On Teenagers and Love

a story by anamatics

part three - the fog

Chapter 28 - On Vaults


Early in the morning on Hermione's fifth day in France, Fleur nudges Hermione awake at six o'clock in the morning and kisses Hermione when she turns into Fleur's embrace. "Do you want to see the vault?"

Hermione does, naturally, and they dress hurriedly. Fleur passes Hermione a bit of the bread from last night's dinner, a piece of ham shoved into it as they hurry through the kitchen. They aren't sneaking out, not exactly, but there is an underlying assumption that Fleur not take Hermione with her to work that has been communicated pretty clearly without words to both Fleur and Hermione by both Fleur's mother and grandmother. They don't think it's safe. Hermione gets the sense that they don't really even approve of Fleur doing this sort of work at times, though both are fairly silent on the issue. Getting out of the house and into the cool and damp spring morning in the front garden is enough for Hermione to exhale as she eats her makeshift sandwich and watches as Fleur feeds the chickens that peck at the yard.

"You're very pretty," she says when Fleur sets the bucket of feed aside and collects her work bag from where she'd left it by the front door.

"Am I?" Fleur asks.

"You are." Hermione says and Fleur's kissing her and they're apparating all at once. She's warm and smells like the morning dew.

They appear in a room with high arching ceilings painted in a pale, seafoam green. Constellations are painted in gold against it, and a fresco that Hermione knows is taken from goblin lore adores the middle where the four lines of ornately carved slate gray stone meet. She's been in a room like this at Gringotts before, it's designated and specifically warded for employees commuting in to work.

A man appears at the door. He's a bit shorter than Hermione and Fleur, and his skin has a green tinge to it. "Delacour," he says. His hair is as curly as Hermione's – only it's trimmed extremely short, giving him a severe look and making him look older than Hermione guesses he actually is.

"Salut Damien," Fleur answers. She turns to Hermione and switches to English. "Hermione, this is Damien Betz, he's one of the liaisons between the London and Paris Gringotts branches." She tilts her head to Damien, whose thick eyebrows furrow. "Damien, this is Hermione Granger. She's here to see the vault."

"Have you cleared it with Bill?" Damien asks. He takes Hermione's hand when she holds it out and smiles politely at her. Hermione's never met someone with goblin blood before, but it's clear that Damien is very much like Fleur in that regard. "Because I don't think –" he wrinkles his nose, " – schoolgirls should be allowed into such a dangerous place."

"Bill knows," Fleur assures Damien. She waves a hand and bends over a small table at the corner of the room and picks up a quill to write in a large book there. When she finishes writing, there's the sound of a bell in the distance and a metallic clank as a badge appears through a slot in the wall. Fleur picks it up and moves to stand next to Hermione. "Hermione has been helping me with the runes, Damien," Fleur explains, handing Hermione a badge reading "Hermione Granger – Rune Translation - Bill Weasley."

"Visitor's pass?" Hermione asks, recalling the fraught trip to the Ministry of Magic the previous year. Her badge then had read 'ill-conceived rescue mission.' This was far better. She pins it to her jumper.

"Yes," Damien explains, "Your name, purpose, and the manager responsible should anything unpleasant befall you." There's a bit of a sneer when he says the last bit that tells Hermione all she needs to know about how Damien feels about her presence here.

"Thank you," Hermione says, "For the explanation, Mr. Betz."

"It is better that humans who come into our establishment for the express purpose of excavation and translation accounted for." He gave a half bow. "I will see you in the vault, Mlle. Delacour, Mlle. Granger."

Fleur waited a few moments before sighing. "He's an arse," she says. "But he is unfortunately our – well, Bill's – liaison while we are here."

"Is he a half goblin?" Hermione asks.

"Not quite. Do not ask about that though, it's a sore subject that's led to his not really fitting anywhere. The goblins, they tolerate him far more than humans do." Fleur gathers her work bag and offers Hermione her arm. She tilts her head toward the exit as Hermione settles beside her. "Shall we?"

Hermione nods, and Fleur leads her deeper into Gringotts Paris.

x

The tomb – if it is indeed a tomb and not just a particularly troublesome vault – is deep underground. The air is warmer here, humid in a way that has Hermione's hair frizzing and sticking to her forehead. She pushes it out of her eyes, the corkscrew curls bounce back immediately and Hermione scowls. Fleur leads Hermione past a series of what she can only assume are staging areas for the actual excavation and investigation of the vault. There are a few goblins milling around, preoccupied with their own work, heads bowed over parchment and artifact. Taking notes under lights charmed so bright Hermione would think she's standing outside, had she not seen the lamp array overhead.

