A/N: Hi all, sorry for the hiatus. Life has been pretty intense lately!
Before getting to the chapter, I think I need to clear something up.
I've been getting a lot of comments getting mad about the use of the phrase "daddy energy" - people saying that this is going to be an in depth daddy kink situation? First of all, there's absolutely nothing wrong with that. Secondly, I think these readers have their wires crossed. "Daddy energy" is a phrase super commonly used amongst queers. It's usually mentioned quite jokingly/appreciatively. It refers to someone who is attractive and has an authoritative/bossy/confident vibe about them. It does NOT automatically mean a full on daddy kink with like "daddy" / "little one" etc etc. It is not meant as anything serious in the fic.
Fleur wasn't entirely sure what had gripped Hermione with such urgency. The brunette, from the moment they had woken, had been an agitated ball of energy. She couldn't sit still, jiggling a leg, tapping her ink-stained fingers, pacing the small cottage.
By the time Fleur had showered, dressed, and brushed her teeth, she was feeling thoroughly rushed.
"Hermione, I haven't even had breakfast," Fleur grumbled, "You could stop acting like I've taken a week to get ready this morning."
Hermione, clearly unaware that she had been making Fleur feel rushed, stalled in her restless pacing. She looked at Fleur, sheepish.
"Erm, sorry," Hermione said, her hands twiddling at the buttons of her white linen shirt nervously.
Fleur frowned.
"Hermione, what's going on?" Fleur asked, cocking her head to one side, "Why do we need to go back to Grimmauld Place so early? Why is it such a rush?"
Hermione sighed, resuming her pacing.
"It will be easier to discuss at the same time with everyone instead of having to repeat myself… Besides, I'm not even sure… It wouldn't make sense…" Hermione babbled, "Look, I just need to run it past Harry—"
They were interrupted by a sharp knock at the door.
Fleur went to answer the door as Hermione looked like she may explode from the further delay to the morning's plan.
Fleur regretted opening the door almost instantly.
Standing on the small doorstep was Minerva McGonagall, drawn to her full height, lips pursed. Every wrinkle on her face was contorted in a way that spelled disapproval.
Fleur stepped back, out of politeness or surprise, she wasn't sure.
McGonagall entered the small cottage swiftly, greeting them both with stiff formality. Fleur could tell from the first "Ms Granger" that McGonagall had slipped seamlessly back into her old dynamic a of stern Headmistress talking to a student.
Glancing over at her wife, Fleur saw that Hermione didn't miss a beat. She slipped a ring on her finger before folding her arms, so quickly Fleur barely had time to notice it was the ring that Narcissa Malfoy had left at their table the previous day.
"To what do we owe the pleasure, Minerva?" Hermione greeted guardedly.
Fleur was quietly proud of how much Hermione was coming in to her own already. In Hermione's first post-Hogwarts interactions with the formidable Scottish witch, Hermione had clearly struggled not to treat McGonagall as the teacher that had ushered her around the cold castle as a small First Year.
Now, Hermione stared down McGonagall as an equal.
Feeling very much like she was a fly on the wall, Fleur shut the front door and skirted around the edges of the room, enjoying the cool breeze the open windows provided.
"We haven't seen you in some time," McGonagall said tersely, skewering straight to the point like an iron dagger into soft flesh, "I had expected to see you following your assault of Bill Weasley. I had expected you would explain your actions, perhaps apologise? At the very least, I expected you to stay in touch with The Order as you complete your assignment."
Hermione scoffed at the mention of Bill. She was no longer the student cowed by school hierarchy and rules. She was emboldened by a more meaningful code. Fleur was in awe as she watched Hermione stand her ground.
"I didn't come to apologise because I did not want to apologise," Hermione said bluntly, "The way Bill has been allowed to behave is appalling."
McGonagall took in Hermione's words, her intense and intelligent eyes darting around the small cottage, uncomfortably warm in the late summer. McGonagall's nostrils flared and she let out a small, sharp, huff.
"One could say your behaviour was equally appalling," McGonagall said finally, "But your unprovoked assault aside, we have heard you have gone and completed interviews with the Ministry's immigration department. Yet we have heard nothing from you. We have not received a debrief on the interviews, let alone any kind of notification that they were occurring. It is simply unacceptable that we had to hear of this from our other channels."
