Chapter 12.
"A coffee for you, a tea for me," Hermione smiled, dropping a mug in front of Fleur. She was still full of angst about her impending trial but she was beginning to find small joys in doing things for Fleur. She liked looking after her. She liked Fleur looking after her.
'It's almost like we're in a kind of relationship…' Hermione thought idly, as Fleur thanked her and gratefully took her coffee.
Hermione shook her head, not wanting to dwell on what she couldn't have.
"Do you want to go to the market this morning?" Fleur asked, looking up from her notes. Hermione nodded, eager for some fresh air and a chance to stretch her legs outside of the small flat.
"Absolutely," Hermione replied, "I think they're warming up to me a bit there, too! Despite all the press about me being a killer."
Fleur snorted.
"Magical creatures and those that are part blooded know better than to believe the word of wizards at face value," Fleur responded, returning to her notes.
Hermione was curious.
"Do you have much to do with… You know…" Hermione began.
"My Veela heritage?" Fleur said, looking up with an amused smile, "People are always so scared to say it. It's not a dirty word."
"Sorry," Hermione replied, "I hate when people do that with me being a Muggle-born. I just wasn't sure how at ease you were with it."
"I get that," Fleur replied, flipping her hair over her shoulder, "My mother ensured Gabrielle and I were well-acquainted with our heritage. The thrall kicks in quite young, you know? We needed to know why people were drawn to us and that their intentions were not always good. The Veela are quite secretive about their culture, it was very rewarding getting in touch with that part of our heritage."
"Oh… I didn't even think about the thrall kicking in young," Hermione replied as she headed to get the grocery bags from the cupboard. She had visions of blonde children with shadowy large men following them. She shuddered at the thought.
Fleur joined her, putting on a jacket.
They headed off to the markets, Hermione enjoying the time out of the flat with Fleur. Their hands kept brushing and Hermione felt a thrill running through her each time they touched. They had woken up cuddling again that morning.
'Dangerous territory, Granger,' Hermione counselled herself. She gave a sideways look at Fleur. Fleur was actually smiling this morning. Hermione knew she liked the cuddles and closeness as much as her. 'Would it really be so bad to…?'
The back of Hermione's hand brushed Fleur's again.
'Fuck it, I could be in prison soon,' Hermione thought wildly, throwing caution to the wind. She took Fleur's hand in hers. Fleur blushed, looking at Hermione with surprise. But she didn't remove her hand.
They walked through the stalls, hand in hand.
They only stopped holding hands when they would purchase and bag up some fruit or vegetables, before holding hands again. Hermione couldn't keep the smile off her face. She couldn't remember the last time she had smiled this much in one day.
"Do you think this is crossing a line?" Fleur asked as Hermione ran her thumb over Fleur's.
"I'm sure friends hold hands all the time," Hermione said dismissively.
Fleur didn't look convinced, but nodded.
"Fleur Delacour-Weasley," a very tall, very thin man greeted Fleur. She released Hermione's hand immediately, an icy look coming over her features.
"Do I know you?" Fleur asked.
The man was wearing an old-fashioned black three-piece suit. He had white hair that was balding on top and a thin moustache. His face looked strained, as if his skin was stretched too far over his features.
"I am an avid follower of you career," the man said, extending a hand, "Charles Pearson."
Fleur's eyes narrowed suspiciously. She didn't take the man's hand.
"Are you a former faculty member or student of Hogwarts?" Fleur asked, stepping a little in front of Hermione.
"No, no, nothing like that," Charles replied, "I am a rather proud graduate of Durmstrang Institute. I take it that this is Hermione Granger, then?"
He peered over Fleur, attempting to look at Hermione. Hermione felt her shoulders tense. Everything about this man was setting her teeth on edge. She didn't trust him in the slightest.
"What are you doing at this market?" Fleur asked haughtily. She was peak Ice Queen now; Hermione could tell she was just as uncomfortable with this stranger as she was.
"Well, yes, I suppose most that frequent these markets are magical creatures," the man replied with a polite smile, folding his hands on his stomach.
"All those that frequent here are magical creatures," Fleur replied, "Or at least partially so."
The man chuckled.
"You got me there," Charles laughed, "I came here with the hopes of running in to you."
Fleur sneered at the man. Hermione wondered how the man could possibly withstand the iciness of Fleur right now.
"Why on Earth would you want to run into me?" Fleur said in a low and dangerous tone.
