Liquid Courage
AN: Oneshot. Fleurmione.
The room was warm, boisterous with the sounds of celebration, and filled with the smell of firewhiskey. It was a celebration to be sure, but Hermione couldn't find the spirit within herself to be joyous; because what was she really celebrating? The loss of family and friends, the damage done on children who were forced to fight an adult war, or perhaps she was to celebrate the loss of her innocence? Hermione huffed as her eyes drifted around the room. She didn't mean to be such a sourpuss, but she just couldn't bring herself to take part in the festivities. She could tell, even from across the room, that Harry was struggling as well, but her pseudo brother was having a better time hiding it, or ignoring it, as he smiled around his drink and kissed the cheek of Ginny, who was snuggled under his arm. Ron of course, was a different matter altogether. He flounced from person to person, his cheeks rosy from firewhiskey and eyes glazed with intoxication.
Hermione didn't blame him for it though, after the year he had, well, she wasn't going to put an end to his fun. He had been so good to George, helping him with the shop, and he had been so understanding when she broke off their relationship, no, she would let him have his fun. Of course, he still fancied that they'd get back together, most of the Weasley's did, only Ginny and Harry understood just how over it really was. It wasn't even Ronald's fault, not really, he had been a good boyfriend, attentive and sweet throughout the summer, but when Hermione went back to complete her 7th year at Hogwarts, she found herself growing, and outgrowing certain things.
She'd never outgrow her boys, but she knew her relationship with Ron had been a mistake. Sure she had a crush on him in school, maybe even throughout the war, but it just wasn't enough for a full blown relationship. Of course, she knew Ron felt differently, he loved her, but she hoped eventually that love would fade back to the friendly kind. Hermione shook her head, sighing as the party continued on. She had fun seeing the old faces and catching up on what everyone was doing, but now, as ocean eyes caught hers from across the room, not even the firewhiskey could lift her spirits. She should have known she would be here, it didn't matter that the divorce was six months ago, and it didn't matter that most of the Order members were a part of the Weasley clan; Fleur always showed up to these things. She was a war hero after all, even had her own O.M First Class for her work during the war.
Hermione sets her cup down on an end table, ignoring the eyes upon her, and makes her way through the kitchen, out the back door and past the garden till she gets to the barn where she makes herself comfortable on a haybale. She leans back against the wall of the barn, letting the cool air hit her flushed cheeks, and looks up to the stars. Maybe she shouldn't have come, she had never liked being the center of attention, so why come to a party in her honor? Oh yeah, she remembered, she had a penchant for living up to others expectations of her. Memories of fourth year surface in her mind as she looks up to the sky. She thinks about Rita Skeeter, who spread all those lies about how she broke the hearts of Harry and Viktor, thank god that vile woman never knew what she was talking about, otherwise Hermione just might have been exposed to the whole Wizarding World. It wasn't even her choice, anyone could be attracted to the Veela, it was the magic of their blood and in no way did it reflect on Hermione's actual feelings toward Fleur, at least, that's what she'd been telling herself all these years.
Hermione blushes at her own thoughts, her cheeks flushing red with the help of the Firewhiskey she had consumed.
"What a pretty sight."
Hermione jumps, a hand covering her racing heart as the owner of said voice giggles slowly and starts to appear from out of the shadows surrounding the Burrow. Fleur. Sapphire eyes burning brightly in the night, silvery blonde hair shining in the moon's light and skin so pale and flawless you'd think it was made of diamonds, that's how the world saw Fleur and Merlin, was it a pretty sight. As she looked past the Veela lure, Hermione thought she could see the slight flush of intoxication on those pale cheeks. She could see how Fleur's hair was more disheveled, like she'd been running her hands through it, something she did when irritated, and those pretty eyes held something more dangerous than the usual unphased aloofness.
Afraid she'd been caught in her admiration, Hermione licks her lips, looking away from Fleur's eyes and back up to the sky. "Yeah, they're quite pretty tonight."
She hopes a simple agreement will appease Fleur enough to leave her be, the last thing she needed right now was to be teased about being affected by the Veela lure. Fleur seemed to take it as an invitation though. A laugh falls from perfect lips once more as the blonde comes to lean against the barn wall, hovering above Hermione as though she were a hawk sizing up its prey.
"Are you not enjoying the party? It is in your honor, is it not?"
Hermione swallows thickly trying to ignore the onslaught of attraction that seemed to bubble up from her gut.
Her shoulders slump at the mention of the party making her remember the sourness from before, but she doesn't look back to Fleur, her eyes stay on the stars instead. "I see no reason to celebrate something that took more than it gave."
