"Do you still want to go out and look at ze Christmas decorations, 'ermione?"

It was now the start of the evening and they had just finished dinner at a small Italian restaurant in one the Wizarding quarters in London. Two empty plates, once filled with linguine, crowded the small oak table. Fleur swirled the white wine in her glass out of playful idleness, looking across at Hermione, who was staring out the frosted window, hood stubbornly up.

Fleur couldn't really blame her. She allowed Hermione's explanation of not wanting to be recognized in the streets to pass, but knew it was the old self-disgust rising to the surface. When the server came to ask them if they desired anything else, Hermione gestured absentmindedly at her empty goblet. The earthy wine he delicately poured was deliciously strong to Fleur's senses, and she caught Hermione's hand when it reached to pick up the wooden cup.

She was jarred out of her quiet street-gazing and jumped a little, but managed to keep the goblet from tipping. Looking down at Fleur's hand, she asked, "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"I asked if you still would like to see ze decorations. Zat, and I would like to steal a sip of your wine."

"Yes, to both counts," Hermione said with a small smile.

Fleur put down her own glass and gently took Hermione's goblet, taking a small swallow of the dark red wine within. It was strong on her tongue, and she quietly wondered how drunk Hermione was after three glasses of this. But when she looked into the girl's eyes, she saw no sign of intoxication or confusion, just a quiet calm.

They sat there, with locked gazes, until that annoyance of a server (at least in Fleur's mind), returned to intrude upon their intense, anticipatory looks. He presented the tab with an inked quill, and went off to go bother other couples in the depths of peace.

When Fleur reached to pay, Hermione caught her fingers and shook her head, a tiny smirk on her lips.

"I'll take care of it."

" i Non /i . I was ze one who invited you, and by French tradition, the one who invites, pays."

A playful gleam went into Hermione's eyes.

"I'll just put it some place where you can't find it and pay it when you're not looking."

"Now, what exact place would zat be?"

The thoughts that went through both of their minds at that turn of phrase was enough to make Hermione bite her lower lip and a tiny blush to cross Fleur's cheeks. At the same time, they reached for the receipt once more, only to catch each other's hands rather than the quill and paper.

"At least let me pay half, Fleur."

Fleur raised an amused eyebrow, and shook her head. "No, i ma cherie /i . Let me take care of you. It is not such a bad thing to have someone at your back, no?"

Hermione reluctantly pulled her hand away and let Fleur sign off on the receipt, writing the number of her vault in Gringotts so they could take it directly from her account without a lot of coins changing hands. She turned from the Frenchwoman to finish up the last of her wine, not feeling the least bit drunk despite its obvious potency.

"Are we just going to wander ze streets, or would you like to look at the decorations at 'ogsmeade?"

Hermione said, a little too quickly, "The streets are fine."

Fleur nodded, knowingly and stood up. Hermione's eyes were riveted to the silver dress the older woman had Flooed to her small place in London for. It was distracting, scintillating in the candlelight, and at the sigh of the fabric cut to the small of her back when Fleur turned around, Hermione was quite entranced. A little demon in her head wanted to be bitter and spit at such beauty, but she crushed it with the memories of Fleur's gentle lips on hers.

Part of her did still feel a little inadequate, though. She was still in the thick cloak and hood, wearing a black silk blouse and skirt. It was more practical than good-looking, with the exception of the soft cloth it was made from. Hermione stood up, noticing more than a few pairs of eyes lingering as the mysterious figure in the hood left with the stunning woman in silver. They made an…unique couple, that was sure.

But a couple of whats? She smiled a little and opened the door for Fleur, noticing the Frenchwoman shivering instantly at the chill. The scarf she had brought was nowhere enough to cover the flesh exposed, and Hermione brought her under her cloak as they began to walk down the cobbled street.

Wizards did Christmas decorations in a way Muggles could not, that was for sure. Tiny golden fairy lights and dancing glass baubles were put up in between tinsel that changed colors from moment to moment. A huge tree took up most of the square they were walking into, all of the branches decorated with flashing ornaments.

"It is all so beautiful, don't you think?"

Hermione bit her lip to keep the cliché response on the tip of her tongue from escaping. She knew that saying 'that's not the only thing that's beautiful' would make her look like a fool in front of Fleur, and that was truly one of the last things she wanted to do. Instead, she stopped and pulled Fleur close, the Frenchwoman's body obscured by the heavy cloth of the cloak.

"Yes. Almost beautiful enough to make me say something idiotic in front of the gorgeous woman walking next to me."

"I doubt zat would 'appen."

"What?"

"You saying something idiotic. It is certainly not a common trait of yours."

"It would have been bad enough to stick into a cheap Muggle romance movie."

"Now you are speaking in tongues."

"Oh," Hermione flushed a little, "A movie. It's like the pictures wizards take. The people in it talk and move around and live. Except it's all up on a big screen in a dark room, and you have to pay too much money to see it."

"We must see one sometime. I think such a preposterous thing would be worth ze Galleons."

Fleur smiled at Hermione and leaned down to kiss her, expecting the tension in the younger woman's shoulders at the thought of such behavior in public. But she saw a minute struggle in the Gryffindor's eyes, and a glint in amber orbs when Hermione realized she didn't give a damn. She accepted Fleur's lips in a gentle kiss, only pulling away when they almost both stumbled over the edge of her cloak.

Hermione instantly flushed several shades of red, but Fleur saw the humiliation in her eyes when she whispered, "That wouldn't have happened if I didn't always wear this damned thing…"

"You may wear whatever you like, 'ermione. And if someone has ze gall to say something about it, they will have to deal with ze claws of a Veela."

She knew the 'it' was much more than her style of dress, and lay her head against Fleur's chest, letting out a breath of relief when gentle hands worked their way through the thick curls of her hair in a quiet, comforting motion. Hermione's hands slid around the French-woman's hips, pulling her that last inch closer.

When she felt Fleur's fingers playing along her spine, Hermione looked up and murmured, "Maybe we should go back to my flat. By Murphy's law, Ginny will show up here in a couple of minutes screaming hellfire and damnation."

"If zat is your wish."

"It is."

"You 'ave no idea 'ow much I wanted to 'ear zat."

Hermione's eyes were alight with joy as she pulled Fleur close and using the convenient magic that was Side-Along Apparition, brought the two of them to her home with their arms around each other. As they made their way, interrupted by heated kisses and hesitant touches, to Hermione's bedroom, Fleur grabbed both of her lover's hands and asked softly, "Are you sure about this?"

"Yes. More than I've been sure about anything for a long time."

Fleur answered her with a French curse, most likely in reaction to Hermione's hand slipping from the older woman's hip to the curve of her thigh. The thick fog of lust settled into piercing cobalt eyes as Fleur pushed Hermione down onto the soft cotton sheets of the bed, pinning the Gryffindor's hands down against the mattress. In the gasp that followed, Fleur whispered, 'I love you' just loud enough for Hermione to hear.