Four.
Hermione's view…
"Reckon we can't 'ave us a picnic," mewled Neville. His face was plastered against one of the sweeping Cathedral-style windows of the antiquated edifice.
"Not that we could have one anyway, Headmaster's called for an assembly," announced Hermione in her ever matter of fact-like tone.
But then a pitchfork shape of blinding white-hot light stabbed at the horizon, while its tail end spider-webbed across the now darkened skies of England, the howling and whipping of rain plus wind elevated the storm ridden ambiance. It sent the younger students of Hogwarts into a fit of fright and sheer child like excitement. Those that cowered had found themselves gravitating towards their only beacon. The Heads' of each of their respective houses. Hermione found it utterly endearing…She couldn't wait to have a few of her own, she'd hoped Ron felt the same.
In crisp and efficient fashion, the teenager herded her flock together then led them towards the cavernous expanse of the Great Hall. Along the way she had idly begun to explain to her ducklings, what and why lightening exists and occurs. In Scientific terms no less.
"Could you be any less boring, Granger?"
At least she graduated from being a Mudblood.
The little ones shifted their collective eyes from Hermione towards her assailant before sending their gaze back to their Head Girl. Genially she motioned for them all to file in giving them a smile of assurance. Though the younglings complied, the so called mature Gryffindors had lingered about. Most admittedly delighted in the confrontations that played between Slytherin folk and their own. Considering it was one of the Three, the confrontation was made more worthwhile.
Hermione turned her eyes towards the source of the assault. The snide smirk and slightly pock marked face of the otherwise debonair Slytherin Head Boy, greeted her. Draco Malfoy stalked towards her with that sickening swagger. He was, she grudgingly admitted, quite the gorgeous slab of maleness. Where Ron and Harry flaunted their roguish come hither looks, Draco had been the perfect Calvin Klein candidate; cutting a dangerous and sharp look in tailored suits. A defined wall of Maroon/Gold and Emerald/Whites formed just outside of the Hall.
She crossed her arms over the gentle swell of her modestly sized chest. Another clap of thunder boomed.
"I could easily be less boring…If you could be a lot smarter." Hermione smiled saccharinely sweet; Draco's brow quirked. As she side-glanced the Muggle noticed a few cherubic faced youths that remained near her. She forcibly held back her venomous wordsmithing because of that fact.
"As much as I'd love to hear how below you I am…Now isn't the time Malfoy – take your aggressions out elsewhere," Hermione chided.
She had whirled about to gather her remaining charges, a gentle but firm pressure was felt at the crook of her arm. Slowly, Hermione glanced over her shoulder. Draco Malfoy was mere inches from her, and tugged her closer still.
His breath was surprisingly gentle and smelled of peppermint – not as stagnant as she had thought. Draco's lips weren't chapped either, something she had been unused to. As he spoke the venom that had always been resident was suddenly replaced with what she thought was…compassion?
"Listen Granger, if anything happens between you and Weaslebee…"
But in a flash Draco's arm was ripped from further contact of the Muggle. Hermione witnessed that had his head whip-lashed backward. Situated protectively before her, her red faced beau stood towering over the sprawled Slytherin. Harry had flanked her right, his wand was drawn and at the ready.
"Touch 'er again…," infuriated Ron, "I'll break your arms an' make sure they'll only be touchin' the inside of your arsehole."
Hoots and hollers exploded on the Gryffindor side. Slytherin with all their house pride they could muster edged into the darker portions of the expansive hallway before they had slipped into the Great Hall. Draco's seething slate-gray eyes narrowed in utter contempt towards Ron. His eyes drifted then towards the coffee trussed Muggle…
She felt her cheeks swelter with heat at the intensity of the Slytherin's stare. The muggle didn't understand what had just happened. But she knew she had never seen Ron so…enraged before. Hermione wormed her way to the fore pressing both Harry and Ron backward. "E-Enough! Just…" she looked back towards a bloodied Draco; he'd been lead away by his loyal cronies, "…Leave him be, forget it!"
They acquiesced, not willingly.
Ron gripped Hermione's hand and pulled her into a secluded niche. There he pushed her firmly against the dank wall. His knee wedged itself between her thighs, garnering a surprised cry. Only to be stifled with his rough lips pressed against her own. She surprised herself with how much she had wanted it. Hermione's arms draped about Ron's neck, clinging to him and drawing him further onto her. He complied.
