A/N: Happy Pride everyone!

In case you were wondering, I'm using a mix of book and movie canon along with my own divergences for this series, but one of the things I'll stick with from the book is no scarred word on Hermione's arm. I just didn't want to use that movie addition this time. Not really relevant to this particular chapter but I wanted to put that out there before I forgot to mention it.

Dialogue in bold means they're speaking in French

You probably will get more out of this chapter if you've read I Only Have Eyes For You

Enjoy!

Chapter 3

Fleur drinks the last of her water and sighs as she holds the empty glass to her chest, the fingers of her free hand lightly tapping the open photo album on the table in front of her. After she finished straightening up the bedrooms, she went to the kitchen for a short break. She looks out the window. The rain has stopped. Pursing her lips, she puts the glass down, deciding to finish the inside of the house before going outside. Magic will make scouring the bathrooms, kitchen, and floors take less time. She doesn't have all day.

The attack at her wedding destroyed the official photographer's camera but Molly managed to collect photographs from several wedding guests. Most of those are in a small wedding album they keep on a shelf in the living room, but Fleur put a few in this one which she stores tucked away in her wardrobe.

It's an album she started as a teenager. More like a scrapbook, it contains mementos and pictures from her time at Beauxbatons, Daily Prophet clippings from the tournament, mainly the ones that had pictures of Cedric, and other memories that she likes to keep to herself. The photograph she was looking at was of people dancing. It's not a very good picture, Fleur doesn't even remember who the people are in the foreground, but there are a couple of seconds when a few dancing couples move in such a way that provides a clear view of her and Hermione smiling at each other as they spin out of frame.

She takes another glance at the page and closes the book. A wave of her wand sends it flying upstairs to a growing stack on her dresser.

Getting up, Fleur pockets her wand, re-ties her ponytail, straightens her grey t-shirt and wipes her hands on her jeans. She leaves the kitchen and goes up the stairs to the bathroom at the end of the hall next to her bedroom.

Fleur has always been observant, and takes pride in her good judge of character and ability to compile details about the people around her, whether they be family, friends and acquaintances, colleagues, rivals, or foes.

At Hogwarts, she applied these skills to learn about Cedric, and also learn about her fellow champions. Because of this, and by the nature of being Harry Potter's friend, she noticed Hermione Granger early on in the schoolyear.

Fleur thought she was a cute bookworm. Her efforts with S.P.E.W. were admirable, if a bit misguided, the Ravenclaw students she got to know spoke highly of her, and there was a focused intelligence about her that she found attractive. But the witch was young, and gossip swirled around her. She supposed those Daily Prophet articles didn't help, but even before the articles there was some talk on the nature of the girl's friendship with Harry. Her interest was piqued when Hermione attended the ball with Viktor. Many more important things occupied her mind that year, however, and those early impressions of the girl faded.

Over the ensuing years, she noticed Hermione again, and with more appreciation than she let on, but she was involved with Bill then and the girl obviously disliked her. Still, Fleur noted that Hermione was growing into an impressive young woman who would hopefully soon realize she could find a better match than the Weasley boy she was pining over.

On the day of her wedding, Fleur's attention was again caught by the bookworm. When Ginny danced with her, and then brought her over to dance with Hermione, Fleur actually looked forward to it. Not just to dance with a pretty witch but to take advantage of the extended olive branch and set aside whatever teenage jealousies Hermione held against her. She had few friendships here in England and she had a feeling they could have a close one.

::

"You told us that you love him."

Fleur's mother's voice cuts into her tumultuous emotions and immediately puts her on guard. Thankfully the older woman has the good sense to speak quietly in French. She turns towards the empty bridal table and regrets moving here to her parents' table, but Bill left to talk with friends and she didn't want to sit alone. At least her grandmother declined the invitation, citing her disappointment in a granddaughter who would deny her heritage and true happiness with a mate.

