The next few days were filled with the tentative unlearning of past habits, along with wobbly first steps into making new ones. Hermione found she didn't have to talk a mile a minute to get everything out before someone shut her down - Fleur listened to her patiently, and often asked questions, or corrected her, which was an entirely new experience for Hermione. She quickly realised that once she was willing to see it, it was obvious that Fleur was every bit as intelligent and knowledgeable as her, if not more so in some subjects.

They fell into an easy rhythm, meeting every other day or so. Fleur didn't have the luxury to go on a vacation on a whim, so Hermione, being on a sabbatical still, had to be the one that adapted to her schedule. Fleur would get home around five in the afternoon, and Hermione would apparate over at around six, leaving time for her to settle.

They were off to a great start. They slowly learned the mannerisms of the other, and found themselves having decent conversation more often than not, which surprised both of them. However nice it was, at first, Fleur felt a bit off. It took one or two meetings after that to pinpoint it entirely : Hermione was determined, it seemed, to walk on eggshells around her, never even attempting to decide anything. Whenever Fleur asked her preference on a beverage, a place to go, or an activity, she would brush it off and say "Whatever you feel like is fine" or "I can't decide, what do you think would be best?" or "It's fine for me either way".It was exciting at first, to explore the possibilities of her flights of fancy, but as time passed, Fleur wished more and more to take the backseat for a time - to get to know what kind of a person Hermione was - Was she a tea or coffee person? What was her favourite cuisine? What did she like, besides research? She tried and tried to deflect the decision back, but Hermione was as mule-headed as ever. Fleur was grateful for it, somewhere not even that deep down, but she also felt conflicted. She knew why Hermione tried to behave this way, but she felt she had to tell her to tone it down - only, she couldn't seem to find the right words that wouldn't sound ridiculous, hurtful, ignorant, or downright hypocritical. No matter how many times she tried to deflect, to clue Hermione into what she wanted, one evening, she just exploded at her in her frustration.

"Mon DIEU, 'Ermione!" She exclaimed, hitting her palm on the top of the dining table, making Hermione jump. "Pardonne-moi, but it would make me very happy if you could just decide for me for a change. Z'ere! Z'at is what I want. You have my explicite permission to make a direct statement of your preference! I promise that I won't turn into a mindless husk the moment you talk about your favourite food, or… or… Je sais pas! I'm a grown woman, not a china plate!"

The following silence rang painfully between the walls, and for a beat, they were frozen, just staring at each other. Hermione looked stricken. Fleur could see, in great detail, almost as if in slow motion, as the corner of Hermione's mouth turned stubbornly downward and started twitching. Fleur felt like she was dropped in a tub of ice water. Instantly, she deflated.

"Hermione-" She started again, her voice small.

"You did say it would be trial and error." Hermione said, her voice breaking pitifully. "I just didn't imagine it would be this part that would be the problem. I tried to..." She trailed off, and averted her gaze.

"Hermione, I'm-"

"Don't. Just… I guess, lesson learned on both sides."

Hermione stood from the table and walked over to the sink to wash her face. Fleur felt a painful twist in her chest at the sight. She drew in a long breath, and let it out slowly. She couldn't afford putting her foot further into her mouth. They were doing so wonderfully up till this moment.

"I had no right to lash out like that. You only have my best interest in mind, and you don't deserve to be treated like this."

She could see Hermione turn her head slightly to hear her better, even if she was still leaning on the sink. She soldiered on before she lost her nerve.

"I am deeply sorry for how I said it, but my point still stands. I'm not a dainty little flower or an infant."

"But we don't even know your limits yet!" Hermione interjected

"And we never will if we don't even test them! Hermione! You can't possibly think of this as a final solution. It would just… it would virtually be the same."

They looked at each other for a moment in the dim lamplight, Fleur sitting by the table and Hermione awkwardly half turned, leaning on the sink. Fleur could just make out the moment when Hermione's face fell further, but with resignation and recognition rather than hurt. She continued on in a softer voice.

"You are right that we don't know how I would react to anything, but I trusted you from the start not to let it get out of hand. It's very kind of you to give me space, and make sure that I'm secure in my ability to voice my opinions and wants, but while doing so, you've completely shut yourself out of the equation. You couldn't accept when what I wanted was for you to decide - and it's not pathological, let me tell you. I thought we agreed to get to know each other, but all we did was discuss or do what I wanted. I just… It would be nice… if we could be equals. Equals who both share who they are and what they want. Even if the want is not necessarily shared."

