Remember, dear readers, that everything post-Hogwarts and post-war has been altered in this story. If Hermione went into Healing instead of working for the Ministry of Magic, then that means she never had the opportunity to publicly fight for and advanced rights for magical creatures. Just wanted to reemphasize this point before we carry on.

Also, I would like to give a few personal shoutouts:

wkgreen: wkgreen, you followed me over from my other story and I can always rely on you to frequently comment such encouraging things in the reviews. You make me feel like even if my writing suddenly turned to the utmost of crap and everyone else stopped reading it, that you would still be there cheering me on. I just want you to know that I see you. And I appreciate you. :)

MissJuno: MissJuno started helping me with my piss poor French after chapter 2 was posted. So a hearty shoutout to you as well, MissJuno, for editing my horrible French so that others do not have to also suffer through my butchering of such a beautiful language.

Disclaimer: I'm not being paid for this. It's all in fun.

Chapter 5

"Fleur, can I take advantage of you for a moment?" Hermione requested, fixing hopefully onto the blond's eyes.

They were both still sitting on the floor of Fleur's bedroom in front of the bathroom door.

"Doctuere 'ermione Granger, you are welcome—non—encouraged to do whatever it is you want to me. My body, my mind, zey are all yours to do wiz as you please. Use me, abuse me—je m'en fiche. I 'ope you take advantage of me in any and every way possible," The French woman was a little abashed by her own words. A burning blush covered her cheeks that matched the vibrant shade of pink that also formed at Hermione's. The English witch cleared her throat, expelling her compunction with it.

"I meant, may I take advantage of your current situation, being that you are under the influence of the Veritaserum," the brunette corrected shyly, finding it hard to look into the blond's eyes after being at the receiving end of such a lascivious admittance.

"I will not like it, but zere is nozzing I can do to stop you, mon désir," the French woman professed. She would not lie to Hermione. And not just because she was under the direct spell of the truth-telling serum, but because she wholeheartedly didn't want to. The brunette's trust meant more to Fleur than even she was willing to admit.

It's not as if, in the beginning, Fleur had meant to be so secretive and reserved with the English witch. She had wanted very much to tell her everything she knew about herself and Veela's and what was brewing beneath the surface of the Wizarding world. It was just infinitely more complicated than that. There were constraints and consequences that came with revealing Veela culture to a being of non-Veela heritage. And most likely there was a good reason for it to be that way—like the fact that it can be very hard for someone who hadn't grown up in a Veela household to understand some of the urges, instincts, and customs that go along with being one.

If these things weren't handled with the utmost of caution when explained, it certainly left an unnecessary amount of room for misinterpretation. Simply put, while she wanted to disclose everything, her current position was not an ideal one to do so. She didn't want to reveal as much as she knew she was about to in as crass of a manner as the truth potion was forcing her to. She was concerned she might scare the English witch off and she didn't want to take even the slightest chance that she might.

Whether or not Fleur wanted her to, Hermione set about asking the first question, "Earlier, you said that it was 'that time' for you. What did you mean by that?"

It was the worst possible place they could have started this conversation. Fleur readied herself for the onslaught of inappropriate words that would most definitely spew forth from her unwilling mouth.

"For two weeks in a month every ozzer month, zee Veela 'ave an enhanced desire to mate. I zink zee closest zing to compare it to would be zee time when a 'uman woman is ovulating. Zough for zee Veela it is a lot more intense—like being in heat, I assume—but maybe not quite zat primal. I would say it is more somewhere in between zose two zings, really. We are very particular about 'hoo we choose to mate wiz. But if we are around zat certain person during zee mating time, zen we have an overwhelming urge to 'ave sex wiz zem until zee time is over and our bodies are satisfied. In Veela culture it is expected of us to act on zis impulse immédiatement. We also get very territorial in zat time. If anozzer Veela or anyone were to try to interfere wiz zee mating process, zen zere would be a fight for zee mate. Biologically speaking, it is a way to assure our species survives and is plentiful. Zough it does not turn out too well for zee being who 'as been chosen as zee mate," Fleur explained cringing a little at just how thoroughly she had answered the original question. The words had flowed so easily out of her mouth like vomit whether she had wanted them to or not. She tried terribly hard to read the brunette's face for any sign of discomfort, but Hermione was not as open as those books she loved to read.

"So then, I'm confused as to why you used your thrall on me. Why did you do it?" Hermione finally acknowledged after a few minutes of mulling over the information quietly to herself.

