This is chapter 2. Thank you to the few people who reviewed, favorited, and/or are following this story. I hope you enjoy it. I apologize for any mistakes (whether in French or English). Feel free to let me know if you find any along the way. Also I apologize if at any point my writing seems rushed or monotonous. I am trying to say what I mean in fewer words and it has been a real challange.

Disclaimer: It's not mine. I don't own it. I don't make any money from it.

Chapter 2

Normally stars were not visible from the city. The lights from the buildings and street lamps were well known to wash out any and all resplendence the sky might offer when the day had faded into darkness. But this night was the most glorious exception. More stars than usual were clearly visible in the heavens above and they twinkled brightly down on the town below, blanketing it in a warmth and serenity not often found there. They shined in alongside the moonlight through a set of big beautiful bay windows. The playful twinkling glints were enough to tease Hermione awake from sleep. She had drifted off sometime in the evening after she was sure Gabrielle had stabilized enough that she felt she could finally rest; or at least enough that she felt it wasn't necessary to keep a constant eye on the girl. She wiped what little sleep had gathered at her eyes and checked her watch.

The screen flashed a brilliant but solid 12 am. She had definitely missed her train and the next. She hadn't the faintest clue when the next one would be leaving for Versailles. But she knew she needed to be on it.

Hermione looked over at the two blonds from across the room. She wondered how much longer she would be needed now that Gabrielle had stabilized. It was then the remaining pieces came together as to why it was she had missed her train in the first place. That mysterious French witch had practically dragged her off in need of help, apparated them to some unknown place, and pleaded with her to heal a mortally wounded girl on the cusp of death. Hermione felt her role was played out sufficiently. She had done her part and helped this strange woman; not to mention she had done so at no cost to them. She didn't really want anything in return except for the freedom to leave now that her duty as a healer was done.

The French witch was leaning over heavily on the bed, leaving a solid imprint in the mattress beneath her where it had been holding her weight. She looked like she hadn't slept in days, still sitting by the other blond's side, gently rubbing the girl's thumb with her own. Hermione didn't want to be rude. She was fully accustomed to sick people and their families from her time at the hospital and fully understood how these types of sensitive matters needed to play out. When a person is in recovery, it is unbelievably common for their loved ones to lose touch with reality as they patiently wait through the healing process. That is what was happening here. And the brunette did not want to interrupt that moment, knowing it meant a lot to the restoration of the French witch's dwindling sanity. But she also knew her time and expertise were no longer needed. And while she respected the moment the two blonds were sharing between one another, she did not wish to extend this stay any farther than she had to.

Hermione ran through each of her routine medical checks, in attempt to once again gain the French witch's attention. A poorly timed reminder that she was still there and her job was done. Nevertheless, the blond did not give her so much as a glance.

"She seems to be recovering really well," the brunette spoke softly. So softly, she wondered if the French witch had even heard her. She cleared the gentleness from her throat, "There's...nothing else I can do for her really. Only time will finish the healing process." Her words were a little louder this time. Hardened in the hope that it might do better to grab the woman's attention.

After a few minutes more of tortuous silence, the French witch finally tore her gaze away from Gabrielle. The eyes that found Hermione's in a dull and almost lifeless stare were not as vibrant of a blue as they were the first time they had probed the brunette's very soul with their torrid gaze. There were rings and bags under them that indicated she was fighting a losing battle with the sleep she'd already lost. The blond took in a deep, shaky breath. Her eyes widened. She exhaled harshly as if it would expel the exhaustion she felt out from her body along with the breath.

"Come," the words were light and soft as she stood from her place beside Gabrielle, "we must get you somezing to eat."

With that said, she walked out the door.

Not quite sure what to do and rather surprised by the abrupt command, Hermione stood up and followed the French witch, being sure to grab her bag on the way out. A newfound determination welled up inside her. She did not want to return to this room. She did not want to get sucked in to yet another task that might deter her from leaving.

She followed the blond down the hall and into a little breakfast nook that sat across from an abnormally large kitchen. The minute she got there, the blond began casting spells left and right. The pots, pans, and cooking utensils promptly set about working away to create some unknown meal of their own fruition.