Between those searing kisses he breathed out, "He was flirting with you, you know tha'…" then clamped his teeth at the fleshy junction of her neck and shoulder.
She whimpered, "…You're deluded."
"You're mine. You belong t'me."
She was taken aback at the ferocity in his eyes at that proclamation, "I…I know."
"I love you more'n anyone else possibly ever could." He pulled back, "You do know tha', don't you?"
Hermione searched his eyes and saw the sincerity she'd always known. "I feel every bit as you do."
He smiled, pressing his lips to her forehead, "Then tell me, I wanna hear it…"
Hermione couldn't contain her smile, and leaned forward. She brushed her lips over his eyes and whispered, "As I need the air to breathe…I need you. I love you, Ronald Weasley."
"Be with me tonight?"
She puzzled at this, "I'm already with you, aren't I?"
"No. Not in the way that I want." Ron paused, bringing her hands to his lips, kissing the back of them gently, "I wanna make you mine completely; you know it's right – y'been teasin' me for so long, I don't think I can 'old out."
"Ron…we've been through this – I'm just not sure if…I'm--"
He drew back looking at her from the shadows where Hermione couldn't read his features. They stood there for what seemed like an eternity she couldn't move. An indiscernible mood was set and for her to move suddenly would bring the surrealistic moment crashing about her. Ron finally eased from her, his back turned. Slipping his hands into his pockets the red headed teen looked to her from over his broad shoulder.
"I love you Hermione, remember that – promise?"
She let loose a breath, "Always."
Hermione would never forget.
- - - -
Harry had been faithfully waiting at the entryway albeit entertaining a few girls with his adventures. Ginny happened by with Luna Lovegood and pointedly ignored the Teen Wonder – Soon afterward, Harry followed in. Luna shuffled by as always with her face buried into an upside down periodical. But at the sight of Ron, she managed to offer a fingered, wistful wave. Normally Ron would have reciprocated in some fashion, a dopey smile or an unsure gesture of recoil…instead he breezed pass barely acknowledging either his sister or Luna.
"Well…someone's got their knickers in a bunch…," dreamily mused Luna as her eyes immediately dropped back to her paper.
"Freak," affectionately drawled Ginny, to which Luna gave a genial yet swift smile then turned her gaze towards Hermione who had tailed in after the pair.
The Muggle had always been dumbfounded at Ginny's friendship with Luna. Odd as it was, it was a friendship that was steadfast. Feeling Luna's focused gaze on her, Hermione stiffened.
"What?"
The odd girl's grin turned sympathetic, "You both had a row didn't you." The comment was stated in the most matter of fact way that it came off as a comment and not a query.
Hermione boggled, "If you must know…which you don't because it's not any of your bloody business – Ron and I are perfect. So no, no row."
"Oh," said Luna thoughtfully. "I'm sorry you had to go through it then."
"Luna," admonished Ginny, "Stop scaring all the normal people."
With a cant of her head followed by a roll of her shoulders Luna gathered her oddities and made her way between the two Gryffindors, remarking in passing, "They should stop being normal, then we'd all us get along." With an air kiss proffered towards Ginny, Luna slipped into the sea of bodies that began settling in for the Assembly.
Hermione's mouth gaped open. Ginny shrugged.
"I know, she's a wild woman that one. Can't bloody control her for naught." Ginny glanced towards the Head Girl, "Have a sit-down?", then patted a spot for Hermione.
The Muggle's gaze had traversed towards Ron who had already found his group of friends and apparently began to regale what had just occurred outside the Hall, at least from the looks of his animated hand gestures. She chuckled. Everything was fine. A Head Girl's duty had been much more demanding than a Boy's. So with a negation of her head to Ginny, Hermione explained she had been assigned to the first year's table. Her friend called it baby-sitting duties for precocious 11 year olds. In a way, it was.
Having given her goodbyes, Hermione wended her way to her designated spot. The younglings that recognized her waved ardently; those that hadn't were in awe. She was after all, 'Harry Potter's good friend'. Popularity through association had been a given when you're linked with Harry. Questions upon questions regarding the Teen Icon would soon surface. It's something she's learned to accept as her routine. A tug to her robes was felt.
Ah…here we go.
