July 2006
She stumbled out of the fireplace with a bit less grace than her usually stride due to the heavy burden in her arms. There was no way to shrink or lighten a precious manuscript such as this one, and she wasn't about to attempt transporting it via portkey. Wrapped in protective binding and pulsing softly with magic, she set her burden on the low table by the fireplace before flicking her wand to get rid of the ash with a quick cleaning charm.
"Mi, is that you?" Steps thudded down the stairs before a tall redhead appeared in the doorway, looking at her expectantly before noticing the book and grinning broadly. "You found it!" He positively exclaimed.
"Just about though, it was a pain in the arse to obtain it, I'll tell you that," she sighed, flexing and rolling her neck and shoulders, wincing at the cricks and pops that filled the room.
"Merlin Mi, you should get that seen to. Theo not taking good care of you?" Bill teased and picked up the wrapped book before carrying it to the kitchen which was their usual haunt.
"Ha-fucking-ha," she mumbled under her breath, aware that he could hear her crystal clear with his part-wolf senses.
He set the book down and looked at her properly as she stepped into the kitchen after him, his cerulean gaze taking in every detail as it did every time after she took a solo mission.
"I'm fine," she waved him off and headed for the stove, setting the kettle on to boil and readying the fine white teapot and their cups, knowing he never said no to a nice cup of Earl Grey. "Just tired, the runic circle protecting it took three hours to take down. It was quite magically taxing and I haven't eaten since breakfast," she admitted.
He frowned and pulled out a chair for her. "Sit, I'll finish making tea and get you something to eat. You got this for us, you get to unwrap it and tell me about it," he said, the words a little clipped but she knew it was from worry and care, not from anger directed at her.
It appeared strange to some, the closeness between them despite the eldest Weasley son's marriage, but their profession required absolute trust and they weren't willing to compromise on that. Curse-breaking was a fascinating profession but it wasn't without its dangers.
Hermione had been impatient for further studies after the war and once all the burials were concluded, she took her NEWTs over the summer, graduating with honours and best scores since Dumbledore himself. She could have had her pick - Harry and Ron wanted her to join them as Aurors, she received invitations for interview from no less than six Ministry departments including the Department of Mysteries, and Poppy was practically beside herself when she mentioned considering medicine. In the end, her choice was made when she received an offer of apprenticeship from the European Magical Institute, a prestigious offer that only ten young graduates received from the whole of Europe each year.
They were the best four years of her life to-date - studying the very fabric of magic before focusing on runes, transfiguration and charms as part of her mastery project. She became a Magical Mistress in the summer of 2002 and beamed proudly at half the Weasleys and her best friend who came to see her receive her medal in Brussels.
Coming back to Britain had been welcome then - she had missed her friends and Weasley Sunday lunches, despite Molly's propensity to attempt setting her up with one of her sons as she and Ron never actually got together after the heat of the Final Battle died down. The matriarch's current hopes still lay with George and Percy who were both unmarried, not that Molly picked up on the fact that Percy was seeing Pansy Parkinson of all people, and George was about as straight as a roundabout.
She wanted to specialise in a field and got talking with Bill during one of the Sunday brunches, and the idea for a private curse-breaking organisation with a social purpose was created. In the end they agreed to provide curse-breaking services and profits from this work would be re-invested into studying curses, research into some of the lesser known magic they encountered, and running a three-month curse-breaking internship programme for two seventh-years from Hogwarts per year. The concept had great potential and raising the initial capital wasn't difficult. Three years later, they worked closely on a nearly daily basis and had saved each other's lives in a tomb, cave or Gringotts vault too many times to count, only making their friendship stronger as each year passed.
A steaming cup of tea appeared before her, along with a small plate with two slices of the sourdough bread he liked to bake, covered in butter and Molly's famous gooseberry jam, her favourite. She positively groaned in delight as she took a large bite, forgetting her manners for a moment, her stomach grumbling in loud protest at only just being fed.
Bill chuckled in amusement. "Honestly, you better finish that before Fleur gets home," he warned. "You know she disapproves of you forgetting to eat."
Hermione took a sip from the delicious tea, made just as she liked it. "Yes, but not all of us have excellent genetics and Veela metabolism to be able to eat whatever and whenever we fancy," she mumbled more to herself than to him, starting to unwrap the book before her when they heard the crack of apparition and two sets of feet heading for the door.
