On Teenagers & Love
a story by anamatics
Part Two
Chapter Nineteen - On Homecomings
AN: And here we come to the end of part two. Part three is in the works. Glad you all enjoyed.
a few people have asked me why I didn't go into what happened at the Department of Mysteries more, and rest assured, it will be discussed and dealt with at length as this story moves on - it just didn't feel right to address it then, especially not when I can use it to assess past trauma later.
I tend to write out the entire thing before I start to post it, this current part was almost 40,000 words long, so please be forgiving if it takes me a little while to get the next bit posted. It's currently sitting at 6,000 words.
It isn't until she steps off of the Hogwarts Express at King's Cross Station that Hermione realizes that she has no idea where she's going this summer. Her parents had written regarding their summer plans when she'd been so caught up in revising for O.W.L.s that arranging a place to stay had completely slipped her mind. She bites her lip and follows Ron and Harry off of the train, pausing to help a first year whose trunk is stuck. She has no idea what she's going to do if she can't go with the Weasleys. She's sure that Fleur won't mind, but to impose, especially with Fleur being rather annoyed with her at the moment, seems rather rude.
Mad-Eye Moody and Tonks, as well as a sad and drawn-looking Professor Lupin are there to meet them when they get off the train. They're waiting with the Weasleys just off the platform. To Hermione's great shock, she can see Harry's aunt, uncle and cousin standing there as well, casting nervous glances around and jumping at small noises.
He gives Hermione a tight hug and shakes Ron's hand before he goes to meet them, his expression closed off and sad. Hermione can see Lupin's fingers linger on his shoulder longer than is absolutely necessary and she can tell that Harry's grateful by the way he seems to relax, just a little bit.
Harry's family are truly dreadful people, and she can't resist smiling a little bit as she promises Harry that they won't be quite so vague in their letters this summer. Mad-Eye and Tonks are giving the Dursleys a hard time and Hermione's not quite able to hide her grin as she smiles welcomingly at Ron's family. It's only after Harry leaves that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley come forward and give Ron and Ginny uneasy hugs.
Hermione stands with her bag slung over her shoulder and her trunk at her feet, wondering who is coming to get her. She and Fleur haven't talked about this. There simply wasn't time after her parents' letter.
"Bill and Fleur are coming to collect you," Mrs. Weasley says with a small smile as she casts easy feather-light charms on Ron and Ginny's trunks. She glances at the clock that's proclaiming it to be five-fifteen in the afternoon. "They should be along shortly." Hermione smiles her thanks and Mrs. Weasley adds, "You are, of course, always welcome. Your parents wrote me about their situation this summer but they'd apparently spoken to Fleur already. You're just so young for that..."
Blinking in the bright June sunlight, Hermione realizes that maybe her parents haven't actually abandoned her at all. Instead, they've set her up for what might be the best summers ever. Mrs. Weasley's disapproval doesn't even bother her as glances around and sees Bill and Fleur cutting through the crowd. They're wearing Gringotts jackets, which Fleur's letters have explained that they've been down in the in the vaults all day. Fleur's got a streak of some sort of muck down one of her sleeves but she looks a lot happier than she was a few days ago.
Hermione raises her hand and waves enthusiastically. Fleur's cutting through the still-lingering throng of students and parents and Hermione knows that she's drawing some stares. She can see Pansy Parkinson toss her hair and turn her nose up in the air and say something that makes the group of people around her laugh loudly.
"Hello," Hermione says as Fleur grins brightly at her. "Have you been down in the vault today?"
"Ah, oui," Fleur says, and she's pulling Hermione into a tight hug, mucky jacket and all. Hermione breathes in the smell of her. She smells like Hermione's parents basement today, mixed with the scent that is truly uniquely Fleur. Hermione pulls back just enough so that she can go up on her toes and kiss Fleur properly, long and languid, not caring who sees. After Fleur pulls away, Hermione can see Ginny rolling her eyes and the bright red of Ron's ears over Fleur's shoulder.
"I 'ave missed 'ou," Fleur whispers into Hermione's hair and Hermione hugs her tighter.
Bill flicks his wand and in a rather impressive show of non-verbal magic shrinks and renews the feather-light charm that Hermione cast on her trunk before they left Hogwarts. He picks it up and tucks the brick-sized trunk into his pocket. "We'd best get going, yeah?"
"Where are we going?" Hermione asks as Fleur pulls away and tangles their fingers together with a distant sort of smile. She's got on heavy boots that match Bill's and looks far more rugged than Hermione's ever seen it. Hermione decides that she likes the look quite a bit and bites her lip, distracted by the glare that Pansy Parkinson is giving her.
