Eight.
Sadness Part I
-Enigma-
He licked his fingers and pressed them atop his naturally wavy head. Yet one strand refused to tame. Muttering under his breath, the wizard moved to grab a hairbrush from his nightstand.
But a young man, whose height was barely passing Neville's nose, blocked his pathway. Suddenly, the dormitory room seemed a mite small. Neville's eyes regarded a rather impish looking smirk just across his way.
"So? Whussit like"?
"What"?
Seamus face-faulted. With a quick jab, he socked Neville on his right shoulder, hoping to coax an explanation. The latter winced.
Realizing the point of this exchange Neville answered, "It's not like she an' I…y'know". He rubbed at the now tender spot and glowered at his roommate, "Get off it Seamus – I jus' work wit' er".
"Issat why you're getting' all proper-like for 'er?"
Neville pushed past Seamus reply withstanding.
"Look, all's I'm sayin' is y'are the closest one to 'er s'far". Seamus gave a vigorous rub at his neatly shorn head, "Least since 'Ermione Granger, so it's natural to wanna know what it's like bein' 'round 'er, and if… y'know, if she's really that way or can she like…y'know swing back".
Neville fought an insane urge to give Seamus Finnegan the 'lay off the subject' speech. In truth… he had hoped for the same. Since the first day she had summoned for him, as days passed, the more he came to respect the woman beyond the ethereal aura.
She was sharp yet fun, meticulous yet impish and above all challenging to crack. But he never pushed. Neville assumed that was one of the main reasons he was allowed closer. The other was tucked deep in the recesses of his coat pocket.
"I've got t'go, she's been expectin' me…" Neville glanced at the room's clock, "Crikey! Twenty minnits ago!"
Seamus tailed Neville before he left the dorm, calling after him.
"Wait…wait…wait, I have te know…why'd'you reckon…I mean… Geez Nev, I mean…You?" There really was no gentle way to put it. And it was a question begging to be asked. After all, Neville Longbottom was a guy, who thrilled at collecting fungus!
Neville paused as his muscle memory kicked in automatically pulling the door towards him. He then looked back to his roommate.
"I suppose, 'cause she likes 'earing 'bout my latest find in plant species".
--
With the looming dance, sponsored by the school, organized by Fleur DeLacour – the popular Counselor of the school – excitement took hold of everyone. Providing the necessary distraction for the turn of events that shook Hogwarts.
Not that the student body paid any attention, or even showed interest in caring. As far as each student had been concerned, his or her own problems out weighed everyone else's.
Fanciful décor made from pine-scented wreaths and fairy dust appeared all over the school. Even Filch was seduced into the Yuletide spirit, though he would never admit to such a kafuffle. Seeded in Gryffindor was no different. Effervescent colors lit the nook and cranny of the common room while students who opted to stay from Hogsmeade, loafed near the hearth.
The young ones, barely hitting the twelve-year-old mark sat at the far side of the room, with gaping maws. They giggled conspiratorially amongst themselves pointing towards the elder's 'play areas'. That drew the attentions of a few older Gryffindors. There were A few that still a few students that held some form of sanity and decency. Of course they would have been called the 'left-overs' that no one dared to associate with. One particular Gryffindor tromped towards the upper tiers – the clique, who was also present in the common room…
The wizard stopped short before the decadent group, quickly turning his eyes from the much-too-adult display. Searching for someone with sense, his attention was drawn to one who often showed a fiery compassion to her fellow classmates.
"Gin – could you tell 'em te stop?"
The ivory skinned teen, lazily lobbed her gaze to the couple in question then darted them back on to Colin Creevey. The movement alone caused Ginny to pause in her current duty – waxing the handle of her Quidditch ride.
"You interrupted me to tell me that, Colin"? She gaped rubbing the bridge of her brow in aggravation and shot to her feet, "I'm –busy- Creevey. Do it yourself if it bothers you s'much."
Colin whimpered in desperation, "There're kids in'ere for cryin' out loud"!
"Then have them turn towards th'wall, Col", casually offered Harry. His eyes stayed focused on the pair; obviously he was enthralled by the display. "So let's not bother the love-birds, yeah?" he grinned widely. Colin surmised that it was a rather stupid looking grin at that. The youth couldn't believe he idolized this person. Defeated, Colin slunk back towards his defined corner for existence – out of their view.
But then a sharp clop of hands intermittently slapping together rung about the room, soon coupled with the crisp announcement by a heavy lilt of Irish-served-sarcasm, "Oye, Weasley yuir suckin' 'er lungs out!"
That in effect, destroyed the ambiance.
Grudgingly Ron peeled himself from off his companion, swallowing deep breaths. In the background, as Neville passed the group he made good note of Ron's features. He was flustered and irritated by Seamus' disturbance and quip. Whoever the girl of the month was must have found it equally as frustrating. Neville shook his head in disappointment.
Hermione deserves bett-Neville's mind skidded to a stand still in mid-thought. For in tandem, Ron's companion pulled herself from the sofa, running her thumb over her lips. She pulled the tail end of her hair over her shoulder and offered a fingered wave towards Seamus and catching Neville's eye. She turned away.
"Yeah well Finny, y'got loads to learn about women", remarked Ron, "Count 'Mione as one o'em that likes it rough".
"Seriously, I doubt that anyone would want to hear about my sexual prowess", murmured Hermione, her insides grimaced. Yet her outside remained an austere perfection.
