A few A/Ns:

I am trying to make this story different from the majority of the Fleurmione fics currently out there. I didn't want to do another "they are mates and bonded for life, and if one dies so does the other" thing because it's really overdone. However, I AM using the word "mate." I hope it is clear that it does not mean mate in the traditional sense most of you have come to know. I will clarify just to be sure we are all on the same page. When Fleur says "mate" she means in the very base, biological sense that they are two people coming together for breeding purposes only. The Veela in my story have many mates and there is no such thing as bonding and mating with only one person for life. It is simply a means to produce offspring. Also, one reviewer was confused about whether or not the Veela dies when the mate dies. Which means I probably didn't explain it well enough in the story, but the answer is no. In the last chapter, Fleur had talked a little about why it was she thought that her elders had always taught them to never love growing up. She stated something that sounded as if the Veela dies when their mate dies but what she meant was that she believed that they force themselves to not love in order to protect themselves. That if the Veela allowed themselves to feel for their mates, then when the inevitable happened and the mate finally died, so would a metaphorical piece of their heart. And they would just have to keep going through that same thing over and over again with each new mate until they had nothing left to feel and truly became monsters. They don't die if they don't get their mate or if their mate dies. That connection does not exist. There is no bond or "pull" thereof. Only the thrall which is like a drug that is typically used for a Veela to get what she wants. And they often want to "mate" and make the little baby Veelas.

Some of the info that gets revealed in this chapter may stir up a little confusion. So, I am going to point this out ahead of time to try to prevent that from happening. I have decided that Fleur's mother and grandmother are not—in any way—high ranking officials in the Veela hierarchy. They are respected and wealthy members, but they do not and will not have any leadership roles. Don't have the expectation that they will be at any point in time.

Also...to the guest from Norway that reviewed and said "Really sad that she cant fall in love, live a monogamous life and have heaps of children and the happy ending with Hermione that Im a super huge sucker for." The story is far from over. And while Fleur certainly believes that she cannot, I (the author) have not officially declared it to be so. The ending still remains unplanned, but just so you know, I too am a huge sucker for these kinds of happy endings. Nothing is ever completely out of the realm of possibilities. So keep that hope alive, my friend. Because there's no telling where this will go. ;)

Disclaimer: It's all JK's. But I thank her dearly for letting me play every once in awhile.

Chapter 6

Onto the face of the brunette who was standing before a brusque but hopeful shopkeep there had crept a look of indefatigable shame. The kind of look that imminently forewarns of a non-native that is about to once again try their hand at French.

"Combien coûte—er...la pomme?" Hermione asked, holding an apple out to the shopkeep. He countered her stare with that of a Frenchman who was well-accustomed to the ineptitude of foreigners but who seemed to die a little inside with each new encounter he was forced to have with one.

"C'est quatre-vingt quinze centimes," the man sighed.

Hermione hesitated. He had spoken so fast and her memory was a bit rusty when it came to French numbers. Not to mention he was waiting—rather impatiently—which put quite a bit of pressure on her to solve the problem quicker than perhaps she was able to at that moment. She pushed the coins around in the palm of her hand, reciting the numbers she knew in French from one to twenty. For some reason fifty-nine was as high as she could remember and nothing she had counted up to that point had sounded even remotely close to what the man had asked for.

And then there was the fact that she was still so hungry. They had stopped to eat at a cafe quite awhile ago when they had first arrived at the market, but Fleur had been so eager to venture out that they uncustomarily rushed through what little breakfast they had. Hermione hardly had the time to properly sate the hunger. And the apple at the current shop she found herself stumbling upon by chance had looked so unbelievably delicious. The large red ball of sustenance had sent her stomach into an uproarious song the minute she laid eyes on it.

"Merci beaucoup," Fleur's insouciant voice drifted past the English witch's ear as a long slender hand reached out to give the shopkeep the appropriate change, "Come, mon trésor. Zere is much to see!"

The blond dragged Hermione out of the shop with a final wave to the shopkeep who was relieved to see them finally go. A few blocks down there was another little shop full of various odds and ends. But one thing in particular immediately grabbed the English witch's eye the moment they entered. A silver necklace sat perched on a stand near an open window near the entrance. The little silver bird pendant dangling from the moderately thick chain had red eyes so fastidiously cut as if made from the finest of rubies and they glimmered radiantly in the sunlight that streamed through the open windows. Hermione reached a hand out to touch, feeling rather drawn to the odd piece of jewelry.

