A/N: Hi all, sorry for the delay in posting this. New Zealand has recently been hit by a pretty devastating cyclone so things have been absolutely wild here trying to find family who have been displaced :(
Btw, if any one of my readers is of a generous spirit, I do have a ko-fi under /zerozerozero and absolutely do take bribes to update or finish old fics hahah.
Fleur was filling out some paperwork in her office when her boss ambled in, rapping on her door with his long goblin fingers.
The office seemed even larger as the knock bounced around the high ceilinged room, all wood and marble.
"Delacour?" The goblin rasped.
Fleur paused, glancing up and smiling politely.
"Yes, sir?" Fleur replied.
She had a horrible feeling that this was going to be another one of those "brief visits" in to the office that ended up with her having to run lengthy errands for her boss.
"I know you're just in here to fill in some paperwork," her boss began. Fleur all but accepted her fate at this point, "But I need you to accompany me with a particularly difficult private client to the vaults. The family vault she needs to access has some particularly complex curses on it… You have quite a way of curse breaking— it would be a great help on this one."
Fleur weighed up pushing back. She was wearing one of her nicer pairs of heels, which were sure to be ruined in the depths of the vaults. But, she was a sucker for a compliment related to her skill at her job. That and she could do with a break from the inane paperwork.
"Sure," Fleur answered finally, "Which vault is it?"
"The Black family vault," her boss replied, "We are to accompany Bellatrix Lestrange down there momentarily. Again, I am sorry to disturb you, but Bill is already down in the vaults with another client."
"That's okay," Fleur responded calmly, tidying up her ink well and quill.
Inwardly, she was anything but calm.
"So the Order are fighting the good fight," Harry summarised all they had been told over the past few days, "But they've gone a bit too far in several areas and we don't agree with all their views or how they're going about defeating Voldemort."
"Correct," Hermione said, sipping at her cup of tea. She was seated around a small table in one of the lesser visited wings of the large homestead, sharing a cup of tea with the boys she had come to call her best friends.
"And for some reason, it looks like Malfoy's mum has just gone and dropped one of these highly protected and hidden horcruxes right into our laps?" Ron added. This was the part the ginger was now struggling with the most. He had never trusted Draco Malfoy, and was naturally suspicious of the whole family.
"Yes, though the reason she would do so is a mystery," Hermione replied, chewing her lip. She had rolled this around her head several times since first suspecting the ring was a horcrux. "It's extremely doubtful it was an accident. How could a ring just fall off your finger like that without you noticing? Let alone one you've probably been told to protect with your life?"
"Maybe it is another counterfeit one," Ron offered, "Like the locket that fooled Dumbledore? Could be about to blow our heads off."
Ron and Hermione looked to Harry to confirm. His frown thinned and he shook his head.
"No… I dunno how to explain it… It isn't like some vague feeling of dark magic… It… It kind of… Connects to me? I feel it reach out and I can see… glimpses… I dunno, I don't really know how to explain it and I don't particularly want to talk about it either," Harry mumbled, rubbing the lightning bolt scar on his forehead, "Just… take my word for it. I'm sure about this one."
Hermione sighed. She understood Harry's grouchy demeanour. It must be dreadful having a tether to the Dark Lord inside your head half the time. But she really did wish he would elaborate a little more on details.
"So… I guess all that is left to do is… Destroy it?" Hermione said slowly, with trepidation. It was still very much burned into all of their memories how Dumbledore's hand was poisoned and withered. Who could tell what dark magic was imbedded in the ring?
"Perhaps we should ask Fleur for advice on first attempts? She deals with dark curses every day for work."
Harry looked reluctant. He seemed agitated, eager to destroy the horcrux in front of them on the table. He stared at it with a kind of fixated revulsion, like it was a spider he longed to squash.
His scar was a dark pink, perhaps from all the rubbing of his forehead, but it stood out sharply against his pale complexion.
Harry had always had a wiry, underfed look to him. But right now he looked particularly unhealthy. He was pale, apart from the odd patch of sunburn that had yet to heal. He had been lightly sweating all afternoon, despite the fact they had now sequestered themselves in the cold bowels of Grimmauld Place, far from the outside weather.
"I could ask Bill?" Ron asked, draining his own teacup.
Hermione restrained herself from facepalming. She knew her friend just wanted to be helpful.
"We've been through this, Ronald," Hermione said with stretched patience, "We can't share details of what we are doing or planning with anyone in the Order. That includes Bill and your parents."
"Oh, right," Ron replied, seeming a little disheartened.
Hermione worried that Ron was only able to commit to that in theory. It was all fine and good for him to agree to segregate himself from half his family hypothetically, but Hermione had a feeling that once the practical implications really hit, Ron would struggle to get used to distance within his very tight-knit family.
Crack.
The distant sound of a witch or wizard apparating into the residence.
The trio all sat up sharply in their chairs, exchanging wary looks.
"Were you expecting anyone?" Hermione asked Harry.
The dark-haired boy shook his head, withdrawing his wand and narrowing his eyes. Ron and Hermione followed suit, drawing their own wands.
This was exactly the reason they needed to move to Lupin's hideout as soon as possible. Too many people had access to Grimmauld Place now. Everyone in the Order was able to come and go. It only served as protection from the Dark Side.
Harry led the way with Hermione and Ron close behind. Hermione gritted her teeth, trying to prevent her pulse from racing away wildly.
The manor's usual creaks and groans sounded far more sinister all of a sudden. The shadows and scurrying figures in portraits around the edges of the rooms were doing nothing to settle the mood, either.
Hermione tried to be rational. The Order knew nothing of their planned departure. It was highly unlikely that whoever had arrived wished the trio harm. It was probably nothing.
But the trio held their wands before them all the same, no longer comfortable with the shifting terrain of their relationship with the Order.
