Chapter VI

Tartiflette

Notes:

Hey there. I know I haven't updated in 2 years. It's been a long time. Lots has happened since then, and work just took over my life with a over 60 - 80 work week. I deeply apologize for leaving the story hanging. If there are still people who are reading this, I'm glad you stuck around. Otherwise, I couldn't stop thinking about this story and how I wanted to continue. So I'm writing a lot of it for myself as well. Really wanted to continue this one, and not just abandon it.

Lovely to see you all again. This chapter was hard to write- it's the setup for the entire story.

Also, as a side note, if you've never had Tartiflette, I highly recommend the dish. Seriously. Amazing. But getting your hands on Reblochon cheese can be a bit challenging if you're not in Europe, so I've heard.

Hermione had no idea what to wear. She had no idea what to bring. What was French culture like? Was this a simple dinner between them? Wait what were they even? Not classmates, but Auror and student. Quite an odd pairing. Friends? Hermione wouldn't go as far as to call them friends… not yet anyway. They barely knew each other, aside from their run-in at the library.

It was becoming increasingly hard to focus in class that day. Hermione was already being piled with assignments, essays, and readings to complete, but her mind was elsewhere. She was going to have dinner with Fleur tonight.

The fact that she had become an Auror at such a young age, and almost seemingly out of nowhere was also a lot for Hermione to take in. From competing at the Tri-wizard tournament, representing Beauxbaton proudly two years ago, to coming to Hogwarts to defend them from the return of the Dark Lord- it all seemed so… out of character for her. She couldn't understand why she had been stationed at Hogwarts, instead of protecting her country and her own school. Hermione knew how close she is with her sister, so coming out here far from her was something she had wanted to ask. Tonight would be an opportunity to bring that up.

The young witch snapped out of her daydream as Professor Slughorn inquired on the potions that were displayed in front of class. Her hand shot up immediately. "Amortentia!"

"And that is correct! Ms. Granger, you recognized it, I suppose, by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen?"

"And the steam rising in characteristic spirals, and it's supposed to smell differently to each of according to what attracts us, and I can smell freshly mown grass and new parchment and…"

Hermione definitively remembered what it felt like to pass by that enchanting smell, memories of its warmth made her smile as she recalled, but the last one made her flush as she couldn't bring herself to say out loud what it had been. The smell was enticing, warm, yet refreshing… She couldn't put it into words, but it reminded her of the meadows, sweet wildflower that weren't overpowering, and the woods. She's only smelled this around one person in particular.

"Ten points to Gryffindor!" Professor Slughorn beamed at her, not noticing the sudden interruption and her inability to finish her sentence before continuing, "Amortentia is the most powerful of love potions! Hard to brew, but when done so properly, the infatuation and obsession is a dangerous one," he warned. Hermione couldn't help but wonder if it affected humans and mystical creatures alike.

Class eventually resumed as Slughorn went over the two other potions, Polyjuice- to which Hermione earned another ten points for Gryffindor, and another ten, for Felix Felicis, the luck potion. Harry often joked that Gryffindor ever won because of Hermione's one-woman army intelligence.

They were tasked with brewing a potion to win a small vial of Felix Felicis, and Hermione was determined to get it. Her focus was temporarily back to its normal self as she tried to win that vial for… rainy days later. Unfortunately, somehow, Harry had somehow managed to brew the potion better than she could- as it pained her to admit. It was due to that book he had borrowed from Slughorn, that Half Blood Prince, she thought bitterly.

In the end, Harry had won the vial. She was disappointed at her own performance, annoyed that he had "cheated" in her opinion, but mostly, she was regretful of not earning that vial of Felix. Hermione kept telling herself it was just in case she needed it for a full night of absolute efficiency in her studies, but really, in the back of her mind, she couldn't help but feel like she had needed that potion for tonight's dinner. Now she would just have to make do as herself, and she felt suddenly anxious.

She had to calm herself down. It wasn't a date or anything. Fleur was simply trying to have her stop being so nosy, and dinner was just a kind way of answering her millions of questions, unlike what Hermione had been doing, which was tailing the poor Auror and demanding answers in the hallway amongst all the students.

