DEFYING GRAVITY

FD/HG

A/N: Thanks goes to all those who took their time to read and review, and to those who of you who are lurking in the shadows, thanks for the favorites and alerts.

It was fun rewriting this chapter. (^_^)

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.

Three

"Do you know how veelas are born?"

"I suppose, just like wizards and witches, you take a mate, fall in love maybe, and then have children."

"For half-veelas and part-veelas, yes, that is how you do it, but for pure blooded veelas, it's a different matter entirely."

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows together, for some unknown reason today, she had been relieving a part of that summer. A recollection that felt more like a dream for the most part. It's like it happened, but really didn't happen, since she couldn't go well past that point as hard as she tried to. It's been two weeks into her sanction, but in truth it feels more like a punishment, on the other hand, if Hermione would've looked back, nothing out of the ordinary had happened since then. It was a full two weeks of bliss, no one had veela'd out, and for the first time in a long time, she didn't feel like as if her emotions were being constantly pulled apart, except for the part that she feels more and more fatigued everyday, like she was coming down with a sort of sickness that she has no idea of what could be the cause. Even so, it was still a welcome change, though she hated to admit giving credit to Malfoy for grounding her. It was what she needed, no, it was what she and Fleur needed.

The two women had settled into somewhat of a routine since their last serious conversation in the Great Library. It's as if, both had come to a silent agreement to not further explore or even give any more meaning to what was already laid bare before them. It's simple really, Hermione just couldn't shake the feeling of foreboding, whenever her thoughts would wander to the kind of relationship, she and Fleur have. Their friendship, it didn't happen with the way it happened with her, Ron and Harry. It didn't even happen after Bill and Fleur nursed them back to health, although it was the first time Hermione had seen Fleur veela'd out. It wasn't desire that was coating the air then, rather a murderous intent, as to what could have caused it, Hermione never wanted to know or it's that she somehow knew, but just never accepted the reasoning behind it. It was the first time, she had ever seen Bill weak. It shook her entire system when she saw it, and it wasn't just Bill, everybody, even the goblin Griphook was affected. Of course, she never told anyone about it, because from what Hermione knew of veelas, they each affect a person differently and also she conveniently forgot about the whole thing, since they were in the middle of a war. She only remembered it, when she had that dream two nights before. Maybe that dream, was the catalyst as to why she was relieving that particular summer night, the one that happened or felt like didn't happen.

It was exactly three summers ago, just a year after the war. There was a grand memorial service, at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy to commemorate the wizards and witches who died during the Battle of Hogwarts. Hermione remembered this, because after being there for a moment, she, Harry and Ron decided to leave the ceremony. They soon found themselves apparating towards Shell Cottage. As to why they chose the place, it was because the people who mattered to them were buried there, the garden which was originally Dobby's grave has now become a cemetery. The people who they cared about rests there, Fred, Lupin and Tonks, Dobby and a memorial of Harry's parents, James and Lily and also Harry's godfather, Sirius. Even Snape's name was in the memorial too. It was the first time, that Hermione felt and understood, what Harry had been feeling, being famous and not wanting it. To have a lot of eyes watching her, waiting for her every move, it was suffocating and she needed to run away. In the end, it wasn't a solemn memorial they attended but rather a happy event at that, thanks to George who was already there when they arrived. But for the life of her, Hermione couldn't remember why everything felt that something had suddenly gone wrong.

It was also the first time, that she and Fleur had a proper conversation, that much Hermione would never forget but as to the details of that conversation was another thing entirely. Hermione wrinkled her nose and made a small coughing noise, when a cloud of dust erupted from the book, Fleur had just opened in front of her, which was followed by a short sneeze. Her eyes began watering and she blinked them rapidly to get the dust out of her eyes.

"Hermione, are you alright?"

"Yes, dust got in caught in my eyes, that's all."

"Let me see," Fleur said and without warning, Fleur took Hermione's face in both hands. "Look up," the older witch murmured.