"You seem quite friendly with your client here," Charles smiled, still impervious to Fleur's coldness.
"We know each other through Harry Potter and my husband's family," Fleur responded in a clipped tone, "So yes, we are already acquainted with each other. I fail to see why this is any of your business."
"A very successful career, Mrs Delacour-Weasley," Charles said with a wide smile, showing slightly yellowing long teeth, "Almost as decorated as Ms Granger's academic pursuits or heroism."
"What is your point?" Hermione interrupted, unable to bear the suspicious presence of the man any more.
"No point," Charles chuckled, "It was nice to meet you both. So fascinating to meet Mrs Delacour-Weasley and Ms Granger in person."
He bowed his head and then walked off through the crowd, not even stopping at any of the stalls.
"We're leaving," Fleur said stiffly, not looking at Hermione.
"Do you know who he is?" Hermione asked. Fleur shook her head.
"Non, but I really do not trust him," Fleur replied. They disapparated immediately, back to the flat.
Hermione was restless the remainder of the day. Fleur seemed extra distant, the cuddling and hand-holding now firmly behind them.
Hermione was just finishing her work out when Fleur walked over to her, stressed.
"He is a politician," Fleur said, frowning.
"What?" Hermione asked, stretching.
"Charles Pearson," Fleur replied, "A politician. He's at a rally right now, in fact."
"Really?" Hermione was feeling stressed now. It was all very suspicious.
Fleur crossed the room to a small radio, turning it on and adjusting the station.
"…We know that the last Great Wizarding War was heroic and saved us all from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named… But was the winning side really the right side?"
"What on Earth?" Hermione gaped.
"…We can see from recent news that the prominent figures of this movement are no better than the figureheads of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's side. We have Hermione Granger murdering innocents, Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley violently breaking in to Gringotts… What we can see from this turn of events is that the Order of the Phoenix and the Death Eaters are just as bad as each other…"
"Fucking hell," Fleur cursed, running a hand through her hair. They could hear deafening cheers over the radio.
"…My esteemed colleague Dolores Umbridge, head of the Wizengamot, supports me when I say we should focus on justice. True justice—not some mafia justice peddled by the late Dumbledore. We have formed a new political party, The Justice Party, and I will be formally submitting myself as a candidate for Minister of Magic. A key part of my platform will be ensuring that both the Death Eaters and The Order of the Phoenix are put away. We must ensure these violent extremist groups are not exposed to society. Gone are the days of extremism!"
Roars of cheers broke out again over the radio.
"Umbridge?!" Hermione choked, "She's a Death Eater in pink clothing! This is just the Death Eaters re-branded!"
"I agree…" Fleur conceded, "They're distancing themselves from the former image of the Death Eaters. They know that nobody rational in society these days would support the Death Eaters. Of course they would have to start up a new group to get away from all the baggage."
"And writing off the Order as another extremist group?" Hermione said, scratching her head, "Smart. Horrific… But smart. Setting themselves up as a sensible representative of the people compared to that? The average wizard sitting at home is going to be drawn to that."
"It makes me even more suspicious of him seeking us out at the market," Fleur said, looking tense.
"Surely a friend of Dolores Umbridge doesn't look kindly on magical creatures, yeah," Hermione agreed, "He was definitely up to something."
Fleur turned off the radio angrily, before returning to the small table to pore over her notes. She looked even more stressed out than usual.
Hermione felt an anger boiling under the surface already.
'The Justice Party… Of all fucking names…' Hermione seethed. She wondered if Pansy was wrapped up with them. Hermione hoisted herself up on her pull-up bar, needing to burn off the anger before she punched a wall.
Hermione worked out until she couldn't any longer, leaning against a wall, exhausted. Fleur was still wildly scratching on her parchment.
"Fleur?" Hermione called out.
"Yeah?" Fleur looked up. Her beautiful face was pinched with stress.
"Do you think maybe I'm totally, totally fucked?" Hermione sighed, "If this is all a big political set up? That crowd sounded so wrapped up in everything Pearson had to say."
Fleur sighed.
"We just have to try our best, Hermione," Fleur said, running a hand tiredly through her hair.
That night Hermione lay in bed with her hands behind her head, staring at the ceiling of the flat. She hadn't been able to relax all day. Not with the news of the Justice Party.
