I don't know how long it's been since the last update here; but as promised I AM NOT DEAD! I will continue to write stories and do my best to get them up on some regular schedule. Thank you to all you loyal readers and hope you enjoy! There is a little time jumping back and forth; so do read carefully to follow.
All BOLD speech is said in French.
Sacrifices Have Been Made
Time was a fickle thing to one who held power. Perhaps not on her own but the means to a bountiful amount was within reach and Hermione was never going to let that go; not now. Three year had passed since the war and the now young woman stood beside the dark mahogany desk and its single occupant as they reviewed papers needed for the upcoming day.
"They are arriving as planned?" The elder female was comfortable in her appointed position as she asked with a deep, if light tone.
"Yes Madam, assigned times have been printed and sent to their 'Welcoming Teams'; of whom are on standby" Hermione replied as she collected the newly signed paper and replaced it with another.
"Very good, very good."
"You have another meeting with the Auror squad for sector seven." The brunette mentioned after another switch of paperwork.
"I have spoken to them earlier this week, I see no need to do so again personally. Send for their team leader instead. It will move faster that way."
"It has been arranged, Madame." The elder woman finished the last scrawl of her signature before she placed the quill back into its holder; she then turned to focus solely on the young witch. They were held in a silent standoff; the hardened stare from both parties slowly electrified the air around them. Hermione eventually smiled when she saw her boss finally relax and release a sigh.
"Ah it's nearly time. Shall we go?" Hermione stepped back; all the while she waved her hand for the stacks of paper, bags and extra notes to magically sort themselves and follow along behind the duo. Being an assistant within the Ministry was a hard task, but it was one the young woman took very seriously and with great professionalism. Especially when her boss was the Minister of Magic, Hermione had to hold herself up to a much higher standing. One she took too proudly.
"I haven't authorized this lunch break, Madame Minister." She replied and yet followed the elder woman from the office without further comment.
Blonde hair in a tightly knit bun, navy robes that flowed from her youthful frame and luxurious all the while; there was little else to see from this lady than how she held herself. Power, authority, charm and it wasn't solely from her position. Céleste Delacour was the most powerful person in all of France and Hermione knew it.
"But Fleur was so adamant about it. She said you've been avoiding going home after the last hour. Have you been avoiding your lover 'Ermione? I don't remember authorizing that." The Veela woman sent her darling granddaughter-in-law a smirk of which the brunette merely ignored.
"She has been avoiding her duties and does very little work whenever I return home on time. I will not have these agreements, these brand new partnerships I would like to reiterate, fall to pieces due to her lack of composure and seriousness. She will get her reward only after she succeeds at anything other than threatening the life of wanted criminals." The witch took a moment of pause to breathe before she continued. "Speaking of which, her department will need another approval for repairs due to last week's mishap. The accountant has handed in the numbers."
"As always 'Ermione you are too good for this job."
"Of course I am." Hermione grinned somewhat slyly. "I was made for it."
"Be that as it may, I know many things you are 'made' for young one."
The two women walked on, their destination none but their own business. Without so much as a glance to their secretary, the department employees, or anyone else for that matter; they stepped into an oversized fireplace and vanished in a puff of green fire and smoke.
"My love, my 'eart. It is so good to see your stunning face in zis dark cruel world." Fleur practically swept the brunette off her feet the moment she caught sight of the witch. Hermione merely rolled her eyes and placed a perfectly manicured hand on the taller blonde's sternum, as she manually created distance that was acceptable in their present social environment. Of course, given that their country was known for that little 'extra' affection she allowed a kiss or two before she finally took her seat at the table. Her mother-in-law sat opposite for the day; Apolline, who was dressed to the nines as always, had garnered the attention of every male within a ten foot radius. Of course, Hermione had to wonder; which Veela they intended to stare at. With three generations seated at a single table, one could only hope all three women didn't simultaneously melt the brains of all present witnesses with their collective pheromones. A waitress arrived to pour water, the simplest of actions and yet the work assistant couldn't help but focus on the rise of liquid; mind lost to the memories of the past.
Hermione was hunched over bent knees, head rested upon their peak; her pitiful eyes took in the dreary weather that reflected her feelings. Rain. It poured cold droplets on what was meant to be a nice spring morning. It fell and splattered upon the window she lounged beside with minimal energy. It was the only natural light source her room offered, not that it alone was much to the teen witch. She was a prisoner; a captured, caged thing left there to live out the rest of her days at her owner's will.
The door opened softly, almost without noise but still Hermione was focused on the outside world and not on the new occupant in her room. A soft clink of metal notified the placement of a tray; no doubt her morning meal from the generous kitchens. One that the brunette would eat if only to sustain herself, not to placate the cooks nor the one who brought it. A gentle touch grazed across her cheek but no sign of emotion was returned. Hermione merely watched on in silence and Fleur was given the same answer as the day before.
"You 'ave to eat 'Ermione."
"I will. As soon as you excuse yourself from my room." The reply came in a disinterested fashion and at any other time the blonde would have taken pride had she heard it from her spunky mate, but when it was directed at her, it was both heart-breaking and loathsome.
"Very well. After you are finished we're expected downstairs."
"I'm but an ornament meant to sit here and look pretty. Doing my job as requested, I don't need to go anywhere else."
"You are taking it very literal, 'Ermione."
"Oh I'm sorry, by being a prisoner am I meant to be happy and join the festivities every day?!" Dark eyes that burned, gazed upon the Veela woman. Hermione's face was one of concentrated rage, one sliver away from raising hell. "I'm sorry I'm being so sour! I'm sorry I'm not downstairs having fun with the rest of your family all because the war is over! I'm sorry that I risked myself day after day to help win that war and the only reward I get is to be locked up inside a mansion that's not even in my home country!" She breathed heavily; though her rage still pulsed as the brunette got up and stormed her way out the doors. "You got what you wanted Fleur and you still don't seem happy. Why should I be when I'm in a situation I don't want?" With that she exited her room; a feat she hadn't achieved in days and with some shock Hermione realised her girlfriend wasn't right behind her.
