AN: Don't worry, there'll be some more Fleurmione goodness coming up, because really, it needs some, only one bit of interaction in almost 7k words. Its slow burn alright?
Hermione scratched absentmindedly at the itch in her side before it migrated to her other side, and then to her leg before she gave out an exasperated sigh. The prolonged itchiness, that was something she'd noticed was increasing as time went on, something that hadn't happened before Friday night, and she somehow wondered if the two were connected. It was that or she was developing an allergy to paperwork, something she had had an endless amount of after that botched attempt at a sting operation. She was really getting tired of it though, there was no doubt about that. And she definitely did not enjoy being relegated to desk duty.
"Ahem," a soft voice came from above her and she looked up, started to see a pair of bright blue eyes attached to a slim face, high cheekbones and full red lips. It was a face she thought she'd never see again, and all of a sudden Hermione felt her cheeks redden as a familiar warmth spread throughout her body.
"Y-you," was all she could manage to stutter, evidently surprised by the appearance of one Fleur Delacour.
Fleur leaned forward, placing one hand palm down, firmly upon Hermione's desk, talking in a hushed voice, "I heard you were looking for me. Though I do not know why. I have not done anything wrong." She spoke with a practiced confidence, an air of superiority around her, her accent still coming through at the edges, most noticible on her th's sounding more as z's and the forced h sound.
"Uh y-yeah. I am," Hermione stood abruptly. She had no idea what to do now, she hadn't thought that her prey would ever in a million years slink into her office, and while she had observed Fleur looking around her room, she had not witnessed her take anything, and would never admit to having been caught off guard by the blonde. There was, she had to admit, a lack of sufficient evidence despite the feeling in her gut telling her that the blonde was guilty.
The blonde, meanwhile, looked at Hermione expectantly, as though there was something else to come. She had, at least, stood up straight when Hermione stood.
"Um, come with me, let's talk somewhere more private?" She motioned with her arm towards the door, guiding her to take the lead. The blonde merely nodded her acceptance of the terms.
Out in the hallway, the blonde waited for Hermione who was stood in the doorway, yelling something back at one of her coworkers before pulling the door shut. She offered her arm to Fleur as she had done the other night, only this time, she was not in her disguise of Josiah and had nothing the blonde could want (as evidenced by the sole raised eyebrow the other woman looked at her with). Hermione tried to hide the hurt at being so clearly rejected by the object of her affections, the angel that had plagued her dreams since, her presence a cool breeze on a hot summer day, Hermione hadn't noticed that she had stopped itching since the blonde had appeared.
An awkward moment passed between them as Hermione led them out of the Ministry and into the bright afternoon sunlight, blinking as her eyes adjusted. "So," she started nervously and the regal blonde next to her looked over at her and Hermione felt her breath catch, "your name had come up in an investigation."
This sentence gave Fleur pause, and Hermione noticed the affect of her words. That warm feeling that she had felt before increasing, her mind losing its focus on the topic at hand, instead reverting to its single-mindedness that was Fleur. "But you know I am innocent, yes?"
"Of course, it was nothing really, I'm glad we were able to clear this up, really," Hermione stated, wanting to do anything to see the blonde witch smile at her. That warmth was now threatening to swallow her whole. And Fleur, she actually turned and smiled at Hermione, placing her hand on the brunette's forearm, causing Hermione to blush again. It was like a game of cat and mouse with the Veela risking nothing to win every time, rigging the odds to be ever in her favor.
Fleur, knowing the effect she was having on the brunette detective in front of her, decided to up the ante, "I'm sorry to have wasted your time if that was all," she paused there averting her eyes skillfully, "maybe I can make it up to you sometime?" a salacious grin upon her delicate features.
And Hermione, poor Hermione, was stumbling, tripping really, over her words in her haste to agree to the blonde enchantress. "Yes, yes, of course, any time, it really wasn't a problem, you didn't bother me at all but, yes I'd love to see you again. Really, any time again, for that, as well, I mean," she paused to take a breath and calm herself, "Yes. I'd love to." She finished trying to seem much more dignified, though her insides were screaming and doing the macarena much to her embarrassment.
