On Teenagers and Love
a story by anamatics
part three - the fog
Chapter 29 - On Consequences
When she wakes up, there's gauze wrapped around her neck. Hermione moves to touch it, because it itches but her arms feel leaden and the effort it takes merely to move her fingers is enough for Hermione to nearly pass out from exhaustion. She struggles to open her eyes; the room is blurred but it comes into focus – clean and white – a hospital of some kind. Gabrielle is curled up in a chair across the room, arms wrapped around her knees, snoring quietly. "Wha—" it feels like there's sandpaper in her throat.
"Tu t'es reveille." A hand squeezes Hermione's and it is with great effort that she turns to see Fleur sitting beside the bed. She's smiling, but she looks exhausted, deep dark circles under her eyes and in the same clothes she was wearing when –
She doesn't remember leaving Gringotts.
"What happened?" Hermione forces out. Fleur lets go of her hand and reaches for a cup on the low table beside her. There's a plastic straw sticking out of the top that Hermione sucks on weakly when Fleur brings it to her lips. The water is cold, and her throat doesn't feel so dry once she's swallowed a few mouthfuls. "Fleur?" she asks.
Fleur's expression is grim. "Nous avons confirmé à qui appartenait le coffre du bank." She sucks in a deep breath, and seems to force herself to speak English before she continues, her voice and accent thick with emotion, "We lowered the wards on the door and removed the curse. When I came back to get you, you were lying on the ground and your neck was bleeding like it was…"
"After the ministry," Hermione finishes, following Fleur to the logical conclusion of the story. "Then it's her vault–"
"Oui. LeStrange, ou son mari, mais je pense que c'est sa coffre du bank." There's something distant about the way Fleur looks at her then, her expression closed off and her response in French. It makes Hermione nervous.
"Fleur…" She says again. "tout va bien?"
And then Fleur meets Hermione's eyes and Hermione sees it – the fear, the terror – the not knowing. "No, Hermione. I'm not okay. I thought that, in bringing you down there, I 'ad killed you."
"Oh Fleur," Hermione says. She wants to hug Fleur, wants to wrap her up in her arms and never, ever let her go. She's so tired, and her arms are so heavy. She drifts out of consciousness once more.
x
"You should have never taken the risk." Fleur's grandmother is angry, her expression dark as she stands in the doorway when Fleur's finally granted clearance to bring Hermione back to her parent's house. The wound at her neck has closed and the healers have brought in a blood curse expert to remove the nasty hex that was embedded into Bellatrix LeStrange's knife. With the hex removed, Hermione improved quickly. Two blood replenishing potions and she spent her final day at the hospital finishing up a transfiguration essay and being annoyed that she was being poked and prodded by the healers every few hours to ensure she was still on the mend. "She could have died Fleur, and then where would you be?"
"Lost," Fleur responds tersely.
Hermione regards Fleur's grandmother for a moment before she shakes her head. "None of us knew," she explains. "Up until the moment it was opened and the wound reopened." She wraps her arms around herself. "Please do not blame Fleur for this. It wasn't her fault. If anything, it was mine for not realizing the hex hadn't been removed last summer."
Fleur's grandmother's eyes narrow and she moves aside to let them come inside. "You must be more careful with those you make promises to, Fleur."
It's later, when they're both safely ensconced in Fleur's bedroom with the door locked that Hermione feels like she can process what happened. She's leaning against Fleur, Fleur's arms wrapped around her and Fleur's chin on her shoulder, staring out the bay window beyond Fleur's messy desk. There's a warmth in this embrace that is healing. Hermione feels brittle, like she's come in two, and Fleur's the only thing holding her together.
"Did you suspect that it was her vault beyond what you said to me when we spoke in Profess-Minerva's office?"
Fleur makes a humming sound deep in her throat. It rumbles against Hermione's back. "I did." She says, her voice a breath in Hermione's ear. She presses a kiss to Hermione's neck, now bandage and all but the thinnest of scars free. "But we had no proof beyond a potential connection to some activity she had during the first war here. She never spent much time away from England during that time as far as any of the Order's sources can tell us."
Snape couldn't prove it was her vault. Comes the unspoken truth beyond the vague statement. And they'd asked him to confirm it.
Hermione sighs, her arms loosely rapping around Fleur's. "I don't blame you for what happened."