Her words were harsh but truthful. She had been taken to France the moment the Veela could apparate just outside the castle. With Hermione held captive in her arms, the blonde Being practically paraded her around like her newest shining jewelled necklace and everyone ate it up. Then again, they were all of the same blood; every last one of them. The brown eyed girl came to the end of her tirade of storming steps when there was nowhere else to go and the garden path had done nothing to deserve such anger. A marble bench was her makeshift resting place, so Hermione took it without complaint and slowly allowed the outdoors to calm her. To drain away the emotions that boiled away within her.
"If I'd known this is what Veela were truly like…possessive, controlling; relentlessly demanding! I'd never had made the deal." She all but muttered to herself, as her arms covered her middle in some way to hold her fractured self together. Without the anger all that was left was emptiness and feelings of isolation but deep down, the brunette knew she deserved it. If Hermione hadn't taken the deal… would they have truly won the war? Would her friends and homeland still be standing?
"Ah, what 'ave we 'ere? Ze tiny frazzled sparrow 'as escaped 'er cage?" The voice of a new arrival; high pitched and mocking filled tone, flowed into her ears like a strand of beautifully played music. Veela.
Hermione's mind only formed one word while her eyes remained on the gravel path beneath her feet. If she didn't interact with them maybe they would go away; it was the usual conclusion. They at first loved her, she was the centrepiece to the magnificence of Fleur's overall image; a willing mate. A war trophy and evidence of power. However, her first 'rebellious' action was to refuse to dine with the family barely a week after they returned and it was like Hermione stepped out of the cage and into the hunting zone. She was the prey; they were the predators.
"Not talking to us petit bird? Whatever did we do to deserve such treatment?" The taunt was an obvious one but still the girl refused to lift her gaze. This wasn't taken well by the standing ladies.
"Per'aps she is fearing us…"
"Now why would zat be petit birdie?" The first voice returned again, this time much closer and it was then Hermione felt the air as it brushed over her skin. There was more than one of them...
"I zink she's lost all 'er guts from ze war." A third unknown Veela spoke up to the giggled humour of the second.
"Little birdie lost 'er spine while fluttering about 'er cage" The two bouts of laughter was a wound dragged across the brunette's chest and she wanted nothing more than to be back in her room that instant, however she wasn't given the chance when two delicate finger firmly placed themselves under her chin and tilted upward. Dark orbs gazed at her from the supposed first Veela woman; she was dark haired, fair skinned and very, very beautiful. But as was all Veela and with Hermione bonded to whom she was, such minor factors did nothing and any such influence the elder Beings attempted to achieve through it would come to no effect. They would likely know it well already.
"'Ave you my petit bird?" Those eyes were simultaneously soft yet frightening all the same. "'Ave you lost all your fire? Ze spark zat ignited us all to rally be'ind you and your lover; all for zose peasant creatures trying to stand toge'zer and save zat pitiful crumbled pile of a castle?"
"Don't talk about my home like that!" Her sharp tongue wasn't as blunt as she might have hoped.
"Oooh" The other two were brought back from their little distraction.
"She speaks."
"Finally."
"But not for long I'm sure." The dark eyed one tilted the girl's head back further and even with the resistance Hermione tried to give, she felt the sharpest of nails as they pressed ever so threateningly on her throat.
"Yo…y..you…"
"Trembling suits you well petit birdie." The woman said with an overly sweetened tone. "Such attributes won't suit one who is supposed to stand at our leader's side. We'd sooner tear you to shreds." The atmosphere suddenly darkened and the three Veela closed in around her. Hermione could only stiffen in fear as her vision clouded.
"Back away!" The most almighty of gusts encased the area as a lean figure swooped in with a thundering crash. Fleur needn't brandish her wings nor her claws to get the lowly clanswomen to scurry away from her mate. The seething glare sent in their direction was more than enough to have them scramble with their heads bowed lower than their shoulders. "'Ow dare you touch 'er Antionette?! She is your superior! Never return 'ere again! Be gone!" The Veela ladies vanished within a blink of an eye and Fleur's attention instantly went to the terrified girl that was barely able to keep herself from crumbling. Her mutterings of safety and comfort fell on deaf ears as the brunette was too far into her self-doubts and traumatic memories to even recognise where she was, let alone acknowledge who held her. It was to become the first of many attempts that darkened the home and Hermione was to be the centerpiece.
The groan was low, deep and lustful; Hermione could feel it more than hear its arrival as she graced her lover's lips with her tongue if only for a second before she pulled away. They were still in public view, though not directly, the young witch had too much decorum to allow her Veela mate the over excitement of doing such things out where all could see. But that wouldn't warrant no goodbye kiss of course; there was little in this world out of Hermione's reach. Anything she couldn't gather herself, a single look towards her wife would easily rectify such issues. The course of which was left to the imagination, so long as her goal was reached in a timely fashion.
"Now my love, return to your office and do some work. I will be home to receive you this evening." Her voice was like velvet against the blonde's delicate eardrums. The bewitching effects sending her wife into a powerless state of subjugation.
"Mmmm mon amour…"
"No." A perfectly manicured finger intercepted those lips as they came in for another kiss. Hermione's darkened gaze held strong. "You will not. Back to your office with you. I have meetings to attend and I know your schedule enough that you're not so laid back today either. Go now."
"Your words are so 'urtful to me mon amour." The blonde tried again to no avail.
"Truth hurts Fleur. Off you go." Her little taunt was met with a glare and no doubt Hermione would be in for some 'fun' later that night. But there was still hours before then and truly both ladies had their own work to get back to. It wasn't long after she returned and the never ending pile of papers to sort through were visible, Hermione overheard the latest rumours; news the brunette could only sigh over.
International Ministry Cooperation; a formal term for two governments to collaborate in areas of work.
