Tell Me Your Secrets
Author: Ladyfun
Rating: M. Why? Because.
Summary: Hermione and Fleur, in the post-war world, find themselves in the unsettling role of colleagues with more than a bit of lingering and forbidden attraction towards one another, despite their obligations to others. One fateful evening, courtesy of the firewhiskey, they admit their repressed secrets and darkest desires, to one another. Problem is, one can't unring a bell, once rung...nor the actions that follow. Angsty Fleurmione!
Disclaimers: I don't own Harry Potter or any of its merchandising- all of this is in wholesome, non-profit fun. Ownership belongs to JK Rowling as everyone in the free world is aware. Will have some kinks in later chapters, disclaimers forthcoming as needed...
A/N: Yep- its the end. True dat. Loved writing this- love these two. Thank you those of you who held on till the bitter end. Couple o' chapters left maybe epilogue.
Chapter FIN. The Truth Shall Set You Free, Part I.
It was just as horrifying as Hermione imagined.
As Fleur and Hermione's bonding had become complete, the Veela elders decided the leadership and successor "issue" had to be addressed. As Hermione was led, silently, to the Sacred Grounds, the undercurrent of magic was undeniable. Hermione felt charged, for the first time in many months; she felt alive. Her own magic crackled at the tips of her fingers, in a way it had only a few times previously...
Her other presumed "last stands."
Hermione could only hope she hadn't used up the sum total of her nine lives in those moments of desperation and finality; she would say she suspected she need all the luck possible now. Looking at the crowd, they looked right back at her. ...Some admiring some disgusted, but all invested completely and totally invested.
As her gaze swept from left to right, jaw slightly agape, The brightest witch of her generation was speechless, as she found herself in such a throng of classical beauty amongst a critical mass of Veela. Rarely would they ever congregate in such large numbers. Never had she ever seen such a collection of beautiful and eretherial beings. Even her own bride looked different, as soon as they arrived. She had to still her heart as she gazed over at her Fleur; her hair seemed to light from within, seeming taller, more vibrant, and definitely more purposeful.
The look of determination on her face, as she gripped Hermione's hand, tightly, was absolutely heart-stopping.
Sometimes she forgot- not often- how exceptional her mate truly was, even amongst the exceptional.
Even Fleur's sister, Gabrielle, seemed somehow older and worldlier. In this setting. Hermione reflected on the Delacours, momentarily. It had always been a given that Fleur would be an able and worthy successor to her mother, the bylaws were such that without a possibility of a Veela offspring, the fate of the rule of the House of Delacour would now come to an end.
The House that had led the Clan for over three centuries, with prosperous outcomes.
Despite the rigidity of the archaic rule, it was also mandatory Veela tradition to allow the outgoing leadership make an appeal to the quorum, and the possibility of majority vote could overturn the rule. Incredible democracy for such a longstanding autocratic state of rule, really.
The Appeal.
Hermione knew it - Apollene and she hadn't become such a successful paring for naught, back in her government days. Hermione instinctively knew that's what her ex-partners next move was; she knew that's what Apollene was counting on. The appeal was a perfect opportunity. The formidable retired Auror and her ability to persuade the masses during the appeal proceedings was going to be the Delacours final stand. After all, she was known for being very persuasive, back in the day. Yes, she was fierce, and occasionally downright terrifying; however, to define her to only by her warrior qualities would belie the truly amazing diplomatic acumen she possessed. The opponent that thought of her only as the fiercely brutal Auror for which she was legend would leave said opponent woefully unprepared.
Because her trait that was the most effective, time and time again, was that of her cunning ... hence the nickname, "The Silver Fox."
XOXOOXOXOXOOXOX
Apollene, given the sensitive nature of the proceedings - the loss of rule by the Delacours, to the Mendoncias- she had decided to remove herself as presiding over the electorate.
