- - this chapter was all written at like 3 in the morning.

Chapter 6 - A Fool Could See Just How Much I Adore You

The next morning, Hermione was sure she was dying.

Her headache had only grown with time, and she wondered if she could self induce a coma so she wouldn't have to experience it.

That wouldn't be a good idea anyway.

Desperately, Hermione's hand fumbled with the drawers of the night stand. Bill had handed her a potion for her headache last night, and with the stupidity only a person high on weed could muster, she had altogether skipped the step of actually drinking it and deposited the potion in the nightstand.

She groaned as her hand blindly brushed aside things that definitely weren't small glass vials. Where the fuck was it? This wasn't some sort of magic nightstand was it? Hermione briefly wondered if the nightstand had vanished the potion for the hell of it. Magical furniture usually had knacks for being absolute dicks.

Hermione stilled as her hand soon came into contact with the smooth wood of a wand. She forgot it was in there. Staring up at the ceiling with her hand jammed into a drawer, she pondered the consequences of just snapping it here and now. There were a lot.

She gripped the wand and pulled it into her sight. Immediately her heart pounded faster and her chest felt a little tighter.

Okay so maybe the whole facing your demons thing wasn't a good idea right now.

Before Hermione could go down that road, there was a soft knock on the door, followed by a silvery voice.

"Hermione? Are you alright?"

No. "Yes."

The door opened slowly to show Fleur, with clothes folded above her arm, looking concerned as ever. "What are yo-" Fleur's eyes landed on the wand in Hermione's hands, and the look on her face became steely.

In a blur, Fleur discarded the clothes on top of the bed and snatched the wand from her fingers. Hermione could only watch in shock with her mouth hanging open.

"I can not believe you kept this," Fleur hissed out. Hermione's brows furrowed. It's not like she kept it as a souvenir.

Fleur held the wand in her hands, looking up at Hermione for an explanation, with her jaw tight in (misplaced) anger.

Hermione opened her mouth. "Uh…" What the hell was she supposed to say? That she needed it for a secret plan that was really secret and she couldn't say more because everything was fucking secret?

Fleur squinted her eyes and looked down at the wand in her hands in disgust. She scoffed heavily and held it in a way that someone would snap a stick.

Oh shit. Hermione's eyes widened in realization and she shouted. "No! You can't!"

Fleur snapped her eyes back to Hermione in disbelief as her grip tightened on the wand. "It's evil, Hermione," she ground out. "How could you— after what happened—"

Harry bounded in, looking confusedly at both girls. "What the hell?" he asked.

Fleur paid no attention to his interruption and instead kept her eyes locked onto Hermione. Hermione, however, looked at Harry in panic and directed him with pointed eyes to Bellatrix's wand.

Harry's eyes followed hers and his face morphed into alarm. "Woah! Fleur, we kind of need that…" he reached out but Fleur yanked her hands further away. She looked back and forth from Harry and Hermione in incredulity.

"How could you possibly…" Fleur started, her voice laced with revulsion. She closed her eyes tightly and shook her head.

The room was quiet for a moment before Fleur shoved the wand in Harry's hands with a huff and stormed out.

Harry looked down at the wand in shock, his mouth opening and closing a few times. "I'll— uh— keep this… I guess," he said while pocketing it.

Hermione could only nod.

Harry cleared his throat. "Bill's uh… having a coming out breakfast? He says that we all have horrible intuition and his marriage to Fleur is a sham."

She couldn't help but snort at that. "Yeah… he told me last night." she said offhandedly. Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Now help me find this god damned potion." Hermione huffed. She wasn't going down without a fight.

After breakfast (which was more of a Q&A hosted by Bill and Fleur) Harry, Ron, and herself, gathered out back to talk.

As they sat in the sand, Hermione turned to Ron. "Why didn't you say anything?" she asked. Ron never really kept things from them.

He shrugged and looked down at the sand. "You guys— I wasn't really sure how you guys would react. I hear how muggles are sometimes about this kind of stuff and I…" he trailed off.

Hermione couldn't help but feel a little offended. She bit back the retort that was on her tongue. She could understand a little of where he was coming from, they had only talked about this subject once when they were younger, and Harry and her weren't exactly marching Pride Parades.

