I've been sitting on this one for awhile now. And I'm finally posting it because I'm tired of editing it and looking at it. I have a love hate relationship with this chapter, but ultimately it will stay because it's important to the story and character development. I may come back and edit it more, but I'm not sure. Please please please let me know if I butchered any French. I did as much research as I could to try not to, but mistakes happen and I would like to correct them.

Disclaimer: Same old, same old.

Chapter 11

We can all agree that the human brain is extremely powerful. It is a fine-tuned machine capable of 1,016 processes per second.

The Veela brain is similar being only a fraction more powerful than a human's and capable of 1,018 processes per second. This means that the time it takes for a certain image to be perceived by the eye, travel to the brain, and then interpreted by the Veela mind is roughly 12 milliseconds. And while it is true that a part of this processing power requires that the brain continue to compile those images for longer than 12 milliseconds, in most healthy brains, the time it takes for an image to be fully pieced together is still incredibly fast—on the order of seconds at the most.

But despite the immense power of her incredibly complex and well-built brain, Fleur Delacour could not fully compute what she had just witnessed. She had been standing there for a solid 30 minutes; mouth agape, eyes wide and boring into the very spot where her mother and the Grand Matriarch had just been. The image of her mother leaving the room with the woman that had only recently been discovered to be a traitor to the very Veela people she had been leading this entire time played in repeat in her mind's eye. As if her brain were desperately trying to process such an image, but wasn't physically capable of such a thing, rejecting it and trying to reprocess it in a never-ending loop cycling viciously to its immanent malfunction.

Hermione had long since interpreted the significance of those events and began to grow worried by her French counterpart's lack of response. She had been trying to garner her attention for the better part of 20 minutes, having thus far been wildly unsuccessful.

"Fleur?" She tried repeatedly. But try as she might, no amount of talking, shaking, or arm waving would break the blond from whatever spell she was under.

Hermione also understood that this was a delicate situation. She could only imagine how betrayed and hurt the other woman must have felt after learning everything she knew to be a lie; after discovering the people she trusted most were untrustworthy. It seemed reasonable for someone who was going through something like that to need a little time to sort it all out in their head. So the fact that she wasn't receiving any response from the stoic blond wasn't as much a worry as one might presume. The biggest part of what caused her so much concern was the large amount of suspicion that could be drawn of the two of them standing outside The Elder Delacour's study as if they'd just uncovered the most secret of secrets. Of which they undoubtedly did, but everyone else didn't need to know that.

And while she did not fully understand Veela politics, it was most certain that they shouldn't reveal that they knew as much as they did about the Grand Matriarch's plans. Hermione wasn't super familiar with the clan leader, but she had experienced the woman's presence enough to deduce that the Elder wouldn't let anyone or anything get in the way of her getting what she wanted. And clearly she wanted all the Veela to be at arms. Not to mention, the other Veela that were out and about, meandering the hallways staring inquisitively as they passed. Surely they would soon grow suspicious and start to talk. Hermione needed to do something and fast.

So, without a second thought, she cupped the back of Fleur's neck and pulled her into a searing kiss with the hopes that it would at the very least distract her enough to move. It took a few moments, but soon enough the older woman reciprocated. Once the brunette had Fleur's utmost attention, she pushed the woman backwards into the recently unoccupied study. With a nudge of her foot, she made quick work of closing the door behind them and as soon as it clicked shut, she pushed the Veela roughly up against it. And by the very nature of this action, their kissing intensified. It was a marvelous kiss; all tongue and teeth. However now was not the time nor the place. Hermione needed to stop this before it went too far—because it was quickly growing into "too far" territory. And so, she disconnected their lips and attempted to push herself away from the hungry Veela.

"Fleur. We need to talk about this," she said breathily.

But the French woman had other things in mind. Recognizing her lover's restraint, a dark, animalistic door snapped open inside of Fleur. The smoky haze of her thrall oozed out and around the unsuspecting English girl, muddling her brain with nothing but want and desire. And Hermione was violently aware of its presence.

"Fleur. No—" Hermione tried with everything she had in her to fight the allure. Which was easier said than done.

"Pourquoi pas," the French woman finally spoke. Her lips close enough to gently feather the brunette's.

"Because. Well. Because—" the poor English girl stuttered. Each breath puffed onto her lips causing the thrall and desire to settle in further. It wouldn't be too much longer and the fog would be too thick and she would be fully tangled in the wicked Veela's web.

But she wanted to be caught and completely enmeshed in everything that was the blond witch. She was hers. And Fleur was hers. And nothing else really mattered outside of that. How could she turn this woman away after knowing exactly how her fingers would feel on her skin? After knowing how her lips tasted on her mouth? After knowing how good the woman could make her feel? But what about freedom? What about Madam Delacour and the Grand Matriarch? The other Veela. They are in trouble.