They exchanged a look and Bill took the book into his study, leaving her in the kitchen by herself, with just enough time to chew another bite before the door opened and the little barrel that was four-year-old Victoire Weasley.
"MIMI!" She exclaimed and ran to her.
Hermione had just enough time to push away from the table and open her arms, picking the girl up with a grin and spinning her around. "How is my favourite girl?" She beamed and hugged her tight.
"Gramma Molly made my favourite cake and Oncle Char brought me a dragon," she beamed happily, her beautiful silver blond ponytail swaying as she positively bounced in Hermione's arms and showed off the yellow Swedish Shortsnout plushie in her hands.
"It's beautiful," she chuckled. "Want to go take it up to your room before I tell you about the dragon I saw yesterday?"
Her beautiful large eyes widened with excitement. "You saw a real dragon too?! Okay, I be back," she squirmed down from her arms to the floor and dashed for the stairs.
"No running!" Fleur's voice carried through the house as she stepped in and closed the door behind her. Despite turning thirty just last month, the blonde looked barely a day over 22, her soft Veela shimmer dancing across her skin and lithe figure moving with fluid grace. She was dressed casually for the day at the Burrow in a comfortable white cotton sundress, her deep sapphire eyes clearly pleased to see her safe and back home.
Hermione smiled at her tiredly, always happy to see the woman she would easily call her best friend these days.
"You look like sheet," Fleur tutted and came up to pull her into a hug, and pressed a kiss to her cheek.
"That's because I feel like it. I think I'll need to sleep for a day or so to give my magical core some time to recover," she admitted before she allowed excitement to reach her smile. "But we got it. With this manuscript we'll be able to help the Malfoys," she said confidently, feeling positive about being able to help tackle the blood curse Astoria Malfoy nee Greengrass was beginning to feel the full effects of.
"Of course you got eet, you're brilliant. Now seet and finish your food before you crash in the guest room," she instructed, heading for the cupboards to get herself a clean mug for the tea and Victoire's cup and squash.
"I don't want to impose, I need to sort out my flat anyway so might as well do that tonight," she suggested.
As much as she wasn't a stranger to staying in the couple's guest room at the beautiful Shell Cottage from time to time, she was well enough for one more apparition to her little flat in Soho.
"Non, you stay here, that way you can talk to Bill in the morning and we catch up over breakfast," Fleur pointed out and sat down beside her, topping up her cup before pouring her own.
Hermione admitted that was a good plan and finally nodded as she finished her first slice of bread. "Thank you, as always," she said softly and drank the tea gratefully. "How's everyone at the Burrow?" She ventured.
She'd been away on this assignment in Germany for over a week and missed the usual gathering. She was taking on more of the traveling these days as Bill preferred to stay close to the family but took the option to join her from time to time when it was particularly pertinent to not go alone. She could always rely on the two to catch her up on any news though.
"Ronald brought the girl he is seeing, Susan. She is sweet, has this fun…rire," she mused.
Hermione chuckled, remembering the Hufflepuff's loud laugh very well. "I think they're well suited together. He's been ready to settle down for a while I think."
Fleur nodded in agreement. "Ginevra is round and ready to give birth in a week or so. They are thinking of calling the boy Albus Severus," she grimaced a little at the obvious name, amused when Hermione's shudder reflected her own feelings about it.
"I love Harry, I do. I just don't understand why Ginny lets him pick the names…" she muttered.
Severus she could abide. The man had been an utter bastard and selfish in his reasoning but his mind, so vast and brilliant, had been a loss, and it was also thanks to him that they survived their school years and the war. Dumbledore though, that was a hard pill to swallow. The chess master had been just as powerful as Voldemort in the end, with his own skeletons that haunted his image of a white leader. Most thought him to be one of the greatest wizards ever to live, but for Hermione he was a man who allowed a child to remain in an abusive household and raised like a lamb for slaughter. That she couldn't abide and for Harry to honour the man in such a way grated her but she would of course nod and smile because it was none of her business.
Fleur's quiet snort drew her attention again and she smiled at her dear friend. "What about you? Are you thinking of another one some time soon?"
Fleur sipped her tea in contemplation for a moment. "We haven't discussed eet but we'll see. I am just glad to have Victoire. Maman struggled to get pregnant again, Gabrielle was a miracle child. We'll see how I do," she said softly. There was no platitude that would provide comfort in face of such difficulty so she just reached across and gently squeezed her forearm in silent support. Fleur acknowledged the gesture with a small smile before taking a sip of her tea and shifting the subject. "And you and Theodore. He's been good for you, non?"
