Nine.

Sleep is a God-send for most and she could have slept through to the afternoon. The beddings had been discarded from the still damp bed, save for a single layer sheet. She found herself wrapped in it wide-awake. Hermione's mind was abuzz with activity, replaying what she could remember, events that happened just hours before. Her eyes wandered to her bedmate; she could still feel the rawness of Fleur's mouth roaming every inch of her body. That feeling though was overridden by an undeniable tingle that her lips felt.

Her fingers trailed over the contour of it and felt the succulence. Hermione smiled and shook that feeling off as nothing more than the dregs of what her body just went through. Everything tingled.

The exploration brought her cresting over the edge more than twice. She dared not count. It embarrassed her … Hermione instead, took refuge from her thoughts and watched her companion slumber. Quiet, unlike she was used to. Everything was softer; Fleur's touch, Fleur's whispered coaxing…Fleur's body on hers. Only one thing remained out of her imagination. And one Hermione began to crave more and more.

She wanted Fleur's lips on hers. They were a gentle hue, full and glossed lightly with a damp sheen. They quietly beckoned her. Just how much softer are they?

They were so close; Hermione could just…lap the excess fluid that clung to them.

" 'Aven't you 'ad enough yet…?" it was a guttural tease. Enough to send Hermione's face buried into the crook of Fleur's neck and shoulder.

"I…forry! I juft wan'ed…"

With a smile, Fleur reached out and pulled Hermione's healthy mane back, enough to reveal the girl's ear, "I cannot 'ear a word you're saying...'Err-My-O-Nee."

Hermione peeled her face from Fleur's neck, placing chaste kisses along the line of the Veela's throat, "Honestly…" breaking the pattern of her kisses with words, "If you insist on purring…" another kiss just behind Fleur's ear, "… my name that way…" a nip, "…I may just…" the line of kisses just barely began to reach the corner of Fleur's lips, closer to her goal.

Carefully, Fleur turned her head upwards placing a kiss upon the tip of Hermione's nose, "I regard that as an honor in itself," prodded Fleur, understanding the innuendo. Slowly the Frenchwoman untangled herself and rose from the bed. She began the unenviable task of weeding through the mess for her undergarment.

Hermione remained on the bed, tucking an arm under her head studying Fleur – feeling put out by her advances. There was nothing that the Muggle didn't…love about what Fleur did…

Love?

Carried away by the opening of her drapes, the word that echoed in Hermione's mind, faded. She was more concerned of the quiet that settled in the room.

"Why won't you kiss me?" The question was blurted out without thought.

The Veela paused in her dressing but Hermione continued, "Don't get me wrong…The sex was amazing! But isn't kissing a part of that affair – Mind, I don't think I'm that bad…", She laughed.

Fleur continued to dress quietly regarding the first question until the latter statement was said – the words that the girl uttered stung her implicitly. Then again, it was just sex. As it always is.

The Muggle nibbled upon her lower lip. She decided to pull her frame upright. Hearing no reply, she reached out letting her fingers trail upon the small of Fleur's back, a spot that Hermione found during the night – It caused Fleur many times over to loose a soft gasp followed by an even quieter laugh. A musical laugh. The Muggle smiled as the Frenchwoman's body complied once more.

"I…I'm sorry, I suppose it's a childish question." Pressed Hermione.

As she slipped the torn skirt over her slim form, she gave a soft utterance, "Inmendo." The lining of the skirt stitched itself to its original make. When she turned to face Hermione, the teenager caught a distinct air of warring within the Veela. Then…

The Counselor knelt alongside the bed, she inclined her head studying the girl's features – remembering every detail. From the shy downturn of her lips, the inquisitive doe-shaped eyes that burned constantly with the need to know. Fleur's eyes, brilliant in their crystalline coloration, met with Hermione's. Extending her hand forth, the elder woman's fingers tenderly wove through the thick of the Muggle's hair. Without a word, she drew closer to the teenager.

