DEFYING GRAVITY
FD/HG
A/N: It's been a long time since I last wrote anything like fiction. My apologies if I am a bit rusty. I would be really grateful for any suggestions or comments especially constructive criticism.
Read it. Praise it. Flame it. Burn it.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything, except for the plot (^_^) because if I did, Fleur and Hermione will end up with a happily ever after.
FIRST HALF: HERMIONE
"Because I'm waiting for you
Waiting for this dream to come true
Just to be with you
And if I die, remember this line
I'm always here guarding your life."
Synesthesia by Mayonnaise
One
This is not good, she thought to herself frantically.
An ominous thud sounded in the near distance, she tried to peer through the near darkness to try to get a better look of the shadows slightly up ahead of her. She momentarily noted the change in atmosphere and was thankful that she was far enough from the two figures, one slumped against the wall and was struggling to get up from his fallen position and the other advancing like a deadly predator who had just successfully captured it's prey, which in her opinion it just did. She immediately felt sorry for the man that got the full blast of it.
This is not good, she thought again. Remembering she was a witch, she scrambled on her hands and knees feeling the ground for her fallen wand. Her wand got knocked off from her when she was unexpectedly hit by a Disarming spell, followed immediately by a Stunning spell which she avoided just barely. Her guard was down at the time, and she was not expecting that the situation would get out of hand, sure she had anticipated something of the sort but not like this. She finally felt the familiar smooth handle of her wand and breathe a sigh of relief.
"Lumos," she muttered and the surrounding area was suddenly bathed in the soft glow from her wand. She quickly noted her surroundings. She was crouching near the end of a long, narrow back alley, just behind the muggle pub where they met their informant. The foul smell of the garbage dump located just two feet behind her assaulted her nostrils, as well as the heaps of trash that where scattered here and there. She can hear the scurrying of mice feet and their squeaking noises echoing in a near distance. The cobbled street beneath her was damp from that morning's rain and a busted alley lamp was not far to her right. From what she can make out from the dim light of her wand, there were also graffiti decorating both sides of the alley walls. She stood up slowly, suddenly aware of the pain in her left knee and also noticing that her left palm was bleeding. She quickly shone her wand light on her left palm and noticed a piece of broken glass protruding from her soft skin.
She gritted her teeth and pulled the offending piece of glass from her palm. She quickly conjured a piece of cloth, long enough to wrap her hand around with and thick enough to stem the bleeding as well. With that done, she mustered her faculties and walked or rather limped the short distance towards the two figures, both, seemingly locked in a silent battle of wills, one dominating and the other failing miserably.
She drew a sharp intake of breath as she neared the vicinity of the two figures. She could still feel the traces of the veela magic that Fleur let out just mere moments ago. It was still laying thick in the air, suffocating Hermione, in fact, if this was not a serious enough situation that she find herself in, she would most definitely stick out her tongue and try to taste it in the air.
Hermione nearly lost her balance when Fleur let out another blast of that damned veela magic of hers. Bloody hell, she thought fiercely, Fleur is going all out. This is getting worse.
"Enough! Let him go," Hermione said. She surprised herself to hear her voice sounding strong and steady after receiving a full blast of the second veela magic.
Fleur was just standing there oblivious to the presence of the younger witch. Her full attention focused on the man, who awhile ago was just an informer. It all happened so fast, much too fast for Hermione's liking. One moment the three of them were talking civilly and the next, something strange took over the man, his calm eyes, which Hermione noted the first they met had now a wild look in them. It felt like something or someone flicked a switch inside the man's head and the next thing Hermione knew, Fleur was pushing her out of her chair. Hermione made a mental note to clear up the mess inside the pub before they leave.
If Fleur had heard her, the French witch did not acknowledge it.
"Fleur," Hermione said, adding a tone of emphasis when she called out the French woman's name.
A sadistic grin was on Fleur's lips, when she turned her head to face Hermione; or rather, that was what it looked like from the dim light of Hermione's wand. Bloody hell, Hermione cursed inwardly again. Fleur had veela'd herself out; Fleur's piercing cerulean blue eyes had started to dilate replacing the blue color to something darker than black.
"I want him," Fleur hissed softly.
"Why? We already got what we wanted from him and we still have that mess to clean up."
