AN: Sorry guys, I'm trying to write a story where Ron isn't a complete ass (as that seems a common trend) but that's kinda turning Hermione into one? Though that was a bit of my intent from the start. I really liked the idea of Fleur having to follow orders (so yes this will get dark, just not sure how dark yet) also must give credit where it's due, this little idea was sparked by reading Instincts by supesaiyan (go read it if you havent). I did change things about how it worked though but yeah... please dont hate Hermione too much though, shes just... indecisive here. oh and maybe T/W for dubious consent?

It was late afternoon when Fleur had finally returned home, enjoying the relative ease of John's presence, while he rushed around taking care of his other tables, checking in on her momentarily, their conversation taking hours instead of minutes, jumping around, the real topics never being fully addressed, but he had managed to get his point across all the same.

She stood silently, outside the door to her apartment, hand on the doorknob, its cool metal solidifying her presence here before she finally pushed it open, ready to have "the talk". She didn't know why, but she felt somewhat disappointed not seeing Hermione seated on the couch in their main room that their apartment directly opened into.

She paused, leaning back into the door when she heard a voice call from down the hall "Fleur? Is that you?"

She smiled, Hermione must have been in her bedroom. "Yeah, it's just me."

Hermione walked out of her room, dressed in jeans and a loose t-shirt, her bare feet padding along quietly on the carpet. "Is everything okay?" She asked quietly, her fingers nervously playing with the hem of her shirt.

"We need to talk," Fleur had practically had to force the words out, sounding foreign to her. Hermione looked somber at this revelation, a quiet "Of course" was all she said, and she followed Fleur's lead, taking a seat on the couch.

"About last night," she started, trailing off, looking at the floor. Hermione looked up at her, her brown eyes questioning, she picked up where Fleur had trailed off. "Veela's don't have crushes do they?" Her voice sounding louder in the silence between them than it really was.

A panicked, pained expression crossed Fleur's face, wincing slightly at the question, she shook her head 'no'.

A whispered "I thought so," was her only response, Hermione now looking at the ground instead. The silence resumed between them, seeming to stretch on for hours though it was probably only a few seconds.

It was once again Hermione who broke the silence, "So, what does that mean? I have my thoughts, but I need to hear you confirm them."

A pause, it was too soon, she couldn't say it, didn't want to say it, but she needed to, and so it was only a pause, a brief hesitation, she didn't know how to say it, how to put it delicately, wouldn't admit the power that Hermione now had over her.

"We... no," she shook her head and started over, "you are my mate." The last was quiet, barely a whisper, spoken to the floor rather than to Hermione directly.

Hermione nodded at this bit of information, she hadn't (had) expected that to be the answer, but didn't (did) want it to be true. She still had Ron, and things with him weren't bad, not completely, they had started to grow apart after the war sure, but that didn't mean she didn't love him, that didn't mean they couldn't make it work, and she felt she should try to make it work. "I need some time," was the only thing she could say, and she got up and left the room, leaving Fleur sitting there staring at the floor.

Fleur felt her heart breaking, she knew she was going to be rejected, but she honestly hadn't thought it would hurt as bad as it had. She sat there unable to move, and it was in that same position that Hermione found her hours later when she returned. Fleur finally felt like she could breathe again with her mate in the same room as her, she felt complete now.

Hermione walked over to her, wrapping her arms around Fleur, hugging her tightly from behind, a faint smell of alcohol on her breath as she spoke softly, "What does this mean for us?" she asked, nuzzling Fleur's cheek lightly, her breath warm and enticing, Fleur felt her senses come alight with hunger.

She turned ever so slightly towards the brunette, bringing them face to face, she placed her hand on Hermione's cheek, "It can mean whatever you want, my love." The term of endearment falling past her lips easily, unable to recall those words as Hermione leaned further into her caress.

Fleur knew she would be unable to deny her anything, it was too late, they'd already crossed the final step, she was subject to follow Hermione's orders, practically her slave until their binding ceremony, which Fleur doubted would ever happen. She knew it wouldn't take long for the other witch to figure it out, despite the limited information on Veelas that was out there. She cursed her luck once again, and the fates that had decided to play this cruel joke on her.

"Come to bed with me?" The request was simple enough, one she might have entertained had she not already been condemned to follow it, Hermione had asked innocently, placing her hand over Fleur's which was still occupying her cheek, she turned and kissed her palm. Fleur could only nod as she silently followed behind the brunette, who still had yet to let go of her hand.

She wasn't sure what this would mean for them, if it could mean they had a future or if she would just be there to sate the brunette on her lonelier of nights (those when Ron wasn't available to be her company). However, at this moment, she was not confident in her role.

And that was how Fleur found herself laying naked in Hermione's bed (this time instead of her own), the brunette wrapped up in her arms, a contented sigh against her skin, the brunette had fallen asleep quickly after their activities leaving Fleur to replay the night's events in her mind. Normally something that would have made her happy was for once, leaving her unsure of herself, and unsure of what Hermione thought of her.

True she hadn't told the younger witch of her... inclination to follow orders (or 'suggestions'), but she was unsure of what would happen if she did. Or rather, until she did. She wondered, offhandedly, if she already knew, somehow, as she had already known herself to be Fleur's mate.

But as life has a cruel way of continuing on, she figured she would find out soon enough, and soon a fitful sleep claimed her. Her dreams plagued with nightmares of a cruel brunette, using her, manipulating her and leaving her broken, even more than she was already, even more than the war had left her, than her relationship with Bill, but this arrangement with Hermione, that would finally be what did her in.

She was awoken early the next morning, a gentle caress from the other witch, "Good morning sleepyhead," she teased, running her fingers lightly up and down Fleur's body, eliciting a shiver from the blonde. A gentle kiss followed, tender, loving, completely unlike their others which had been hungry, needy, taking more than giving and Fleur felt her heart stir, an immense affection for the brunette growing, consuming her even more. That was until there was a knock at their door, and Hermione began to panic at their situation.