Fleur tosses her hair over her shoulder and grins brightly at Hermione. "Chez moi," she replies dramatically with a wave of her free hand. Bill just shakes his head.
Hermione wishes that she had had more time to talk to Fleur before, but there was so much else going on at that moment that she felt as though it would have been improper to bring it up. The letter from her parents had fallen by the wayside of her exams and the situation with Hagrid, Umbridge, and Hagrid's poor decisions. She nods slowly as Fleur leads her off of Platform 9 3/4 and out into the bright sunlight of muggle London.
"Sorry I didn't tell you about that sooner," Hermione mutters as Fleur fiddles with her Gringtotts jacket and tucks her wand back up her sleeve. Her cheeks are burning because she honestly had forgotten, and now she just feels like a prat for not telling Fleur sooner.
Fleur's fingers squeeze her hand tightly as they draw Hermione out of the train station behind her. "'ermione, 'our parents, zey do know 'ow 'ou are. Zey wrote me in Avril, zinking zat 'ou would forget," Fleur smiles then, and Hermione's heart does a little flip flop. "What wiz ze examens et everzing else zat 'ou 'ad on your plate zis term..." Fleur glances back at Hermione and her expression turns down a bit. "I am sorry zat I did not zink to write 'ou and tell 'ou."
"It's my fault as well," Hermione replies. "I was just so busy with revising and trying to keep Harry from getting expelled and then Hagrid's brother..."
Fleur laughs and Hermione lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding. "As I said, zere was a lot on 'our mind."
They take the muggle underground to the heart of London. Hermione reads the street signs and realizes that they're actually pretty close to where the Ministry of Magic is located, not to mention that Diagon Alley is just a few blocks up. Fleur seems shockingly at ease on the underground and they both laugh as Bill gets caught in the turnstile and nearly has to pay the fare twice because he got stuck.
"Zis is why I do not let 'im come 'ere alone," Fleur explains as Hermione runs to get an attendant to help get Bill through the turnstile without having to pay twice.
"Thanks," He says, ears as red as his hair when the attendant overrides the lock and lets him go through. "Got a bit... tangled there."
"See that it doesn't happen again," the attendant replies curtly before retreating into his little booth.
Hermione can barely contain the mounting excitement she feels when she thinks about the prospect of spending at least a few weeks of the summer with Fleur and Fleur alone. Fleur's written her extensively about her flat, now that she's finally established enough at Gringotts to take out a line of credit and sign a lease.
There are several wizarding neighborhoods scattered around London, Hermione's heard stories about them from her classmates who live in the city. They're spread out, carefully masked, but they're there if you know where to look. Fleur leads them down a side alley and then suddenly steps sideways into the wall of what appears to a fenced-in courtyard. Hermione follows with a quick glance around and tumbles through the illusion of a wall and into a bustling city street.
"Wicked," she mutters to herself as Fleur turns to smile brightly at her.
There are shops lining the streets, but it's not chaotic like it is on Diagon Alley. There's a grocer and a bakery - a few restaurants and a few nicer robe shops. It's a nice neighborhood, spotted with bookstores and the odd coffee stop. The people who walk the streets here are young, not the older sort that tend to frequent Diagon Alley; they smile at Fleur and Bill, shouting greetings at friends.
"Bienvenue," Fleur says, heading towards a wrought iron gate half-hidden by a flowering bush that Hermione can't identify.
This place is brilliant, Hermione thinks as she hurries after Fleur down a cobblestone walkway between a bookstore that has a display that's already drawing Hermione's attention and a cafe that appears to double as a pub.
In her letters, Fleur had explained her selection process of this particular neighborhood as been fairly straightforward. She needed an inexpensive place to live, and this flat happened to fit those needs. While she said that did not mind Mrs. Weasley's offer of a place at the Burrow or Grimmauld Place for as long as she needed, Fleur was proud and did want to make her own way. It is apparently a tradition of some sort in her family to strike it out on one's own after school.
Bill, it turns out, lives two doors down from Fleur. He's got a live-in girlfriend who works at the ministry in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She's an auror-in-training and seems rather interesting, if a bit too serious for Hermione's taste. He hands over Hermione's shrunken trunk at what he tells Hermione is his door and heads inside, leaving Hermione alone with Fleur for the first time.
Fleur's flat is on the third floor. It has wide, sunny windows that overlook the street below and a a balcony that offers a raised garden bed where Fleur's planted all manner of potions ingredients. Hermione peers down at the murtlap plant that she remembers from all the times that they've needed it this year and sighs. She already misses Hogwarts, despite the fact that she's been given a great gift in this summer.
