uhhhhhh college takes up all your time don't do it. i'm sorry this is like 4 years late. there's probably a million mistakes but it's that time in my life where i don't care, so.

Chapter 7: Might As Well Fall In

Things started to get weird. In all honesty, Hermione was surprised it didn't get weird sooner (being trapped in an isolated house for month usually did that to people).

Not only was Hermione sure she had some lame ass crush on Fleur, but the whole 'plotting in secret to rob a bank with Griphook' thing was really starting to get obvious. She was sure they looked like they were making a new E.T. movie. Except E.T. was being played by a four foot asshole. And the Reese's Pieces were replaced by an elusive magical sword.

Which wasn't even theirs to offer in the first place, but Harry didn't seem to give any fucks.

Bill was the first to notice — Griphook wasn't really subtle in his lurking. He gave Harry a ten minute lecture about working, and making deals, with Goblins. Which, according to Bill, was worse than having straight sex. (When Harry recounted this detail later to Hermione and Ron, Hermione choked on her spit and almost died on the study floor).

The others were not so inclined to get involved, but Fleur had made it clear she didn't approve of any kind of scheming under her roof. Hermione assumed Bill had told her what he knew.

"I would much prefer it if you three ate with us tonight."

Fleur was seemingly trying to delay and interrupt their meetings whenever possible.

The other night the trio had chosen to eat separately from the household, talking of dead ends and far off traces of answers for impossible questions instead. Harry was getting restless, they weren't accomplishing much here, and Hermione knew their time at Shell Cottage was limited.

Hermione, not in the mood to reply to Fleur, stared down and ran her fingers along the small grooves of the wooden table where she sat.

"Yeah, uh — sure." Harry replied, nodding at Fleur, a little taken aback at her forwardness.

Hermione looked up to see Fleur looking at her, as if she was waiting for her to say something. When it became clear Hermione wasn't going to say or do anything, Fleur turned and left for the door. The room grew quiet after she exited (no one really wanted to continue their earlier conversation) which left Hermione in her thoughts.

Hermione's past moments with Fleur took a turn. Their intelligent conversations too quickly evolved into Hermione stealing glimpses at Fleur's lips. And to make matters worse, the woman decided that playing with Hermione's hair was a totally great platonic thing to do. The list was too long to go on.

Once Hermione realized her small (large) attraction for Fleur, she avoided her like the plague. It must have been some some sort of misplaced desire or transference, and she would rather not project her delusions onto Fleur.

It made sense really, doctor-patient infatuation was common among situations like hers. Fleur had been her caregiver of sorts, and Hermione had grown a small dependency on her. Perfectly normal.

Not really.

Fleur had eventually noticed Hermione's evasion of her, and pulled back her friendly and caring attitude. Now, Hermione was met with cool casualness and nonchalance — which sucked, because she really liked Fleur, attraction or not. The immaturity of it all was really not good for her health.

So much for being there for Fleur.

"Are you okay with that?"

Hermione, broken out of her musings, looked at Harry in confusion. "What?" she asked.

Ron let out a huff of air and answered for Harry, although a little timidly. "We only have enough for one, and… it's gotta be her."

Hermione shook her head, how long did she go without paying attention?

"The Polyjuice — we've got a strand of her hair, and Griphook said the identification would work because we have her wand." Harry finished.

Oh.

Suddenly, the room felt a little smaller and her stomach felt a little knotted. Her father used to say fear was a good thing, that fear told them they were human. Hermione didn't feel human at all at the moment, more like a pile of thoughts and nightmares. Either way, fear itself wasn't going to win the war.

"I can do it."

In a moment alone, Hermione curiously looked through the titles on the bookshelf in her (Fleur's) room. Just like before, most were in French, making her efforts of reading something actually interesting unavailing; and she wasn't venturing to Bill's room either, in fear of having to be in the same room as Griphook.

The books she found in English were actually great examples of classical Muggle literature, but Hermione really wasn't in the mood to reread any tragic love tales or tragic adventures of foolish men. Was everything a tragedy?

Her fingers came across a worn leather spine with intricate golden engravings and she pulled it off the shelf with interest. The cover was littered with artistic impressions and the book's pages were gilded in gold along the edges. Fancy.