Instead of answering Hermione, Fleur turned her attention back to the fallen man. It happened in a blink of an eye, one second Fleur was standing just two feet away from the man and the next she was holding him by his throat. Long slender fingers gripping tightly around the man's neck squeezing the life out of him.
"Fleur! Let him go!"
"I said I want him."
"Fine! But there's no point in killing him."
Fleur looked at her as if she had just lost her mind. Hermione was now starting to get irritated with the French witch. They were spending too much time here, it was only supposed to be a brief meeting with their informant. Hermione's ire was building more by the minute when she realized that whatever contingencies happened tonight, it was sure to be her fault once she gave a fully detailed report to their head of department.
"He hurt you, and that is reason enough." Fleur then turned her attention back to the man whose facial colour was getting more and more purplish the longer Fleur held on.
"Have you gone mental? That is not reason enough!"
"It is reason enough for me."
"Fleur, don't."
"But I want him," Fleur said yet again ignoring Hermione.
Finally, having had enough of this, Hermione pointed her wand in the direction of their informant. "Obliviate!" Too strong, Hermione thought. Hermione observed the man going limped in Fleur's gripped. At least I saved his life.
Hermione was about to assess the situation, when she felt herself falling to the ground. Before she could fight it off, Hermione could feel her wand rolling off just out of reach from her hand. She was stretching out her fingers for her wand, when her wand arm was being wrenched away from her side. Fleur had her by her wrist and the older woman positioned her arm just above her head, well away from her fallen wand. This is the second time tonight I lost hold of my wand. Bloody hell! Hermione thought angrily. Hermione was now struggling against the weight just on top of her, it also didn't help that Fleur, had settled herself just on top of her diaphragm, making it a little harder to breathe.
"Fleur! Get o—" she said breathlessly, all the while trying to push the older woman with her injured hand. She was now squirming violently underneath the French witch and was about to slap Fleur, with her left hand when the older witch, grabbed her by her left wrist, and pinned her arm just above her head joining her other arm.
Fleur was holding both Hermione's arms with just one hand. Hermione's temper now flared up, matching her helplessness in the situation and only just realizing that Fleur was this strong when she had veela'd herself out. Fleur was staring at her, with an expression that made Hermione's skin tingle all over. The veela magic was still thick in the air, and it was making her plight all the worse, making it even more harder to breathe. They were in a very compromising position, one of which Hermione desperately wanted out of, even if she summoned all her magical knowledge, nothing will come up that will help her get one angry veela off of her. She squeezed her eyes shut, and forced her body to relax, she calmed her mind and waited for what Fleur would do next.
She felt Fleur shift her position, making Hermione open her eyes, only to find that their faces were only inches apart. She quickly turned her face to her left side, just in time to feel Fleur's hot breath on her neck, which was quickly trailing up to her ears. She then felt Fleur's lips brushing softly on her earlobes and a finger was trailing the left side of her face, demanding for her to turn head so that she could look into the eyes of her attacker. Hermione could feel electricity coursing through her body, making her feel hot and cold at the same time. And if she were standing, she knew that her knees would buckle over from the intensity that she was feeling right at this moment. But, frankly this was not the time and place nor the situation to think about that. She was in trouble and she knew it, it would only be a matter of time, before she succumbs to that veela thrall, all the while thinking that she was lucky to withstand the veela magic earlier and did not gave in to the power that she knew would reduced her to something like a lovesick idiot.
She finally relented, and gave in to the demand of her attacker. She turned her head to face Fleur, and as she did so, she knew that her temper was at its boiling point. Hermione could see that Fleur's eyes had turned completely black and her irises looked like what Hermione can compare to the irises of a vulture. The finger that was earlier tracing her face had now extended to what look like the talons of a hawk. Fleur had completely veela'd herself out.
It was now really difficult for Hermione to breathe, but she was also thankful at the same time, that Fleur was only a part veela and thus she can't transform to the bird-like creature her kind becomes, which in her opinion would be closed to reason if she tried to talk her way out of the precarious position she finds herself in. For that is the only thing she can think of, reason her way to get herself out, to reach out to Fleur, her friend and not the creature, the veela that was living inside of her. Hermione closed her eyes for a couple of seconds, making sure that she had complete control of her emotions. If there is one thing she knew for certain about veelas, they tend to be overly emotional creatures, they can feel every little thing that you're feeling with just a shift in the atmosphere. And right now Hermione was throwing out her emotions like garbage in the air; anger, irritation, pain, panic, desire, empowering Fleur even more.