Hermione felt sudden shame. She would make sure to apologize tonight. Maybe she could bring a bottle of that craft Butterbeer she had gotten from her parents recently by owl.

The witch stood there. Unsure of herself in every way. Even knocking on that impossibly elegant wooden door felt just as nerve wracking as taking her exams to her OWLS all at once.

Hermione had opted for a casual look. She didn't want to appear like she had tried too hard. It took her an embarrassingly large amount of time to settle on a simple black tee, and pants that her mother described as, "defining her curves," whatever that meant. Hermione knew her body had changed a lot over the summer, but she didn't really have time to care or think much about it until her mom had forced her to come shopping with her for new clothes.

She wasn't sure why she thought so hard on this outfit, when it was covered by her usual Hogwarts robes anyway. Her hair was tamer, and she took the time to care for her curls before making her way up here, with Muggle products.

Mustering all the courage she had, Hermione took a deep breath and knocked gently on the door. The young witch almost felt like she was in a trance, and her hand acted on her own, as if it knew that if it didn't knock now, she would have turned right on her heels and marched out of the tower.

There was a shuffle of feet behind the door. The handle rattled and Hermione found herself illuminated by the light of the doorway as the door slowly swung open to reveal the Quarter Veela. Hermione suddenly felt underdressed, as she took in the sight of the Auror, who greeted her warmly with a kiss on both cheeks, customary in France as a greeting. The Auror herself was simply in her usual blouse underneath her long, black overcoat that she wore around the castle. Only this time, her two of her front buttons had been undone. Hermione assumed she was just allowing herself to breathe at the comfort of her own home, and after a long day of patrolling the school. High waisted black pants that hugged her hips and a simple brown leather belt. No matter what the woman wore, she always looked so stunning. Even the most mundane clothes always looked so good on her. She didn't even have to try, and she could still out-fashion the best models in the world. She did, however, lack the usual colour that Hermione was so used to seeing her in. The blue of Beauxbaton's uniforms. Fleur's elegance took a mature, and darker turn as did her own demeanor. Hopefully, she'll be able to ask about it tonight.

Hermione must've been holding her breath, because she had to let out a small gasp as soon as she felt Fleur's cheek brush her own, taking in her scent of the meadow, and wildflower. Her cheeks now burned after that fleeting contact. Her mouth dried as she barely registered her own movements as she followed Fleur who ushered her in and took her robe, revealing her own simple outfit. Hermione had been too pre-occupied with how she had been reacting to notice Fleur's eyes take her in.

"Oh! I was planning on keeping that on," the younger witch felt like disappearing back into the corridor forever.

Fleur smiled, "Is it too cold in here?"

Hermione shook her head. No. It was perfect.

"Well then, I'll be sure to return this to you when you leave," and with a flick of her wrist and wand, the Auror had her robe vanish from sight. "Come settle Hermione," the way her name rolled off her tongue was something she would never get used to. "I don't bite… much." She chuckled at her own joke. There was a glimpse of the old Fleur she had remembered.

Fleur had dated Bill for a very brief moment after the Triwizard Cup. She remembered seeing her with him once when she visited the Burrow in the summer. They held hands a lot, which made Molly Weasley and Ginny roll their eyes alike. She couldn't help but feel also disgusted by the PDA they displayed, but a deeper, jealous part of her knew the real reason why. Their relationship had not lasted long. Hermione had always pressed Ginny for the gossip, and what had happened- as her own burning curiosity always had Fleur at the back of her mind- but the red-head wouldn't divulge much else other than, "Fleur had more important things to do." Every time Ginny expressed this, she would emphasize on the important part, and take on the voice of a stereotypical snobbish rich person. It made her frown, but Ginny always assumed it was only because she was just as annoyed as she was with the person that Fleur was. The brown-haired witch eventually gave up, as the younger Weasley sibling never seemed too pleased to talk about that particular quarter Veela. She did not want her to think she was into her… she wouldn't ever hear the end of it.