"I'm sorry, Ron. We should've— Just know you can tell us anything. Right 'Mione?" Harry said.

Hermione smiled as Ron timidly looked at both of them. "Yeah."

Ron's face broke out into a grin and he tackled both Harry and Hermione into a hug in the sand.

"Oh god," Harry choked out. Hermione couldn't help the boisterous laughter coming from her mouth, or the carefree tears.

Fleur cornered her in the living room. Hermione wondered why Fleur only sometimes smelled good. Well, she was sure Fleur always smelled good. Just not the kind of 'good' she smelled before.

"I need to change your bandages."

Her neutral tone surprised Hermione, she was sure they had fought just an hour ago. She had expected at least a few more hours of a little aversion. Hermione wordlessly nodded and sat on a couch.

As Fleur gathered what looked like a medical bag together, she spoke with a hint of unsureness. "I'm sorry, about earlier. I did not mean to—" she paused for a moment. "I scared you."

That was one way to put it.

Hermione swallowed and shook her head as she held her arm out for Fleur to work on. "No, you were right," she admitted. "I wanted to snap it too." she said softly.

Fleur looked up at Hermione and nodded, her gaze returning to Hermione's arm as she pulled off the bandage. The red, angry, childish scrawl glared back up at her. Was today some sort of psychological test the universe gave her? If so, it was kind of fucked up.

Hermione looked at Fleur. Her jaw was tight and her nostrils were flared slightly. With the pads of her fingers, Fleur lightly stroked around the marred skin and Hermione let out a breathy exhale. She had the worst timing when gawking at Fleur.

Blinking a few times, Fleur tore her gaze away and focused on dabbing a bit of potion on a clean cloth. She turned back to Hermione. "This might sting," she said.

Hermione nodded, breathing in heavily. As the cloth made contact with her skin, she flinched and let out a barely there whimper. Yeah, that stung.

Fleur looked apologetic at least. "The blade was cursed. I couldn't heal its cuts with magic," she shook her head. "I asked my mother for anything that would help, and she gave me these." Fleur nodded towards what looked like an apothecary bag. "Some cultural ointments and potions." she explained.

"Cultural?" Hermione inquired.

"Veela."

Oh.

Hermione was quick to change the subject when her arm was being finished wrapped. "How is your mother?" she questioned. Memories of the other night came to surface and she wondered if she shouldn't have asked that.

"She's… a stubborn woman sometimes," Fleur supplied with a sigh. Hermione took it as a cue to to end that line of questioning. She remembers bits and pieces of Fleur's mother — A glance of her before the Third Task in her fourth year, and a pleasant introduction at the wedding.

"You must be Hermione!" the Delacour woman pulled her in a tight hug and quickly kissed both of her cheeks. She held Hermione out at arm's length, looking her up and down with a smile.

"Uh-um, yes. And you must be Madame Delacour." Hermione replied, a little flabbergasted at being slightly manhandled. How many glasses of champagne has this woman had?

She waved her hands around and shook her head. "Non! You must call me Apolline!" she insisted. Yeah, this woman needed to be cut off.

"Fleur looks beautiful tonight, wouldn't you agree?"

Hermione's eyes scanned the room and landed on Fleur. "Yeah," she said, a little entranced. She turned back to Apolline, who looked all too pleased at the moment.

"Well!" Apolline all but slapped her hands on Hermione's shoulders. "May we meet again Hermione!" she said cheerily, pulling her in again for a hug once more, and took off to talk to another guest.

Hermione could only stand there a little dazed at the encounter. What the hell was that? Ron came up behind her and gave a quick laugh.

"I'll have what she's having!" he joked.

Fleur moved her body closer to Hermione and gently reached for her neck; Hermione took a sharp breath as she neared. What was she doing?

As Fleur peeled the bandage off her neck, Hermione could feel her face heating up. Of course, what else would she be doing? She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the familiar sting on her neck as Fleur pressed the cloth on her skin.

"Fleur?"

"Hmm?"

"How come you smell like… really good sometimes?" Hermione asked. "Not that you don't smell good now, it's just that sometimes it's like, really good." she quickly added. She looked towards Fleur to gauge her reaction.

Fleur looked contemplative for a moment before answering. "Veela pheromones." she said plainly, covering Hermione's neck with a fresh bandage. Progress.

