v.

"…Can you take me high enough..?

..Can you fly me over…?

..Fly me over yesterday.."

~Damn Yankees~

--

Overhead the water continued to pour, beating a soft cadence on her barren flesh. Random rhythms could be made out and she found herself humming nameless tunes to them. Hermione slowly inclined her head, letting her mouth slip open allowing for a few rivulets to stream into its depths. Her eyes were screwed shut, and her mouth filled till she choked. Her head lurched forth as she began spewing the liquid therein – while her body began to convulse with unsolicited shudders. The humming soon turned to weak sobs. And before the young Muggle knew - she was curled upon the cold marble floor, pulling her knees to her chest.

Hermione's mind searched incessantly for answers that seemed like they would never come. The young woman never felt this helpless before. Never. Hermione Granger had been known for her resolve, no-nonsense quips, and bossy fortitude.. Above all.. her brains.

..but you weren't prepared.

You didn't have your precious books. You didn't have your lectures, not a one by way of Cliffs Notes – The answers are so much simpler if they were in print.. If you had an instructor…

Your first actual relationship would be nothing but aces, then, wouldn't it? But..

..But your soul isn't as easily to be read, is it Hermione? A wing and a prayer - yet no one hears you. How lost do you feel now? The girl with knowledge, with answers to proverbially everything, is left without a wit to her own dilemma.

..You've no control, do you?

"And.. I don't know how to handle it", replied her meek and frightened voice. The sound caught her off guard. It hardly SOUNDED like that assured Witch that during their tenure here had been the go-to person for the boys. Hermione had EVERYTHING planned, everything answered before they were even questioned.

In her need to win her own identity the young Prefect felt.. she had lost, she was the third person of the Magnificent Trio, the girl who dated the Quidditch Gryffindor team's Keeper – King Weasley. She was Harry's other best friend. Hermione was reminded her station in life – a slap to her face and everything jostled into a warped perspective. What made her think she could refuse this existence? What made her think she could go at it alone… her identity had been forged in circumspect. Her life would always be entwined with Harry and Ron.

Hermione glanced to her now pruned hands. Not having any idea as to how long she had been in that shower stall the young woman, soaked to the bone, rose achingly to her feet. So with shaking hands, she reached forth and turned the knobs to cease the feeding water. There was so much steam, it was difficult to find her way out from those gang showers that the female prefects had shared.

At the irony of her current situation, Hermione heard herself laugh - a hollow and bitter sound – which rippled from the pit of her throat. Absently her hand with splayed fingers, coursed her neck. "It's a bloody sign isn't it?" She called out, only hearing the haunting echoes of her voice bouncing off the marbled walls. With a wave of her hand, the steam parted briefly, affording Hermione a stolen glance of her feet, only to be covered once more by the mist.

"Lost in the proverbial haze.." Again, there was no answer. After a few misguided steps and a few bruises to her shins, Hermione finally found her way to where she remembered placing her gown. Her thoughts were so far gone that the Muggle-Witch hadn't had sense enough to towel herself off. She slipped the gown over her drenched head and barely paid any attention to the fact that the garb began to stick at every crevice of her water licked form.

Tired and disgusted with not finding any answers to the questions that ran through her mind, she made her way from the gang showers and into the main Prefect Dormitory hallways. Her feet were bare, but crossing the cobblestone floor hadn't phased her in the least. It was as if her body instinctively went numb to save her any more grief that she may stumble on.

It was the dead of night and the ambiance that was set by the Hallway was apropos. Dimly lit by a line of torches, the place almost seemed to thrive on depression. Overhead the flagons and banisters held each of the colors of the respective houses – as they rocked gently, the weight of them had caused the rods to moan with an age-old ache. Cathedral like windows lined the corridor letting in what little light the moon allowed this night. With the onset of the mist in the afternoon, it had remained overcast and absolutely dismal.

The light played over her body as she walked without purpose along the Hallway. One thing she had always taken a slight pleasure in, was making her rounds as a prefect. Right now, she would rather be doing that in the buff than return to that room. No longer did it feel as if it were hers, it took on a more insidious feel with what had happened a half hour ago. Leaving the main hall, Hermione had crossed into one of the many veins of the Dormitory – the guest rooms that housed the many vendors for the Career Fair that day.

Her eyes scanned each Oak door, discounting one by one. She muttered to no one save herself as she went along. "..Not this one.. not that either. You've got to be here, tell me you've not gone".