"No!" She cried out, pushing the blond away from her with as much force as possible and running off to the other side of the room.

Hermione's breath was short as much from running as it was from the overwhelming feelings brought on by the thrall. One of her hands clutched to her chest as if it would help the air flow more freely through her lungs. Not that it really helped. Her chest felt like it could start caving in on itself at any moment.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the French woman inch forward. With as much energy as she could muster, Hermione snapped her wand out before her. There was nothing but the sound of heavy breathing and wood wisping through the air as it came into place.

"Don't move," she warned with bated breath, "I don't want to hurt you, Fleur. But make no mistake, I will if need be."

The blond stopped in her tracks. And even in the haze of her own unbounded instincts, Fleur could easily recognize the validity of such a threat. From behind her hair, the English girl was clearly unrestrained. But she didn't look scared. The girl demanded space. And she would have it. The distance allowed them the time they needed to cool down and gather themselves. A few minutes passed that seemed like an eternity. But eventually, the thrall had completely died down, composure was found, and all breathing was back to normal.

"What was that?" Hermione asked. Her shoulders fell though her wand was still poised before her.

"I am so sorry, ma belle. I did not mean to use the thrall. It just 'appens and—" Fleur began as she plopped down in a nearby armchair.

"No. That I understand. What was that with the Grand Matriarch and your mother?" She clarified, lowering her wand and walking back over towards the blond.

How could Fleur even begin to answer this question? She hadn't even figured it out for herself yet.

"Je ne sais pas, Doctuere."

The blonde woman's sudden formality was not lost on Hermione. Given the lack thereof up until this point, the English woman could easily deduce that something was nagging at the other woman.

"Fleur, I know this might be hard for you to believe but..." the brunette began cautiously, taking time to form each word, "I think the Grand Matriarch is purposely pitting the Veela against each other and I think your mother is helping. Or at the very least she knows about it."

The french woman's eyes narrowed. The light that was usually found there had suddenly vanished beneath a thin film of tears that were being held captive with the threat to escape. Her perfectly manicured finger tips drummed rhythmically against the tight leather of the chair arm; the dangerous pitter patter lulling her English counterpart into a false sense of insecurity. It wasn't as if the thought hadn't crossed Fleur's mind. It had been the one thing playing on repeat in her mind since the moment she witnessed it happening. But something about the words being spoken out loud had grated at her—had made it so much more real than it was before.

When it became evident that the blond woman wasn't going to respond, Hermione stepped towards her and intertwined the busy fingers in her own in attempt to redirect the focus back to the matter at hand.

After a few moments of complete silence, Fleur finally spoke.

"I'm not saying I do or do not agree with you about my mother. And I am not saying that her betrayal is not painful. But we 'ave a bigger problem than that. My people's lives are at risk. We 'ave to do something to 'elp them."

The English woman didn't know how to respond. This wasn't her home. These weren't her people. This was a different culture with different rules and customs. Many of which she still remained ignorant to. And the blond before her looked as if she could shatter at any moment. One wrong word and there's no telling what would happen. She had no right to speak on behalf of these people and what was right or wrong for them. What would she even say if she did?

The faint sound of laughter and talking could be heard through the old oak door. Suddenly struck by a thought, Fleur raised a perfectly shaped brow. Her eyes darted back and forth wildly around the room as if she were uncertain as to where she was or how she got there. She immediately stood from where she was sitting and grabbed Hermione tightly by the hand.

"We must go. Immédiatement," she whisked, already pulling the girl halfway out the door and down the hall.

When they neared the French woman's bedroom, Hermione's heart started beating even faster. With the amount of passion the blond was displaying, the English girl half-expected to be thrown down to the bed as soon as they entered. Instead she was released. And Fleur immediately turned and cast the imperturbable charm on the room so that no one could listen in to whatever was to be said.

When she turned back around to Hermione, a certain fire was simmering in her eyes that made the brunette's breath catch in her throat as it burned a path straight through her.

"I 'ave an idea of what to do—" she started to say, but stopped at the sound of a toilet flushing in the near distance.

Both women looked to the bathroom door as it opened.

"Soeur! Te voilà!" Gabrielle exclaimed as she exited the restroom, "Excusez-moi. I 'ave been trying to find you all morning to discuss what you are wearing to the Delacour Tempêtes de la Nuit grande ball, and I came to your room mais you were not 'ere, so I decided to wait for your return and 'ad to use the restroom during my wait."

"I do not think now is a very good time, petit lapin," Fleur said softly to her sister.