Fleur could see a flash of surprise and regret on Hermione's face. She knew the look was mirrored on her own face. Neither of them had thought to keep The Order happy with updates. They had been too preoccupied with their relationship and with the new faction they had been forming.
"I… I'm sorry for that, but—" Hermione began. McGonagall didn't give her a chance to continue.
"Ms Granger, I only conceded to you taking on this assignment because I thought you to be a reliable and sensible young woman. If you cannot cooperate with The Order— if you continue to be reigned purely by selfish emotions— Well, Fleur has changed partners once already. I'm sure the Ministry would be just as understanding if Fleur were to leave you for somebody else and restart her application. Perhaps someone of more standing, who could behave in a simple immigration interview, like myself?" McGonagall berated Hermione in her stern Scottish brogue.
Fleur flinched at being talked about like an object, moved from assigned partner to assigned partner in The Order. She should be used to it by now, but after the pleasantness of Hermione treating her like a person, it stung to be brought right back to how things had been before Hermione.
McGonagall— The Order— they had never once consulted her in what was to be done with her. Since joining The Order and her mother delivering the background of the prophecy, she had simply been treated as an object.
To say Fleur had expected better was an understatement. But she supposed the same strong and honourable witches and wizards in The Order had also been the same people to enslave hundreds of House Elves at Hogwarts. To do nothing as Hagrid struggled with his giant family. To shame Lupin and force him to hide his werewolf status, as if it were an affliction.
Still, it was shocking. McGonagall rarely addressed Fleur herself when discussing Fleur's affairs. When she did, she spoke to Fleur like she was a child. She was careless when discussing who could pretend to be Fleur's spouse.
It infuriated Fleur sometimes.
McGonagall was held up to be a pillar of honour. The next best option to Dumbledore. But there were very few she would actually listen to. She regularly dismissed opinions and ideas from other members of The Order. She was cold and calculated as she strategised, able to put feelings entirely out of her mind.
Fleur had no doubt that McGonagall was a highly intelligent and powerful witch. But she was also incredibly ruthless. And that combination scared Fleur.
"You wouldn't," Hermione responded with a scowl. Her tone was far less sure than her words. "That would be ridiculous."
"More ridiculous than her current partner assaulting people at high profile galas? Storming into Fleur's immigration interview and causing a scene?" McGonagall retorted, drawing her shoulders back.
Hermione let out a small noise of outrage.
"They had her strapped to a table," Hermione responded, her voice shaking with anger, "They were talking of her and treating her like she was an animal."
McGonagall didn't miss a beat.
"She's part-Veela, Ms Granger," McGonagall replied coldly, "You may not agree with the treatment, but that is just how things are. Whilst I agree that the Ministry can be a touch heavy handed at times, I think this is once again a case of you being far too ruled by emotions. It has long been a flaw of you, Mr Potter and Mr Weasley. I can only express my regret that I believed you had matured enough to join The Order."
"You can't just take Fleur and assign her to a new partner," Hermione shot back, admirably side-stepping the attacks to her ego and the issues with the Ministry.
McGonagall finally looked at Fleur then, for the first time since Fleur had answered the door. Fleur didn't like the way McGonagall looked at her. Very rarely with empathy, a trait she exhibited less as the war progressed and hardened the old Scottish witch. Her eyes roamed Fleur carelessly like the men in The Order, lingering a touch too long for comfort, before simply moving away without a second thought. Fleur wasn't a person to her.
"I have far more influence with the Ministry than you do," McGonagall said, her hard eyes returning to Hermione, "And I am more capable of being rational and carrying out what must be done. Think on this, Hermione. It would be a terrible complication and dreadful to have to explain to the Ministry, but if you do not improve your behaviour, I'm afraid I will have no choice."
This seemed to be the final straw that broke Hermione's control in the conversation. Hermione fisted her hands tightly and stepped closer to McGonagall. She was no longer the small First Year. She was a tall woman, almost equal to McGonagall in height. She looked her former Head Teacher directly in the eyes.