"How come Harry and Ron can't smell it?"

Their eyes locked for a moment and Fleur slowly opened her mouth to speak. She quickly looked down before continuing. "You seem to be… more susceptible."

Hermione could tell it was a bullshit answer.

Before she could interrogate her further, a loud bang sounded from the front door.

Fleur stood quickly and brandished her wand as Bill came from the kitchen. "Who is it?" Bill called. Hermione's heartbeat quickened. Irrational fear took over her — what if Death Eaters found them? Before she could bolt from the couch to god knows where, Fleur placed her hand on Hermione's shoulder.

"Stay here," she whispered, following closely behind Bill to the door. Hermione turned her body to face their direction whilst being shielded by the couch.

"It is I, Remus John Lupin!"

Hermione let out a breath she didn't know she was holding and the voices drowned out quickly as she calmed herself. She watched as Harry bounded in, looking alert as ever, while other occupants of the house filtered in.

Tonks had the baby.

Their celebration lasted a good hour or so, Bill had busted out some fancy wine he said he was saving for a victory. Hermione was glad his definition of victory was loose, otherwise she wasn't quite sure if he would ever open it.

After Lupin left, Hermione was sitting closely with Fleur in the kitchen with the other residents. The wine left everyone in a pleasant buzz while they shared anecdotes to keep the mood alive. Every now and again, Fleur's arm would brush ever so slightly against her own, and she would lean in impossibly closer.

"William!" Fleur admonished after hearing the end of Bill's story. Hermione wasn't really paying attention but she was sure she heard the words 'shaman' and 'Filet-O-Fish from McDonald's'.

After a few moments of laughter, the table settled back into comfortable conversation. Fleur tilted her head slightly towards Hermione and roamed her eyes over her face. She leaned in close and brought her hand to Hermione's face, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Hermione could only watch with eyes half closed as Fleur parted her lips.

Fleur abruptly pulled back, as if remembering something. "Sorry," she whispered.

Hermione furrowed her brows. Sorry for what? The gears in her head slowly started moving together.

Was Fleur about to kiss her?

No. That's not what was happening. Fleur was just being friendly. Hermione shook her head lightly and quickly turned her attention to the conversation at the table, stealing glances every few minutes at Fleur.

"Pathetic."

Hermione's eyes widened as she turned in the direction of the insult, finding Griphook in the doorway of the kitchen. Bill, Fleur, and her, were the only occupants at this time (everyone else retired to their rooms), and she was really sure Griphook was facing Fleur.

Fleur's jaw was pronounced and the kitchen grew quiet as Bill and Hermione stared in shock.

He turned and walked nonchalantly in the direction of Bill's room when Fleur stopped him.

"Excuse me?"

Griphook turned and squinted his eyes at her. "I think you know exactly what I mean, Veela."

Hermione frowned and was about to cut in when Griphook continued. "You can't even take what is yours." Hermione blinked a few times. Why the fuck was everyone so fucking vague in this house?

Bill stood quickly and unkindly shooed Griphook off to his room while Hermione looked back at Fleur — who was currently looking very upset at the kitchen counter.

"Fleur…" Hermione started. She wasn't really sure what to say. Being left in the dark left her at a disadvantage in the comfort department.

"I don't want your pity, Hermione." she snapped. Hermione recoiled in shock. What the hell?

"I wasn't offering any!" Hermione countered, huffing as she stood to walk out. Footsteps sounded behind her and she felt fingers grip her wrist. She spinned around to see Fleur looking apologetic.

"I'm sorry." she said sincerely. "It's just—" Fleur shook her head, biting her lip. Hermione waited patiently for an explanation. Fleur dropped Hermione's wrist and brought the heels of her hands to rub at her eyes. "Griphook is a dick," she explained bitterly, dropping her hands.

Hermione grabbed one of Fleur's wrists and pulled her in tightly for a hug. "Yeah, I know," she mumbled into her neck. Fleur's arms wrapped around her securely and Hermione couldn't help but feel the hot spike under her stomach when Fleur's lips moved against her skin when she spoke.

"Thank you, Hermione."

Chapter title inspired by the music of: Divinyls - I Touch Myself (but like, the BØRNS cover)