"Yeah, sure they don't. That's why they keep askin' about how much of a wildcat y'are in bed, love", sarcastically replied Ron.
Hermione's practiced plastic smile slipped easily over her lips.
The little group shared a genial laugh at Ron's prose, sans Ginny, before it was cut short by the din of annoyed voices. As the collective looked towards the source, they found the clumsy wizard netted in a mess of arms and legs. Hermione scrutinized her gaze on the Neville, who finally managed to wrestle his way out of the common room.
With an odd tone clinging to her words, Hermione commented aloud, "…Is he off to see the good Counselor again".
Ginny lifted her head and rested her curious gaze on her friend.
Seamus had ripped open a sucker and shoved the candied morsel into his mouth, unfortunately his saliva sputtered as he spoke. "yeth, he've been goo'in ver f'th path foo weekf".
"That's just gross, Seamus".
He grinned toothily and wiped the excess fluid with the back of his shirtsleeve.
"Can someone bloody translate that?" Hermione pulled the hem of her skirt down, but it was all for naught as Ron yanked her towards him, raping her mouth with his tongue. Hermione whimpered her objection; it only enticed Ron more.
"He just said", began Ginny quietly – causing a brief pause to rest between the couple. Catching her breath, Hermione gave a grateful nod to Ginny. With her hands firmly planted on Ron's chest, Hermione shoved herself upright. Ron rolled his eyes and loosed a growl. The Muggle motioned for the Auburn haired girl to continue.
"…That Neville's been quite the attendant for Counselor DeLacour – chalking up a few weeks worth of visits." The Chaser ran a lithe hand along the polished handle of her broom finding a decent divan to loaf on. Thinking of Hermione's curious statement, she asked simply, "Why"?
Charitably, young witch's lips flickered with a fleeting ghost of a smile, "Just that, they've gotten on rather well. Haven't they"?
Ron chirruped, "Only reason a bloke like 'im going back again an' again like tha' means he's gettin' snogged like mad".
"Just like you innit? You perverse asshole", spat Ginny. "There's more t'life than putting sex on a pedestal, I'm sure the counselor wouldn't bag a school-boy – it would go against her grain".
"Shu'up y'prudish slag, I weren't talkin' t'you – Fleur'd snog anythin' that touches her right – ask m'brother; 'Arry y'gotta keep your bitch's mouth occupied".
Seamus coughed. Incidentally it sounded like a stifled laugh. That earned him a spiteful glare from Ginny.
Harry lifted his hands to either side of him, "Good on you mate, but I'm not getting in this one".
The bantering slipped into indiscernible sounds that her mind couldn't or didn't want to comprehend. At the first sign of inattention Hermione liberated herself from the group. She quietly made her way from the couch and found solace by a window that was situated away from the glare of eyes.
The muggle stared out and felt her gaze drift towards the familiar - onto a lonely wing so far below. The wing she knew so well. Hermione's control wavered when her heart quickened as its doorway opened. There, in the pale afternoon light the Counselor stood. A flash of her smile came with the sudden appearance of a student, a friend. Neville Longbottom was welcomed into Fleur's graces with a simple motion into the wing.
The Head Girl felt an instant burn erupt in her – jealousy that she had no right to feel. It was kept at bay enough to tender out a question to someone that she knew who had followed her.
"What do you suppose they do…"?
Hermione gave a quick side-glance; her feeling of someone invading her privacy was confirmed.
Ginny would have been content with being a silent pillar – just to be near the muggle. But at her friend's hidden plea, she felt the need to respond. Reluctantly she replied,
"I don't know."
Hermione scoffed. Her forehead pressed to the glass. With each breath, the heat blanketed the see-through surface. It created a damp fog. Her fingers moved on their own will. Ginny watched as the idle patterns began to form a name. F…L…E… Quickly and angrily, Hermione smudged the letters from existence.
"Have I gone insane"?
"It's a possibility but you were always high-strung", Ginny was careful with this subject, as far as she knew; it had always been something off limits to talk about. But these little inklings were too much to resist for long, "D'you think you can talk about it"?
The door to the wing had shut. Hermione turned her eyes to her friend.
"I'm not a-a… I'm not Lesbian – if that's what you're inferring", Hermione emphatically stated.
Ginny too, turned her gaze towards the wing that housed Fleur.
"No…no I'm not. I think you established that, the night you and he…"
"-Well… wasn't it bloody time, anyway"?
"I hadn't thought there was a set period for that". Ginny flicked her gaze back to her friend when nothing interesting happened at the wing.
Hermione crossed her arms and stared blankly at Ginny, "Right, you all but jumped in on the action, as I recall."
"Because it was the right time and the right person."
A scoff coupled with a deadpan statement was delivered, "really".
Ginny nodded and stole a look at Harry, "The thing about giving yourself to someone, is that you don't regret it. And to be honest…I never have". Her tone was of a found remembrance and homage to a thing that wasn't given room to spread its wings.
Astounded Hermione asked, "Then why aren't you and he…"
"Together"? The Chaser smiled and winked, "I like the 'game' of making him suffer too much", then added quietly, "I love him. But…I think I realized I'm not 'in love' with him".
Hermione looked at Ginny oddly. The latter met the former's eyes in a leveled, shared gaze. But the message wasn't conveyed properly – short of a voiced confession, really. Defeated, Ginny shook her head and gave a pat to the Muggle's arm. "It'll make sense soon".
