Free Day - "Song of the Heart."
Christmas was a joyful time of year; like many cultures, Veela held their own form of celebration and enjoyment for the winter season. While they found the reformed holiday vastly entertaining in the muggle world, Fleur never expected to be cooped up in a theatre box alongside her family on the eve night for a Royal Performance night.
A musical show was put on in London to celebrate the holiday and half an hour in, a third generation, blonde haired Veela was bored. Really bored.
Twenty two and old enough to know better, Fleur wished she hadn't taken the time off work to attend the event. Apolline at her side, sister on the other and grandparents seated behind them would scold her otherwise. Why the lot enjoyed the muggle world so much was a mystery to her, but a holiday was a holiday.
The performance had its usual grandeur. Lights, music, song and dance. Audience children singing along off key, parents likely pre-drinking before the evening meal; what wasn't to enjoy?
Set to excuse herself, the young woman was stunted in her action by the introduction to the next performer. An acclaimed upstart singer that made her debut not a month earlier and apparently, the crowd knew the name very well. Fleur's eyes widened as the cheer rose notably higher the seconds it took the woman to step into the spotlight.
She was tall, with an updo of dark hair and wore a slimming strapless dress. Adorned her face was a sparkle themed mask and shockingly enough, the Delacour clan noticed a series of illusion charms all over it. Whatever her identity, the mysterious witch clearly wanted it kept secret.
"Well well, zis is interesting."
Her mother's tone caught Fleur's ear; it was rare for the rather reserved woman to make such judgemental opinions. She looked back towards the stage and its lone occupant.
The music played and she began to sing.
It was magic reimagined. Her voice was breath-taking, soulful and inspiring all at once. She need not move a muscle as the song spilled forth from her body so easily it would render the most powerful creature vulnerably stunned in her wake.
And it did. Every Veela present to watch the performance was wide-eyed and bound. But none more so than Fleur.
Her blood boiled; heart bounded with a force ready to rupture the muscular organ. Pupils dilated till it shrouded her eyes in darkness as sweat began to pour from her brow at the effort it took to remain seated.
Fleur's Veela heritage called out for the soul so marked as its equal.
By the time the young woman managed to verbally tell her mother and grandmother of the fantastic news, the singer was gone.
Several days after the Christmas celebrations and a few days left of the break, over 500 miles away, Hermione wandered aimlessly around the Black Lake. She was lost in thought and pondered where her life was heading with so few constants left to her.
Her parents' memories could not be restored; they would remain in Australia and Hermione wouldn't be but a random stranger in a crowd to them.
It saddened her but the witch didn't regret her decision to keep them safe.
Harry and Ron hadn't returned to Hogwarts for their final year and so the brunette was without her best friends. They'd been accepted in an early Auror training regime and by their numerous letters, loving it. Hermione felt pleased for them, but their absence was noticeable.
The Gryffindor student groaned again at the sensation of another pounding headache. They'd become frequent since her return from London and the performance.
Hermione never thought of herself much as a singer. She didn't enjoy the publicity or self-arrogance that came with many performers; the centre of attention never fell onto her.
It came with a famous boy wonder growing up.
Still, the agent she'd found was accustomed to younger performers and with her mandatory attendance in a magical boarding school most of the year, Hermione only performed for charity. What little funds she procured went into her school expenses and miniscule savings. She needed to prepare for her future. Whatever it would be.
That night, the brunette was drawn from sleep by another breathy melody carried in the wind. It was the fourth time she'd heard something and every morning it left a debilitating headache in its wake.
"There is no mystery, it is finally clear to me. You're the home I've searched for, so long…"
She'd wished numerous times for it to stop but it never happened. The silvery words crawled inside her skin, through her nerves until her body felt hot and restless.
"Over and over, I'm filled with emotion. Your love, it rushes through my veins. And I'm filled with the sweetest devotion. As I, I look into your perfect…"
"ENOUGH!" She yelled desperately. "I can't take it anymore…" Turnabout, Hermione stormed back to her room, head down as a single tear stained her cheek.
"It is you I have loved, all along."
Fleur stood out on the western balcony; a star filled night above her but it felt as empty as her heart. It had been over two weeks of nightly calls and yet, she hadn't found any trace of her mate. The mysterious singer was somewhere out in the world…just not with Fleur. Where she should be.