"I did. I do," hissed Fleur under breath. In spite of herself, her eyes wander. Hermione is dancing with Ginny. Then she remembers that her mother is watching and looks away. Smoothing her features, her hand nonchalantly toys with the wine glass in front of her.

Apolline Delacour isn't fooled.

"If that were true, you wouldn't have responded so strongly to Miss Granger, hm?"

The blood drains from Fleur's face.

"I don't know what you mean," she says.

Her mother tuts disapprovingly and exchanges a look with Fleur's father, who proceeds to engage a bored Gabrielle in an animated discussion about quidditch. Her little sister has recently developed an interest in the sport and wants a new broom.

Turning back to Fleur, Apolline's blue eyes pierce into her oldest daughter.

"I am not blind, Fleur Isabelle. I know exactly what you discovered out there on that dancefloor." At the end of the sentence, the older Veela waves a hand towards Hermione and Ginny. "The question is what are you going to do about it?"

Her gaze drops in defeat. There's no point in denying it.

"I will do nothing," admits Fleur quietly. "I'm married. And she is in a relationship with my brother-in-law."

Fleur doesn't like how her chest tightens at those words.

Apolline sighs in frustration. A hand reaches for hers.

"What about how she reacted to you? You know as well as I what that means. You know what you could have with her."

Contrary to the earlier reproach, Apolline's tone is now gentle and entreating. She only wants Fleur to be happy. Looking up, she sees her mother turn to her father, sees the fullness of their love in that one glance. And Fleur recalls Hermione in her arms. How alluring she was, blushing and breathless. It's true. Hermione wouldn't have responded so strongly if her heart belonged to someone else.

And if Fleur felt half as much for Bill as he felt for her, well, she and her mother wouldn't be having this conversation in the first place.

But she has made promises. To herself. To Bill. Merde, she's just gotten married. And on the same day, she discovers a potential mate who also happens to be Harry Potter's best friend?

The danger Hermione is in hits her like an express train.

"Leave it alone, maman. My choices are my own," Fleur says, standing up and looking for Bill. He's outside the tent speaking with Nymphadora. Even with the scars on his face, Bill is still so dashingly handsome and he loves her. She focuses on her commitment. His reliability. The predictability being with him provides. It's enough. He's enough.

::

Fleur spoke firmly as she left her mother to go to Bill, but her thoughts were another matter. Standing beside him, trying to draw strength from his compassion and devotion, she couldn't shake the feelings the younger witch awakened in her.

At their first touch, she felt that familiar tingle and surge of attraction, and the shock of it knocked her off balance. The American girl and Cedric were surprises, too, but they were strangers when she identified them. Hermione was different. She knew Hermione.

The smart thing would've been to pull back her hand, offer her apologies, and walk away. Ginny and Hermione didn't have a very high opinion of her anyway. One more strike against her would be nothing.

But with Hermione's hand in hers, she chose to lean into the moment.

And Fleur has spent countless hours over the last year analyzing that decision.

Maybe it was the joy and laughter that surrounded her. Bill danced with others, even an ex-girlfriend of his, and she danced so little up until that point. What was a little harmless fun to make up for not having an enterrement de vie de jeune fille? It wasn't like she was going to let anything untoward happen.

Muting the warning in her head that said she was playing with fire, Fleur drew Hermione out onto the dancefloor.

Once there, their hands parted, and the magic of a mate's first touch ended. Unexpectedly, her attraction to the girl stayed just as strong. They could've continued dancing without touching yet Fleur impulsively pulled the witch closer. Hermione was just so irresistible; she couldn't help herself. And when the witch's hands resumed their skin-to-skin contact by settling on her bare shoulders, the rush returned, and her heart beat in a way it hadn't since Cedric.

It was unusual for the magic to return like that, but not unheard of. The magic of a mate's first touch has been known to linger if the couple remain in proximity for a few minutes before reengaging contact. And if that happens, the attraction between the two will deepen as if it were the first touch for as long as skin-to-skin contact is near constant.