Hermione did as she was instructed. As soon as she did, she felt small breaths of air on her eyes. Cinammon? She thought. No, more like— "Mint?"

"Hmm?" Fleur said in response.

Hermione could feel her face heating up, she didn't mean to say out loud her thoughts. Even though she couldn't see Fleur directly, Hermione was sure that the older woman was smiling and that Fleur was feeling her embarrassment, Hermione's face was after all being held on Fleur's both hands. "It smells like mint, your breath smells like mint."

"Oh," Fleur responded. Fleur then stopped blowing softly on Hermione's eyes. She then, tilted the younger witch's face down to her eye level, hands still on Hermione's face. "I'm sorry. I didn't noticed that you were lost in thought." Fleur didn't released Hermione's face just yet, instead she began caressing it gently, which made Hermione blushed even more furiously. "Feel better?"

"Yes, thank you." They stared again at each other for a couple of seconds, before being immediately followed by an awkward silence between them. "So," Hermione said, she gestured to the open book on her desk, Fleur then reluctantly released Hermione's face from her grasp. If Fleur was embarrassed with what happened she didn't show it. Hermione took a deep breath, she was testing if any veela thrall was in the air, after this little exchange. Thankfully there was none, Fleur was definitely keeping herself in check. It was a sigh of relief for the younger witch, then she added, "Did you find something?"

"Yes, I think so."

Hermione quickly scanned the page, Fleur had opened and then raised her eyebrows in question to the older woman. "A wish?"

"Yes," Fleur then leaned on top of Hermione's desk. She took one of Hermione's quills then began playing with it, running the feather part of the quill back and forth across her palm.

Hermione couldn't help thinking, how it would feel like if Fleur ran that over her body, then stopped suddenly when Fleur was giving her a strange look, half of a teasing smile on her lips. Hermione cleared her throat and then focused her attention back on the book. "It doesn't make sense."

"Au contraire, it makes a lot of sense." Fleur straightened up and moved behind Hermione. She placed an arm on the back of Hermione's chair and then leaned over to flipped the page Hermione was reading to the next. "Continue reading, mademoiselle."

"But all their lot disappeared a long time ago," Hermione muttered under her breath, surprise evident in her voice. "No wonder he went berserk on us. But he couldn't be a pure blood."

"Non, he's something else. I'm surprised he even lived this long, didn't you notice it?"

"I'm not sure, he could definitely mimic a wizard's magic. What I want to know, is why come to us? It's true, no one has ever made a ground breaking study in regards with that, for the last thousand years or so. It's generally accepted as it is, besides the only thing we can do is keep a record."

"It's because no one has been working on it, or even wants to work on it."

"But you did, how on earth did you even got Draco to agree?"

"I used certain ways, being a part-veela does have its convenient uses." Fleur answered nonchalantly.

"Part-veela, right. But you veela out like a pure blooded one. Why is that?"

"I don't know, but I told you about it. And I was only teasing you about getting Monsieur Malfoy to agree. I presented him with some facts, that persuaded him to say yes."

"You did? What was it?" Hermione looked up, only to find Fleur leaning on her desk again. How did she— never mind. She then returned her focus back on the book and squinted at it, there was a marking on the bottom right corner of the page, it looked like a round ink blot at first, but staring at it, "Fleur, does this look similar to you?" Hermione said, handing Fleur the book and pointing to the small figure in the book.

"Merde," Fleur muttered under her breath, it was now her turn to be surprised.

"It's a little hard to miss, when you know where you've seen it before, but it's a bit different from that one."

"Oui," Fleur looked up and stared down the end of the corridor narrowing her eyes.

"'Qua impossible est possible,' how befitting," Hermione said.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Nothing, the department's vision just popped into my head."

"I can understand that, where the impossible is possible," Fleur said almost to herself.

Hermione was once again watching Fleur, when the older witch said that. "Is that why you left Gringotts to work here? To make the impossible, possible?"