At a few of those doors, the teenager stopped and pressed her ear to the ridged surface. Panic bubbled from the pit of her belly; her steps were brisk, threatening to break out into a run as she searched for that one door, one door that Hermione believed would offer stability..

--

She should have been asleep.

But it is not as if she were a young girl with a curfew to follow. At least not any longer. That job now fell to her beloved sister. Cradling a few of Gabrielle's owl sent letters in her hand, Fleur found herself with what seemed like an eternal smile on the full of her lips. Setting them lovingly aside, she rose from her bed and ambled towards the writing desk just adjacent her.

She flicked her gaze towards the window and murmured out "Alohomora", the window gave, shimmying just a smidgeon open to allow the earthen smell of rain and grass to waft into the room. Fleur's eyes shut ever so slightly as she breathed in the scents of life. A gentle breeze slipped in, sending her perfect silver tresses into a chaotic spill - not that she minded, and not that it would matter, her hair would always return into its impeccable state of rest. Tugging the chair that rested against the desk, Fleur situated herself and took Quill to parchment.

But only paused as she thought of what to pen. What would she tell her sister? How she had played Bill? Or.. how she had met this wondrous person; a person with passion and an inquisitiveness of the historical arts, that would rival her own. How she had found this person's eyes so penetrating that it scared her. Scared her into realizing that what she WAS isn't who she is. She is more than JUST a Veela.

When her eyes had met Hermione's by the lakeside Atrium, the Quarter Veela could feel the heat, the questions of 'why' echoing behind the young teen's gaze. Bill was to be her plaything, her puppet – resorting back to her Veela ways to seduce the man.

But.. She stopped. Fleur felt guilt, felt the tinge of embarrassment. Felt her eyes roaming her body..

In retrospect.. when she had shoved him from her, she had hurt the man. The French-Woman had apologized for actions. It was no shock to her though, that Bill had gone ballistic. It more than likely made whatever possibility to salvage their relationship, even on the most basic of friendship levels, now, nigh impossible.

Those thoughts tumbled in her gray matter – her sister had always been someone she could chat with about such things, especially when Gabrielle had gotten older. But Fleur had found herself hesitant to mention certain aspects. As she prepared to write those sentiments down, Fleur's eyes drifted towards the door. Her perfectly sculpted brows knitted together before curling a tuft of her silken strands behind her ear. Shadows scurried at the crack of the foot of the massive door. Then, they'd stopped moving. What followed was so soft the sound was ALMOST barely heard.

"Entrée.."

It took but a few moments, but the door did crack open, revealing a shadowed form. Fleur didn't have to ask who it was, the outline of the young woman's figure sang volumes, including that head of hair. She pushed herself from the desk, easing then, one leg over the other; with her hands flowing to the fore, finally nestling upon her thighs..

--

Hermione slipped in and gently closed the door after her. Her arms wrapped about her body before raising her eyes. And there, she sat – the woman didn't realize the sort of power her presence was emanating. Fleur was confident, elegant, assured.. strong. Something Hermione sorely needed. She found her throat dry, and her heart hammering in her ears.

"..I came..To… My papers.. resumes, I had forgotten them in your tent.", she lamely explained. Hermione was amazed she had enough in her to speak at all.

Fleur unfurled her legs and slowly rose to her bared feet. The dress shirt she sported did barely enough to hide her every svelte curve. Smoothly she maneuvered from the seat towards the chest of drawers not too far from the bed, her back was again, turned to Hermione. The drawers were opened, and she noticed Fleur had pulled something out from their confines.

Hermione felt compelled to keep speaking.

"..I.. I mean I know it's… This is an ungodly, hour.. and.. and you've probably prepped for bed.. I just.. you see, the resumes… they.."

"Could 'ave waited. Oui?" Fleur responded from the fringes of the moonlit darkness of the room. As she moved from it, the light bathed her form, caressing every nuance of her Veela flesh. Hermione lowered her gaze.

"Yes.. no.. well.. no! ..you think me silly. I.. I know. But, you've got to understand.. please understand." Hermione's voice cracked in plea.

By that and other evidences on the youth, Fleur had known there was more to be shared. As she turned about, she was witness to the young prefect's subdued nature. It was a stark contrast to their earlier meeting. Having closed the divide between them, Fleur gently reached out and cupped the girl's chin.

Her palm was warm. It automatically flushed through her system. Making Hermione realize, she was actually freezing. Unsolicited spasms wracked the Prefect's drenched form. But painfully slow, her eyes were drawn upward.. Rosewood played within the sea of Crystalline Blue. And it felt like home. Try as she could, Hermione tasted the familiarity of saline touch her lips – she couldn't prevent them from falling.

