"Why do you have a picture of me?"
Concealed behind an electronic door, several floors high in a five star hotel was the world's deadliest being. An infamous shadow that prowled the darkest streets, infiltrated the securest facilities and erased the unmentionables from existence without evidence.
Her name was Fleur Isabelle Delacour. And she was an assassin.
The woman certainly didn't look the part.
Fleur was tall with pale skin, high cheekbones, a slender nose, and full lips. Athletically built but not bulky; well proportioned and always immaculately dressed. Intelligent blue eyes and luscious long blonde hair completed her look and Fleur knew she could adorn any floor length gown or sharply cut suit, it wouldn't dissuade the beauty she radiated with every fibre.
The skillful master of deception enjoyed using such advantages her 'appearance' provided and at times it became amusing when she blended into a busy street crowd or subway station.
As for the nights' events, Fleur dressed in a loose fitted dark crimson two piece suit. A small suitcase lay open upon the bed. Nestled snugly in its socket was her favoured Ruger LCP; freshly cleaned, checked and fitted with a new silencer.
The slide was her most prized possession; a custom engraved piece with a rampant lion and two initials inside a bloomed flower, colour coordinated and all. Whenever she needed to discard her weapon, the slide was the sole piece she kept.
Tilted against the lid was a single polaroid photograph; a headshot of her target.
It became an inside joke; her 'calling card' to be accurately called by authorities and the only thing to prove the killer's existence. A clear photo of the deceased with a solid red cross and a lipstick kiss on the back.
Simple and playfully delightful.
Her latest target was a cop. Any well trained killer knew that law enforcers were a very risky bunch; not only for their self-awareness and weapons training but they rarely ventured out individually. Pairs perhaps but Fleur enjoyed her challenges every once in a while.
She certainly cornered herself with the selected night of operation.
Take out a highly esteemed target in the middle of an award ceremony, with at least three full precincts in attendance, the district attorney's office and mayor all in one place.
Sounded like a fun filled Friday night.
Downstairs, on the ground floor, behind the reception area and foyer was a massive hall hired out for the evening's event. Balloons, streamers, lights and dozens of smartly dressed tables were scattered about to make the place look lively. Hermione doubted any present company would care for such things like the colour scheme of a Police Medal Ceremony.
The young woman waited patiently for her two, very dear and close friends. Situated alongside her boss, Minerva McGonagall, Hermione welcomed every and all congratulations given as guests passed by. She was, after all, the youngest ADA in their city's history.
"Hermione!"
"Evening Ron, Harry." She gave them both brief hugs as they stepped a pace away from her boss's party. "It's lovely to see you both."
"And you." Harry grinned. He looked rather strapping in his uniform and cap. Both young men did but Ron wasn't to receive any recognition, further along in his enforcement career perhaps but not that night. "Congratulations on getting the spot, Miss 'Lioness' Granger."
"Stop that." She urged, restrained to not strike the man in irritation. Since her law school days, Hermione had obtained and somehow retained the ridiculous title; a homage to her ruthless, predatory-like behaviour inside the courtroom. She grew embarrassed the more it was used.
The woman was quick to change the subject to the night's guests of honour and Harry's name near the top of that list. He'd recently apprehended a high profile escapee and by chance at that. Hermione again congratulated her friend, all while aware of two familiar faces that approached from his back.
She may or may not have invited Harry's parents to the evening. Just to surprise him.
"Gods, how could've I gotten so lost?" Hermione muttered to herself. She'd had three glasses of champagne, two servings of finger food and maybe four hours of sleep but surely none of that would disorientate the brunette enough to lose track of a room.
Well, her boss's room.
She'd volunteered to retrieve the woman's small black contact book; it was an excuse to leave the party and all the leering eyes of law enforcement officers. Hermione forgot the number of times she told Sergeant McLaggon, politely, to leave her be.
Any further insistence from the man would result in harassment charges. She'd hold firm to that threat.
After another pass in the hallway, three doors down from the elevators, Hermione accidentally shoulder checked someone and nearly sent them both to the floor. Luckily, the victim was quick to drop their luggage and catch the brunette round the shoulders.
"Oh my god. I'm so sorry!" Hermione looked rightfully embarrassed with herself as she straightened up. Eyes lifted to meet the face of her saviour and she was beautiful. "I wasn't paying attention…"
A model-like visage, in a tailored red suit, black gloves that just covered the knuckles and…
"I made you drop your case!" Hermione quickly acted to collect the item and return it to its owner but long fingers didn't release from her upper arms. She and the stranger were still locked in a staring match of tense filled silence.
"It is…ah, do not…worry about…zat."
The woman's voice was deeper than expected and throaty; the foreign accent sent a tingle down Hermione's spine. Were the French sexier by nature or was that just her?
Maybe she could delay her return a bit, if it allowed Hermione to keep this beautiful woman's company.
