Yay fluff :) and I still suck at the French accent. oh and best way I can think of putting this is, it should be apparent this chapter that something is off with Fleur. She is still part Veela and thus very much aware of a magical world, but Hermione is obviously not part of it. Not sure if I'm gonna do another mate thing or if it'll be a choice to be together. Suggestions?
Hermione and Fleur walked along, a broken conversation happening. Hermione gestured wildly as she tried to get information from the blonde woman. She loved the sound of the other woman's voice, a strange sort of comfort, its low rumble sending chills down her spine. And she had to admit, the French language had never sounded as sexy as it did on her newfound companion. She wanted their trek to take longer than she knew it undoubtedly would as that was how things normally went. The long solo walk would inevitably be only a couple blocks now that she enjoyed her company.
She fell into silence, trying to figure out a way to see her again, but had not come up with much when they arrived back at her hotel, she thanked the blonde with a sad smile. As Fleur turned to leave, the wind blowing her hair slightly as the street lamps began to illuminate, casting a gentle glow and long shadows down the hand laid pathway, Hermione panicked and called her name, not wanting to let her go so easily.
She turned back, a shy smile playing on her features and Hermione felt her breath catch. She pulled out her phone once again, asking "Can I buy you a coffee or something as thanks?"
"Can I buy you for a coffee?" the digitized voice spoke, as Hermione stood there with a dumb smile on her face, once again forced to rely on technology and having to suffer through the awkward silences it created.
Fleur chuckled, "No, but you can buy me dinner first." She winked as she finished her sentence and the phone began to translate. She took the piece of technology from Hermione's hand and entered her number quickly before offering the device back to its owner.
"Fuck" Hermione muttered under her breath, seeing the beautiful woman's number staring up at her from her phone. She hadn't realized that the app was still working even though it wasn't displayed.
"Fuck" it translated, the voice, unable to differentiate between a statement and a question, repeated, finally getting something right.
Fleur, in a moment of bravery, and a desire to tease the foreign woman she had drug around the city, simply responded with "Zat 'appens after dinner," and a wink as she turned and walked away.
Hermione's jaw dropped, not expecting an English response. She stood there, frozen as she wondered if the woman had understood her all along and was simply messing with her mind. But a huge smile soon crossed her face as she fist pumped the air and began dancing away, not caring if anyone saw her. She had a date with a hot French woman and she might be getting lucky if that last statement was anything to go off of.
She looked down at the number glowing up at her from her phone screen and smiled to herself, fighting the urge to immediately text her so she wouldn't appear too desperate. She turned and walked into the hotel, going up to her room. Maybe this trip would be better than she had imagined.
Hermione woke up the next morning, wrapped up in a cocoon of white linen, brown locks flowing wildly, having returned to their natural curly state. The same goofy smile from the night before was still plastered upon her face (and maybe a slight trail of dried drool with it).
She reached for her phone and without a second thought, quickly typed out a message to her guide from the previous night.
"Would I be able to convince you to show me around the city today?"
A couple minutes later she received a reply, her phone vibrating happily from the night stand it rested on. She swiped her thumb over the screen, revealing the message.
"I suppose I might have some free time today." An address and time followed. It seemed she liked to take control. Images began to run through Hermione's mind at the thought of Fleur taking control and she lost herself in the fantasy for a moment before realizing that the time given was in an hour and she had no idea where the address was, and maybe more importantly, she had yet to get dressed.
She shook her head, trying to erase such images from her mind as she quickly scrambled around the room to find the right clothes for the day. She hadn't planned on trying to impress anyone and had brought comfortable clothes mostly. Hermione had secretly been looking forward to the opportunity to slip back into her punk days.
Hermione ran to the cafe door an hour later, breathing hard and hoping the blonde was still waiting for her. She'd gotten on the subway like the front desk employee had said, only to discover it was going the wrong way which had taken an extra 10 minutes she hadn't had. Her watch ticked to 10:07am. She was 7 minutes late, and panic rose in her chest as her eyes scanned the mostly vacant cafe, looking for a familiar blonde.
The young woman felt relief flood her senses upon spotting her friendly tour guide sitting at a table, staring absently out the window, a cup of coffee in front of her resting on the white linen table cloth. Her chin rested in her hand as her other hand played with the handle of the cup, turning it back and forth on its saucer.