"Miss 'ermione?" The girl was bright eyed and hopeful. Hermione knelt primly with practiced eased.
"Harry's a bit like…"
The girl looked at her curiously and Hermione caught herself. It had been automatic for her to reply with her speech about her popular friend. "You don't want to hear about Harry?"
She and two other youngsters shook their heads collectively.
"Then…?"
"You and Mr. Ron!"
Hermione laughed softly and felt that infernal blush beginning to paint her cheeks. "What about?"
"Well…he's so handsome, and you've been together since before time,"
Hermione couldn't help but steal a chuckle. It had been a long time, hadn't it?
"…D'you have advice for someone looking for Mr. Right, someone like me? Or did you use magic?"
She'd've been labeled a hypocrite were she to mention the youth's age in regards to romance. Hermione hadn't been that much older when it hit her. So she took a more tactful approach, "Someone like you…?"
The girl nodded, "I'm not pretty like that girl Mr. Ron's talking to now, and…you're like me. So I thought…"
The Muggle's brow twitched at the affront and soon muted out any other words the youth had spewed.
Just a little girl…Precious…little….
Hermione swallowed her wounded pride and searched her beau out. Sure enough, he had left the throws of his mates and now stood with Parvati. Hermione rose to her feet and remained transfixed at the Carmelite and the Red Head. Their body language, their interaction, the gap that rested between them and how…intermittently it disappeared. It's almost as if…
What exactly, Hermione?Her paranoia reared its ugly head.
The floating mass of candelabras was soon dimmed as Headmaster Dumbledore began his welcoming prose – the Headmaster's voice effortlessly quelled the chatter that brewed amongst the student body. Thank God for that, thought Hermione – no more awkward questions to wrestle with. Moving from obscuring the plethora of 1st year's views, the Muggle nearly ran over fellow Head Girl of Hufflepuff's house, Susan Bones.
The latter teen was a bit out of breath, but smiled graciously none the less. "SO glad to literally run into you Hermione."
Despite the nagging sickness roiling about the pit of her stomach and her mucked about mind, the semi bushy haired Muggle brandished a charitable bob of her head, "Something the matter..?"
"Goodness I," huffed Susan, "There will be if I don't manage to finish up my report tonight."
Hermione inclined her head questioningly.
"Professor Snape – In a right fit, he is. He's just gotten meaner over the last few days." Susan nodded somberly, "Anyway, he's demanding a two scroll parchment, due tomorrow. I've YET to start."
"But it's your hall monitoring,-" The Muggle realized then nodded in understanding, "Ah…Not a problem, I'd be happy to take duty run tonight."
Susan was beside herself as she engulfed Hermione in a brief, yet ferocious embrace, "I owe you, Hermione."
The cocoa eyed teenager though, was inwardly glad to accept the duty – nights were her best time for introspection. Especially nights with no incessant clamoring of students at her door to resolve issues or to play counselor. As they had broke apart, Headmaster Dumbledore's voice drew their attention. He was dressed as always, in his eccentric mannerism – Hermione would have likened him to an American entertainer resident in those Casinos that poked up from Nevada's barren wastelands.
He went on to explain that there was an interim Transfiguration instructor whilst Professor McGonagall was on a leave of absence. As expected a slew of murmurs rumbled from the students. Rumor-mongering would soon begin in speculation of the Professor. A shock of orange and pink cropped hair bounced as the woman was introduced. Giggles rippled from many of the 1st year students, entertained by the sinewy woman who bowed with such flourish.
"I should have known."
"Oh. Oh my…Do you know her Hermione?"
She smiled in reply. "She goes by Tonks," Susan blanched witnessing the rather eclectic looking woman, display her qualifications – Her head morphed into something that the Hufflepuff would have guessed was some sort of mammal, and Hermione laughed, "It's…complicated. Rest assured, I think she's an excellent addition."
"I think I'll have to take your word for it…"
"And finally," interrupted Dumbledore prompting Tonks to cease her rumpus play upon the staging area.
It was nothing more than just a fleeting glance from the corner of her eye. But it had been enough to still her breathing. The shock of platinum weaved through the staff upon the stage and effectively remained out of view. Hermione felt herself anticipating the announcement.