"You don't even have the decency to include Fleur in a conversation about herself," Hermione seethed, gesturing at Fleur, "You've barely looked at her, though she is just as much a part of this as I am."
McGonagall took a step back from Hermione, brushing down her tartan robes. She picked an invisible piece of lint off her shoulder.
"You're emotional again, Ms Granger," McGonagall replied with an infuriatingly calm tone, "This is the exact problem I am talking about. Correct your behaviour and we won't need to have another one of these unpleasant conversations. I will be keeping closer tabs on you from now on."
McGonagall turned away from Hermione.
"Ms Granger," McGonagall said in simple farewell. She glanced at Fleur again.
Fleur felt a twist of discomfort as the steely gaze ran briefly down her body and back up to meet her eyes again.
"Fleur," McGonagall said coldly, "I will see you both again soon. Goodbye."
McGonagall let herself out of the small cottage. Fleur and Hermione stood, shell shocked, until the sharp slam of the door closing snapped them back to life.
"That was…"
"Dreadful," Hermione finished for Fleur. She shook her head, "At least it has just reinforced that we are doing the right thing. I'm so angry… I just…"
Hermione began to pace again, this time in anger. Her hands flexed and fisted as she furrowed her brows.
"Hermione, don't let this distract you," Fleur said softly, coming over to comfort her wife. It can't have been easy for Hermione having such a challenging conversation with somebody that she had looked up to until recently.
Hermione's muscles felt tense and jumpy as Fleur wrapped her arms around her, stilling her restless pacing. She held Hermione in a tight embrace until the brunette relaxed. Hermione dipped her head down, coming to rest in Fleur's hair. She exhaled in a frustrated puff of air into Fleur's neck.
"We have our way forward," Fleur said soothingly. She ran her hands up and down the muscles of the taller girl's back. Hermione was relaxing, slowly.
"I can't stand the thought of somebody taking you away from me," Hermione admitted quietly into the safety of Fleur's neck. She spoke so softly, Fleur wondered if the brunette had meant for her to hear what she said.
Fleur released Hermione from her embrace, kissing the brunette softly on the lips.
"Come, we had plans," Fleur encouraged coyly, "Though, now you seem less impatient, perhaps I can make some breakfast."
"Fleur!" Hermione protested, though a smile had begrudgingly returned to her face.
"Horcruxes," Hermione said firmly, sitting down at the large table in at Grimmauld Place.
"Hermione!" Harry yelped in horror, standing up so fast that he almost knocked his chair to the ground, "Dumbledore entrusted me with the confidential—"
"—We know about them, Harry," Lupin informed the Boy Who Lived, "The Order are well aware of the existence of them, though not the identity. Dumbledore had kept the members informed of his goal to destroy them, though had been very insistent that he could be the only one to carry out the work. Then later, you."
The new faction were sitting around the table Grimmauld Place, having received Hermione's last minute invitation to meet. Harry and Ron were incredulous at Lupin's words.
"Bloody hell!" Ron muttered, "So much for secrecy!"
"It is under great secrecy," Lupin assured the boys, "The Order are very restricted on when they discuss the topic. Often, particularly with more junior or newer members, conversations can only be held on the topic when members have been dosed with a potion that will prevent them from being able to disclose any part of the conversation."
"Then why haven't they talked to me about it?" Harry replied hotly, "I've been trying to muddle through on my own since Dumbledore died and you're telling me that The Order has been there and able to give guidance this entire time?!"
Tonks said nothing, but met Hermione's gaze. Hermione supposed the bright-haired Auror had been dosed similarly to herself and was therefore unable to speak on the topic. The Weasley twins appeared similarly unsurprised.
"It isn't in their interests to talk to you about it, Harry," Lupin said solemnly, "They can control you more easily when you are unaware that they know. But rest assured, with our new group, we can work on this problem together. You aren't alone anymore, Harry."
Harry furrowed his brow, rubbing the heels of his hands against his temples.
"I just don't understand…" Harry said with a frown, "Dumbledore said he trusted only me with the task…"
Hermione stayed silent, fiddling with the ring on her finger. She was feeling a heavy mood descending again, but understood Harry's confusion and frustration. Harry had never had anyone he could rely on and look up to before he had met Dumbledore. Harry had always had the wise and honourable wizard on a pedestal.