Everything was suddenly falling together. The framing of the Golden Trio. Umbridge's appointment to the Wizengamot. Hermione felt a horrible heavy weight in her stomach. She couldn't think of a way to get out of this one. It was one thing when Fleur and her were trying their best to work the justice system to free Hermione. But when the justice system… everything… were rigged by this political party? A political party that was clearly just the Death Eaters in disguise?
Fleur came into the bedroom, smoothing her nightgown as if nothing were wrong.
Hermione had entirely forgotten their sexual tension and confused relationship in light of the recent news.
'So we cuddle… So we hold hands sometime…?' Hermione thought to herself rubbing her forehead, 'I think we're doing pretty well of not crossing the line.'
Fleur climbed into bed, rolling over to face the wall.
"I can't concentrate… This Justice Party is stressing me out," Fleur admitted, "I think I just need to sleep."
Hermione turned the lights out and rolled on her side, coming to spoon Fleur from behind.
"It's stressing me out too," Hermione agreed, holding Fleur tightly. She felt Fleur relax into her arms.
'If something were reaally wrong, would it feel this right?' Hermione thought to herself, enjoying the toned body of Fleur's against hers.
She felt the stress of the day begin to slowly melt away as she cuddled the blonde.
"This feels nice," Fleur murmured sleepily.
"Yeah," Hermione agreed, beginning to drift off to sleep herself.
A loud crashing woke Hermione up. At first she thought it was another nightmare, her pulse raging in her ears. But she was in bed with Fleur in her arms and the crashing was still continuing.
"Lumos!"
"Lumos!"
"Lumos!"
A cacophony of voices casting the spell broke out around them. Blinding lights shone on the bed and Fleur woke up, holding Hermione tightly as they sat bolt upright in bed.
About half a dozen wands were pointed at them.
"What on Earth?" Fleur gasped.
A man stepped forward, holding a parchment tightly in his hand.
"Fleur Isabelle Delacour-Weasley," he read off the parchment, "Anonymous sources have revealed your clandestine relationship with Hermione Jean Granger. Client-lawyer relationships are very strictly forbidden by law. These same sources have revealed that you were in on the murder of Susan Bones. You are being arrested as an accomplice to murder."
"What?!" Hermione shrieked.
"This also means that you are in breach of your bail conditions, Ms Granger," the man informed them, "You're both off to Azkaban."
Hermione sat bleary eyed in the interview room at Azkaban. It all felt like a horrible nightmare.
The man in front of her was placing a series of photographs in front of her on the table. The photos were of Hermione and Fleur, walking through the magical creature market hand in hand. The moving figures in the photos were shooting furtive glances at each other.
"How long have you been having this affair with Mrs Delacour- Weasley?"
"I'm not having an affair with her," Hermione replied flatly.
"How much input did she have with the murder?"
"None," Hermione replied, "I had no input either. I'm innocent. This is clearly a set-up."
"A set-up?!" the interrogator laughed, "This isn't a crime novel, Ms Granger! This is real life."
"Unfortunately," Hermione replied with a groan, resting her head in her hands.
Things moved in a horrible blur, Hermione being processed back into Azkaban and into her grey sweatpants and wifebeater.
She was bound and led to a cell by the prison guard Greg, who was finding it hilarious to have Hermione back in custody.
"Golden Girl breaking bail conditions ay?" Greg chuckled, "You really are a bad girl."
Hermione rolled her eyes.
Greg pushed her into her new cell. It was just as bleak as the last, dingy and dark with a small raggedy cot.
Her mind was on Fleur. The blonde would not be happy with living arrangements like this.
'The understatement of all time,' Hermione thought to herself. Greg released her from her bonds and she sat on the cot.
Fleur's career was now in tatters, just because she had tried to help Hermione. Not to mention her marriage. Hermione stiffened at the thought, imagining the Weasleys reacting to the allegations that Fleur and her had been having an affair. Her stomach twisted uncomfortably.
The sun was just beginning to rise now. Hermione reckoned that the cells would open for breakfast soon, so there was no point going back to sleep. She leaned back on her cot, surveying her new cell.
No books, no papers, no stationery.
It was amazing how much Fleur's gifts had softened the awfulness of her last cell. Her mind kept swirling over the blonde.
Soon the cell doors were opening and Hermione pushed herself off her bed. She was nervous that she would run into Bellatrix immediately. She wondered how many more Death Eaters had been locked up in the cell block since she was last here. She shuddered at the thought.
