Author note: This little oneshot was inspired by a silly tumblr gifset I played with last month. I thought it would be hilarious if Fleur just randomly talked about her sex life with Hermione to a reporter, and the fic pretty much wrote itself. To see the full gifset and a new related part two, you'll have to go find my tumblr since it's hard to post links here. I'm lipzlipzlipz
humor, chaotic wives, Fleur is living her best life and wants everyone to know, romance, rated M for the sex talk, is this crack? it's probably crack
Day 4: Free Day
Hermione Granger, Minister for Magic, arrives at the Ministry Friday morning ready for a productive end to the work week. As she crosses the Atrium, she begins to notice stares and whispers.
Curious.
Spotting Harry as he steps into a lift, likely heading to the Auror Office, she raises her hand to call out a greeting but when he sees her, he blushes and quickly pushes the button to close the lift doors.
She would take it as a slight but then she's distracted by a couple of younger witches who openly ogle her and sigh as she passes to the next available elevator.
Which is very much out of the ordinary but also very… flattering.
So, with an extra pep in her step, she takes the lift to Level One where her office is located. Staff are oddly stiff as she greets them on her way to her office down the hall, but she doesn't think to question it. Not until she opens the mahogany door to the Minister's Offices and sees the expression on her normally unflappable secretary's face.
"Good morning, Ethel," Hermione says, trying to make it sound cheerful even though she's starting to connect the morning's encounters, and wonders what catastrophe has happened that requires her immediate attention.
"Good morning, Minister Granger," Ethel says shakily, her eyes not quite meeting Hermione's. "Your mail is on your desk and erm, Mrs. Potter is here."
"Ginny?" Hermione mutters, looking up at the inner door to her office. "All right, then. Thanks, Ethel."
Opening the door, she finds Ginny sitting on a chair in front of her desk.
"Ginny, I'm surprised to see you this morning," Hermione says. She closes the door, removes her coat, and hangs it on the nearby coat rack. "Don't we have dinner plans tonight?"
"Do we?" Ginny asks, turning her head, a shit-eating grin on her face. "I'm not so sure anymore."
"Why? Did something happen?"
"No, not really. I just wanted to see your face– I mean, see you. Bright and early."
Hermione rounds her desk, frowning as she sets down her bag and pulls out her chair to sit.
"Okay," she says slowly, glancing at the stack of mail Ethel mentioned. The corner of the new Witch Weekly peeks out from underneath all of the envelopes, Daily Prophet, and other muggle news publications she subscribes to.
Right, she thinks. That profile they did. My interview was fine… Fleur and the others said their interviews went well, too…
Raising her eyes to Ginny, she finally sees the copy of the magazine in her friend's hands.
"Good article, I hope? Or are you here to console me?"
Ginny smirks. "Look for yourself."
Pulling the magazine out from under the stack, the first thing she sees is the very nice photograph of herself on the cover. She's smiling but then a blink-and-you-miss-it wink happens.
Hermione sighs. A small photo edit, not something to get worked up over.
Her eyes move to the headline and her jaw drops.
HERMIONE JEAN GRANGER – MINISTER FOR MAGIC, BRILLIANT WITCH, AND SEX GODDESS
She looks up at Ginny in horror, and the woman bursts into laughter.
"Open it, open it!" urges the younger witch in between gasps for air.
With trembling fingers, she flips through the magazine until she gets to the featured article.
*::::*
One week earlier
Fleur reins in her thrall as she walks into a closed shop in Diagon Alley at two in the afternoon. She would much rather be at work, there's a temperamental vault she's working on at the bank, but this Witch Weekly profile is important and she will do whatever she can to support Hermione in her new position as Minister.
She looks around, and wonders again why the journalists wanted to conduct their interview at a clothing shop.
"Mrs. Delacour, thank you for coming. I'm Mandy Brocklehurst."
A woman around her age approaches Fleur with her hand outstretched. Fleur gives it a firm shake and introductions are made with the other journalist, a young woman named Paula Hayden who looks like she recently graduated Hogwarts, and the photographer, a grizzled short-haired older witch named Nat who looks like she's seen it all.
It's all very pleasant until they bring her around to a corner of the shop where they've set up chairs and the camera, and she sees a garment rack with several glamorous witch's robes that look to be in her size. At Fleur's pause, Miss Hayden explains her idea that pictures of her in those garments would help drum up more interest in the article.
The curse-breaker directs a withering stare at the witch, but reminds herself the interview is for Hermione, so she sits and says noncommittally, "If there's time after the interview."
