Chapter 7.
It was a week later and Hermione was lying on her back, staring at the ceiling.
She had watched the sunrise slowly over the course of the small hours of the morning. She still wasn't getting much sleep, stressed about the baby situation.
She rested her hands behind her head, watching the shadows cast across the ceiling.
Ginny, Luna, Harry and Ron had been more than encouraging about her tryst with Amelie at the party. Almost too encouraging, in Hermione's opinion.
Hermione pondered the situation. It had more than proved her attraction to women.
But she hadn't been able to…
Hermione blushed, even though it was just her in the room.
She hadn't been able to finish without thinking about Fleur.
Hermione had deep down always thought of herself as a romantic. Back at Hogwarts, what won her over with Viktor was his sweet nature and their talks in the library. The emotional connection she had to him was what really drove the physical attraction to the next level.
Perhaps she needed that emotional connection to truly enjoy the physical side of things.
But then that left her with Fleur.
The blonde was usually nothing but cold with her. She was stand-offish and most of their interactions over the years had either ended in arguments or eye rolling. How could Hermione have an emotional connection with her?
She hadn't even known that Fleur was the one who nursed her back to health at Shell Cottage when they had slept together.
Could you have an emotional connection to someone and not realise it?
Hermione wished there were credible literature on the subject.
The sun had fully risen for the day and Hermione figured it was an appropriate enough time to get up.
She had taken time off her classes to accompany Fleur to France.
Getting up, Hermione could feel every ache and complaint in her body. She wasn't sure how much longer she could keep going on without getting a decent night's sleep.
She ruffled her hair, fishing out a clean pair of underwear and black jeans and pulling them on. She pulled on a plain white tee and her leather jacket. She groaned as she put on her socks and black Converse.
She'd packed a duffle bag the previous night, which she slung over her shoulder as she headed out the door.
Hermione didn't take much more time getting ready. She simply ate an apple, brushed her teeth and she was gone.
Hermione met Fleur at the train station. France was too far away to Apparate or Floo, especially in Fleur's state, so they were taking a train.
Hermione hadn't seen Fleur since the blonde had tried to sleep with her. Fleur had been so angry and humiliated she had refused to see Hermione since then. She'd communicated solely via owl since then, informing Hermione of the dates of the trip and sending her the train tickets.
Fleur approached her on the platform, a duffle coat on over a loose dress. Instead of impossibly high heeled shoes, she was wearing heeled boots. Hermione supposed that was Fleur's version of comfort. She only had a handbag over her shoulder, which Hermione assumed she had used an extendable charm on.
"Er, hi," Hermione greeted.
Fleur just nodded coldly.
Hermione actually thought she got off easy. She had genuinely been afraid Fleur might immediately snap at her.
The train finally opened to oncoming passengers. Fleur and Hermione stepped in, side by side.
"It is a five-hour train ride to Marseille so I got us a private cabin," Fleur said to Hermione stiffly, "Nothing fancy, but it means we won't be crowded amongst other people."
"Oh… Erm, thanks," Hermione replied, thankful that Fleur was talking to her again.
Consulting her ticket, Hermione pushed through the throngs of people jostling for a space to sit, careful to usher Fleur through after her.
Spotting the cabin, Hermione pulled the door open, stepping back to allow Fleur in first.
Fleur smiled slightly at her. Hermione's hopes raised that Fleur might forgive her.
The cabin was small but pleasant enough. It was two cushioned bench seats facing each other, with a table between them to lean on. Above them was a compartment for bags. Hermione politely took Fleur's handbag from her and placed it into the overhead compartment. Fleur smiled again, lighter this time. Hermione wondered if she was just excited to be going home to France.
Hermione fished out a book from her own bag. She then reached down and picked up her duffle bag, hoisting it up over her head to jam it in the overhead compartment. She momentarily regretted her laziness of not using an extendable or shrinking her bag, but got it in finally.
Her shirt was riding up a bit and she looked down, self conscious. She caught Fleur gazing at the expanse of her midriff that was bared. Hermione blushed, shutting the compartment quickly before pulling her tee down.
Even though Fleur had seen her naked before, Hermione's self-consciousness around anyone seeing her body remained.