Although Hermione expected the dance to end after one song, Fleur asked for another, making up an excuse about liking slow songs. To her delight, the girl went along willingly. Wanting to enjoy those sensations in relative privacy, she moved their dance to an area away from Bill and Hermione's friends.

The longer Fleur held her the more she could see Hermione struggle with her attraction. The flashes of want on her face, the warmth of her fingers along her back, it was all so intoxicating, and the temptation to tell her grew. To tell her everything she was feeling, the exhilaration, the terrifying and heart-pounding feeling of free fall as they inched closer.

Attraction soon turned to desire. When Fleur caught herself staring at pink lips, she became embarrassed and concerned over what the witch would think of her. To her astonishment, honey-brown eyes looked at her with such soft depths, and then she closed them and started to lean forward. Fleur was stunned, wondering if the brunette interpreted her staring as an invitation for a kiss. Unsure how she would respond if that was indeed the girl's intent, her breath hitched, and the sound brought Hermione back to herself, nearly ending their dance altogether.

The next moments were a blur of Fleur trying to prolong the bubble they were in for as long as possible and knowing that doing so risked losing herself in it.

Asking about Ron was more a reminder to them both than a genuine query for information. While the strength of Hermione's reaction to her clearly meant she wasn't in love with him, Fleur also saw the conflict in her eyes. The questions she would have to answer. The complications that would result. Passion and perfect compatibility weren't the only things that mattered. She argued that very thing with herself before she accepted Bill's marriage proposal. Everyone spoke about Ron and Hermione as if it were only a matter of time. They had history together, ties forged in blood and friendship that weren't so easily dismissed. And Fleur was married. She had no business coming between them.

When the song ended and Bill came over, her relief was palpable. Fleur hid behind her mask, trying to ignore the confusion and hurt this caused in the witch.

Unfortunately, her relief was short-lived. The reception was far from over and she couldn't stop thinking about Hermione. How intense the attraction was, how incredible it felt to be in her arms. She could scarcely blame her mother for pointing it out.

Running from her mother to Bill was an attempt to ground herself in her choice, clinging to him as her thoughts roiled.

And then Hermione danced with Ron.

It instantly set her on edge, causing Fleur to move away from Bill so she could seethe on her own. It was irrational to feel so possessive considering her earlier reminder to stay out of their relationship. The rare times she felt jealous over Cedric and Cho were never that strong, certainly not to the point where she considered interfering, but for some reason seeing Hermione with Ron made her want to throw caution to the wind.

Their eyes met after the witch stumbled away from her dance, and fire and urgency began to burn in Hermione's gaze.

The ferocity and determination directed at Fleur lessened her fear and increased her resolve to tell the witch whatever she wanted to know.

Even if nothing came of it.

Even if it led to the worst possible end.

Hermione started towards her and Fleur braced herself for the confrontation.

::

"The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming."

The patronus is followed by screams and the sounds of people disapparating. Masked figures arrive. It's not a dedicated battle, only a skirmish designed to terrorize, but Fleur knows they're also looking for Harry which means the danger is very real.

She loses sight of Hermione and charges forward with her wand drawn, but someone grabs her arm. She's about to punch whoever it is when Bill pulls her closer.

"We have to protect the guests," he says frantically. "Give them time."

Her eyes widen and she spins around. She sees her parents and Gabrielle with her cousins. Her mother nods at her before they disapparate, following their previously agreed upon plan in the event of an attack to go to Shell Cottage and floo from there to France.

Amidst the chaos, she sees Harry still in his 'Barny' disguise desperately running around people.

"Protego!" Tonks yells, shielding a group of elderly guests as they compose themselves enough to disapparate.

Fleur keeps looking around for Hermione and then sees her just as Ron reaches her, stretching out his hand to take hers. She tears her eyes away, satisfied that the girl is safe for now.