Harry whipped into each room with athletic agility, searching quickly before indicating to the others that there was nobody there.
"Hello?" Harry called out loudly.
There was no response.
Fleur's high heels clicked loudly on the marble floors as she stepped primly alongside the goblins. Her face was impassive, a veneer of calmness.
But the hair on Fleur's neck was standing on end.
There was a gentle thud of combat boots behind her. Bellatrix Lestrange was quietly following Fleur and the two goblins with her.
Fleur had struggled to refrain from a reaction when her boss had led her out to meet the legendary witch. Fleur, even in France, had heard much about Bellatrix Lestrange and her violent legacy. She had seen pictures of her in textbooks and newspapers.
None of that had prepared Fleur for meeting the woman in the flesh.
Bellatrix Lestrange had an electric energy about her. Like bottled lightning, her eyes darted everywhere all at once, leaving people around her unable to tell when she might burst. She had been calm, unsettlingly so, when she had repeated her request to be taken to her family vault.
Fleur had been surprised by her voice. Soft, sweet. An undercurrent of cruel impatience. It was enough to send a shiver down anyone's spine.
She had been dressed in long black, flowing robes and black leather combat boots. Her hands and wrists glittered with jewellery, reminding Fleur distantly of Bellatrix's sister. Her makeup was dark and dramatic, framed by wild black hair that flowed past her shoulders.
She was taller than Fleur, though not by much. Yet, Fleur felt towered over by the Death Eater as they took the path down to the vaults.
The goblins summoned a cart, before ushering for Bellatrix and Fleur to enter first.
Fleur tensed her jaw as she stepped aside, politely allowing for Bellatrix to enter the cart. Bellatrix still hadn't paid much attention to her, not glancing at Fleur as she stepped past her and seated herself in the cart.
Fleur swallowed hard, before climbing in and taking the seat beside the dark witch.
The goblins clambered into the front of the cart, mumbling between themselves before the cart took off with a violent lurch.
Fleur gasped as Bellatrix Lestrange suddenly grasped her arm. As the cart swooped dramatically down into the depths of the vaults, Bellatrix released her grasp.
"Sorry," the Death Eater said emotionlessly, "These carts always take off so suddenly."
"It is okay," Fleur replied quietly.
The cart lurched around a dark corner, weaving its way to their destination.
"French?" Bellatrix queried.
Fleur nodded.
"I spent some time in France," Bellatrix commented conversationally, "Long ago."
Fleur wondered if Bellatrix was referring to one of Voldemort's many trips there during his initial reign of terror all those years ago.
Before she had to reply, they came to a swaying stop in front of a large vault door.
The goblins got out of the cart and approached the door first, one of them stroking their finger carefully down the door to release the first of the protections on the vault— one comprised of goblin magic.
They stepped aside quickly before turning to look at Fleur.
"Delacour?"
Fleur nodded her assent and climbed carefully out of the cart, stepping her way delicately to the vault door amongst the tracks, the debris, and the dirt. She withdrew her wand slowly, looking up at the large iron doors in front of her.
She had grown sensitive to curses in her time working at Gringotts. She could practically feel them radiating off the doors. Breathing slowly, Fleur moved her wand slowly at first, reciting some rudimental counter-spells.
She knew the spells that protected this vault. Powerful, devastating— but only if she erred in her work.
Taking a steadying breath, Fleur furrowed her brow, focussing on getting the delicate handwork perfect as she moved to the more complex spells required.
A dull clunk sounded deep within the iron doors. Then another one.
A few more spells— and some dreadfully complicated wand movements— later, the doors finally groaned open.
The iron screamed deafeningly as it yawned open to reveal a large vault. It was one of the more prosperous vaults Fleur had seen. A vast sea of gold, jewels, artwork, and other valuables.
"Impressive work," Bellatrix commented, stepping past Fleur and into the vault, "Though it would have been more entertaining to see what would have happened to you lot if you'd set off the curses."
Fleur didn't react, keeping her face impassive.
Bellatrix smirked as she observed her family's large fortune. She stood there for a moment, simply taking in her own wealth. As Fleur was beginning to wonder if that was all she had dragged them down there for, Bellatrix reached into her robes and withdrew a small goblet.
Fleur perked up.
Bellatrix held it up in the dim candlelight, looking at it wistfully. Fleur stepped closer, until she was able to spot a badger engraved into the cup.
Helga Hufflepuff's goblet? Perhaps.
With a disappointed smile, Bellatrix tossed the goblet onto a nearby mound of gold.
She turned quickly, frowning as she almost walked directly into Fleur.
"Heard of personal space?" Bellatrix snarked.
For a split-second, Fleur feared she had given away too much. But Bellatrix simply pushed past Fleur, bored and asking to be taken back to the foyer of the bank.
"We must reinstate the curses, Ma'am," one of the goblins informed Bellatrix.
Bellatrix rolled her eyes, climbing back into the cart while Fleur and the goblins set to work.
It didn't take as long as it usually did, with two goblins and Fleur working simultaneously. Less than ten minutes later, Fleur was climbing back into the cart.
As she went to take her seat, Bellatrix unexpectedly met her gaze. Her eyes were dark, chaotic. Fleur felt a sickening jolt of fear.
"Do I know you?" Bellatrix asked.
Fleur fell heavily into her seat as the cart took off.
"I don't think so," Fleur responded, keeping her voice steady.
The air whooshed past them, cold and forceful.
"You look very familiar," Bellatrix commented.
Fleur shrugged, maintaining her air of careful indifference.
It was an otherwise silent trip back to the surface. They all walked back up and out of the vaults without conversation, leading Bellatrix Lestrange back to the main part of Gringotts.
"Thank you for your use of our services," one of the goblins finally said, as it came time to part.
Bellatrix nodded, turning to walk back into the vast atrium of Gringotts.
