liked women. I'd spoken of Simone a few times, including the couple of short-term girlfriends before 'er, and you never said anything."
"I didn't know then."
"Ah, a recent revelation, 'ence the inexperience. Is it only women you're attracted to?"
Hermione clenched her jaw and heard the unspoken questions. Had she loved Ron? Had she married him knowing she wasn't attracted to men?
"Yes, only women. And… I realized it about a year and a half ago."
Fleur's jaw tightened in response. The blonde stared at her for a long time and Hermione straightened, defying Fleur to point out how long she had stayed with Ron after realizing her sexuality before finally leaving him, to bring up that 'about a year and a half ago' was when the New Year's Eve party occurred. She could tell the blonde had done the mental math. But she stayed silent and roughly pulled Hermione against her and began leading her into another slow dance.
"That must've been difficult for you." Her voice was ragged, her jaw still clenched and now Hermione could see how the Veela was trying to hold back.
"You have no idea," whispered Hermione, turning her face away to fight against the temptation to lean in and press up against Fleur.
She could feel her anger coiled between them and she was grateful for the blonde's restraint. It helped her bite her own tongue. And dancing with Fleur, being engulfed by her perfume and the memories of missed chances, it was better than yelling at her.
"Have you been with anyone since Bill?" Hermione asked suddenly. She winced. "I mean, of course you have. Escort, right? What I mean to say is for yourself."
When she glanced at the blonde, she caught the other woman biting her lip.
"A few," replied Fleur softly, staring into Hermione's eyes.
The brunette wanted her to elaborate. She felt the questions bubbling up in her chest as well as a stab of jealousy but she pushed it down. It wasn't any of her business. Hermione knew full well the pain and loneliness that came with divorce. It had gotten so bad for her one night a few months back, she found herself at a wizarding club and had gone home with a man. She knew that she would not find release with him, that she didn't like men, but he was friendly and she was angry at herself for chickening out at the last second with the short-haired blonde witch that had been chatting her up. He was nice enough but it had gone the way it had always gone with Ron and when it was over, she felt terrible for not being true to herself. Afterwards, he wouldn't stop babbling about landing the Golden Girl and asking questions about Harry. Hermione had felt sick to her stomach and promptly gathered her things and left. She never mentioned it to anyone, not even Ginny, and that was when she began her research on paid escorts.
Fleur cleared her throat and said, "It wasn't serious with them. Temporary escapes, that's all."
It was not anything that Fleur needed to explain but somehow it made Hermione feel better.
They danced quietly for a couple of songs and Hermione stepped in closer until they were practically hugging, her head again resting on Fleur's shoulder, her face nestled in the woman's neck. Hermione liked this. As infuriating as the whole situation was, the familiarity was comforting. But this wasn't just a reunion with someone she'd lost touch with. This was Fleur Delacour. The woman who wouldn't leave her thoughts no matter how hard she had tried. The woman she'd fallen in love with before she even knew she liked women. The woman she still...
The song changed and Hermione decided the universe hated her. "Smoke Gets In Your Eyes" began to play and the pang of longing hurt her chest in a way she hadn't felt since realizing Fleur was never going to write her back.
Her arms tightened around Fleur and she spoke before she could talk herself out of it.
"I missed you, Fleur."
They weren't soft words. Hermione could hear the recrimination in them, the bitterness. She did miss her and she hated herself for doing so.
"I know, chérie. I know."
The brunette heard the sob that was choked underneath Fleur's reply, the apology, and it broke her to hear the emotion in it. To hear that Fleur was just as broken as she was by what happened.
They said some day you'll find
All who love are blind
When your heart's on fire, you must realize
Smoke gets in your eyes
Hermione buried her face further into Fleur's neck, listening to the song and fighting back her tears. She distracted herself by nuzzling the blonde with her nose, lips only a hair's breadth away from starting something. Fleur's grip on her back tightened and her thrall slowly made itself known. Hermione's chest burned with relief, glad to know she wasn't the only one losing herself in emotion. Turning her attention to what the Veela was feeling, she sensed a conflict between desire and sadness.