Such times when Ministry officials crossed paths and borders in hopes that they could procure an outcome to favour both sides. Usually this involved pastimes such as various sports or on occasion the Law Enforcement Departments cooperating in arrest efforts. The previous experiences of this weren't so profitable in the years passed but Hermione doubted for a second they'd stop at that and never attempt collaboration again… such a thing wasn't a positive outcome. If anyone bothered to ask the brilliant witch for her opinion.
"Madam?"
"Ah so you're now aware of who our guests will be, hmm?" Celeste had been sitting at her desk, peacefully enjoying a cup of tea when her young assistant strolled into the room unannounced. Of course when the office whispers finally did get around to the young witch, the Minister had expected this type of reaction. "Unlike your past experiences with that Tournament, this Ministry Cooperation event will entitle both nations access to respectable resources and methods of execution in search and recovery of Dark Wizards by Law Enforcement Wizards. Or would you prefer I use the term 'Deatheaters' and 'Aurors'?"
"I would prefer a more conventional informative note than just the word of mouth of the nearest gossip witch." Hermione rebutted with a grim look. She greatly disapproved of her boss' actions; even if the Veela woman found it rather amusing. If they were to host this event and given who was to soon arrive...
"Do not fret 'Ermione. I promise they will not cause any trouble. You have my permission to explicitly ignore all involvement with them should situations arise."
"Thank you Céleste."
"But, that will not be any excuse for this event to go anyway but splendidly; I hope you understand." Hermione nodded her head in the affirmative; whatever this upcoming event was to bring, excellence was sure to be one of them. Perhaps some bad memories as well.
The young witch only had so long to enjoy the last refreshing days of freedom; and her wife to the fullest of potential, before the oncoming storm hit. 'Drastic' wasn't within Hermione's vocabulary for the day's schedule and there would be no time to allow such things. Of course the brunette was dressed in her most professionally suited attire and stood at her boss's side should any assistance be needed by the elder woman; not that Céleste would ever say so.
It didn't take long before the fireplace engulfed itself in flames and the first of many Englishmen stepped out onto foreign soil. The organised teams did their jobs flawlessly, which was expected as the witch had prepped them herself. Dark watchful orbs traced over every face that was to represent that of the British Ministry and their Minister for Magic. Until her sight landed upon two faces she'd hoped not to see again; Monsieur Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley.
Of course the two young upcoming Aurors would be included on the list; their rise to fame started around the time she spontaneously 'disappeared' or so how the Daily Prophet liked to describe it. The Golden Trio were no more when the brunette had left England for the more grand venture that was to be her life. Not that either young wizard ever bothered to try and investigate such. The only time they left 'well enough' alone.
"Madam, the numbers and identities have matched our recorded lists; we're in full attendance. If you'd like to make your way to the main hall the speeches may begin promptly." She whispered into the Minister's ear as her eyes never left the physical clipboard before her. Céleste only smiled in return before she abruptly changed direction and walked on.
There was little doubt that the evening's welcoming festivities would go anything less than perfect; Hermione had organized it all to go according to plan. The food was selected from the finest chefs, the music a complicated collaboration of both countries most respected of classical musicians and there was an endless amount of champagne. Literally; the brunette worried more about the possibility of international scandal fueled by intoxication than any other possible issue. Knowing how 'well' the English were able to hold their alcohol.
The brunette witch was dressed as expected of her standing; family and job at the Minister's right hand Lady respectfully. Of course she wasn't so obvious to stand out among the crowd. Not while two wizards from across the sea already drew so much attention to themselves by simply standing there as they conversed with whomever came up to them; the dark haired gentleman more than the face-stuffing bottomless pit. Hermione kept her back to the lot that naturally remained unaware and distant; she used the multiple walls of bodies to her advantage, and was able to remain in her duties all the while out of reach of the two.
"Well well, we have company my dear." Céleste's tone gave away the elation she felt for the no doubt troubling situation that was soon to fall upon the younger witch. Hermione barely had any time to prepare before the sounds of approaching footsteps reached them.
"Minister, it is a great pleasure to be here this evening. I speak for the entire party when I say thank you." His voice was deeper, just a bit but the brunette could tell. "I'm sure this week's event will benefit all of us."
"Oh I am sure Monsieur Potter. And you as well Monsieur Weasley. I see you're enjoying our exquisite cuisine. I'm glad." Hermione could hear the slight tone of condescension in the Veela's voice and if her assumption was correct a certain someone would be turning red right about…
"Quite, um I know this isn't very professional of me to ask but have you by chance seen…?"
"Ah, indeed I know whom you speak." Céleste barely had to turn her gaze before the brunette woman took the hint and appeared from behind the taller Minister woman. Her hiding place and 'notice me not' spell had been so effective until now.
"Hermione…" Harry said in a tone of wonder as he took her in. Ron seemed to do the same, if only more obvious as he stared; a blush encompassing his cheeks. She'd assumed her attire of a radiant gown that evening was accomplished but to warrant such looks...?
"Monsieur Potter, Monsieur Weasley. I hope the trip wasn't too tiring for you."
"Oh no, of course not. Floo is still the safest and easiest way to travel between borders. I do miss the thrill of a broomstick though." The dark haired wizard seemed to be doing his best to make their reunion less awkward; Hermione appreciated the effort however there was still tension between the three.
"I am sure."
"Blimey Mione, it's been so long and…you look different." Ron managed to blunder out in a mixture of amazement and shock.
"Your mouth still knows no filter, it seems Monsieur Weasley. I would've expected the Auror office to teach a grown man such as yourself some manners or at least expectations when meeting foreign figures but it would seem even that is too high a task to reach."
"What happened to you?" Ron looked like he didn't recognize the woman before him.
"Myself, Monsieur Weasley? I do not know what you refer to." And with that Hermione turned to her boss, face blank as she obviously dismissed the red haired male. "Madam, the Department Heads are awaiting a final word from you."