"I was under zee influence of zee Veritaserum. I realized zat very quickly. Adriana was asking a lot of questions, trying to interrogate me. I needed to get away before I revealed anyzing about you. If zey had found out you were not under my thrall...you 'ave to remember, you are not permitted to be in zis 'ouse of your own free will, 'ermione. It is against our cultural beliefs to disclose any information about ourselves, much less bring a potential mate into our 'ome wizzout being completely lost in zee thrall. Zey would 'ave taken matters into zier own 'ands. It was zee only zing I could come up wiz at zee time zat would allow us to leave wizzout question or interference from zem," Fleur was very resolute in her reply so sure that she had made the correct choice for the right reasons, until a playful glint sparkled in one of her blue eyes, "aussi, I couldn't tell zem anyzing if my mouz was busy doing somezing else, n'est-ce pas?"

Hermione's cheeks burned. She struggled to keep what little composure she'd gained back since being under the thrall hours ago. That was easier said than done.

"And...the reason that was so intense is because it is 'that time' for you," Hermione said more to herself trying to connect all the pieces of information together.

"It is zat time and you are a potential mate, oui," Fleur said truthfully. Hermione did a double take. That was definitely something she had missed before, though she wasn't sure why. It had been extremely obvious now that she thought back on the past 24 hours or so.

"You...you want to mate with me?" She asked quizzically.

"Bien sûr que oui, mamour. You are exceptionally beautiful and intelligent and zee ideal candidate for a mate. Between zee two of us, our children would 'ave zee best traits. Zey wouldn't be anyzing short of perfect. I can't even fazzom 'ow successful zey would be in zis world. It is almost unfair to zee ozzer children 'hoo would be born around zee same time," Fleur raved wildly with a passion that could set fire to an entire forrest if possible. Her eyes sharpened like a falcon honing in on its prey. She moved closer and closer to Hermione as she spoke. But the brunette was clearly far less prone to the idea and made that well-known, backing away quickly from the prowling Veela's advances.

"Ch-ch-children?" Hermione tried to keep her cool. She mentally checked herself of any evidence of the Veela's thrall but absolutely non was found. Which meant, that any salacity the English woman was feeling in that moment was very much her own. And it only flustered her even more to know that the blond woman's mere presence was enough to rouse such a reaction inside her, "We've only just met, Fleur. Don't you think it's a little too...I dunno—sudden—to be talking about—about...well, about children. We're not even in a relationship. Not to mention it's biologically impossible."

"Oui, mais you forget, ma douce, zat I am of creature blood and customs. Zis is not fast for me—'onestly it's not fast enough. But zis is precisely zee time for zis to be 'appening. And my creature blood assures zat our biologies are not zee same which goes to show you cannot be absolutely certain whezzer or not it is biologically possible for us to 'ave les bébés. En fait, I can zink of at least trois different ways to properly mate wiz you right 'ere, right now. 'Ow confident are you in your observation, Doctuere Belle? Would you care to test just 'ow impossible you zink it is?" The French witch purred. There was a hint of a challenge in her tone and she longed for Hermione to accept.

"Well it may be that time for you, but it certainly isn't that time for me," the English witched floundered shakily.

Fleur wasn't using her thrall—holding it back with everything she had—but it was clear she was getting to Hermione. In fact, the brunette had already had a taste of what it would be like to explore the blond in the way she wished to. They both knew it would not take too much on the blond's part to send the girl tumbling down that wall of resolution that was well formed between them. And the English witch couldn't say with all honesty that a part of her didn't wish Fleur would just do away with the niceties and send her toppling over already. But something about seeing Hermione like this hit Fleur hard like a brick falling on her chest. She pulled herself away from the brunette witch and promptly set about calming herself down.

"I apologize, Docteure Granger," Fleur spoke once she had shaken herself of her own base desires, suddenly becoming inherently formal with the English woman, "I am usually a lot better at controlling myzelf. I 'ave never been fond of zee life I am forced to live. I 'ave spent a lot of time fighting zis...beast inside me—'olding myzelf back. Because I do not like zee idea of forcing myself onto people. I do not like zat zey have to die because of me," she fell quiet for a moment, her tone somber and submissive, "Zough I 'ave yet to run into a potential mate zat has sparked my interest like you 'ave. You are quite zee remarkable woman. You are exceptionally good at breaking any and all of zee resolve I've worked so 'ard to build over zee past several years."

Hermione felt sorry for the woman. She couldn't help who she was. And she certainly shouldn't have to be in a constant state of war with herself over something that is only natural to her very being. The English witch knew what it was like to feel ashamed of who you are. To feel like who you are is dangerous to others. She was a muggle-born witch after all and she had spent a large portion of her life worrying over the impact that lifestyle would have on her muggle parents. Even to this day, she still often times worried over it. She looked over to the blond witch, who sat hunched over uncomfortably in attempt to keep a good distance between them. She looked so distressed. She looked so small. It bothered the English witch to see her this way.