All too quickly the song ended and in the next song Fleur took her hands and twirled her around. Hermione let out a wet laugh and allowed herself to shake off the melancholy and enjoy being silly. They spun and giggled, and let the make-believe last a little longer. They were friends again, they joked and teased, and tried to outdo each other with dance moves completely inappropriate to the tempo of the songs being played. She didn't know how many songs they danced to like this but she wanted it to last forever. And when Fleur pulled her back in, Hermione effortlessly locked arms around her neck and kissed her.
At first Fleur didn't respond but then Hermione felt hands move along her back and soft lips open against her own. Just like before, it was so easy to give into this and playfulness quickly turned into heat. Fleur wanted her, she could feel it in her touch and through her thrall. She slid a hand under Fleur's shirt and settled it on the skin of her lower back. The Veela stiffened but then started trailing kisses down her neck.
Just as Fleur's lips recaptured her own, Hermione suddenly felt the edge of the bed against the backs of her legs. When did we move over here?
Strangely enough, she didn't panic at what she considered a logical progression from the initiated kiss. They were both adults and this was what they'd agreed to. However, a logical progression didn't mean her heart didn't hurt at the feelings she now felt through Fleur's thrall. And Merlin, she wasn't ready for how much this hurt. The first kiss on the couch had been a seduction, Fleur tempting her undecided self with possibilities only for it to turn into a type of catharsis for the both of them, a fulfillment of what might have been if Hermione had gotten out of her head long enough that New Year's Eve and kissed her like she'd wanted. This kiss held a different kind of weight. Intent, yes, but it was almost like Fleur was fighting some internal battle. There was yearning but also evasion, pleasure but also guilt. What was the Veela hiding? Underneath all of it was a restrained hunger, as if the blonde had been wanting this for years but was trying to hold it back. It wasn't fair to feel this coming from the other woman. Not after everything. It muddled her resolve to be okay with only having her for one night. To be okay with this not being any more real than a surface level attraction that allowed Fleur's Veela to fulfill this job's contract.
She needed more time. Just a bit more time to steel herself against all of her wanting.
"Ice," Hermione breathed out just as Fleur gently pushed her to sit on the bed.
Fleur sighed in between kisses, seeming to hear something else, murmuring 'mmm nice' and pushing her back to lie on the bed, shaky hands reaching for the buttons on her blouse. The thrall became thin and uncertain. Blue eyes avoided hers. It didn't feel right and it gave Hermione another reason to hit pause.
"Ice!" Hermione yelled, hands pushing Fleur back. She sat up, glancing down to find her blouse was still buttoned.
"What? What is it?" asked Fleur, confused.
Hermione reached over to the nightstand, grabbed the room key and her phone, then rushed to the door. Then she remembered she wasn't wearing shoes and stumbled over to near the coffee table to slip them on.
"We need ice for drinks, just in case." Yes, this is a reasonable excuse, Hermione thought as she practically ran to the door.
"'Ermione."
"I had a gin and tonic before you got here and I might want another." I also need to yell at Ginny.
"'Ermione, wait…"
"And maybe you'll want one, too." Hermione opened the door. Yell at her very loudly.
"'Ermione, you're forgetting something."
"What?"
"The ice bucket," Fleur responded with a forced smile and pointed to the table.
"Right. Yes. Good call," the brunette stammered, tripping over her feet as she went to grab the bucket. Now she was ready for her escape. She threw one more glance at the Veela, who had her hands clenched into fists and her brow furrowed. Hermione gave a weak nod as a sort of apology and fled the room.
::
Fleur watched Hermione run out, trying to keep herself from chasing after her. She could've offered to use a spell to conjure the ice but she held back due to how flustered the brunette looked; she also noticed the purse and wand the witch left behind so it wasn't as if Hermione was leaving completely. The blonde decided the other witch just needed time alone. Thinking about their night so far, they were making progress after some initial stops and starts. Dancing had worked out better than she'd hoped. The brunette warred with herself as she tried to figure out Fleur's angle but eventually she softened and began to respond to her efforts. Hermione had even kissed her without prompting, although she scolded herself for not being as relaxed as she could've been.
