It's been a few days, enjoy the long update!

"Josiah," the blonde whispered, barely above a whisper, and Hermione, for the first time, had the dawning realization that she would have to convince the blonde to believe the truth of her actions, and stepped back away from her companion.

"I apologize if I was too forward in my actions," she looked down ashamed.

The French Veela spoke, slowly, softly, "I want to trust you, to believe there is truth behind your gestures. But it is hard when there is little good in the world."

Hermione nodded, "I will do whatever it takes to prove the truth of my actions."

Fleur looked at her, a soft smile on her lips, "That is something that one does not hear often. I hope I do not scare you off as the tasks will not be easy, nor will they be quickly accomplished." She took Hermione's hand and they resumed their walk, Hermione left to question what these tasks would look like. Though she also questioned how likely it would be that she could complete all of these tasks without revealing her true self.

Her thoughts raced as her body tensed slightly at the realization she had not wished to have and had actively tried to avoid thinking about, the fact that she was Josiah, Josiah was who Fleur was willing to give a chance, and their date (if it could even be called that) earlier in the week had been less than successful.

She paused, a pained expression on her face, "There is something I must tell you first." The words sounded like they came from a foreign voice, one she did not recognize, the moment feeling surreal as she told Fleur. She witnessed Fleur's expression changing, a range of emotions displayed upon it as she was told the truth of how they had met, pain in the young witch's voice. She had put distance between the two of them before she revealed the truth, that she, Hermione Granger, had created the wizard Josiah Blane in an attempt to catch the thief Aphrodite, that she knew the truth of who Fleur really was.

She watched the blonde back further away, panic cascading over her beautiful features, eyes searching for an escape, watching passersby with a renewed sense of vigilance as this confession of betrayal permeated her mind.

Fleur returned to the present, tuning back in as she heard Hermione say "There's no one here, you can go now if you want, I won't follow. I had no intentions of tricking you, this was actually supposed to be a date."

A sad smile, forced upon the brunette's face, still with features that weren't truly her own, the dissonance resonating in her mind. Fleur disappeared without hesitation, regret over trusting too easily invading her mind, she had trusted again despite her life having tried to teach her many times over not to. And now, this time, might be her last mistake, she could lose it all, everything she had worked for, and she had been so careful. Fear seeped in, filling all the cracks, every corner with doubt as tears began to run down her face, she hadn't thought it would hurt so much, they had barely known each other, or really not at all.

She couldn't be sure how much she had been told was the truth. There was nothing to say really, and she'd left suddenly, leaving no trace behind.

Hermione wasn't surprised the blonde had reacted the way she did, truthfully, she had known it was coming. How could it not? She had betrayed the blonde after all, taken advantage of the little bit of trust she had been offered. Her actions raced through her mind, and she wondered if she had done things differently, if there was a way she could have salvaged anything, but as it was, the blonde still plagued her mind, having not vacated that residence she had taken by force, despite her disappearance.

The brunette wandered home, twinges of sadness passing through her mind, she needed to fix this, she had to make it right for the blonde, but how? After all, she was supposed to be hunting her down to arrest her, not trying to pursue a relationship.

She couldn't help but let out a sad chuckle at the sorry state her life had become, since when was it supposed to be this complicated? Why couldn't she just find a nice, normal, law abiding woman to settle down with? She had gotten herself into quite the mess.

When Hermione woke up the next morning, she was not surprised that she had not heard from Fleur after that disaster of a date. Attempting to not wallow further in her depression, she got up and drug herself to work, a new passion ignited within her. She had, despite everything, gained quite a bit of useful information regarding the blonde bombshell.

And though she had promised not to use it against the blonde, she reasoned that it didn't mean she couldn't use it for other purposes. She really had no interest in arresting the blonde, but she wasn't the only one on the case.

Hermione was sure that she had figured out more than the other detectives on the case, but she couldn't be positive without seeming suspicious, or giving others some sort of information. She was resigned to protecting the blonde.

She worked long into the evening without interruption, the only one in the office, it was quiet, her thoughts undisturbed, reminding her of the many hours she had spent in the school library growing up.

Finally, long after night had arrived, she gave up, having made impressive headway into locating the blonde and possibly some of her history, following up on the pieces of information she had collected the previous night regarding the Delacour Clan. Rather, she was forced to stop, the dearth of information on the mysterious Veela finally forcing her hand.

With a resigned sigh, she sent an owl to Bill, practically begging for him to put her in touch with Ashleigh, needing to speak to her about Fleur (and maybe try to glean what information she could about Veelas from her).