She stood up and offered her hands out to the blond witch, indicating she wanted to help her up from the ground. The French woman looked confused, but took the offered hands nonetheless. Hermione lifted her up and led her to the bed. She plopped down and scooted towards the center. After getting comfortable with a cross of her legs, she patted the spot next to her. The blond smiled, crawling onto the bed towards the English witch, and laid down. Her head rested gently in Hermione's lap. The brunette wasn't sure what to do—or if she should do anything at all, really. The gesture didn't seem at all sexual. It was just that of a friend seeking solace in the physical contact of another friend.

"So, what? Does that mean you're hopelessly in love with me now?" Hermione said with a coy grin. Fleur's laugh rang out across the room, melodious in it's delicate resonance. Hermione's smile grew wider.

When the French witch responded, her voice was deep and over-exaggerated as if to imitate another person, "Non. Ce n'est pas comme ça. Zee Veela are not capable of love," her voice returned back to it's normal tone, "or so I've always been conditioned to believe. Zey did well to drive zat into all of our brains growing up. Zough I've never really believed it. It always seemed like somezing zey would tell us so zat we would never try to love, t'sais? Because for us, to love any one of our mates...it is as good as death. Zey die because of us. And to love zem...we would lose a little piece of ourzelves every time. Until zere was nozzing left to lose, I suppose. Zen what? Je ne sais pas. It is a tragic zing indeed. I guess it has more to do wiz zee fact zat we will never allow ourzelves to love. Because zee heartache zat goes along wiz doing so is unbearably fatal. Zough I don't know a Veela ozzer zan myzelf 'hoo would admit zat. I myself 'ave never been in love. You are zee only non-creature I've allowed myself to get zis close to up until now. I am far too dangerous for love."

Of its own volition, Hermione's hand absentmindedly played with the blond locks that were splayed across her lap.

"Wait. So you've never," Hermione tried to phrase it just right, "you've never taken a mate?"

"I 'ave taken but one. Back when I was very young and new to zee sexuality zat comes wiz Veela puberty. I waz unbelievably captivated wiz her. Wiz zee combination of my youth and inexperience and overeagerness to be wiz her, she faced zee same fate as all Veela mates and because I was so young, it was a lot quicker zan normal," the blond stared wistfully into the distance as she recounted her tale, "I took it razzer 'ard. And it waz zen I knew zat I never wanted to do zat to anozzer being for as long as I should live."

"I'm sorry," was all Hermione felt she could say in response. She wished she could do more to console the woman, but she had no experience in how to deal with emotional trauma. That was not exactly her area of expertise. She'd never been very good with her own feelings much less feelings that belonged to someone else.

"I am not like zee ozzers, 'ermione. I don't wish to be zis way. I do not wish to take innocent lives so carelessly as if zey matter less zan my own. And Adriana and zee ozzers, zey look down on me for it. Zinking I am weak and disgraceful—"

That had reminded Hermione of a different topic she had meant to discuss with the blond earlier.

"Who is Adriana exactly?"

"She is zee Matriarch of anozzer Veela clan zat 'as only recently become allied to ours."

"You make it sound like you're at war or something."

"Ouais, enfin...we are." Hermione's eyebrow shot up, giving the French woman one of the most precarious of looks, "Come now, you do not seriously believe zat everyzing was just neatly wrapped up wiz a pretty little bow at zee end of zee Second Wizarding War, now did you? Zere's a whole ozzer world out zere, 'ermione. A whole world filled wiz magical creatures 'hoo feel as if zey have won nozzing. Even zough zey fought in zee wars and lost friends and family to zose wars, and nobody did anyzing to 'elp zem. Zey still feel zee very injustice zat caused zose wars. Zere are some creatures 'hoo are vengeful and want to start somezing wiz zee wizarding and muggle communities. And zere are some of us 'hoo wish to keep zee peace. Eizzer way, zee whole zing 'as caused quite an upheaval among all 'hoo share any kind of ancestry wiz magical creatures."

Hermione stared off at nothing in particular. This was a lot for her to take in at one time. There were so many things she hadn't known before and now the information was just there; thrown out on the table before her. It was a little hard to digest. Two soft but firm fingers grabbed hold of the brunette's chin and turned her face downwards towards her lap until she met a pair of crystal blue eyes.

"I know you are using zee truth serum to your advantage right now and I 'ope you are getting zee answers you want, but zis is not a game, mamour. Zis is very real and very dangerous. I am not supposed to tell you any of what I 'ave just recently told you. Doing so goes against my entire clan and all of our allies. I would be punished if zey knew zat I did. And you," the blond took a deep breath, the words were hard for her to say, "you would be killed. You cannot let anyone know zat you know. You cannot breaz a word of zis to anyone. Please promise me you will be careful."

"I promise, Fleur," Hermione said solemnly.