"'Ave a seat," the blond commanded softly. Hermione was only slightly rattled at how easy it was this time for her to give in to the woman's orders. She wasn't sure why she was sitting. She really felt it would be better for everyone if she left. The convention had long since began and she had already missed one evening. She didn't want to miss the morning or any of the other subsequent events. Her attending healer would be terribly upset to know she hadn't attended and she couldn't let something as trivial as eating just because some stranger willed it to be stop her from getting her healer's license. She thought she had been forward enough with the woman earlier in stating her desire to leave. But it was obvious the message didn't quite get through.

"Look, as I said before, I've done everything I can for your friend. There really is nothing more I can do here. And if I am no longer needed, then I'm not sure why I am being made to stay," Hermione asserted, hoping this time the French woman would not shrug her off or change the topic.

The blond ignored her completely. She zipped about the kitchen casting spells and assuring the food was properly tended to. Hermione's shoulders tensed. Her hand tightened around the bag she had been holding. This woman had done a right job of remaining mysterious since the very moment they met. She hadn't answered any of Hermione's questions. In fact, she had barely spoken to the brunette at all aside from the occasional order thrown around mercilessly here and there as if she were speaking to some enslaved house elf. Hermione was beyond frustrated. All she wanted were answers. And there wasn't anything she could do to force the woman to give them to her. Which only served to frustrate her even further.

"Why won't you answer any of my questions? I've been nothing but kind and helpful to you and I don't even know who you are, where I am, or when I'll be allowed to leave. I don't even know your bloody name for Merlin's sake," She snapped with a breathy hint of anger. She released hold of her bag to cross her arms across her chest.

Hermione would have never guessed that something as simple as throwing a small tantrum would be the one thing that ultimately garnered the French witch's attention. But it was. And it did. The blond wrapped up whatever it was she was attending to and moved to sit in the chair directly across from Hermione. She stared long and hard at the brunette, testing the unwavering confidence Hermione had come to find in the last few minutes.

"Fleur. Fleur Delacour. And zat girl upstairs zat you saved is my sister, Gabrielle," her answer was direct and short. She wore a mask of fortitude that covered any emotion that might accidentally appear on her face.

The longer that Hermione gazed into Fleur's eyes, the funnier she started to feel. As if wave after wave of some unknown entity were weighing heavily down on her very being. Little by little, the room around her began to tunnel inwards. The only light at the end of that tunnel was Fleur, who sat there before her with an almost smoky halo of light surrounding her. Everything was fuzzy. Her mind became absolute mush. She could no longer think in coherent sentences. Her heart was beating at the pace of a thousand racehorses, but she could not tell if it was because of this strange light airy feeling that had suddenly overcome her or if it was the fear it had evoked. Somewhere in the distance, she could hear Fleur's voice echoing, but her mouth didn't seem to be moving at the same speed as the words that were spoken.

"Now...tell me, Docteure...Comment t'appelle tu—what is your name?"

Hermione could hear the words but she did not register the question. The glow blanketing Fleur was so very captivating. The brunette was undeniably entranced. How could she not be. The French witch was so wonderful, so exquisite, so enchanting, so...

"Beautiful," Hermione sighed. It wasn't meant as a response; though it was most undoubtedly taken as one. Fleur chuckled, amused by the haphazard declaration.

"Mmm," the hum emanating from Fleur's body sent chills down Hermione's spine, "Okay zen, Docteure Belle...Let's just take a look and see who you really are," she said, that same amusement present in her tone.

Fleur reached for Hermione's bag that sat forgotten at her side. She picked it up and rifled through the numerous knick knacks inside before honing in on a wallet. Inside that wallet she found a muggle driver's license with the English girl's name emblazoned across the top.

"'Ermione Granger," Fleur read out loud.

At the sound of her name falling so bewitchingly from the blond's lips, Hermione slowly began to stand with an intense desire to be even closer to the French witch. She tried to move her legs forward but her knees gave out and she collapsed. She was caught at the last second by soft, nimble hands. The feeling of those hands touching her bare skin ignited something almost dangerous within Hermione. Her flesh felt as if the topmost layer was burning from her body in such a way that it would never know another's touch aside from the hands that were currently setting her aflame. Fleur chuckled again and stroked the side of Hermione's face lovingly, tucking a stray curl behind the girl's ear.

"Now tell me," she said, "Where were you going when I intercepted you on zee train?"