Sunday passed without incident, Hermione stuck within her thoughts, piecing together information (what little of it she had), turning over her thoughts, unsure if she had managed to interpret it all correctly, and slightly scared by what the meaning could be.

She was anxiously awaiting a response from Bill, pacing back and forth in her kitchen for most of the day, and when she wasn't pacing she was sat at her kitchen table, drumming her fingers on the discolored wood, her leg shaking, nerves on edge, filled with anticipation.

Monday finally came, and she found herself arriving to work earlier than normal, however she was greeted with an unfamiliar redhead sitting at her desk. Hermione watched her sitting still, back straight, unmoving, legs crossed, purse in her lap, hands folded over it. She wasn't expecting any appointments, she was sure of that. She had barely been able to focus on her work and make any progress in the last week. And as long as she had the Aphrodite case she wasn't expecting any new cases. The woman sat there sure wasn't an auror, she was sure of that.

Puzzled, she approached cautiously, "Can I help you?"

The redhead turned, a wide smile upon her features and spoke with a thick Scottish accent, "Ah you must be Hermione!"

"And you are?"

"Ashleigh, Bill said you needed some help and I thought it would be easier to meet rather than sending owls through him."

Hermione nodded, "Well, can I get you a coffee or tea then?"

"Actually, I wondered if we might go somewhere a bit more private to speak? The Veela are quite private creatures and most of this knowledge is kept private for a reason. I imagine you'll be asking these questions for a reason." She smiled, knowingly and Hermione felt a slight blush upon her cheeks.

"Right. There's a muggle cafe not far from here we could talk at, if that's private enough, or we could try and find a conference room, or I suppose we could always go back to mine."

"The cafe should be," she nodded and stood from her chair, leading the way out and Hermione had flashbacks to the last time a Veela met her at work. This would be interesting she mused to herself.

Easy conversation flowed between the two as they made their way to the cafe, Hermione finding herself laughing at a joke made by the other woman, she could see how Bill had ended up in a relationship with her, she wasn't unattractive either by any means, but Hermione also noted, that despite her being a Veela, she didn't have the same warmth, nor did she draw out the same feelings in the brunette that the blonde did. She supposed it was the thrall, but having only encountered Fleur before, she questioned how it was that she had, even when Fleur seemed distinctly uninterested, fallen under its influence.

They arrived at the small cafe and found a table at the back so as to be farthest away from others and have their conversation relatively undisturbed. Ashleigh ordered a cappuccino and Hermione found herself ordering a latte, their conversation meandering upon less important topics until their drinks arrived.

She added a packet of sugar to her drink and Ashleigh asked, picking up her cup, "Now, I believe there are much more important topics to discuss," a small smile playing upon her features.

Hermione blushed, focusing intently on stirring the sugar into her drink, "You had mentioned that the Delacour Clan was much more liberal in their use of the thrall and I wondered what that meant exactly."

Ashleigh looked at her intently, "I sense that is not the question you want to ask, but very well, we shall start there. The Delacours were known as being hedonists in their day. They still maintain that reputation, though it had been assumed that due to their sudden disappearance they had all been killed. They, unlike the other clans, had found it to their advantage to use their thrall to gain what they wanted, preferring to enjoy all of life's pleasures rather than pass through in anonymity.

My own clan in particular had believed that it was due to this vanity that they had caused their own demise. If this Fleur really is a Delacour and has not simply taken the name to assume a false identity, one could assume with some certainty that she, too, would use it to her advantage. Though, if she took the name as a false identity, I would also bet that she feels some connection to them."

"What happened to them?"

"Other than their egos got too big? They were all hunted. Veelas have, for centuries, been hunted by the magical community to the point that we were nearly extinct until protections were put into place. Since then, our numbers have stayed small and we have preferred our existence to fade into mythology. The Delacours were rather easily found due to their predilections and the last ones were rumored to have been killed off well over 200 years ago."

Hermione couldn't hide the look of surprise that crossed her face.

Ashleigh smirked, "Exactly. It is possible that a few survived, changing their tactics, or becoming better at using their thrall, after all, it is just a rumor. Though it is not a name that is often spoken amongst the Veela that do still exist." She took another sip of her coffee as Hermione thought carefully of her next question.

"The thrall, what is it like? Is there a way one could tell if it was influencing them?"

Another smirk, this time with a playful glint in her eyes, and Hermione gulped, suddenly feeling as though she was about to be a meal, "Would you like to find out?"

The brunette nodded nervously, unsure of her ability to speak. It was only a moment later that she felt drawn to the other woman, a familiar warmth spreading, encapsulating her, she was drawn to the other woman, her beauty increasing, Hermione's mouth going dry, Ashleigh became the only thing on her mind, and she didn't notice herself getting up, approaching the other woman, moving closer to her until it stopped.