"Thank you 'Ermione." Céleste gave a nod to both men before she walked off towards the mass of Ministry employees that patiently awaited her. The brunette went to follow, when suddenly there was a hand gently placed upon her arm. She snapped to glare at it then to the face of the man who dared to pull such a stunt, the woman collected herself and in doing so, calmed.
"Remove your hand Monsieur Potter; I did not give you permission to touch my person."
"Hermione please?" Harry tried again as he quickly retracted his hand and returned it to his side. The plea in his voice reflected the look on his face. "We only want to talk…"
"I have nothing to say to either of you." Brown orbs glared at the both for a second. "Good evening." The two English Aurors were left to stand in the silence she left in her wake, the picture of her form as it retreated was the last to burn to memory. If green eyes could focus enough, Harry could've sworn he saw the resonating glow of a familiar mark.
Céleste was an ever watchful leader of her clan; nothing would escape her piercing gaze unless she wanted it to. This was exceptionally true for her eldest grandchild, Fleur. Since the arrival of the young Veela's mate and the coinciding end to the Wizarding War, the woman had seen her darling weaken in more ways than one. First was her emotional state; Fleur was edgy, impatient and highly irritable whenever the subject of the brunette came about. She wouldn't allow slander, insult nor mere mentions of her love from just any tongue but that was taken as a simple Veela aspect and ignored. Céleste knew better.
As time passed, the young witch became less interactive and more reclusive. Isolated by the very clan who risked themselves to save her and honestly the matriarch couldn't blame the child; logically speaking. While Céleste was the one responsible, no guilt accompanied the Veela in her actions; the end result was the desired one and she saw no alternative. Fleur had her mate, their clan and family were once again safe from the darkness outside their borders and life returned to normal. With the addition of one special young mind.
Blue eyes cast down onto the scene, where their kin's body continued to fight itself in solidifying a form it wished to use; human or Veela. The rational side battled the illogical instincts; wings protruded from her back, feathers molted, regrew and fell from her hardened skin as eyes flashed between animalistic gold to breath-taking blue. Such a vantage upon the high balcony had given Céleste a view of the entire garden; from the farthest wall and luxurious pool to the shadowed bench seats; where her grandchild had tried to hide herself from the eyes that judged her.
"Losing control of your Veela…disgraceful." The elder Veela whispered to herself. "Not willing to correct your mate and ignoring your own pain. Soon there will be nothing left. You will lose your mind, your love and with it…" Her eyes flashed over to the oncoming clansmen.
It was foreboding, knowing that her heir's position in the clan was being challenged day in and day out. Fleur, unwilling to force their customs upon her tormented lover, was taking the brunt of the attacks; their judgement, anger and resentment towards a weakling partner which always ended in blood stained claws. Céleste wasn't willing to watch Fleur perish, but she couldn't interfere when it wasn't her place to do so. Leadership would demand they submitted, her power and control absolute but that wouldn't favour anyone except herself. In needing rescue, Fleur's position would only diminish and soon enough her weakness could have her exiled from the clan; or if her mind was lost, so too would her life.
But there was someone who needed to face this truth more than the stubborn blonde. The blonde stepped away from the bloodbath that was to ensue, Céleste walked calmly down the hallway to a sunroom mostly unused save for one soul.
Hermione was reluctant to find any solace in the household that was her prison. The gardens were beautiful, the rooms extravagant and the air ripened with magic; but it was still to be her inevitable tomb. She wasn't allowed to venture outside the estate unaccompanied by Fleur or her mother. The girl wasn't permitted to attend any meetings of worth nor did she have any desire to and dinner was more an awkward gathering than an exchange of food and good cheer. The upper floor's southwest corner was the furthest she could find without the constant visitors or interruption.
Until that day. Hermione's body flinched from her single chair by the open window. Her book had fallen onto the floor and brown eyes widened in fear as she focused on the new arrival; Céleste.
"Child. Come with me."
"With permission I'd rather just stay here…" Her voice was quiet but somewhat firm. The Gryffindor pride rearing its ugly head before the clan leader and Céleste would've smiled at such a display but the tiny body shivered violently in front of her. Had her home become such a place of torment and fear that the brunette was left in a constant state of terror? That to survive in a place no better than the war she had just left, it meant hiding in a corner?
"Non. Come." She retained some patience as she allowed the poor thing to gather herself and meander over to the doorway before the brunette fell into step behind the mighty Being. They retraced the elder's earlier steps and came out onto the same balcony; the same upcoming scene.
The young witch didn't want to cast her gaze over the edge but the curiosity and rising calls of conflict caught her unwanted attention. As soon as she did, Hermione recoiled. Fleur was bloodied, bruised and most of her clothing had been torn to shreds upon her frame. Her once majestic wings were missing chunks of feathers, horrific talons soaked in blood and as a whole it was a disturbing scene.
"No!" The girl turned away.
"You will watch." Céleste's hardened tone froze the girl in her stance, her eyes unwavering. She couldn't look away even if she wanted to as the Veela elder placed a hand to the back of the brunette's neck. Its strength signified the power and control the woman had; both physically and mentally. "You will see what your actions have put your mate into. What she must face in order to keep you safe." The harsh words slowly dug themselves deep in her defiant brain, like every slash and tear her partner had to fight off from her attackers; Hermione cringed at the truth. It was those same Veela! It was always the same ones! Why couldn't they just leave her alone?!
"Stop this!" Hermione's strangled cries started alongside the flood of tears. "Fleur, please!" Her cries fell on deaf ears it seemed, the strength in her legs waning. "Please, how do I stop them? They're hurting her!"
"You can't, child. We are Veela and this is our way!" The dark blue orbs of the creature remained on those that battled below them, her expressionless face stilled when her grandchild managed to knock down one opponent who was wise enough to not stay down. Only two standing now. "Because of you Fleur has become weak."
"She's not weak! She's strong! She's your granddaughter!"
