Defying Gravity

by nocturneyez

One trying to become more than what she really is. One trying to become who she can truly be. What happens if their two worlds begin to collide? *REVISED*

5. Four

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's a long chapter, so hopefully, you guys would read it all the way through. (^_^) And sorry if it took awhile to update, I had to make some minor changes because of the inconsistencies with this chapter from the previous 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.

Four

A dream?

Hermione glanced over at the window, it wasn't even light outside yet. This was the third time in a row this week that she awoke before the crack of dawn. She stared up at the ceiling and focused on the familiar zigzagging lines on it, trying hard to recall every detail of the dream. Hermione wasn't certain herself, because it comes to her in bits and pieces, but last night was the most detailed she had dreamt about it, or was it even a dream? Somehow it feels more like a memory. A memory? It couldn't be, she thought before getting up. She walked towards the small window and opened it. Hermione breathed in the fresh morning air and could distinctly smell coffee wafting in from the kitchen below. Bill must have brewed a pot already, I wonder what time he came in or if he just got up. Hermione took another deep breath, before parking herself in front of her full length mirror, to give herself a quick over. She grimaced when she saw that her brown tresses were all over the place, even though Hermione had managed to tame her hair over the years, somehow it always seems to go back to being bushy whenever she'd just woken up. She sighed as her attempts to straighten out her unruly top were futile, though it wasn't as messy as earlier. This is as good as it's going to get.

Hermione made a quick stop in the bathroom on her floor, to take a shower and to brush her teeth, before going down into the kitchen, having decided she appears decent enough to make an appearance. Hermione paused just at the entry, Am I still dreaming? She wondered briefly. What she saw before her, was a scene that looks like straight out of a dream, no not a dream, more like deja vu. Mrs. Weasley would have never approved if she were here, well except for Fleur, who looked like she had taken control over the kitchen. Fleur had her hair tied up in a ponytail and was wearing a faded pink apron over her clothes and was standing between the stove and counter, directing her wand like a conductor of an orchestra, over a series of food preparations: whisking a bowl of eggs, mixing a batter of pancakes, and frying bacon, since the smell was drifting over Hermione's direction. Fleur expertly dodged a group of cutlery as it sailed past just at her head level; Ron, apparently was the one assigned to set the table.

"Ronald, you're going to hurt somebody with that," Fleur said, it was only for a split second, but Fleur turned her head to glance at Hermione, who seemed to sense the younger witch's presence and smiled. If there were any other observer in the room, it would have looked to them that Fleur never took her eyes off her cooking, except for Hermione, who unbeknownst to the younger witch herself had already trained her eye to Fleur's incredible veela speed.

"I thought it would be faster this way," Ron said, going purple in the face, since Fleur spoke his name. Hermione shook her head, after years of meeting Fleur for the first time, the youngest Weasley boy still has the ability to go purple whenever he's in near proximity of the French part-veela witch. Ron developed the habit of avoiding being in the same room alone with Fleur, but not today, Hermione surmised, Ron must be really hungry, what else could it be?

"I think I just had a vision of Fred and George, doing something like this," Harry said, he looked as if he was trying hard not to laugh at Ron's embarrassment. "Oi, 'Mione, how long are you planning to stand there? Help out will you?" Harry said, looking her way, the second one to notice her presence.

"And good morning to you too, Harry." Hermione greeted, as she sidestepped a plate stacked full of toasts as it flew towards the long wooden table. "I think you lot, have a handle on it already, I'll just wait."

"Non, ma belle, you're helping, we're having a big breakfast today."

"Are we having guests? We rarely do breakfast around here, since Mr. and Mrs. Weasley went away on their trip."

"Oh no, don't let our 'Mione help," Ron piped in with a look of mock horror on his face.

"And what do you mean by that Ronald?" Hermione said an eyebrow raised at this.

"You're a terrible cook, sorry 'Mione I agree with Ron," Harry answered, seeing Ron dodging quickly out of Hermione's wand way.

"You're absolutely horrid, the two of you."