Hermione shook her head, as though clearing a fog, she realized she was closer to the redhead, now only a few inches separating them, the Veela sat there, looking confident in her abilities, "Well, Hermione, I didn't know you felt that way," she teased and burst out laughing as the brunette scrambled to put space between them, sputtering an apology.

"Relax, I know you didn't mean it. But that doesn't mean I won't tease you about it."

Hermione sat back down, her face still a bright crimson. She sat in silence, drinking her coffee, until realization dawned on her.

"Your thrall, it felt different."

"Different how?" the other witch questioned, looking intrigued.

"I'm not sure. It felt, similar, maybe the feeling just changes with the individual. But, yours felt like..." She faded off, into thought, taking a drink of her coffee, "it felt like lust? It was warm, and inviting, and like a pull, I wanted to," she stopped suddenly, snapping her mouth shut, her blush returning.

"You wanted sex," Ashleigh filled in, sure of her words, "That is what the thrall is supposed to do."

Hermione nodded, "Yes, so, I wanted," she skipped over the word, still unable to bring herself to say it, "but hers, I assume it was also her thrall, it was warm and inviting also, but it felt familiar somehow, like I'd experienced it before though I'm sure I hadn't. It was almost like being in a lover's embrace. And afterwards, I don't feel anything now, but her, I couldn't stop thinking about her, like I felt like a stalker afterwards, I couldn't stop thinking about ways to see her again or how to find her, I missed that feeling I had when I was around her. And every time I see her, it comes back, every time. I'm not even sure if she's doing anything anymore."

"I wish I could explain that, but I'm not sure. When we're kids and we get upset, our parents will sometimes use their thrall on us, to help us calm down, and it feels familiar, but I've never heard of it happening without any sort of family bond. There are legends that Veelas have mates and that the thrall acts differently with them, can take on a new form, but those are just legends. No one has had or heard of a mate happening in centuries, since before the Veela were hunted to near extinction. And even then it was a rare occurrence, happening so rarely that if one had found their mate, they would become the next Clan Leader.

The legends, at leas the ones that I have heard, were all along the lines of the mate would become near obsessed with their Veela mate upon seeing them, that the thrall wasn't needed for that person to act as though under their influence. The mate would do anything to gain the attention of the other and this feeling wouldn't waver until they had won the heart of the Veela."

"If that was without the Veela using the thrall, what would happen if the Veela did?"

Ashleigh shrugged, "There's not much on that, the stories were told to us as children to try and prevent us from using our thrall on everyone we saw. Some ranged from a medusa effect of them turning to stone, to death, to hatred, or ruining the ability to bond somehow. They were like our versions of fairy tales."

"And is there any other way to tell?"

"No, but, really, I wouldn't worry about it too much, a snowball would have a better chance in hell than you would of being her mate."

Hermione forced a laugh at that expression, but in her mind she was panicking, she hadn't mentioned that since regaining her faculties, she'd felt dirty, like she'd cheated on Fleur and they weren't even together, something was wrong and the blonde witch had returned to her mind with a vengeance after being forced out momentarily.

Their conversation drifted from the topic of Veelas as the time passed, neither in a rush to leave, enjoying the company of the other. She was easy to talk to and easier to get along with. By the end, she was not surprised that she was still friends with Bill despite their failed relationship.

However, when they parted, Hermione had no doubt in her mind. She needed to see Fleur again. Luckily, she'd been able to figure out where to find the blonde after all her work following their date. She wasn't positive of the exact spot, but she had narrowed it down to a couple blocks, a small wizarding pocket that had developed in Muggle London. It was a relatively forgotten area as more popular neighborhoods had appeared.

Hermione found herself, standing on the sidewalk watching, waiting, hoping to catch sight of the blonde. Hours passed and the sun set before she managed to glimpse a flash of silvery blonde, quickly turning to disappear down an alley.

"Fleur! Wait!" She yelled, running after the blonde, she turned the corner into the alleyway and came face to face with the tip of a wand wielded by an angry looking French woman.

"What are you doing here?" she growled, her wand no moving from Hermione's throat.

"I-I had to see you."

"Why?"

Hermione took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her ears, it was now or never and this was likely the only chance she'd ever get, even if the blonde didn't kill her. "IthinkI'myourmate." She forced it out, as quickly as possible, all the words running together.

"What?" Fleur finally lowered her wand slightly.

Hermione slowed down, trying to enunciate each of the words, "I think I'm your mate."