Hermione's gaze dropped and she took a deep breath. "Actually, Theo broke up with me, while I was away. He sent a letter," she grimaced at the memory of the short missive telling her he met someone else at work and didn't think they would work long term, dropping her just like that after nine months of seeing each other.
Fleur frowned and was about to respond when a loud, happy giggle sounded in the hallway and Bill stepped back into the kitchen, Victoire in his arms like a little dragon herself, flying and laughing.
"Daddy put me down, I want to sit with Mimi," she squirmed in his arms until he did just that before unceremoniously climbing up like a little spider-monkey into her lap.
"Hey, ready for the dragon tale?" She grinned and petted her silver hair when Victoire beamed excitedly.
She was exhausted but this little girl right here was worth every moment remaining awake.
Feeling much more human after a quick shower, she towelled dry and slipped on her shorts and strappy top, wandlessly summoning her jasmine oil from the depths of her beaded bag. It had remained her constant companion when she realised she couldn't part with it without anxiety after the war. Now, with the amount of books, resources and necessities she needed for work travels, she was all the more glad to have kept it.
She began with her arms and smiled at the majestic creature tattooed into her skin coiled all the more tighter around her arm. It had started as something with a purpose, to hide the daily reminder of her inferiority carved into her arm. Bill had kindly removed the curse but the scarred word 'Mudblood' would never go away, so she made the choice to turn something that was meant to break her into something that signified her new life and hard-earned freedom.
She wasn't sure what to go for at first, and the idea of a large piece was a bit terrifying but she decided to brave it and picked the design that spoke to her most. And so a couple of days later, she found herself panting with pain, this time a voluntary kind, as the last of the magical lines and colours were added. She could still remember the first time she flexed her knuckles and the magical tattoo came to life, the beautiful majestic bird blinking up at her.
It had been an easy choice in the end - a red and gold phoenix rising from the ashes now wound itself from shoulder to wrist, its plentiful tail making the scarring blend in seamlessly. She smiled fondly at the beautiful colours against her warm tan skin before rubbing the rest of the oil into her other arm, admiring the later additions.
Runic and sigil tattoos weren't a popular custom anymore but their ancestors used to tattoo runic symbols into their skin to protect themselves, help with wandless magic and to ward off evil non-beings such as dementors that used to occur naturally. So much of the old magic had been lost but as she concluded her studies, she felt all the more connected to the magical ancestors who didn't recognise light or dark magic but rather a grey spectrum of choice and intent in all magical works that ensured their survival.
It was…liberating in a sense. She recalled how impressionable and righteous she used to be in her naivety. Always believing the good will conquer the bad and so sure that her opinion was correct and matterd. But no one was ever wholly good or bad, they all had desires, faults and bad habits. The more she read about the balance of nature and magic, the more she understood that human and magical nature was beyond this dichotomy. She made a choice, every day, to use her magic for positive impact and little charms that benefitted her friends, her own wellbeing and her home.
Her runes were aligned with her magical core and what muggles would call chakra energy;
Ansuz, the rune spoken word, communication, learning, the taking of advice, and the acquiring of wisdom sat at the bottom of her throat, just above her clavicle in thin lines of black ink;
Laguz, the feminine rune of intuitive knowledge that had protected and guided her heart's decision in tandem with her rational mind. It sat upon her heart chakra to always guide her throughout her life;
And Ehwaz, the rune of change, transformation and journey and safe travels over her solar plexus to feed her will and trust in the process, not just the destination.
She felt her magical core pulse beneath her ribs as she moisturised her décolletage carefully, tired and weakened but nonetheless recognising the gentle touch on her runes and the new sigil of transmutation she got just a couple of weeks back.
She was by no means covered in tattoos but the ones she held brought great comfort and meaning to her, and saved her several times by supporting her focus and wandless channeling of magic to get them out of a tough situation or two.
She was pulled from her task by the gentle knock on her door and smiled at Fleur when she poked her head in.
"Hey, brought you some camomile tea for your bedside," she offered, the tisane a long tradition between them, especially as it used to be the best thing to keep her hydrated and soothed during her first stay at the Shell cottage awhile she recovered from Bellatrix's torture. It had been the first seed of their friendship and the smell of camomile was something she would always associate with the blonde.