Fleur settled into one seat in the cabin and Hermione took the one opposite her.
Hermione felt the heaviness of her exhaustion weighing on her, but the anxiety in the pit of her stomach was keeping her alert. It had been weeks now without a proper night's sleep.
Fleur looked out the window, drumming her fingers on the table that separated them.
The train was beginning to take off.
Hermione decided she should at least address the elephant in the room before the trip commenced.
"I'm sorry about—"
"I don't want to talk about that," Fleur interrupted icily. Her deep azure eyes moved from looking out the window to glare at Hermione. "Ever."
"Okay," Hermione said sheepishly, leaning against the back of the seat.
Fleur kept glaring at her for a moment before slowly turning her gaze out the window again. The train was up to speed now and the scenery was blurring past.
Hermione could feel the tension between them. It was even worse now she had brought up the touchy subject of the last time they had seen each other. Hermione tried to think of a subject that might lighten the mood. She didn't want to sit in tense silence for the entire trip.
"I've never been to the South of France," Hermione ventured, "I have visited France with my parents before, but we stayed around Paris. What is it like?"
Fleur's facial expression thawed and she turned her attention back to Hermione.
"It is beautiful," Fleur smiled, "Marseille is a port city so you get the beauty of the Mediterranean Sea."
"Can't wait to see it," Hermione smiled back. She felt her stomach flutter at Fleur's genuine and beaming smile.
"And the food!" Fleur added excitedly, "The bouillabaisse, the fresh fish… It is unlike anything you can find in London. My parents have a beautiful house and grounds that overlooks the sea. Gabrielle should be there too… Do you remember her from the Triwizard Tournament?"
"Yes," Hermione smiled, nodding, "She was quite small then, like eight?"
"Seven," Fleur smiled fondly, "She is ten years' younger than me."
"So she would be…" Hermione thought for a moment. Fleur was a year and a half, maybe two years older than Hermione herself. That would put her at about twenty-one.
"Eleven," Fleur grinned wider, "She thinks she is a proper teenager now. It is very cute."
"Is she still living with your parents, or just visiting them?" Hermione asked. It was beyond adorable how much Fleur lit up when talking about her younger sister.
"Visiting," Fleur replied, "Now she is eleven, she boards at Beauxbatons. Maman is heartbroken about it. You know how parents can be about their children when they leave home."
"Yeah," Hermione said dully, her spirits suddenly falling again.
Azure eyes watched her curiously.
"Do you visit your parents often?" Fleur asked cautiously.
Hermione swallowed heavily.
"I can't," she replied, looking out the window at the blurry landscape.
Fleur didn't move her gaze from her. It was so intense, Hermione felt like the blonde was almost looking inside her.
The silence extended.
Fleur wasn't pushing her to say anything, but she was clearly waiting for Hermione to say something, with the way she was watching the brunette.
"When… When the war started, I knew that Harry's high profile status would make Ron and I targets too," Hermione sighed, "Ron's family were safer because they're wizards… Also because they're pureblood. Whereas my parents… Muggles… They were quite helpless."
"How did you keep them safe?" Fleur asked. Her full attention was on Hermione now.
"I…" Hermione's voice broke. She cleared her throat and tried again, "I erased myself from their memories. The strongest spell I could do. It was the only way to guarantee that they wouldn't seek me out or get into danger because of me."
Hermione looked back at Fleur, and was startled to see tears streaming down the blonde's face.
"So they don't know who you are?" Fleur asked, "You can't reverse it?"
"Unfortunately not," Hermione said with a sad smile.
Fleur sniffled.
"They'll never know that they're going to be grandparents?" Fleur sobbed, "Fuck… Fucking hormones."
Her crying increased and Hermione was alarmed. She really needed to learn what to do when someone was crying.
"Er, there, there," Hermione soothed, leaning forward and patting Fleur's carefully manicured hand.
Fleur wiped at her eyes with embarrassment.
Hermione always felt a terrible heaviness in her stomach when she spoke of her parents. But somehow it was eased slightly by trying to comfort Fleur and her hormones.
"I'm sorry," Fleur said awkwardly.
"It's fine," Hermione assured.