"Zat is a Hen Harrier. It 'as been zee symbol of zee Delacour family for centuries," Fleur explained, doing well in her attempt to annunciate her H's. She stepped close to the English witch, joining her in admiration of the precious jewelry.

"Then why is it so easily found in this muggle shop? It doesn't seem very wise for a wizarding family to put themselves on display so openly," Hermione wondered aloud, eyes still locked on the silvery distraction as she took a bite of her apple.

"Many people of France used to believe zat seeing a 'arrier perched on a 'ouse was a sign zat three people would die," Fleur answered with a somber tone. It bothered her to broach even the slightest negativity in regards to her clan. But it was the truth and she had no desire to lie to the girl. Hermione took another loud bite from her apple as the French woman continued, "In zee Veela culture we believe somezing similar. 'Arriers are a symbol of death, oui, but zey represent zee death of zee mind, spirit, and body of a willing 'ost. And from zat death, comes zee birth of a new mind, spirit, and soul, carrying inside it zee most important pieces from zee one zat was lost along zee way. You see, we are unable to love in zee romantic sense, but nozzing can compare to zee love a Veela mozzer 'as for 'er daughter. We are fierce and protective. Zee 'arrier is a symbol of zis. And zat being so, it is customary to pass along zat symbol throughout zee Delacour line of daughters. To remind 'er where she comes from. To remind 'er 'hoo she is meant to be. To remind 'er zat she is truly loved and protected until zee mozzer's dying breath and zat one day she too will know what it is like to feel and do zee same for 'er daughter."

The French witch plucked the necklace from the stand on which it sat and held it gingerly in her hands. Without delay, blue eyes snapped up with a sharp ferocity as if she had just had a thought strike the inner recesses of her mind like a bolt of lightening on a sandy beach. In an instant, she was off to the counter to pay for the necklace and the next she was back standing in front of Hermione. Fleur held the striking adornment up before the girl and made to reach under the bushy brown hair in order to clasp it in place around her neck. Her voice was soft and uncertain as she spoke, "I know zat I 'ave drastically changed your life and zat I 'ave put you in a 'ard position. Zat every moment you spend wiz me is dangerous and unpredictable and I cannot express 'ow sorry I am for bringing you into zis. I cannot give you love in zee traditional sense. And I cannot accurately express zee gratitude I feel for your patience in zee way I wish to because zee intensity of my passion for you 'as zee most grim of consequences. But you should know zat you are very special to me, Docteure Granger. I 'ope zat you will wear zis and zat it will serve as a constant reminder of just 'ow special you are. And zat you will know, zat for as long as you want it, you 'ave my full protection from whatever may come."

Hermione found the gesture incredibly sweet. Mind you, she had dated before—though it had been a very long time ago. Her first relationship was with Ron Weasley and he most certainly would have never even remotely thought to do something as kind and thoughtful as this. Their relationship only existed out of pure necessity—because of the immense pressure placed upon them to assure that it ended up that way. Neither one of them were truly happy as anything other than friends. Fortunately, that's how Hermione stumbled about her second relationship when she quickly found she had an even deeper connection with Ron's cute younger sister. Now, doing special little things that would frequently take Hermione's breath away was right up Ginny Weasley's alley. And more often than not, Hermione found herself thinking how good of a couple they would have made had they both not come out of the war so unequivocally changed. Whatever there had been between them had ended on better terms than it probably should have, but Hermione had not allowed herself the luxury of any further exploration into the romantic aspect of her life thereafter. Her books were her life. Her study was her lover. And she found that not even they had made her as weak in the knees as Fleur Delacour was so effortlessly capable of doing.

Once the necklace was securely fastened around her neck, Hermione mustered up all the courage she could find and placed a prolonged kiss to the blond's cheek. The kind of kiss that provokes a certain tremulousness in how difficult it becomes with each passing second to pull away in a way that cannot—will not—be ignored. Her heart lept up into her chest. The world started to feel as if it were spinning out of control. Then, without further notice, they both disappeared with a faint pop.

The only evidence they had even been there at all was a half-eaten apple that had fallen forgotten to the floor.