Fleur felt like she could finally breathe freely again. She was beyond eager to get well away from the Death Eater and head back home.
"Wait," Bellatrix paused in her steps, "I know where I know you from."
Fleur froze. She wondered how fast she could reach for her wand. If she would even have time to reach it. But then Bellatrix turned back to her and smirked.
"The girl from the Triwizard Tournament," Bellatrix chuckled, "From the French school."
Fleur swallowed hard.
"Yes, that was me," Fleur replied stiffly.
Bellatrix laughed again.
"It's a shame what happened to your competitor," Bellatrix laughed, clearly not bothered at all by what had happened to Cedric Diggory.
And then she was gone.
Fleur's shoulders sagged with relief.
Harry, Hermione and Ron had searched most of the rooms in Grimmauld Place by now. They only had the kitchen area left, where they had sat that fateful evening after escaping the Death Eaters at The Burrow.
Harry paused outside the door briefly.
Ron glanced at Hermione, a silent check in. Hermione nodded at Ron.
Harry pushed the door open suddenly, bursting into the room. Hermione and Ron were at his side.
"Erm, Professor McGonagall?" Harry greeted, confused.
Minerva McGonagall was crouched in the middle of the room, partway through a muttered conversation with the house elf, Kreacher. At the intrusion, she stood up suddenly, straightening to her full height.
"Oh, there you are," McGonagall commented calmly, "I had looked in the main rooms for you, but couldn't find you."
"We were over in the other wing," Harry explained, "Thought we would have a change of scenery."
"Things look a bit tidier around here," McGonagall noted, looking around the kitchen. Harry and Ron had been slowly packing away useful supplies they might need for the move to Lupin's, resulting in a much tidier kitchen, laundry, and bedrooms.
"We've got nothing else to do," Ron shrugged.
"What were you after?" Hermione interrupted. It seemed a bit rude— but her last few interactions with Minerva had been harsh and forceful. She was already dreading what McGonagall had come for.
"Checking in," McGonagall replied simply, "These are dark times that we live in."
"I think I know that better than you," Hermione countered with barely contained anger.
Ron's eyebrows raised so high they almost disappeared in his hairline. He had never heard Hermione speak to any teacher like that, let alone McGonagall.
Harry glanced back at Hermione and Ron, unsure of what to do. He, too, seemed thrown by this new dynamic with their former head of house.
McGonagall sighed, looking suddenly very weary.
"I know you don't always see eye to eye with my approach," McGonagall said, addressing Hermione directly, "But I want you to know that my desires are the same as yours— for the Dark Lord to be defeated and for the wizarding world to be at peace again."
An overly simplistic way of looking at it, Hermione thought darkly. She didn't say it aloud. She had no interest in arguing with McGonagall again. Not when they had to keep things calm until their departure to Lupin's hideout.
"Sure," Hermione replied guardedly.
"Things are dangerous right now," McGonagall said, reaching into her robes, "I know we will not have the benefit of further time to learn and study at Hogwarts, but I wanted to ensure you are all as prepared as you can be to survive whatever comes next."
McGonagall withdrew a small duffle bag, tapping it with her wand. It grew to a regular size and she tossed it on the floor between them.
"What's in there?" Harry queried, cautious.
"Books," McGonagall replied, "On survival, on healing spells that are helpful in a war zone setting, on other useful topics. A tent, in case you are caught out and in need of shelter. Things can change in the blink of an eye, as we saw at Hermione and Fleur's wedding. We never know when we will suddenly have to adapt."
In that moment, Hermione saw the McGonagall she had known at Hogwarts— motherly, caring, eager to whip them into shape as strong and capable young people.
It tugged at her sentimentality.
It made her long to connect with McGonagall; tell her everything; seek her wisdom on the issues ahead.
Hermione bit the inside of her cheek. It didn't change how awful her recent interactions had been with the elder witch.
"Thank you," Hermione said gruffly. A small part of her really meant it. The gesture was nice, despite all the other tension between them. Despite McGonagall treating Fleur like an object and recklessly sacrificing others for her cause.
"You're welcome," McGonagall smiled at the trio, "I must go, but please, don't feel like strangers. I'm here if you need me. We all are."
With a crack, McGonagall had disapparated, leaving the trio in stunned silence.
Hermione sighed. She felt incredibly conflicted, once again, by the Order. Perhaps there was a hope of resolution in their future. But for now, she just couldn't see it happening.
Fleur had debriefed Hermione at their home before they had made their way to a bar to see Tonks. It was late, after dinner, and the bars of Muggle London were bustling.
The season was coming to a conclusion and the bars were filled with people drinking to the last days of a lazy summer. Probably the last peaceful summer that would be had for a while, Hermione thought darkly.
The incidents of violence carried out by the Dark Side were still few and far between, scarce enough that it didn't feel like a reality yet.
Hermione was wearing a long-sleeved white linen shirt, rolled up at the sleeves. Fleur was wearing a pretty dress, leading Hermione through the bar. Hermione followed her dutifully, feeling too tired to be in such a crowded place.
It had been a big day.
Holding Fleur's hand felt like the only thing tethering her to reality. Her head was spinning with thoughts and she longed to sit at a table surrounded by parchment and books.
But they didn't know how much longer they would have the freedom of being able to freely associate in public.
Tonks was located in a far flung booth in a quiet corner of the otherwise busy bar. She had a bottle of wine uncorked on the table and three glasses ready and waiting.
Fleur and Hermione smiled as they joined their friend.
"Big day?" Tonks greeted as Fleur immediately set to pouring the wine.
"Understatement," Hermione sighed, sitting down across from Tonks. She gratefully accepted her wine from Fleur, taking a large gulp.
"Thanks Blondie," Tonks chirped, accepting her wine from Fleur, "So, what did you want to debrief about? And why not at my place or yours? And why at a Muggle bar?"