As Hermione predicted, she was fierce in the appeal. The Silver Fox did give a very persuasive argument, enough to sway even a few of the people that have had their mind long made up. Unfortunately, tradition so longstanding was too much to overcome, even for somebody as powerful as Apollene. She had brought Hermione's war record; naturally, leaving few without tears at the sacred grounds-even some tears were shed by a few Mendoncias. She regaled the electorate with tales of her service afterwards to the government. She discussed her character traits and admirable qualities that made her not simply a good daughter-in-law, but a good code leader of the next generation. She concluded by reminding them that it would be an honor to have her join their clan.
Would it be the worst thing in the world, she offered, to have the rulership pass with Fleur and Hermione's offspring, even if non-Veela? It was a tough question indeed but one she force them to consider, given what they both brought to the table.
Unfortunately, tradition was simply too hard to overcome.
The Delacour's found themselves left with three votes short. Apollene looked up to the crowd, a indecipherable expression on her face.
"Veela-wait! Sit!" She commanded. "We are remiss...we 'ave forgotten somezing." she ordered.
The Veela sat, curious.
"I 'ad 'oped it wouldn't come to this. Zat I wouldn't be forced to do zis..." She looked to the side, motioning an onlooker. "Monsieur Potter, s'il vous plait. Bring ze Muggles!"
In walked Harry Potter, alone, watched by hundreds of curious Veela onlookers. He began to ward off the sacred ground, looking for obvious Routes for escape and possible treachery, in his role as Head Auror.
"Harry?" Hissed Hermione, clearly dumbfounded.
He gave her a backward glance, grinning broadly. He pause momentarily, giving her a silent thumbs up. The Auror quickly went back to work however, without any explanation offered to his best friend.
The crowd was murmuring with anticipation, and Apollene looked pleased.
Fleur, with her attenuated hearing, caught one of the Mendoncia twins make a snide comment.
"Oh please ... tell me we don't have to hear about the golden trio, again. That's just tired! But bringing Harry Potter himself and that's pathetic and desperate!"
Quicker than a cheetah, Fleur was in her face.
"You Devil! I promise you this, you ungrateful wretch...regardless of who is in charge of this clan, for the rest of your days I will ensure you thank Harry, Hermione, and Ron for the sacrifices they made for us. For the childhood they gave up. For the scars they still have inside and out fighting for freedom...our freedom, you ungrateful cur!"
Fleur's eyes flashed red.
There was something downright majestic and terrifying, both, in the mature Fleur Delacour-Granger. Her presence, her certainty, her confidence; before her third decade, she had managed the Gravitas of her mother. Bowing up to her the other twin who wasn't directly in her line of wrath, said snidely, "Can it, Fleur! Your days are numbered here. You can't really throw your weight around like you used to- I recommend you get adjusted to that."
She grinned and sniffling foul grand that made Fleur's blood boil. It was only a familiar soothing voice and a gentle touch on her back that stop the transformation from happening.
"Fleur, darling, " soothed Hermione. "Forget about them."
As they walked away, hand-in-hand, Hermione cast a quick glance over her shoulder to regard the overly smug girls.
"You know," the Golden Girl said calmly, appearing thoughtful, "I realize I'm new to this party; however, one thing I've learned in my short time here, is this: never count out a Delacour."
Hermione Delacour-Granger's calm demeanor and quiet voice was somehow far more threatening to the two twins, for some reason; they swallowed hard feeling nervous all of a sudden.
"Mudblood!" Muttered the twin with the false bravado, under her breath.
"Yes, Beast?" Hermione responded. If the situation weren't so serious, she would actually be laughing at the irony. She had been insulted by that word many times by fair worthier opponents, after all. It was almost funny.
Almost.
Hermione quickly surmised that there was nothing funny or ironic about the eyes she saw in front of her. Eyes pinging back and forth, borderline crazy with lust for power and the craving of acceptance. Those eyes reminded the brains of the trio of the ones she had seen over her with a cursed dagger, and every night in her nightmares, when she had them. The crazed Bellatrix Black, reincarnated, as a Veela, apparently.
The eyes of power-crazed blood lust.