"Mrs. Delacour," starts Brocklehurst, perhaps recognizing Fleur has put up her guard and that she needs to smooth things over, "Miss Hayden will be the one asking the questions although I might interject with a follow-up here and there. We'll both be taking notes, and I will also have this quill transcribe the interview on this parchment here. Not to worry, this one writes exactly what is said, nothing more or less."
Fleur eyes the quill, and slowly nods to the reporters and the photographer. Taking a deep breath, she says, "You may begin Miss Hayden."
Based on what Harry, Ginny, and Ron said about their interviews, she expects questions about the war, her wife's brilliance, and perhaps a bit about their relationship and how they got together. That's how it goes in the beginning. She enjoys lavishing praise on her wife, on all of Hermione's accomplishments, and on all of the things that made the French witch fall in love with her. But from the increasing disinterest on Hayden's face, the way the personal questions are framed, and the fact that Brocklehurst put a rookie in to conduct the interview in the first place, Fleur gets the impression that they don't take her praises seriously.
And it's not the first time Fleur has faced those who doubt her love for Hermione. She's been overhearing gossip like that for years.
The gall of these people. How dare they question how amazing her wife is? How dare anyone think Hermione must've lucked out somehow and doesn't really deserve her? If anyone's the lucky one, it is Fleur. That someone as kind and intelligent and brave and breathtaking as Hermione Granger could love and marry her is a gift Fleur will cherish every day for the rest of her life.
Then Hayden asks the most boring interview question she's ever heard.
"Can you tell us something you think the public would find interesting?"
It only takes her a second before she answers, and in that second, she knows full well what she's about to do and what the ensuing consequences will be. In fact, she looks forward to it. Why shouldn't she brag? Hermione's skills and stamina as a lover are the best she's ever had, and she's not ashamed who knows it. It's time for the public to envy Fleur for a change.
Plus, her wife can be quite responsive when properly provoked, so there's that extra consequence to look forward to as well.
*::::*
Present
Hermione frantically skims the first couple of pages, which include all of the expected things. Her background, a rundown of her accomplishments at Hogwarts, her role in the war, and her contributions to the Ministry over the years. Interspersed throughout are transcriptions from the interviews with her close friends and colleagues.
On the third page, the article takes a turn. That's the one which contains Fleur's interview. She reads a couple of paragraphs describing her wife's background in addition to statements about Hermione that are typical praise coming from a politician's spouse. Nothing untoward there. But what catches her eye is the flashing disclaimer with a sizeable amount of blank space on the page after it. The disclaimer says 'Mature Readers Only'. After she reads those words, she senses a slight brush of magic from the magazine, no doubt assessing her age. A second later, the rest of the article appears.
It's mainly in transcript form along with associated magical photographs of her wife speaking, similar to the extracts from the interviews with Harry and the others on the previous pages.
Her eyes go to the first picture and related quote.
Hayden: Can you tell us something you think the public would find interesting?
Delacour: Sex with her is really wild.
"No," Hermione says weakly, scanning the rest, her stomach roiling with every quote and photograph.
"Yes," giggles Ginny.
"Noooo."
It's not true. Fleur didn't say these things. These so-called journalists are making it all up. It wouldn't be the first time. Except Mandy Brocklehurst was in her year at Hogwarts. She's read her articles. She thought the woman was a professional.
A voice in the back of her head, however, reminds her that her wife would most assuredly say these things.
The profile ends with Brocklehurst and Paula Hayden tying everything up in a complimentary bow, saying the British magical community should sleep better at night knowing such a take-charge witch was at the helm.
Which… great… but Fleur… how could she…?
Ginny just keeps laughing as she flips through her copy of the magazine. She's having way too much fun with this.
"Your wife is my favorite person right now. I love my husband, I love my children, but Fleur Isabelle Delacour is my hero. I think the one about the strap is my fav–"
"Ethel!" shouts Hermione, ignoring Ginny.
Her office door opens and Ethel pokes her head in.
"Yes, Minister Granger?"
"I won't be staying. Clear my day, will you please?"
"Already done. By the way, a message just arrived. Mrs. Delacour says she'll be home around lunchtime."
Hermione nods a thank you and her secretary leaves and closes the door. She shoves the magazine in her bag and goes to grab her coat. Thankfully her office is one of the few allowed apparition points in the Ministry.
"Wait, where are you going?" Ginny asks, standing up.