In fact, she was glad the other witch thought of an excuse to leave the room because Fleur needed to calm herself. Having fun like that, remembering how it used to be, only to be kissed and reminded of what was expected of her tonight, she couldn't summon that earlier resolve to draw out Hermione's passion. Instead she felt the guilt rising within her at the deception, and had to focus on preventing the brunette from sensing it. Moving her to the bed yet reluctant to even undo the buttons on Hermione's shirt, Fleur just didn't know if she could go through with it.
A year and a half ago. The words echoed in her mind. Could it be that Hermione's revelation about her sexuality happened at the same time Fleur realized her love for the witch? Had she missed more than a potential kiss that night?
The Veela looked around the room and went to the food. Nibbling on some bread and grapes, she tried to remain patient, silently repeating to herself her earlier reasons for why this was the best course of action, why she shouldn't dwell on what might have happened in the past. Even if Hermione had felt something back then, something that prompted a life change, Fleur had ruined it. The only things left in the brunette's heart for her were reproach and reluctant attraction.
A text alert broke the silence. Another one right after that prompted Fleur to go to her handbag and dig out her phone. The messages were from Ginny.
[Ginny] Why does Hermione think you're an escort?
[Ginny] call me right now
Merde. Hermione called Ginny and now everything was going to fall apart. Fleur quickly hit call on Ginny's number and hoped the redhead hadn't given her away.
"Fleur? You're an idiot. Give me a minute." That was all Ginny said before she put Fleur on hold. She came back on the line a minute later.
"Merlin's balls, I'm at the Burrow for a party, I don't need this. Why are you pretending to be an escort? That wasn't what you were supposed to do."
"I know."
"Both of you… so mental," muttered Ginny so softly that Fleur barely understood the words.
"I panicked, Ginny, all right? It's just better this way. She doesn't really want what I want. Please tell me you didn't say anything."
There was another silence.
When she came back, Ginny said, "I don't think I said anything but…"
"But…"
"But she's smart and like I said, you're an idiot. Hang on."
There was another silence and this time Fleur got the feeling Ginny wasn't just dealing with party guests.
Beginning to worry, she leaned towards ending the call, but Ginny came back on the line.
"Right. This is a bloody mess. You went with a lie instead of telling her everything."
"Ginny, I 'ave to go."
"This isn't how you want to do this, Fleur. You're going to ruin your chance again, just think –"
Fleur ended the call, powered off the phone, and put it back in her bag. Hermione would be back at any moment and she needed to think and brace herself for the younger witch's potential wrath. So far, she'd only made vague responses to Hermione's inquiries. They hadn't been direct lies; she hadn't actually said she was an escort. But she knew that would be a bullshit response if the brunette confronted her when she came back. Fleur could avoid it altogether by apparating to her flat but she'd been a coward for far too long. No matter what, she had to stay and play this out.
She heard the door's locking mechanism unlatch. Fleur quietly watched a calmer looking Hermione enter the room and carry the full ice bucket to the table with the food. She also placed her phone and room key there. The flushed flustered look was gone but she didn't look angry. In fact, it was difficult to get a read on her altogether. Fleur braced herself, quickly stifling her thrall.
"I thought maybe you 'ad changed your mind," Fleur said simply.
"No. I just wanted ice. Have you changed your mind?" Hermione looked at her with a pointed stare and she realized that the brunette was trying to feel for her thrall to get a sense for the truth. Does Hermione know?
"Non. I still want this if you do."
"Okay. Now that that's out of the way, I just have some clarifying questions about this transaction."
It was not unfriendly but it wasn't warm either and it set off additional warning bells in Fleur's mind. She knows, she knows.
In an even voice, and giving a relaxed smile, Fleur replied, "Ask away."
A/N: We are getting close to the end! Two more chapters to go. And I'm quite happy I will be able to stick with my intention to keep this under ten chapters. Thanks for reading!
P.S. the version of "Smoke Gets In Your Eyes" used here is the one by the Platters
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Avatar1989: you and me both!
IAmFrustration: I appreciate you sticking with it, in spite of my preference for a slow burn here. :) Thanks for the comment
ceMR: useless lesbians indeed lol
kitten in the rainbow: Thank you so much. I'm doing my best not to shortchange any of what they're feeling.
xxDark Angel Babyxx: Sorry for the long wait, hope you liked it
bechloeorbhloe: Many thanks, glad you're liking it