"Thank you, I'm just about ready to drop off," she admitted and set her oil on the side, wand under the pillow and climbed under the light summer duvet.
Fleur set the cup down for her and perched on the edge of the bed. "You know you're always welcome to stay, non?" She asked, her dark eyes taking in her tired feature.
Hermione looked at her curiously. "I am," she motioned at her current seat.
"Non, I mean for a while. Stay here with us, if the flat is too much or you need company. You are always welcome here," Fleur squeezed her hand encouragingly, not wanting her friend to be lonely after another tough break up.
"Thank you, I promise to stay more often at least. I can babysit for you again if you fancy going on a date," she offered, babysitting the little girl for the couple, one of her favourite pastimes.
"I just might take you up on that," Fleur grinned and headed out with one final wave, wishing her good night.
Hermione lay back, stretching her tired body out for a few delicious moments and felt the tension leave her body at the familiar surroundings and smells of camomile, sea and cedar wood. Shell cottage would always smell a bit like home…
She stumbled out of the guest bedroom, hair an absolute riot and hand just about managing to cover a giant yawn as she padded down the stairs on bare feet and beamed at Victoire who was already awake and chatting to her mother as she ate her cereal.
"Morning," she greeted and accepted a cup from Fleur as she sat down and fixed her first cuppa while the moka hissed a little on the stove.
"Good morning," Fleur set down the butter and soon joined them at the table, helping Victoire tidy when she dipped her spoon just a little too vigorously before pushing the bowl away and getting back to her morning colouring. "You look a bit better."
Hermione nodded. "I always sleep much better here. I think it's the company and the sea air," she admitted, sipping the rich brew. "I might need your help later on today," she hinted.
"Translation or theorem?" Fleur asked as she cut open one of the rolls and handed Hermione one half, the two of them going about gathering cheese, ham and vegetables onto their plates.
"Both. There's a passage in Arabic which I can't read and one of the sequences described may need further investigation before we decide to cast," she admitted, looking at the little blonde head seated next to Fleur and decided not to mention any names. "Family curses tend to warp over time, from the original casting. And if I understood her correctly, this was the ninth generation suffering this curse. The original castings and its current form may have altered slightly, not in nature but perhaps in trigger or impact? We'll have to do another interview to establish this before we amend the counter-curse formula," she explained.
Fleur nodded. "I have a budget meeting in two hours but after that, I'm all yours," she promised.
"Should I be jealous?" Bill grinned from the doorway, leaning against the wooden pillar in a white t-shirt and loose purple boxer shorts with rune puzzle print.
Hermione raised a brow at his attire pointedly. "I mean I don't think so, but I am prettier," she pointed out matter-of-factly.
Fleur grinned at her husband's mock-hurt expression, enjoying the way his eyes lit up in humour. "Tarts," he snickered, masking the words with a cough so Victoire didn't pick up on the adult teasing.
"Is that any way to refer to your wife?" Fleur joined in, frowning at the handsome man she was privileged to call husband.
He swooped down and kissed her lips with a hum, making Hermione chuckle as Victoire scrunched her nose, clearly not understanding why the adults felt the need to kiss like that. "Mimi look, I drew you a dragon," she showed off her latest picture proudly and Hermione oohed over the simple drawing that she could see was done with great care.
Judging by the heavy use of yellow and grey, it was a drawing of a Swedish Shortsnout not dissimilar to the plushie now decorating the little girl's bed. "It's beautiful, thank you! I'll have to add it to the fridge when I get home," she promised. "And what are you up to today?" She asked.
"I'm seeing Teddy! He promised to show me how to fly on his new bigger broom!" Victoire bounced in her seat and for the rest of breakfast the adults ate quietly as they listened to her latest stories from seeing the teal-haired boy.
Chuckling at the children's shenanigans, her gaze lifted to the couple across from her, catching the small, private exchange of fond looks and soft intimate smiles. She dropped her gaze back to her plate and bread roll to give them their privacy, and yet somehow she could tell that the way those two looked at each other, they were just as much in love today as they had been on their wedding day.
Fleur reached up and cupped Bill's scarred cheek for a moment, a tender gesture she'd used many timessince he got the injury to reassure him of her love and presence. He leaned into her touch before remembering they had company, even though Hermione felt like family. And looking at her across the table, helping Victoire pick her next drawing subject, he felt once again like she belonged in their lives somehow.