Fleur, currently looked like the cat that got the cream, she leaned forward and gently kissed Hermione on the cheek, a plan already forming in her mind that she could control this investigation and find out if they were close to actually catching her. This would be too easy, the brunette was unable to withstand her charms. She turned and left without another word, her silvery blonde hair flowing behind her, she disappeared into the crowd, a stunned Hermione still standing there, her fingers pressed lightly to her cheek occupying the spot where Fleur's lips had been. It took a long while before Hermione realized she had no way of contacting Fleur, and as disappointment settled in her chest, she began to itch again. But deep down, she knew, if the blonde wanted to find her again, she knew where she would be at.
Hermione turned and began to walk back to her desk, already desperately missing the blonde.
It was a couple days before she would see her once again, Fleur walked into her life just like she had the last time, but this time, she made her presence known with an air of confidence, and unfortunately for Hermione, her thrall. Hermione felt the room shift, as though her very breath was knocked out of her when the blonde appeared, drawing her attention instantly. Hermione was already standing from her spot, ready to greet the blonde, and they disappeared together. This time, when Hermione offered the blonde her arm, it was accepted, and Hermione felt complete. She had missed her mysterious companion fiercely in their time apart, not that she would ever admit it to the (definitely not innocent) woman.
Fleur, her arm linked through Hermione's, led the way, their destination a secret. She led the detective through the streets, conversation between them stilted, Hermione questioning her, and receiving short answers in return. And though this would have seemed like a bad sign to anyone else in the situation, or observing the scenario laid out before them, Hermione was thrilled to be spending time with her love.
Fleur guided them to a small little bar off the beaten path, one that Hermione had never been in before, and when they stepped inside, she knew why. The bartender was a squat little goblin, his long bony fingers drying off a mug with a dirty gray looking towel. His gruff voice rang out "What d'ya want?" They were the only people in the establishment, but Fleur led them to a table in the back corner. Her angelic voice a complete contrast to the grunt of the bartender, "Two of your specials, please."
She motioned for Hermione to take a seat at the rickety wooden chair while she herself sat on the bench against the wall. Two grimy looking mugs appeared in front of them with a strange reddish glowing liquid in them. Hermione looked at her mug cautiously, trying to figure out what exactly the strange concoction in front of her was. Fleur, meanwhile, grabbed her mug and took a long swig, she downed half of it before placing her glass back on the table and looking at Hermione. "It's good, just uh, don't ask what's in it."
A pause, and Hermione found herself drinking the glowing liquid, a not entirely unpleasant burn accompanying it as it slid thickly down her throat.
Looking satisfied with herself, Fleur asked, "Now tell me, how *exactly* it was my name came up in your investigation?"
Hermione swallowed thickly, her eyes going wide, before she looked down at the glass in front of her, playing with it between her hands, sliding it back and forth. The warm feeling that always accompanied Fleur's presence intensified.
"You were seen last Friday," was the meek answer that came from Hermione who was instantly embarrassed that she said it.
"I see. But I do not remember seeing you?"
"No, you wouldn't have. I wasn't there, however all of the other guests were readily identified and nobody remembers inviting you." In truth, nobody had invited Fleur, Hermione wasn't even sure how it was that she was there. Though the gathering had been advertised as a bride search, no one else had come uninvited.
"I was invited by Mr. Harry Potter himself."
Hermione held back a scoff at the lie, she was distinctly aware that Harry had not invited her, or anyone for that matter, but she was secretly admiring the courage with which Fleur spoke, as though that was the truth. Fleur picked up her drink, finishing it off swiftly before motioning for another. Hermione matched her actions, savoring the burn that the presumably alcoholic drink left. She however, was still unsure of what it was that she was drinking.
The bartender dropped off two more mugs in front of them before going back to his duties. Tense conversation flowed, Fleur pressing for more information, Hermione reluctantly giving it, a combination of the alcohol and Fleur's Thrall as she felt excessively warmer than she was when they had first started. After a while, they parted ways, Hermione already longing to be in the blonde's presence again, her body, her soul already calling out. Memories of their first encounter dancing in her mind, images, flashes of color, feelings stirring within her, she formed a plan to meet the blonde again.