"As most of you recall, some years back Hogwarts played host to the Tri-Wizard Tournament…"
Albus Dumbledore had always been a charismatic man, easily drawing more than his fare share of attention for his certain eccentricities. But that charisma wasn't the thing that garnered Hermione's current acute attentiveness. Just by the opening words to his introduction – The Muggle failed to notice that her body reacted, albeit in the most subtle manner, oddly.
She went ram-rod stiff while her eyes began searching the staging area for that one flash of Silver-fawn. Her breathing caught just as the sight of that gentle shade of Ice-blue robes that shifted in a seat just off center of the platform.
"Hermione? Are you alright? You've gone white-knuckled."
Glancing to her hands, the Head Girl had realized her fists were clenched while her arms were crossed. She looked towards Susan and nodded quickly. "Just cold…" It was a valid excuse, Old Man Winter was sniffing about the corner, but within the muggle it was just THAT. An excuse.
"…We are thusly privy that she had accepted a newly indoctrinated position with Hogwarts as Student Counselor…and…Housemistress of Gryffindor." The Headmaster beckoned the woman forth. "Please make her most welcome…"
The enchantress rose from her seat, her form nestled within those robes. Her hair was different than this morning. It…suited her. But when do they NOT suit her? It was a loose braid that had its tail end draped lazily over her shoulder. Fleur's head inclined gently.
"Oh my God, isn't that…?" hissed Susan.
The Gryffindor gave a singular nod, "Yes." Her voice had gone raspy and her attention rapt. Unexpectedly Fleur's gaze drifted towards the Muggle's vicinity. Hermione remained stationary her own eyes met the Veela's for the first time since that morning. And that very same mixed sensation blanketed the Muggle.
Confusion, Frustration, Defiance…and...
An impasse had been met within that time, so it felt for Hermione. She nodded towards Fleur in acknowledgement and in an instant was gifted with a ghosted smile. With that…the young teen was free from the Veela's complex gaze and willed with a new…perhaps even complex relationship with one Fleur DeLacour. What it would become, was left to be written. Hermione knew only, that in that instance both she and Fleur clicked.
"…The nerve of her! Hermione…will you be alright?" Susan's voice was riddled with concern. The history between the pair was outright legendary within the campus grounds, as expected – the Hogwarts brood, including Slytherin, stick to their own. And Fleur was no where near that moniker.
Hermione barely heard the Hufflepuff's protestation among the booming applause for Fleur but replied with a smile and said,
"I think…No…I know I'll be fine."
- - - -
"Did she take it?"
Susan had accidentally dropped her things as she exited the Hall. The clamor of yipping mouths had ceased and she was in charge of securing the hall for the remainder of the night. The Hufflepuff youth turned about and met the shrouded figure.
"You and I both knew she would have," stated Susan, "It's just how Hermione is." She paused, "I don't understand why you hold such contempt for her."
Lavender pulled her hood about her features and brusquely walked towards Susan. She knelt picking up a notebook and handed it over to the lanky Head Girl, "Let me ask you…why did you agree?"
She snatched the notebook from Lavender's hand. The latter smirked, "Exactly, we all have our reasons." Her eyes raked Susan's form, "You because you're a jealous twit," The brown haired youth froze, horrified at the accusation. Which…was true. The ever popular Hermione Granger – the Muggle never knew how good she had it even when she complained of the stupidest things.
"And I…because…"
Lavender paused, recalling the moment that she had slipped and told Hermione her darkest secret. The fear haunted her since then. Because Hermione was who she was and a part of the group of which she's a part of…there was a huge possibility of everyone finding out. Girls like her have the need to blather and because the student body thrives on rumor-mongering to define cliques, it was a matter of time. Lavender was just countering the onslaught.
"Because…I can damn well hate who I want to."
All's fair in…lust and war.
- - -
Hermione clopped her hand over the wide expanse of her mouth, managing to stifle another onset of a yawn.
"God, this is absolutely ridiculous…," As soon as her hand was freed from covering her mouth, the Muggle whisked her wand outward and murmured, "Wingardrium Leviosa."
The warm mug of hot chocolate carefully tittered from the grasp of her other hand and the Witch cast another incantation; the brew soon floated along with her at a leisurely pace. She rounded a corner and paused at the nearest stone windows; Mother Nature was certainly putting on a display this night. The rain began to assault the school at an angle, followed closely by its siblings - Thunder and Lightening. Hermione watched the weather reveling at the magnificence of what was happening and suddenly felt alone, this had been the first time she had a chance to watch the world move past her. Hermione felt that everything was leaving her behind. When had been the last time she and Ron actually spent time with one another? For the times they had…
It was filled with more bickering than naught.