She looked into Fleur's eyes, surprised by the swirling emotion in the cerulean orbs. Realising she still had her hand on top of Fleur's, Hermione blushed and removed it, her hands retreating back to her side of the table.
Fleur's crying subsided and she frowned, still looking a little embarrassed. But it was soon replaced with a veneer of disinterest and she returned to gazing out the window.
Hermione sighed, at least relieved that Fleur didn't appear to be mad at her anymore.
Hermione decided to read her book.
A couple of hours or so passed as she contentedly read, feeling herself relax. Something about reading had always soothed her, even from a young age.
She was getting a little stiff sitting in the same position and broke her reading to stretch. Her eyes turned to the blonde across the cabin from her.
Fleur was leaning against the window, her eyes shut and her full lips slightly parted. She was breathing slowly and rhythmically, fast asleep.
Hermione felt her heart melt a little at the sight.
Asleep, Fleur looked so sweet. All the coldness was gone from her features. Hermione wondered if this is what Fleur looked like when she truly let her guard down.
Hermione took the luxury of properly looking at Fleur without the risk of setting off her temper. Her hair was loose and Hermione admired how silky smooth it looked, almost like it was liquid. It was a platinum-blonde so light it looked silvery. Hermione's eyes travelled down, noticing the delicate protrusion of Fleur's collarbones and the swell of her breasts. She felt a warmth fire deep within her, remembering the night that she had slept with the blonde…
There was a rapping at the cabin door and Fleur jolted, her eyes flickering open. She frowned as she regained her senses, iciness returning.
Hermione sighed with disappointment, getting up and opening the door.
A kindly old woman was outside the door with a food trolley.
"Mmmn, I'm starving," Fleur commented, sitting up and placing a hand on her stomach.
"What do you want? My treat," Hermione offered. Fleur looked so pretty holding her hand over her and Hermione's unborn child.
Fleur selected some pumpkin cakes and a chocolate frog, happily getting into them before Hermione had even paid.
It made Hermione smile, seeing this more human side of Fleur.
She got herself a couple of pumpkin cakes and thanked the woman before turning back to her book.
Fleur made a small noise of pleasure, wolfing down another pumpkin cake.
For a wild moment, Hermione imagined that this would be what it would be like if she were in a relationship with Fleur. The two of them sitting contentedly together, Hermione making sure that Fleur and the baby were healthy. Getting Fleur all her favourite treats.
Hermione settled back into her book, a smile growing on her face.
Fleur was positively beaming as they arrived in front of the grand steps of the Delacour mansion.
The grounds were sprawling, lush with green grass, beautiful gardens and trees. They were overlooking an ocean and Hermione could see seagulls flying above.
Hermione got out of the carriage they'd taken from the station first, holding out a hand to carefully help Fleur out. Fleur smiled lightly.
A polite butler who had been waiting out front now had their bags and marched up the steps ahead of them.
Hermione went to follow, but Fleur grabbed her arm.
"Hermione," Fleur was talking quietly and seemed a little nervous, "I just want you to know… My mother…"
"Yes?" Hermione asked anxiously. Apolline Delacour was intimidating enough as it was. Hermione wondered what on Earth had Fleur looking antsy.
"She's… Very… Veela," Fleur managed awkwardly, "Just be prepared for that."
"Erm, okay," Hermione replied, very much confused.
Fleur leapt up the steps lightly ahead of her, apparently unwilling to say more on the matter. Hermione hurried to follow her up the steps.
As they entered the mansion, Hermione immediately came to a halt.
In a decadent entranceway, standing in front of a grand staircase, was the most impeccable looking family Hermione had ever seen.
The Delacours looked like something from a stock photo.
Apolline Delacour was standing with her hands clasped carefully in front of her, dressed head to toe in Muggle Chanel clothing. She barely looked older than Fleur, with her hair cut into a short platinum blonde bob. A necklace of expensive pearls was around her neck.
Beside her was a handsome man. He was dressed in a light grey suit with a pink shirt underneath. His hair was black but brushed with grey. He had a tidy beard and moustache that looked very well groomed.
In front of the two parents was a young girl, practically a mini-Fleur.
"Gabrielle!" Fleur exclaimed with joy.
Gabrielle ran forward, throwing her arms around Fleur and ranting excitedly in French.