"No news, ma petite?" The blonde turned slightly to acknowledge her grandmother but confirmed what they both already knew. "You will find 'er."
"I know. But it 'urts…"
"Maybe it is time for you to listen." The elder woman joined Fleur at the railing, arms folded the shawl around her shoulders further. How the younger ones liked the cold was insane and unhealthy. "She called to you ze first time ma belle. And you 'ave tried to return it but ze song can't be 'eard if 'er 'eart isn't open."
The younger Veela held desperately to the hand offered to her. Something to ground her.
"Zank you, grandmo'zer. But I want to stay 'ere a little bit longer." As she spoke, Fleur's ear caught something. Distant, weak but there.
"I'm so tired of being here, suppressed by all my childish fears. And if you have to leave, I wish that you would just leave…"
"It's 'er." Fleur whispered in awe, eyes focused northward. Perhaps her soulmate was still situated in England somewhere. She'd searched immensely but…
"Listen petite. Don't zink." Again, her grandmother grounded her body as she tried to hear the angelic voice calling for her.
"These wounds won't seem to heal, this pain is just too real. There's just so much that time cannot erase…"
"She's 'urting, grandmo'zer. 'Er voice, it's…"
"Shhh. I know chaton. You 'ave found 'er now. Go be wiz 'er."
Hermione was once again at the lakeside, alone and barely held together. She felt like everything was falling apart; her foundation crumbled beneath her and sympathies from her fellow Gryffindors only further tore at her open flesh.
"Miss Granger, this isn't your usual standard of work. I expected more from a seventh year; especially you." Professor McGonagall sat at her desk with a stern look. While the two had grown closer, especially in the reconstruction of Hogwarts, the teacher was deeply concerned for the young witch's mentality and overall health.
She hoped a direct conversation would lead Hermione to opening further with her but it seemed to only close the young witch off further.
"I'll resubmit the essay by Monday. I apologise, Professor." The brunette kept her voice low, head down and snatched up the parchment before McGonagal could say another word. She left just as quickly.
It hurt. Everything hurt so much.
Hermione wished she could fall into familiar arms, feel soothing touches and know it would be alright. Things would pass and life would be normal again…her mother always knew what to say. What to do.
"When you cried…I'd wipe away all of your…" she choked up. The tears fell relentlessly, no matter how much Hermione wiped them away. Why couldn't things go her way anymore?
She physically began to shake; the coil of emotions, repressed memories and illogical sense of abandonment tightly violently around her insides till it burst.
Hands formed fists and she punched the nearest tree viciously. Again and again.
"I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone, but though you're still with me. I've been alone all along!"
As her voice echoed over the water's surface, Hermione's energy went with it, and she felt her legs begin to give out. Before she collapsed, a feminine body moulded against her back and held her tightly.
"I found you." Fleur was breathless, in an effort to race across grounds to find her beloved. She feared she was too late. "I'm 'ere ma cherie. Whatever you need. I'm not going anywhere."
Hermione cried harder.
The MC's voice faded and the crowd stilled into silence. Light faded as Hermione gathered the last of her strength to walk calmly to centre stage. She could see little; the weight of hundreds of eyes upon her were heavy, the air thick with suspense and Hermione raised her mic slowly.
The violinist began to play.
"When I am down and, oh my soul, so weary. When troubles come and my heart burdened be,
Then, I am still and wait here in the silence, until you come and sit awhile with me."
The moment was still, fragile and so easily broken; shatter completely. Hermione couldn't do it. She didn't have the strength yet. Not alone.
"You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains. You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas.
I am strong, when I am on your shoulders. You raise me up to more than I can be."
Fleur stepped out of the darkened space, a mask and evening dress to match her just as glamorous partner. The event wasn't nearly as big nor extravagant, but she wanted to be there. Her family were among the participants that night, friends and co-workers too but Fleur was there for Hermione.
Her voice was an octave or two higher than the brunette's, accompanied by her Veelan blood and love for singing, the pair fused well in lyrical magic. Their eyes met as she joined Hermione centre stage, free hands linking together.
It was small steps, but they were made together.
"You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains. You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas.
I am strong, when I am on your shoulders. You raise me up to more than I can be."
Midmoon Kitsune out!