"Non, ma belle, like you, I seek another answer."

"An answer to what? Maybe the reason why you're having a hard time, is because you're not asking the right questions."

"Believe moi, I'm asking the right question, and I have an answer already, but I refuse to accept that there is only one answer."

"If you have your answer already to whatever question that you have had, and cannot accept it as it is, then do what I do." Hermione said smiling at Fleur.

"And what is that, mademoiselle?"

"Find a loophole, and then create your answer."

"Ah, then I must say, that we are thinking the exact same thing," Fleur said and then made a small frown. "But even so, I don't have much time left."

"We do have the Time Chamber," Hermione indicated down the corridor that Fleur had been staring at. "We can make time."

"I hate to remind you mademoiselle, you nearly destroyed that chamber, and up until now, it's still unsafe to go inside. And even if I make time," Fleur shook her head, then turned to look at Hermione, "it won't be enough."

"It sounds to me like you've given up."

"Non, if I did, I wouldn't be here, if its still possible to reverse time, I would have chosen to walk away."

"Walked away from what? You're full of mysteries you are, no wonder you met the qualifications. Maybe I can help you find another answer, this is a dead end anyway, I fail to see what Malfoy would want us to do next. I don't see myself going to Brazil anytime soon."

"A wish, huh?" Fleur murmured.

"Fleur, there's something else."

"What is it?"

"It's the name, it's oddly familiar, like I know of it."

"Is this the reason why you're strangely fixated on Brazil?"

"I do know of the name, she's a famous Brazilian witch, I think. But I know of her, from something else, I just can't seem to remember, it's like my mind is blocking it out on purpose."

"Maybe there is a reason, why you're blocking it out, maybe you're not suppose to remember."

"And why is that? It's not like knowing of a name caused me harm."

"It did, once."

Hermione just looked at Fleur quizzically, she couldn't help but feel that the older woman was changing the subject on purpose.

"It doesn't matter, I'll find out— Ow!" Hermione exclaimed when something hit the side of her face. "What is it?"

"It's a memo from William," Fleur said, reading the note she had picked up when it fell on Hermione's desk, "he's at the atrium already."

"You have a date?"

"Non."

"Oh, I thought it was a date, you seemed dressed up today."

"I'm always dressed up everyday."

"I didn't notice."

"Maybe it's time you should." Fleur winked and with that she leaned over and kissed Hermione on both cheeks, which left Hermione extremely red all over her face which thankfully the older witch did not noticed.

xxxXXXxxx

Hermione was sitting on the sand dunes well away from the bonfire, lost in thought. She was watching the waves crashed violently on the shores and wondered about wading in. That's stupid, it's not like I have a death wish, she thought. But didn't you want to disappear just a couple of nights ago? She sighed. A gust of cold wind then blew in her direction, making the low hanging branch she was using to hide from the others, smack her arm. "Ow!" She glared at the annoying branch before standing up and moved a couple of feet away from it. She looked up, when the sand dune she was about to sit on was illuminated by the brilliant glow of the moon.

"It is beautiful," a voice said from somewhere behind her, reflecting her thoughts exactly.

Hermione jumped at the sound of the voice. Instead of turning around, to welcome the person that was behind her, Hermione opted to sat down on the sands, knees drawn close to her chest, and chose to ignore whoever it was, hoping that with this indifferent attitude, that person would just leave her alone. The sound of the crashing waves, the boisterous laughter at the bonfire and the sound of the low hanging branch as it danced when another gust of wind blew, were lost on Hermione when she tilted her face up to gaze at the moon. She was so engrossed in her own thoughts, that she didn't discerned that someone sat beside her. Hermione didn't tore her gaze away from the moon when she said, "Don't you know the concept of respecting someone's privacy?" she said, a bite in her voice.

"If you wanted, how did you say it, privacy, I'm sure you could do better than this."