Brushing off those thoughts, Hermione took a seat on the couch near the fireplace in the spacious loft-like quarters. The red hues of the sky and the lowering sun let a cascade of warm light into the place. Hogwarts had always been a dusty castle, but it was always more apparent in the evening when the light shone directly into the windows, blocks of light made visible by skittering little specks of dust just floating around much like Peeves did in the halls. However, here, the sun that filtered through the windows felt inviting, warm, and oddly clean. The sunset painted the room in such a warmth that it made it easier for the brunette to feel at ease. Usually, the young brilliant witch found herself in the Library at this hour, pouring over books in her favourite nook. The smell of old parchment, and even more dust settling around the shelves was her place of safety. The sunsets were always even more beautiful at that particular window, but for once tonight, this loft with Fleur definitively felt more alluring.

Even her room was decorated in a way that spoke volumes of her sophisticated taste. It was simple, minimalist, but elegant, comforting, and cozy. She remembered seeing a few magazines in her parent's dentist office waiting room about home decorations. The pages were full of colourful pictures that always seemed too sterile. But Fleur managed to make it look just as good and feel warm and inviting.

With a quiet exhale, the bushy haired girl made final attempts to flatten her unruly hair by passing her fingers through her thick locks.

Fleur joined her and sat at the other end of the same couch, but not before extending her elegant arm with a wine glass holding a dark, velvety liquid. Surprised, Hermione looked at the Auror inquisitively.

"I'm only giving you that one glass of wine, don't worry," Fleur winked, "I won't tell your teachers. But I also respect if you don't wish to have any," she added. "Though you seem a little on edge. I assume you have a lot of questions for me tonight."

Fleur had noticed how she was feeling. She felt a little embarrassed for not keeping her cool under wraps, but it had been hard these days. Not when she didn't expect the return of the blonde Veela, and at her school as an Auror no less. Those blue eyes always captivated her. Hermione couldn't help but feel like she was talking to a completely different person than the one she knew from the Triwizard Tournament, or the Fleur from the Borrow. Back then, the quarter Veela couldn't read the room and always blurted anything and everything that came to her small minded brain.

The student accepted the wine glass with a smile and a thankful nod. She looked at her glass and swirled around the liquid inside. She's seen her parents do it a few times. There was a period in her youth where she also tasted it. Her Dad once sneaked her a sip at her aunt's dinner when he himself, had a bit too much, but she had always hated the taste. Hermione took a moment to examine her glass, though to be truthful, she didn't know exactly what to look for in the skirt of the wine. The girl then smelled the contents inside, and to her surprise, it wasn't the strong scent of alcohol she had been expecting. It was light, and pleasant. Hermione took a small sip. It was fragrant, and fruity. Fleur must have known, that perhaps at her age, wine wasn't ever a choice at dinner at Hogwarts, and so she must have chosen something a little easier on the palate. It was dangerously good. The bitterness wasn't overpowering like the wine her parents drank.

"Thank you," Hermione managed. She felt more comfortable being there. The proximity between them was close, but it wasn't awkward. After all, Fleur had a habit of sometimes disrupting her study sessions at the library by appearing out of nowhere and scaring the Gryffindor right out of her. This made her somewhat accustomed to being around her. This, however, was a much more personal setting. "I do have questions for you," she started. "I also want to thank you for taking time out of your day to talk with me. And to invite me to dinner no less. You have a really lovely place, Fleur."

The quarter Veela chuckled as she made herself comfortable, bringing in her long, lean legs in as she draped her arm over the armrests. Other hand swirled her own glass. "Sounds like we're in an interview," she mused. Her trademark smirk widened. Hermione recognized a bit more of the Fleur she used to know now. "Like I said, I don't bite. Unless the situation calls for it," she say coyly before taking a long sip, trying to mask her amusement. That sly Veela.

The brown haired girl sighed. She was, however, thankful for the ice breaking. Hermione breathed. "How come you decided to come to Hogwarts, of all places, Fleur?"