"Stop," Hermione finally croaked out in a whisper. She paused making sure that her emotions were steady enough.
"But I like it like this," Fleur purred in her ear. Hermione could tell that the words itself were laced with desire. She felt Fleur's hot and wet tongue trailed the side of her face, tasting her, and Hermione gave an involuntary shiver, which she was sure was not lost on Fleur.
When Hermione opened her eyes, Fleur had already readjusted her position, giving Hermione a chance to shift her own body so that she could breathe a little easier. Merlin, get me out of this. I hope Fleur will listen to me, she silently prayed.
"Get off me," she said quietly, forcing an indifferent tone on her voice.
"No." Fleur answered all the while trailing her finger slowly up and down on Hermione's cheek.
"Fleur, you promised." There was a note of finality, with the way Hermione said those words, hoping against hope that it would reach Fleur.
She finally felt Fleur, loosening her grip upon her wrists followed by Fleur's weight being lifted off of her. Hermione then breathe a sigh of relief, it was like breathing fresh air. The veela magic which was so thick in the air was now receding. Hermione took mouthfuls of air for her oxygen depraved lungs and was breathing heavily when she rolled herself to the side. She used her uninjured hand to push herself off the ground and sat up. Ultimately she felt her breathing return to normal, she retrieved her wand, and slowly stood up, swaying a little. Fleur was standing just an arms length away from her, Hermione knew that Fleur would catch her if ever she falls down, but at the same time not risking coming too near. Hermione knew that Fleur can sense that she was containing her temper, and one couldn't really blame Hermione for the anger that was threatening to spill over.
She then turned her head into Fleur's direction and gave herself a moment to study the older witch. Fleur's eyes had now return back to their original color. Her expression unreadable, and at that point in time, Hermione didn't really care whatever the French witch was feeling at the moment. Though the veela magic had now receded, it was now being permeated by the thick tension between them. Hermione took another deep breath, Merlin she just wanted to go home and forget the whole night, but that is just wishful thinking.
"There you are," Hermione said softly. "I see you." With that said, she attempted to put in a little weight to her injured knee only to find herself almost toppling over until a hand reached out to steady her. Hermione would have pushed Fleur out of the way if she did not need that support, but she did.
"Hermione," Fleur began.
"Don't," Hermione interrupted. "Just don't."
"I'm—"
"We still need to clean this mess up. I'll take care of him," Hermione jerked her head to their informant's unmoving form, "and you take care of the people inside the pub."
"At least, let me take a look at your hand," there was a soft pleading note in Fleur's voice. She tried to take Hermione's hand, but the younger witch tugged her hand violently away.
"Stay away from me."
Fleur stepped back away from Hermione relenting to the younger witch's request. "Hermione," Fleur attempted again.
"I said, don't alright?" Hermione was now fighting to control the edge in her voice. "Don't say that you're sorry, you've said that before."
"I can't control this! I am trying my best, but I just can't!" Hermione could feel that Fleur was starting to get angry as well, apparently she was affecting the older woman with her own temper.
Hermione swallowed hard, calming her own anger.
"I know." And with that she left the older woman, standing there and walked, or rather limped towards the unconscious man. In passing, Hermione noticed once again the unreadable expression on Fleur's face. She gave an inward sigh, This is definitely not good.
xxxXXXxxx
Hermione stood stock still after apparating back into the Burrow. She noticed that a light was still burning in the kitchen, who could be awake at this time of night? Hermione was fervently hoping that it wasn't the French witch who had caused her ire earlier in the evening. But then again, knowing Fleur, the older woman would try to make amends for her mistake earlier, and Hermione couldn't fault Fleur for that. It was one of the things that Hermione liked about Fleur, if she made a mistake, she would apologize for that, but if she knew she was right, Fleur would stood her ground firmly, no matter what the cost is. In a way, they were both alike, stubborn and loyal to a fault.