As the Auburn haired witch moved away, Hermione called out, "You haven't asked me if I…"
Ginny regarded the Head Girl for a time, "Do you need to hear it… Do you need to hear yourself say it"?
She smiled, Ginny understood. So Hermione nodded.
"Alright then… do you regret it"?
The swiftness applied to her reply surprised the Muggle. Her lips easily formed the words while her voice spoke with conviction. "Yes… And it's bothered me since".
Barely a grace of a smile was given in kind, as Ginny tendered out, "Then oughtn't you do something to fix that"?
--
With his hands stuffed into his coat pockets, Neville toyed with the contents of a pouch that was nestled safely there. Rocking on his heels he glanced around the outskirts of the wing.
The door groaned open and framed within the doorway was the platinum haired Counselor and a teen whose face was cupped between Fleur's hands. After their little exchange of soft-spoken words, the student bound past him, wiping her eyes and failing to hide the slew of sniffles his ears had caught. Neville watched the girl for a few minutes before returning his glance towards the entryway.
"Another satisfied customer", Fleur murmured with a weak smile as she pressed herself against the plane of the door. A softly offered, "Come in M'sieur Longbottom", drew him immediately into the warmth of the abode.
She led the way once more, walking through the halls. They made their way past their usual meeting place. Puzzled by that, Neville cleared his throat. Fleur replied with an errant wave of her hand over her slender shoulder, silencing him.
"I am about to 'ave an early supper, join me".
"I… er… o-o'course". Quickly the teen drew a hand from the warmth of his coat pocket and cupped it before his face, breathing into it checking if his breath was rank.
Fleur rounded a corner leading to an immaculate kitchenette. Cupping her hand aloft, a flute filled with a red tinted concoction drifted to her. As it nestled in her grasp, the Frenchwoman's tired eyes were pulled to her guest.
Her cool eyes seemed grayer than he recalled and her voice, decibels lower, was husky. "Ms DeLacour – are you alright?"
She sipped from her flute and smiled softly.
Neville rubbed the back of his already reddened neck, "Reckon I asked a dumb question".
Fleur moved towards the stove and began ladling what seemed to be soup, into two bowls. It was then that Neville realized, her hands and no quick flick of her wand made this feast. He felt the onset of an awe inspired smile creep on his face. But as she turned about, Neville ducked his head.
"I 'ope you don' mind curry, Neville…"
His insides gave a start at the sound of his first name –
"-But az you noted, I am a little under the weather and spice is always a remedy to sweat out the toxinz". She settled the bowl in front of him and proceeded to say, "Despite the spice, I still need aid. So I understand if you think me crass – But do you 'ave them m'sieur"?
Her eyes implored him silently; Neville quickly nodded and pulled the meager pouch from his coat.
"All the 'erbs you requested, as promised".
She gave a relieved sigh. With a shaking hand, Fleur nipped the pouch from the counter.
He smiled broadly as if he were rewarded with something grand. Taking up a spoon and a freshly sliced piece of bread, Neville helped himself to the steaming meal. When it touched his palette he couldn't stop himself from letting loose a groan of satisfaction. The spices swirled freely in his mouth then shimmied its way down his throat.
Neville saw Fleur station herself at her stove once more, this time, pouring the contents of the pouch into a small cauldron.
"Is…Is it because you're a Veela"? Neville swallowed, he crossed the invisible line of 'don't ask'. Quickly he began to stammer his apologies, "Sorry…I mea– Christ Ms DeLacour…" his thick digits massaged his scalp as his voice suddenly changed to a whisper, "…y'can screw a guy up somethin' good".
Fleur looked to Neville questioningly before offering, "Ms. DeLacour is my mother'z name, Neville; I think we went through this already…? Or am I truly that old"?
"A-ah… oh yeah. Not that you're aged ma'am. I mean-!"
She didn't laugh but it showed within her eyes as she looked to him.
"But to answer your question… Mm, oui. Every time I exert myself – a little more of me, fails", she carefully crafted her statement, adding, "The 'erbs 'elp to mend those parts."
Dipping his head towards the bowl, Neville lowered his eyes to the curry's surface. His memory recalled a few other times where students who had 'issues' sought Fleur out and had emerged from the Counselor's wing… all for the better. It never crossed his mind that more than just talking to the Counselor was being done.
That would explain why she looks drained… But why would she have to use her power at all…His eyes shut tight, it was too hard to think; this really wasn't his forte.
"The 'erbs are gettin' 'ard t'come by, F-fleur", Neville flushed out, "But as I 'ear – Professor Snape, he's got a whole closet o'what y'need".
"I know".
"Per'aps-"
"No". Fleur steadily stirred the contents of the pouch into the cauldron, "Doing 'tricks' for a simple trade is something I will not sacrifice myself for".
"Huh?"
The ladle dipped into the cauldron once more, but as it rose this time about, it contained a thick mass of onyx. Fleur furrowed her brows together, staring at the glob. With a tired chuckle she answered:
"It means spreading my legs iz not an option any longer. Especially, with M'sieur Snape".
A hollow cough exploded from his chest – whether it was induced by the Cayenne laced in the curry or Fleur's quip, Neville didn't know how to handle the matter.
"Mes excuses à vous, Neville. My lips move faster than my brain".
In the midst of lapping up noisily at a glass of water, Neville gave a shake of his head and smiled lopsidedly. He returned to watching her. She had by this time, tipped a vial into the cauldron. It was filled by the blackish tar.
Fleur sighed and held it aloft, "To your health".
He lifted of what remained of his glass, "Y'mean to ours, right"?