At that exact moment, there was an emphatic roar that rumbled ferociously next to the blond witch's head. Hermione tried to no avail to hide the growling at her stomach, but hunger is not something that is easily ignored. And she hadn't eaten in quite awhile. She also hadn't really been sure of how to properly broach this topic with the French woman. Which is why it never came up. It was mildly shameful that her stomach had to be the one to announce the news.

"Mon Dieu, I am awful at zis. All zis time and I have yet to feed you. Un moment," The French witch exclaimed, jumping up from the bed. She ran over to a dresser, grabbed her wand, and disapparated with a faint pop.

In the moments Hermione had to herself, she thought back on everything Fleur had just confided in her. Now, she remembered quite clearly what she had been taught back at Hogwarts about Veritaserum. It was not a full-proof way of getting the actual truth of events that are told. She knew very well that it could only make an individual disclose information as they themselves knew it to be true. So she couldn't be one hundred percent sure as to whether or not what Fleur had disclosed was true from an outside perspective. But she knew with an undying certainty that the blond witch had told her what she knew to be true. And that was more than enough for Hermione at this point.

There was still so much more she was curious to know and understand. But even though she knew the veritaserum would eventually wear off, she felt as if she could trust Fleur. Which may sound dangerous and unwise for someone who had just been essentially kidnapped and brought to a Veela mating ground. But it was precisely that danger that drew her in—that made her feel alive. It seemed as if in her time spent at Hogwarts, she was always in danger—in one way or another. And it had all but vanished the minute the war was over and she had settled down to go on about her life. She hadn't realized until now how much she had missed it. How much it had defined who she was as a person. Fleur was quite the adventure. And everything about the blond was extraordinarily dangerous. The brunette quite liked even the mere idea if that.

It was then Hermione noticed that the French witch had been gone for quite awhile. And within seconds of this revelation, the blond returned, breakfast tray in hand filled with all kinds of French breakfast goodies. The brunette's stomach rumbled again at the prospect of being properly fed.

"Désolée for zee wait. I 'ad to make everyzing myself. I 'ope you like it," the blond said nervously as she walked over and placed the tray of food down in front of Hermione.

"It looks lovely. Thank you, Fleur," Hermione replied, a smile forming on her lips. She hadn't been particularly thrilled about the idea of going back downstairs among the other Veelas again and no one had ever brought her breakfast in bed before. Hermione found it quite sweet that Fleur had gone out of her way to take care of her.

Just then, the blond plucked a strawberry from a crepe on one of the plates and slowly brought the small red fruit to her lips, sensually sucking on its juices. Hermione watched her; completely taken with the way the woman so amatively ate before her. She found herself wondering what it would feel like to have the blond witch's mouth do the same thing to certain parts of her own body. A shiver made its way up her spine.

"You cannot look at me zat way, ma belle," the French witch said with a sigh, "It is already so difficult to control myself around you, if you continue to look at me like zat, I cannot be 'eld responsible for what I may do—or zee pleasure it brings."

The brunette quickly looked away. She was so tired of blushing. Her entire face was hot and she wished she could remove her head from her neck and dunk it in a bucket of ice for awhile so that it could cool down.

"I'm so sorry," Hermione said, though it was hard to hear because she had averted her head so far away. Fleur's soft hand grazed her cheek, gently pulling the brunette's face towards her.

"Do not be sorry, 'ermione. Not at all," she spoke softly and sweetly, "J'adore when you look at me zat way. And to know zat—well, to know zat it is really you looking at me like zat...it means so much to me. Please do not punish yourself for it. Blame zee Veela in me. She is ravenous and out of control and it is becoming too 'ard to contain 'er as it is. When she dies down, I don't want to spend a single moment wizzout you looking at me zat way."

The French woman placed the lightest of kisses to Hermione's lips, making the brunette's eyes flutter shut at the sweetness of it. It was much unlike their first kiss. But what it lacked in passion and desire, it made up for in significance and promise.

"'Ow about you finish your breakfast and zen we will go to zee markets. Get out of zis stuffy old 'ouse for awhile. Get some fresh air. Ça te dit?" Fleur changed the subject, trying to lighten the load of the heaviness that was palpable about the room.

"Yes. I think I'd like that."

Translations:

je m'en fiche = I don't care/I don't give a damn

mon désir = my desire

n'est-ce pas = Right?/Isn't that so?

Bien sûr que oui = yes, of course

Mamour = my love

Ma douce = my sweet

En fait = in fact

Non. Ce n'est pas comme ça = No. It is not like that.

t'sais = ya know?

Je ne sais pas = I don't know

Ouais, enfin = Yeah, well

Désolée = Sorry

J'adore = I adore

Ça te dit = You up for it?