"Home. I've got to get ready to strangle my wife."
Hermione is about to apparate on the spot when Ginny jumps into her personal space and gives her a little shove.
"What was that for?" asks Hermione.
"You can't go home that way, you big dummy."
"I can't show my face out there. You didn't see all the whispers, how everyone was looking at me."
"And how were they looking? Not from the ones that wouldn't like you no matter what, I'm talking about the others. The ones who are eyeing you like you could step on them and they would scream for more."
"What?!" exclaims Hermione, scandalized.
"I'm telling you, Fleur did you a favor and you need to capitalize on it. You're going to walk out of here and put up with a bit of lustful gawking the way your wife does wherever she goes."
"Gin, I don't know…" Remembering those two young witches outside the lifts, Hermione is uneasy about what else she could face out there.
"Come on, we're going to the pub."
"It's barely eight in the morning," Hermione protests.
"Who cares? It's happy hour somewhere. Besides, it's not about the drinking. We'll have nothing but pumpkin juice for all I care. Or we can go to a restaurant. Whatever. Just as long as it's in public. The point is you need to go out there and show that you, Hermione Jean Granger, are a badass boss bitch with a hot wife who's a slave to your big di–"
"Ginny!" gasps Hermione, her face turning red.
Her friend snorts, grabs Hermione's arm, and drags her out of the office.
*::::*
One week earlier
"Sex with her is really wild."
As Fleur utters those words, she observes the reactions of the other three women.
Nat, the photographer, snorts but otherwise stays focused with her camera.
Brocklehurst gasps and her eyes widen.
And poor Paula Hayden begins to choke on her own spit.
"Erm…" Hayden manages to get out as she looks down at her notes.
"She just jumps my ass whenever she wants," Fleur adds nonchalantly, as if she were commenting on the weather.
Hayden looks to Brocklehurst now, needing her help, but the woman is too stunned to speak so the younger witch says, "That might be a little–"
"But I love it, we fuck all the time."
Fleur can't help her almost gleeful pride as she interrupts Hayden. She omits the part that she's just as guilty of pouncing on Hermione whenever the need arises, which is admittedly frequent, but she thinks they get the general idea regardless.
Never in all of Mandy Brocklehurst's years working as a reporter has she witnessed a subject so unabashed, so willing to reveal such personal and private aspects of their life, and it takes a little while for her to gather her wits before she realizes that Nat has stepped back with her camera, though she's still taking pictures, and Paula is trying to end the interview.
"Well, I think we're strapped for time–"
Mandy leans forward, intending to interrupt, but Fleur beats her to it.
"Oh!" Fleur exclaims, turning to Mandy for the rest of her answer. "Her strap game. Hermione does this thing where she swirls it first then puts it in–"
"Thank you, Mrs. Delacour," rushes Hayden, "but we really should stop–"
"No!" cuts in Brocklehurst. The older reporter turns to her younger subordinate and stares her down.
Fleur almost feels sorry for the young witch. The girl looks embarrassed but also relieved that her supervisor seems to be taking over.
"Erm, please do go on, Mrs. Delacour," encourages Brocklehurst.
"Well…" Fleur thinks, looking at all three as she speaks. "I've already mentioned my wife's beauty but you really have no idea how hot she is under those robes. I mean her tits are perfect. And she really knows how to keep me begging."
Fleur turns back to Brocklehurst and says, "Off the record?"
Mandy hastily grabs the quill, whispering the charm to turn it off.
"No one will repeat what we hear, Mrs. Delacour, I assure you."
Fleur smiles. She knows they won't or she will bring the full power of the Delacour Veela family to bear on Mandy Brocklehurst and the puny magazine she works for, and sue them all for every knut they're worth.
"Do you know how work gets so stressful, you just need a good massage and a glass of wine? Well, I like those things too but on particularly aggravating days, Hermione knows exactly what I need. She'll bend me over my desk, lift up my skirt and drive into me like her fingers are powerful pistons until every thought and stress are fucked out of my mind. Thank goodness for cleaning spells and silencing charms, non?"
Hayden nearly faints.
Nat chuckles and huffs, "Get it girl."
Fleur glances at the photographer and winks at her.
"You mean your home office desk… right?" asks Brocklehurst, almost out of breath, rethinking her sexual preferences.
The Veela smirks knowingly, remembering the various desks she and Hermione have played on, and says without a hint of truth in her words, "Oui, of course. My home office desk."