"The archival team," Fleur explains as they pass by. She's mentioned the team before in her letters, they're experts on preservation of historical artifacts. Gringotts employs many of them, human and non-human alike, in order to ensure that whatever is found in the darker recesses of their vaults is well cared for. "I think they are still working on the first layer of charms?"

One of the goblins looks up and nods. "William is up at the doors, Fleur. We're about done with the proofs based on the translations you provided. Still checking Damien's but we're nearly done with his too – Grimpley's is done. The comparisons so far are close."

"Damien's will probably also be close then." When he nods, Fleur grins at him. "I'm up to see William. Come and let us know when you're done Coran. We're going to open the door today if the translation holds."

Coran nods, turning back to his work, a dismissal. Hermione, who has never seen a goblin interact politely with, well, anyone, before, boggles at both Fleur and Coran for a moment before Fleur grabs her hand and pulls her deeper into the tunnel. There's another staging area here, Bill and Marietta are bent over a table looking at a scroll of parchment speaking in low tones to Damien.

"Alright, Hermione?" Bill asks when he catches sight of her. At Hermione's small smile, he continues, "Glad that Fleur was able to spirit you out of the house for this. Exciting stuff."

"I do not think she should be here, Weasley," Damien says sharply.

Bill shrugs and ignores him. Hermione isn't exactly sure of the hierarchy here, but Bill is clearly in charge and his word on the matter seems to be final. He and Marietta fill Fleur in, with a great deal of extra detail for Hermione's benefit. They're in the final stages of opening the vault now, it seems, after having spent nearly a month working on the translations of the rune-wards and undoing several curses left on the wards themselves to protect against people attempting to do exactly what Bill's team has been tasked with doing. "No one got too badly injured," Bill explained, "which is always a good sign in these sorts of excavations."

"Do you know who the vault belongs to?" Hermione asks when Coran appears a few minutes later with the three independent translations and the proofs. They're done, he announces, 97% concurrence. This seems to be a positive.

Fleur glances at Bill, her lips a thin line. Hermione frowns, watching as Bill glances to Damien and Marietta, and then to Coran. He swallows, his boots crunching in the loose rock underneath their feet. "We're not entirely sure – the security and the nature of the spells suggests that it belonged to someone with an affinity for dark magic, perhaps even some of the more ritualistic curses involving blood…" He looks toward the door, a dark, ominous-looking piece of granite carved with numerous runes. "The translation talks at length about those whose blood the owner has spilled."

"Because that's hardly cause for alarm," Hermione says, mostly to Fleur, who slips her hand into Hermione. Bill cracks a smile and Marietta giggles softly.

"Too right," Marietta agrees.

Damien rolls his eyes.

Fleur ushers Hermione toward the back of the staging area, behind a few crates. "Whatever happens, stay back."

"Why?" Hermione demands.

"Because I want you well away from this should something go wrong," Fleur explains. She kisses Hermione on her forehead and backs away, leaving Hermione to grip the rough wood of the crates and watch as Fleur draws her wand and goes to join the others at the door.

Damien and Coran, along with a second goblin that introduced himself as Grimpley, erect basic wards around the group, the air shimmering with the protective magic they've surrounded themselves with. Fleur's told her about this spell, something the goblins had come up with when they removed ancient curses from old vaults. It must be cast by goblins, drawing on a different sort of magic than the sort that humans drew upon, but it extends protection to anyone within it's confines once erected. In essence, it functioned like a faraday box, completely neutralizing external magical interference while allowing the curse breakers to go to work.

"Reckon you gotta sing it, Fleur," Coran says once the wards are up and they've shot a few jinxes at it to ensure that it will hold. He raises a hand and points to something carved far up on the door. "They included the key for a reason."

Bloody bizarre wizards… a note on the key?

Bill nods his agreement and Hermione watches, a little surprised, as Fleur takes the translation from Coran and glances to Grimpley, who nods. "Forgive me." She sounds a little sheepish. "If I butcher this."

And then Fleur starts to sing. Hermione, intellectually, knows that this is something that those with veela heritage can do. She'd been practicing, she said last year, embracing her heritage more. She'd said that they'd wanted her specifically for this particular vault for a reason – for her veela heritage. Fleur is beautiful, always, her voice is lovely and Hermione's always been drawn to it, but to hear her sing. It's like Hermione's world shakes.

The runes on the door start to glow with a dim red light, it flickers as Fleur's voice rises in volume. Hermione watches as the color slowly starts to transition from red to purple, and then finally to blue. Her neck itches and her feet tingle as the wards on the vault door are taken down one by one.

As Fleur sings the final phrase, Hermione's world goes black.