Fleur sighs a deep breath and it makes Hermione focus on her. Fleur gives her a small smile and falls to the hay bale next to Hermione; the move is so haphazard and uncoordinated, so unlike Fleur, that it brings a smile to Hermione's lips and without her permission, a laugh escapes her as Fleur's knee knocks hers, choosing to ignore the tingling of her skin from where it had come into contact with Fleur's. Fleur looks up, eyes wide and smiles even wider as Hermione laughs at her.
"Are you laughing at me, 'Ermione?" Fleur huffs as though she's offended, but the smile never leaves her face, and it chips away at Hermione's guard just enough.
"I think I'll have a bruise, so much for being all graceful and majestic." Hermione jokes, patting Fleur's knee lighting with her hand. "Must be the firewhiskey."
For a moment they both watch Hermione's hand, her fingers still brushing against smooth skin, creating goosebumps in their wake, though Hermione chalks it up to the chill of the night. When she moves her hand, she's surprised to find that she misses touching Fleur; Hermione clears her throat, uncomfortable with the insinuation.
Fleur scoffs and crosses her arms as though she's offended.
"Please, I have something stronger at home. This," She waves around the empty cup in her hand, "this is nothing, you couldn't handle the real stuff." Fleur smirks almost condescendingly and Hermione's pride flares at the challenge.
"You don't know what I can handle." Hermione argues with a small amount of arrogance in her voice. "I'm not that little girl in fourth year anymore Fleur, and I'm certainly not fragile like the last time we saw each other either."
Her words have more of a bite to them than she had meant them to, but even the insinuation that she couldn't handle something irked her to no end. She had kept Harry and Ron alive throughout their schooling, she had handled erasing her parents' memories, she had lived through the torture of Bellatrix Lestrange, and not to mention that she had survived, and helped end a war. There wasn't a limit to the things she could handle.
Bringing up the last night they had spent alone time together had soured the atmosphere. She couldn't tell what Fleur thought about it, or how she really felt about Hermione, but Hermione felt suddenly exposed. She had been so weak in those few days spent at Shell Cottage, and Fleur had seen it all. Hermione lifts her head up from looking at the ground, peaking at Fleur from the corner of her eye, waiting for a response.
"That is not what I meant, 'Ermione." Hermione turns to look at her as a gentle hand encases her own. "I have never thought of you as weak or fragile. You are the bravest, smartest and kindest woman I know."
Fleur's words are so soft and earnest that tears start to form in the corners of her eyes.
"Uh, thanks." Hermione clears her throat, embarrassed that she couldn't find a more articulate way to say thanks, because it did mean a lot that Fleur saw her that way.
Hermione sighs, her free hand wiping at her eyes as her other is squeezed by Fleur. It mattered to her what Fleur thought, period.
"So," Hermione forces out a laugh, breaking contact with Fleur as she goes to stand in front of her, "you have something stronger?"
For a short minute all they do is stare at one another, Fleur's eyes searching Hermione's for something unknown to the Gryffindor, and Hermione's pleading with Fleur to take the bait and switch the subject. Fleur's lips tilt to one side as she gives Hermione a crooked sort of grin as she too comes to stand.
"Much stronger." Fleur admits as she offers her hand to Hermione. "At home. Shall we, unless you'd like to go back to the party?"
Hermione grins in the night, already feeling much better at being given the choice.
She takes a second to look back onto the Burrow, watching the windows as people drift in and out of view, then, when she's ready, she looks back at Fleur, smile still firmly in place and maybe it's the liquid courage in her veins, maybe it's that innocent way Fleur looks in the light of the moon, she doesn't know exactly what, but something pushes her to take the offered hand. She still has to ignore the way her heart skips a beat when Fleur firmly grasps her hand, but she lets it happen, forgetting to question how right it feels.
"Let's go."
Fleur's answering smile is sweeter than anything Hermione had ever seen before and with a small tug she pulls Hermione into her space, her other arm secured around Hermione's waist. The last thing Hermione sees is Fleur's blue eyes sparkling before they fade into the night.
An empty bottle clattered to the floor, forcing giggles out of wine stained lips as Hermione and Fleur fought to keep themselves upright from where they sat on the floor, their backs leant up against the tattered couch. The Elvin wine was sweet on their lips and warm in their bellies, as it loosened their tongue and broke down the invisible barriers between them. The fire had long since died out and been replaced with Hermione's bluebell flames. Fleur had been particularly tickled that she could hold them in her hands without getting burnt, though there was now a small scorch mark in the middle of the floor from when they had tried to play catch with a small ball of flame.