Hermione made her way out into the stream of inmates walking to the cafeteria. The Carrows appeared, shoving Hermione immediately. She shoved back as hard as she could, knocking the siblings over.
"Got a bit of frustration in your system, Granger?"
Hermione turned on her heel, blood boiling at the sound of Pansy Parkinson's voice.
"You!" Hermione growled, launching herself at Pansy.
Pansy giggled as Hermione tackled her to the ground, punching her across the face. Pansy's lip began to bleed but she kept laughing.
"Hermione, I never knew you liked it rough!" Pansy cackled, making no move to fight back.
Hermione felt herself being pulled off Pansy and held back. She wrestled violently.
"Granger you are a live wire," Greg laughed, "Thought you had a soft spot for ole Parkinson here."
Another guard was helping Pansy up.
"Pansy, you bloody heartbreaker," the other guard was laughing, "Stop winding the Golden Girl up here."
"I'll behave," Pansy smirked, rubbing the blood from her lip, "Promise, guys."
"Are you gonna stop lashing out at your gal pal here, Granger?" Greg asked, tightening his grip on Hermione.
Hermione glared at Pansy, who was smirking at her.
'She's not fucking worth it,' Hermione told herself, trying to still her temper before she got shoved in solitary with the Dementors.
"Fine," Hermione snapped. Greg laughed and released her.
"Play nice girls," Greg teased, "Feel free to kiss and make up."
"Over my dead body," Hermione growled, stalking away towards the cafeteria.
"Aww, Granger, you wound me," Pansy sneered, following behind her, "You used to enjoy kissing me… And more if I recall."
"Shut up, Parkinson," Hermione barked, "Why are you even bothering to mess with me. I'm sure Bellatrix will have me in a casket before the first day is even out."
Parkinson clucked her tongue.
"Bellatrix has unfortunately landed herself back in solitary again," Pansy informed her, "None of us expected that you would break your bail so soon."
Pansy laughed loudly at that. Hermione's jaw tensed, she was struggling not to hit the raven-haired woman again.
Hermione decided to ignore her. She lined up in the cafeteria for her food.
"I totally called it, didn't I?" Pansy continued, lining up behind Hermione, "I so knew you had the hots for Delacour-Weasley. Well… My next prediction is that she is going to be very popular in here."
"What are you talking about?!" Hermione whirled around, looking at Pansy angrily. Pansy laughed.
"Oh come on, Smartest Witch of your age?!" Pansy sneered, "She's being charged as the accomplice to your little murder! Once they finish interrogating her she's gonna be right in here with us."
"No," Hermione intoned with horror. Pansy laughed.
"Yeah, you fucked her, her career, her marriage, her life… That's a pretty good effort, Granger," Pansy laughed.
Hermione felt her stomach drop like a brick.
"I… I didn't fuck her," Hermione said absently, turning back around. She didn't feel hungry anymore, she felt sick to her stomach.
"Oh well, the guys in here are gonna love her," Pansy snorted, "Women too. You know maybe I should offer to look after her in here? That got you to spread your legs for me."
Hermione turned around tightly, gripping Pansy by the collar of her top. Pansy giggled, her lip swollen from being punched by Hermione earlier.
"Don't you lay a fucking hand on her," Hermione hissed, "I don't care about getting put in solitary if it means shutting you up."
Pansy giggled.
"Mighty protective, aren't you?"
Hermione released Pansy, shoving her before turning her back to her.
It had been two days now and Hermione was hating that she had already settled back into the rhythm of Azkaban. Thankfully, the Death Eaters weren't so hard on her this time. Whether it was her punching Pansy on Day 1 or her just being more in shape and able to defend herself, she wasn't sure. But she certainly wasn't complaining.
She was sitting in her cell this morning, waiting for the doors to open for the day.
"Fresh meat everyone!" Greg crowed in the distance.
Hermione could hear the other inmates shouting and cat calling. A lot of cat calling. Hermione stood up immediately, stepping over to the bars of her cell. She leaned on them heavily, clutching the bars so tightly her knuckles were turning white.
Greg was pushing Fleur down the aisle of cells. Fleur's head was held high, a haughty look on her face. Her platinum-blonde hair was loose, hanging over her grey sweatshirt.
'Of course… Only Fleur could make an all-grey sweatsuit look like something right off a runway,' Hermione thought, her heart breaking as Fleur was led down to her cell.
She felt beyond guilty. She had ruined Fleur's life.