"Gabrielle," the man Hermione assumed was Fleur's father interrupted gently.
Gabrielle released Fleur guiltily, shuffling and wriggling as she struggled to stay still and composed.
"Bon," the man replied, stepping forward.
"Papa," Fleur greeted warmly, kissing him on each cheek. He beamed and embraced her, but remained reserved.
Apolline swept forward then, pulling Fleur into a hug.
"Fleur," she purred, kissing the cheek of her eldest daughter.
"Maman," Fleur squeezed her mother tightly, "This is Hermione Granger. Hermione, this is my mother, Apolline, my father, Alexandre, and this little delight is Gabrielle."
Gabrielle squirmed even more, careful not to misbehave under the careful eye of her father. Hermione could tell immediately that Fleur got her stoic nature from her father.
"Pleased to meet you all," Hermione said politely, smiling as warmly as she could.
She was incredibly nervous, unsure on how she could win them over before Fleur dropped the bombshell—
"I'm pregnant and Hermione is the other parent," Fleur said simply. Hermione felt the air whoosh out of her lungs.
So soon?! They'd only just walked in the door!
Hermione almost vomited at the sudden abruptness of it all. All three of Fleur's family members were staring at her.
"Magnifique!" Apolline beamed, clapping her hands together, "Oh, Fleur, you are going to make such a stunning mother!"
She swept forward, throwing Fleur into another tight embrace.
"I'm going to be an auntie?!" Gabrielle squealed excitedly, jumping up and down while looking between Hermione and Fleur.
The one person who did not react was Alexandre. He had reached to stroke at his beard and was watching Hermione carefully, an unreadable expression on his face. It appeared Fleur had inherited his poker face.
"Paul, Paul!"
Apolline had released Fleur and was now excitedly waving over the man that had taken their bags earlier.
"Oui, Madame?" he greeted.
"English, please, Paul," Apolline directed in her heavy French accent, "We have a guest. Paul—could you please move Hermione's things to Fleur's room?"
"Non, Maman," Fleur interjected. Apolline attempted to wave her off.
"Nonsense, Fleur," Apolline retorted, "She got you pregnant, no need to be so prudish now."
"Maman!" Fleur yelped, blushing with embarrassment, "It is not like that!"
Apolline snorted.
"You have always been so repressed, Fleur," Apolline replied, "You do not need to be for your parents' sake. I know what it is like, non? The Veela blood runs strong in your veins. You must be anxious for your woman to take you upstairs and—"
"Maman!" Fleur shrieked.
Gabrielle was giggling and Alexandre was still impassively watching Hermione. His grey eyes were staring at Hermione intently.
"Hermione and I are not together," Fleur said emphatically.
Apolline cooled then, stepping back from Fleur and looking from her to Hermione with sudden disapproval. It reminded Hermione awfully of how Fleur would look when Hermione had suddenly upset her.
"This is most improper!" Apolline said haughtily, drawing herself up to her full height.
"Maman, you are too traditional," Fleur said defensively, pouting and crossing her arms across her chest.
"Let us discuss this over dinner," Alexandre interrupted carefully. His accent was the least prominent of all the Delacours. He raised an arm, gesturing elegantly to a doorway.
Hermione followed the family, feeling thoroughly awkward. First Apolline talking about Fleur and her wanting to disappear upstairs to shag, then saying it is improper that they are not together? She was equal parts confused and embarrassed.
Fleur walked slowly, falling into step beside Hermione.
"It is a Veela thing," Fleur said under her breath, "She expects that if someone gets me pregnant we should be together,"
"Oh, well not so different to the views of a traditional human parent," Hermione commented.
"And making love frequently," Fleur added with distaste.
"Oh," Hermione choked, blushing.
"The Veela are very sexual," Fleur half-explained, going silent again once they reached the table.
Alexandre sat at the head of the table. Gabrielle and Apolline sat on one side of the table and Fleur and Hermione across from them. A maid entered and began to lay cloth napkins on their laps.
"Err, thanks," Hermione said uncomfortably. She wasn't used to this level of service.
Apolline Delacour was tapping her manicured fingers agitatedly on her table across from Hermione. Gabrielle was watching Hermione with barely contained excitement.