In the corner of her eye, Fleur sees Harry running towards his friends, but then she's distracted by a couple of young teens scrambling to get to their parents. She casts a shield over them, blocking a spell that was headed their way.

"They're gone," Bill exclaims behind her.

Her heart stops as she turns back to where Hermione was standing.

Gone. And she didn't even get a chance…

Swallowing hard and nodding to herself that it's better this way, Fleur concentrates on helping others get to safety.

::

Hours later, after the Death Eaters finished with their interrogations, and Arthur and Molly ushered them home, Fleur sits in her new bedroom at Shell Cottage in front of the old vanity, carefully removing Muriel's tiara from her hair and placing it next to the folded note from her father saying they were safe.

Much of the furniture, décor, and trinkets came with the house. Very few of her own things surround her; unsurprising given she brought little with her when she first moved to this country.

She's still in her wedding dress. Bill is pacing behind her, muttering phrases about his brother and Harry, telling himself they're okay. She feels his concern but she's barely paying attention. The adrenaline from earlier has long ago dissipated, leaving behind exhaustion, a feeling of loss, and guilt.

A hand on her shoulder breaks her reverie. It moves up to her neck and Fleur finds herself pulling away instead of leaning in to his touch like she usually does. At his enquiring reflection in the mirror, she exaggerates a sigh.

"I'm tired, William. Do you mind if we just sleep?"

"Not at all," Bill answers, his expression softening at her request. "I'm still a bit wound up myself. Think I'll go downstairs for a while, double-check the floo has been disconnected. Cast some additional protective wards. I love you."

He kisses her on the top of her head, and she replies faintly, "Love you, too."

After he leaves the room, Fleur sags in her seat. She frowns as she stares in the mirror, again scolding herself for what nearly happened with Hermione.

A slip. That's all. A selfish indulgence which went too far but is now over and done with.

It doesn't matter that she's identified another potential mate. It was bound to happen sooner or later. Nothing has to change. There's no need to tell Bill.

All she has to do is help the cause, help Harry if she can, and above all, stop thinking about Hermione Granger.

::

Despite those initial bumps, Fleur stepped into newlywed life quite easily. The quiet and solitude of the coast appealed to her, even if it was boring at times as they waited on tasks from the Order. Unfortunately, she didn't have work to keep her distracted since she had to quit Gringotts over worries the Ministry would begin targeting those with creature heritage. But it was warmer in this part of the country, especially in the summer. And Bill let her manage the household the way she wanted.

She could pat herself on the back, job well done, no dwelling at all on things or people she shouldn't, her heart protected just as she intended.

The first cracks in her flawless veneer formed when Bill's younger brother arrived.

Bill lit into Ron the first couple of days, saving the boy from her own wrath, but then her husband let it go and told Fleur his brother's guilt was enough punishment. She vehemently disagreed.

How could he abandon them like that? Where was his loyalty to Harry? Where was his love for Hermione?

Fleur nearly disintegrates the tiles in the downstairs washroom with accidental magic as she relives those moments when she wanted to hex the living daylights out of him.

In her opinion, Ronald Weasley had proven his worth, and she found it lacking. Much to Bill's consternation, Fleur remained cold and distant around her brother-in-law, even as she listened with bated breath for any details about Harry and Hermione he was willing to share.

When Ron left to return to his friends, Bill was proud, and she could only feel disdain.

And worry.

The kind of worry that crept up on her as they waited for news, seeping into those cracks and slowly expanding them. Fleur pretended they weren't there. She plastered over them and went through the motions of her routine as a dutiful wife and member of the Order. Itching for news and also thankful there was none to hear. Repeating to herself her reasons for choosing this life. Almost believing them.

Until the cracks broke wide open that awful night the witch and the others arrived, cleaving through to her soul, and making room for Hermione to anchor herself right into Fleur's heart.

A/N: Thanks for reading!

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James Birdsong: Thanks!