"You're right, of course" Hermione said after a beat, a bittersweet laugh playing around her words "I was so wrapped up in making you feel comfortable, in seeing how you found confidence… Here I go again thinking I'm selflessly helping you, and instead I pushed my will on you all the same. I never realised how annoying I must be. I'm sorry."

Hearing the apology twisted Fleur's heart in a strange way. She stood, and ventured closer to Hermione cautiously. She decided to lean against the counter with her back turned. Hermione looked at her with a myriad of emotions swirling in her eyes. Fleur's hand found hers without much delay, and she stroked the back of her hand gently, in a manner that she hoped was soothing.

"Non, Don't apologise! I was in the wrong, and I am sorry I didn't find a better way to express myself. It was actually quite chivalrous, you putting my every need before your own, for a time, but… you must realise, that couldn't have gone on forever."

Hermione lifted her hand and linked their fingers together hesitantly, humming in agreement. Her eyes were dry, and the corner of her lips were no longer pointing downwards.

"It's a bit of an adjustment, being wrong all the time." She said in a curious voice. If Fleur had to venture a guess, she'd say it was a dark amusement.

"It's a steep learning curve, but after a while, you just roll with it. Like last Friday, I could swear I did the rune sequence for entry into a high security vault in the correct order, seeing as I have to do it every week, but no - I got my eyebrows singed off and I spoke in limericks for the rest of the day… knocks you down a peg."

Her gambit worked - Hermione gave an undignified snort of laughter. The ice cold feeling that was gripping at her chest dissipated at once, giving way to radiating warmth.

"Were the limericks in French, or English?"

"Gobbledygook." Fleur deadpanned.

Hermione shook her head, clearly amused. She let go of Fleur's hand, turned around to face the same way as her, and leaned back on the sink. She put her hand back on the counter for support, close, but not touching.

"So… while I have your explicit permission." Hermione started slowly "I'd like to ask if you'd want to come by my apartment this weekend? I thought it might be nice to switch now and again."

"I'd love to see your place." Fleur said with a soft smile. At Hermione's hesitant smile in response, she beamed. She couldn't decide if she was imagining it, but it felt as if a warm breeze circled the both of them.

That Saturday afternoon, Fleur arrived at Hermione's building in Whitechapel with a bottle of wine in hand. She debated whether or not she should bring it, but she was nothing if not French, and well versed in the etiquette of being a house guest. Much as she would have prefered to floo or apparate over, Hermione lived in a muggle neighbourhood, so she settled for apparating onto a nearby side street and walking to her apartment. She guessed later on she could apparate onto her doorstep, but the walk was nice enough. The area was full of little green parks, a soft breeze danced around her, and birds sang their song, flitting about in the rare British sunlight. It truly was the perfect day.

She checked that she had the right address, and stepped up to the intercom. Remembering the careful instructions Hermione gave her, she pressed the button next to Matilda Wormwood, and waited. After a few beeps, Hermione answered.

"Hello? Is that you, Fleur?" came her distorted voice from the intercom

"Salut! It's me, yes."

"Come on up, top floor, stairs are to the left. I'll have my door open."

The door buzzed, and Fleur remembered to enter the building swiftly. She found the stairs and took them all the way up to the third floor. Hermione was there, leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed in front of her and a nervous tension in her posture. She wore a green apron over her clothes, and her hair was in a messy bun. Her face lit up immediately when she saw Fleur.

"And my little line cook has arrived! Welcome." She said, and stepped aside to let Fleur enter.

"Line cook? I demand to be promoted to sous chef!" Fleur said with mock indignation "And who is this Matilda? Is she your landlord?"

"It's from a muggle storybook - she's a little girl who likes to read and discovers she can do magic." Hermione explained quickly.

"Quite fitting." Fleur admitted with a smile, stepping into the apartment. "I brought a bottle of red, I hope it will go with dinner."

Hermione took the bottle and gave it a cursory glance before offering to take Fleur's coat.

"Thank you, it'll be perfect."

After putting the wine and the coat away, Hermione offered Fleur a tour. There wasn't much to it - a small bath, a kitchen, a living room, and a bedroom with a tiny balcony overlooking a nearby park.

"Is that the Tower of London?" Fleur gestured excitedly at a building in the distance as they both stood outside, hands on the railing.

"It is." Hermione said sheepishly

"Charmant. Do you like it here?"

"I've no complaints. It certainly isn't a whole house, but I never needed much of a… well, the way I've been travelling around."