Hermione now made her way to the back door of the house, she wasn't limping any more, and her hand was not throbbing painfully when she apparated herself to St. Mungos, but there's nothing she could do with the filth on her clothes. Hermione never really mastered most of the vanity charms, she only charmed her clothes, to get rid of the garbage like smell that clung onto them and cleaned herself up just enough to be presentable when she entered St. Mungos. Hermione hated to admit it, but the only one who is living in the Burrow at the moment, who is adept at Healing magic, is Fleur, and she proudly refused the offered help earlier, thus she was late in getting back home.
The back door creaked when she opened it. She was now in the kitchen and the delicious aroma of coffee was wafting in the atmosphere. Merlin knows, she had a rough night. A mug of coffee with a shot of firewhiskey in it would soothe her frayed nerves.
"Lover's tiff?" A voice said, startling Hermione.
"Bill?" she asked, surprise evident in her voice when she spotted the older man sitting by the kitchen table with a mug of coffee in front of him.
"Where you expecting somebody else, Hermione?" The older man answered without even looking up from the Evening Prophet he was reading, though Hermione could hear the faint trace of a smile in his voice.
If Hermione was flustered by this, she did not show it. Instead, she walked towards the kitchen table, pulled out the chair opposite Bill and sat down on it tiredly. She could see Bill raised an eyebrow at this, he then took out his wand and made a complicated gesture with it. A mug of coffee was now placed in front of Hermione. Hermione took a deep breath of the strong aroma before taking the mug in both of her hands and sipped it carefully.
"Firewhiskey," she muttered appreciatively. "How did you know, Bill?"
"I know my women," he chuckled softly.
"You're women?" she repeated back.
"Love, there are only four women in my life. My mother, my ex-wife who also happens to be my best friend and my two baby sisters." He said.
Hermione gave an involuntary smile at the comment and then took another sip of her steaming mug of coffee. She let the warmth washed over her first, before wiping the smile off her face. When she looked up, she found Bill eyeing her with curiosity. She placed the mug in front of her gently and raised a questioning eyebrow to Bill. "What do you mean by lover's tiff? Are you making fun?" She said, in a voice that implied that she wasn't in the mood for any kind of teasing.
"Ah, it just felt like a lover's tiff." He said, rustling the evening paper he was reading, before folding it and placing it aside. He took a sip from his cup, waiting for what Hermione would say next.
"Felt like? I don't understand. You're speaking in riddles and my head is just too exhausted to think right now."
"It was a good thing that I was still in my room, when she came home barging in. I could tell that she was in a really bad mood, because of the sudden change in my mood."
Hermione made a face. "Bill, stop. As much as I look up to you as my older brother, I don't want to hear about this."
"You may not want to, but you need to. It would have caused mayhem in the house, if everybody was here, with all that veela thrall she was letting out."
"And you think it was my fault?" Hermione countered, a bit defensive about Bill's statement.
"I did not say that."
"But you're implying that I had something to do with that?" Hermione was now starting to get upset. "It's offensive, Bill and to even compare it to something like a lover's tiff, it's annoying and irritating. You have no idea, what it's like to be with her when she does that thing."
Bill just chuckled softly and held out his hand in a gesture of surrender. "You're talking to the right person then. I was married to her."
Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but changed her mind. Instead, she stood up from her chair and began pacing back and forth in the small kitchen. She stopped in front of the older man and gave him a piercing look. "She veela'd out on me." And then she went back to her pacing, hoping to get the building irritation out of her system. "She veela'd out on me, Bill! Ugh!" She said again, unable to hold her irritation back, her voice also rising a bit louder to more than she would have liked. Hermione did not care if Fleur heard her. She stopped midway in her pacing and faced the older man again. "Do you have any idea at all, how it feels whenever she does that? It's infuriating, that's what it is! My luck could've run out at any moment tonight, and I don't even want to think what would happen if it does."
"For an Unspeakable, you sure do have a lot to say," Bill answered softly, he had a look of pondering on his face.
She went back to the table and grabbed her mug. She took a long sip from her coffee which had somewhat cooled down, although coffee was not the best remedy to calm her nerves, the firewhiskey in it was doing the job for her. She went over to the sink and poured the remaining contents of her mug in it. "How did you do it, Bill?"
"Did what?" Came the soft reply.
"I don't mean to pry, but you were married to her, surely, there were moments in your marriage that this happens. How did you do it? What do you do, whenever, she, you know veela out? She has a temper from what I know of her."
Bill chuckled. "She does have a temper, very much like what you're doing now."