There was a moment where Fleur simply twirled her own glass of wine, piercing blue eyes transfixed on the nectar inside. She seemed to take her time to think about how to answer that. Hermione knew that France had their own organization of Auror that followed their own politics and rules in their country. Coming to England meant that they had either requested for her, or she had come out of her own will.

"I needed to come for personal reasons," Fleur finally broke the silence. "There are some things I wanted to see for myself. And as you know, Veela are joining the Dark Army." The Auror avoided eye contact with Hermione. The young witch felt like she might have been avoiding part of her question.

"I see…" The lack of eye contact made Hermione feel more bold, "I won't pry, but I do still want to ask you about Gabrielle." Fleur stiffened at the mention of her little sister, "Isn't she back in France?"

"Yes," Fleur took a moment to take a sip of her wine, still avoiding her gaze. There was a bit of a silence before she spoke again. "Our family was attacked by Voldemort's Death Eaters right after I had graduated from Beauxbaton. Had Guillaume, my mentor, not been in the area, we would have either been killed or been taken in as unwilling pawns to their cause."

"Oh my god, that's horrible! I… I am so sorry," taken by concern, Hermione hadn't even noticed her hand find Fleur's knee. The other woman seemed surprised, but she made no attempt to pull away. Though had it not been for the darkening room, and ambient flickering light from the fireplace, it would have maybe been evident that Fleur's cheeks had perhaps darkened a little. "Please tell me no one got hurt, and that your family is alright?"

The French Auror smiled before turning to look at her. The bright blue hue of her eyes never lost its intensity. They almost seemed to glow at times, and tonight happened to be those nights.

"Oui, heureusement. Gui came right in time to stop one of them from casting that horrible Veela torture spell on my grand mother who tried to protect us. It wasn't long before he managed to capture them and send them to our version of Azkaban in France. The Death Eaters themselves were French witches and wizards that Voldemort managed to recruit. His followers have strengthened in numbers I'm afraid…" Another sip of wine. Hermione finally noticed she had been holding her breath, as well as Fleur's knee, to which, she withdrew to also take a sip of her wine, and to hide her face from her deep blush. Fleur smiled to herself from that cute display of embarrassment. "After that attack, our family moved to a new location. A secret place, protected by the Ministry of France's Magic. That's when we found out that the Dark Lord was forcefully recruiting Veelas to their ranks to controlling people on a whim. We became priority for the Ministry to protect, but I sought Guillaume out. I wanted to make a difference for my people. I needed to be a part of this fight. Most of the Veela clans are currently in hiding, but unfortunately, some got forced into servitude. I want to find them, and I want to help them."

"I want to help too."

A pause. The blonde witch placed her wine glass down, eyes back on her, searching. There was a playful smile on her lips, eyes half lidded as they always were, body now fully relaxed and casually stretched out on the sofa. Fleur always had that incredibly sultry aura about her, no matter what she said or did. Hermione suddenly felt small. The room felt a little warmer, and her heart started racing. Was the wine giving her a buzz?

"That's sweet Hermione. Truly. But you have no idea of what dangers lie ahead." A similar feeling swept over the younger witch, much like earlier in class when she and Fleur had danced. Her head started feeling light. Was Fleur using her thrall on her at this moment? Hermione furrowed her brows but the feeling of euphoria settled in, and all indignation was forgotten. She felt great.

"Fleur what-" But before she could finish her sentence, the pleasant mist that started to seep into her mind thickened. The quarter Veela must have been going easy on her in class, because this was overwhelming. It felt more like an intoxicating fog that permeated her every senses. She felt like she was being held firmly against Fleur, as the both of them sinked towards the depths of an eternal dark lake. A sense of danger washed over her, but the reassuring presence of the quarter Veela made it feel like everything would be okay.

"Set the table for me, Hermione."