"There is no point debriefing at any location we have at the moment," Hermione commented, halting the bubbly auror's stream of questions, "Anyone from the Order can stop past any of our houses with no warning, as McGonagall did to us today."
"Right," Tonks frowned, sipping at her own wine, "Though I don't know why Muggles insist on this breakable glass instead of a good solid goblet."
Fleur settled down next to Hermione, her hand coming to rest on Hermione's thigh as was now habit between them. Hermione smiled slightly at the touch. Something about Fleur grounded her amongst all the madness.
"Obviously, we can't say much now," Fleur said after a grateful sip of her own wine, "But today I discovered information useful to our cause."
"Another clue?" Tonks surmised. Her eyes scanned the busy bar around them, cautious.
Fleur tapped her glass before raising her eyebrows at Tonks. Tonks frowned for a moment, before her eyes lit up.
"Gotcha," Tonks nodded.
"But we can't do anything about it at the moment," Hermione added, "Given anybody can come and go from our current houses at the moment. We're already running enough of a risk."
"At least they desire the same outcome as us in regards to the clues," Tonks pointed out, "But I agree, tensions are rising and we will need to move soon."
"Is there anything you can do to speed Lupin up?" Fleur asked.
Though it had been valuable finding the location of a probable horcrux, it had clearly rattled Fleur coming into such close contact with such a prominent Death Eater. Hermione put her hand on top of Fleur's, squeezing it to comfort her wife. There was no way in hell that the Order's plan for Fleur to be sliced to death by a Death Eater was about to come true. Not if Hermione had anything to do with it.
Fleur turned to her, flashing her a small smile. Hermione leaned in, kissing the blonde softly and quickly without even thinking. Fleur's smile strengthened.
"On to lighter topics," Tonks interrupted with a grin, "And something we can talk freely about… How are things going with you two?"
Fleur rolled her eyes at the way the young auror was leaning across the table grinning at them.
"We are married," Fleur said with a dismissive wave, "What else is there to say?"
Tonks pulled a face.
"Uh, plenty!" Tonks retorted, "Don't think I haven't noticed that you two have gone from almost throttling each other to being all over each other."
"We're doing what we're supposed to be doing," Hermione replied, though she felt the burn of a blush in her cheeks.
"Ahuh…" Tonks drawled smugly, leaning her face on her hands as she looked at the pair, "And that's it?"
Hermione chanced a look at Fleur, and found that the blonde also had a light blush dusting her high cheek bones. It made her stomach flip.
"I…" Hermione tried to begin a response, but trailed off as she couldn't find the words.
Fleur cleared her throat as if she might say something, but also didn't say anything. It was cute how flustered the blonde looked. It sent a pleasant warmth through Hermione.
"You two are too cute," Tonks chuckled with a wide smile.
It seemed like she had given up on prying, as she leaned back again in her seat, reaching for her goblet of wine.
"We're getting along better," Hermione finally managed. Fleur leaned closer to her, so their shoulders bumped. The blonde was smiling broadly.
"I knew it," Tonks smirked, instantly lurching forward in her seat again, "The way you two were looking at each other that night at The Burrow… I knew there was some kind of spark there."
"What about you and Lupin?" Hermione asked, eager to move the conversation topic off herself, "Did you know there was something there from the beginning?"
Tonks laughed heartily.
"Not at all," Tonks said between chuckles, "If anything, it was quite similar to you two. He drove me up the wall. Everything he said and did was absolutely infuriating. As we spent more time together, though, I realised that he was able to wind me up so easily because I was so fixated on him. There was just this underlying tension between us that neither of us understood until we slowed down enough to get to know each other."
"You're kidding," Hermione responded, surprised. She couldn't imagine Lupin having a disagreement with any colleague.
Tonks laughed again, shaking her head.
"I don't know if you've noticed, but Remus and I are almost total opposites. He can be quite reserved and traditional… Me? Not so much," Tonks explained, smiling broadly.
"It's true," Fleur corroborated, "They would derail so many meetings with their bickering."
Hermione laughed at the thought. She topped up their glasses of wine, musing over Tonks' story of finding Lupin.
It was quite similar to her and Fleur, now she thought about it. Clashing dreadfully, winding each other up without even meaning to. An unknown tension spiking at encounters between them.
Fleur was obviously thinking the same thing, as she caught Hermione's eye and smirked.
"Have either of you dated women before?" Tonks asked, zeroing back in on the two women in front of her.
Hermione shook her head.
"No, I didn't realise… I didn't know…" Hermione trailed off, feeling foolish, "It kind of makes sense now, but I hadn't the foggiest that I fancied women this way until I'd gone ahead and signed up for all this."
"I had," Fleur replied, "But only ever briefly. All of my longer prior relationships were with men. Not that those were terribly long relationships either…"
There was a hurt running underneath Fleur's words. She withdrew her hand from Hermione and placed her hands on the table. Slender fingers fiddled with her rings.
"Anyone who let you go is an absolute idiot," Hermione blurted, outraged. She attempted to regain composure with a joking smile, "Even if you are the most high maintenance woman I have met."
Fleur's expression softened and it made Hermione's heart ache that she had comforted the blonde even a little.
Tonks was looking at Fleur sympathetically.
"They do sound like idiots, to be fair," Tonks chimed in, "So, I'm guessing this is the most serious thing for both of you so far?"
"I don't think you can top the seriousness of marriage," Fleur quipped.
"You know what I mean," Tonks laughed.
"Tonks," Hermione sighed, "Surely there are more serious things for us to be talking about right now than our respective love lives."
Tonks, topping up their wines again with an impish smile, met Hermione's gaze.
"Au contraire, my friends," Tonks countered, "We're only young once! We have to live in these moments between all the serious bits."