"If I made this potion right, oui", kittenishly remarked the Frenchwoman.
"Y'pardon me if I don' laugh, ma'am"
"Touche", Fleur pressed the rim of the vial against her bottom lip and reluctantly tipped the still steaming contents down her gullet.
Suppressing a shudder, the silver haired witch began feeling the familiar surge of adrenaline thumping through her veins. Her blurred vision slowly came into focus, but the base of her head, retained the dull stab of a headache.
After a few tense seconds, of which notably found Neville off his seat, the wizard saw a considerable change root into the woman. Though not by much, he immediately drew his form alongside the Counselor, tucking an arm about her waist.
"It's takin' longer t'kick in…" Neville voiced in concern. Reflexively as the wizard aimed to steady her, his arm grew taut and in effect, drew the slightly taller counselor, closer.
Her face turned towards Neville while her hand coasted the length of his arm. From the close proximity, he could feel the heat of every breath she took. This was Fleur DeLacour – in his arms; not pulling back. It was a sign, wasn't it?
A chance.
Neville felt his head reach forward.
"…Stop… Neville, I…"
Loosening his arm from about her waist, Neville quickly pulled away, prattling non-sensically, "You were there, I just… so close, I couldn't… I mean, I know you're not akin te men; which I'm sure 'Ermione Granger can attest to, but…well not really…Bill Weasley's I'm sure's got somethin' te say abou' that…Bloddy 'ell…I just…"
"-M'elle Granger"? Fleur managed to sneak in, as Neville took a breath.
"well…t'wasn't a, I mean – Counselor, y've got t'ave known what was bein' said?"
"In passing, it was never a main concern for me…" she murmured in reply, finding comfort with her arms wrapped about her mid-section. "But since we are on the topic, how is she? The last we spoke", Fleur paused, "M'elle Granger was under extreme duress".
"I dunno – Alright, I assume seein' how she's summat been abouts with Ron Weasley lately".
She nodded curtly before proceeding to ask, "And my sister…"? Fleur hated to have thrown these matters to the young wizard, but he had proven to be of stolid make and wanted to help her anyway he could; the corruption of Hogwarts through petty emotions had barely scratched the innocence of his stature. Dimwitted, Neville was not. She had no clue though, why some were being heavily toyed with while others…were free.
"She's b'come a toast of a certain crowd, always surrounded by 'er group. Does she not visit you? I mean, I guess your work makes it difficult".
Fleur acquiesced with a stiff nod accompanied with a whispered prose, meant as a plea for a pitying ear. "I 'ave not been a good sister. One of the many sins I 'ave not been absolved for."
The unheard prose glanced off her current companion…Neville lowered his eyes, to focus upon his wrestling hands, "Jus' want'say – I got no clue what came over me… I jus'… You were there".
Fleur moved closer to Neville, slowly extending her hand towards his bent head. Her fingers wove through the thick of his bangs, "Under the circumstances, who knows what may 'ave 'appened. But…"
Oh how he loved how he felt with her…
"I know, I know… I'm young for one… and-"
"-I cannot bring myself to, at all", interjected Fleur.
He stared at her incredulously, "I can't reckon why, you've got t'be a helluva kisser".
Fleur chuckled and managed to lift Neville's chin with the plane of her index finger, until their eyes met, "Merci, m'sieur Longbottom for the vote in confidence".
He smiled nervously but that soon faded. "Can I ask why"?
"Because…", quietly began Fleur, "it would 'urt me should I ever".
She watched the confusion color Neville's face and thought it adorable. "An explanation for another time – A more pressing matter is at hand…"
With that, the witch summoned the advertisement posters drawn up for the Yuletide dance. She handed them towards her shy committee member, "We all need something to be happy about".
--
Layer on layer of pristine white dusted the earth. It heralded the death of the old year. While within the snowed-upon compound, the Great Hall was transformed into a massive wonderland of dreams. Inside, a celebration was in full bloom.
A collective mass of bodies clogged the veins leading towards the hub of the Hall, all dressed in their casual best waiting for the doors to open. Unlike the Yule Ball, this dance did not coincide with the Tri-Wizard tourney. Nor did it demand formal attire. As its posters announced, this was just a celebration for the end of exams.
But it couldn't've happened at a better time…
As the doors bellowed its aged welcome, the lucky few that trickled in first cast their eyes on the most incredible spell-casting. Inside was comfortable, yet cool. Each breath the students took became visible as they exhaled. Crystalline sculptures of the founding fathers and mothers of Hogwarts dressed the nooks. While in the middle of the room an immaculately carved shield was standing in silent testimony to the school. Each House crest was carefully reproduced in the shield.
Overhead instruments hung in mid air giving aid to the ambiance, by stringing out melodious gentle tunes. The ceiling shifted into the never-ending winter sky; cherubic beings would whisk in, sprinkling particles of ice that transformed to flurries among the populace.
The handpicked committee that worked along side Fleur scurried amongst the student body offering ice skates for 'just in case' purposes. As soon some found out when the floor became semi slick. But not as iced-over as the main dance-floor.
Tucked possessively at Ron's side, Hermione set foot into the Hall. She was dressed in semi casual attire, form-fitting jeans and a light-colored Kashmir-esque sweater top. A gentle, magical wind blew through the hall, stirring her loosed hair about her face. With her hand easing from Ron's arm, she attempted to tame her locks.
"Woah". Ginny rounded about the group, entering the Hall last. "This is literally…very cool".