"I've always wondered where you went off to, each time." Fleur muttered, but it must not have been quiet enough, as Hermione turned to look at her. They stood close together, their faces maybe a foot apart. There was a curious expression on Hermione's face, but it vanished in an instant, giving way to a frown.

"I rarely stayed long enough for you to find me if you wanted to. I'm sorry about that."

"You weren't ready, it's okay. It's not like I went around England kicking down doors looking for you."

Hermione gave a chuckle, no doubt imagining Fleur doing just that. Over their last few meetings, their attitude towards their past actions seemed to change - once they found themselves getting on fabulously, they agreed that the both of them were quite silly for stalling, in retrospect.

"Let's go open that wine, let it breathe a bit." Hermione suggested, bumping her shoulder into Fleur's in a friendly gesture.

They made their way into the kitchen, where various types of fresh produce lay on the counter. Fleur surveyed them while Hermione removed the stopper from the wine bottle and poured two glasses. Nonchalantly, Fleur stepped closer and snatched a glass, taking a sip with a coy smile.

"Hey-"

"I have to know if it is any good, I bought it! I can't offend my host!"

"So? Is it?" Asked Hermione with a growing smile of her own

"Exquisite! You should try some."

Hermione only thought about it for a moment before she lifted the other glass to her lips and tasted the wine herself. She took a noticeably bigger sip than necessary, and Fleur had the impression that maybe she was nervous and hoping for some relief from it. After all, this was new territory for the both of them. She decided not to comment on her thoughts as to not fluster Hermione further - she directed the conversation elsewhere instead.

"So what are we cooking?"

"Something to go with this wine, I hope - I have to admit, I'm not the best cook, so I'll need your help." Hermione admitted, a red flush appearing on her cheeks. Fleur smiled and stepped closer to her, bumping her shoulder with her own playfully.

"Hermione Granger, admitting she's bad at something? But don't worry, I'll keep your secret. Make room then, let me work my magic."

They looked at each other, smiling widely, for a moment. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the company, or maybe both, but Fleur found that she felt immeasurably lighter in that moment. A comforting, warm feeling filled her chest, making her feel like this was the right thing to do, the right place to be.

It was definitely that sip of wine that made her lean into this feeling - at least, that's what she told herself as she took another sip.

They settled on making a roast, as the prepwork was quick and the oven did most of the work. Hermione showed Fleur how to set the electric oven, so it could heat up while they did the chopping.

"It's magical." Fleur remarked

"It's really not." Hermione said with a laugh "It's just an oven."

"Hermione, I have a wood stove."

"All the more reason to come over from time to time, non?" Hermione asked, trying to look smug, but Fleur could notice the nervousness around the edges. She found it entirely too endearing, so she played along. As punishment for her cheek, she had Hermione chop the vegetables while she tended to the meat - a piece of pork shoulder. They sipped the wine as they worked, and by the time the meat was properly seasoned and the vegetables were all chopped, both of their glasses were empty.

"This is really good wine." Hermione mused as Fleur put the roast in the oven.

"Care for another glass?"

"Just a few sips - I do really want to have some with the actual dinner."

Fleur poured, and they settled on the couch with their legs folded under them. The couch was small, and their knees touched, but neither one of them seemed to mind.

"Thank you for inviting me. I must admit, this afternoon was much different than the ones we had so far over at my place." said Fleur, reveling in the light atmosphere

"Good different, though?" Hermione asked, a hint of worry and hope lacing her voice

"Oui, naturellement. Does this make you nervous, me being here?" Fleur answered with a question of her own. She saw Hermione avert her eyes and pick at a seam on the fabric of the couch.

"You'll think I'm silly." Hermione said, her tone soft, shy. "But I was so excited for today - I wanted it to go well. My… parents - we didn't have any houseguests while I was little, so I never learned how. With the Weasleys, I was over a lot, and they never made me feel like I intruded, and it was… I always wanted something like that. Have people over, eat, have a pleasant conversation - but without the chaos. And especially with you here, I don't want to mess this up. We've been having a great time so far, and I was afraid it would change when we're not at your place."

"Oh, ma chére, we could be sitting on upturned buckets, and you could serve me beans on toast and I would still have a great time." Fleur rushed to reassure, but quickly realised she'd maybe revealed too much. She blushed, the wine starting to make her feel warm. She saw Hermione looking at her with a soft smile, but she didn't comment.

"Pardon, what I wanted to say is, it's you that's the important component, not the place, or the food, or the activity. I'd come to visit you, for you."