"I blame myself, Hermione, it's just as bad. I failed to protect you."
"But it wasn't your fault." When Fleur says nothing, Hermione disentangles herself from Fleur's arms and turns, swinging her legs over Fleur's so they're sitting face to face. She reaches out, cupping Fleur's face, smoothing away the lines of worry and unspoken concern. "You are amazing, my love. You did everything right. I'm still here."
Fleur's fingers splay out on Hermione's chest. Her palm rests on the pale blue stone of the necklace, the ring on her finger glinting in the dying light. It's an anchor between the two. She leans in, kissing Hermione, her lips speaking words of sorrow, begging for forgiveness. Hermione kisses her back with all the grace she can offer. When they part, foreheads bumping against each other, Hermione is smiling. "What should I say, to absolve you of this?" she asks.
"We are proud, you know?" Fleur says, her fingers are on Hermione's cheek, the other hand has now clenched around the necklace. "Those that are ours, those to whom we allow ourselves to love, to whom we promise, they become…everything." She presses her lips to Hermione's once more, the kiss seeming more desperate than it had before. Her lips are moving against Hermione's, her tongue is in Hermione's mouth – taking, taking.
Hermione pulls back. Fleur's eyes are a stormy blue, dark with desire. "Then be everything, Fleur." She tilts her head, neck showing.
And maybe, when Fleur presses her lips to Hermione's neck and slides her hands up Hermione's thigh to the juncture of her hip, it it's the absolution that Fleur wants and Hermione desperately needs to give her.
x
On her last evening in France, Fleur's grandmother sits them both down and tells them of what she knows of their bond. With Bellatrix LeStrange's curse removed, Fleur's grandmother has had an easier time of understanding what has happened between them. She explains, with Fleur translating as the French quickly goes over Hermione's head, that their bond is very new and they probably didn't mean for it to become so strong so quickly, but that the coming war made for unfortunate circumstances. The two weeks that they'd spent together would help to solidify the bond, as did "whatever you did last night." Fleur's grandmother says it with a raised eyebrow and a pointed smirk that tells Hermione that there are no secrets to be kept from this woman. "Whatever magic you did, it seems to have settled both your spirits considerably. I think it is good."
Hermione isn't sure how to say thank you. Fleur tilts her head and asks her grandmother something in French, using a handful of words Hermione doesn't know. At Hermione's furrowed brow, Fleur explains, "You asked me to be everything. If that is what settled this, then it means that we…have strengthened the bond, I think."
"It does," Fleur's grandmother agrees. "It is a long path until this road is finished. One you should tread lightly on until you have completed the process."
They gather in the kitchen and Phillipe opens a bottle of wine as he cooks, Apolline leaning against the counter next to him, commenting quietly on his cooking and serving as his taste-tester as Hermione Fleur watch from the kitchen table. Fleur's grandmother shakes her head at her daughter's antics before turning her attention back to Gabrielle's essay that she's reading.
Later, after dinner is cleared away, Hermione finds her way outside, standing in the yard and staring up at the clear night sky. The world smells like damp, the apple tree at the end of the hard is blooming. For early April, it's a mild night, and the stars are beautiful.
In their pen, one of the chickens lets out a squawk and then goes quiet. Hermione wraps her arms around herself, naming the constellations one by one. There are footsteps behind her, and Hermione closes her eyes as Fleur hugs her from behind. "I don't want to go back," she says.
Fleur hums in her ear. "It is not that much longer," she says.
"We are counting down, Fleur, we all know it. Harry is safe only as long as he stays at his awful aunt's house – and that will only last until he's seventeen. Which is in four months. After then – I don't know." She exhales shakily. "I wanted to finish my NEWTs, you know? I wanted to go to University – get Mastery in something exciting, make a career out of it. Make a life with you. Settle into a quiet life after school, maybe separate myself a little from Harry and Ron. Now it seems the fates have intertwined our lives together so tightly that I don't think I'll ever have an identity outside of them and what we're sure to have to do to stop him."
Letting go, Fleur moves in front of Hermione. Her hair glows in the moonlight, her eyes shining with their own starlight. "You will stop him, though. Of that I have every confidence."
"Why?" Hermione asks.
"Because I love you." When she leans in and kisses Hermione, it is another sort of promise.