Hermione knew that the other person was right. Maybe she wanted to be found after all, and even if that was what she wanted, its definitely not by this person. Anyone but her, the last time they were alone in a room together, was a memory she wished she did not remember now. Fleur was fearsome in that memory, even more than Bellatrix, and the latter was as evil and cruel as they come. Hermione shifted her gaze to look at the French witch, who seemed intent on invading her solitude, only to meet that cerulean blue eyes of hers. There was a soft smile on the older woman's face. Hermione just rolled her eyes in response and focused her attention back on the full moon. Maybe if she ignored Fleur long enough, the older woman would take the hint and just leave. If Fleur took the hint, she did not do it, instead she continued to sit there silently beside Hermione. In a way, it was comforting to have Fleur with her. The older witch needn't say anything, it was a silence that was calming her troubled thoughts. Hermione knew that they were sitting there just like that for awhile, when she became distinctly aware that the rowdiness coming from the bonfire was dying down. Hermione stretched her legs before her and then laid back down on the sand dune. She then raised her right arm up towards the sky, her palm open covering the full moon with it. She then curled her thumb and index finger together so that they'd form a circle big enough to encircle the moon.

"Do you know how veelas are born, Hermione?" Fleur spoke suddenly, breaking the silence.

Hermione lowered her arm slowly and placed it on top of her stomach. "I suppose just like wizards and witches, you take a mate, fall in love maybe, and then have children." She turned her focus on the older woman, who was now looking down on her. It was the first time that Hermione thought Fleur to be beautiful, she even debated if her eyes were playing tricks on her. It seemed to her that Fleur was glowing, maybe it was the light of the full moon, but whatever it was, it was accentuating her goddess-like features, it was no wonder that men and women blindly falls head over heels on first sight for this woman. She was just simply breathtaking that way. Oddly enough, Hermione was far from feeling love at first sight for Fleur, it was the opposite perhaps, instead of blindly falling, Hermione felt like she had just opened her eyes, and was seeing Fleur, for the first time. She sat back up and peered at Fleur more closely, their faces inches apart. How could I have not noticed, that she's just like any other woman? It's true, she's exceptionally attractive, but I get the feeling that she's just like the rest of us. And why is she nervous? Hermione thought suddenly. It's because you're staring at her like a lunatic. Having realized this, Hermione laid back down on the sand once more and went back to staring at the moon. "Why are you asking all of a sudden anyway?"

Fleur shook her head, if Hermione made her uncomfortable by staring at her blatantly, she didn't mind it. In fact, at that time, Fleur wanted Hermione to not look at anything else other than her. "For half-veelas and part-veelas, yes, that is how you do it, but for pure blooded veelas, it's a different matter entirely."

"I don't understand," she began, Hermione looked and felt confused, "Why are you telling me?"

"I thought, you'd find it interesting. Even if it isn't much, I just wanted to get your mind off the things that you've been thinking about lately."

"Oh, that— I didn't think someone would notice." Hermione said.

"I would always notice."

Hermione thought it odd for Fleur to say something like that. She dismissed the thought immediately, maybe it was that obvious that something was weighing her down, of course she didn't expect for Ron to notice, he was always thick when it comes to emotions, and Harry was pretty much glued to Ginny and Ginny to Harry this days. Hermione was honestly happy for the two of them, she didn't want to be the one to burst the couple's happy bubble with something as trivial as her problems and Harry deserved to enjoy happiness. Hermione was starting to feel awkward being alone with Fleur, besides, with after what she witnessed the first time they were in Shell Cottage, Hermione wasn't sure if she could handle something like that happening again, but Fleur did promised her, that nothing like that would happen again, as long as she promises to keep herself safe. It was an odd compromise they made, but one Hermione was all too happy to keep, as long as she doesn't witness anything like that again. Hermione had no idea how to respond to that, so chose to answer to what Fleur said about the veelas, "I think I happen to read a chapter on veelas back when I was in fourth year." Hermione said twisting her head to look at Fleur who was now watching the ocean intently. "I remember Ron and Harry saying that you were one and me disagreeing, because if you were I would have been affected like them by that veela thrall of yours."

