A/N: Sorry for the long gap between chapters! Life has been hectic and I've been struggling to write. Z x
Also! If you are 18+ and like Harry Potter F/F pairings, feel free to join a discord group of like minded writers/readers: discord. gg / d4wgtA5jrA (delete the gaps, I had to chuck them in so FFN wouldn't auto yeet that link)
Fleur awoke slowly.
Her room was still bathed in warm dim light from the fire. She still felt an undercurrent of coldness, but was feeling so much better. A lot of that was due to the warmth radiating from the body next to her. She wrapped herself even more tightly around the figure, sighing contentedly. Her eyes fell shut again.
"Eep," the figure emitted quietly.
Fleur felt the figure begin to struggle gently in her arms and she yawned, opening her eyes again.
This time she was more aware, taking in the soft chest her face was nestled against and the smell of fresh parchment and citrus. Fleur felt her face warm and she lifted her head up sharply.
It hadn't been a dream. She had fallen asleep cuddling with Hermione Granger.
Judging by the bright red and choked expression on Hermione's face, she was a little uncomfortable with their position.
Fleur felt a shiver, entirely unrelated to the cold, run through her. On some level, she'd wanted to end up in this situation with Hermione. But this was not at all how she had imagined it occurring.
Fleur, still waking up properly, registered that one of her thighs was even warmer than the rest of her, pressed firmly between Hermione's legs. There was a heat radiating from Hermione there that sent a thrill through the blonde. Fleur jerked awkwardly at the realisation of what the heat from between Hermione's legs meant.
Hermione let out another "eep," her face reddening further.
Fleur cringed, ducking her head as she withdrew herself from Hermione. She rolled off the trapped girl and sat up on the bed beside her, drawing her knees up to her chin and wrapping her arms around them.
This wasn't supposed to happen. She was supposed to have an early night— alone— resting up and recuperating after her stupid mistake at the lake.
Hermione's shallow breaths punctuated the silence between them, causing Fleur's stomach to squirm wildly.
Why. Why did even the brunette's breaths set off wild sensations in her body?
"Er, sorry," Fleur mumbled, "I did not mean to fall asleep and… Ah… Trap you."
Fleur loathed the way she sounded when she spoke English. Clumsy, infantile, stupid. She knew Hermione could understand French, and was sorely tempted to speak in her native tongue to her. Then she could express herself as clearly and as subtly as she wanted to. But that would be like admitting defeat. She wanted to master English. She insisted on excelling in everything she set her mind to. So she persevered.
"I… I was just…"
Fleur felt the English words roll around, clunky on her tongue. How to put into words why she had asked Hermione to cuddle her? Or why she had fallen asleep so easily with the brunette? Fleur was almost infamous at Beauxbatons for her inability to sleep soundly through the night.
Fleur would struggle to put it into words in French, even.
Something about Hermione Granger drew her in. Her warm brown eyes, the wild brunette curls. The cute splashes of freckles that appeared on Hermione's nose. And other places… A small voice reminded her.
She hadn't been able to stop her eyes from roaming Hermione's body when the brunette had been fishing around the grass for her clothes by the lake.
Fleur shut her eyes tightly, steeling herself with a long breath.
The truth was, she didn't understand what it was about Hermione that drew her in. She just did. The brunette was captivating.
Fleur felt a warmth on her hand and her eyes flew open again.
Hermione's hand was on hers, her brown eyes looking at Fleur with that goddamned sweet, earnest look they had.
"It's really late," Hermione said, smiling awkwardly, "I really need to get back to the castle or I'll get in trouble for being out of the Gryffindor Tower after curfew."
"I…"
Fleur swallowed. She was sounding stupid again. She wanted nothing more than to ask Hermione to stay. Maybe even to cuddle her from behind in those tanned arms. Fleur scrunched her eyes shut.
She was losing control.
Hermione had deceived her once already, with her covert research on Veela. Fleur knew rationally she shouldn't jump into trusting her so fully, so quickly, after that. Enough people before Hermione had befriended Fleur with underhanded motives. She needed to tread carefully before she got hurt again.