Hermione agreed Dumbledore was brilliant. He had done amazing things in his lifetime as well. In fact, she was in awe of his legacy. But that didn't mean that he was always in the right… or always truthful.
Hermione looked to Fleur, sitting beside her. The beautiful blonde was watching Harry intently. Her face was stony, but Hermione could see from the look in her eyes that the blonde felt for the orphaned Harry too. The more Hermione got to know Fleur, the more she understood her to be a surprisingly empathetic woman. Whip smart and guarded, but not as devoid of emotion as Fleur allowed people to believe.
"We will never know what Dumbledore's intentions were," Lupin said in a gentle and diplomatic tone, "We cannot know every conversation and decision that was made before his death. All we can do is strive to do the right thing."
A silence fell over the table.
As usual, the cavernous and grand structure of Grimmauld Place was doing much to keep out the late summer heat. However, wayward sunbeams streamed through window panes, splashing onto the long table they were seated at.
Though they had once spent a summer cleaning the household, it had never quite lost its old and abandoned feel— flecks of dust lit up in the sunbeams like glitter.
Hermione shifted in her seat. She wasn't in the mood for having to carefully handle Harry's abandonment issues today.
She knew she was being unfair.
She was almost certain it had something to do with the ornate ring on her finger.
"Can you tell whether something is a horcrux or not?" Hermione said, losing patience with the long silence.
Harry, seated across the table from her, raised his big green eyes to meet her gaze. For all the dark-haired boy had seen, for all he had gone through, there was still a boyish innocence in his eyes. Like he was begging for someone to look after him, take him in and make him whole, but would never voice it.
He was pale. He looked as though he hadn't been sleeping well. But when you were friends with Harry Potter, you got used to his semi regular patches of night terrors and headaches.
Harry frowned, furrowing his brow.
"I once thought… I thought I could…" Harry said slowly, "I could tell there was something off about that diary Ginny had in our Second Year, I just couldn't put my finger on it. But… I'm not sure."
Hermione would usually be patient and empathetic here, recognising that Harry was shouldering a lot of blame for the deaths of Sirius and Dumbledore and whoever else had come to harm in Voldemort's quest for power. But a dark negativity was more gradually clouding her thinking.
Hermione wrenched the ring off her finger suddenly and tossed it across the table to Harry.
Ever the gifted Seeker, Harry snatched it easily out of the air. He held the ring closely in front of his face, fiddling with it in his fingers.
Hermione almost instantly felt the negativity subside a little, bolstering her suspicions once more. If it wasn't a horcrux, then there was at least some kind of dark curse on the thing.
The others around the table leaned forward with interest. All had heard at some point or another how the piece of Voldemort's soul in Tom Riddle's diary had pulled in Harry, how he had been able to connect with the piece of soul in the horcrux back in his Second Year.
Harry's eyes flickered shut and he was silent. His fingers stilled on the ring.
Fleur moved her chair closer to Hermione, her hand coming to grab her thigh tightly. Hermione suppressed a shiver as Fleur's lips brushed at the shell of her ear.
"Why did you not tell me you suspected it was a horcrux?" Fleur whispered.
Hermione could hear the insecurity lurking behind the question. She put a hand on top of Fleur's. Despite it being a warm day, Fleur's hand was cold. Hermione squeezed it comfortingly.
"I didn't suspect anything until late last night," Hermione whispered back to her wife, "I slept on it, and this morning was more suspicious than ever. I didn't want to jump to conclusions until I had brought it to Harry to look closely at. You would have thought me absolutely mad for claiming Narcissa Malfoy had dropped off a horcrux out of the blue."
Fleur frowned slightly.
"I wouldn't have thought you were mad," the blonde responded simply.
Hermione smiled, trying to allay any lurking fears that might be prying at the corners of Fleur's mind.
Everything about Fleur's life had shaped the woman to distrust others. To read in to their behaviour for the worst. Hermione couldn't change those doubts overnight, but it was tough to see how easily she could push Fleur away by simply not communicating more.
Hermione had spent the majority of her time with Harry and Ron since she was eleven. Her friendship with the two boys— bless them— had hardly prepared her for a relationship with a partner who would need more emotional support and communication.