Hermione tried very hard to concentrate on what the blond was saying, but couldn't in the midst of the thick film that now fully coated every corner of her mind. The brunette closed her eyes and nuzzled her face further into Fleur's touch, reveling in the fire that burned at her cheek where the blond's hand rested. The French witch's heavy sigh was long and audible. But Hermione wasn't in any state to recognize the mild frustration it held. She inched even closer to the woman, seeking more contact.

After a moment, the fogginess in her mind dissipated though only slightly. Enough so that at the very least she could coordinate her thoughts and understand what the blond was asking.

"I will ask again, ma chérie. Where were you going when I intercepted you on zee train?" Fleur spoke again. Her forehead rested tenderly against Hermione's.

With her eyes still closed, the brunette grabbed Fleur's hand at her cheek. She squeezed it unflinchingly as if doing so would stabilize her trembling body and took a deep breath. In that breath she inhaled all that was the French enchantress before her.

"I was on my way to a medical convention. I was trying to complete my residency," the words came out languidly as if she were drunken or intoxicated. She could hear them coming from her mouth, but they sounded so foreign as if they weren't her own. They floated around the air strangely as inaccessible to her as the cloudiness in her head or the desire she felt to be so near the blond witch.

Fleur hummed in contentment, satisfied with the answer.

"Do you 'ave a boyfriend?" She continued to ask, toeing the line of appropriateness.

The brunette had been rendered helpless by whatever it was that had come over her, but she was not completely dim. Given the playfulness of the previous question, she knew somewhere deep down inside that the blond had purposely changed the tone of this conversation. This was now a game. And Hermione did not have the ability to tell Fleur she was not interested in playing.

"No," Hermione countered through the fog that was progressively getting thicker in her mind.

"Do you 'ave a girlfriend?"

A shot of something indescribably wonderful spiked through Hermione's body and will go down in history as one of the single-most erotic feelings she had ever experienced. It caused her reply to come in the form of a gasp, "No."

She was now leaning as close as she could to the French witch, supporting her own weight on the arms of the chair in which the blond sat. Her face drew nearer to the woman's so that her nose brushed along the line of Fleur's cheek. But the blond was not finished questioning her. She was not done playing her game. She pulled Hermione down closer so that her lips lightly touched the English girl's ear.

"'Ave you ever 'ad a girlfriend?"

The whispered words sent chills down Hermione's back.

"Yes," she hissed, her lips barely grazing Fleur's neck. And even though it was the slightest of contact, it sent even more shivers in massive waves throughout her entire body.

Hermione was so caught up in the feeling of her lips against the French witch's skin, that she hardly heard the faint coo of a voice coming from down the hall. The blond, however, did and stood instantly at the sound.

"J'arrive, Gabrielle!" She called out distractedly. Hermione fell forward into the empty chair, her head hitting the back of it with a palpable thud.

The French witch was gone in an instant, disappearing into the darkness of the hallway. And the longer she was gone, Hermione's mind was able to finally clear. Any and all of the obscurities inside her gradually withered away into nothingness. She raised a shaky hand to her forehead and shook her head of the remnants of its treacherous effects. After a second or two more of being alone, she felt relatively normal again. She was understandably confused, but that seemed inarguably better than not being in control of herself like she had been only mere moments ago. She did not understand what had just happened to her. It was unlike anything she had ever experienced. It was like she had been standing in an ocean amongst the tide that was constantly rising and falling. One second a wave would come in and fully surround her body. And the next it washed away back out to sea. It was like that feeling of ethereality after no longer being submerged in a tidal wave. She felt light. She felt free. But she also felt like she was being pulled out to sea as if the water's encompassment of her at one point in time had somehow made the two connected as one. But the sea was full of only water. And there was only so long she could continue to swim. She tensed at the thought of drowning.

Hermione looked down the blackened hallway. A faint light could be seen peeping through the darkness. She had every right to know what it was that had just happened to her. And she had the sneaking suspicion that Fleur was in some way responsible. She just wasn't sure how exactly. But Hermione Jean Granger was sure as shit going to find out. She grabbed her wand out of her bag and headed off down the hallway in the direction that the blond had went.

The door to Gabrielle's room was cracked open and through it she could hear two voices speaking to each other in rapid French. Hermione didn't even think to listen in to the conversation, knowing it wouldn't do her any good considering the fact that she didn't speak the language. So she barged in instead effectively interrupting what appeared to be a rather serious conversation. The minute she made herself known, four beautiful blue eyes snapped to the brunette's haggard frame in the doorway.