Fleur winced.
"Are you okay?" Hermione asked gently.
Fleur nodded, swallowing heavily.
Did she really like Hermione? Or was Hermione still invoking methods of charming Veela? There were no strawberries or olives to be seen, but that didn't mean Hermione was not using some kind of inside knowledge to lower her guard.
Fleur frowned at that. She wasn't some pet cat to be stroked and petted until she rolled over and showed her belly.
Fleur opened her eyes, feeling the silly pang in her stomach as her eyes locked with honey-flecked brown. She found a smile lazing its way across her face, unbidden.
"Are you still feeling cold?" Hermione asked. She brought a hand up to her mouth, chewing on the nail of an ink-stained finger.
A terrible habit. One Fleur might even say was disgusting. Yet, Hermione Granger made it look so cute.
Fleur shook her head.
She needed to keep a level head.
"Ah, a little," Fleur admitted. The truth was she had recovered a lot faster after only a few hours of sleeping in Hermione's arms. The after-effects of the cold were now merely a slight chill at her bones. It was nowhere near as unbearable as it had been before.
Hermione nodded, her eyes roaming Fleur's body briefly with concern. Concern and the flicker of something else.
"I should go," Hermione said again, hastily this time. She clambered out of the bed, quickly straightening herself out and getting her shoes on.
Fleur felt the loss of warmth in the bed, frowning a little. She wanted to say something. Ask Hermione to stay. Tell her to go. Fleur bit her lip, conflicted.
Hermione reached the door, looking back at Fleur cautiously.
Fleur didn't trust herself to speak, instead nodding neutrally.
An unreadable expression flitted across Hermione's features.
"Well, erm, see you around," Hermione murmured, before slipping out the door.
Fleur sighed heavily and threw herself back in her bed, staring up at the ceiling. How could one girl make her feel so confused?
Every single instance in Fleur's life so far had taught her, from a very young age, not to give someone a second chance. Yet here she was, giving Hermione Granger exactly that. Not just that, but letting Hermione into her very bed!
Fleur swore softly.
How many boys and girls had won her over, only to betray her or break her heart? People saw Veela as the ultimate conquest. Something to use and throw away. Something to hurt. Somehow people always found it easier to hurt things that weren't human. Or not entirely human, at least.
Fleur felt the added pressure of Gabrielle's constant observation. She'd always tried to protect her baby sister and make sure she'd never have to go through anything that she herself had gone through. What kind of example would it set if she openly threw herself at Hermione? Gabrielle would never learn the dangers of trusting someone who had already broken your trust. Fleur shuddered at the thought of teaching Gabrielle to give someone second chances. It was entirely too dangerous when you were part-Veela.
Not to mention what her mother would say.
Apolline Delacour had long ago had her heart broken by the human man that had fathered Fleur and Gabrielle. She'd held a firm distrust of humans ever since.
Apolline's mother before her had also had her heart broken by a human.
Fleur hardly wanted to be the third Delacour woman in a row to suffer that fate.
Fleur swore again. She was getting ahead of herself. Hermione had merely fallen asleep after bringing her a friendly drink. There was nothing to worry about.
Fleur lay on back against her pillows, staring at the ceiling with a conflicted expression.
Fleur suffered a poor sleep for the rest of the night, back to her usual tossing and turning. She got up to roam the Beauxbatons Carriage no less than five times, read several chapters of a book, and tried some meditation. It had always been the case that she slept lightly and woke frequently. She hadn't had a good, deep sleep in some time. Not since she had hit puberty and the thrall had begun to thrum through her.
Apolline had never been able to explain it to Fleur, but simply said in clipped tones that the struggles with sleeping would be worse at times, and better at others. Fleur hated when her mother spoke in such cryptic tones.
Fleur tied the bow of her silk uniform in the mirror, observing her reflection carefully. She cocked her head to one side, satisfied. At least the Veela blood assured she would never outwardly show signs of exhaustion.