Hermione blushed deeply, and was about to say something when she was quite literally saved by the bell. The timer in the oven went off, telling them it was time to add the vegetables to the roast. They made quick work of it, and back it went in the oven, leaving them to return to their conversation.

"We're really doing this, aren't we?" Hermione asked when they were already back on the couch in much the same position.

"Doing what?"

"I don't believe that after so much time I actually say this, but… we're… friends?" Hermione asked tentatively

"I think, yes. I've had a nice time so far. I do enjoy correcting the Great Hermione Granger, Order of Merlin, First Class!" Fleur said with mirth.

Hermione gave her a dark look with a cute pout on her lips, and Fleur froze for a second at the thought. Her mind hadn't taken a leap in this direction so far, and it was unfamiliar, new, and of course, incredibly ill timed. She blamed the wine, again.

"I jest-" She went on, after she cleared her throat loudly "But yes, I do consider us genuine friends. I enjoy your company, and it feels good to be here. I feel… more free, somehow. At Shell Cottage, we have a past that's always there. It's daunting sometimes."

"Why did you stay there, for all these years, if you don't mind me asking? I've always wondered."

"I was just stuck, I guess - and I told myself that this way, if you ever wanted to, you could find me." Fleur said haltingly, wringing her hands

Hermione leaned closer and put a hand on Feur's to stop her. They looked at each other for a few seconds before Hermione spoke.

"Thank you for waiting so long, it couldn't have been easy - although after the first year, you could just have left a sign saying "I moved to France, send me an owl for my address" or something. I would have figured it out."

"Oh, well… I suppose… " Fleur said, trailing off. She didn't want to admit to any more of her reasoning - not yet. She felt Hermione squeeze her hand gently, and relaxed.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." Hermione said gently

Fleur shrugged, then squeezed Hermione's hand in return. She didn't know what to say. Her whole life got upturned in as little time as a few weeks, and she felt swept up in it all - barely in control. Just prior to Hermione's arrival back into the country, she lived her days as no more than an automaton - work, eat, sleep, make mandatory visits to family, feign a good mood, repeat. Hope, in vain, that somehow, everything would fix itself, because she didn't have the power to make it happen. Feeling like she deserved this mess - and now, with just a few short visits, and a couple of long heart-to-hearts, she was sitting next to her mate, Hermione, holding her hand, and no longer feeling like there was a brick wall with barbed wire on top separating them. It simply felt too good to be true. Their prickly distance evaporated, leaving in its wake a feeling of being alive, worthy, and whole. She felt guilty for being incapable of resisting it, even though she couldn't fully trust it yet. She wanted to drink it in, in this new place, free of the past, and free of guilt and watching eyes, like a sweet mead, while he still had the time. Before it could go wrong. She let her head fall on the back of the sofa as she looked at Hermione. The late afternoon sunlight painted her curls golden, and gave a soft glow to her skin. Freckles ran across the bridge of her nose, and there was a quirk to her lips hinting at concern. Fleur wished she had a camera to capture her like this.

"Are you alright? I didn't know you were such a lightweight." Hermione asked, ripping her out of her thoughts - she was in the kitchen the next minute, pouring a glass of water which she carried back to the couch gingerly. "Here."

Fleur didn't bother to correct her assumption, leaving that discussion for another day. She took the glass with two hands, brushing fingers with Hermione, and drank. The cool water calmed her down a bit, and she muttered a quiet thank you.

The oven beeped once again, signaling that the food was ready. Hermione rushed to silence it, and got the pan out of the oven with a pair of kitchen towels, hopping from one foot to the other and whispering hot-hot-hot as she hoisted it on the counter, and quickly turned to run cold water over her hands. Fleur felt like her world was tilted on its axis as she looked on, entranced by this completely casual, everyday scene. This was Hermione, when she thought nobody saw her - or better yet, when only she saw her, and she didn't mind appearing vulnerable or silly.

Hermione looked over, and a bashful smile appeared on her face when she noticed her looking. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear that came loose from her bun, and turned away. Fleur quickly got to her feet, and offered to help her. Hermione declined, and as if she finally remembered she was a witch, with a wave of her wand, sent plates and cutlery flying from their respective places around the kitchen to make up two settings on the dining table. She also opted to levitate the roast over in lieu of making a fool of herself again. They settled down to eat with newly filled wine glasses, and generous portions on their plates.

"This is really tasty, we did good." Hermione remarked after the first few bites

"I agree. We make a good team, non?"