"And were you affected?"

"I don't remember, maybe because that time, I didn't believed that you were."

"How about now?" Hermione could hear the earnestness in Fleur's question.

"There was that time though, it happened here." Hermione suddenly didn't like the direction their conversation was going, so she hastily changed it back to Fleur's topic of conversation. "I read in that chapter about veelas, that certain mating rituals are involved, I assumed that was just a lighter term for the normal way you know to conceive children." Hermione blushed at this. "So, you're saying that a pure blooded veela is born differently from half veelas and part veelas."

"Yes, they're not born, but if I have to describe it more accurately, pure blooded veelas are created."

"Created?" Hermione queried and then began to giggle which immediately turned into laughter. She rolled on her side in Fleur's direction, then looked up to see an amused expression on Fleur's face. She stopped laughing and then sat up, she was now facing Fleur directly and started to giggle again. "Sorry," she said in between fits of giggles.

"I didn't think I said something funny. Then again, whatever it was, I succeeded in making you laugh." The amusement on Fleur's face never left her.

"No," Hermione paused, finally controlling herself. "I just imagined Frankenstein's monster, he was created in a laboratory. You see, Dr. Frankenstein created a creature and then gave life to it using bolts of lightning, I know it's absurd, but the image just jumped in my head, when you said that veelas were created rather than born."

"Dr. Frankenstein? Who is that?"

"It's a book I read a long time ago, I'm sorry, go on, you were telling me about veelas being created. So, how does it happen?"

"My grand-mère says that veelas used to be witches." Fleur stopped when she saw the inquisitive look on Hermione's face. "Spirits of witches to be exact."

"Witches, you mean like me and you?"

Fleur nodded. "More like you, I am part-veela after all."

"You said 'spirits of witches,' like a ghost?"

"Non, ghosts and spirits are different like night and day, you know that."

"Right, sorry. It's just that I've never read anything about it before."

"You never will, the veela history is handed down orally from generation to generation, until the veela lineage is broken."

"So then," Hermione retorted, her full attention still focused on Fleur, she has to admit it, the woman had her way of keeping her mind off certain things. Hermione's curiosity was definitely piqued. "Veelas were spirit of witches, if they were spirits, how exactly had they taken a body of their own? I only knew of one who took a body of his own after ripping his soul apart." Hermione's eyes narrowed suspiciously at this. "Does it involve dark magic?"

"No, it doesn't," Fleur answered immediately, taken aback by Hermione's question. Hermione was still looking at Fleur, with full accusation on her face. "Hermione, I swear to you it doesn't."

"Alright, answer this then, how does a witch's spirit acquire a body without using any kind of Dark Magic?"

"Have you ever seen a pure-blooded veela?" The look of suspicion was still on Hermione's face when Fleur asked the question and the French witch wasn't sure if Hermione would answer.

It surprised Fleur, when Hermione nodded in answer to her question, remembering the Quidditch World Cup: Bulgaria vs. Ireland, she saw with Harry and the Weasleys, before her fourth year at Hogwarts. The Bulgarian Quidditch Team brought veelas for their mascots while the Irish Quidditch Team brought leprechauns for their mascots.

"Have you seen them dance and heard them sing?"

Hermione nodded again.

"What have you noticed?"

Hermione closed her eyes trying to recall the events before the game. She remembered the excitement that was palpable in the air. She remembered sitting on the edge of her seat when Ludo Bagman the then commentator of the game and Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports cleared his throat and then magically amplified his voice to announce the opening of the Quidditch World Cup. She remembered when Bagman introduced the Bulgarian Mascots. She remembered that she had never seen women so beautiful that their beauty looked almost unnatural to her. She remembered her intense disliked for these creatures for it was just unbearable for her to watch them dance. She remembered her disliked for these creatures mounting more and more by the minute when the boys, specifically Harry and Ron, made them act stupid. (Harry was standing up with one of his legs resting on the wall of the box and Ron was frozen in an attitude that looked like he was about to dive from a springboard with his arms parallel to each other and extended high above his head.) Hermione opened her eyes to look at Fleur and then just shrugged her shoulders.