Her hair was perfectly straight, the silvery platinum blonde looking satisfyingly silky. Fleur carefully pulled it back and began to plait it over one shoulder.
There was a rhythmic knock at the door before Gabrielle entered.
"Fleur!" Gabrielle greeted in French, "Will you do my hair?"
Fleur sighed and smiled. Of course. Her baby sister was forever trying to get her to do her hair. Fleur rather suspected it was a gambit so Gabrielle could spend more time with her— which was quite cute, so Fleur didn't complain.
Fleur finished up her own plait while Gabrielle bounced on the balls of her feet beside her. By the time Fleur turned to her sister, the child was practically buzzing with excitement. Fleur couldn't help but chuckle lightly. She wished she was still as easily excited by mundane things such as having her hair done.
But then… She had been easily excited merely by sharing her bed with Hermione Granger just that night…
Fleur shook her head slightly, trying to push the thoughts of the brunette from her mind.
"How do you want your hair done today, little duckling?" Fleur asked, her slender fingers playing with Gabrielle's hair. Gabrielle pouted adorably.
"I'm not a duckling," Gabrielle insisted imperiously, "I'm mature. I want a plait. No, two plaits."
Gabrielle eyed Fleur's own plait as she spoke.
Fleur hid her smile, indulging her baby sister.
"Yes, you are very mature, Gabrielle," Fleur agreed, "And two plaits? That will look twice as good as my single plait."
Gabrielle smiled proudly in the mirror as Fleur set to work brushing her hair. Though they were merely a quarter Veela, there was still something sacred about brushing and caring for their hair.
"Did Hermione stay the night?" Gabrielle asked curiously, her big blue eyes catching Fleur's in the mirror. Fleur looked away.
"She… She stayed a little while," Fleur said evasively. She wanted to be very careful when talking about Hermione with Gabrielle, so as not to set a poor example. Fleur would never forgive herself if harm befell Gabrielle from being too trusting.
Gabrielle wiggled her eyebrows ludicrously, causing Fleur to lose her composure and laugh.
"I think she likes you," Gabrielle informed Fleur confidently.
Fleur bit her lip, focussing on plaiting Gabrielle's hair.
"I think… I think we must always be careful of the full-blooded humans we get to know," Fleur said cautiously.
Gabrielle stuck out her tongue.
"You sound like Mother," Gabrielle groaned.
Fleur moved the conversation to lighter topics as she finished Gabrielle's hair, then fixed the appallingly messy bow she had done for her uniform. By the time they exited Fleur's room, much of the Carriage were already leaving their rooms to head to the castle for breakfast.
"Fleur!"
Fleur smiled warmly as Julie fell into step beside her and Gabrielle. Now Julie was a human that Fleur could trust. They'd been friends for a couple of years now, after Julie had stood up for Fleur when some boys at their school were being incredibly inappropriate while following her around.
Julie was the kind of girl you could connect with easily and deeply. She had an open smile and emotive eyes. What you saw was what you got with Julie— no hidden agendas. Fleur always felt so at ease and safe with the girl.
Perhaps that was why it had been so easy for the lines to blur in their friendship? Kissing, cuddling, making love with Julie had been an almost natural progression. It felt safe and comforting. Nothing like previous physical encounters Fleur had experienced where partners would be too aggressive or distant.
Fleur had assumed Julie had felt the same safe comfort and nothing more. That these were things that felt good that they did together. She still felt like an idiot that she hadn't recognised Julie's feelings growing. It had been fun, but it had never elicited the kind of wild passion that Fleur yearned for in a partner. No— things were never destined to go further than a platonic relationship with her and Julie.
She noticed Julie move to take her hand before faltering.
Fleur had been keeping a bit more physical distance between them while Julie got over her feelings. She didn't want to lead Julie on or confuse her.
Fleur smiled warmly at her friend, smoothing over the slight awkwardness between them.