She sighed. Their priorities had taken different paths. Yet…Neither spoke of separating.
Hermione certainly wouldn't dream of it.
But as suddenly as those thoughts crept in, they were replaced by the oddities that occurred throughout the day.
Fleur's appearance and the way they 'disagreed' – she scoffed in mild irritation yet…
Draco's attempt at civility – she rolled her eyes.
Ron's proclamation – she should have smiled but instead furrowed her brows in worry.
Fleur's glance in the assembly – she felt an instantaneous burning in the aftermath of the connection.
Hermione rubbed absently at her arms before continuing her duties for the night. Frivolous thoughts of fancy. Oh how she loved to oversimplify everything.
"But that's what you get for thinking for far more than one can suffer, 'Mione m'girl."
The Muggle reached up and cradled the still warm concoction and took a generous sip. Letting loose a content mewl, Hermione paused. The baby fine hairs that graced the nape of her neck stood on end. There was a presence. Considering the time, it wouldn't've been odd to see some of the upperclassmen breaking school curfew – all dependant on what moods that some were in. Hermione's had her fair shake at being rebellious.
She placed her mug back unto its lofty home before she proceeded down her designated monitoring area. Not to Hermione's surprise as she crossed into the wing that held the Library, there was a singular lantern lit within. On closer inspection, there was a cloaked figure pressed against one of the massive pillars just outside of the Library. From the demure way it moved and the way the figure's hands were dainty, yet animated Hermione ascertained it was a female. A female who wasn't alone. Scrutinizing her gaze, the Muggle could see the female was engrossed in a heated discussion.
More people must have been hidden in shadow.
"Excuse me…", Hermione's voice was clipped, yet grating due to the lateness of the hour.
The figure halted its actions then turned about to face the Muggle. Hermione's eyes took note of the crest sewn just above the girl's left breast and frowned a touch. "Of our own house no less? As Head Girl, you know very well I can't play favorites."
"Oh. I knew that," replied the cloaked girl. "You've always been a stickler for the rules…somewhat."
"Lavender…?"
"Ah…yeah, hi Hermione," she meekly replied. The cowl pooled about Lavender's shoulders as she met the Muggle's confused glance.
"If you knew the rules, Laven-"
"-Because! Well…you see, I was headed back towards the dorms with some friends," interjected the other Gryffindor girl, "Late night studying and all – you know how that goes, such fun."
Hermione's impatience began to show with the cross of her arms and an arc of her sculpted brow.
"And, we happened by here. A lantern was on. We were arguing just before you got here in fact, on whether or not to rat on these unscrupulous gits."
"We?" Hermione glanced past Lavender's form.
The girl then gasped, in effect shrugging off the previous askance posed by the Head Girl. The reaction elicited was so very well timed. Hermione already pushed beyond her threshold tossed her gaze into the Library…
Lavender bit the inside of her cheek to quell the undeniable pain that surged in her. Her pain though, couldn't have been as bad as what the Muggle was currently going through. Stealing a glance towards Hermione, a sated smirk painted over her lips.
Hermione felt her breathing quicken as her eyes blinked in rapid succession, unable to deny the saline that had pooled there.
Thunder and Lightening continued their chaotic symphony while within the comforts and warmth of the Library, two bodies continued to merge as one. They weren't fully dislodged from their clothes. It was unnecessary, skirts and zippers were easy to manipulate. Ron had Parvati pinned against a wall, angling his hips into the exotic female. Her head had been thrown back in euphoric bliss and his massive hand had grappled her wrists. Parvati's lips formed his name, calling it out with each piston into her before he stifled her cries with his lips.
Each piston lead to successive stabs tearing the Muggle inside out. She tore past Lavender who followed the escaping Muggle with her darkened eyes.
"I suppose…it hurt."
The Gryffindor puppet lobbed her gaze towards the darkened shadows, they pulsed alive. She understood that first blood had been drawn, culminating from extensive, and intricate plans, little effort was given on the sentient's behalf. The rest came naturally by human emotions – in the form of all seven sins: Envy, Wrath, Pride, Gluttony, Sloth, Lust and Greed..