Fleur was watching the whole interaction between the three with amusement on her face. It was always funny to see the two boys ganging up on the brunette, but it was just that, a playful banter amongst them, something she wholeheartedly envies, wishing that Fleur could have that with Hermione as well. Even though the exchange was commonplace, Fleur also knew that this two boys, no not boys anymore but men, will always come to Hermione's rescue if ever she needed it. "If it's any consolation mademoiselle, I'll be happy to have whatever it is that you would make in the kitchen," Fleur said over her shoulder.

Hermione didn't miss the meaningful exchange of looks between Harry and Ron. She didn't need to guess what it could have meant as she has a pretty good idea what it could have been. Hermione glared at them when they caught her looking and exhaled a puff of air loudly in irritation. Ever since that luncheon they had, the two men, would tease her about the book at every given opportunity, more so if Fleur was in the room with them. "For Merlin's sake, Ron, give me that," Hermione pointed her wand at the coffee mugs, which Ron was levitating towards the dining table. "You're seriously going to hurt somebody with the way you're setting the table."

Sometime later, the four of them had finished the tasked of making breakfast, without any casualties, mainly on Ron's part with his haphazard kitchen magic. Fleur was an excellent cook and if Mrs. Weasley was here, Fleur would have made the woman proud, even though their relationship is something that hasn't mended yet, since Fleur divorced Mrs. Weasley's eldest son. The woman still loathe Fleur with such a passion, to the point that the French witch stayed well out of the way of the Burrow and Shell Cottage even though she was part owner of the latter place. They were all seated around the long wooden table, with Harry and Ron on one side and Fleur and Hermione on the other. They were making small talk as they all helped themselves to the breakfast they put all their effort to make, well mainly Fleur made, since she was the only one who knows how to cook.

"Something smells good in here," a voice said coming in from the doorway. Bill looked like he had just woken up, his long hair was already tied up in a ponytail, but strands are still sticking up. He was surveying the food laden table and took another deep breath of appreciation. "How come you lot are up early?" He asked, while glancing out the window, "And it's only sunrise." He took the seat at the end of the table and helped himself to a mug of coffee.

"Me and Harry just got in, we haven't gone to bed yet." Ron answered for him while helping himself to huge servings of eggs and bacons.

"Mmm," Bill sipped appreciatively at his steaming mug. "And Ginny?"

"Ginny didn't come home," Harry volunteered. "She's staying for most of the week at the Arrows' Dormitories, Quidditch Season is starting and they start practice just before dawn."

"We're not an early lot though," Bill murmured to himself, while looking over the rim of his mug to the two women, who were opting out of their small conversation. Hermione and Fleur both looked like they had another sleepless night, though Fleur was better in hiding it rather than Hermione, if he didn't bloody knew Fleur well enough, he wouldn't have been able to see the tell-tale signs that were there. How long this had gone on, Bill knew, he would have butted in a long time ago, if it weren't known that these two could be real stubborn. He smiled when Fleur caught him looking. "So what's with the breakfast? We don't do breakfast around here anymore."

"It's like what I was saying earlier, I came in here and there they were." Hermione answered, then went back to playing around with her pancakes. She was sure that it was delicious, but somehow, lately this days she barely has any appetite to eat. It's like she was coming down with something, but she wasn't entirely sure either.

"These two were making a mess in Molly's kitchen, so I decided to take over, before they ruined anything." Fleur said, giving Hermione a side glance. "You don't like your pancakes?"

"Oh, yes," Hermione said looking up. "It's tastes great." She added hastily and then took a fork and sliced it into a tiny little piece before putting it into her mouth.

"Are you sure? I'll make you something else, if you want," Fleur offered, Hermione didn't miss the tone of concern on Fleur's voice.

Before Hermione could answer, she saw another meaningful exchange between Harry and Ron. It would have been fine, if Ron wasn't snickering behind his food. "Will you stop it?" Hermione finally burst out. "For the last time, we aren't da—" She stopped when she saw Bill had a bemused expression on his face. Fleur wasn't helping either, because the woman had absolutely picked up on what she was about to say, and was positively trying to hide a smile while eating. She took a deep breath, "Honestly, it's still way too early even for you two."