"How did you sleep?" Fleur asked.
Julie shrugged,
"Okay, I guess… How are you feeling this morning? You looked pretty dreadful last night!" Julie commented.
Fleur laughed and pulled a face.
"Wow, thanks for the compliment!" Fleur retorted.
"I didn't mean — You were so cold and shivery! I was worried… You know I think you're gorgeous," Julie hastily backtracked, before realising what she had said and blushing.
"Hermione came and looked after her," Gabrielle interrupted, playing with the bow on her small uniform.
Fleur inwardly cursed her baby sister's bluntness as slight hurt crossed Julie's face. Her friend had offered to cuddle her when she had returned to the carriage freezing. Fleur had declined, despite knowing the close proximity could help. She hadn't wanted to lead on Julie or confuse things between them any further. Julie was a lovely girl, unlikely to harbour any ill-will, but it still stung Fleur to hurt her feelings.
"Coming to tell you to change English tutors again?" Julie joked weakly, recovering.
"She really didn't like that Pansy Parkinson tutoring me," Fleur mused aloud, a small smile on her lips. Jealousy perhaps?
"Is that the Slytherin girl with red lipstick?" Gabrielle asked, tugging at her backpack straps restlessly.
Fleur placed a hand on Gabrielle's shoulder's to still her restlessness.
"Yes, now, stop eavesdropping," Fleur said gently.
Gabrielle pouted then, a pout that rivalled even Fleur's.
"It's not eavesdropping if I'm walking with you!" Gabrielle protested, "I just wanted to know if it was the Slytherin girl that kissed Hermione in the library the other day!"
Fleur stopped in her tracks then, her eyebrows raising and eyes widening slightly. Julie shot her a sympathetic look, before taking her by the arm and tugging her back into step.
"Hermione was kissing Pansy Parkinson?" Fleur asked hollowly, feeling oddly like a heavy weight had been dropped in the pit of her stomach.
"Well, the girl kissed her, but yeah," Gabrielle shrugged obliviously, still bouncing along happily beside her sister.
Fleur affixed a neutral expression once more. She hated people knowing what she thought.
"I thought you didn't care," Julie said with a sad and knowing smile, squeezing her arm.
"I don't," Fleur affirmed, shaking her head and raising her chin defiantly, "There is nothing going on between Hermione and I. She's free to kiss whoever she wants."
Fleur gritted her teeth, telling herself it was because of the bitter Scottish cold, and not because of the curious ache within her at Gabrielle's revelation.
The trio made their way lightly up the steps to Hogwarts, stepping gracefully inside the Entrance Hall.
As if on some horrible cue, Hermione Granger herself was making her way through the Entrance Hall to the Great Hall, flanked by Harry Potter and the redhead that hung around them.
Bright intelligent eyes of the warmest brown met Fleur's gaze.
Fleur gave the very slightest of smiles, maintaining an otherwise aloof exterior.
This cool greeting furrowed the brow of the brunette. Fleur could practically hear her brain whirring across the hall. But Fleur didn't care. Hermione could be as perplexed as she liked.
"Flurr?"
A deep baritone voice, heavily accented, called out to her. Fleur turned to see Viktor Krum, normally very reserved and extremely quiet, staring at her with his intense and steely gaze. He had recently shaved his hair again, which he kept closely cropped to his head. He was burly for a seeker, with heavily muscled shoulders and a thick neck. Though it was morning, he already had a five o'clock shadow about his face.
"Oui?" Fleur replied curiously. She could feel eyes upon her. She always did, the hungry gaze of the thrall-addled boys— but this time she could practically feel a set of intelligent and curious eyes upon her.
"Could I haff a word?" Viktor asked politely, "Privately?"
Viktor had a similar demeanour to Fleur in public. He had clearly also been raised with a stern hand, raised not to show much emotion in public.
Fleur turned to Julie, not needing to speak aloud, as her friend simply nodded and took Gabrielle by the shoulder to carry on into the Great Hall.