Harry's eyes snapped open suddenly.
Ron jolted in his seat with the abrupt surprise of it.
Harry was suddenly paler, suddenly looking more weary and fearful. It was almost as if he had forgotten he was sitting at the table at Grimmauld Place, as he blinked slowly and looked around at his peers.
Harry swallowed heavily, running a trembling hand through his spiky black hair.
"I… I think it is… I… I saw something…" Harry said, his voice unsteady.
Whatever terrible thing Harry had seen, he didn't elaborate on, simply placing the ring on the polished wood of the table in front of him.
Everyone's eyes fixed on the small ring.
An elegant looking heirloom. Dangerous.
"Well, don't just gape at it!" Ron suddenly said, looking around with wide eyes, "Someone squash it!"
This seemed to break the solemness in the room as Fred and George burst into loud peals of laughter.
"Squash it?" Fred giggled, leaning back in his chair.
"It's a bloody ring, not a fly!" George echoed, slapping his knee and doubling over, "Not to mention a horcrux with Merlin knows what curses on it!"
Scowling and pouting, Ron crossed his arms defensively across his chest.
"I don't see anybody else rushing to deal with it," Ron said petulantly, his cheeks reddening a little with embarrassment.
Lupin's intense gaze on the ring had been broken by the Weasley boys and their antics. He now looked at Hermione with fascination.
"Where did you get it?" Lupin asked with great interest, "How did you suspect it was a horcrux?"
The twins' laughter curtailed as Hermione answered Lupin, explaining the odd encounter with the Malfoys and second-guessing her sudden decline in mood the previous evening. She explained that it had been a long shot, but she had needed Harry to confirm it for her. As she spoke, Lupin tapped his lips thoughtfully with a finger.
"So, that and the diary makes two," Tonks thought aloud.
"And Marvolo Gaunt's ring," Harry reminded, still pale and solemn, "Dumbledore destroyed that one with the sword of Gryffindor."
"Three," Tonks corrected, "Out of the seven Dumbledore suspected You Know Who had made."
While they talked, Lupin had got up from his seat and walked over to Harry, picking up the ring from the table and inspecting it carefully.
"Godric Gryffindor's ring," Lupin exclaimed in awe, "How very perverse for He Who Must Not Be Named to select this as a horcrux."
"And strange for it to be in the possession of a die-hard slimy Slytherin family like the Malfoys," George noted.
Lupin walked the length of the table, looking at the ring, his brow furrowed in thought.
"Not necessarily," Lupin spoke as he paced, "Marvolo Gaunt held some significance for the Dark Lord. Godric Gryffindor, was a powerful and mighty wizard with quite the legacy. It makes sense that the Dark Lord, despite the classic Slytherin-Gryffindor rivalry and inter-house tensions, would seek out the keepsake of one of the Hogwarts founders as a horcrux. Hogwarts was a large part of Tom Riddle's early life. Ingenious really, because who would suspect a figurehead of the Slytherin house to seek out keepsakes from the other Hogwarts founders?"
Lupin continued pacing.
"As for the possession of it by the Malfoys, that is not so strange when you consider their connections," Lupin continued, "Bellatrix Lestrange has long been considered the Dark Lord's right hand soldier. I wouldn't be surprised if she had been in the possession of many of the horcruxes at some time or another. In ensuring their safekeeping, she must have given this one to her sister, Narcissa, to wear amongst her other jewellery. Being constantly on Narcissa's person, Bellatrix probably considered it a fairly safe place. Hiding in plain sight, so to speak."
"It makes sense…" Harry concurred slowly, "Before… You know… Dumbledore and I… We'd zeroed in on a locket from Salazar Slytherin, a cup from Helga Hufflepuff and thought that perhaps the others were keepsakes from other Hogwarts founders."
"Gaunt's ring, Tom Riddle's diary, Gryffindor's ring," Hermione listed off, "Salazar Slytherin's locket, Helga Hufflepuff's cup, something from Ravenclaw. That's six."