Hermione's first thought when she finally came back to her senses is how crazy it was that something as simple as a kiss on the cheek could make her feel so disoriented and out of place. When she pulled away from the French witch she soon realized that what she felt wasn't due only to the intense emotion that was aroused from having kissed Fleur. It was clear that something else had happened during that time. They were no longer at the markets. Instead, they were standing in a dimly lit room that seemed to even out-lavish Delacour manor. And at the very least some of those feelings Hermione had felt were the direct result of apparition—or something most certainly close to it.

"Fleur! Where have you taken us?" The English witch called out, swatting at the other girl's shoulder.

"Zis was not me, chérie," the blond answered, her eyes growing big as saucers as she looked around the mysterious new dwelling. It seemed familiar to the blond, but she wasn't quite sure how or why—a side effect, she guessed, of having been apparated without any forewarning.

"But of course it was not. It was me," a voice replied coming from a shadowed figure in the darkest corner of the room, "Zough, Mademoiselle Delacour, I must say I was not expecting you. We 'ave been working on a new summoning charm—must not 'ave all zee kinks worked out yet. I meant to summon your mozzer so zat I could discuss your current behavior wiz 'er—but no matter, zis will do, I suppose."

The room suddenly lit up so that one by one the shadowy figures became visible. The first was Adriana. Hermione was unable to withhold her slight frown. The other was an older woman with dirty blond hair that blended well among the many grey strands peppered throughout about her head and a pair of intensely focused deep-set eyes.

"Grand Matriarch!" Fleur called out in surprise, bowing respectfully to the elder woman. The formality by which she addressed the woman implied that they were not at all related.

"None of zat, now. Come closer, child. We 'ave much to discuss," the Grand Matriarch shrugged off. She waved them over with a well-manicured hand.

Hermione clutched instinctually to the blond woman's arm, allowing Fleur to lead them closer to the other pair of women, but unsure of whether or not she should be doing so. As intimidating as the Veelas were, she knew this was a good opportunity to learn more about their culture and she was interested in learning as much as she could regardless of how much they chose to discuss in front of her. She understood that they were a private bunch and most likely wouldn't go into too much detail. But she hoped that at the very least she would be able to analyze their interactions with one another. After all, anything was better than nothing and there was so much she didn't know.

"Now zen, first order of business. I need you to sort out whatever issue zere is between you two because I will not tolerate zis dysfunction any longer. You," she said pointedly to Fleur, "I'm tired of following you around and cleaning up your messes. You are young and stubborn and make rash decisions wizzout zinking of 'ow it will affect your clan and ozzer clans zat you are allied to. You," she said pointing at Adriana, "I am tired of you coming 'ere whining and complaining all zee time about everyzing. You are a Matriarch. It is time you act like one. If you cannot, zen you should be challenged and relieved of your position. Now, talk."

Adriana quickly jumped in to defend herself.

"Grand Matriarch. She has violated one of the most important rules among our people. She stole one of my mates from me. She took what was mine and not only that, she set the human free. There is someone out there right now that knows some of our secrets wandering around telling God knows who! According to our laws, she should be punished!"

"Did you do zis, Fleur?" The Grand Matriarch queried.

"Oui, I did. But zat 'appened before our clans were officially allied. And zee girl 'as been taken care of. I assure you, our secrets are safe. I 'andled it personally," the blond answered, being rather vague in her response, "I am deeply sorry for stealing your mate from you, Adriana. I would never do zat to you again. Not now zat you are our sister clan. I do not want zis to get between our alliance. I 'ope to maintain a friendship wiz you."

The dark haired woman crossed her arms and huffed.

"Zere, you see? She apologized. It lives in zee past and it should stay in zee past. A wise Matriarch would rise above such childish antics. Let it go," The grand matriarch said calmly to Adriana, "Now, is zere somezing else or 'ave you not wasted my time enough?"

"She got in a fight with a rival clan. Her sister was wounded," Adriana said, glaring at Fleur. Then, she smiled a cheshire-like grin as if she had divulged some huge secret that might bring a most fortuitous end to that of whom she still considered to be a dire enemy.

"Hm, yes. Zis is a problem," the older woman pondered, "Do you know which clan zey belong to?"

Fleur straightened up. She held herself resolutely even though she felt anything and everything but.

"Non. But zey were small in numbers, maybe 10 or 15 of zem total. If I 'ad to guess, I would say zey came from somewhere far south," the blond gave as much information as she could on the unidentified newcomers. But there wasn't much to tell. The time she had spent with them was very brief and had happened too quickly for her to gather any more intel than she had.