"It's such a trivial thing, oui?" Fleur tendered out accompanied by a curt laugh.

Hermione scrutinized the knelt Veela – she couldn't breathe. Something…changed.

"Just…enjoy what was shared last night." The Veela finally managed to utter. She rose to her feet, glancing briefly at the door to the Head Girl's wing. And decided the betterment against leaving by conventional means. With a marriage of her hands eliciting a sharp clop, the Veela slowly pulled her hands away from one another and her wand materialzed between.

She's leaving!

And you're panicking. Why Hermione?

The teen's mind reeled. It was being invaded. She looked helplessly towards Fleur.

"…Wait…Fl..will I see you again?"

"Of course, 'Ogwarts is not so big of a school, non?"

"That's…well, I mean it's not quite what I had in mind…"

Tell her!

What? That she's a better fuck than that meat you call a boyfriend?

Hermione lowered her face, enough so that her fingers would press against the bridge of her nose; in hopes to stymie the confused thoughts and thump of a newly born headache.

Ah that's right…It was just a romp, horizontal mambo, bed bouncing… wasn't it? That's why you want to see her again?

"Oh?" questioned Fleur dragging Hermione back to the now. The latter lifted her head as then the room began spinning maliciously.

"…no," whispered Hermione. It was an answer to that voice, that question, rather than a response to Fleur.

"Then," softly started the Veela, "…what?"

But…before the girl could voice her reply, an urgent rapping to her door was heard. It pulled their attentions towards it.

"I'm coming in… niceties withstanding."

The voice had said and in little more than a breath had fed Hermione's lungs as the door swung wide announcing the party. Grabbing the sheets just in time, Hermione bundled herself within the mess.

Planting a hand over the flare of her hip Fleur regarded the small group. With a slight motioning nod of her head, Neville spirited about and quickly shut the door.

"Gin an' I tried, Fleur…," Offered the wizard apologetically then shot his gaze towards the Muggle adding, "…'Mione. But y'see when a Professor wants in…"

"Nymphadora," crisply acknowledged Fleur, immediately silencing Neville as she stared past the teens.

The shorter female looked less than amused walking into the room, only briefly coursing her gaze over a very embarrassed Hermione Granger. She advanced towards Fleur harshly whispering, "Yer a counselor fer chissake! This is not what the Order deems as 'elping these kids!"

Fleur burrowed that quiet intensity onto Tonks. "It was…a momentary lapse in judgement…It won't 'appen again."

"Damned right it won't."

The Veela regarded the resolute statement and knew the unspoken truth that hid behind them."If what 'Eadmaster Dumbledore mentioned is true…"

Tonks agreed with a singular bob of her 70's-esque 'doo. "…Everything goes back to normal – "

Ginny quickly whisked her way towards the bed, unconcerned with adult politicking. Neville followed suit, looking worse for wear at this point. Hermione had barely registered the pair; instead took an intense fixation on observing the ongoings between Fleur and Tonks.

Concerned, the red head sat gently upon the bed's edge, extending her hand to Hermione's pallid cheek. Through clenched teeth and a valiant effort to stymie the sudden eruption of jealousy in her, Ginny gamely…calmly asked her friend, "Hey…are you alright?"

"What's going on?"

"You're not hurt are you? Did she hurt you?"

"Gin – what? No! Merlin's beard no…No," her voice softened, "….she's so gentle with me…" Hermione paused in desperation – her face beet red; she then whispered back, "You're not answering my question!"

Neville eagerly glanced his tired eyes towards the elder women who had now shifted farther from the three of them before returning his attentions towards Ginny and Hermione, "Professor Tonks'd been goin' 'round… mentioned t'th'rest o'the 'Ouses tha' term's come to an end this year."

Ginny nodded, "But no one's been allowed to leave."

"No one's allowed to leave?" Hermione blinked, "Just what are they expecting?"

Quietly the collective drew their gaze towards the far off corner of the massive room. The muggle's gaze immediately focused on Fleur.