"Dumbledore had said something about Voldemort wanting to create seven, about it being a significant number," Harry said, his brow furrowed, "That he had been in the process of creating his last horcruxes when he… Well… When he killed my parents and everything went pear shaped for him."
"So, it's entirely likely that there are just the six," Tonks chimed in, "That's doable, we can do that. Only one that we need to figure out still, and the rest we already know what we are looking for. Two already destroyed and one in our possession. We're halfway there!"
Hermione couldn't help but smile at the unshakeable optimism of the young Auror. It was beginning to make sense over time how Tonks had been sorted into Hufflepuff when she had been at Hogwarts. It was almost maddening how chipper she could be in the face of such adversity.
Hermione herself was more of a realist. The jarring interaction with McGonagall that morning was still fresh in her mind. She was feeling like they were running short of time already.
"When will we be able to move to the stage of disappearing to Lupin's family's property?" Hermione asked, before explaining the visit from McGonagall and how she had indicated that they would be under closer management by the Order.
Lupin seemed worried by this, beginning to pull and scratch at the bristles on his chin with nervousness. He exchanged glances with Tonks.
"Soon, but not for a few days…" Lupin admitted, his pacing intensifying, "If things really get out of hand… I guess we could risk it… I just want to be sure I have removed any way of distant relatives inadvertently finding their way there in the hopes of a getaway."
"Do you think they will get out of hand?" Tonks asked Hermione and Fleur.
"Despite Minerva's protests, I don't believe we have acted in any way that would cause the Ministry to doubt our story," Fleur replied, her hand once again making its way to rest possessively on Hermione's thigh, "If anything, our conduct at our interviews would have convinced them more. The only issue that exists is that the Order want us to communicate more frequently with them. We can manage that until this new location is available for us all to move."
Lupin nodded.
"On the topic of the move," Lupin cleared his throat, looking at those around the table, "We need to all begin tying things up in our lives. Once we go off the grid, we have no idea how long we will need to remain there. We will need to avoid the Order and need to minimise trips to those necessary to track down horcruxes and demobilise You Know Who and his followers."
Fred and George nudged each other.
"On that note—"
"If there isn't anything else big to talk about—"
"George and I have a couple of birds we'd like to see before we become hermits," Fred finished with a grin.
With that, the meeting resolved, the small group making pleasantries and discussing the first big step of their new faction: moving off the grid.
The twins left first, eager to visit the women they had mentioned. Next Lupin and Tonks made their goodbyes and headed off.
Hermione had taken back the ring, fiddling with it with a furrowed brow.
"Hermione,"
Hermione was surprised. She had been so engrossed in her thoughts about horcruxes and the task of destroying them, she had scarcely noticed the group thinning out.
Fleur was in front of her, looking at her with an amused smile.
"Er, sorry, I was lost in thought," Hermione apologised with a sheepish smile.
Fleur flashed a grin that had the potential to melt Hermione into a puddle on the expensive hardwood floors.
"I figured," Fleur responded, "I know you like your time to figure things out. With Remus indicating we will be moving sooner than I thought, I should stop in to Gringotts to make sure all my affairs are tidied up. See you at home?"
"Yeah," Hermione smiled, relieved. It was a nice change to be close to someone who understood her need to stop action and just take time to delve into the inner workings of things. The boys, as close as she was to them, were more prone to immediate action. Hermione liked to look before she leaped.
For a quick moment, the horcrux in her hands was almost entirely forgotten though, as Fleur leaned close enough for the floral hints of her perfume to tease at Hermione's senses. Hermione gazed into deep blue eyes framed with impossibly long and dark eyelashes. There was a flash of concern in those depths, but mostly something that made Hermione weak— desire.
Hermione felt her knees loosen as Fleur's full, warm lips pressed against her own.
It was a chaste kiss, barely longer than a few seconds. But Hermione found her eyes flickered shut and her stomach gave a pleasant twang.
"Bon," Fleur smiled.
The blonde was gone before Hermione had even regained her senses.
Blinking, Hermione tried to recall the train of thought she had been racing along prior to the blonde's kiss. Damnable hormones.
"Blimey,"
Ron's overly appreciative tone drew Hermione back to her senses with a slight scowl.
"Right, let's talk," Hermione said bossily, turning to the two boys in front of her.