"Fleur is weak because her mate is weak." Céleste's shadow towered over her and chilled Hermione's blood; her body numbed with fear. "A Veela is only as strong as her mate allows her to be! Our place within the clan depends on it! From the day you arrived here you've done nothing but shun that girl and reject her very existence. Now Veela blood is all that stands between her and death…"
"No…" The young witch had seen enough fighting in her life. Enough death and chaos to last till the end of eternity. Why was there always more?! What had Hermione ever done to deserve this?!
Nothing. When there had been the choice; nothing.
Like a taut rope ripped at the seams, Hermione's tattered mental state vanished and created a vacuum for a newer, clearer one. Her inaction was the action; having done anything and everything in order to gain nothing. But now, as she looked down at the love of her life as she fought tooth and claw against those who thought her unworthy; those who thought Hermione weak. Why should they stand at the top when she was the one to fight for it? The brunette's heart pounded in both awe and sorrow for someone so bound to her, for everything to end up like this.
"Enough!" With a hateful cry, a blast of magical power escaped the witch's body in a whirlwind of motion. Céleste took several steps back, her hand had released the young witch as fiery magic burned her flesh. The cloth that hid the sacred mark was vaporised as the glowing flower shone anew; conflicting feelings and anger burning bright. Tears still streamed from her eyes but Hermione hadn't cared; she would curse those into oblivion for daring to hurt her love! She launched herself over the banister, the material that remained on her back barely allowed her any decency, the human landed between the blonde and the two heathens that still stood. Her wand in hand and the back glowed bright with their mating bond, Hermione wasn't willing to give mercy.
"Die!"
A crackle of fire woke the lounging girl from her daydream, the moving shadows of flame brought her attention back to the chessboard situated before her. The young witch had been lying upon a few plush cushions before a roaring fireplace; there was nothing more relaxing than being home after a stressful day at work. She had just moved her knight to a new position when the door to her quiet sanctuary opened and strolled right in was her dearest wife. Without any invitation the blonde witch had discarded her cloak and feminine short jacket before she draped her body over that of the brunette. A kiss was placed upon dark locks.
"Mon Amour."
"Fleur."
"Mmmmmm, why are you so cold zis evening 'Ermione? 'as someone bested you per'aps?" The Veela woman nuzzled her way into the younger woman's neck and she was rewarded with a low disgruntled hum. Fleur knew no one in this household could come close to beating the beauty in a chess match. Save perhaps her grandmother… but their battle of wills was perhaps one too frightening to speak of.
"I am playing only for my pleasure." She replied as she returned back to the board and allowed the Veela to make herself comfortable. Their bodies moulded so beautifully together it was hard to separate the two visually. The Veela's hands wandered as she played with the edges of cloth, her lips traced over newly exposed skin; Fleur was rather good at multitasking. Bringing her wife pleasure and listening to her day was one of the simpler things in life and the endearing Veela was always keen to taste her mate's delicious skin. Until two names verbally sounded and shattered the lust filled atmosphere.
"What did you say?"
"Potter and Weasley; apparently members of the Auror team assigned to this event. They seemed to have achieved a high enough standing in the last few years." Hermione replied in a dull uninterested tone, she idly missed the feeling of those hands while she contemplated her next move. Castle take bishop perhaps?
"Did zey do any'zing wiz you mon amour? Say any'zing?"
"They tried. A reminder that I am not here for some little reunion. Let us hope the remainder of their stay is just as dull. Though I have my doubts." The witch waved her hand for the chessboard to float away from them, a safer distance from her current entanglement and now useless as her mind was no longer interested. She needed quiet; both mentally and physically.
Taking advantage of Fleur's distraction, the young witch rolled herself over and now faced the breath-taking beauty. Her arms slid over toned shoulders, fingers tangled themselves in strands of golden hair. "The number of times I've nearly died because of those two…"
"We don't speak of such zings in zis house, 'Ermione." Azure eyes shimmered gold. A sight that was quite humorous to her spouse.
"That time has long passed my love; all of that is over and my life is here now. With you and taking that seat when the time comes." Hermione took advantage of her position to pull the Veela in for a kiss. The boiling anger behind Fleur's feelings on the matter seeped into it and before long their tongues battled for dominance and hands once again explored freely.
"I'll 'ave to take early leave tomorrow, zose idiots may cause more trouble zan zey're worz." Fleur spoke while she easily discarded her blouse and lustful gaze on her lover.
"No." The witch replied a second after teeth and tongue assaulted the brunette's neck. "You will lead your team as instructed. Show those British bastards just how powerful and eager for victory you've always been."
"'Ow I love your mind, mon amour." The blonde Veela grinned evilly before the two fell back onto the cushioned floor and gave into more carnal desires. Dinner could wait an hour or so to be called while they expended pent up energy.
Hermione was reclined elegantly in the sunshine, enjoying the cool breeze as it flew by; she happily eclipsed by the atmospheric element. A few handfuls of paper lay on the table as it stood before her and with a piping hot cup of tea, Hermione's worries evaporated like meaningless dust particles in the wind. While the Ministry was midweek into their cooperation and all that it implied, the witch decided she wanted time away from the bustling centre of it all; under the Minister's permission of course. With another paper turned over and done, Hermione took a light sip of the hot liquid before she became acknowledge the new arrival.
"Mother, do come and join me."
"I think I shall. Such a lovely day but I must enquire as to why my dearest daughter-in-law was out here when her study is more than sufficient to do all this…'work' in?" Apolline needed no introduction to the balcony of which she owned. The youthful beauty poured herself a cup of tea while at it as well.
"Being trapped indoors would be an insult to such lovely weather, do you not agree?" Hermione replied and not once did she glance up from her latest reading material; rude as it may be, she wasn't unfeeling either. The elder woman didn't speak because she knew that the words themselves needn't be said. Between the two of them, conversations had ranged from the lowest civil disputes of politics to the enthused tales of stories and truly such times were held in endearment; not everyone could keep up with such highly intellectual women.
"You've been doing too much."