Hours later, Tonks' words were hanging in Hermione's head as she arrived home with Fleur. She had talked Fleur into teaching her a few wards that they used to cast semi-effective protections around their small cottage. The two of them set about casting the wards for the night before heading inside and preparing themselves for bed.
They made idle small talk as they cleared the kitchen of dishes and headed upstairs. Both tired from a big day, they spoke of surface topics. Of the weather beginning to shift to signal the end of summer. Of the annoying bits of the too-small cottage.
They brushed their teeth together that evening in an easy silence.
They settled in beside each other in bed, pillows propped up, each of them reading one of the survival textbooks from the duffel bag McGonagall had given to Hermione.
Hermione glanced over at Fleur. Her beauty was haunting in the dull light of their reading lamps. Regal cheekbones and a sharp jawline. Full lips and long dark eyelashes that fluttered as she read. She almost seemed too beautiful to be real.
But at the same time, everything about being with Fleur was starting to feel so right. Hermione could no longer imagine sitting in a bed reading alone at night. Of brushing her teeth without Fleur beside her. It was all these oddly ordinary things that were beginning to make her think Fleur was meant to be in her life this way.
"You're staring, Hermione," Fleur noted with a smirk.
"Erm," Hermione was caught, blushing.
Fleur chuckled and shut her book, putting it on her bedside table.
"I can't concentrate when you're looking at me," Fleur admitted. The shy tone in her voice was surprising for the blonde. For years, Hermione had considered her to be too self assured.
Hermione closed her own book and put it aside.
"I do find these topics to be awfully trivial considering the wider situation going on these days…" Hermione began, steeling herself, "But… I think Tonks had a point earlier about making time for the usual moments of life we should be experiencing."
"Oui?"
Fleur didn't seem to know where Hermione was going with this, cocking her head to one side adorably and biting lightly on her full bottom lip.
Hermione let out a breathy, exhilarated laugh.
"I realised I don't really make enough time to tell you in plain terms that… I fancy you like mad," Hermione said, looking firmly down at her own hands as her ears reddened, "I've never fancied anyone like this before, ever. I mean, you're gorgeous, obviously, but it's more than that. There's so many layers to you. I constantly find myself staring at you and wondering how I got so lucky. Or marvelling at how bloody cute you can be. So… I'm saying it now."
Hermione felt a dizzying thrill at sharing her feelings with Fleur like this once again. Perhaps Tonks was right, and there was a benefit of 'living in the moment' and savouring trivialities more often.
Any further introspection was curtailed, as Fleur's lips were on hers. Hermione felt herself melt as the skilled curse breaker pinned her to the bed, kissing her passionately.
And then Fleur withdrew, smiling. She sat back up as if she hadn't just destroyed Hermione's famous brain with something as rudimentary as a kiss. The blonde ran a slender hand through silky, silvery blonde hair.
"I fancy you, too," Fleur replied coyly, "I like trying to work out how your mind works… Which is near impossible, might I say. I like how protective you are of those around you, especially those you care about. I like watching your tendency to overthink clash terribly with your tendency to immediately react. That is very cute."
"I like seeing you make cereal," Hermione chuckled, "It's so silly, I've never appreciated things like this with anyone else. I could watch you read a book for hours."
"I do watch you read a book for hours," Fleur joked, though her eyes crinkled as she smiled. Hermione seldom saw Fleur smile with all of herself. Too often her smiles never reached her eyes.
Hermione's heart ached as she reached for Fleur.
She needed her.
She wanted to hold her, to be held by her.
To exist in this moment, just the two of them, bundled up in a bed in a small cottage bedroom as if there was nobody else in the world and nothing else for them to worry about.
Their lips met again, slower now, as Hermione pulled Fleur to her. She took the lead this time, hands holding Fleur tightly. As if the war would rip Fleur away from her.
Fleur's hands seemed almost frantic as they tugged her singlet off. Hermione, who would usually be the self conscious type, didn't even care as she shrugged herself out of the garment. She was too lost in the moment, tugging at Fleur's nightdress in turn.
Though she had now seen Fleur naked a handful of times, it still stunned Hermione. It was like having Aphrodite herself in the squashy cottage bed with her. She swallowed hard, finding it almost hard to believe.
Then Fleur's hands were cupping at her chest, exploring. Hermione quivered as the part-Veela's hands softly squeezed with appreciation. Breaking the kiss, Hermione could hear the sharp intake of breath from the blonde as her hands continued to roam.
It was an ego rush to witness Fleur Delacour quite plainly amazed to touch her.
Fleur's hands ran over her stomach, back over her breasts, and to feel her biceps. She nuzzled in to Hermione's neck, kissing softly.
"You're so beautiful," Fleur murmured.
Hermione had heard that compliment before, a small handful of times: from Viktor, from an awkward Hufflepuff. But it sounded so different from Fleur's soft lips.
"So sexy," Fleur purred. She nipped Hermione's neck gently before peppering it with more kisses.
Hermione had never been called sexy before in her life.
Nerdy. Boring. Know-it-all. Smart. Genius. But never sexy.
"Gods, Fleur," Hermione groaned. She flipped Fleur onto her back, clambering on top of her. Her hands found their way to Fleur's breasts, marvelling at how the Frenchwoman's nipples stiffened at her touch.
She slipped her leg between Fleur's legs, the same way Fleur had done to her previously. Almost immediately, Fleur ground down on her thigh, gasping. Hermione was stunned to feel the slickness on her thigh, the tell-tale sign of just how much Fleur was enjoying this.
Hermione's own breathing was becoming ragged. They had barely done anything and she was feeling painfully aroused, more than she ever had been. The sensation of skin against skin was electric.
She moved her arms to hold Fleur closer to her, kissing her deeply.
"I don't want to ever lose you," Hermione muttered as they broke for air. It had barely been a whisper. Almost a prayer to whatever gods were out there in the universe.
But it seemed Fleur had heard her.