Deep in her mind she recognized the familiarity of this moment. Had she picked up a book similar to this in the Hogwarts library? Unlikely, seeing how she would have remembered its sheer appeal.

Upon opening it, Hermione immediately recognized the usage of the word 'Veela', swimming with other words in French.

Sucking in a breath, she wondered if she should even be poking around this bookshelf. Why did this feel like some sort of invasion of privacy? Hermione bit her lip. Curiosity killed the cat.

It's not like she would be able to understand any of it, right? Just harmless skimming. It was probably just a story book, nothing personal. With a surge of confidence, she flipped through the pages. But satisfaction brought it back.

Hand drawn pictures accompanied French words in what seemed to be a comprehensive text of Veela culture. Amazingly illustrated plants and other ingredients filled the section she was currently looking over. It was utterly beautiful, and Hermione desperately wished she could read French, because there was no way she was going to ask Fleur to translate.

Hermione stopped as she neared the back of the book. Was that…?

Her face reddened and she quickly snapped the book shut. With slightly trembling hands, she put the book back in its previous place.

Good to know that Veelas include their just about everything in their handy dandy handbook.

Hermione, now slightly uncomfortable and trying to block out the past five minutes, decided to head down to the kitchen where she was sure she would find the boys.

She didn't find the boys. Or the kitchen.

Instead, Bill found her.

Bill had dragged her off into the living area and Hermione wondered if he was always this spontaneous or if the past few weeks had been just circumstance.

"Would it kill you to talk to Fleur?"

"Would it kill you to mind your business?" Hermione asked, yanking her arm out of Bill's grasp.

"Yes!"

Hermione rolled her eyes and let out a sigh. "What are you even talking about?" she asked, not really wanting to divulge her problems to Bill. All of her conversations with him were like roller coasters. And she hated roller coasters. Mostly because some kid threw up on her on one but that was really beside the point.

Bill scoffed and ran a hand through his hair. "You two have been impossible the past two days, I swear Griphook and I have a better relationship than you two." he said, shaking his head.

Hermione made a slightly disgusted face, which Bill picked up on. "Not like that, Hermione! What the hell!"

Throwing her hands on her face, Hermione shook her head and groaned in exasperation. "You wouldn't understand." she mumbled through her hands.

"Try me."

Why the hell would she tell him any of this? It's not like Gay Judas over here would keep his mouth shut to Fleur.

She pulled her hands away from her face and looked up to Bill, who had an expression of genuine concern. Ugh. Hermione didn't think this was really the most appropriate time to have emotional journeys.

Flopping on the nearest couch face first into a cushion, Hermione mumbled something unintelligible.

"What was that?" Bill asked, setting himself on the arm of the couch.

Hermione's heart was beating so hard she was sure it was going to explode. She moved her head slightly to the side so her mouth was no longer covered. She had to tell someone, but telling Bill Weasley seemed to be the worst option. Or the best. She couldn't really think at the moment.

"I kind of — Uh," Hermione swallowed, not sure if she could admit it. "...like Fleur." God, she probably sounded like a prepubescent girl in primary school.

She nervously turned her body to look at Bill, who was nodding thoughtfully at her admission. "Like or like-like?" he asked seriously.

Hermione gave an offended scoff and fruitlessly tried to shove him from her position. "You know what I mean!" she admonished.

"I do, I do." Bill said, chuckling lightly, with his hands up in surrender. Collecting himself, he continued, "Now all you have to do is tell her!"

Hermione whipped around so fast she was sure she broke her neck. "Are you insane?"

"It's not that hard."

"No! I'm not doing that!"

Bill threw his head back in exasperation. "Alright. Well, do you want me to —"

"Absolutely not!" Hermione screeched. Was Bill trying to end her existence?

"So what, you're just gonna pretend like nothing— ?"

"I'm perfectly fine with that!" Hermione interrupted. She quickly got up from her place on the couch and made a beeline for her room.

She shouldn't have told him anything.

There was a knock on her door.

Bill.

Hermione groaned and slid off the bed. If he was her gay spirit guide, she would have to file a complaint to whoever assigned him to her. Hi, yes. I would like to return my gay spirit guide.