"There's nothing to notice except, Harry and Ron being stupid."

"It was all you observed then," Fleur said as if making a conclusion about something.

"Well, I noticed something!" Hermione protested indignantly.

"Yes, but I was referring to the veelas that were singing and dancing, had you not noted anything else about it?"

"I can't recall the song, because it sounded horrible to me which was contrary to what Ron and Harry said. They said it was mesmerizing, enchanting, enthralling even but I didn't heard it that way. But what I do remember was when the veelas were dancing, I couldn't bear to look at it. It was too painful to watch, it left me with some kind of ache somewhere deep inside of me." Hermione finished in almost a whisper, a hand involuntarily clutching her chest as if she was feeling that ache now.

Fleur was taken aback by this answer. Without a second thought, Fleur moved closer to Hermione and took the younger witch's hand, the one clutching her chest into one of her own and then pulled her close. She didn't need to stare deep into Hermione's eyes, to know the truth in those words, she felt them, no, she didn't just felt them, she experienced it the way Hermione sensed it that long ago, no it was her veela nature that sensed it and let her experienced it for herself. "You're horrible," Hermione murmured against her chest.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean for you to feel—"

"No," Hermione interrupted Fleur's apology, she pushed gently away, dimly aware that their fingers were laced together. "It's not that. You avoided my question with another question, that's why you're horrible."

"I didn't intend to, my question was part of the answer to your question."

"Fine then, so this singing and dancing had something to do for a witch's spirit to acquire a body?" Hermione sounded skeptical at this.

"No, not quite, but in order for you to be able to get the full picture," Fleur paused, "to say it bluntly, the singing and dancing tells a story, the dance tells the story more rather than the song. To any other ordinary wizard or witch, the dance would be just another dance choreographed to entice and seduced and you didn't saw it that way. When a veela dances, it tells us a story. Their story; how they lived, loved and died. But the bitter irony is, not one of them could remember exactly who they were when they were witches and living humans still."

"Ok, I get that, but your grandmother was a pure-blooded veela and she danced and sang like how you just told me?"

"'Is,' present tense Hermione," Fleur corrected her smiling.

Hermione blushed at her assumption. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright. William made the same mistake as well. You should watch her dance then, maybe you can tell her the story she's forgotten." Hermione made a face at this. It was Fleur's turn to laugh. "You're thinking of an old woman dancing, am I correct?"

"Well, yes," Hermione was red in the face, since Fleur was right on what she was thinking. "It's your grandmum, your mum's mum, wouldn't she be old?"

"She hasn't aged a bit," Fleur murmured.

"Really?"

"Yes, one of the thing's a veela can do."

"But you still haven't answered my question. So I'll take a guess then." Fleur smiled in response. "It has something to do with how a witch dies. You can't be a a full spirit if you haven't died. And also, it has something to do with possession, that's the only thing I can think of a spirit acquiring a body without resorting to really dark magic. But possession itself is dark magic, everybody knows that."

"Possession is not dark magic, if it's mutual. And you are partly correct." Fleur could tell that Hermione was having a hard time believing what she said.

"Right, say that I accept that for now, so how exactly does a spirit acquire a body, through possession that has no dark magic involved?"

"A wish."

"A wish?" Hermione repeated back.

"Yes, a wish. The answer for a spirit to acquire a body through possession without dark magic involved is a wish."

"Wishes don't come true."

"Yes, it does."