Hermione smiled, "They've certainly outdone themselves". Her eyes swept through the immense hold. Hoping for just one glimpse.
Ron hooked a finger in one of Hermione's belt loops on her jeans and pulled her back whispering into her exposed ear, "Not too far, eh"?
She hesitantly nodded.
"M'sieur Weasley…"
The Muggle's insides twisted as her head dizzied from the assault of so few words.
"…You cannot 'ope to glue yourself to M'elle Granger all night, non"?
Hermione's eyes listed closed for a moment, embracing the comforting lilt of the Frenchwoman's voice.
"If it'll keep wandering eyes 'n 'ands offa 'er, yeah…" he replied in a grunt. It didn't stop Ron from raking his eyes over the Headmistress, alternating his gaze between Fleur and Hermione. "I 'ave t'say, Counselor, you are lookin' extremely…luscious this evenin'".
Hermione heard the lust-crave slipping into Ron's voice - heavy with implications. When Fleur rounded to the fore, the muggle could see why the inference was heavy in Ron's reaction.
She moved with assured confidence, perfumed with grace and elegance. Tonight was nothing less than she expected of the French Witch. Fleur's hair was pulled into a haphazard bun, allowing for a few strands to dust about her bared shoulders, which were immediately covered, by a draped silken scarf. As if echoing the peoples of India, Fleur's body was wrapped within an ice colored Shalwar Kamese brandishing her toned mid-rift; her legs were barely hidden under the length-wise skirt she sported, the only hint of flesh was the enticing slit that ended mid thigh.
This was the vision she was granted with and this was the very same that stole Hermione Granger's breath.
"I could have sworn the posters read 'casual attire'…," questioned Ginny. Thusly, tugged the Head Girl from the headspace she dwelled within. Dazed, she glanced towards the red head and received a wink – but the Muggle wasn't consoled.
"A girl likes to look good every now and again… No crime, oui"? With a slight smile and a tilt of her head, she unabashedly stole a look upon Hermione, "Unless it offends…or annoys".
Hermione shook her head, before finally finding her voice and offering brokenly, "I… think you look… beautiful".
Ron arched his brow, scrutinizing Hermione as Ginny failed to hide her smirk and Fleur did as she did best, replying in that arrogant manner:
"But of course," her eyes shifted swiftly, never remaining on Hermione for long. Thankfully and on queue, Neville appeared with ice-skates in tow he handed the pairs off to all present, "Bienvenue à la danse, and enjoy your night. excusez-moi". Her feet carried her as quickly as they could from the awkward situation and Neville hurried after her.
Hermione glanced towards Neville and only managed to meet his gaze for a brief moment. Guilt, shame and sorrow were conveyed in that fleeting span.
"Someone's definitely pussy-whipped," quipped Ron.
"Ron…get off it, Neville's a good guy".
"Tha' a fact?" He turned to Hermione and said, "From th'way you were lookin' at him, love, I'd say he you'd wanted t'ring 'is neck. Why is tha'?"
The muggle born teen laughed mirthlessly, pulling upon the hidden well of charm that resided in her, "Less talk, more play. How about you and the boys rustle up some drinks… I promise to give you a reward on your return…"
Ron stared at her and nodded amicably. Rounding up the rest of the motley crew, the boys headed towards the wet bar hosting the drinks.
"That was…"
"Deliberately vile?"
Ginny stymied her laugh. On seeing Luna waving from a distance, she grabbed Hermione by the wrist, tugging her along, "I thought it was rather smooth of you actually…Now c'mon Luna's holding our table." Ginny sideglanced her friend and teased after sometime, "She looked… good…I'm surprised you're even walking straight."
"H-how could you even SUGGEST…?"
"Lookit yourself, 'Mione…She's got you all bunched up and aching inside!"
Hermione shot daggers at Ginny, who only waved errantly at the muggle.
"As much as…," Ginny whirled about, taking Hermione's hands into her own, "…I love you," the chaser paused to allow the words spoken sink in, when they didn't, she continued, "…and adore you, you can be utterly DENSE – You've just started playing this 'game'; Fleur DeLacour has played it since per'aps, I dunno… her BIRTH!"
Hermione lolled her head backward and insipidly replied, "Game? THIS? Toying with me?"
Ginny loosened her hands and gave a genial shrug before taking a few more steps towards their table.
"If that…that woman wants a game… She'll bloody well regret messing with me…"
But even before she could utter her disagreement, the Muggle slipped into the mass of bodies. Ginny smacked her forehead with the butt of her palm. Then a gentle pressure of a hand upon her shoulder was felt pulling her out of her reverie.3
"Did you get it?" innocently questioned Luna.
"What?"
"The Cookle that was buzzing about your head, is it smashed?"
Ginny sigh exasperatedly. Another one of the girl's blasted mis-conceptions, "Luna, really I don'-"
Luna's slender index finger gently pressed against Ginny's lips – effectively silencing the taller teenager. Her doe-shaped eyes regarded her friend in quiet. Slowly, the same finger trailed over the contour of Ginny's lips. Luna smiled.
"You've seriously got to learn how to take a little joke, Ginny." Luna walked backward a toddle and let her blonde locks drape over her shoulder as her head canted, "Can I entice you to join me for a drink?"
At a loss for words… Ginny Weasley nodded slowly.
--
"Give it 'ere Dean."
"Harry, I think that one's got enough innit!"
The scarred young man, laughed, "Enough is never enough. Jus' a bit more, ey?"