Opening the door, a witty retort to whatever he had to say was already on her tongue. "Do you ever stop—" she quickly stopped herself when she saw who was actually at her door.

That was not Bill. That was most definitely Fleur.

Without thinking, Hermione slammed the door shut.

Fucking fuck. Did she just slam the door in Fleur's face? Shit. Now in panic mode, Hermione reached for the door handle with shaking hands and pulled the door open.

"I'm so sorry! I don't know what I was thinking! I thought you were Bill and I didn't really want to talk to him at the moment and I just —"

Fleur silenced Hermione by placing a hand on her forearm. "It's okay." She assured with a hint of amusement.

Hermione grew paranoid in the span of a second. Did Bill tell her? It'd only been an hour. Is his resolve really that shit?

Gay Judas.

Noticing Hermione's unease, Fleur frowned, removing her hand from her arm and clearing her throat. "Dinner will be ready soon. Dean cooked steak." she said plainly, smoothing out the wrinkles in her clothing with her hands. They both sat still for a moment.

Hermione couldn't respond. The only thing on her mind was that 'Bill told her, Bill told her, Bill told her.' Her heart was beating out of her chest and her hands were trembling. To make matters worse, Fleur's Veela pheromones decided to show up to the party. Subconsciously, she licked her lips and let out a shaky breath.

"You…" Hermione started. How many do-overs does she get?

Fleur's eyes flicked up to hers and Hermione felt a little lightheaded. She could do this.

"I'm sorry." she started again. "I've been treating you badly these past couple of days."

Fleur said nothing, only looking curiously back at her with furrowed brows. Hermione wasn't sure if she should even continue.

Fuck it.

"Bill told you didn't he?" Hermione didn't wait for a response. "I'm sorry, it's childish really, just… a stupid crush, I don't mean to make you uncomfortable." she finished, hoping she didn't just breach some sort of friendship rule.

Fleur closed her eyes and shook her head in confusion. "What are you talking about? William hasn't said anything."

Oh, ok. Guess I'll die then.

There was no escape. Fleur was blocking the door, and Hermione wasn't sure if she would break something if she tried the window. Maybe she could self induce a coma if she thought hard enough about it.

"Hermione."

She brought her attention back to Fleur, who looked as serious as ever. Hermione probably looked like a deer caught in the headlights, and Fleur was probably about ready to run her over.

Fleur swallowed and slowly stepped closer to her. "You like me?" she asked quietly, her eyes searching Hermione's.

Okay so now they both looked like deer in the headlights. At least they were on the same page, or at least two different sides of the same page.

"Yes." Hermione admitted. She was sure she just lost a major internal organ. Coma time.

Letting out a shuddering breath, Fleur stepped even closer, resting her hand against Hermione's cheek. Hermione noticed it was slightly trembling, and she could smell Fleur's— whatever it was. Oh fuck.

"Can I kiss you?" Fleur asked through a whisper. Neither one of them dared to look away.

"Yes." Oh my god.

Hermione had to tilt her head up slightly to accommodate Fleur's height. They both stopped centimeters away from each other, breathing in short gasps. Impatiently, Hermione placed her hands on either side of Fleur's face, closed her eyes, and pulled Fleur down to her lips.

Oh.

Her lips were incredibly soft. Her face was incredibly soft. Everything about Fleur was incredibly soft.

Hermione could feel Fleur messily take in a shaky breath on top of her lips before she deepened the kiss, grasping at Hermione's sides with an almost frightening desperation.

Stumbling slightly backwards at Fleur's (now apparent) passion, Hermione made a noise of surprise when the back of her knees hit the edge of her (Fleur's) bed. Holy shit.

Both of them drew back, taking in short shuddering breaths with lidded eyes. Fleur leaned in again so quickly that Hermione didn't even have time to meet her halfway.

Letting her hands fall to Fleur's neck, Hermione dragged a thumb along her jawline, tracing out a path she hoped her lips would soon follow.

Fleur pulled away instead.

Chapter title inspired by the music of: James Blake - The Wilhelm Scream

cliffhanger? not really it was just starting to get too long.