"What are your intentions for our daughter then?" Apolline asked, raising an eyebrow. She truly was intimidating.
"I… I'm going to fully support Fleur and the baby," Hermione explained, "I'm going to step up."
"But, why are you not with her?" Apolline asked, narrowing her eyes.
"Maman," Fleur interjected, "For the last time, it is not like that."
"Then what is it like, Fleur?" Apolline asked, turning her fiery gaze to her daughter, "I do not understand."
"It was a one-night stand," Fleur said dismissively, "We were both drunk. It won't happen again."
If Hermione wasn't mortified before, she sure was now. She couldn't believe Fleur had just said that in front of her parents and her baby sister.
"Well, then," Apolline huffed, looking icily across the table at Fleur and Hermione, "You will not even share a room with her while you are here?"
"Non!" Fleur insisted.
Her mother sighed, muttering darkly in French.
"She is saying 'what would my mother say?'" Gabrielle explained helpfully to Hermione. Alexandre put a cautionary hand on the youngest Delacour's shoulder, silencing the precocious child.
"Let us eat," Alexandre intervened as the maid returned, placing food in front of them all, "We can discuss all this later."
"Or never," Fleur muttered, earning a glare from her mother.
"So, what do you do for a living, Hermione?" Alexandre asked, fixing his intense grey eyes on Hermione again.
Hermione fumbled nervously with the fork she had just picked up.
"I, uh, I'm a student for now," Hermione said, ducking her head awkwardly.
"Hmmn, an academic woman, huh?" Alexandre queried, "What are you studying exactly?"
"Policy," Hermione said, "I've always been interested in rules and bringing about change."
"Ah, bon," Alexandre replied, finally making a slight smile, "I myself have always been interested in policy. Have you ever thought of working in government?"
"Yes, of course!" Hermione said, relieved to finally get some kind of positive reaction from Fleur's father, "Do you work in government?"
"Oui, now I do," Alexandre replied, "I work as a magical ambassador for the Muggle Government. All very hush, hush though, given the Muggles- as you would expect."
"That's so awesome!" Hermione replied, lighting up, "My parents, they're Muggles—I've always dreamt of a job where I could straddle the two worlds."
Alexandre smiled wider, before looking at Fleur and nodding. Fleur just rolled her eyes at her father.
Hermione felt like she was missing some kind of non-verbal communication between the two.
In the meantime, Apolline began to bicker with Fleur again. This time Hermione stayed well out of it, keeping her attentions on her plate and eating her dinner.
It was fresh fish and a light salad. Simple, but delicious.
As the heated argument switched into French, Hermione took the opportunity to observe the Delacours more closely at the table.
Alexandre was mostly reserved, speaking only rarely. While he was extremely hard to read, Hermione had the impression that overall he was a good man. He seemed quite strict with Gabrielle though, often telling her off for being too boisterous or silly. It appeared that he wanted his daughters to be as reserved as him.
Gabrielle was obviously a very lively girl. She seemed to be almost shimmering with energy, her bright eyes full of amusement and a smile often on her face. While she was practically a miniature Fleur, she seemed like what Fleur would be like if she were less cold. Gabrielle had a warmth and charm about her that Fleur seemed to have trained out of herself long ago.
Apolline was more complex. She had the haughtiness and coldness of both Alexandre and Fleur, but she also had a deep passion to her. She expressed herself freely and forcefully. Hermione was still intimidated by her, but had now realised that there was more to Apolline than she had realised from the brief sightings she had had of her in the past.
Dinner finished up and Alexandre put an end to the arguing, switching the conversation firmly back to English.
"I think you two should reconnect more in private," he said to Apolline and Fleur, "How about you head upstairs with Gabrielle,"
As the women got up and began to leave the table, Alexandre turned to Hermione.
"Hermione, would you indulge in a drink with me in my study?" Alexandre asked.
Hermione nodded, deciding that it would be less risky to share a drink with Alexandre than to gamble with Apolline or Fleur's tempers.
Alexandre steered them down a hallway while the Delacour sisters and Apolline headed upstairs, still thoroughly engrossed in their discussion. Only Gabrielle waved goodnight to Hermione, a broad smile on her face.
Hermione followed Alexandre down the hallway and into a study. She gaped at the large bookshelves packed full of books. It was a large space almost entirely dedicated to housing books, rather than the rest of the house, which was focussed more on architecture and design.
Alexandre walked over to a large plain desk at the end of the room. He took two small tumblers and filled them with an amber liquid, turning back to Hermione and offering her one.
"Erm, thanks," Hermione replied, "What is it?"
"Scotch," Alexandre said with a smile, "Trust me, you'll need that if you're going to be looking after a pregnant Veela."
Hermione took a sip. It burned her mouth and she grimaced, swallowing heavily.
"Err, I guess it takes some getting used to," Hermione said, swirling her tumbler.
"Scotch or Veela?" Alexandre said, grinning, "Because they both do, to be honest. So, how do you really feel about my Fleur?"
"Uh, she's great," Hermione said uncomfortably, thrown off by the sudden question tossed at her.
Alexandre was watching her carefully, sipping at his own drink.
"She doesn't cut you any slack, huh?" Alexandre surmised. Hermione wished she could read the man.
"Not at all," Hermione admitted, with a small smile.
Alexandre cocked his head to one side, regarding Hermione with a careful gaze.
"My advice to you would be not to let her scare you off. Stand your ground," he said quietly, "Apolline can also be very fiery, very intimidating, if you know what I mean, non?"
"I get that," Hermione said, nodding.
"Good," Alexandre said, looking more relaxed, "Now, as a fellow academic and policy-lover, would you like to view my collection of books?"
"I would love nothing more," Hermione said, grinning her head off excitedly.
Hermione headed up to her bedroom later that evening, her head swimming a little from the scotch.
Paul, the butler, was leading her up the stairway to show her the correct room in the vast mansion. He gestured at a door and nodded.
"Erm, thanks," Hermione smiled.
Paul bowed before heading off.
Hermione opened the door, entering the room quietly. The lights were off and Hermione was too exhausted to bother to turn them on.
Instead, she stripped down, shedding her shoes and socks clumsily. She tossed her leather jacket on the floor too, followed by her jeans and tee. She hadn't worn a bra that day and padded towards the shadowy shape of the bed wearing just her boyshort underwear.
She barely managed to pull the blankets back when she collapsed into the bed, her eyes flickering shut.
The scotch seemed to be aiding her difficulty with sleeping, as she began to drift off almost immediately.
Hermione awoke with a start.
It was still dark but her head was clear now. Hermione assumed she had only been asleep for a couple of hours or so. She realised she had a warmth wrapped around her.
"Fleur?"
"Hmmmn?" Fleur sleepily replied, "What are you doing in my room?"
Hermione jumped up in bed, startled.
"I asked Paul to show me to my room," Hermione yelped.
Fleur was properly awake now, sitting up a little and rubbing her eyes tiredly.
"Ah, my mother did tell him to put our things in the same room earlier," Fleur said, before her eyes adjusted to the dimness in the room, "Are you naked?"
Hermione blushed to the roots of her hair. She was glad for the darkness of the room.
"A-are you?" Hermione choked out, processing the softness and warmth of the blonde still entangled with her.
"Oui, I always sleep naked," Fleur replied matter-of-factly, "You woke me up Hermione."
"Erm, sorry," Hermione mumbled, "I'll just get up and get changed. Then I can find my room…"
"Non, do not be ridiculous, you can stay," Fleur insisted, growing a little irritated, "Besides, I am not getting up to show you where your room is."
Hermione slid back down in the bed, trying to get settled again. She was highly aware that Fleur was still very much wrapped around her and naked.
She exhaled heavily.
It was dark, Fleur couldn't see her scars or imperfections. Hermione felt herself relaxing.
"I'm actually a little excited to have a kid," Hermione murmured aloud, "It's definitely well ahead of schedule. But, I have always wanted children."
She could feel Fleur smile against her collarbone. The blonde's head was resting on her chest and Hermione was worried that she could hear her heart pounding hard.
Fleur's arm was slung across Hermione's waist, holding her tightly. It felt really right.
"I always imagined having children too," Fleur said quietly, "Pregnancy is just… a lot more full-on than I thought it would be."
"That's why I'm here," Hermione murmured, "I'm going to help you through it all."
Fleur murmured sleepily, nestling even closer in to Hermione.
Hermione could feel it as Fleur's breathing slowed. As Fleur fell into slumber, Hermione's own eyes began to feel heavy.
"Oh, yes!"
Hermione's eyes snapped open again. It was morning now. She was still very much entangled with Fleur. She was lying on her back with an arm tightly around Fleur's shoulders. Fleur's head was resting on her bare chest, her arm still around Hermione's waist. One of her legs was nestled between Hermione's.
But that wasn't what had Hermione startled.
At the foot of the bed was Apolline Delacour and the butler, Paul. Apolline was clapping her hands together excitedly.
Hermione, mortified that the sheets had slipped down enough to reveal their nudity, quickly pulled them up again. Fleur sat up, rubbing at her eyes.
"What on Earth are you on about, Maman?" Fleur grumbled, "Why are you in here so early?"
"Early? It is past eleven!" Apolline replied, "You were sleeping so late I came to check on you!"
Past eleven? Hermione hadn't slept for as long as that since this entire pregnancy debacle had begun. She was shocked.
"Yes, well, Hermione woke me up in the middle of the night," Fleur growled, moving herself away from the brunette in the bed.
"Ah, I see how it is," Apolline purred, "Your father is the same way with me, you know. No-one can resist a Veela, non?"
"Maman!" Fleur exclaimed, horrified.
"Nothing to be ashamed of, Fleur," Apolline said with a large smile, her eyes switching between Fleur and Hermione.
"There is nothing going on between us," Fleur insisted, a little aggravated now.
"Mmn, sure, sure," Apolline smiled, nodding at Paul, "A mother has intuition, Fleur. Besides, this," Apolline gestured at the two of them in bed, "does not look platonic."
"Maman," Fleur growled, she glanced sideways at Hermione before switching to French to speak to her mother. They bickered a little, but Apolline could not stop smiling, apparently appeased by finding Hermione and Fleur in bed together.
Finally, thankfully, Apolline and Paul left, shutting the door behind them.
Fleur groaned, getting up from bed and stretching in the late morning light.
Hermione's eyes ran down the incredible body of Fleur Delacour. Her back was toned and she had two little dimples at the base of her back. Her backside, well, Hermione was convinced that Fleur had the best ass in all of Europe.
Hermione felt self conscious in the light, pulling the sheets tightly up to her chin. Fleur flung the windows open, turning back to face Hermione.
Hermione's eyebrows raised and her jaw slackened as she looked at Fleur. Her long platinum blonde hair was loose and tumbling down her shoulders. Her breasts were not overly large, but firm and full. Her toned stomach was beginning to show the pregnancy, a bump and curve to it. Fleur rested her hand on her stomach, on top of the small bump.
"Maman cannot be convinced," Fleur sighed, frustrated, "But on the upside, at least suspecting we are together will keep her from nagging me."
"Right," Hermione said, dazed. She was staring at Fleur, unable to take her eyes off her.
"Okay, we should get up," Fleur said impatiently, "I want to go out in Marseille."
"Er, do you mind turning around while I get out of bed?" Hermione asked quietly.
Fleur paused while rummaging through her handbag, looking at Hermione with disbelief.
"Are you serious?" Fleur asked her flatly.
"Uhh," Hermione couldn't muster a response, she was too embarrassed. She knew that she was pushing Fleur's fragile temper, but she couldn't help how awkward she felt about her body.
Fleur huffed and pulled some clothes out of her bag, storming across the room and into an ensuite bathroom. She slammed the door, causing Hermione to jump.
Hermione leapt out of bed and over to her duffle bag in the corner of the room. She pulled out some clothes and hurriedly got dressed. Some blue jeans with ripped knees, a plain white tee and a plaid shirt over the top. She pulled on her black Converse, running her hand through her curls to detangle them.
The door to the bathroom opened and Fleur stepped out, dressed in a flowy skirt and a strappy singlet top. Her hair was impeccably groomed, running down her shoulders like silk.
She walked past Hermione wordlessly, still very much in a mood.
Hermione sighed. It was all part of the package with pregnant Fleur.