And the majority of those sins had come to pass. The very primal needs of every human that ever evolved. With that base, the threads that bound will finally come asunder.
Lavender stood there, her shoulders shuddering from the immensity of what happened, what still was occurring and what should come.
She finally let her tears fall and the guilt seep in.
- - - -
And then came the morning after…It was selfish of her to do, but Fleur couldn't deny her body what it so desperately needed. And it needed sleep. A sleep that hadn't come easily. Her head ached and her body was worse for wear. Before the assembly, the Veela did what was ordered of her to do. But to no avail…Her empathic talents weren't sufficient. Something had blocked her innate ability.
The Order hadn't been pleased. Scratch that. Snape had been furious.
Her arm had been thrown over her eyes – a precautionary action. The sun when it decided to show, was merciless in this country. It was a comfort then that the rain hadn't subsided. The gentle smattering against her sweeping vaulted windows was a welcome call to wakefulness.
Fleur turned her head to regard her bedmate. Hermione's body had been in a fetal position at the beginning of the night, but subconsciously the younger woman had searched out for warmth that only flesh could provide. Ever the light sleeper, the Frenchwoman felt Hermione's touch beg for comfort.
For protection.
Fleur complied. Her arm snaked beneath the Muggle's head, but no farther than.
It was Hermione whom nestled her face at Fleur's shoulder, her arms though were tucked into herself and crossed alongside the French Witch's body. Before she was fully aware of herself, Fleur had gently lifted the curtain of the Muggle's hair from the youth's face. The teen's cheeks were tearstained this upset the enchantress far more than she would ever realize. She had a chance to question the youth, but coherency wasn't applicable that night and Fleur never pressed.
Hermione hadn't been the only visitor to the Counselor's wing. Gabrielle, unlike her sister was an early bird. She stood at Fleur's bedchamber opening for a good five minutes watching until…
"What are you doing," the remark held an underlying hint of derision. Fleur's attention was drawn towards her sister.
Slowly the elder woman untangled herself from the Muggle and slipped from the bed. Still clad in her silken attire the night before, Fleur hadn't been able to change into more appropriate attire much to the disappointment of Gabrielle. Passing her younger sister she beckoned the youth to follow her into the main living area.
"Well?", pressed Gabrielle as she trotted close behind.
Fleur twisted her hair into a haphazard bun and turned about to advance on the young woman. Then, on pressing a single digit to Gabby's lips she murmured,
"I thought I taught you respect, non?" her eyes flicked back towards her bedroom, "we still 'ave a guest. What's wrong with you…"
Gabrielle huffed, "It…just looked…weird." she pondered, "No. Wrong perhaps is a better word to use. I didn't like it."
Fleur chuckled giving a genteel wave of her hand upon the assorted kitchen utensils. They shuddered gently, gyrating into action at their mistress' bidding. A plethora of ingredients spilled from the pantry and refrigerator.
"And since when does a sleeping person look wrong?"
"When it's another female; no less being unabashedly forward in my sister's bed."
Slipping her nostalgic black rimmed glasses upon the bridge of her nose, Fleur grew quiet and she lowered her eyes towards the newly arrived edition of the Daily Prophet. It seemed that Fleur cannot trust all things of herself to Gabrielle, just yet.
It sounded like someone had voluntarily crashed into a window. Both sisters edged into the next room, finding a rather disheveled Muggle on all fours plucking a tea set that lay in ruin from the marble floor.
Gabrielle's face had colored instantaneously.
"Merde! That was from our-"
Hermione froze.
"It's time for your classes, isn't it," sniped Fleur, her eyes burrowed into her sister. Who immediately grew tight lipped. The enchantress softly intoned dissipating the anger of the youth, "Gabrielle, please."
The youth tossed her airy glance towards the Muggle and then back towards her older sister, whose eyes had traversed back to Hermione. There was something in Fleur's eyes that Gabrielle couldn't identify with and didn't like. Gratingly she edged out, "I'll see you at lunch, Fleur..."
With a defiant slam of the front door, Fleur could only afford a sigh. Her sister was becoming an ambiguity to the Veela. Something she would need to deal with sooner or later. But it was a given as both sisters had only been reunited the previous week before after a year and a half. People had the nasty tendency to grow…Fleur had hopped they didn't drift apart.