"What just happened to me, Fleur?" Hermione exclaimed. She felt safer at her place in the doorway and made no attempt to move; raising her wand to both of them. She was so unsure of their motives. All it would take was one wrong move and that would be enough to discharge the first of a long list of spells flying off her lips.

Fleur stood up from her place beside her sister, very delicately raising her hands in the air in order to give bearing to her show of complaisance.

"It is okay, 'Ermione," she said, sweetness oozing through her spoken words.

A relatively newfound feeling crept back over Hermione's back with a familiarity she did not think possible and nested itself inside the farthest reaches of her mind. She fought it with everything she had. She knew she couldn't give into it again. It made her do things she would never do; say things she would never say. But she was progressively being submerged by the second. There was no fighting it.

"It is okay, 'Ermione," Fleur tried again, walking towards the English witch and drawing her own wand on the girl, "As long as you are wiz me, no 'arm will come to you."

Hermione couldn't think. She felt the blond drawing closer to her, but her desire to get away was no longer there. She wanted Fleur to come closer. She wanted her to come close enough to touch. She longed for that same contact they had earlier and in all honesty, anything more the French witch might be willing to give.

"Expelliarmus!" The spell rang out clear and true.

And just as soon as it was spoken, Hermione's wand flew from her hand. Without warning, her mind began to clear and she quickly came to the realization that she had no wand and no way of defending herself. Fleur had somehow come close enough to touch but Hermione cringed away from her reach. Now that she had regained control of her senses again, the panic and confusion began to grow from the pit of her stomach.

"What was that?!" She called out exasperatedly. The blond almost seemed to wince at the harshness of her voice, "What in bloody hell was that, Fleur?! What did you do to me?!"

"Please, calm down," the French witch ordered quietly, trying to once again sooth the overwrought girl and once again failing.

Just as Hermione's rage boiled to the point of bubbling over, there was a loud knocking at the front door of the apartment.

"C'est la police! Ouvez la porte!" A masculine voice yelled through the only barrier between them and the women inside.

Fleur's eyes shot up in the direction of the front door.

"Merde," she cursed underneath her breath.

The blond raced over to the fireplace, threw in a couple of logs, and started a fire with the flick of her wand. There was an old vase sitting on the table next to the bed and she dumped a handful of its contents into her hand before moving swiftly over to Gabrielle. The covers whipped across the air and fell heavily to the floor beneath her. The girl that was previously beneath them was jerked out of the bed faster than Hermione could keep up with and lead to the fireplace despite her moans and groans of pain and discomfort. When they got there, Fleur dumped the handful of what was assumed to be floo powder into the girl's hand. They shared a moment of unspoken eye contact before Gabrielle threw the powder into the fire and spoke loudly and clearly, "Delacour Manor."

Fire erupted outwardly as the girl was swallowed whole by the large emerald green flames. And now more than ever, Hermione wanted answers. She didn't really care who was on the other side of that door, she deserved answers and she was going to get them.

"What in bloody hell is going on? Is that the police outside? The muggle police outside your door? What have you done? What have you gotten me into?" Hermione yelled frantically, running up to the blond witch just as she was preparing herself to follow behind her sister.

"We do not 'ave time for zis, 'ermione."

"Well then you bloody well better make time, Fleur. Because if you don't, I will march out there myself and tell those muggle police that you kidnapped me!" The English witch threatened.

Recognizing this problem was not going to go away and that the brunette was going to continue to fight her, Fleur walked up gracefully to Hermione and rested her hands gently to either side of the girl's head.

"Now is not zee time. No 'arm will come to you as long as you are wiz me." But Hermione did not feel calm. She did not like this woman touching her and pulling her closer. It only added to the further confusion of earlier when she did encourage it; when she desired it. She didn't want to remember that. She didn't want to deal with those feelings or this crazy French witch with powers outside of anything she's ever known. But Fleur was making it impossibly difficult to ignore.

Hermione struggled to get away from the blond woman. She jerked her head back and took a few steps to the side to try to rid herself of the woman's touch, but Fleur held firm.

"I am sorry for zis," the french witch said.

And before Hermione knew it, there was a sharp pain to the back of her head and everything went dark.

Translations:

Comment t'appelle vous = what is your name

J'arrive = I'm coming

C'est la police! Ouvre la porte! = It's the police! Open the door!

Merde = shit