Seeing that Brocklehurst doesn't exactly know where to take it from there, Fleur nods at the quill in the woman's hand, which wakes up the veteran reporter enough to re-engage the charm.
Brocklehurst clears her throat and says hoarsely, "Mrs. Delacour, I'm sure our readers will appreciate my getting clarity on this… so are you saying you're not the one who…"
"Tops her?" Fleur supplies, easily picking up on what the woman is trying and failing to ask. She shakes her head. "Non."
No one else has anything to add, and Fleur takes it as her cue to leave. She stands up.
"This was a lovely chat but I have a pesky vault to get back to. I trust you will know how to use this interview to benefit my Hermione. People can sleep better at night knowing such a take-charge witch is at the helm, oui? I know I do… when she lets me sleep, that is."
Fleur bites the inside of her cheek at the shocked faces of the two reporters, gives a high-five to Nat, and walks out of the shop, barely containing her laughter.
*::::*
Present
Hermione arrives at home just after noon.
Ginny managed to keep her at the pub for a couple of hours, forcing an embarrassed Harry to come along to act as Hermione's security, but there was only so much staring, ogling, and whispering she could tolerate before it became too much. Being dragged through Diagon Alley didn't help either, so they spent the last hour at Ginny and Harry's house before Hermione said she was ready to go home.
At least she wasn't the laughing stock she feared she would be; Ginny turned out to be right about what the article would do for her reputation. People had already been deferential given her war hero status, but now they saw her in a more personable light. Which could be a good thing. Time will tell. And although being thought of as a sex goddess wasn't exactly what she was aiming for with that profile, it at least gave her a new appreciation for what her wife has to live with on a daily basis.
But did Fleur have to be that revealing?
The tired witch slips off her suit jacket and her heels, collapsing onto the sofa in her living room.
That's when Fleur walks in through the doorway from the dining room. She's wearing black leggings and an oversized white t-shirt, and leans her shoulder against the doorjamb.
"Welcome home, mon amour. Are you hungry? Shall I make you a sandwich? Am I sleeping in the guest room tonight?" Fleur asks cheekily, no trace of apology on her face.
Hermione snorts and rolls her eyes, patting her lap. Fleur giggles as she walks over, happily straddling her and pressing a soft kiss against her lips.
"You sent Ginny to me this morning, didn't you?" asks Hermione.
Ginny didn't say anything but it wasn't hard for the witch to figure it out. Only Fleur and some of her staff know she likes to read the day's news and various publications as soon as she gets to the office in the morning.
Fleur replies with a soft 'oui' and adjusts so that she sits comfortably on Hermione's thighs.
The brunette hums as Fleur nibbles on her lips. She says, "Smart move. And they call me a brilliant witch."
"I have my moments. So how angry were you?"
"Not that much. More shocked than anything," murmurs Hermione, pulling away and sighing. "In front of our friends is one thing but to Witch Weekly?"
"And why shouldn't they know how wonderful you are?"
"But–"
"Going into our sex life was a bit far, I'll admit, but I'm tired of people not believing how much I adore you. And now they know."
"But you made it sound like I… like that's the only way we…"
Fleur chuckles and starts unbuttoning Hermione's blouse. "So I fibbed and didn't tell them all the dynamics we like to play together. But let them think it's one way. I like that I'm the only one who knows how you sound after I've kept you on edge for hours. I like that I'm the only one who knows how you whimper face down in the mattress, begging for my touch."
Hermione melts as Fleur speaks and finishes unbuttoning her blouse. When she tries to untuck the blouse from her pants, Hermione grabs her hands.
The blonde arches an eyebrow and asks, "Or is Mrs. Granger in a more punishing mood at the moment?"
"That depends," Hermione answers, letting go of Fleur's hands and sliding her own up her wife's thighs. "Is Mrs. Delacour in a penitent mood?"
Liking where this is going, the French witch nods. "I can be. The box under the bed?"
"No, the blue one in the closet."
A jolting thrill zips up Fleur's spine. She anticipated her wife would want to play after reading the article but this was better than she hoped.
The blonde gracefully removes herself from Hermione's lap and heads to the stairs before turning around, another tease ready on her lips.
"Not another word, Fleur!" Hermione barks, a small smile cracking through, breaking character. "Perhaps I need to find something to gag that mouth of yours for a change."
Fleur laughs along with her wife, happy to see her wife's humor about the interview, and even happier knowing their desire for each other is as strong as it's ever been.
And as far as a gag goes, she knows just the thing.
A/N: Thanks for reading!