She was only pulled from her observations by the excited shouts and screams of the Veela around her. Hermione looked around, confused. Dozens of Veela's were pointing, towards the top of the hill to their flank. Their excited cries indicated that a hooded figure was located, quietly observing with her multiple attendants.
"Mon Dieu!"
"It's her!"
"Oh Merde! Is it really? Is it La Veela Prêtresse?"
All the voices held the same excited reverence. Hermione was utterly baffled. She had never come across "La Veela Pretress," in all her many readings on Veela culture and subculture. That bothered the dogged researcher in her. Hermione frowned, thinking she would have to go back, and cross-reference some of her notes...
She could hear Fleur's throaty laugh next to her. "Even in ze midst of war, 'ermione, I can't 'elp but to find you...adorable."
Hermione's brows furrowed in confusion. "What? Why?"
"Your big, beautiful mind, my darling, zinking zat you 'ad missed some zing..." Fleur snorted, a few puffs of smoke coming out of her nostril, reminding her she didn't have the Veela locked too far away. "You did nozing wrong. It is illegal to speak of La Pretresse."
"What?"
"Oui! She is ze oldest known living Veela. She is 874 years of age, Hermione. She is ze original seer."
"Oh. I see...again, I request: What. The. Hell?"
Fleur laughed. "Well, zat iz most of ze sentiment, ma belle! She will send out a cryptic message once every decade or so. But to deliver her message, in person, is shocking. It must be important."
The thoughts of Fleur-The-Veela emerged. It is rumored, my dear, that she is the one who transmitted the message that was later incanted to Sybil Trelawney.
NO WAY.
Way!
Well, tie me to an anthill and put honey on my ears! Wow...
The Veela watched, enthralled, as the elderly Veela released one of her hawks, which landed on Apollene's shoulder, waiting for her to untie the message.
She read the message, frowning, her eyes darkening rapidly. He face looked pained as her gaze glanced towards where Hermione and Fleur were seated, but she said nothing, and gave away nothing. However, her eyes couldn't lie...they looked a little saddened.
Apollene whispered towards the Veela who sat in her stead, and her eyes widened. She immediately called a parliamentary recess, and the group was dismissed for a brief interlude.
XOXOXO
Hermione had tried hard not to read anything into Apollne's affect, and keep her own face neutral, especially for the purposes of keeping Fleur calm. It's a red were in intermittently appearing in Fleurs eyes, signaling that there was a storm brewing underneath her gorgeous visage with the calm exterior.
Hermione chose to speak to her in the language of the Veela.
What are you looking at, Fleur? What's on your mind?
I can smell you, little one...
Shit on a Stick, really? Here? Honestly, Fleur, your timing is ridiculous! And quite honestly, after what you did to me last night, I was unsure I'd be able to sit right for weeks!
Fleur the human was giving her a rather lewd look. She leaned forward. "Tell me...what did your Veela lover do to you, exactly, 'ermione?" Her nostrils flared, and Hermione could help the embarrassed flush that crept across her face.
She leaned over, conspiratorially, however refusing to back down from the challenge.
"Well, Fleur, my Veela mate decided ...hmm, well, to fuck my brains out, via my anal canal, then my vaginia, to be quite frank. Then my Veela lover went back to my anus again, until it became obvious this wasn't a typical one of our fucks, and the Veela pulled their incredibly rude dimensions out of my anal fourschette while I was distracted from what was going on..."
"...what waz going on?" Fleur breathed, heavily.
"Oh, well, you know...this and that. Bits and Bobs."
"No, I don't know," Fleur growled, eyes flashing to dark black. "I 'ave never 'ad a Veela lover; I 'ave never been taken in ze ass, 'ermione..."
Hermione flushed, looking around. She was relieved when she saw they had complete privacy.
Fleur's eyes blackened."...so, I suggest sat you continue, to describe these events to me, ma Cheri. Maintenant!"
Hermione chewed on her lips as small grin escaping her face. "Well, my Veela lover bit my shoulder, claiming me for nearly the 12,000th time..."