"No it's not, technically it's late since we haven't gone to bed yet," Ron argued, it was safe for him to speak since Hermione wasn't wearing the expression that she was about to retaliate on them. "And 'sides we are already in agreement."

"Agreement to what?" Hermione asked, giving Harry a pointed look and then shook her head. "Never mind, somehow I don't want to know." She then stood up, flicked her wand and sent her almost uneaten breakfast flying towards the kitchen sink, "I'll see you at work," Hermione said to Fleur with a small smile, before leaving through the back door and apparating towards the Ministry.

xxxXXXxxx

"They could be real idiots," Hermione said to herself. Once again, she was in the Great Library, doing research in regards to her work with the Department. This time, she was surrounded by three piles of research materials; the two piles on her left and right were already sorted as relevant and irrelevant material, where the third pile just a little behind her was still unsorted. When Hermione came in that morning, she went to her new spot, somewhere in the aisles of the Obscure Texts Section in the Great Library and cast a very powerful summoning charm, summoning almost all the books that has any useful information about Jinns and wishes, that will relate to Fate. When Hermione accepted the job offer, Hermione's fascination with magic had increased ten-fold. There was just so much more than she could have ever grasped, it's far more greater than she could have ever imagined when she first received her letter, saying that she was a witch and was accepted to study magic at Hogwarts. Before then, all this was just fantasy for her, only believing that something was seriously wrong with herself, since she could do stuff that were unexplainable and unimaginable. It was after that, is when she realized that things can be explained once you know where to start looking for the answers. So then, what better place to work for when you want to understand things right down to its simple form than the Department of Mysteries, where all the great mysteries of the world, namely, love, time, thoughts, life and death, the universe, and fate can be studied and be made into something which has a concrete form that can be touched, and not just an idea to fill the gaps of knowledge in this world?

It was already past noon, since Hermione heard the twelve o'clock bell chimes sometime ago. She rubbed her temples, to relieve the headache she had been experiencing shortly after she arrived. It was a good thing, that Fleur hasn't gone and seen her yet, she wasn't good company as of the moment and Hermione was sure, with just the right push, she would be triggering Fleur's veela instincts and she doesn't want to deal with any of that right now. She made a quick wave of her wand, a book from the pile behind floated towards her, stopping just at her eye level, from what she could read of the runic alphabets of the title, she decided to placed it on the irrelevant pile. She rubbed her temples again, her headache was getting worse. Maybe it was because, she hasn't eaten anything since breakfast or that she hasn't been getting enough sleep, but even so, her headaches weren't this bad before. She closed her eyes and rested her head on her hands which she propped on her knee. How could a Jinn have anything to do with Fate? She thought. Jinns have the power to make a wish come true, but are they even related at all, I mean it's all contradicting, isn't it? Of all the subjects, Malfoy could have assigned her to, why did it have to be as troublesome as the workings of the Wheel of Fate? Sure, Hermione would never back down from a challenge, but having delved deeper and deeper into the subject, wasn't it just better to just give up and moved on to something else? The only concrete thing, that any Unspeakable can ever make on the subject has already been done before, and that is to keep records of it. Fleur was the only Unspeakable studying the subject until Hermione came along, the only real reason why Hermione was assigned to this if she were to accept it, was because of what Draco said to her two weeks ago, that she was the only person who can work with Fleur, but up until today, Hermione's still denying that she could be the only one.