"…Tonight is when we act. It was decided," Tonks studied the Veela's countenance. There was no trace of concern, only a serene calm. "If it comes down to it…"

"You deal with what you need to and I will up'old my end."

"The moles are plenty in 'Ogwarts, Fleur – but we still firmly maintain tha' yuir sister…"

"I've said my piece, Nymphadora," replied the woman, absorbing the inference.

Suddenly feeling sapped of whatever ray of happiness she had, Fleur lowered her gaze but she was unable to keep them from trailing back towards the bed. Hermione met her eyes, tempting her with bittersweet beckoning from afar with a gentle smile. Fleur quietly acknowledged her first mistake of sharing Hermione's bed; her second came in the form of a soft kiss, stolen as the young woman slept.

It was the only thing tied to her heart that Fleur had left to give of importance to anyone. To the only one.

As her focus lingered over Hermione… the first tendrils of smoke began to swallow the Veela. With a mouthed adieu and a quiet smile, Fleur slipped from the room, leaving in her wake, a mist of icy hued colors.

Hermione felt herself tremble under the weight of Fleur's stare; her breath was coxed out of her body as the Veela apparated from her view. Something left along with the Frenchwoman, the room though dressed in the opulence of light felt cold and inhuman. Blinking furtively she turned to her companions, not understanding what just transpired.

Ginny gave a sympathetic rub of her friend's arm – she fought the desperate monster that wanted to scream at Hermione to open her eyes. Neville unsure offered a weak smile.

When Hermione's questioning look turned to Tonks, demanding an explanation and pleaded silently for some kind of answer as to what was happening to her. The normally effervescent professor only said:

"DeLacour 'ad business to attend to – she passed 'er goodbyes to you lot." Tonks paused long enough to toss a few of Hermione's clothes from her drawers towards the teen, " 'ere it's a mite nippy even in th'castle. Reckon it won't do for th'Ead Girl to show up in nothing but 'er birthday suit, yeah?"

Hermione acknowledged with a soft, "Right". The tossed clothes landed upon her still covered thighs, she stared at them for a long bit, before Ginny tentatively called her name pulling her from her thoughts. She smiled briefly to her friend. Hermione slipped from under the covers and absently began to dress herself.

Neville respectively turned about, barely able to avert his gaze.

"Look I need'ja all t'help calm the populace. Lotta confused people running around downstairs."

"We'll get on it Professor," quipped Neville. He stole a glance about him and took note of the girls, "Fact…I'll uh, go an' git tha' started."

Apparently having accepted the wizard's promise, Tonks hadn't wasted any time, she apparated from the room. Following suit and feeling out of place, Neville made his excuses leaving the pair alone.

"It must be rather important. If the Order's involved, I mean."

Ginny spared a look at her friend while her hands busied themselves, folding the damp beddings. Her nostrils flared slightly at the distinct smell of sex clinging to the disposed of clothing – that, just broke her. "This better not be what I'm thinking it could be."

"It's WATER, Ginny. She doused me with a pail of cold water before…"

"-God," the redhead interjected with a chortle, failing to hide her insipid remark, "Ron was right…"

Hermione cinched her belt about her waist, chuckling, "Agreeing with your brother – it must be the apocalypse. But what praytell – could he ever be right about."

Dismissing the playful intonation hanging on Hermione's words, Ginny continued, "…Jumping from him t'her, sopping bed-sheets, all night snog-fests…that you're kinky girl."

"What are you implying…"

"You've pulled a Parvati."

"NOT you…don't you even dare start on me…after you coaxed me to face her!", warned Hermione vehemently.

Sparing no glance to the Muggle, Ginny effortlessly spat out, "…I'm jealous, if she can turn you, she must be one helluva-"

Her body suddenly jostled backward and her feet had barely situated themselves. She had been blindsided as Hermione forcibly laid into her body with a shove. The sudden move truncated her words and caused her tongue to be inadvertently clamped between her teeth. Ginny turned her head, meeting Hermione with a dead stare.