"N'importe quoi! It is always a good time to talk about dresses, non? Now, Maixent is going to wear a light blue tie with a grey vest. Should I wear a blue dress or a grey dress to match?" The younger Delacour continued.

"Pour de vrai? Gabrielle, 'ow many times 'ave I told you? It isn't right for you to so brazenly embrace your Veela nature. It isn't fair to the poor boy 'hoo can't defend or protect 'imself from you."

"Tout le monde doit mourir un jour, Soeur. At least with me, 'e will 'ave the opportunity to do so feeling the 'appiest 'e 'as ever felt," the younger blond replied with a bright smile on her face.

"Last time I checked, dying was not a 'appy experience, Gabrielle."

"It can be when all you feel when experiencing it is love and compassion and bliss. And I 'ave been extra careful to assure that is all they feel every minute they are with me."

"Depuis quand? 'Ow can you—" Fleur cut herself off before finishing her original thought, "Non. I do not 'ave time to discuss this with you right now. Doctuere Granger and I need un moment of privacy," Fleur said, shuffling her sister towards the door.

"Oh. Je vois. You and your lady love need some time," she replied with numerous winks, "I completely understand."

"Ugh. File!" The elder Delacour commanded, pushing her sister out the door and closing it in her face.

"I apologize, 'ermione, I do not understand why she still 'as to be that way," Fleur said exasperatedly as she leaned heavily against the door.

"It's just a little teasing, Fleur. All siblings do it—"

"Non, not that," the woman said as she walked over and sat next to Hermione on the bed, "I was talking about 'er arrangement with Maixent. I 'ave told her so many times she does not 'ave to be this way. We can control this. She doesn't 'ave to be a life-taking monster. Mais, she never listens to me."

The English woman took a deep breath. She felt as if she'd been silent on the matter for too long. It all but exploded out if her at an ever-increasing pace.

"You know, Fleur," she began, "giving into your instinctual nature doesn't make you a bad person or a monster—"

"'Ow can you sit there and say such a thing when that is precisely 'ow you see me? As a monster?!"

"I've never said I saw you as a monster. You've always called yourself that. I see you as different because you are—from me at least. But never a monster. And I certainly don't see your sister that way either. Gabrielle has been so kind and sweet to me. And she knows about you and how you put my life above your instincts. And she supports you in that and not only respects, but protects your wishes that I remain unharmed. I'm all for working and fighting for change when you believe something is wrong or harmful, but...I also think it's unfair to call her names and attack her when she is only doing what is expected of her. Something she was raised to do and believe. You can't just expect someone to change simply because you want them to. You have to give them a good reason to do so. It's not enough to just tell someone to be different or think differently. You have to show them why and how through your actions every day until they understand the message. But their life is not yours to dictate. Just as yours is not theirs to dictate. You want to be a guide and a teacher, that's something else entirely. But you can't stop someone from being who they are comfortable being just by sheer force. And so far, you have all these thoughts and ideas about how a Veela should be and act, but what have you really done to act on them? Who have you shown—besides me—that there is another way to live as a Veela?"

"Now, that's not fair. Both my mother and Gabrielle know and have seen that side of me numerous times before."

"Yeah. But look at us now. We have been lying for weeks to your entire clan to get them to believe that I am nothing more than your play thing and that you are going to rid yourself of me soon. How is that change, Fleur? How is that any better than giving into your natural instinct? And most importantly, how does that make you any better a person than Gabrielle for not doing so? You want change? You have to be it."

The French woman's head dropped with the weight of her shame. Hermione continued.

"And. On top of that, you have no room to sit there and call Gabrielle a monster. You have no right to call yourself a monster. Because you don't really know what that is. And until you realize how wrongly you are approaching this entire thing, nothing will change like you so fervently wish it would. Using negativity to combat a negative situation will never breed a positive outcome—except in maths. But one could argue that, while adequate for many things, maths is not so useful in the understanding of a being's emotions."

Hermione stopped talking, feeling as if she had rambled on enough. She couldn't tell by the blond's absolute silence if she had actually gotten through to the older woman or not. But she remained hopeful that at least some of what she had said did.

After a moment more of silence, Fleur slowly raised her head until she was staring deeply into the English witch's eyes.

"I know what I need to do to stop the Grand Matriarch."

Translations:

1) Pourquoi pas — why not?

2) Je ne sais pas — I don't know

3) Soeur — sister

4) Te voilà! — There you are

5) Excusez-moi — Excuse me

6) petit lapin — little rabbit

7) N'importe quoi — whatever

8) Pour de vrai — for real?

9) Tout le monde doit mourir un jour — everyone must die one day

10) Depuis quand — since when?

11) Je vois — I see

12) File! — Get out!