Fleur smiled gently before pulling Hermione within her towel-covered arms. She murmured a few words in French, cooing to the young woman before guiding her sobbing form towards the bed. Hermione's form sunk into the folds of the down beddings; as she sat there, her head was suddenly covered, she felt Fleur's fingers through the thick of the towel as they massaged her scalp. The Veela's hands them moved further down her prone form.. and before she knew it, Fleur was on bended knee, looking up at her.

"Merci, Fleur.."

Pulling the towel about Hermione's form snugly, Fleur placed her hand upon the youth's knee and offered a reassuring squeeze, "I've spoken to Professor McGonagall.." Hermione blinked and realized that Fleur was giving her the time she needed to gather her thoughts. She was amazed the woman understood what she needed. No one bothered to look that deeply.

"She 'az given me permission to conduct an internsheep over d'olidays. S'long it does not trouble your O.W.L.s. But I am thinking.. you do not 'ave t'worry, no? you are.." Fleur had wonderment graced over her features, trying to pick the perfect word to convey her sentiments. Till, her lips puckered and she had pressed the tips of her fingertips to them. With an exaggerated kiss the woman purred out, "..magnifique."

Hermione mopped her face with the edge of the towel hiding a deeply hued blush that dotted her cheeks. "..If only you knew", she off-handedly murmured. Hermione's voice became more prominent. "That's wonderful news, Fleur - Can't think of any one more deserving of this chance..You don't know how much I admire, you."

Fleur rose to her feet then eased herself on the bed; which dipped even further as the elder woman joined the Prefect. "Non. Don' admire someone like me, chere. I am jus' trying to make ends meet in m'life." She paused and cast a glance to Hermione, "just like you. Now… d'plan iz we will leave during-"..

"Leave? You mean you and I?" Hermione shook her head in negation – feeling absolute remorse for it, "I.. I can't.. it'll be the Christmas holidays..Ron and the others will expect me at the Burrow this year.. and.. I can't disappoint them. So you see.. I can't go." She was miserable.

"..Who are you?"

"What?" a look of confusion was given at that, "Don't be daft - you know very well who I am.."

Fleur flopped upon her back, rolling to one side and propped her head on her tucked arm, "'Zactly what I am asking. I don' tink we've ever met before."

"you're being preposterous, Fleur. I came here.." Hermione paused and wrestled with her tongue for words that her inner mind was screaming,

'to be held, to bask in your strength, to know you more.. to be with you..' ,

"..to tell you.. that I can't dive into the Unknown, I've already gotten things.. things set up for me." She was flushed, she knew it – and Fleur just smirked. It was.. insolent, it was.. irksome. Couldn't she SEE her pain? Why else would she come here? She should know!

"W-..what are you going on like that for?" The girl bounded off the bed, and spun about with narrowed eyes on Fleur.

Fleur pulled herself from the grasp of the sheets, her dress shirt was hooked about her thigh, the few unbuttoned parts of it, leveled to reveal a bit of the Veela's gentle swell of her chest. Her Cerulean eyes flashed as she advanced upon Hermione.

"It iz lovely to 'ave you 'ere 'Ermione.. There was someone 'ere that was uninvited." Fleur mused, "She kept on about 'ow she couldn' do dis, cannot do dat - It was.. annoying. After-all.." Fleur paused in her slow trek, now standing before the young muggle; her hand eased forth brushing back the locks that kept her from Hermione's gaze. The tips of her fingers whispered gently over Hermione's jawline.. It was soft, her eyes were so inviting and filled with fire, Fleur couldn't help but be.. entranced.

It took some time, but she found her voice, though raspen as it may have been. "..I wouldn' 'ave been..attracted were it was, someone else. Don' tell me no. Because.." Fleur breathed, "I don't know 'ow to deny." She broke the gaze. And found her heart hammering, threatening to plummet out of her chest.

"Why are you running from yourself, 'Ermione? Why would you go back on everythin' y'told me earlier..?"

"..things've changed."

"Not dat quickly, unless, it was changed for you."

"I don't want to.." Hermione sighed in exasperation. "It's a difficult matter to explain.."

"It becomes more difficile.. if you do not try.."

Pacing before Fleur, the young Muggle Witch, ran the scenario in her mind. She could very well tell Fleur everything. But was she being rash about this? Ron hadn't meant to do what he did. She convinced herself, it was the heat of the moment. He was her friend.. her best friend.. As soon as she arrived to his room that night, nothing more had happened. It was silent for the most part – probably because she off-handedly cast a Sleep Charm on him. Hermione neglected to recall that, though.