The Muggle defiantly glared back at Ginny. Their emotions were raw.

"She and…I…This is different!" Hermione groped for words, "So don't even begin to preach to me about her…You don't know what she's like!" As Ginny rose to her feet, Hermione continued to rave, "I went for it Ginny – You told me to and I went. You have no right to be contemptuous – why the hell are you! Why now!"

The redhead seethed, "Because I never thought you had the moxy Granger! I didn't think you'd actually grow a set and do something." Ginny laughed bitterly, "Let alone fuck the twat! Bet she had a fine time finding out she was second fiddle," The chaser feinted a mock 'oops', covering her mouth with her fingertips, "Aww, poor thing - no cherry to pop!" her tirade ended with a mutterance, "…At least one Weasley managed to bag you…"

Silence strewn between the pair before Hermione began to move passed Ginny, pausing only to brokenly asked, "…why are you doing this to me…"

The taller girl, the more athletic girl, pivoted about grabbing Hermione by her arms hissing out inconsolably,

"….Because you never gave me one look. I was right in fronta your face… it should have been me!"

--

Gabrielle was tucked into a fetal position, having waited all night for her sister. Sleep – she was told – was nothing but a waste of time. You'll get plenty of it, when you're dead. Someone would be getting that eternal sleep then. But it won't be her. The teenager felt the heavy hand of the Sandman resting on her shoulder and discarded it with little more than a turning of her head.

Her bleary eyes sought out the sole timepiece in Fleur's room. A Muggle digital clock. It glowed green, cutting the dimness of the room.

"Sony says…that it's eight-thirty in the morning," murmured Gabrielle. Her voice cracked, inferring just how tired her body was. Slowly pulling herself upright, she hissed, "Accio wand." Her wand spiraled through the air, slipping comfortably into her lazed grasp before she murmured, "Lumos." As the room lit, her weary gaze swept about. Gabrielle's body began to quake as a laugh peeled from her lips.

"And she's not here." Her legs swung over the side of Fleur's bed while Gabrielle's eyes stared into empty space.

Her mind whirled deep into a chasm of charcoal black. It screamed that this would happen. But Gabrielle refused to acknowledge she'd been replaced. Her relationship with her sister was supposed to be on solid ground. Unshakeable. Undeniable. Unchallenged.

There was nothing that they would have not told the other.

Except the fact that she was a whore. A carpet munching whore. Just as that Weasley man told you.

She buried her face in the net of her hands while her body continued its unsolicited shaking due to her morbid laughter. Gabrielle did as she was told, she always did as she was told – in kind the girl was rewarded. As the school days passed the lure of knowledge of more magics had beckoned her subtly – dark arts or not – she became a vacuum that devoured every manifesto she laid her hands on. But not only did that knowledge come by paper they appeared as whispers from her daydreams… Twisted and full of malcontent.

She became their physical link – their new tool. With the promise of knowledge that would grant her even ground with her peers, Gabrielle sacrificed her humanity with her sacrifice of Lavender Brown. In hopes to retain the only love that ever mattered to her. Her perverse and possessive love of….

"…Fleur." Gabrielle ceased her chuckling, inclining her head slightly. There was a perfumed fragrance lightly clinging about the air accompanied with a soft crack the resounded from outside the main bedchamber. Her sister had finally returned. Rising to her feet, the lanky teenager pulled open the bedroom door. Barefoot, Gabrielle moused her way through the hall. The scent grew poignant, signaling to the girl that she was close to its source.

Light poured mercilessly into the main hub of the domicile, causing Gabrielle to shade her sensitive, red-rimmed eyes. Peering into the living room, movement had stayed her breath. The elegantly tall woman pivoted about, flashing her imperial smile. The woman closed the gap that lay between them with a few strides. The warmth of her sister's hand as it graced her cheek pulled her gaze upward. Flecks of silver nested between pools of blue pierced their way into her being. She saw Fleur's lips move…

Nothing could have been more difficult than this moment in Fleur's life. As she gazed to her younger sister, she fought to find the words of apology that refused to flow past her lips. "I 'adn't meant to…" she heard herself begin, "-things just happened, Gabrielle." Her voice trailed, cracking slightly, "...there are things I need to say."