"I hardly see a few stacks of paperwork as too much mother." Hermione replied, again after a sip and without lifting her gaze. Apolline for her part, didn't immediately respond but the air between them grew with silent tension. There was no escape once one was between a Veela and a hard place; so with some restraint, Hermione put her delicate china cup down and settled in for the conversation. "But please, do enlighten me." This was the current heir; not her wife. Hermione still had to tread with some caution. The seat wasn't hers yet.
"Mother's work isn't what I was referring to my lovely; I'm talking about those old acquaintances you've all but left behind in the Ministry to fend for themselves."
"They've faced worse; as I have. I'm sure they're capable enough of surviving in foreign waters of this depth." The brunette was ready to continue her work when a thought crossed her mind. "Well, at least I would like to think so."
"I never did like that red headed male. He was so… small…" Hermione childishly giggled at the way Apolline described her old, 'friend' so perfectly and the woman needed no further proof than what she witnessed. Perhaps a few tales of the lad himself didn't help any.
The hard gaze of the Veela's eyes were felt but with practice, the witch in question didn't flinch nor did she return it. Hermione knew exactly what the blonde wanted from her; that didn't mean she was going to give it so freely. Not this.
"You're at peace with this then?"
"Of course. I had to be, didn't I?" Brown orbs watched her tea swirl gently around the cup it was confined in. "It was my previous life or this. There was no in between."
"There is always a middle ground my dear. I thought you'd have learned that from my mother at the very least. The war had no standing for us and yet we placed ourselves on neither side." Apolline's response made the brunette woman stiffen. Not from the hardened facts but from the sudden onset of refreshed memories that flooded back to her of that final night. The blood, the screams, the illuminated spells flying over her head… that vile woman dressed in black…
"I chose my side." Hermione's voice was firm and that ended the discussion. However, throwing demands at a Being, especially one such as a Veela wouldn't be so easy.
"You did indeed but I am curious. How did you lose… all this?" It was a mere gesture; nothing more than a flick of her hand but underneath that, Apolline referred to much more than what Hermione appeared at that moment. Her past, her friends and acquaintances; all those she'd loved and lost.
The witch was a hard worker, yes. Dedicated and loyal; humble yet stubborn and Merlin forgive anyone who questioned her intellectual knowledge. The brunette was everything anyone wanted on their side but compared to the Gryffindor who left behind a life…
"Letters dwindled." She gave the response with little care, as if it was a passing thought. "When you become a member of a strange household, writing to friends seems less important than finding your new standing." Apolline didn't react to the clear jab but remained silent. "They continued for a while. Months at best; at least with Harry it did…he has this stubbornness. It's what got him into detention so many times. Even the letters from Hogwarts continued; restoration leaves much to be desired though." While she spoke, a small smile blossomed on her face… "In the end, they ceased and life carried on. Everyone grows up eventually and choices have to be made. After all; can't miss what isn't there."
That was the harsh truth. Hermione had moved on from her past experiences, her life in another country and the new family she was bound to, had quickly become her everything. Literally. Her partner was the centerpiece to it all but in the end Hermione placed herself in the position she was today. There were no shortcuts, no offerings or good will gestures; she had to make her stand beside powerful Veela and she did it very well. The closest position next to the Minister, an individual in her family and best of all, a powerful leader of the clan.
"You miss them."
"Missed them. Past tense. Not anymore. Their 'muggleborn' know-it-all is gone." Darkened eyes managed a single glance. "Do not mistake my intentions. This is work. They are in my past while Fleur is my future."
The garden was like a smouldering wasteland by the time the battle had concluded. Nothing left but devastation; burnt plants, crumbled marble, paths destroyed and red liquid oozed from every crevice of skin that took the brunt of any onslaught. Hermione's body was the single form standing. The ones that laid before her, covered in muck, soot, blood and dust of their battle were the attempted usurpers. At least in her eyes they were such. Bruised and beaten beyond compare; not to mention and more importantly, they were at her mercy. The three Veela hesitated to gaze upward. The brunette witch hadn't put much thought into her initial attack; the sight of her mate in danger of defeat by these less than scum beings caused the war hero to literally jump into the fray.
"Please…"
"Don't speak." Her voice raw, perhaps from the endless barrage of spells she had cast or from withholding the sheer terror of their situation within but Hermione wouldn't allow vermin to say another word. "You've already said everything. How we're not worthy; weakness in the eyes of the clan. Tell me then, oh almighty Veela…" Hermione staggered her way towards the nearest defeated and grabbed her by the throat. "Who is weak now?!"
"Enough." Céleste's stride was graceful as she gradually made her way onto the scene. The matriarch had wanted to watch on from above, the balcony held the most valued seat to the battle but when the victor sounded, there was little else to be done. Having senseless slaughter in her family wasn't acceptable; during battle was another story. "You've claimed your victory my dear, leave them be. They know their place now." Her eyes trailed over the defeated forms; the blood stained the grounds and the sight alone was ugly. How dare they…
"It's not enough!" Hermione screamed while throwing the useless life to the ground. "They attacked her! They tried to kill her! Us!" The witch pointed to her lover, the blonde was behind her and leaned heavily on the fountain's edge; in much the same state as the rest of them.
"And they failed. Enough said. Fleur retains her position as my heir. They lose their standing and that is all there is to it." Céleste's response did nothing to settle the internal rage that twisted its way through Hermione's gut. The very woman who had spurred her on, now said it was time to stop. Well before she had gotten her revenge.