"Mmmm, hmmm," exhaled Fleur. "Did it...hurt?" She asked, the arousal evident in her voice.
Hermione nodded. "Yes. It did, and it does, actually. But, absolutely equaling out the pain..."
Fleur licked her lips. "Oui?"
"...is...is the fact...it arouses me..."
Fleur growled, with anticipation. "Oui?"
"...yes. So fucking much!" Hermione said, her voice low.
The weight of the confession caused her to exhale a breath she was unaware she was holding . "In fact, I literally drench the sheets, with the sheer amount of arousal I squirt when my Veela lover claims me..."
Fleur's hand had disappeared under the tablecloth, as she began to massage herself between her legs, to relieve a little of this massive pressure. "Go on, sil vous plait, 'ermione..." Fleur growled, moving towards her lover's ear.
Closer, she whispered, "And, bien sur, I fantasize about ramming into you..."
"I see."
"So hard, 'ermione. So hard, and so full..." Her voice was discreet, but the obscene way Hermione's pussy responded just to Fleur Delacour's silky voice...
Hermione wasn't sure, but she suspected she let out a little whine.
"...And now?" Fleur panted, still whispering into Hermione's ear.
"Now, what?" Hermione gasped.
"Zat needy hole of yours, doez it gape, now? Gape wide, just ...waiting for me?'
Hermione gasped, the arousal coursing through her body, at Fleur's filthy talk. She was tensing with sudden arousal, and the utter inappropriateness behavior, given what was happening outside, just added to the torture. Despite willing her body to respond otherwise, her nipples were taut to a hard nub, and sending small currents to the area in question.
"Oh, I'd say your evil plan worked, Veela-girl. Yes...it worked." She looked directly at Fleur. "In fact, it worked so well that my hole now gapes, wide, Fleur...all the time!"
Fleur was panting.
Hermione whispered, "what you've done to me, Fleur...my hole is absolutely ruined for anyone who were to come afterwards, unable to find any traction."
"How big?" Fleur's voice was almost incompressible, heavy with arousal.
She squeezed Fleur's bicep, hard, and hissed. "Please, you Pig! You know how you've stretched me...my opening is permanently open to ...oh, I don't know...Almost the size of a Navel orange?"
"Only... an orange?"
Hermione's expression was incredulous. "Only-?" She sputtered, in disbelief.
Fleur leaned over. "I 'ave it on very good authority, zat your Veela wants your fuckhole to sag...at least to ze size of a grapefruit! Still enough to be tight for your Veela Mate, to squeeze into your chamber...but far too loose for anyone else to gather any real satisfaction from entering you...ever."
Hermione looked at Fleur in disbelief.
"Now..." Fleur gasped, in a painfully aroused state. "I want to fuck you now, 'ermione..."
"Mmmmm...you don't say, my delicate bride! Really?"
"Oh, I do...I want to grab you, 'old you down, and enter you, 'ard! I want to dilate your 'ole, with such force, 'ermione, zat your 'ole will gape for me, az ze only one that can enter you, and gain satisfaction. Knowing you are worthless to anyone else, but me..."
"Worthless is a pretty strong word, there, Delacour. Really?" Hermione said, attempting to keep a straight face.
Fleur was looking feral. "Yes, really. When I am done wiz you, 'ermione, zere will be no doubt who your body belongs to...my ownership, over you," she leaned in close to Hermione to whisper, "My member, ramming into you, coming in you...My Veela load, left inside in you...to someday, get you pregnant wiz our bebe..."
Well, Fleur had definitely woken everyone awake with that little tirade! The Golden girl blushed, but had a huge realization.
"Fleur!" She exclaimed.
"essssss...Fleur hissed, as she licked her lips, in response ."What? Haven't you realized by now little girl that Vela I designed for two things: to fight, and to fuck. And as I believe you've realized, the Delacours are the quintessential Veela..."
Fleur licked her lips. "No, come 'ere. I want to stick my large member in you, deeply, and remind you of zat fact..."