She reached up and cupped Hermione's face, holding it gently so they could look at each other.
"I don't want to lose you either," Fleur replied. There was such sincerity in her voice that it could have made Hermione cry. But instead, it stoked the fire within her, urging her to hold Fleur tightly.
Their bodies moved together, Hermione pressing Fleur into the mattress. Fleur was grinding up into her with a kind of desperation. The blonde's manicured fingers dug into Hermione's shoulder blades.
"I… Oh Gods… I don't really know what I'm doing," Hermione admitted between pants. Fleur moved a hand to tangle into Hermione's curls, gripping her hair tightly. She looked up at the brunette, eyes dark with want.
"I'll tell you if you do something I don't like," Fleur promised in a low voice, "And I'll tell you what I do like."
Hermione's hips jerked, causing Fleur to moan as Hermione's thigh moved against her. The blonde was momentarily powerless, eyes shut with pleasure.
But then she was taking Hermione's hand in hers, guiding it down to take the place of Hermione's thigh.
Then it was like Hermione had been asleep all along and she had finally woken up. The feelings rushing through her veins were new, but giddy.
Their bodies moved together, sometimes feeling as if they were one person, as Hermione followed Fleur's whimpered instructions, bringing the blonde to ruin beneath her.
And then it was Hermione's turn as the blonde returned the favour with fervour. Hermione found her body moved entirely of its own accord as Fleur's dextrous fingers set to work below the waistband of her boxers.
Her back arched.
A moan escaped her throat, unbidden.
And all along, a tension building within her, ratcheting higher and higher.
Then, as Fleur's body moved against hers, the blonde's soft lips whispering French compliments into her ear, the tension finally broke.
Fleur's voice guided her, patient, gentle, through the waves that overcame her.
Hermione had long chided other students at Hogwarts as they gossiped about sex lives in the common room. It had been trivial, inane. But in this moment, tangled up with Fleur and entirely spent, Hermione finally understood the obsession.
There were no words as Fleur and Hermione softly kissed each other. Fleur flung an arm over Hermione's waist, laying her head to rest on the brunette's chest.
"I've never met anyone that made me feel like they wanted me around," Fleur murmured sleepily, "Not like you do."
Hermione stroked her fingers through the Frenchwoman's silky mane of hair, humming thoughtfully.
"Mm, well I hope you do continue to stay around," Hermione commented, "I don't want to let go of you."
It was tough keeping her usual face of indifference as she walked through Grimmauld Place the next morning. Fleur was usually an expert at hiding any emotions that could expose a weakness.
But it was hard to hide that she had shared an earth shattering evening with Hermione the previous night.
Warm and jovial drinks with Tonks had turned into domestic warmth back at home, which in turn… Had led to Hermione finally sleeping with her.
Fleur had been expecting to feel satiated— as she did whenever she slept with anyone she had desired in the past. But it had been more than that. For those passionate moments where they had clung to each other, Fleur had felt like she was whole. Like Hermione had properly seen her, and she had seen Hermione.
Of course, with her useless communication skills, she had been entirely unequipped to communicate this fact to Hermione in words. Instead, she had tried to project how close she had felt to Hermione by making the brunette a coffee and muesli.
As if Hermione could somehow decipher her feelings in a plate of oats.
Yet, it seemed as if Hermione did understand it. The brunette's hand holds were tighter, her smiles even more warm. She was positively glowing this morning. Even if she didn't understand how Fleur felt entirely, it seemed as if she at least felt similarly.
Hermione squeezed her hand as they walked past a portrait in the hallway. It was an old man attempting to shout abuse at them, but had been subjected to a crude silencing charm by Harry.
The hallways of long dead pureblood fanatics should be the least romantic place on Earth.
But Fleur found herself tugging Hermione by the wrist and kissing the brunette deeply. Hermione made a slight noise of surprise before melting into the kiss.
As they parted, Hermione smiled brightly at her through the shadowy hall.
"Whatever happens," Hermione said softly, "Whatever atrocities the war brings… Promise me, you'll remember this moment right now? Remember us like this?"
"Of course," Fleur smiled.
Hermione's words brought her back to reality as they continued towards the large study that had become a sort of default war room for Harry Potter and his friends. Fleur felt the same prickle at the back of her neck that had bugged her since hearing of the prophecy.
She was in danger, Harry was in danger— and by direct association— Hermione was in danger. It was a war and there were likely to be atrocities.
For a dreadful moment, an image of Cedric Diggory's corpse— face grotesquely greying and twisted in horror—appeared in Fleur's mind. A terrible reminder of the Triwizard Tournament's end and a terrible premonition of what was to come.
And then the moment was gone again and Fleur was walking into the study with Hermione.
"Wotcher," Tonks greeted.
Tonks was sporting long emerald hair and pretty brown eyes today. She was dressed oddly simply for Tonks— a simple linen black dress— but she was sporting colourful sleeves of tattoos.
Beside her, positively beige in comparison, stood a greying Lupin. His face was lined and sombre, a stark contrast to the cosy knitted polo he wore tucked in to some brown trousers. He ran a hand through his tidily combed hair, eyes on the golden ring on the table in front of him.
On the other end of the table was the messy-haired Harry, round glasses looking dreadfully smudged. He didn't look well; his face chalky and his scar standing out more starkly than ever on his forehead.
Ron stood beside him, auburn brows knitted together in concern. One of his large, freckled, dustpan hands was resting on Harry's narrow shoulder. His nose was red and peeling from sunburn, clashing with how serious the rest of his demeanour was.
"Heya Tonks," Hermione greeted, "Hey guys."
Tonks' eyes flitted up quickly, flicking between Hermione and Fleur with alertness.
Fleur inwardly sighed. Tonks might be the clumsiest, silliest witch in existence, but there was a reason she was a fantastic auror. The woman missed nothing.