"I won't accept it! These useless creatures treated us like we were nothing and tormented me every day I was here! I thought the hatred and fighting would've ended with the War! But now I see you lot just enjoy it for fun… twisted, vile little…" Dark brown orbs returned to her victims with mirth and a hint of glee. "Why shouldn't I do the same? Just a little more and I'll be rid of them…no more roaches crossing my path or making my day a living hell…if I have to stay here, least it'll be one less of an annoyance…"
"No! 'Ermione!" Fleur reached out to grab the rising arm. Her body ached all over, deep gashes were scattered across her skin like marks on a map. She had blood trailed over half her face and really there was no strength left to fight her darling in anything but she could not let the girl kill. Hermione immediately turned her hateful gaze onto Fleur…
The light that emanated from the girl's torso was astounding; never had Céleste seen that radiance before but then again, she had never known anyone to respond so violently. Hermione; a girl so innocent, so pure yet was so brave, had fought since the beginning. The brunette hated it; loathed the idea that anyone should lose their lives for meaningless ideals and yet there she was. She towered over another being, one so vulnerable and defenceless, ready to end it with but a wavering thought. Perhaps with even a hint of glee…
Céleste had to admit that some of the blame should fall onto her for what little part she played in this; she was the one that demanded the ritual. She all but blackmailed the pair into their current situation and by extension she was responsible for the witch's current lack of control. Power could override even the most innocent of minds and Veela magic was not one to be taken lightly.
Their bond was strong but it went both ways. When Hermione doubted her place in their home, Fleur's magic began to capsize upon itself and with that weakness the Veela sisters thought they could remove her from her current standing. The sudden shift of power that flowed back into the young witch wasn't what they expected and Hermione had all rights to take their lives without consequences. But Céleste knew, when the British witch returned to a sound mind that the guilt would sink her into darkness. The elder Veela wanted that the least and so halted the fight before it went too far; it seemed her granddaughter attempted to do the same…
"No more 'Ermione… please." Fleur attempts had turned desperate and the inner battle soon showed across the younger woman's face. She wanted so badly to right the wrong against her mate but in doing so that would only hurt her more. There was so much conflict. Where had all the voices come from? From the erratic pulse that radiated through her body, Hermione figured whatever influenced her judgement most certainly came from the mark. Bloody Veela and their cursed rituals.
"Then what happens to them?" She had cast a scowl to the pathetic forms that could barely breathe on the ground. As much as she pitied them, the brunette also wanted to be rid of them just the same. The warring notions were going to do her head in!
"I'll handle them. The repercussions for failed attempts are rather…delicate." Céleste responded with a certain tone. The matriarch was just as furious but her regal persona refused to give way; she gave the dismissal for the young pair to take their leave while she handled the rest.
Céleste watched Fleur carefully as she escorted her love back inside the manor. There was a shift in the air, sharp and sudden as it caught the Veela ladies unaware. Céleste would need to watch those two carefully from now on; her grandchild may be a powerful Veela but with a witch like that by her side… they could end up on either side of the delicate line.
"Why did I have to choose something so complicated? Oh right I didn't." Hermione twirled back and forth in front of her full length mirror. The luxurious item was a gift from her beloved's mother six months into their courtship; truly the witch thought it was more in vanity but every now and then the brunette did like to enjoy its uses. Her dress was a free flowing masterpiece of silk waves and intricate embroidery detailing that covered her torso. This specific piece was backless, which was an inconvenience for the young woman; nearly having to magic the thing to stay on her frame in a more appropriate manner. Brown eyes glaringly evaluated her overall look one last time before she heard the door open.
"Mon amour~! Are you ready for..? Oh my…" By the stunned silence of her wife, Hermione's self-confidence skyrocketed before she made a final turn and allowed the Veela woman a proper look over her rather appealing figure.
"I take it you like the dress you so carefully picked out for me to wear this evening?" The words were only playful prods to the blonde's ego; knowing they'd either be brushed aside or returned in kind, Hermione patiently waited for Fleur's approach. The beauty took her time doing so as she allowed her sparkling gaze to trail over every inch…
"Oui. Now all zat left are ze final touches…"
"No. I don't need any more jewellery Fleur." The brown haired woman sent a rather stern glare that was met by an equally pathetic and rather childish pout at her negative response. "This necklace is enough. Now, are we ready to make our grand entrance?"
"Maman and Grandmere are awaiting us downstairs." Fleur rebounded rather quickly and offered her arm to the brunette. Hermione took it without a second thought.
"Then we shall join them and get this troublesome event over with."
The cooperative event held by the two ministries had finally come to a close and Hermione couldn't be happier. All the avoidance was tiresome and finally it was but a fading memory. Really, it drained the life out of her to not curse the persistent Aurors away. Being the Minister's assistant was one thing; being a ghost hostess was another. She pleasantly greeted both her mother-in-law and boss at the entrance; the powerful family took a moment to collect themselves before their grand entry to the event.
The Delacour matriarch had so 'graciously' offered her home for the festivities that final evening. Although, not that half the high ranking officials from both attending ministries had even seen such a luxurious estate before; an intensive atmosphere kept them all well behaved fortunately. At least, from what Hermione could witness of the situation it was her family that did most of the intimidation personally; Apolline and Fleur being key factors and the witch didn't stray from her wife's side all evening. There was no real reason to. Céleste needn't her assistance and the blonde beauty that was her partner took every chance to show the woman off; albeit a few eyes trailed too far south.
Hermione took it all in shameless pride; she was the one causing a stir. Her beauty may be but a candle to the Veela's bolstering fire but seeing how those very creatures were at her beck and call…it was invigorating.
The young woman excused herself; having left Fleur to continue a fable with her growing audience of ministry officials, Hermione went to check on the condition of the party and collect another glass of champagne from a certain attendee. The woman was not a drinker on any occasion; she had a glass or so every other night with family events or outings but to down alcohol so easily was a sign of resignation. Hermione had three already.
When her Veela companion indicated approaching figures, Hermione, a keenly aware logistical woman, knew exactly who before words were spoken.
"Hermione..?"
"That is Mrs Delacour to you Monsieur Potter." Hermione replied without shifting her focus. "I hope to not repeat myself."
"Of course; my bad." The wizard almost stumbled over his words but kept it together, somehow. In turn, the witch sighed under her breath before facing the two Englishmen and whatever they brought. Finely dressed, actually having put in some effort to their respectable appearances, Hermione allowed them her time. If she didn't, the likelihood of a scene to follow was highly probable and it wasn't like Antoinette would mind.