One failure at a time, Fleur…
Her eyes drifted towards the still knelt Muggle. With ease of grace Fleur lowered herself then had traveled her hands over that of the youth's.
The hands were warm, the same warmth that was sorely missed from the moment it left her in the first dusting of Morning-Light; she wanted it back. Hermione had awoken with a start in unfamiliar surroundings and a foreign bed, the coffee topped woman panicked; she gathered herself from the bed and made her way from the chamber. She heard the voices in the adjacent room, but hoped to make her escape without a person witting of her existence.
Damn her left footedness.
But feeling that heat that so comforted her last night returned by the simplest touch, Hermione's adrenaline was deflated; she wanted to cave into that warmth again and find that cover of safety she found within Fleur's presence.
…that quiet strength.
She resisted. Pity-seeking is not what Hermione should have been doing. She was strong enough to handle her own crisis. And to depend on someone was a personal tragedy. But…
What does one do, when a shoulder is freely offered?
Firmly, the Veela urged Hermione to her feet, "Breathe in," instructed the Frenchwoman.
Already on her feet, the Muggle looked unenthusiastically towards Fleur, but complied. A cacophony of smells hit her nostrils. Bacon was the predominant scent, accompanied by the strong brew of coffee. Her brows furrowed as the beckoning roused her empty belly awake. She looked away from Fleur embarrassed of herself.
But the Veela continued with her hospitality, non-plussed.
Nor did Fleur react to the audible salutation of Hermione's gut, but instead, she absently…unknowingly…naturally laced her fingers with the teen and tugged her towards the kitchen. Once there, the appointed Counselor drifted from the Muggle's side. Her fingers untwined from the Muggle's own.
The warmth disappeared once more, leaving Hermione empty. And this frightened her. But she didn't want to voice it. Else the fear will have a name and forever rule the muggle.
"I was not sure what you wanted," and motioned about with an inclination of her head, "So a little bit of everything was made."
Though her stomach spoke volumes, her heartache and mind won out in the classic battle of mind over matter. "I'm…I'm not as hungry as I thought I was. I'm sorry."
Fleur's back had been turned, and she paused in mid stir of her morning brew. She shrugged and murmured,
"Then-"
The Veela found her lips wanting to say we.
"-I will 'ave left-overs for the nex' few days, oui?"
No answer. Fleur knew patience would be her only key.
The woman turned about, letting the small of her back come to rest against the lip of her kitchen counter-top. Her Cerulean colored eyes affixed themselves on the teenager. The night brought a broken girl to her doorstep, in the middle of the same night the girl was nothing more than someone searching for something to cling on to be buoyed. This morning, Hermione Granger became someone that Fleur found herself wanting to be the person to help her through what haze suddenly blanketed the once determined Head Girl.
Hermione sat at a little nook, drawing her knees towards her chest. Her head came to rest against the rain-water streaked pane of a kitchen window. The teenager's gaze pinioned on what she knew were students en route towards their fist classes of the morning, they were nothing more than blurbs of drab colors smeared on an artist's canvass.
She hated impressionism anyway.
As she turned away from the surreal sight, Hermione heard the wooden slats of the nook she sat upon, give way. There the Veela sat, just mere inches from her. The woman's hand was extended holding aloft a steaming mug of…something. She looked to Fleur with wary eyes and sighed.
"I told you-"
"-you were not 'ungry…," completed Fleur, "An' thiz, is a drink. So, let us pretend that I am a good 'ostess and you an accommodating guest, oui?" The Veela gently coasted the mug once more towards Hermione.
The Muggle swallowed Fleur's words and realized how seemingly ungrateful she had been, despite considering what had occurred just a few hours before. Quietly, she accepted the mug and inadvertently took a healthy whiff. It wasn't the repugnant stench of coffee that she had been expecting, but instead was the enveloping comfort of hot cocoa.
"Made with milk, not water," commented Fleur.
Hermione frowned, "I don't want to go back to sleep."
The Veela had been entranced with watching the girl's reaction, she couldn't help it even if she had the mind to. Fleur reached out, tucking Hermione's errant wavy bangs from the teenager's face. Gently…Instinctively, the she cupped the young woman's cheek causing Hermione to turn her deep brown eyes towards those immaculate Cerulean storms.
So much tumult.
"Warm milk iz a natural sedative, m'lle Granger. The most it will do, iz calm you."