Hermione quickly attempted to fix her appearance and even out her breathing. She was wearing a black Marilyn Manson shirt and ripped dark gray jeans with a pair of converse high tops. Walking confidently towards Fleur, she pulled out the chair opposite her, and plopped down, surprising the other woman who had been lost in her thoughts.
Leaning back in her chair, a cocky smirk plastered upon her face, she spoke with a confidence she had been lacking the previous night. "So you do speak English?"
She wasn't expect the response, a mischievous grin, "Who doesn't?"
The other woman spoke with a thick French accent, something Hermione found herself unable to get enough of. "So why did you pretend last night?"
The question was out before she could stop herself from asking it. A silence hung between them as the blonde pondered how to answer, she eventually settled on a shrug. "Why not? It was funny watching you struggle."
Hermione pretended to pout for a second, jutting out her bottom lip, "You're mean," she said sulkily.
"And yet, you're still here."
"Should I be offended by that?"
"That depends on you," Fleur stated, then changed topics quickly, not giving Hermione any more time to ponder that, "So, what brings you to Paris?"
"Just here on vacation," she'd been warned before she left not to say too much. Sure Paris was a big city, but with the recent string of terror attacks in the country, she couldn't assume she wasn't in danger. Everyone had been warned not to say too much about what they did so as to avoid being a target. It really didn't help that the Pentagon had been hacked and ISIS had been making threats against higher ranking soldiers or those they thought they could crack. Everyone was at risk and while Fleur didn't look like a terrorist, she couldn't be sure.
She took in Fleur's mostly empty cup, and leaned forward in her seat, "I'm gonna get a cappuccino, can I get you anything?"
"A cafe au lait please."
Hermione nodded and took off to the bar to order. Her mind was swimming with how much should she trust the blonde. She didn't really think she'd find herself in this situation, having planned on keeping mostly to herself. But the French woman was rather attractive, and Hermione was positive she had been flirting the night before.
The two cups were placed in front of her a moment later and she grabbed them before returning to the table where Fleur sat waiting for her, having resumed staring out the window.
She smiled when Hermione approached, thanking her for the coffee and returning to her interrogation. "'ow long are you 'ere for?"
"A week."
"And zen where will you go?"
"Back home."
"If you don't mind me asking, where iz 'ome?"
"Germany."
Fleur paused, a questioning look, "But you don't sound German?"
Hermione chuckled, "No, I'm not. I'm American."
"Zen, what are you doing in Germany?"
"I'm working here temporarily."
"What kind of work do you do?"
"Right now, inventory and light equipment maintenance. What about you? You're asking a lot of questions, why don't you tell me about yourself?"
"Zere iz not much to tell, I'm afraid. My life iz razer boring."
"Surely it's not that boring. You must have some interests or hobbies or work?"
"Oui, my muzzer expects zat I take over ze familie buziness when ze retirez. Ze 'as done nuzzing but prepare me for zis task zince I waz a child." Her accent grew stronger as she began to speak passionately about the topic. Hermione smiled and nodded along, having difficulty understanding her completely, and hearing more French words slip through. She gathered that Fleur did not want to take over the family business, whatever it was, but it was expected of her, and would not be passed on to her younger sister, who despite being only a couple years younger still acted like a child.
Hermione saw a passion burning in bright blue eyes, intense in their gaze, drawing her in as they threatened to burn her. She was enraptured and leaned in closer to the table, unable to pull her eyes away from the other woman as she spoke animatedly. At a few different points, she would swear she saw the other woman's eyes glow, but that was impossible she told herself, the light must just be reflecting off of them, or maybe it was because they really were just such a unique shade of silvery blue... Yes, that was it, her eyes had to be playing tricks on her.
"Oh zorry, I did not mean to..." Fleur trailed off, embarrassment poking through her voice, she didn't finish that sentence, unsure how, of what she could say.
"How about we get outta here? You can show me around the city and forget about doing what other's expect hm?"
Fleur nodded, a smile spreading across her face as Hermione stood from her seat and, in a moment of reckless bravery, she extended her hand towards the blonde, fingers outstretched, a shy smile spreading into a sweeping grin as her fingers found purchase in the warm hand of the other.
They walked out of the cafe together, hand in hand, two acquaintances on the path to becoming more.