With a smirk, Tonks returned her eyes to the ring of Gryffindor in front of her and Lupin.
"Tonks filled us in," Harry said with no preamble, "What exactly did you see in the Black Family vault?"
Fleur wondered if Harry had been eating. He looked gaunt in the shadows of the study. The curtains were all pulled, leaving them to rely on dim lamps and the odd stream of light that escaped the dusty velvet covering the windows.
"It was a goblet," Fleur said simply, "I didn't get long to look at it, but it was small and had a badger on it."
"Did it look like this?" Lupin asked, lifting a heavy textbook and turning it to face Fleur. Fleur stepped over to the table to eye it carefully, Hermione quick beside her.
"Oui," Fleur confirmed after observing the image.
"Can I borrow that?" Hermione asked, all but snatching the textbook from Lupin before beginning to eagerly leaf through it.
"I think we'll be needing your curse breaking abilities," Lupin continued without missing a beat, nodding at Fleur and gesturing at the ring, "From a cursory inspection, the ring seems invulnerable to most attempts at destruction."
"It is likely cursed with some mechanism to attack someone aiming to destroy it," Fleur said warily, "I hope nobody has tried to destroy it yet."
"No," Tonks replied, "Especially after what happened to Dumbledore."
Fleur shook her head, clicking her tongue. She didn't understand what had happened to Dumbledore. A legendary wizard such as Dumbledore should have understood the fundamentals of dealing with dark magic and cursed items. She could only assume he had got reckless near the end.
"Can you break the curses now?" Harry interjected loudly.
Fleur paused, eying the Boy Who Lived with a scrutinising gaze. Was this the same recklessness that had possessed Dumbledore when he had shouldered the responsibility for the horcruxes?
"Curse breaking isn't that simple," Fleur tried to explain calmly, "You need to know what curses you are dealing with, how to undo each one, any cross-overs or interactions between the curses, the order to break them in—"
"Yes, but could you do that now?" Harry asked, his voice firmer this time.
"I could start mapping it out," Fleur replied, "But it takes time."
Harry shook his head, cursing under his breath. Fleur shot a look at Hermione, who was deeply immersed in her textbook. She wondered if the brunette had picked up on how Harry seemed to be struggling under the weight of his obligations.
It worried Fleur.
They all depended on Harry. If he faltered now, if he was too reckless, it could cost the lives of any one of them— if not all.
"It's all right, mate," Ron said, squeezing his giant paw of a hand on Harry's shoulder, "We still have the others to find in the meantime."
"Yeah, way to remind me that there's even more of them out there— that we aren't even close to finding. We don't even know what the Ravenclaw one could be!" Harry snapped, "And in the meantime—"
Harry threw a newspaper savagely on the table.
It wasn't any publication Fleur was familiar with, but from the looks of the static images, it was a Muggle paper. The front page detailed a mysterious mass death that had occurred the previous night. An entire small village had been wiped out. Though some houses had been burnt down, the majority of the deceased appeared to have no medical reason for their death, according to the Muggle reporters.
"Death Eaters?" Fleur queried, her face paling at the bleak image of the village staring up at them. A village that was now well and truly a ghost town.
"No doubt about it," Harry replied, "And their lives are on our hands, my hands. Every day we're stalled is another day Voldemort gets stronger and more people suffer."
"We can't rush things like this," Lupin interjected, "We can't just throw any old spell at a cursed object and expect to walk away unharmed. We can't just barge in to a bank as heavily guarded as Gringotts without planning."
"We can't just plan forever," Harry shot back, surprising the group. Harry had always held a high respect for Remus Lupin. "At some point we actually have to act!"
"I told you, in the next day or two we can move location," Lupin responded calmly, "Once we move to a secluded place, we can start moving faster. We have too many eyes on us at the moment."
"I can work as fast as I can on the curse breaking," Fleur interrupted, hoping to quell the bubbling temper of Harry. It seemed to work, as he was thrown off beat by Fleur's interruption.
"Erm, thanks, Fleur," Harry mumbled, "I really appreciate it… I didn't mean to… You know…"
"It is fine," Fleur replied dismissively with a wave of her hand, "Now if I could borrow some parchment, a quill and some ink, I can get started."
An uneasy quiet settled over the room. Fleur studied the ring in front of her carefully, listing out possible curses. She gently tried a few investigatory spells on it, with limited success, recording her results.
Curse breaking was a science. It was exact, but there was often a lot of trial and error before experiencing a breakthrough.
Still, with each result recorded on her parchment, she knew she was getting closer.
The others were rifling through various records regarding Hogwarts— from Tom Riddle's time there and about the founders.
A large stack of books had formed on the table they sat around.
Fleur stretched in her chair, leaning back until her back popped satisfyingly. She looked across the table at Hermione.
Hermione was scrawling some comments on a parchment with one hand, her other hand holding a large tome open. Her long fingers were already ink stained, showing the hours she had put into noting important facts.
A beam of sun was peeking through the curtains and lighting up the different hues of brown in Hermione's curly hair. The sight brought a slight smile to Fleur's face. Hermione seemed so oblivious to how beautiful she was.
Fleur's eyes tracked Hermione's face, fixed with concentration, her warm brown eyes scanning the pages in front of her. Her tanned and toned arms were flexing slightly as she shifted in her seat, nicely exposed in the simple tee shirt she wore. Fleur's gaze lingered on them a little too long, and her mind began to wander to the previous night and how it had felt to have Hermione hold her so tightly. How it felt having Hermione inside her…
Further, likely more filthy, thoughts were banished by Tonks clearing her throat and stretching in the seat beside her.
"Lordy, I am tired," Tonks complained, "I'd hoped to have a good sleep in this morning, but of course McGonagall had to swing by and wake us up."
"It wasn't that bad," Lupin replied with a lopsided smile, "We have coffee."
Hermione glanced up, suddenly alert.