"I hope you have gained valuable experience through your attendance here with the French Ministry; I may speak for the participating units and say thank you for your involvement." She spoke professionally with a bland tone, her expression nothing more than a polite smile. Whatever they hoped for, Hermione wasn't willing to give.
"We have and we'd like to give our similar gratitude to your Minister for Magic. This manor is truly a masterpiece. Remarkable. This is the Madam Delacour's, so I've heard." Well, the witch was mildly impressed with how Harry had grown in the last three years. The once famous child filled with misguided justice and foolish bravery was now an upstanding member of society; good for him.
"Yeah, this place is bloody brilliant. How many Veela live here anyway?" Ron said not two seconds after his coworker, eyes locked onto the body of the tall model like creature at her back. Hermione would've found his manner brutish but thought little of it; given the man himself wasn't so far developed in terms of mentality from a hormonal teenager. The Ministry worker held out her empty glass to which the Veela immediately gathered without a word; her piercing gaze was silently vaporizing the redhead.
"Yes it is. This has been the home of the Veela clan for generations and with continued care, it grows exponentially." Hermione was letting herself show a little glee. While she spoke to the two, a dozen or so heads turned in their direction, catching the redhead off guard and Harry a little anxiously. "The Delacour clan wasn't so prosperous until Céleste came to power; she alone brought many minor flocks under her care and a few wizardry holds to heel." Harry seemed uneasy around the brunette witch after noting her tone when reminiscing facts. What could've been seen in admiration and pride…it was almost egotistical.
"I've…spent a little time researching this clan after…ah. After the war." His gaze lowered to blatantly avoid the scrutiny. Hermione wouldn't allow any effort to bring up past events, but it seemed they would try either way.
"Well, then I hope you have given your gratitude for that too, Monsieur Potter. If it wasn't for my grandmother and her warriors, you'd likely be long buried with the rest of them." That certainly caught the wizards off guard as their stunned expressions took in her rather arrogant manner. While Antoinette stiffened in physically preparation to an attack, a hand moving to the brunette's arm; Hermione merely folded her hands together like nothing was amiss.
"Blimey Hermione…" Ron muttered more than spoke in appalled aghast.
"You seem bewildered. I had thought your preserved image was that I spouted numerous facts to which you ignored."
"It's just… I think we're more used to a friend whose treatment of others came with understanding, equality and respect." Harry replied to which the brunette only giggled. With a hand over her mouth, the once golden girl smirked.
"Equality? Oh yes, I remember such youthful days." Hermione spoke softly, almost with a nostalgic persona. It just as quickly vanished with her next words. "I'm sure you've concluded Monsieur Potter, that there is no such thing as 'equality'. A hierarchy has always been and will continue to exist in our world." She repeated his words with heavy mockery and contempt. "As for respect. It is taken, not earned." Dark orbs then turned and stared down the female at her side. The Veela's visibly shivered, removing the physical contact and retreated; head bowed low enough to be strained. To whom she cowered was blatantly apparent. "It is about dominance or weakness…the latter, I shall never be...again."
"What happened to you?" Ron's face hardened as did his gaze on the shorter brunette woman; it wasn't the friend he had to say goodbye to. "You were never like this…like them."
"A rather rude accusation you're making Monsieur Weasley; I would advise you watch your mouth when standing in my home." Hermione held nothing back in her resentful tone. Her eyes were almost black pools of judgemental scorn and the powerful aura building around her was just as darkening. Keen eyes caught the faint glow from her shoulders and exposed back; Harry knew exactly where it originated.
"We're not here to start anything Mrs Delacour." His voice strictly forward but his hardened gaze was on the redheaded man beside him. If the idiot started something out of emotional turmoil…
"Of course. Otherwise your efforts here will be for naught." Hermione replied without hesitance. Their stiffening posture told their fears at just that; or if it was dawning on them. "Shall I put it into words your pride rotten brains would understand? The most powerful person in this country; the Minister for Magic, happens to be my most beloved and doting grandmother. I need but say a word and your careers are over. There is little else to say..." She took no delight in informing them this truth, but it came with a frozen hatred; Hermione almost felt a reprieve on saying it. "Or, I can allow Antoinette here have at you…she's rather feisty when she wants to be and leaves a mighty scar."
The Auror men stepped back at the predator like gaze from the Veela at Hermione's hand; it was frightening that in only a few years, the brunette had gone from the sweet compassionate witch they knew to this…
"Now if you'll excuse me, I have some more beneficial clients to sway in favour…" Hermione was cut off.
"Your parents would be ashamed." A sullen silence encased them all. The dark haired creature watched the blundering male in confusion; such pitiful words actually meant something?
Hermione's reaction hadn't changed however. Her eyes remained soft, her lips retaining their slight curvature as the witch turned her back on them.
"If they weren't already gone that is. I become my fate gentlemen; you should accept yours." With that, the brunette witch led her little 'pet' back to where they were needed; the sway in her hips becoming more prominent the closer to her wife she stepped.
Two sets of eyes followed her form. Demoralization, rejection and anguish encompassing their features.
"Geez, who spat in her goblet?" Ron said gruffly, like someone had just bad mouthed his favourite quidditch team.
"Life..." Harry replied softly, eyes glued to the illuminated masterpiece that presented itself upon Hermione's skin. The last time he'd seen it, the witch was drained and irreversibly wounded. Mentally preparing for a hard life ahead of her and yet the woman before him wasn't his Hermione. She was a dominating entity, using power and fear to control others. Was it truly so easy to change? Unable to do more than witness the end of a dark childhood; Harry concluded some sacrifices weren't worth it.
Done and dusted! This one has been sitting in the archives of my laptop for so long. It just didn't want to be completed. Now it has and I can move onto other ideas! HUGE thanks to my buddie Harmonic Wisp who did a very thorough editing for me! GO check out their works on here and AO3.
As always; fav, follow and leave me a reivew!
Midmoon Kitsune out!