Fleur looked at it every now and then, smiling softly everytime because now she'd have a permanent reminder of her favorite Gryffindor. Merlin, she was beautiful, Fleur thought as her eyes looked upon Hermione. Her curls had been swept up into a bun, but they were stubborn and a few had already escaped to frame Hermione's face. Her brown eyes were hazy with intoxication, but Hermione's natural cleverness still swam within them, and her pink lips were darker than normal because of the wine, but still just as kissable as they usually were, at least in Fleur's opinion.
The young woman before her was so different from the child she'd met during the Triwizard Tournament, and yet deliciously the same. Hermione was still clever, and so smart, her love for learning new things was still so present as was her need to be the best. However, there was something new, something she got from the war. Hermione had seen terrible things, had been through terrible things, and with it came a wisdom seen only in wartorn veterans. Fleur watched as Hermione took the last sip of her wine before setting her glass onto the wooden floor next to their scorch mark.
Fleur quickly followed suit, drinking down the last little bit of alcohol, hoping it'd give her the courage she needed to say what she'd been planning all night to say. Honestly, she had been waiting years to find the perfect time. She knew it was stupid, beyond ridiculous, that she has waited so long, but Hermione had been so young, and so obviously not ready that Fleur knew she needed to wait. It was a point of contention between Fleur and her parents, especially her mother, so much so that Appolline had threatened to disown Fleur when she announced her marriage to Bill Weasley. It was necessary in order for Fleur to stay in the country during the war, and it was a convenience for Bill to inherit his aunt's cottage for the Order, of course after the divorce Bill wanted nothing to do with Shell Cottage, he hated the beach.
Fleur was more than happy to take it, the place had held a special place in her heart since that fateful day when the trio had appeared out on the beach. She had seen how broken Hermione was, and still in all of her brokenness Hermione was still the most beautiful creature Fleur had set eyes on. Fleur had felt honored that she was the one to take care of Hermione; she had felt like such a failure of a mate before and that had given her a chance to make up for being so distant.
Now, as Fleur's lidded eyes caught Hermione's, she couldn't help but to feel like she was finally headed in the right direction, like maybe the past few years had actually meant something more than Fleur being afraid of her own destiny. With her insecurities hushed she found herself leaning in closer, her hands lingering upon Hermione's elbow as they laughed about their horrible choice in Weasley men.
"Oh Merlin, how did I find him attractive! I mean, have you seen him eat?" Hermione giggled unabashedly, her hand coming down to rest on Fleur's knee.
Fleur's breath caught in her throat as she waited, but Hermione never removed her hand, instead, her thumb starting slowly drawing circles over Fleur's jean covered knee.
"Non, we were not meant to be with them." Fleur admits, watching Hermione's face for any type of recognition, hoping Hermione would catch on to what Fleur really meant.
When she didn't Fleur huffed and tried again to gain Hermione's focus.
"Ermione?" Fleur questioned.
Hermione hummed, her head lazily turning to focus on Fleur. Fleur licked her lips, shuffling forward slightly as she searched Hermione's face for any clue that Hermione might feel the same way.
"Yes?" Hermione asked as Fleur remained silent.
Fleur couldn't take it anymore, her skin burned from the proximity of Hermione, and she feared her heart would stop working from how hard it was beating. Slowly, as though Hermione was some skittish woodland creature, Fleur brought her hand up to cup Hermione's cheek. She paused, giving Hermione the chance to back away. She wanted it, but only if Hermione wanted it too, and she was almost positive that Hermione didn't want it. She had convinced herself of it for years.
Hermione didn't back away though, in fact, she leant into Fleur's hand, giving a cute little sigh as she closed her eyes to Fleur's touch.
Maybe she was ready, Fleur thought as she pulled Hermione close. Maybe she loves me too. "Ermione?" Fleur asked, hovering just above Hermione's lips.
She waits till Hermione reopens her eyes, and when she does Fleur is not disappointed. A new passion was singing from within the chocolate depths, something Fleur had always wished would be directed at her, and now they were.
"Fleur…" Hermione sighed.
Finally the gap between them was closed, and as lips embraced each other, Fleur's world was turned upside down, because finally she had what she always wanted. Hermione's love was hers, and as she felt the bond between them grow and cement with their kiss, Fleur couldn't believe that she'd spent so long denying herself this. Hermione was hers, had always been hers, and now they both could feel it.
They pulled away, breathless from the power of their connection.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Hermione asked as her hands grasped onto Fleur's shoulders.
Fleur laughed, tears springing into her eyes. Hermione had felt the bond cement as well; they were bonded forever now. "I did not know what to say." Fleur said. Hermione laughed loudly and brought her lips to meet Fleur's once more.
Fleur thanked Merlin as she held her love in her arms. Finally she had her mate, and it seemed Hermione was more than happy to be there. Life had put them through so much, but it seemed it all happened for one very important reason. Fleur should have known not to question destiny.