"Jus' wotch out for them 'Ead boys an' girls," Ron then gave a mocking smack to his head, "Oh 'ey…I'm one!"
They shared a laugh, only to have it interrupted by Hermione's presence. She eyed the group cautiously, but her mind at this point was so linear that even if a rock hit her, it wouldn't register. The muggle had looped her arms about Ron's shoulders carefully and methodically began to whisper in his ear. All the while gently nipping at his lobe.
Her voice was raspy, with a breathy sigh as she requested: "Ron… Dance with me."
Too much to resist, Ron nodded listlessly, "Gimme a sec love – lemme get us those drinks, ey?"
"If y'can't spare the time Weaslebee even for your lady-friend, let someone who's able to, care for her… and her needs."
Draco Malfoy had a lascivious underlying smile, etched on his near-perfect features. He stood behind the pair, clad in his signature, dapper black suit. Draco's hair was uncharacteristically worn long, just ending at the nape of his neck.
"Says you mate," Ron boomed back, "Or do I need t'introduce your face t'my fist again?"
Hermione quickly stepped between the towering boys. Despite the brewing of a storm, the dance continued. Intermittently, eyes speared their way, including hers. Fleur was across the hall, pristine as the sculptures that flanked her – watching Hermione's every move.
Malice was never inherent in the Muggle. Weaving a web of jealousy though…
"Boys, it IS the holidays… So let's us all…get in the sharing mood." Hermione grabbed both their hands maneuvering towards the outskirts of the floor, where footing was still assured.
Lopsided smirks traversed over Draco's and Ron's lips; and with an inaugural swig of the glass flute Ron carried… he poured the contents into Hermione's partially opened mouth.
So began the night…
--
At the third song, she realized she needed to stop. It was asinine to keep on. Fleur finally tore her eyes from the dance floor. But a nagging sensation whispered at the back of her mind, this whole scene felt amiss. She would have liked to believe it was nothing more than teenaged hormones…
"Merry…whatever the proper holiday is."
Fleur turned about pressing the small of her back against the frosted banister. Her cerulean gaze was met with a set identical to hers.
The teen approached out of nowhere it seemed, placing both her hands at Fleur's sides. She planted them on the railway as she smiled towards the same heightened Veela.
"You are positively radiant."
"Where have you been…"
"Ohhh… so you DID miss me. I didn't think you'd notice." Gabrielle flicked her eyes towards the floor then back to Fleur. "Seeing how you were so 'busy' and all."
"Stop avoiding the question."
Gabrielle pulled back, only enough to coast her hand over the length of her sister's arm. She cupped the elder woman's neck and murmured, "Give us a kiss first."
"You're sick," replied Fleur softly.
"Then play nurse to my patient," cheekily insinuated Gabrielle.
The elder DeLacour pushed from her sister, "Did you do it? Because members of the Order have suggested…"
"-I…don't know what you're getting at." It was an earnest reply.
Fleur furrowed her brows and glanced towards her sister. Her beloved younger sister. And the one person, she couldn't read. Fleur's powers were cancelled when it dealt with blood relations.
"Yes. I –was- Lavender's attendant, yes I was there that night…how could you even…Fleur…we're blood!" The hurt was there hugging close to Gabrielle's words.
Guiltily, Fleur averted her eyes. The conversation she had with Tonks not more than a few days, had a valid point, everything fit… Everything pointed to her sister.
From the edge of the balcony, a soft clearing of someone's throat was heard. Both sisters glanced to the source. Neville squirreled his way from the curtains.
"I-I'm sorry for the intrusion. But I think we've centered in on wha's wrong 'ere. Ah, we need your 'elp Counselor."
With a nod afforded towards the wizard, Fleur locked her eyes on the younger DeLacour. Easing her way to her, she cupped her sister's face between her cool hands and pressed her lips to Gabrielle's forehead. "Come to my wing tonight. We need to talk."
After Fleur descended to the lower level. Gabrielle remained for a bit longer upon the balcony, her back pressed to the nearest wall. Her head tilted backward and her eyes stared into the endless magic induced skyline. She knew where and to whom her sister was going to. Silently her plea soared.
"You said it was always going to be us, Fleur. Somehow, I don't think you're going to keep that promise, sis."
--
At the order of the Counselor the bowls of beverages were replaced one by one and her committee members rotated by twos to observe the goings on of the table. Luckily it seemed that whatever drink was spiked; the majority of the partygoers hadn't taken part of the underhanded celebrations. Those that were, were escorted out. Only a few remained.
"If you'd rather I do it Fleur…" hesitated Neville.
"They are my responsibility", her intonation was icy and caused the wizard the swallow inexplicably.
The threesome looked as if they were a writhing, sentient mass of limbs. All were red faced and sweaty. Hermione broke through the entanglement and laughed curtly at seeing Fleur.
All eyes in the Hall pivoted their way…
"This…is an…absolutely…WONDEROUS party, Counselor D.," the teenager grinned lazily, cupping Draco and Ron's face before reaching forth and touched Fleur's lips with her finger tips, breathlessly asking, "Say you'll dance with? It'll just be us, if you want – like in your wing, remember?"
The stench was rank upon Hermione's breath and caused Fleur to turn her head away in distaste breifly. Slowly the Veela moved closer towards the three, her eyes focused on Hermione. Her hands came to rest on both boys' necks. Immediately a white-hot burn erupted from within them. Buckets of their perspiration poured from their porous flesh. As the enchantress's hands dropped she hissed out, "You two will return to your roomz until further notice…NOW."