Fleur turned back to Viktor, who gestured politely in the direction of outdoors, much to Fleur's distaste.
Fleur walked ahead of Viktor, stepping carefully back outside and to the side of the Hogwarts steps. She shivered in the cold, inwardly thinking that this had better be good to keep her in the cold like this.
Viktor glanced around them carefully, ensuring they could not be overheard. He then smiled apologetically, slipping off his heavy bearskin cloak, before offering it to Fleur.
"Sorry, I know you do not like the cold," Viktor said politely. Fleur merely nodded, allowing Viktor to place the fluffy black cloak around her shoulders. It did help immensely, and Fleur wondered if the cloak was enchanted to keep the bitterness of the cold out. She would have to ask Viktor.
"Merci," Fleur thanked Viktor, before getting straight to the point, "Now what did you want to discuss?"
Viktor glanced around yet again, before leaning in close to Fleur. Fleur could smell the scent of oaky wood and charcoal about him. He was so close that Fleur could see the stubble on his chiselled features and the startling grey of his eyes. Usually when a boy would do this, Fleur would instinctively dodge, certain of an attempted kiss. But something about Viktor was earnest and trustworthy.
"Moody," Viktor said quietly. He spoke barely above a murmur, despite having checked multiple times that they were alone and the wind whipping around them.
Fleur frowned.
"What about him?" Fleur asked, cocking her head to one side.
"Do you not think there is something… off?" Viktor asked, his eyes narrowing, "He seems to be… Acting strangely. Following around Champions. I've caught him several times talking to Karkaroff in heated tones."
"What about?" Fleur asked, curious. Viktor shrugged.
"I've never been close enough to hear," Viktor admitted.
Fleur bit her lip, weighing up Viktor's words. He seemed to be agitated by the eccentric professor, but Fleur could not entirely understand why.
"You are talking an awful lot around your point," Fleur said finally, "What exactly is bothering you about him?"
Viktor sighed, his broad shoulders slacking a little.
"There is something not quite right," Viktor informed Fleur quietly, "I worry he is rigging the competition somehow."
"For what purpose?" Fleur asked, raising her eyebrows, "Do you have any proof?"
Viktor, defeated looking, shook his head.
"No," Viktor replied, "And as for the purpose? I have no idea. I just wanted to warn you, whatever his motives. I haff caught him following me back to the Durmstrang ship a few times now, and watching me about the grounds. I haff seen him do the same to Cedric, and also spotted him about the Beauxbatons carriage. I want to win this competition, and I know you do too. I would rather we all compete upon equal footing."
"Me too," Fleur agreed, "Do you think you could talk to Ludo Bagman about your concerns?"
Viktor shook his head.
"You know how Hogwarts obsessed they are here— They would think I was imagining it, or trying to disparage our host school," Viktor replied, "No… I must simply be cautious unless I chance upon any definite evidence of my suspicions."
Fleur nodded, digesting this information.
"You will be careful?" Viktor asked, genuine concern in his eyes.
"I will," Fleur replied.
Viktor nodded, gesturing for them to return to the castle. Fleur walked in silence with the athlete. For Viktor to reach out to her and share his suspicions, he must have a very strong suspicion that Moody was up to no good. Viktor hardly struck Fleur as the type to gossip about half-baked theories.
As they stepped inside the Great Hall, Viktor took his cloak back from Fleur's shoulders. He leaned in close to her ear as he did so.
"I understand what we discussed may sound crazy," Viktor murmured, "But please do heed my words."
He withdrew again, sweeping his cloak around his own broad shoulders. Fleur smiled and nodded.
With that, Viktor smiled politely before turning on his heel and marching towards the other Durmstrang students at the Slytherin table. Watching him go, Fleur's eyes fell on Pansy Parkinson.
The tanned, raven haired beauty was watching her curiously. At being caught, her blood red lips turned into a smug grin, her button nose scrunching as she grinned.
Fleur frowned, turning away and heading for the Ravenclaw table.