"Did they ever find Professor Umbridge?" she asks as Fleur enlarges her trunk and levitates it into what Hermione can only assume is the bedroom.
"Ah," Fleur's laugh is high and arching. Like the birds singing outside but somehow with more body. Hermione swallows the comparison before it starts. "Zey did, but I do not want to talk about zat 'orrible woman..."
She's leaning against the doorframe, her hair falling around her shoulders and her jacket discarded. Hermione can see that she's wearing a simple shirt to go with her practical pants and boots and she swallows, thinking about what is underneath it.
Pulling her bag off of her shoulder and setting it on the sofa, Hermione steps towards Fleur. She can feel a smile pulling at the corners of her cheeks and as Fleur's hands settle on her shoulders, Hermione feels herself finally exhale the breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
She is home now.
Fleur's kissing her then, lips hot and heavy and so full of desperation that Hermione can scarcely think of much else. Her fingers are skirting at the bottom of Fleur's shirt touching the warm skin that's just hidden underneath. It feels like it has been forever since they've done this and Hermione wants to commit each moment to memory.
Fleur's fingers tangle in Hermione's hair, holding her close. Her tongue and lips are teasing at Hermione's lips, begging entrance in that desperate sort of way that makes Hermione weak at her knees and wanting almost instantly. Hermione almost wants to give in, to let Fleur have her way and take what is offered, but she knows that that is not want she truly needs.
Her lips and tongue do battle with Fleur's as Hermione pushes her back into the bedroom. She barely had time to look around at the neatly made bed and sparse accommodations of a wardrobe and dresser, both in plain light wood; before she's backed Fleur up against the bed.
"'ermione," Fleur says, and her voice is heavy with implication and passion. It pours from her lips like the fine wines that the Romans wrote about in their epics and tastes like everything Hermione has come to love about Fleur. She had been right, all those months ago now, when she had told Hermione that French was the language of passion. It sounds like all that Hermione is feeling on Fleur's lips, full and rich and beautiful.
Hermione pushes her backwards, lips pressed against Fleur's neck. She lingers there, longer than she should as Fleur is an adult with a job working with humorless goblins. She doesn't care though, because this is about reclaiming what has been so absent in her life. Fleur brought this out of her, when she'd posed a theory to Hermione that Hermione could not prove wrong. Fleur had seen something in her in that moment, something that Hermione had yet to realize about herself.
This is about saying thank you, and as Hermione pulls Fleur's shirt up and over her head she knows that it's about a lot more than that too. She worries at the mark she's left on Fleur's neck, the necklace that she's yet to take off trails down Fleur's pale skin, blazing a path that Hermione's lips are quick to follow. She pushes Fleur's bra out of the way and her fingers dance across Fleur's breasts. She's missed this, oh god, how she's missed this.
Fleur seems to understand that Hermione wants to do this, and she does not put up a resistance. She holds Hermione's head to her breast and murmurs in quiet French as Hermione's lips draw little content sounds from Fleur's parted lips.
It is only when Hermione starts to fumble with Fleur's belt and pants that they have to break contact. Gringotts work pants are not the sort that can be easily maneuvered around, and Fleur helps Hermione pull them from her legs, knickers and all. Fleur's eyes are dark, too dark to be fully human as Hermione's reverent fingers find their mark. She watches Hermione move against her with dark, half-lidded eyes.
Hermione lowers her lips to kiss the places that she's missed so much over the past few long months. The longing that she's become so adept at ignoring as she revises and tries not to get killed, expelled, or worse surges like a great wave in Hermione's chest. Her heart thuds against her chest as she pushes her tongue and then her fingers forward, watching Fleur come undone above her. It is this moment, the tension so thick she could cut it with a knife, that Hermione knows that she's done right.
"Ah-" Fleur's voice comes only in strangled gasps and she's pulling on Hermione's shoulders, pulling her up to kiss her more fully. Hermione's lips meet Fleur's and they're locked in the age old dance. Fleur's grinding against Hermione's hand and almost as quickly as the moment where she is there, she's falling away the next, cresting over an edge so intense that Hermione has to bring her down slowly.
In the late June sunlight, Fleur's skin seems almost deathly pale. Her eyes are dark as Hermione holds her, their foreheads presses together. Hermione breaths heavily, pressing her lips to Fleur's sweaty temple. "I missed you so much," she whispers because it is all that can be said in such moments.
Fleur's fingers trace patterns on Hermione's hip and her eyes flutter closed. "I 'ave missed 'ou as well," she says and Hermione feels a smile tug at the corner of her lips.
She is truly happy to be home.