"What did she visit you about?" Hermione asked, curious.
"The usual," Tonks replied in a casual tone, "Checking in, brief chat. Wanted to know if we had any updates for her."
"Any updates?" Hermione asked, narrowing her eyes.
"I mean, a pretty big part of our work for the Order is gathering information," Tonks shrugged off, "Not that unusual for her to ask."
"Yes, but a little concerning after she arrived here unannounced and noticed that Harry and Ron had packed things away from the kitchen," Hermione noted.
"She knows that they'll be heading out on trips to find horcruxes. It isn't so strange to pack up some items for that kind of trip," Tonks said, relaxed, "I'm sure it's nothing."
"Maybe," Hermione said with a frown.
"We've been discreet with our planning," Lupin assured Hermione, "There's no way she could possibly know we're planning on going off the grid."
"You're probably right," Hermione said, though she looked unconvinced.
By mid afternoon, the group were feeling burned out. Tonks and Lupin departed with the intention of enjoying a late lunch in the city. Harry and Ron decided they would retire to a sitting room to play some wizarding chess.
Hermione was looking forward to spending some more time with Fleur. She was enjoying the excuse of being loved up with Fleur under the guise of completing the visa task for the Order.
"Should we go out for a bite to eat?" Hermione suggested to Fleur, shouldering a satchel.
"I was thinking we could head back to our place," Fleur suggested with a sly grin.
Hermione, blushing, found herself grinning broadly back.
"Lead the way, my wife," Hermione responded.
They had barely stepped out of the Floo and onto the threadbare rug when Hermione realised something was wrong.
They weren't alone.
Gertrude Umbridge was standing in their cottage, flanked on either side by a large dark-robed security wizard from the Ministry's immigration department.
"What are you doing here?" Fleur asked coldly. Hermione could feel it in the air, this was different to other encounters with Umbridge.
"We've received a tip-off regarding your marriage," Gertrude informed them with a smug smile. She looked like a toad that had caught a particularly juicy fly. "From a very credible source. Hermione Granger, you're under arrest under the Immigration Act of 1689 for assisting a creature or part-creature in obtaining a visa through deception. Fleur Delacour, you're being detained under the Dangerous Creatures Safety Act 1623, for attempting to enter the territory via deceptive means, for failing to obtain a visa in a timely manner, and for fraud."
"This is ridiculous," Hermione replied, though she had already stepped forward and slightly in front of Fleur, in a vain attempt to protect her from what was beginning to unfold, "Who submitted this so called tip-off?"
"It's a protected disclosure under the Immigration Act," Umbridge replied with a sickly sweet tone, "I can explain exactly why we can't tell you once you're in custody."
Umbridge nodded at the two men beside her, who instantly shot off disarming spells. Hermione watched her and Fleer's wands arc out of their hands in horror.
One of the men instantly pushed Hermione out of the way, grasping Fleur roughly. Hermione tried to stop him, but the other man was grabbing her roughly by the arms.
"Stay still," the man instructed her, "Do not resist!"
Hermione, restrained, watched over his shoulder as his colleague slammed Fleur into a wall with far too much force. Hermione could hear Fleur's head collide with a sickening thud.
"He's being too rough!" Hermione objected.
"There is no such thing as 'too rough' when it comes to dangerous creatures," Umbridge called out in a sing-song over the chaos, "Not in the eyes of the law."
Fleur seemed dazed as the man wrenched her arms behind her back and cuffed her hands tightly behind her back with steel cuffs.
"Maybe we should put one of those black bags over her head," Umbridge suggested, "You never know with Veela."
The man holding Hermione seemed momentarily distracted as he watched Umbridge instructing his colleague. Taking the opening, Hermione kneed the man as hard as she could in the crotch.
"Merlin!" The man yelped, instantly releasing Hermione.
Quick as she could, Hermione snatched his wand, aiming at the man holding Fleur.
"Stupefy!" Hermione shouted.
She threw herself across the room almost as soon as the words had left her mouth, dodging a spell beam that had flashed her way from Umbridge herself.
Practice with Death Eaters had evidently aided Hermione's reflexes, as it was all too easy to dodge Umbridge's spells. Umbridge was no dueller.
"Stupefy!" Hermione hit Umbridge on her first try, square in the chest. Hermione only had an instant to satisfyingly watch Umbridge's face go slack before she turned on the final Ministry lackey, who had dragged himself to his feet, one hand nursing his groin, one hand outstretched as he lurched towards her.
"Stupefy!"
The man fell to the floor, instantly knocked out.
Satisfied that they were momentarily safe, Hermione ran to Fleur, muttering a quick spell to cut the cuffs from the blonde's hands.
"Hermione, that was amazing," Fleur gasped, quickly embracing the brunette.
"More like lucky," Hermione shot back, "Now— Quick— We have to grab everything we need from here and leave— Now."
"Where will we go?" Fleur asked, already seeking out their discarded wands in the chaos of the room. There were overturned side tables and chairs from the scuffle with the Ministry officials.
"Grimmauld Place for now," Hermione replied quickly, double checking that all the Ministry officials were, in fact, out cold, "At least these guys won't be able to follow us there. We'll send urgent word to Lupin and then try to get out of Grimmauld Place before the Order cotton on to what has happened and try to head us off… I can only imagine it was them who gave the tip-off."
"Why?" Fleur asked, frowning, "They need my visa to succeed."
"McGonagall knows we're up to something," Hermione replied, "I just know it. I bet she figured it was safer having us both in custody to ensure she knew exactly where we were."
"Well, whoever it was will figure out what's happened soon enough," Fleur noted, before looking gravely at the passed out officials, "As well as the authorities. We need to get out of here before enough time has passed that it's suspicious they haven't returned to the office."
With one last glance around what they had momentarily enjoyed as their marital home, the two women set to packing as fast as they could.