"Zat is razzer troublesome. Zey would 'ave known zese lands were taken," The Grand Matriarch thought out loud to herself.

"Zey did seem a little off when we ran into zem. As if zey were fleeing from somezing. Zey were extremely jumpy. Which I suppose is 'ow a spell was misfired into Gabrielle," Fleur recounted.

"Oui. Zey would not leave zeir lands and wander into our territory wizzout a good reason. And it is not zem we should be focusing so much on. It is whatever pushed zem up zis way zat is worrisome," the older woman said cautiously, "Fleur, you will need to discuss zis matter wiz your Matriarch and tell 'er to see me at once. Adriana, you should send a team to investigate. Keep a stronger 'old on our southeastern borders."

The dark-haired woman nodded her head in affirmation, but she stayed in place eager to hear the older woman tear into Fleur for her blunders—of which she had still yet to do. When it was clear that Adriana was not leaving, the Grand Matriarch sighed.

"Are you still 'ere? Be gone, child!" She said firmly to the unwanted woman, who finally took the hint and stumbled over herself to leave. She apparated away as fast as she could without another word.

Once she was sure Adriana was indeed gone, the Grand Matriarch finally stood from her chair and approached Hermione and Fleur. She was much shorter than she appeared while sitting. But her very essence was so overpowering that it gave the appearance that she was much larger than she was and the brunette felt as if the woman were towering over them. A chill went down Hermione's back. She clung tighter to Fleur. Her hand idly played with the necklace around her neck and she sighed at the slight comfort brought to her in doing so.

"I wish zat I could figure out what is off about my new summoning charm. Not only 'as it brought me zee wrong person, I see it 'as also brought more zan one wrong person. Interesting," the older woman said, circling the younger couple, "And 'hoo are you?"

Hermione wasn't sure if she should answer or not. She didn't want to do anything to blow their cover. And she was smart enough to know that this woman was apparently in the highest of ranks. If she found out what was happening between she and Fleur, it would most likely lead to the worst of consequences. Luckily, she didn't have to say a word. Fleur answered for her.

"Zis is my current mate," she spoke boldly, but if one were listening close enough, the slightest of hesitation could be heard in her tone.

"Oui. Zee great 'ermione Granger," the old woman said, staring deeply into the brunette's eyes, "You are taking a great risk choosing someone so well known to zee Wizarding world, but perhaps we can make zis work in our favor seeing as zee Ministry 'as made it clear zey are no friend to zee Veela. Zere is no doubt she is very strong and 'ighly intelligent. She will make for excellent bébés. And it is nice to see you 'ave finally settled down and taken a proper mate. I will admit you 'ad me concerned when you refused to take ozzers. Most Veela your age 'ave a number of children by now. I like you and your family, Madmoiselle Delacour. You are a great asset to zee Veela cause. It would be a shame to 'ave to follow custom and terminate someone like you simply because you refuse to mate. But now I can see why it took you so long. I don't imagine Mademoiselle Granger was an easy chase. I will need to zink on zis—zee repercussions of zis—before you finish 'er zough. So do go slow for zee time being until I can figure out zee worth of zis situation, will you?"

Fleur nodded her head in acceptance. She felt very uncomfortable and pulled Hermione closer to her. It was then the older woman noticed the brunette's hands fidgeting fervently at something familiar around her neck. A soft, wrinkled hand forced Hermione to release the pendant as it grasped it gently; a single thumb rubbed over the ruby eyes.

"Ah, zee 'en 'arrier," she said. The old woman brought her head between Hermione's and Fleur's. Her words came out in barely a whisper, "L'attachement est très dangereux, mon petit. Elle va mourir. Ou les deux vont mourir."

The older woman's hands squeezed tightly to both of the younger girl's shoulders. She closed her eyes and as she did a thick cloud of purple smoke slowly engulfed the couple.

When the smoke cleared, Fleur's bedroom came into view. The blond turned the English witch towards her and rested their foreheads together tenderly.

"We are in big trouble, ma belle."

Translations:

1) C'est quatre-vingt quinze centimes = It is .95 cents.

2) L'attachement est très dangereux, mon petit. Elle va mourir. Ou les deux vont mourir. = Attachment is very dangerous, my little one. She will die. Or both of you will die.