In a haze and partially dehydrated, Ron and Draco back peddled out of the way.
Hermione blinked about, feigning a pout until she leaned forth whispering conspiratorially to Fleur, "Will you touch me and make me hot like that?" capping that off with a laugh.
Fleur glanced towards Neville and it set him hurrying towards the pair. Hermione wrinkled her nose and yipped, "Ah yes…Neville, faithful gopher! Your mistress calls!"
"She's b'yond snockered Fleur…"
"Oh… whas' this, on firs' name basis now? Oh my…dreadfully scandalous wouldn't you say?"
"Carry M'elle Granger to 'er room. I will be there shortly."
Complying, Neville reached for Hermione's arm, but the latter resisted.
"Please! Leggo Nev…I'm not joking!"
"I'm real sorry 'Ermione." Pulling his wand from his back jean pocket, Neville swallowed and said, "Inanimateria."
Hermione's body went limp, making his job easier.
As Neville left, Fleur spoke with the committee, and what teachers were present, they agreed to continue the dance. Leaving her to deal with the raucous-makers. But before she had the chance to retreat after Neville, Ginny and Luna stopped her.
"What are you gonna do with her?" It was Ginny who called out.
"Help her regain her senses."
"She only did that to get your attention."
"There were other ways," Fleur simply answered.
"Yeah, well…you do idiotic things when you're in lo-."
"-I suggest you re-think what you're about to say, M'elle Weasley." The Frenchwoman added courteously, "I think we all know that I lack certain 'fundamentals' she so obviously requires. If you both excuse me…"
Ginny and Luna to one another then back to the woman who cantered out of the Hall, in idle fascination.
"Mm. Well," started Luna thoughtfully "…that's why there are specialized toy makers." She paused and smiled. "Of all people…you'd think she'd know that…"
Thankfully, there was clamoring of students in the Hall that swallowed Ginny's laughter.
--
The light was low in the room, but as the door to the Head Girl's inner chamber swung open, the gloom was cut with the torchlight hugging the outer hall. Neville sat on a lone divan near the entryway. He immediately stood as the Counselor entered.
"Is she…?"
"Out cold, still. I thought I should wait."
Fleur nodded.
"If you need anythin' more…I'll guess I'll uh, be downstairs."
"Merci, Neville." With a nod of his mop top head, he took his leave.
Quietly, the Veela edged closer to the bed, shedding her scarf. With her left hand aloft, a murmured incantation free fell from Fleur's lips. "I shouldn't be taking pleasure in this…BUT…"
A small tin pail materialized into her grasp, filled to the brim with water. Carefully, she tipped the overflowing pail over her victim. Hermione stirred instantaneously. Her body jolted upright, drenched to the core. Mopping her face with both hands the Muggle took in mouthfuls of air.
As her senses came to, her eyes shifted about the room, finally focusing on her assailant. Hermione rubbed her eyes hissing out through gritted teeth: "What the hell do you mean by this?"
"I thought you could use a little cooling off". Fleur brought herself to Hermione's nightstand and gently blew over the extravagant candelabra situated on it. "Especially with 'ow you were getting so 'eated with your boyfriend and M'sieur Malfoy."
Hermione shook her damp locks, still suffering from the effects of alcohol. But she managed to pull herself from her soaked beddings. She glared at Fleur, "My BED, Counselor DeLacour!" The Muggle slowly grabbed at her forehead, "Look, it was all harmless fun."
"So harmless your 'ead iz 'urting, no?"
"Just…why don't you just leave me be?" Hermione struggled her way to her private restroom, erstwhile trying to undress, she came to pause at its entryway.
Fleur watched Hermione quietly, letting the sting of the teen's words absorb. Softly she answered, "If that iz what you wish, but for now, az my duty deems it – a reprimand iz in order for your participation with your boyf-"
Turning sharply on her heel, Hermione pleaded, "Will you just PLEASE shut up! He's not my…" Her brows furrowed looking across the way to Fleur, "…He's not".
The Veela crossed the expanse, stopping before Hermione. Tenderly, her hands grasped at the hem of the youth's sweatertop. "Let's get you ready for bed…I'll…go a'ead an' clean up the mess out 'ere."
Hermione gripped helplessly at Fleur's hands. The Veela chuckled and looked directly into the Muggle's eyes, "You don't 'ave to worry, I am certain we 'ave the same plumbing, no?"
"You don't believe me," Hermione whispered finally. "he's not…we're not… We just…"
"You can't even bring yourself to say it," Fleur pressed gently. "'Ow else should I refer to 'im?" She sighed, "What do you want from me 'Ermione…"
Her heart quickened – sobriety came on swift wings - while her fingers laced gently between Fleur's, guiding the elder in lifting her damp sweater. Hermione's gaze never left the Veela's and for the first time, saw a flicker of uncertainty. This placed a timid smile over the Muggle's lips.
As the article of clothing pooled about the teenager's feet…She drew herself closer to the elder female. Reluctantly, her fingers slipped from Fleur's as she reached up to pull the woman's bun free from its laxed constraints. Hair of silver-platinum spilled downward.
Hermione's hand cupped Fleur's face, tracing every nuance with her fingertips, eventually in their exploration found the Veela's lips. Partially opened, Hermione watched in aching fascination as Fleur's lips manipulated the pads of her digits into her mouth.