"Bill.." Hermione turned around to face the older man and leaned back on the sink.
"I know, sorry. To answer you're question, Hermione, nothing. I do nothing whenever she, how you say it, veela out, or rather I can't do anything about it. I am completely under her spell."
A look of disbelief crossed Hermione's soft features. "You're serious, aren't you?"
Bill just shrugged. He then stood up from his chair and began clearing up the large wooden kitchen table.
"That stupid git," Hermione hissed out loud.
Bill stopped what he was doing and looked at Hermione. "Are we talking about someone else now?"
"Malfoy, he'll always be a git."
"Malfoy, but isn't he your head of department? From what the three of you told me, hasn't he turned over a new leaf and all that?"
"Yes, he did, but that doesn't mean, that he'll stop being a git. He will always be a git to me."
"A git, huh? Am I missing something, 'Mione?" He said, then resumed what he was doing again.
"Malfoy will always be Malfoy, Bill," Hermione answered watching the older man. "He's just getting back at me for turning him down, a mudblood of all people."
"Malfoy asked you out?" There was a note of surprise in Bill's voice and then he began to chuckle loudly.
"I don't see what's so funny, Bill. You should ask Ron, he was there when this happened."
"I'll take your word for it, 'Mione." He was surveying the kitchen table, and nodded to himself, seemingly satisfied with the clean up job that he did. "At least, give him some credit, he knows what he's doing." And with that he made his way to the back door.
"Where are you off to, anyway?" Hermione asked stopping Bill in his tracks.
"Work," he answered. "The curse I'm currently trying to break can only be broken at a specific time in the night. I have to be off, else I might miss it."
Hermione just nodded. "Goodnight then, Bill." She then proceeded towards the other room, but paused when she heard Bill.
"About Fleur, you should forgive her. I'm sure she didn't mean to hurt you and she already hates herself enough as it is, I'd of a mind to think she would never ever mean to hurt you. She just can't help it. It's who she is."
Hermione just sighed in answer. "I know," she whispered. If Bill, heard her, Hermione wasn't sure, the last she heard was a loud crack in the night as she made her way upstairs.
xxxXXXxxx
After tossing and turning for the better part of an hour, Hermione admitted reluctantly that she would be unable to fall asleep, not with her head all full. She sighed for the umpteenth time that night, noting how she was doing more often than not for the last eight months, if she were to be exact it started when she was partnered up with Fleur. What the hell was Malfoy thinking? Sure, she and Fleur were acquaintances before that, but she wasn't really all that psyched about working together with the French witch. In a way, she already knew that it was a bad idea as soon as Malfoy made his decision. It wasn't because Hermione still dislikes the French witch, it was the opposite, in fact she likes Fleur enough to have a sort of friendship with the older woman, but it's that all of Hermione's instincts were telling her to stay as far away as she can and it baffled Hermione. If it was one thing that Hermione couldn't stay away from, it was to find an answer to a question. And it was a question that Hermione felt she needed the answer to, Fleur is a brilliant witch, Hermione knew that, extremely talented and smart, she also has a far more diverse experience in terms of advanced magic, as well as fully versed in the different branches of magic, not just defense unlike herself. It's true that Hermione would benefit more, but really, what she did not sign up for was the extra stuff. When did it started happening? She thought wryly. In the pit of her stomach, Hermione had an idea when, but she just couldn't remember. Another sigh, I have to apologize, it's the right thing to do. Or maybe I should do it tomorrow, before I go to work.
She closed her eyes, silently praying for sleep to take her over. Upon doing so, memories of that night came flooding in. Hermione could still feel the traces of Fleur's lingering touch on her cheek, the heat from Fleur's warm breath on her ear, and that tongue of hers as she tasted Hermione's heated skin. She should feel violated, her rational mind was telling her so, but another part of her, the one side of herself that people rarely see, was screaming at her to like it, to let it happen again. Bloody hell, she cursed. Her eyes flew open suddenly and noticed that she was panting. What happened? Blimey! You're never going to let me fall asleep are you?