Without hesitation, Hermione got up from the sofa, placed her wine glass onto the table and promptly got to work. As if knowing where everything was, she came back with the cutlery, the plates, napkins, and meticulously placed everything perfectly before turning to the Veela who was watching her, amused, on the couch and who had even made herself more comfortable by stretching those long legs across to where Hermione was once sitting. The room had considerably darkened as the sun had fully set. Now, only the fireplace, and the distant lamp in the corner illuminated them. Fleur's blue eyes glowed lightly. The woman was radiant in every way. It was hard not for her to take in how good she looked. Her blouse and those two undone buttons revealed only a little bit… she wondered if more of them could be unfastened. Her collarbone was somewhat visible, and it was all Hermione could focus on. Fleur chuckled, breaking Hermione's gaze. The younger witch felt her face burn hotter than fire but she wasn't sure if this was from shame or the dizzying thrall itself.

"Hermione," Fleur whispered her name, with her god forsaken French accent. She was definitively milking it. "I need you to stop thinking about me."

The brunette's head buzzed painfully. How could she, when all she could literally conjure in her mind was Fleur? Her cloudy thoughts of the quarter Veela had a hard time leaving, as she now unwillingly went through the memories. Their first time meeting at Hogwarts, when Beauxbaton opened the introduction ceremony with a waltz through the Great Hall. Their eyes met for a split second, but Hermione, in that instant, knew this confirmed a lot of her sexuality for women. Ever since that moment, Fleur had been a part of her thoughts often.

The time at the Burrow where she caught her and Bill making out in the attic- but instead of breaking apart and apologizing, the quarter Veela only maintained eye contact with her as she kissed Bill who hadn't noticed her yet. Or that time when all the Weasleys decided to play Quidditch, and that impressive save from a bludger to the face that Hermione almost received courtesy of Ron. Fleur came in at the last second and hit that heavy bludger so hard that the bat splintered, and Ron had to be sent straight to an unhappy Molly for several broken ribs after receiving Fleur's devastating defense against his own ball.

The time she felt disappointed when she found out that Bill and Fleur were no longer dating, and therefore, wouldn't be seeing her around the Burrow- but then seeing her in the Headmaster's room in those dark robes, silvery hair, and matured figure. Her eyes had matured as well, losing a bit of that innocence, but Hermione felt the strongest connection to them more than ever. The pain, and suffering inflicted by Voldemort was apparent now that the Gryffindor knew of her struggles. Hermione couldn't help but feel an even stronger need to know the person behind the mask.

Then, unprompted, the freshest memory of today, seeing her keel over after Snape cast that horrible curse on the Auror…

Fleur's orders rang in her mind as she tried to grasp onto anything that could help her break out of the trance that swirled in her mind incredibly fast. The thought of Fleur shielding her sister as Death Eaters closed in on them… Thinking about how much torment was inflicted on Fleur and the Delacour family wasn't where she wanted to be. She much rather go back to Fleur's eyes- but this cleared the heavy fog in her mind a bit. She felt herself pull away from the Fleur bringing her deeper into the depths of darkness, and start to swim back to the surface. She had to pursue it.

"That's it. Incredible." The real Fleur's eyes widened as she watched the Gryffindor struggle against her thrall. "Whatever can take your mind somewhere else, hone in on it."

Another deep breath. Hermione managed to close her eyes now. Her thoughts flickered from Fleur's stunning figure on the couch, and what her skin must feel like, and if she could just help her undo a few more buttons… to thoughts of Death Eaters' hands getting to her instead, reaching for her throat.

Her head hurt. The thick fog that had taken her mind by force refused to let her go to painful places, it held her back from entering painful thoughts, but her conviction to help the quarter Veela, and to seek justice for her and her people begged her to keep at it. The fog started to clear. Hermione was finally surfacing from the lake.

"Impressive," the French Auror sat up. And with those words, the oppressive feeling of euphoria, and the headache that Hermione had begin to develop, vanished. She felt like she regained control of herself again. Now her own thoughts of Fleur crumbling to the floor after being hit by Snape's Aegritudo spell flooded her mind. The younger witch had to shake her head and hold her temples in pain. Ping ponging back and forth between thoughts this opposite of each other made her heart feel like lead. "Your brilliant mind never ceases to amaze me," Fleur took Hermione by the waist and guided her back to the sofa so she could rest. "I ordered you to stop thinking about me, a direct contradiction to the Veela Charm. Usually, the charm overpowers anything else…" Fleur brushed the hairs that had fallen in Hermione's face and tucked it gently behind her ear, "but the mind of Hermione Granger is a powerful one."