Working with Fleur, for the last eight months, was like a one hellish ride on a Ferris Wheel; and beneath it all, Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that somehow Fleur was obsessed with the subject. Is she looking for her answer, by trying to meddle with Fate or even change it? But that's just incredibly insane, they should know more about it than anyone else, for anyone who had ever attempted it, had suffered something far more terrible than death, Hermione doesn't exactly know what it was, although she has read material that alluded to something like that. As the Unspeakables for the subject, all they could really do, was update whatever is known about it and perhaps provide a new understanding; why things happen the way they happen, how people meet at exactly the right moment, why some just crossed paths but were never meant to be with one another. Studying the subject, would make one conclude that there are no coincidences, maybe that was why Hermione had an uneasy feeling when Harry asked her about Brazil, it couldn't be a coincidence, right? Hermione argued with Fleur once, that if one would be negative about it, free will is just an illusion designed to manipulate one's destiny. Hermione knew that she'd be right, if she were to believe that some kind of of supreme force is controlling her life. Fleur countered then that what if, in an unanticipated moment, someone would come along, go far beyond the boundaries, dare challenge the rules, dare to defy the limits set by Fate's game, change the direction of Fate's wheels or unhinged it even, to become more than they were meant to be and who they were supposed to be, what would happen then? Hermione was unable to give an answer that time, but somehow, she had been thinking about that a lot, and knew that she had already stumbled on the answer because of Fleur or rather because of what Hermione feels about Fleur. A contradiction? A wish? Oh! Hermione exclaimed to herself. Is this what Fleur really meant all along? I thought she was referring to that man, because his existence in every aspect of what really should be is contradictory.

But following this logic, could it be that what Fleur really wanted, is not an answer, but something more tangible, something that she could hold on to, something concrete, like the way I'm holding my wand now? Hermione thought while staring at her wand. She made a frustrated sigh, she had to know, no, she needed to know, maybe she'll just blurt out the question when Fleur was least expecting it or something. Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose, all this thinking had intensified her headache. This past four months, the frequency of this headaches was increasing more and more, at first Hermione attributed it to fatigue, but she had been taking potions to help with that, no it was something else. She also noted that she tires out all too easily and there were days when she'd look in the mirror only to find herself too pale for her liking. Most of these symptoms almost always seem to happen, after Fleur veela's out, maybe that was how Fleur was affecting her. Instead of taking Hermione's rationality, she takes Hermione's life force. But it feels too stupid to even entertain that thought, the only kind of creatures known to suck away one's life, no not life but soul which would also be akin to a life force, are dementors, not veelas, and Hermione was absolutely certain that Fleur was not a dementor, it's laughable to even consider that.

Hermione made another wave with her wand, gave a quick read of the book's title that she had just levitated in front of her and placed it on the relevant pile. She rubbed her temples once more, applying more pressure on it than she had before and was about to pick up another book with her wand when she noticed it. It was the tattered old book that Fleur had lent her and it was sticking out from her bag. She glared at it angrily, it was the bane of Harry and Ron's merciless teasing, but curiosity got the better of her. She took it out of her bag and opened the book on a page somewhere in the middle. Hermione could feel the heat creeping up on her face as she was slowly coming to comprehend what the figures on the book was supposed to be doing, it didn't help at all that the pictures in the book were moving, she didn't notice that she had also turned it a hundred and eighty degrees the way Ron had. She took a deep gulp and skimmed the text on the page:

Before a veela and her lover attempts the following (see figures on page),

they must have performed the mating ritual.

See chapter on mating ritual.

Hermione turned the book another ninety degrees in reverse, trying to make sense of the position the figures were supposed to be in. Bugger! Is this—

"Curious much, cheri?"

Hermione dropped the book much to her chagrin and as luck would have it, the book fell open on the page she was looking at, she was about to pick it up when Fleur beat her to it and was staring at the page with interest. Fleur was giving her a sly smile and if possible Hermione's face had risen up to another degree. "Even if I was, who would I do it with? Not that it concerns you." She answered, recovering quickly and snatching the book away.

"How many other veelas do you know aside from me and my family?" Fleur answered the smirk never leaving her face. "I would be very happy to teach it to you, how do you say it, it would be a very good learning experience, non?"

Did Fleur just proposed to her indecently? It couldn't be, and if she was, Hermione would just turn down the proposal or would she? Hermione was about to retort back with something insinuating just to get back at Fleur, when she realized that the older witch was trying to suppress her laughter. "You're teasing me, stop it, I have enough of that from Ron and Harry, I don't need it from you."