"This is confusing me, it's too mythical to even be true, alright say that I believed that again, how exactly are veelas born or created rather? I get the dancing and the singing part. I get that they were witches before and the way they lived and died had something to do to become a veela, I get all that. But Fleur, for a wish to come true, it has to come from a very strong feeling, that nothing could ever shake it, and don't you need a medium for a wish to actually come true?"

"Oui, un Jinn."

"Exactly, and Jinns disappeared a long time ago, not to mention they are envoys of dark magic."

"Not all of them. Most Jinns are tricksters, rather than envoys of dark magic."

"You mean they still exist?" Hermione stopped. "Now, I'm all confused. How about we go back to something I can accept, like those witches that became veelas, tell me more about them."

"You understood that death is a factor, correct?" Fleur saw the younger witch nod. "The witches who became veelas, either committed suicide or were murdered."

"But witches die all the time either by murder or by suicide."

"Oui, but not all of them died by drowning nor the reason for their death is love," Fleur finished almost lamely, she tried to search for other words to phrase this, but this was all that came out.

"Love?" Hermione questioned, she almost laughed out loud at this but then stopped herself. At first she thought it was a foolish reason, but then she remembered something that Dumbledore told Harry and then Harry told her and Ron. It was love that saved Harry from ultimately killing him, from Voldemort's Killing Curse. Love, a very powerful kind of magic, as purest as it can be and as old since time itself began.

"Yes, love."

"But shouldn't love save all?"

"It should, but for veelas it became a curse."

"How so?"

"Veelas were witches who were frivolous and extremely vain. They played with a man or a woman's affection, making them think that they love them back and then eventually discarding them, shunning them or for some just throwing it away. They took joy in seeing suffering because of love for them," Fleur paused upon seeing Hermione's stony expression. "They're not evil," Fleur said almost immediately afraid that Hermione would think of her grandmother or herself as evil, "Yes, I admit that it might sound that way to you, but for lack of a better word, they're really not."

"How can they not? They even acquire a body through possession. And even if they weren't evil, what would you call it then?"

"Heartless," Fleur said.

"These witches must be really beautiful or utterly brilliant potioneers," Hermione said, while thinking about those powerful love potions that Professor Slughorn mentioned during one Potions class, how it could be punishable by imprisonment in Azkaban if the Love Potion doesn't conform to the Ministry of Magic's standards. "Or both and why do I get the feeling that drowning isn't enough to be reborn as a veela?"

"All water has natural magic, a magic that heals and restores, you know this," Fleur said. "And if that body of water has exceptionally strong magical power, it could sustain a life on the brink of death, if you knew how to harness that kind of power. Or alternatively if you would accept this as truth, all you have to do is wish. One has to die in such a place in order to be reborn as a veela. My grandmother never told me exactly how it happens, but it just does."

Hermione was silent. She was taking in everything that Fleur had just told her, but she still has a lot of questions, her ever inquisitive mind was getting the better of her. She was about to ask Fleur something when the older witch interrupted her train of thoughts.

"Whenever I think about it, these witches were given some sort of curse or punishment that's why a veela is born or created. Creatures who are so beautiful, alluring, enchanting and enthralling that they can make anyone fall in love with them with just one look, one word, or just even with a slight touch."

"Curse? Punishment? I don't see it Fleur, in fact weren't they just transformed into a much better version of their past lives?" Hermione said with a hint of sarcasm on her voice.

Fleur smiled politely at this.

"That may be how it looks like, it is true that a veela can do all those things. But there is an ugly side, a horrible creature is born as well."

"Do you mean that bird-like form a veela transforms into?"

"Yes but not quite, in a veela's lifetime, the veela can now recognize what real love is and be able to feel it herself."

"Isn't that a good thing?" Hermione asked.

Fleur just shook her head.

"Why not?"

"When a veela finally finds her true love, it's impossible for them to be with the one they love. A veela can't choose either, who it's going to be."

"That's too dramatic, even for me."

"I wish it were so. You see even if a veela finds her true mate, the veela cannot fall in love."

"Why not?"