"We do." Hermione agreed with a smile. Her gaze lingered on Fleur for a few seconds longer than necessary, and she got caught looking when Fleur glanced at her again.

"I've been meaning to ask - what have you been up to while I'm at work? We've swapped stories of your past expeditions, but nothing recent came up."

"Well, what might have started out as fleeing desperately to the other side of the world ended up in quite an extensive collection of notes on sentient magical beings. Well, Merfolk and Centaurs are technically their own category, and don't get me started on Goblins, you know how Goblins are, but you get my meaning. I've been organizing and streamlining my notes so that I can present them to Gethsemane and actually get some work done. I might be accused of favoritism, but I want to revise the structure of the Being Division, and I have some great examples from abroad."

"Oh?" Fleur inquired, her interest piqued.

"Some of the… beings… expressed a distaste for the current structure, and I'd like to begin a series of discussions to consult them on how the Ministry could best help them - and, um… to put protections and sensible rules in place on both sides to achieve safe cohabitation. As a first step. Incremental changes. I've learned that you can't just drag people out of the middle ages by their ankles."

Fleur laughed, and set her utensils down.

"I hope you succeed. Somewhat of a personal interest, you understand." She said with a wink.

They finished their meal in between bouts of casual conversation, and finished off the bottle of wine in the process. By the end of it, both of them lost their composure and were positively giggly, so they opted to have a breath of fresh air. It was already dark outside, and rows and rows of street lights shone beneath them like a gigantic string of pearls. The balcony was still a tight fit for the two of them, but her inhibitions loosened by the wine, Fleur let herself lean against Hermione slightly as they surveyed the city lights. Hermione hummed in contentment, but gave no other indication that she noticed.

"Did you mean it? That I could come over more often?" Fleur asked

"I've been barging in on you for the past 8 years, you deserve some respite."

"You weren't barging anywhere. You mostly just… insistently stood there."

"Must have had a flair for the dramatic when I thought of that. I ruined so many shoes." Hermione admitted, laughing. The irony was not lost on her.

"So is that a yes, or…?"

"Of course it's a yes, Fleur. I know we agreed to try for the sake of trying, to escape insanity, but… in all actuality, I found that I like- to be around you." Hermione said with a curious pause. Fleur looked at her and caught her eye. Their faces were less than a foot apart, and she could have imagined it, but she saw Hermione's gaze flick to her lips for a fraction of a second before it snapped back to her eyes again. A rosy blush might have spread on her cheeks, but it really was too dark to see clearly. Fleur felt her face grow hot, too, with a strange, but not unpleasant tug in her chest.

It might be the wine. Fleur thought it was best if she left before they made fools of themselves.

"As much as I share the sentiment, I should probably get going. I don't want to overstay my welcome and make you change your mind!" She said softly, teasingly, as she turned in the direction of the door.

"Will you be safe to apparate?" Hermione asked, instantly back to her analytical self.

"I'll just walk a few streets over and call the Knight Bus. Don't worry, Ms. Wormwood, your secret will stay safe with me."

Hermione smiled warmly at her jab. They made their way in, and Hermione insisted on packing her a serving of the leftovers to go, and so she left her in the kitchen while she put her shoes and coat on. Hermione soon presented her with a neatly wrapped plastic box, and they found themselves at the part where people usually say goodbye and go their separate ways. Only, they both seemed to be under the impression that a customary wave didn't suffice anymore. They both awkwardly spread their arms and leaned in at the same time, and so they fell together, chuckling. The embrace was nothing like the one they shared back on the beach, with great heaving sobs and hands desperately grasping at each other's lapels. It was tentative, but right. Fleur squeezed Hermione with the plastic box in hand, as best as she could. Hermione squeezed back, and they both let go. They looked into each other's eyes, and before Fleur could thank her again for her invitation and say goodbye, there it was again - just a flick of the eye, down to her lips and back up. Curious. She averted her eyes and stepped back, although reluctantly.

"Thank you again for having me over. I had a lovely time. We should definitely do this again."

"Sounds great! Are we still on for Tuesday?"

"Of course. Good night, Hermione. Sweet dreams." She said, and had the urge to lean over and kiss her on the forehead, but stopped herself. It would be too much. It would be too soon. With a wave, she started down the stairs.

She thought about their goodbye the rest of the way home as the Knight Bus tossed her to and fro. She thought about how Hermione's skin would have felt against her lips as she settled in bed.

She blamed the wine.