"Fleur! "
The Human on the verge of turning, was walking towards her with a predatory gaze. Fleur could feel herself beginning to transform. Her fingers were elongating, her back was tingling, where her wings were dying to break free, and she felt the phantom suggestions of a painful erection, beginning..
"Fleur! Stop!"
Fleur startled.
"Fleur...do you realize what just happened? Talking about what you are going to do to me...how hard you're going to 'fuck me with your hardened member' and such..."
"And...what of it?"
"Fleur," Hermione said, seriously, "It's the first time you've referred to something like this as "our need.' You spoke off you and your Veela ...as one! For the first time...finally!"
Hermione looked pleased.
Fleur, however, for her part , simply looked shocked.
XOXOXOXO
They would not get the opportunity to explore this further as the recess was called. The proceedings commenced again this time with a shocking twist. Apollene was not able to unveil the purpose of Harry Potter being there or anything regarding the message given to her previously by the elder Veela; rather the proceedings were hijacked by the tactical Etoille.
The eldest Mendoncia called for it.
"It"...Formally referenced as "Le sang duel de la mort", it was better known as "The Blood Duel". It was employed only in times when the honor had been cast in doubt upon their Clan or individual house, and it was well within the rights to call for the ancient tradition. In this case, it was the House of Delacour pitted against the House of Mendoncia. Etiolle Mendoncia was a smart old bird- her argument was claiming vilification and desantification of the Veela, but she took it on as a personal insult, instead. Importantly it would end and table any discussion and prevent Apollene from unveiling whatever little surprise She had in store vis a vis Harry Potter's appearance.
she never underestimated the Silver Fox; this was in part why every relative of her family was present that day, just about. Because at the Quorum vote held that day on the sacred Grounds, the blood relations of the Mendoncias outnumbered the Delacours by 3:1...
The discrepancy in numbers became readily apparent as they members of each household lined up on the pitch. The Delacour's fought valiantly, but they were quite simply just outnumbered. Frustrated by being sidelined, the onlookers were held back by a silent wall that separated them from the Duelists. Only blood members of the Delacour family or the Mendoncia family could engage in this fight.
Via a bit of borderline dark magic five of the Mendoncia's had finally subdued Fleur, and had her on the ground.
One set of experienced old eyes watched rapt, waiting to see the events that would unfold...It was in that moment Hermione stood up and walked through the wall.
The Mendoncias stood with their backs towards the crowd, oblivious of Hermione's imminent approach.
Wandlessly and wordlessly, the smartest witch of her era cast an Expellerimalis that had disarmed seven witches and wizards, simultaneously. A gasp from the audience erupted, witnessing something they'd never seen before: a multi-point disarming spell -issued without a wand, no less!
Ignoring the murmurs of the crowd, Hermione took the seven individual wands, as they flew into both of her hands. She clutched them tightly, eyeing the shocked Mendoncias and the quickly escalating situation. In the blink of an eye, Hermione would make a situational decision that would be talked about for generations.
The Mendocias advanced upon her, clearly in an attempt to recover their wands. Measuring her gaze at the mass that was starting for her, hoping to retrieve their wands by brute force. And that split second, Hermione did ..."it."
Her defining moment.
Looking skyward, she raised the wands in each hand, and lifted them up. The strange action caught her soon to be attackers off guard, and it cause them to temporarily pause. It was all the time she needed.
The Golden Girl shot the wands into the air, with a burst of pink flame, and burned them all to a charred ash.
"Nooooo!" Cried one of the Mendoncias. "My wand!"
"You son of a beetch!" Screeched one of the others.
It was only after the shock had worn off that they observed the situation closer. Their eyes had been drawn to the wands themselves that were set ablaze, understandably...
However, they soon realized the source of the incandescent fire itself was being emitted directly from Hermione Delacour - Granger's open palm! Several sets of eyes skated back and forth between the calm brunette and the wands in their destruction. It would appear that the Golden Girl had set ablaze the entire set of wands using the fire generated from her own set of hands...
...Exactly as the Veela do.