"Because we kill the person we love. That's why veelas only take on a mate who is suitable. Not the person that we're meant to be with. Imagine settling for the second best thing when you know you can have the best. Imagine, having a shot at your happy ending, having it within your grasp only to let it go in the end. A veela would sacrifice anything and everything, just for that one person, and if it comes to a choice, the veela would choose her mate."

"It's terrible. It's too much of a punishment, but it won't affect you right?" Hermione asked, something changed when Fleur told her that last bit, she was immediately concerned for the blond witch. As to why Hermione was, she just can't put her finger on it, not at that moment.

Fleur didn't say anything, she only gave a gentle smile at Hermione.

"It affects you too," it finally hit Hermione. She didn't recall all of it, but Fleur explained to her why she acted the way she did that night, like a pure blooded veela, even though, there's only a quarter of veela blood in her.

"You remembered," Fleur answered. "But, you don't need to worry, I never had any intention of finding my mate."

"Even if you have no intention, you did say that you can't choose who it's going to be, what if you unexpectedly found your mate, what would you do then?"

"Run at full speed towards the opposite direction?" Fleur joked half heartedly, it was an outright lie, because she was doing exactly the reverse of what she said.

Hermione exhaled a puff of air loudly. "You're unbelievable." It was now Hermione who took Fleur's hands in both her own and stared deeply into the older woman's eyes. "I will find a way around this veela curse, Fleur. I promise. Because you did nothing wrong and everybody deserves a chance to be happy."

"Are you serious about this?"

"Why not?" Hermione said, she then dropped Fleur's hands and began standing herself up. Once upright, she stretched her back and closed her eyes to feel the cold wind more on her face. She glanced at Fleur, who happened to be following her every movement. "What? Aren't we supposed to be friends? Friends help each other out, even if they don't asked for it."

"Hermione, I—"

"I'm serious, Fleur, I won't take no for an answer." Hermione interrupted holding out her hand, to help Fleur up.

Fleur just shook her head in response and grasp the offered hand. It felt rather nice to hold Hermione's hand like this, so she held on for a bit longer. If Hermione only knew, how much it meant to her, to actually have a chance, it was more than she could have hoped for. "Before you do anything, I think the best thing to do right now is head back to the cottage. It's almost dawn, ma belle, we're going to catch a cold if we stay out here, far longer more than we already should have."

If Hermione was conscious of their hands still intertwined she did not mind it. The younger witch was staring, unseeing into the ocean. "Naia," the younger witch murmured to herself.

Fleur jerked her head up in response to the name she barely heard. Alarm was clearly written all over the French witch's countenance. "Hermione?" She pulled the younger witch around to face her and was shocked to see the younger witch's face drained of color. Hermione's pallor was extremely pale. She held Hermione's face in both hands, forcing the brunette, to look at her. "Stay with me," she pleaded, unsure if the younger witch heard her.

"Fleur, whose Naia?"

If Fleur answered her question, Hermione did not hear it. Instead she was feeling it for the second time, that dangerous veela thrall. The odd thing was that she wasn't afraid of it, like the first time it did to her. It felt like she was being asked by it, to let it in, asking her to accept it. Hermione didn't need to say it, all she had to do was not fight it and let it take her over. Hermione closed her eyes for a brief second and then opened them once more. It was the deepest blue she had ever seen, no, it was that deep, because the outer rim of Fleur's blue eyes were rapidly changing to a black color. Hermione forced herself to focus on those eyes, because if she did not, she felt like she would drown and Fleur was the only thing keeping her anchored. Pain, like she'd never known before were reflected in those semi blue orbs. It was as if Fleur knew what was happening to her. Those blue eyes, pleading with her brown ones to fight it. But Hermione lost and she was all too aware of it, because the next thing she felt was soft lips pressing into her own. It would have been nice, if Hermione didn't feel the desperation and taste the saltiness in them. It was the last thing she remembered before she fell into that darkness for the very first time.