She began by applying gentle suction to the teenager's thumb accompanied with a flick of her tongue. The Frenchwoman lavished each finger, while a hand coursed the canvas of Hermione's nubile body…Fleur trailed to the girl's still buttoned jeans. Deftly her fingers worked Hermione free.
The muggle drowned under the heady scent of her arousal and wanted more. She pulled her fingers from Fleur's lips, leaving a trail of the woman's saliva, from her collarbone to the thin fabric that dared to cover the Veela's already erect nipples, her thumb grazed over them incessantly, drawing a delicious moan from the Veela with each pass. Hermione nipped gently at the underside of Fleur's jawline, soon, snatching Fleur's lobe between her lips…
An unsteady breath tore from Hermione's throat intermixed with her confession.
"You want my answer?" Hermione swallowed, "You…What I want…is you."
Fleur felt her skirt tear from her companion's sudden ferocity. Hermione knew exactly where to touch, what to whisper…playing the Veela like a finely tuned instrument. Her leg was hooked about the girl's waist, and her mouth tasted her flesh. Fleur's head listed backward at the impulsive invasion of the Muggle's fingers dabbling close to her all too slick divide. The undone jean's fabric added to the out of control assault, rubbing violently against her sensitized nether region. Shockwaves electrocuted her from the inside – she knew she was close. The Veela draped her arms about Hermione, resting her forehead on the teen's own hoping to stave the battering.
"'Ermione…"
closer…
"'Ermione…!", Fleur gasped.
Cocoa eyes looked up, laced with confusion.
"Not like this…"
"How else is there…?"
The innocence coated by Hermione's words coaxed a gentle laugh from the Veela. With much hesitancy Fleur took Hermione by her hands, placing gentle kisses to the muggle's palm…accompanied with intermittent grazing of her teeth upon Hermione's wrists. An erogenous zone that kept the girl's appetite afloat, all the while guiding her backward to the bed. With a genial dip of her head, Hermione took her queue and sat at the edge of the wet bed.
Fleur towered her and felt the dregs of nervousness hit her. The Veela within was confused. Fleur DeLacour, had always been the hunted, the one they wanted. Attachments came few and far between.
As she looked into Hermione's eyes, Fleur knew it was more than just.
Slowly, without wavering her gaze, the Veela began to undress for the Muggle. Her body was lean, almost devoid of fat. She was toned and unblemished. And as the silk wear tumbled from her nude form, the nerves rocked her to her core. Fleur could feel the wetness seep from her as Hermione's eyes devoured every inch she could see.
Fleur sank to her knees, crawling the remaining gap that lay between them. Hermione instinctively reached for a handful of Fleur's silken mane, trying to draw the woman into a kiss. The Veela effectively avoided the act, as she instead closed her lips over the length of Hermione's neck.
The drone of music emitting from the dance, dictated their rythym…
Hermione wanted this.
Hermione needed this.
And Fleur…would be the one to give it to her…
Her hands busied to remove the last bits of clothing that covered the teenager. Fleur's body nestled between Hermione's thighs while her hands roamed without obstruction, tantalizing the girl's sensitive skin.
The Veela's mouth was hot, that's all Hermione knew as it took in her exposed areole, teasing the pert nub. Each flick of her tongue over the flat of the nub, in turn, gave the girl a quiver from within. She was on her back gripping ferociously at the sheets. Suddenly… the same emanating heat that only Fleur's lips could impart, moved down further along her form. Her mind reeled, but her body caved under its need. And farther she went…
She parted her legs further, giving Fleur her permission.
White knuckled, Hermione gripped viscously to her beddings. She bit her lower lip to keep herself from crying out. But with each tiny piston of Fleur's tongue within her it begged for acknowledgement. Her body arched as the sudden flush of release overcame the Muggle. In a breathless, whimper… Fleur's name covered the girl's lips.
And the place it belonged.
--
Every hour on the hour, the Hogwarts' clock boomed somberly. It tolled now, deep and resounding telling all, that it just hit two o'clock in the morning.
Ginny rolled out of bed, as it is customary of her to do so, especially giving heavy consideration to her over flowing bladder. Stifling a yawn, the Chaser waved her wand lazily and said: "Wingardrium Leviosa…ah and…Locomoto." A kerosene lantern, rose through the air and trailed after her.
As she crossed the girl's dorm, a flicker of light was seen parallel from where she was situated. It was near the Head Girl's room. The only private room - aside from the Head Boy's - in Griffyndor tower. Deciding her bladder could wait…She crossed the hold.
"The Head Girl would most definitely not appreciate a peeping tom at this hour."
Whoever it was, ssh'ed her immediately.
Vexed, she tromped onward, "Like hell I will! Reckon you'd better divvy up who you are or…Nev?"
"Yah, now will you shush?"
"What the HELL are you doing?"
"Workin' onna spell." Neville paused and looked at Ginny, "I…need th'practice."
"At this hour? Are you mad?" Ginny balked, "You look like you're about t'shite a turd instead of spellcasting. An' why infronta 'Mione's…"
All was answered when a voice called out from behind the Head Girl's door: "OH GOD!…I can't…hold on…FLEUR!"
They shared a glance and quickly Ginny asked, "Silencio spell?"
Neville shook his head, "It lasts for only thirty minutes, or…at least until the caster loses concentration, and well…you know."
Ginny gaped.
Neville nodded.
--
AN – Happy Holidays. Apologies for the length. But hopefully this suffices...It'll all be over soon...