She felt the younger girl nestle comfortably in her palm. That instance gave Fleur a sense of calm. It coaxed her to tempt the fates and speak the truth to her sibling. Conservative as Gabrielle was, Fleur had confidence in their bond.

"I fought for a long time with this…"

The shorter woman placed a chaste kiss to Fleur's palm.

"But I 'ad to be certain this time before I could…"

Gabrielle continued to invade Fleur's space, curling her arms about her beloved sister's waist.

"…tell you why…I am the way I am." The Frenchwoman succumbed to the embrace, holding fast to her sister. "Why I'm…different, Gabrielle."

The younger Veela pressed her ear to Fleur's chest; she heard the soft timed beat of the elder's heart. It was strong with every breath she took. And only grew stronger with the words that fell from her lip.

"Last night there was a chance for me to be…whole."

Gabrielle shut her eyes.

"I took it.", whispered Fleur, threading her fingers through her sister's tresses.

The young woman coasted her hand from Fleur's waist, to have it flail gently against her own thigh. Gabrielle's fingers brushed against the butt of her wand…

"…and I fell in love," the elder woman quietly admitted. "But it was…nothing more for her than sex."

The teenager's wand was freed from the haven it was secured in.

"I…should have been more careful, to trust to tell you that I'm" she paused, feeling a lump form at the pit of throat "…I should have been a sister to you." Pulling back slightly, Fleur cupped her sister's face between her hands, "I should have apologized to you sooner." She searched her younger sister's gaze, "will you forgive me?"

Gabrielle's lips slipped into a smile, somber and lost. She searched her thoughts for the proper conveyance. When nothing came to the fore, she felt the tip of her wand touch her sister's chest – pulling her from the cobweb. Her brow knitted together while her eyes glossed. When Gabrielle finally found her voice, it was a raspy murmur…

"Stupefy."

Crystal eyes deadened to dull grays. Only ragged breaths fell from Fleur's mouth.

It was a deafening crack that sent a pulse through Fleur's body; the force of which sent her colliding against a Cathedral-like window. A stab of pain shot from the base of her tailbone to the nape of her neck when the glass crushed against her back. The glass itself did not remain in tact as it collapsed about her.

Gabrielle crossed the expanse of the floor, kicking away the debris that lay in her path with her bared feet; she stopped short at the shards of glass skirting about her older sister. The hand that grasped her wand involuntarily shook while it leveled towards Fleur once more. The woman gasped laboriously.

"…Only if you can ," the younger woman softly delivered. Sliding her finger along the smooth alabaster base of her wand, Gabrielle held it as steady as she could, pointed towards Fleur's prone form. She met the elder woman's colorless gaze, "Which I don't think you have…" her lips opened once more.

"stupefy…"

--

Her hands grew laxed about the shorter girl's shoulders – her voice became restrained, dipping lower to a level of a plea.

"If you wanted to know so badly what it would'a been like, 'Mione…", Ginny rasped, "All you needed was to ask me... Just tell me…tell me…"

There was a sense of desperation emanating from Ginny. Hermione struggled to free from not only her friend's vise but also the heavy burden that her words carried. The inference it presented.

"I…can't – please…don't let me lie to y-." Hermione scarcely had the time to eek out the final syllable. Ginny stole that from her as their lips met in a tortured embrace. The kiss was fierce, hungry…but salted with bittersweet torment. Her hands groped at the redhead's frontal lapels, fighting the urge to respond…

Hermione was saved the anguish…the sunlight that tore into the room, bathing the occupants in a heated blanket. Everything seemed frozen in time except the wind that carried with it sounds of concrete crumbling, chafing against glass shards.