"Still, I'm truly sorry. I was on my way to my boss's room. It's somewhere on this floor…I think." Hermione rambled off socially, posture eased from the initial impact and more than happy to remain in the taller woman's toned arms. "Go figure; I'd get lost the one time I get up here alone."
All the while, Fleur's mind was running chaotically rampant; inner monologue screaming at her in four different languages.
She'd timed her exit perfectly; knew the extra thirty seconds delay variant of the elevator and the event crowd numbers to strategically find her desired position, set up and be done before the next o'clock hour. Fleur didn't delay. She didn't fumble.
She didn't become a red faced, quivering mess of a person with a school girl crush! Especially not in the presence of one so amazing as Hermione Jean Granger!
"I normally don't run for my boss anymore, but she's getting older and I needed some kind of excuse to leave the party. It's really annoying to tell strange, older men, 'No, I don't wish to dance, thank you.' And don't get me started on Ron's horrible eating manners…"
It was fine. Fleur just needed to breathe. She had to keep her cool; process the situation carefully. Facts. Collect and analyse the facts and respond accordingly. That's how she was trained.
A swift observation proved they were alone in the hallway; perfect. No other witnesses, no interruptions. Fleur then noted how their bodies were still closely moulded together and the shorter woman had busied herself with 'fixing' Fleur's labels. Physical contact…not good!
Her face heated up once more.
"You're dressed so handsomely tonight. Are you here to attend the ceremony too? I don't recall seeing you before. Enforcement or Legal team?" Hermione smiled warmly. She certainly didn't know everyone in every division, but she'd have remembered a face like the blonde's. Her cool silent aura was doing something to Hermione's curious mind.
"Ah…I ah…work more wiz ze…officers…zan avocats." Fleur managed to stumble through her words and with enough courage, took a step back. A blush firmly across her cheeks.
God, it was too much!
How could she concentrate when THE Hermione Granger was before her. The epitome of beauty, power and justice. The mightest of minds and hearts!
Fleur had followed the brunette's progress since law school; where she achieved the highest score on her bar exam, got an intern then position within 'Gryffindor House of Law' company and quickly into her current standing. An ADA.
Fleur may have been a killer, but even she had her hero. Plus, the shorter woman was so cute!
"You're French, oui?" Hermione asked softly, to which the blonde had to constrict every muscle in her body and not react to the words physically. It was too much! So much cuteness! "How long have you been here? If I may ask?"
"I…travel…a lot. Ah…so not long…" It was slow, but Fleur eventually grounded herself and with a firm intention, she could get through this. Ease into a polite exit, complete her mission and someday return to face Hermione again.
She'd managed to speak to her once! Fleur knew, with further practice and a little more self-confidence, she could do even better next time!
"Oh, that's lucky. I wish to travel someday too. Maybe see the Mediterranean Sea, enjoy the Aurora Borealis or even experience the outback."
Score! Fleur would store those vivid details for a later date. Perhaps a 'prize' trip could make its way to the brunette's mailbox…a postcard perhaps?
"I am sure you will." With precise action, the blonde woman smiled, retrieved her suitcase and straightened once more. Their height difference was noticeable but endearing and Fleur loved the way the light sparkled in Hermione's dark eyes.
While under the bravado of charm and other worldly self control, Fleur slid a hand into the inner pocket of her jacket to produce a card. "Per'aps, when zat day comes…call me."
Hermione reached up to pluck the business card, held between two slim fingers and flipped it a few times.
"Fleur Delacour. Analyste d'affaires." Eyes returned to process Fleur's tall frame. "I would ask what types of business but…"
"All kinds ma cherie." Fleur's brow twitched, smile firmly in place as she hoped to keep whatever cool was left to perceive. "But sadly, I must depart for now."
"Oh of course! I'm so sorry I kept you."
With a final nod, the blonde brushed past Hermione's shoulder, intentionally as a final goodbye before she headed for the elevator doors. Fleur was unaware however, that a polaroid picture loosened from the inner lining and fell to the floor.
Finally alone and proud of her efforts in the face of adversity, Fleur internally congratulated herself. Now for the mission and the night could end on the highest of notes.
"Oh Fleur! You dropped something." Head turned in slow motion as Hermione held up the thick paper in gesture. It was the one normally housed close to her heart. Fleur froze.
"This is…me?"
Situated in the square picture, with a low cut floral shirt, loose wavy hair and brilliant smile adorned her face in a moment of laughter was a snapshot of Hermione. The date marked at the bottom was over four years prior and next to it was the clear lip print of a kiss mark.
"Merde!"
In horror, Fleur dropped her case for a second time and as fortune foretold, the seams of reality began to unwind.
The clasp released, lid pressure opened and her prized Ruger, engraved in all its colour stained glory was on display for the whole world. The target photo fell from the case before them and the atmosphere grew insanely tense.
While the newly appointed ADA tried to process the visual markers staring blatantly before her, Fleur's red faced, crouched, shaking body wanted to disappear. With the exposure and clear embarrassment, there was no way Fleur could ask her crush to dinner now.
Midmoon Kitsune out!