Chapter 7 - Noontide
Hermione emerged in quick, excited steps from the Delacour Manor. She was feeling well and was looking forward to getting back to work. She wanted to finish this job as soon as possible, not only because she needed new contracts, after all she had a career to maintain, but also to resolve the Veela situation. Hermione noticed that it was getting harder and harder for Sybelle to keep the other leaders calm about the status of the problem. The brunette had also decided to spend the night working, so after dinner she would return to her task.
When she went down the three short steps leading back to the house, she felt herself bump into someone. Reacting quickly, the woman caught her by the forearms, and Hermione found herself face to face with a woman with reddish brown hair and green eyes. She thought the woman should have been Sybelle's age, that is, one of the oldest Veela in the village.
"Oh pardonne-moi! I didn't see you. " [Forgive me!]. Hermione spoke quickly, assessing whether she had hurt the woman in any way.
"Do not worry, everything is fine." The woman smiled widely at Hermione, but something made the young Gryffindor feel goosebumps along her arms, and her sense of caution ignited. "Mademoiselle Granger, oui? I'm Giselle Beaumont, it's a pleasure to meet you."
"Nice to meet you as well," Hermione replied calmly. "I must go back to work now, I'm sorry for crashing into you," Hermione said, trying to get away from the woman quickly, but the brunette couldn't get very far, for the woman still had her arm in her grip.
"How are you going to repair our Clock?" The tone was firm, and Hermione was unable to define what made her so uncomfortable.
"I can't discuss an ongoing project. Now, si vous voulez bien m'excuser." [if you will excuse me] Hermione removed herself from the woman's grasp, and quickly moved away.
The very strange feeling about that woman lingered with Hermione, and something made her decidedly uneasy. She walked quickly into the dome of her workspace, and the clock she was now practically re-assembling, with the exception of the quadrant Hermione was restoring instead. Hermione spread out some clock pieces and whispered to herself.
"What the hell was that about?" The brunette muttered aloud, vaguely in the direction of where the structure was situated. She suddenly felt a great push of magic coming out of the clock towards her own magical core.
The first touch of magic formed a connection to her core, and Hermione experienced a burning sensation, as if she were mixing with hot oil, but then the second touch was much smoother and more peaceful. It was with that awareness that she felt, much more than she heard, the words in her mind soft and rhythmic, as in the narration of a book spoken in a mixture of female voices. They seemed to resonate as if through the centuries.
"Time is a curious thing, isn't it? The world revolves around itself and around a big star and that gives us time. This rhythmic and systematic passage that allows humans to be born, grow and die. Time also keeps memories, as well as the purest magic. Time is something natural, organic, and that even the most skilled who are able to manipulate it, will never be able to control it. People come, go, and many try to fight the end of their own time. And there are those, those who don't want to control time but use it to their advantage. Like any tool created by man, we serve a purpose. Mine is to mark, mark the time remaining at any given moment for other creatures, even showing if they are in safety or danger. I can even tell where they are, how they are, but I will never be able to show how they will be. The future is uncertain, as uncertain as a raindrop in a storm. My purpose is clear, as well as yours. You will fix me and I can go back to my role. And you can follow yours as a member of that clan. Believe in your willpower and everything you are will guide you. When the attack on me occurred, I was here, as I have always been in the past four hundred years, scoring, clicking, and creating momentum. It was a dark, moonless night, and even the stars were dim. Then came what humans would call pain, stinging, burning and the dislocation of a part of me, changing me until I couldn't change anymore. I didn't see her, I didn't see her face, but I felt her magic. Magic that creeps around your protection, magic that tries to find a way to enter and finish what she started. That night, I was saved by a small child who ran away from her mother, scaring the woman away. The time of danger is more imminent than we imagined and we are all possible victims in having our time abruptly ended, including myself."
Hermione was unresponsive for some time, her brain overloaded trying to process and absorb all the information she suddenly received from the clock. Just when she thought she could take the time to understand what was going on, and to sort out all of the questions that popped into her mind, the clock began to resonate in her mind once again.
"After many attempts to create a stable link between our magical cores, and with the added physical connection of your hand to myself, we are finally able to communicate for a long enough period of time for me to tell you a long story. I have existed in this form for 427 years, when a witch named Malika, with her great ability to shape magic, created me. But understand, my parts as wood, metal and stone have been around for a long time. Long before I was forged in the land that you now call France, where parts of me were born, it was named Lascaux. This was a beautiful, prosperous kingdom, free from magical corruption and arcane control. It was a place where what you call 'elves' roamed free, and everyone had the right to evolve and exist. And what you now know as Veela, were called Samodiva. Those creatures were akin to forest nymphs, faerie creatures that took on a human's form to hide in plain sight of the ancient Celts. Prejudice started a long time ago, even before humans, in their medieval and mediocre forms, wanting to understand what magic was. The Samodivas protected the lands of Lascaux, taking the appearance of beautiful women, with long hair, they were ethereal maidens who brought about an end to many men and women. Using their natural magic, they seduced and created the illusion that they were flying in a cloak full of feathers. Samodivas were great manipulators of fire magic and in their natural form, they were like birds with golden and orange feathers, burning along the sky in deadly flight. Great dancers as well, they learned to use their bodies as an exceptional weapon, their dances symbolizing the raw energy of nature and the supernatural world. Their voices were hypnotic and could drive a man crazy, magic that they learned to use and that today, their modern counterparts still use. The so-called 'Thrall' is actually an ancient magic, controlled and thought to be performed, which is why an adult Veela can use this 'Thrall' at her own command. But they were few, and their biggest flaw was their great love for the new and the powerful. They searched for strong partners, and pure Samodivas were rare, and little by little there were not many left to form pairs. The three sisters Rusalki, Valkirya and Ravijojla found their soulmates in three different women from the ancient world. Valkirya fell in love with a Celtic named Elora, and they started the European clans. Raijojla loved until her last day Amuniritis, an Egyptian priestess of Amen-Ra, and were the origin of the Eastern and African clans. And lastly, Rusalki met Mahkah, the two being the origin of the clans of the Americas. The Samodiva figures changed, as has their name, Samovilas, Vilas, Vela, Veela. And that brings us to Malika, the heir to many future generations of Elora and Valkirya, daughter of the flame of the sun. She manipulated the natural world to always be aware of her sisters, the only one with her name and power. She created me. And that brings us to you, Hermione Granger. The daughter of many daughters, the heiress with diluted blood and now without samodiva magic. Even so, the magical heiress of Valkyria will always find the magical heiress of Elora. After all, soulmates will always meet. The concept of soulmates is confusing in this modern world where there are billions in the world. You must understand that magical soulmates are not so easy to find, as they are fragments of a primary soul. A primary soul is old and has been divided into many pieces. However, only two of these pieces can connect harmoniously to each other. This is what creates this so-called soulmate. It is as if a small, invisible line, bound these two fragments, these two magical cores. Soulmates can connect deeply, exchanging energy, desires and memories. That line is part of you, uniquely yours and especially yours. Veela have the ability to feel when their magical nucleus resonates in tune with another, and sometimes they, the veela, find the one who sings in the same tone, rhythm and music. At that moment, the soul mates meet and the thread of destiny and of the souls that unite them, gains a color of their own. Today, it is normal for a Veela to be unaware of the depth of their connection with their own magical core and how it affects their soulmate. You, unlike other humans, are very attuned to your own magical core, just like Elora. And Fleur Delacour has a great magical reserve, as does Valkyria. As you may have been thinking, the two of you are fragments of the perfect fit from these two souls that were completely connected previously. Successors of Elora and Valkyria, the hand that controls, and the hand that ignites. Now, will you create a fire or a firestorm? It depends entirely on you. Farewell, Hermione, the daughter of many daughters, the heir of Elora."
The connection had unexpectedly started, and the magic of the clock was strong, vibrant, and warm, so its abrupt disappearance left a cold line running along Hermione's magical core. The witch raised a hand to the center of her chest, feeling her heart beating as it should. But she felt something was sorely missed. But it was with these thoughts that she had to return to work. She barely noted the time passing, and at her request Galan left a table, chair and a hot plate of food next to the dome. Hermione took only a few breaks throughout the day, just to eat, and once during that time to go to the bathroom. She hardly saw any of the Delacour women and even though she missed Fleur, she wanted to finish the clock work as quickly as possible, feeling an urgency in her magical core that she couldn't explain. She also felt uncomfortably observed, but when she looked around, she spotted no one.
The hours passed and the moon eventually shone in the sky. She summoned some candles, set them floating around her table, and Hermoine continued to work deliberately, until the sun dawned with the first morning light and the movement within the village resumed. A few women noticed that Hermione had worked throughout the night, and that in a few hours she would have been there for twenty-four hours. She pursued her tasks, moved by a force beyond her, while the exhaustion seemed minimal. The hunger, the thirst, everything else dissipated as if a curtain fell, and she was focused, more focused than she normally would be. Her brain was without extraneous thoughts, just focused on building, fixing and creating.
Eventually she came to a realization, with her hands flat on her table, her hair that had previously been tied up into a bun, falling awkwardly along her face. Her sleeves were dirty with dust, there were small cuts all over her hands, and she was sweaty and in need of a good, long bath. But this was it, Hermione had finished. She completed all the pieces she had needed. She looked at the parts in amazement, passionate amazement. She was done!
"It's midday, ma lionne, you've been there for over twenty-four hours. Come on, shall we eat and rest?" Fleur's concerned voice broke in Hermione's ecstatic musing. She looked up from the pieces and turned her head, facing Fleur. And for a tiny millisecond, it was like there was indeed a red line like the magical nature of fire, around the Veela. Hermione blinked, and the red line disappeared. She then smiled, and it caused Veela's furrowed eyebrows to relax, and the blonde smiled shyly back. The brunette then quickly patted at her clothes, attempting to get some dust off, and approached Fleur. The French woman grinned at her, and Hermione didn't even think about what she was doing. There in the sunlight breaking at noon, in the middle of the village, she leaned over and joined her mouth to Fleur's.
"I finally finished the pieces," She revealed, pulling herself away from Fleur's mouth and smiling at the sight of Veela's flushed cheeks. "So yes, come on. I need a shower, to eat, and to spend time with you." Without a second glance, Hermione grabbed Fleur's hand and pulled her toward the direction of the Delacour Manor.
HGFDHGFDHGFDHGFD
Hermione could never complain about Fleur being with her that whole afternoon. The Gryffindor deserved more than anyone a long break. She finally had something to eat, and Fleur prepared a bubble bath. She felt loved like never before, and it warmed her heart more than anything she could ever imagine. The words of the clock kept ringing in her mind and with Fleur, sitting on the floor next to the bathtub, Hermione explained everything that the clock had revealed, well, resonated into her mind. Fleur was thoughtful for several moments, displaying little reaction, and neither confirming nor denying any knowledge of the subjects the brunette had told her about. When Hermione asked if she was okay, the blonde just smiled, and said that she should talk to her grandmother before she could give any serious opinions, and that she was just very happy to be connected to Hermione in such a beautiful way. Hermione then took a step back and allowed Fleur to contemplate everything they had learned that day.
Fleur was waiting patiently on Hermione's bed while her soulmate finished up her bath. She was feeling calm, as if everything had finally come together. Moreover, she felt good, like finally both she and the Veela magic inside her were in agreement about what they wanted. Falling in love with Hermione felt so easy. And when the brunette appeared at the bathroom door, Fleur just smiled slowly and felt herself blush slightly.
Hermione, who had finally felt her body relax after all that work, saw the blonde sitting on her bed with her cheeks flushed, and just raised an eyebrow curiously.
"Are you okay there?" She asked in amusement.
"Of course, just thinking about what you said to me." Fleur paused as Hermione approached and sat next to the blonde. "The myth of the sisters is well known in Veela culture, being the ones who helped originate everything and everyone. I'm just concerned that the Clock has revealed this to you and not to other Veela. Those who are prejudiced may judge the tale as an invention." Fleur sighed.
"I will speak to my mother about this, and if necessary, we will also speak to my grandmother. Just keep the story to yourself for now, please. Only until we find out that it is safe to reveal this information." Fleur looked at Hermione with concerned eyes and Hermione smiled in acceptance.
"Of course, Fleur, whatever you ask of me. I consider this a secret of my work, and I told you not only because you were appointed by Sybelle to help me, but also because you are part of that story." Hermione approached Fleur, running her hands over the blonde's jaw and up to her hair. Hermione tucked some unruly strands behind Fleur's ear and smiled. "You are so beautiful that I could just stare at every detail of you for hours."
As if the magic between them flickered, setting off a switch, they started out soft, calm like the rippling waves of a calm sea. A sea that gradually turned stormy and intense. When Hermione leaned over and bit lightly at Fleur's bottom lip, the waves of magic seemed to strike more firmly.
Fleur pulled at Hermione around her waist, and like a fluid dance move, the brunette found herself on her back with Fleur partially on top of her. The kiss that was still tender and light deepened, when the movement of one Hermione's hands tugged at Fleur's hair, making the blonde moan lightly.
Hermione made an effort beyond her physical capacity; she drew Fleur on top of her fully, and then dropped her on her back in the middle of the bed, placing herself between the blonde's legs.
They kissed like a great summer storm, intense and wet, the kisses spread across cheeks, chins, necks.
Hermione's hands moved to Fleur's stomach, and she slowly dragged her nails up, making the Veela gasp and whimper. Her hands up Fleur's shirt, Hermione lowered her warm mouth over the soft skin of the woman's belly. The Gryffindor's hands wandered further up to where they wanted to be, but Hermione's mind made her pause. She looked up, and when she saw that Fleur had her eyes closed, her mouth open taking in heavy breaths, the brunette just nibbled at Fleur's belly, drawing the woman's attention back to herself.
"Are you sure?"
"Please Hermione, you are killing me," Fleur assured her quickly, and blushed deeply at hearing her own voice, sounding as needy as it did.
The brunette's hands went up, passing under the bra's fabric and teasing her soft breasts. Fleur took a deep breath, and when Hermione squeezed her nipples gently, the blonde just moaned loudly. Impatiently, Fleur removed her own shirt, which forced Hermione to let go of her breasts. With the Gryffindor's help, the Veela tossed the bra away. Anxious hands grasped at the brown hair, pulling Hermione's mouth against her pale neck.
Hermione's mouth dragged along slowly, enjoying every bit of exposed skin. She nibbled and licked languidly, enjoying every little breath and sound that came out of the other woman's pink lips. When the Gryffindor's lips reached Fleur's left nipple, the blonde arched up, and in a gasp, begged Hermione to be firmer in her touches. Her lips mixed with teeth and tongue, the louder Fleur moaned and gasped, and the more Hermione got lost in the perfect nipples and the soft skin.
With a pop, Hermione released a breast and went down to Fleur's ribs. She saw a small rhombus birthmark next to Veela's last rib, her mouth went directly there. When she nibbled at the mark, both she and Fleur felt a vibrant surge of magic.
A few seconds later, it was as if Fleur and Hermione were suddenly disconnected from their bodies. A reddish light came over the two women, and they felt themselves being moved within time and space. When they blinked open their eyes, they were watching the scene play out in front of them.
Two women were before them, one who had hair as white as a pristine cloud, with wild curls and a giant smile on her lips. The other possessed bright red hair like a blazing fire, whose demeanor was a little more serious. They were arguing, and the white-haired one tried in vain to calm the redhead.
They were speaking, but nothing seemed intelligible, their speech was like murmurs echoing out of the bottom of a bottle. Even without sound, one could see that they were arguing about something intensely. When the white-haired woman leaned over and kissed the redhead directly on the lips, the redhead pushed the other woman away without a sound, but the two witches watching could easily imagine the sting of the slap.
The two women froze suddenly, looking at each other, shocked by what had happened. The white-haired one started to cry, and the redhead automatically moved closer. They exchanged a few more words, and then hugged. Slowly, just like Fleur and Hermione's first kiss, the two women's mouths came back together. Vibrant red threads surrounded the two women, swirling and slowly inching closer and closer, squeezing the two together, like ethereal threads that wound themselves around the women. As if connecting the two slowly and irrevocably, when the women were fully bound, the red thread vanished.
"I love you, Val." The redhead spoke softly.
"I love you, too, my beautiful Elora." The words had barely been uttered aloud, when a moment later, the redhead's eyes widened suddenly, and a thin stream of blood trickled out of the white-haired woman's mouth. Soon, white clothing was invaded by bright red blood, and Val collapsed in Elora's arms. The redhead crumpled to the ground, as if suffering a strong blow, as if something hit her hard in the belly, and she dropped down next to Val. The blood from a wound in Val's side, and the wound in Elora's belly, began flooding the ground. They slowly lost strength, their magic came undone, and when the feeling of it dissipated entirely, like they were doused in a sudden gush of ice cold water...Fleur and Hermione were thrust back into the bedroom in the Delacour manor. Hermione had her hand planted firmly on her belly, and Fleur had hers on her birthmark.
"Fleur? That was..." Hermione closed her eyes feeling dizzy, letting herself fall against Fleur's body. The Veela moaned slightly, feeling as bad as the brunette. The two hugged each other firmly, eyes tightly shut, finding comfort within each other as they waited for that strange pain to gradually disappear. Neither of them noticed the vivid red strands encircling them slowly fade away.