XOXOXOXO
Hermione looked at the mob of seven. Although the Delacours were rising, and looking a bit better, they remained physically subdued, still. Hermione didn't like it. Had she truly subdued the Mendoncias, wouldn't victory ensure the spells be lifted? Her battle-tested instincts were going haywire, trying to alert her to imminent danger. And, she noted, she still couldn't speak aloud.
That danger she feared would quickly reveal itself...
She felt a short jab on the back of her neck. A tip of a wand angled up into Hermione's now very clenched jaw.
"Keep you movements slow, n'est-ce pas? No sudden movements, please." Said the heavily accented female voice behind her.
Raising her hands to the air, she looked at her "captor," the last combatant who had snuck up on her. Hermione had counted everyone, she felt certain this person was a Johnny-Come-Lately, and as she took in the young girl, barely sixteen, wand hand shaking furiously, Hermione realized why she had not been counted.
The girl who was still dressed in her Beauxbaton's pale blue uniform had obviously not been there when the melee started.
Likely summoned by one of her family members, Hermione surmised.
The girl's eyes grew as big as saucers, when she realized who exactly it was, that she had captured. "Mon Dieu!" She gasped. "You're...you're ..." her voice trailed off. Her eyes were horrified.
Since Hermione was still unable to speak, due to the throat capture spell, she attempted to soften her features and smile, doing her best to remain calm. The girl seemed on the verge of hyperventilation. Hermione's eyes couldn't help but to soften when she realized what an unwilling combatant this barely legal young woman truly was.
Her eldest sister yelled at her. Nathlee shouted in her typically unpleasant screech, "Bernadette! Ca suffit! Do it! Do it now, damn you!"
The young girls eyes widened, and her grip on her wand was noticeably shaky, as she clearly winced from the harsh words of the older Veela.
Hermione closed her eyes, exhaled, and silently entered the younger girl's mind.
You don't have to do this, you know. You can be your own person. She suggested to the terrified girl.
"I do...you don't know zem..." She whispered.
Hermione grimaced. No, my dear girl, you don't know them. I learned a lot about them when I tracked the Veela case, several years ago. Collette, et al...they had a lot to share about your sisters. I feel as though I have a very realistic picture of them.
"What is the problem?" Yelled the irritated mother. "Kill her, Bernadette! Now!"
Hermione closed her eyes, breathing calmly. I forgive you, Bernadette... she braced herself.
But the killing curse did not come. Instead there was only a wavering young woman, torn, and crying, standing before her. She was staring at Hermione intently, her wand at her head.
"But...Maman! It...it is..." She cleared her throat. "It iz ... 'ermione Granger! You are asking me to kill...'ermione Granger, c'est vrai?" The young girl asked in disbelief.
Her family expected her to assassinate, in cold blood, Hermione Granger?
Hermione Granger...her childhood idol.
Hermione Granger, the teen who inspired millions throughout the wizarding world, the brains of the Golden Trio. The woman who had defeated an evil that would have surely ended the free world as they knew it, and most definitely, their kind. The woman who inspired a continent, and taught the world nothing is impossible, no matter how daunting the task seems nor the adversity one could face as a result. The woman who inspired her to study and to try for a job at the French Ministry, after graduation.
The woman who made her not feel so out of place in a family very out of sorts with her own personal beliefs.
The dour eldest Veela huffed. "Yes!" Her mother yelled, seething with anger. "Vat iz taking so long? KILL her!"
Young Bernadette Mendonca flinched at the harsh voice of her mother, and trembling, raised her wand, nonetheless. She pointed it at her hero, and swallowed.
"I'm sorry, Madame..." She whispered. "I'm so, so very sorry..."
The sacred grounds were completely and utterly quiet.
Hermione's eyes were not afraid, nor were they angry. Instead, they were just filled with compassion for the young 16-year-old girl in front of her, asked to do too much of her, at such a young age.
Up on the hill, a very elderly voice, murmured. "Well, look at that... It unfolds, exactly as predicted..."
TBC!