"Ron and I had a bit of a row.. And I don't.. this is the first time I don't know what to do.", she carefully mewled.

Fleur's eyes raked over Hermione's form – the nervous way she carried herself, how her eyes averted her own. There was more. But the Prefect wasn't ready.

"..in all relationships, dere iz a patch – it gets rough, sometimes, it weathers.. most times.." Fleur shrugged congenially, "Dey don'." With a beckoning pat upon the bed, the Veela looked to Hermione, her slender brow arched precariously above her doe-shaped eyes. Hermione didn't need to be prompted twice.

Fleur righted herself moving towards the middle of the bed; as Hermione settled upon the edge of the bed.. she felt the Veela's knees situating at either side of her hips. Her body involuntarily arched. Soon.. the young Muggle heard Fleur's dulcet tones..

"An' when dey don' work out, you will come to a road in which a decision mus' be made. But it is not anyone's place to tell YOU what you need do. Comprenz?" Fleur's fingers began to thread through her wavy tresses, Hermione's eyes listed, but she nodded, at least.. she thought she nodded. It took her a while to realize Fleur was preening her – with the Prefect's hair was brushed aside Hermione felt the heat of Fleur's breath cascading over her exposed flesh.

Fleur wasn't daft. She noticed Hermione's reactions. But.. this was Hermione's night to do with as she pleased. As she WANTED. Fleur was there for support. Her voice hitched lower, dipping her head to only allow her lips to graze ever so lightly at the young woman's outer ear, "You've made those choices before, non? No one.. regarded you any less than who you are." Hermione nodded. "I certainly don'." A pause, the Veela then wrapped her arms gently about Hermione's body, her hands coursing over her arms, cradling.."..Make your choice, 'Ermione.."

"Fleur.." Words were stymied, Hermione turned her head and found what she had searched for. Fleur's lips were accessible. She was surprised at her own ferocity as in one split second.. Hermione had turned about, cupping the Veela's head tween her hands, topping the bed.. and topping Fleur who remained knelt upon the bed. With lips parted she achingly begged entrance into Fleur's mouth with tentative strokes of her tongue trailing over the shape of Fleur's lips; momentarily breaking the quest of domination as she breathlessly pleaded, "…Please… please.."

Lost in a haze Fleur brought her form upward silencing Hermione with her wanton mouth, taking in the youth. Hermione's hands were extremely soft, innocent in their 'virgin-like' touches, yet experienced enough to follow through with lust-filled abandon. Her top was loosened in no time, the shirt pooling about the pair..The gentle nature-cool of the room blanketed her, only to be replaced with a damp heat of Hermione's mouth covering her breasts, Fleur's head was thrown back, while her hands firmly held the young Prefect to her.

Fingers caressed over her back.. and Hermione moaned onto the fleshy mounds that held her attentions. Her tongue lapped, bringing the pert nipples of the Veela to full attention. Her body shuddered, realizing her gown had been relieved from her. Her head rose, feeling the delicious pressure between her thighs, at this point, Fleur was upon her back, pressing her thigh at the young Prefect's sex. Friction soon ensued as the Quarter Veela, began to rock her muscled thigh against Hermione's still covered nether region.

So moist.. so damp.. The smell of Hermione's musken scent greeted Fleur, urging her further. Her hands wandered the teen's wondrous form, amazed that what she hadn't faltered being with another female. What came so easily with a man.. was just as invigorating with a woman. More so because she knew exactly what carried Hermione's needs. Fleur coursed a hand from their ministrations of Hermione's left breast.. finding its way and replacing her thigh's attentions. Her fingers unfurled and prodded gently at the engorged, yet hooded pearl. Looking up at Hermione's features as she let out a gasp, Fleur concentrated everything in her wiles upon the youth.

They locked eyes.. The explorations of her fingers picked up pace. Fleur sensed it – the youth was close.

Hermione couldn't stop it, not even if she wanted to.

She was brought up towards dizzying heights, it left her head swimming, left her body gasping for air that seemed to refuse to fill her lungs. Fleur's eyes swallowed Hermione whole.. Never once did the woman enter her. But the whole, completed her so fully, that it seemed like she was absolved.

But reality lingered not too far away. Soft rays of morning light soon slipped pass the heavy drapes of the guest room.

Someone would have to wake soon..

--