Hesitantly, Fleur forced herself to break contact. She needed to. Regaining her composure the still robed Veela rose from the convenient close-quarter ledge. She made her way towards the kitchen island, plucking a piece of toast from the already set dishes of breakfast. Hermione watched her move, she felt an overwhelming panic.
Please don't leave me now.
"Where…"
Fleur halted, casting a glance over her shoulder and she paused in mid chew.
"What…I meant to ask was, if you're leaving." questioned Hermione, barely managing to stifle the croak of dread clinging at the back of her throat.
Sympathy coursed in the Veela's form. The threads of a crutch were beginning to build. Fleur…fighting through a strain of emotions and duty, needed to put a stop to it. She was here for one reason and only that reason. This…This was becoming an unexpected hiccup.
"Oui. I 'ave work, m'lle Granger," Fleur replied tenderly.
Her hands gripped the mug nervously having forgotten exactly where she was, "Oh. Right, right…And I've classes." Hermione glanced at her reflection cast on the tawny surface of her drink and gave an uneasy chuckle, causing the liquid to ripple and distort her twin in the mug. She inwardly realized just how pathetic she must be looking right now. And of all people…it had to be in front of Fleur.
Composed…Strong willed…
Perfect...
Overwhelmingly…gentle. Surprisingly gentle.
"…You're allowed to miss a day, you know."
Her gaze hadn't wavered from Fleur but the woman's words snapped her back to her reality. Hermione took a deep lungful of air, followed by a healthy nip of the warm cocoa. It immediately surged through her.
"It's…it's fine. I'm fine, I've tests to take anyway," she set the cocoa aside, "I'll be out of your hair."
Fleur gave a slight bob of her head one that came all too…hesitantly. The kind of pain that veiled the youth's eyes was too difficult to dismiss let alone be forgotten. She admired Hermione for her strength, but had come to respect her more for letting the walls crumble.
"Fleur…?"
Hermione tasted the Veela's name over her tongue for the first time, and her insides involuntarily reacted, it confused the normally straight and narrow Muggle.
"Would you think me ill if…if I came by again," Hermione quickly tacked on, "Just…to talk, sometimes."
At the simplistic request…the HINT of an askance, the enchantress had become the enchanted. The proud youth allowed a breadth of her vulnerability to be shown. That she wasn't as formidable as her masks had made her out to be. A faint smile coursed over the full of the Veela's lips..
"Is that how you English ask for 'elp from we French…?", lightly prodded Fleur.
"If only to have you French feel better about yourselves," smartly replied Hermione, thankful for the attempt at optimism, but quietly she lowered her head and nodded,
"Yes…I'm…I'm asking for your help."
The still-quiet was enough to cut with a dull blade, but the silence was a comfortable blanket, not intrusive in any fashion. As her eyes shifted towards her cobblestone kitchen floor, the Veela made note of the intermittent scores of lines of light that wedged between the minute crevices that were provided by the uneven surface. They moved in natural fashion across the stone, laying themselves across any surface they had caressed. Glancing past Hermione, Fleur motioned with an inclination of her head. Spikes of sunlight broke through the doldrums of the English skies.
"It seems…the rain 'as stopped."
She had followed the imperial beauty's gaze, "I would never have thought it would…," somberly confessed Hermione.
"All it takes, is time."
The teen inhaled deeply, rolling Fleur's words in her mind. Yes, time would make things heal…and right…But, could Hermione afford to wait? Could she work through the betrayals? Her pain?
"Thank you," the muggle heard herself murmur, continuing stalwartly, "If there is anything I could do for you…I could give you," she had paused, feeling the weight of Fleur's gaze on her, "I would do it, in less than a heartbeat. Please know that."
Fleur gave an ever slight cant of her head in acknowledgement towards Hermione's sincere prose, then quietly padded her way from the kitchenette. She made it finally into her private sanctuary, the bed was still in a shamble. It was only a few hours ago the Fleur felt the first thumps of her heart. So it did beat. She be damned if Bill Weasley's threat ever came to fruition….but…
Her brows furrowed in disquiet at the teen's words. Only the company of a bittersweet thought now haunted her inner mind.
You can't give me what you don't have.
- - - -
a/n: I appreciate all the comments/suggestions…I promise, somewhere along the lines this will get better. R/R, give a woman a nice ego boost ;)