She shoved Ginny forcefully from her, sending the taller woman stumbling backward.

Using the base of her palm, Hermione mopped the excess saliva that clung to her lips. Tearing her eyes from Ginny, the muggle's attention was shot towards the source of the disturbance; a singular thought went threadbare into her mind, burrowing further into her body. "…Fleur…", voicing it only strengthened the sudden heat that massaged from her chest. The worry mounted.

With a hand grasping over her heart, she spared no other moment and pivoted on her heel…

"Hermione!"

The muggle paused at the door, her back went ramrod at the urgent calling of her name.

"She doesn't need you!" The Chaser hissed out.

The Head Girl glanced over her shoulder towards the redhead. Hermione furrowed her brow as she spoke in hushed tones.

"…but I need her."

--

When her head slapped on the ground, Gabrielle's hair fanned in an ethereal halo. Likening the girl to a fallen angel. She had the upper hand in one instance, but her last spell casting backfired at the second. Her face lifted from the damp earth, she shook her head free from its dizzied grasp. Gabrielle scoured around her and saw people crowding about the area. She was suddenly outside.

Her hand was like a vise wrapped about the base of her wand. Gabrielle pushed herself from the ground, bruised, cut and wounded in pride. The young woman's eyes overflowed with saline and barely had enough leeway to see straight, the emotionally rabid teen turned spearing her wielded weapon outward:

"Furiatia!"

Fleur countered the spell with an incantation of defense – breaking the charm, living up to her signature profession. Her sister's first volley sent her reeling. She was unprepared for it, even though the confrontation was expected. It wasn't supposed to be violent. Gabrielle was supposed to surrender under her care and protection…The Order promised that her sister's sentence wouldn't be extreme.

But no one took into account what would happen if Lavender Brown died.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

Then again…there was so many things that were supposed to be.

With her composure slowly slipping from her control, Fleur desperately attempted to use her natural ability to comb through Gabrielle's thoughts and emotions – but a Veela, using her powers on another of her kind is like a human trying to reach an understanding with a wall.

"It doesn't 'ave to be this way, Gabrielle!" Snapped Fleur – she tore through the gaping wound of the wing she was housed in; Fluer dimissed the intermittent slices born unto her bared feet by the mixed debris, "I won't let them 'urt you – give yourself up to me…!"

"No one HURT me as much as you have!" Gabrielle launched herself into a sprint, barreling her way towards her elder sister, "I hate you!"

Fleur was blunted with the insipid words rapid firing from her sister's lips; so much that the physical collision of their bodies echoed off the walls as a sharp slap – the elder Veela hadn't even put up a fight.

Hermione burst through the dense mass of bodies that stood dumbly watching the sight before them. Her eyes rested onto the form of the younger straddled the other, pressing the tip of her wand into the jugular of Fleur's neck; the soft flesh gave way from the pressure while the once proud Frenchwoman grasped in vain at Gabrielle's throat with one hand; as the other – as it gripped her wand - was nestled at the girl's abdomen.

Pinned beneath the weight of her sister, Fleur's eyes shifted about the area around her, locking on Hermione for only one allowed beating of her heart – she wished for nothing more to spare Hermione from what was about to occur. But the look was enough to draw Gabrielle's interest towards her sister's line of sight…That was sufficient in stroking the younger Veela's ire.

The Frenchwoman felt the tip began to grow warm against her tender skin.

When her attention was pulled back to her sister, Gabrielle lowered herself and touched her forehead to her Fleur's own whispering a throaty, almost garbled prose, "Avada…"

The Charm Breaker – with unhidden pain - willed her own weapon awake with a soft counter utterance as it stabbed upward against the younger DeLacour, "Corpus…"

"Kav.."

"Requi-"

"..ad-"

"-Em!"

"-d…a…!"

The cry of her name clinging on Hermione's lips was the last that registered in Fleur's mind before the blanket of white, silenced it.

--

a/n – The end is just around the bend.