"I'm sorry, it was just too hard to resist, and besides you really look beautiful when you're angry."

Once again, Hermione doesn't have an answer to Fleur, how the bloody hell does the French witch renders her speechless? Just when Hermione thought, she had blushed enough for her lifetime, she felt her face flushing again, so she cleared her throat, "Have you found anything new that could relate to our study?" Hermione assumed that was the reason, why Fleur was looking her up now. It was agreed upon during Hermione's period of sanction, that both would research on their own pace, but if one found something new or relevant, it was also agreed that they would discuss it with one another before proceeding with the next step or conferring it with their Head of Department.

"Non," Fleur said. She conjured a large brown paper bag out of thin air and gave it to Hermione.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, taking the paper bag. She opened it, to see that there were a couple of sandwiches inside, an apple and a carton of milk. "Thank you," Hermione murmured, "but I'm not hungry."

"I know, but you barely eat anything this days, I'm worried."

"I didn't think anyone would notice," Hermione said quietly.

"I would always notice," Fleur answered only to see the younger witch giving her a strange look. "Have I said something out of the ordinary?"

Hermione shook her head. "It's nothing, it's just that I've heard you said it before, in a dream, I think." Hermione was watching Fleur as the blond witch conjured a stool, and set it down right next to Hermione's discard pile. "Weren't you suppose to be in a meeting with Draco, to give him updates on our progress?"

"Oui, but I still have time. Also, I want to make sure, that you at least eat something."

"And you're not leaving until I do so."

"Non."

"Even if it makes you late?"

"Oui."

"Sometimes, you could be unbelievable." Fleur ignored Hermione's statement and picked up the topmost book on her discard pile and began reading it. Hermione rubbed her temples again, as she took out the apple and bit loudly on it. She observed Fleur for awhile, taking in as Fleur flipped the page from one to the next, Hermione frowned when she recognized that the text Fleur was reading weren't written in modern day letters. "I didn't know you could speed read runic alphabets."

"Oui," Fleur said. Fleur's face began clouding up more and more as she continued reading to the last pages of the book. She looked up, catching Hermione's eyes on her, "Have you read this?" Fleur asked handing Hermione the book.

"No, I wasn't planning to." Hermione took it and opened it on the first page, on it was the same figure that they had discovered drawn on the page of the book that Fleur had found yesterday. She closed the book and stared at it, Hermione could only make out the word tale from her rudimentary translation of the title that was why she placed it on the discard pile. "What is it about?"

"It's a fairytale."

"A fairytale? Not another one of those," Hermione said.

Fleur smiled at the younger witch, only because she was glad to see that Hermione had already eaten half of the apple. "I thought you liked fairytales, I seem to remember you reading that one book, over and over again, when you sought shelter, back during the war."

"Yes, that was different. Beedle's tales were based on facts, but he uses too many allegories, that the actual events that really transpired were lost to children's bedtime stories."

"Not lost, Hermione, but hidden."

"Right, and he also used," Hermione added glancing at the book, "almost the same kind of runic texts, so there isn't really an exact way to translate his tales, well, not unless, the runic alphabet would become a lifelong study for an individual." Hermione threw the core of the apple she had eaten back inside the paper bag and took out a sandwich. Hermione was unaware that Fleur was watching her, the blond witch only spoke after Hermione took a bite.

"I think, it would interest you mademoiselle," Fleur said standing up, satisfied that the younger witch had at least filled her stomach with something, "that he, Beedle also penned that book."

"What?" Hermione answered, looking down on the book on her lap. "I don't see his name anywhere."

"He signed his name, under his dedication, just before the last story, that he never finished writing," Fleur flicked her wand once more, and the stool that she was sitting on, vanished into thin air.

"Are you leaving already?" Hermione said throwing the remainder of her sandwich, after taking three bites back into the bag.

"Oui," Fleur nodded and started walking back down the aisle towards the entrance of the Great Library.

Hermione brushed the bread crumbs off her lap all the while thinking, