A/N: I had a guest question about Veela mates and the answer is no, there are no Veela mates in this story. Also, just wanted to say I mainly use book canon as the background for this story except for the scar on Hermione's arm because I like that little movie addition.

Chapter 2

It was early in the morning. The sun had just come up and Hermione was outside standing on a dune, looking at the sea and the dawn. The wind whipped her hair, and even with it tied back, she knew she would have quite the time brushing it out later. But right now, she didn't care. It was the first morning she felt well enough to step outside of Shell Cottage on her own and she enjoyed the solitude, even if it was colder than she would have liked.

Then she felt it. The warmth that blanketed her as she heard chuffs through the sand approaching her.

"I was sure I had more time to myself," chuckled Hermione, not looking behind her.

The chuffing sounds stopped.

Hermione could feel the warmth shift to indecision. She liked feeling it. She liked that she was one of the few who could.

"It's okay, Fleur. Please join me," Hermione said softly.

And then it was warmth again as Fleur finished her approach and stood beside her. When she'd first arrived to Shell Cottage, in pain and broken, Fleur shared many things about her background and about the Veela. Stories, history, family jokes. They were meant as a distraction, something to take her mind off the awful marks on her body, the word carved into her arm. One of these things was how a Veela's thrall was not felt in the same way by everyone. Some, mainly those not attracted to women, did not feel it at all. Most of those who were attracted to women felt an allure in varying degrees ranging from faint attraction to overwhelming need. Frequent exposure, as well as strength of mind, dulled this response over time. And there were also those few who could feel it as Hermione felt it: an extension of Fleur's emotional state.

To Hermione, Fleur's thrall was almost a physical entity but she didn't always feel it. She understood this to mean that when she did, it meant Fleur wanted to be open, that she was trying to be herself around her. When Fleur was feeling closed-off or she put a tight rein over her thrall, Hermione could feel next to nothing. Fleur didn't always have this control. During her fourth year at Hogwarts, Fleur's thrall felt wild. Even with that icy façade, Hermione could feel it bubbling underneath, though she never said anything about it to her friends. It annoyed her to no end how it affected Ron and the other students. She'd preferred to focus on keeping Harry alive. But apparently control came as Fleur matured. Hermione couldn't always pin down exactly what it was that Fleur was feeling, positive feelings were generally warm and negative feelings were generally cold, but she was getting better at interpreting her facial expressions coupled with the thrall. In observing the other occupants of the cottage, it seemed the only ones who felt Fleur's thrall in this way were her and Luna Lovegood. Not even Bill could feel this part of his wife and for some reason this made Hermione happy. She wasn't quite sure why.

After a long time standing together in silence, Fleur put a hand on Hermione's shoulder. Hermione quickly raised the hand of the arm opposite of the one being touched and gripped Fleur's hand, pressing it tighter against her shoulder. She was scared. There was still so much danger ahead. Yet feeling Fleur's touch comforted her. Until she'd come under Fleur's care, the blonde had practically been a stranger. Now Hermione couldn't imagine a day without her being near.

"You will be fine, 'Ermione Granger," murmured Fleur.

And even though there was still the horcrux hunt and the plan to break into Gringotts, Hermione believed her.

Hermione continued to stare indecisively at the woman who'd knocked on her hotel door.

Fleur Delacour.

What was she doing here?

Her blue eyes were dancing with mischief. The slightest smirk teased the corner of her mouth.

And she was still so goddamned beautiful.

Hermione was also put on edge by Fleur's thrall. Instead of covering her in warmth and affection like it had done in the past, it was hesitant. It reached out and pulled back, and then repeated the cycle. There was that infuriating amusement on Fleur's face but there was also something else, something she couldn't place.

She knew Fleur was waiting for Hermione to say something. Something absurd, something so typically Hermione Granger, like launch into a rambling tirade about making a mistake or an explanation for why this wasn't what it looked like. Any number of things that would make Hermione look like a fool and reveal her humiliation about what she had been expecting to happen tonight.

But she was done with being a fool in front of Fleur. Hermione stoked the embers of her long-dimmed fury over their ended friendship, over Fleur's refusal to answer her letters as her marriage was falling apart, and let it fuel a resolve to treat Fleur as the night's hire that she was, which may not have been true. There were many reasons why Fleur had knocked on her door. In this moment, however, she wasn't feeling rational.

"Hello, Fleur. I wasn't expecting you but I trust you've been briefed on tonight's purpose?"

Hermione was very proud of the tone she used. Neutral, business-like, with a dash of coldness.

For some inexplicable reason, and it was so fast that she almost didn't see it, Fleur's face fell. The expression was quickly replaced by that icy exterior Hermione had known all those years ago but if she didn't know any better, she would say it had looked like disappointment. Her thrall had withdrawn so Hermione couldn't be sure but it was puzzling. There was no time to dwell, unfortunately. Hermione may not have a thrall to control but she still had emotions and they were going haywire.

Fleur gave a curt nod and Hermione stepped aside, letting her into the room. As the blonde walked by, Hermione inhaled the soft perfume and closed her eyes, remembering how the citrusy floral scent had always made her feel in the past. Her hand gripped the door, so tempted to apparate away, to escape this mortifying moment where Fleur knew she'd hired someone to have sex with.

But unlike Fleur, she wasn't a coward.

Hermione closed the door and engaged the lock. Then in a bit of wandless magic, she set locking and silencing wards.

The blonde looked around the suite, taking a passing glance at the king size bed on the far right of the room, and walked straight ahead to the sofa, setting her handbag on the floor next to the coffee table before sitting down. Hermione watched her take a bracing breath and then turn to look at her.

Normally Hermione would do all she could to make the Veela smile. But now, she silently took in Fleur's appearance. She was dressed in a dark blue pants suit, the material probably a high-quality wool, and if not for the four-inch heels it looked like Fleur was dressed for the office and not a date. The jacket seemed to flow over Fleur's upper body as if it were a shawl. It was elegant. Her hair was pulled up in a loose bun and she wore hardly any makeup. Maybe some liner on the eyes but that was it. This only made Fleur more beautiful in Hermione's eyes. She liked seeing the unmasked skin of her face, the true color of her lips. Fleur looked gaunt compared to the last time she saw her, the lines of her jaw and nose looking sharper, sterner, and yet they still seemed just as delicate as they ever were.

Hermione scoffed and began pacing again. Her mind finally allowed itself to race through the possibilities of why she was here.

The obvious scenario was that Ginny had contacted Fleur directly and sent her here tonight. Fleur had nodded before walking in which meant she definitely knew why Hermione was in this hotel room. But that she had come at all… was that an agreement to fulfill the transaction? Or was she here to make fun of her? There was a thread here that Hermione was terrified of pulling. She decided to ignore it for now.

Less obvious: Fleur was an actual escort and she was the only French Veela at the agency Ginny contacted. It had been eighteen months since she'd last seen her and during the couple of years before that, their friendship, their wonderful friendship that had meant everything to Hermione, had faded away. Anything could've happened in that time period. But if she was an actual escort, when did it happen? Why? Did Fleur need help?

What if Fleur wasn't an escort but had agreed to Ginny's proposal because she was in need?

What if, what if…

Hermione continued to pace and glare at Fleur now and then, trying to figure it out. She could've asked. She should've asked. But she was still so angry. At one particularly long glare, Fleur cleared her throat and tilted her head.

"Are you done looking?"

"And now you speak to me," Hermione spat out.

She watched how her words lashed across Fleur's face. The guilt and shame. It made Hermione furious. It made her remember things she tried so hard to forget.

It was the last of the funerals for the fallen at the Battle of Hogwarts. Hermione didn't think she could take any more sadness and walked away before all the eulogies had been spoken. As the other ones had been, this funeral was held on school grounds in the Great Hall, and Hermione wandered amongst the wreckage. She knew she was going back to finish her final year, which was why she kept walking, kept forcing herself to look at everything before they finished cleaning it all up. She wandered until she couldn't stand being inside the castle any longer and she found herself outside near the Black Lake. Staring out at the water, she didn't notice that she had company until a soft hand took hers.

Turning her head, she smiled. It was Fleur. And she was so happy to see her. So happy it brought tears to her eyes.

"You will be fine, 'Ermione Granger," said Fleur softly.

Hermione nodded, remembering how Fleur had said this to her on the dunes and other times at Shell Cottage.

"How do you know?"

"I just know."

"Can we keep in touch? I'm sure we'll see each other at the Burrow but I'd also like us to be friends. Real friends."

"Oui, I would like that very much," replied Fleur, squeezing her hand.

Hermione had written. Countless letters. Telling her about her trip to Australia, about finding her parents and undoing the memory charm but that they struggled with understanding why she did what she did. She wrote about school, how disconnected she felt. Hermione confided in her about Ron and her lack of enthusiasm for the relationship. Fleur wrote back, hardly ever sharing about her life with Bill, mostly offering observations on what Hermione left out of her letters and soothing her worries.

When they had seen each other at the Burrow, Hermione included her in all her conversations with Ginny. She reminded Molly as often as she could about how Fleur was the one that helped her recover after she'd been hurt. Hermione could see how these efforts paid off, how Fleur became more accepted by the Weasley women. It bothered her how Bill had made none of these efforts, how he left it all to Fleur to work through. He was a nice man and never treated Fleur badly but it never occurred to him that he could do more to help his wife be part of the family.

Often times, she and Fleur would take walks to escape the Burrow and its chaos. They would hold hands or link arms. Being held by Fleur always made Hermione feel warm, the thrall surrounding the two of them making it as if they were the only people in the world. Her heart would race and she would blush at Fleur's glances and teases. Hermione didn't know why Fleur made her feel that way but she liked it. She liked it a lot. When she started working at the Ministry, she and Fleur would often meet up during lunch or after work. Their talks would last hours sometimes; they would converse about their work and life, the unfair laws that favored purebloods, the mistreatment of magical creatures, their dreams for a quiet, peaceful life. Again, Fleur rarely discussed Bill or her marriage and Hermione didn't feel comfortable asking. Hermione also stopped talking about Ron. It didn't seem right to include him in those precious moments with Fleur. Those moments were theirs and theirs alone.

Things changed when she became engaged to Ron. Fleur became more distant. She made excuses over missed lunches or unanswered letters. At family get-togethers at the Burrow, Fleur was able to avoid Hermione without making it look like she was avoiding her. Some chit-chat here and there but she wouldn't take walks with her anymore. Fleur wouldn't be alone with her anymore.

"Has she said anything about me, Ginny?" Hermione asked. They were at a dress shop, looking at wedding dresses.

Ginny bit her lip and seemed to think over her response. "Occasionally. Mostly about your wedding and how busy I am as maid of honor."

"Is she mad at me? I feel like we haven't spoken in ages. It's frustrating… I miss her," Hermione said, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. Her heart felt like it ached in how much she missed Fleur. She didn't know why it hurt so much but she felt like she was missing something. Something was happening and it was going over her head.

"She and Bill are having issues. I can't go into more than that but things aren't looking good. You can't tell her I told you, though."

"Right," Hermione said softly, feeling guilty. If Fleur was having marital problems, then she would stop being so selfish and try to be there for her friend in whatever way she needed.

Things only got worse. Fleur stopped coming to the Burrow. Bill was now the one making excuses for his wife and with every missed opportunity to see her friend, Hermione sank further into sadness. On her wedding day, Bill arrived saying that a work trip came up unexpectedly for Fleur. It was the latest blow to her heart and Hermione felt abandoned. And angry.

Transitory glimpses of the Veela over the next eighteen months after her wedding hardened Hermione even further. She stopped writing to her. She stopped asking Ginny for updates. Hermione focused her attentions on work and her marriage but over that first year she started to notice things that she'd previously kept blinders on over. It was only in Fleur's absence that she could see how she'd used their friendship to satisfy what Ron couldn't. And it was so glaringly obvious, Hermione didn't know how she'd missed it. She and Ron just weren't compatible. As nice and thoughtful as he tried to be, he had no patience or interest to discuss the things that interested her. He didn't like how she could get lost in research for hours on a weekend instead of spending the free time with him. Sex was infrequent and unsatisfying. Ron was able to keep up a good front with her that first year, which allowed her to try to bury the doubts and unhappiness that had grown but he caught on after a disastrous attempt at romance on their first anniversary. The next six months were brutal. They frequently fought over what he needed and wanted. Some of Ron's expectations were unreasonable but Hermione had to admit, some of them weren't. And it never occurred to her to demand from him what she'd been able to so easily get from her friendship with Fleur.

It wasn't until a New Year's Eve party at the Burrow that Hermione began to realize why that was.

A/N: I know. It went from hilarity to something more painful. It's just where the story took me.

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zerodawn22: Many thanks!

DutchDreams: Thank you. Yes, more! I don't know how many chapters total yet but my current guess is under 10.

Dipsauce: Thank you so much, I'm glad you like it so far.

Guests: Thanks for your comments and for reading. Hopefully this latest chapter doesn't disappoint.