Having made up her mind, she finally got out of bed and out the door. A few minutes later, having descended the rickety flight of stairs to the second floor, she found herself staring at the closed door of Fleur's bedroom. She wasn't even sure if the occupant was still awake and it's probably stupid of her to be standing outside getting all cold. In her haste, she forgot to put on her robe, not even bothering to cover herself up which was only clad in skimpy black boxer shorts and a white razor back top. Just knock on the door, will you? If she doesn't answer, you can talk to her tomorrow, at least you tried tonight. Hermione involuntarily shivered before raising her fist and knocking softly on the door. She counted twenty seconds in her head, but there was no answer.
"Right," she muttered quietly and then retraced her steps back to her bedroom. She was about to take the first step up the stairs when she heard her name called out.
"Hermione?"
Hermione spun around in surprise. Shite, I thought she was asleep. "Were you sleeping? I didn't mean to have bothered you," she answered quietly, wondering why she was even bothering to keep her tone of voice low when she knew that the two of them were the only occupants of the house.
"Non, I thought I was mishearing things," she made a gesture with her hand, "Come in, it's a little cold out here."
Hermione nodded and made her way into Fleur's bedroom. She paused just a little ways from the door wondering if she should moved further in when dim lights illuminated the room. There was a soft click from behind her, and even though Hermione couldn't see Fleur, she knew or rather felt that the older witch was staring at her intensely. I should've waited until morning.
Fleur moved silently from behind her, after a few more moments of this awkward silence she gestured for Hermione to sit on the bed.
Hermione stared at the bed, it was unkempt as if someone had been tossing and turning on it as well. Images of her lying pinned on the ground popped in her mind. Bloody hell, she thought. A look of uncertainty crossed her face and all too sudden she began to feel a bit nervous. I should have waited. Nevertheless, she moved her body and perched on the edge of Fleur's bed. When she looked at Fleur, Fleur's eyes were a little darker than their normal blue colored ones. You can feel it, can you?
Fleur was leaning against her drawers opposite Hermione. She was still watching Hermione when the younger witch caught her eyes.
Hermione wondered what Fleur could have been thinking. But she dismissed that thought immediately. She just then exhaled loudly as if steeling herself from what she was about to do. "I'm sorry."
Fleur cocked her head. She then smiled, and Hermione had to admit, that whenever she sees Fleur smiles, Hermione couldn't help thinking that it was the most beautiful smile she had ever seen.
"Come again, mademoiselle. I did not think I heard you correctly," Fleur said with a playful tone on her voice.
A horrified look came across Hermione's delicate features. "Please don't make me say it again," she muttered.
Fleur just shook her head, but the smile was still on her lips, teasing Hermione to say it again.
"Fine." Hermione said crossly. "I'm sorry I overreacted. I hope we're still friends," the latter part Hermione seemed to whisper.
"We never stopped." At that Fleur crossed the room and gave the younger girl a hug. "You have a wonderful scent," Fleur murmured. As soon as Fleur said those words, Hermione began to fidget, feeling all too uncomfortable and it wasn't from what Fleur had said either, the older witch withdrew from her. Fleur then crouched down in front of the younger witch and took Hermione's injured hand into her own. She was holding it palm up, and was tracing a finger gently in the now healing pink scar.
"We should be getting some sleep," Hermione finally said. "There's hell to pay for in the morning."
Fleur looked up and saw the resigned look in Hermione. "If you're worrying about Monsieur Malfoy, I will speak to him, I'll take full responsibility."
"No, it's alright. I got us into that mess." Hermione pulled her hand from Fleur's and then stood up. She made her way to the door and paused, an idea just popped into her head. She turned around to face Fleur, who was now just standing up from her crouched position. "Fleur?"
"Hmm?"
"What happened tonight, it was partly my fault as well, but you do have to admit that you overreacted like I did."
"From what I said earlier, he hurt you and I'm not going to apologize for wanting to hurt him back."
"Right," Hermione answered. "About that, I'm not all too familiar with the veela culture. It would really help a lot in our working relationship if you could give me a set of rules. I seem to be triggering your veela instincts, a lot lately and—"
"I understand," Fleur cut her off a resigned look on the French witch's features. "It is late."
Hermione nodded. "Sleep well, Fleur." With that she let herself out of the room and closed the door behind her. She stood there for a few minutes, her hand still on the doorknob. She sighed again, Why do I have this strange feeling at the pit of my stomach? Another sigh, and then she made her way back to her bedroom, hoping that when she lays down on her bed, sleep would finally take her over.