Greg opened the cell right across from Hermione's, pushing Fleur in there unceremoniously before shutting the doors.
"Good luck, Princess," Greg laughed, sauntering off.
"Fleur!" Hermione called across.
"Hermione?" Fleur turned and looked through the bars at Hermione.
"Fleur, I'm so sorry you're in here… How are you?" Hermione asked, leaning as hard as she could against the bars. She wished she could somehow push her way through to get to Fleur.
"How do you think?" Fleur replied icily, turning her back to Hermione and retreating deeper into her cell.
Hermione felt the air rush out of her lungs. It was like all the guilt she had been feeling had just hit home in the harshest way.
"Fleur?"
The blonde ignored her, sitting on the small cot in her own cell.
Hermione sighed, beyond frustrated. She paced her cell, waiting impatiently for the cells to open.
She did some press-ups, keeping an eye on Fleur across the way. She hoped the blonde wasn't too upset with her. Not that she could blame her.
"Fuck, its all such a bloody mess," Hermione groaned, getting to her feet.
Finally, the cell doors groaned open. Hermione immediately crossed the aisle to enter Fleur's cell. The blonde was lying on her cot on her side, facing the stone wall.
"Fleur…"
Fleur didn't move or respond to Hermione.
"Fleur… What happened?" Hermione asked. Fleur sighed heavily.
"Excuse me for being a little exhausted after about three days of interrogation," Fleur grumbled.
"I'm so sorry about all this," Hermione told her, sitting on the edge of Fleur's cot. Fleur sighed, finally rolling over and sitting up.
"It isn't your fault," Fleur said morosely, "I should have been more prepared for a set-up."
"How bad is it?" Hermione asked. Fleur sighed, putting her head in her hands.
"The Weasleys aren't happy," Fleur replied, "I've lost my job, obviously. Bill doesn't want to talk to me."
"Shit… I'm so sorry," Hermione said, rubbing Fleur's shoulder. Fleur wriggled her shoulder out of Hermione's grip.
"Please don't touch me, Hermione," Fleur said softly, "It will just make things worse."
"We didn't do anything wrong," Hermione said, frowning, "They twisted everything out of context."
"Do you think they would have been able to set us up so easily if we hadn't been acting so inappropriately?" Fleur said, crossing her arms.
"We held hands," Hermione said defensively, "We shared a bed. That isn't a crime. We didn't cross any lines."
"Didn't we?" Fleur asked, her azure eyes slowly coming to meet Hermione's. Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat. The look in Fleur's eyes was making Hermione weak. All she could think of was the night Fleur had drunkenly confessed that Fleur wanted her too.
"We didn't do anything," Hermione replied hoarsely, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Aww, replacing me already Granger?" Pansy asked, coming to lean in the doorway of the cell. Fleur narrowed her eyes suspiciously and Hermione gritted her teeth.
"Who are you?" Fleur asked coldly. Pansy laughed.
"What? Your little informants didn't pass on how ravishing I am?" Pansy chuckled, "I'm Pansy Parkinson… Surely you remember me? You are responsible for adding twenty years on to my sentence."
"You," Fleur replied icily, straightening her back haughtily. Pansy sneered.
"Yes, me," Pansy responded, "Don't worry though, I don't hold it against you."
"Sure you don't," Hermione snorted. Pansy grinned widely, looking from Hermione to Fleur.
"Of course not, guys!" Pansy grinned, "The way I see it, we're even now. I mean, Delacour-Weasley gets me twenty years added to my sentence, I get you two both thrown in Azkaban. Tell me, was it true you were both in bed together when they brought you in?"
"You were behind this?!" Hermione roared, getting to her feet.
Pansy cackled as Hermione ran over, grabbing her by the shoulders and throwing her into the hallway.
Pansy's back hit the bars hard and she winced. Hermione and Pansy descended into a fight, throwing punches and falling to the ground.
Hermione could hear Fleur yelling at her to stop, but she didn't care. She was blind with anger.
Guards ran down the hall, pulling Hermione and Pansy apart. Hermione's face was throbbing and her ribs ached but she still tried to get another hit at Parkinson.
"Oi, oi, oi, calm down girls," Greg shouted, "I thought I told you two to play nice!"
"Fuck you!" Hermione bellowed.
"Right, that's it Golden Girl," Greg grunted, pulling out his wand and binding her arms, "You're going to solitary."