Hermione had trouble coming back to the present. Her mind still felt heavy. The Auror had no idea that Hermione had to still think about her getting hurt to break slightly away from the charm. She had no idea herself why her thoughts had gone there, but it wasn't something she wished to revisit. The Hogwarts Student breathed heavily. It took awhile for her to come back to reality after replaying some of the more painful memories, but when she came to, the delicious smell of whatever had been in the oven was now set out in front of her, and a plate gently pushed in her hands with what must have been the most delicious looking casserole she'd ever seen.

"Sorry I put you through that," Fleur had taken her place on the sofa next to her again. Hermione didn't remember her getting up or bringing the food at all. "I just didn't know if you'd be able to help me without much experience with the Veela charm. I can't have you be in danger like that. Most of my mission is to protect Hogwarts, but also to liberate Veela who have been enslaved."

The younger witch took a bite out of the meal she had been handed. The creamy goodness of the ingredients melting together definitively helped her feel better. Hermione never really had French Cuisine, but this was something she'd eat again. She must have been stuffing her face, forgetting for a moment where she was, and in who's presence, but a light laughter, like bells, immediately reminded her.

"I'm so sorry, this is so good!" Hermione motioned towards her plate. She gulped, face reddening.

"Don't worry about it. The mind burns a lot of energy when exerted. You need as much food as possible after what I put you through."

Hermione had already finished her first helping, and Fleur already served her seconds with a magic spatula and the dish courteously lifting from the table and to the sofa. The brunette felt thankful that this wasn't a formal setting, and that they were able to remain seated on the sofas. It felt more casual. But she did notice the presence of Fleur closer to her than ever, and Hermione did not mind it one bit. It reassured her the woman was safe after going through all those horrible thoughts.

"I'm serious about helping you. I want to help you protect your family, and your people. For Gabrielle!"

Fleur's eyes lightened as she laughed, "You know I love Gab very much, and I wouldn't leave her alone at home without proper protection. My mentor Guillaume is there to protect her if he needs to. She's become quite a powerful witch herself," Fleur said fondly. Though there was a tinge of uncertainty. "I came here because there is someone important to me here, too."

Hermione dug inside her head for a moment. Who could she possibly be talking about? Everything still felt a little fuzzy, Hermione truly felt exhausted. Could Fleur be talking about Professor Dumbledore? The man was such a powerful wizard already, he didn't need assistance. But then she immediately thought of Harry. How could she be so stupid and not think about The Boy Who Lived, who had his prophecy revealed just last year at the Ministry. He was the one to defeat the Dark Lord and keeping him alive must be the entire world's Wizarding population's highest priority. No wonder France's Wizarding Ministry sent her here as added reinforcements.

"Of course. It's Harry." Hermione stated, sure of it. Fleur avoided her gaze to pick her wine glass up and bring it to her lips. Hermione felt like she hadn't exactly gotten the right answer, but logically, it had to be. She was fully convinced, and it was important to her to protect him too. "Yes, you must let me help you protect him too! What the Death Eaters are doing to the Veela is horrible, and I want to help liberate them. With you."

This time, Fleur sighed. She passed her fingers through her long, beautiful locks of golden hair, and finished her glass. The younger witch wasn't sure if she was pushing her towards a hangover by just having her around, but no one could be more stubborn than her when her mind was set on something. Not even Ron.

"I can't have you be in danger like that," Fleur began. But her eyes flicked over back to her, "though something tells me you won't take 'no' as an answer. I learned that today when you chased me down the halls."

Hermione felt a bit of heat rise in her cheeks, but she maintained eye contact to let her know she wasn't backing down, "that's right. I'm quite persistent." Fleur smiled at how cheeky the younger witch was being.

"Very well then. Your private classes with me begin next week."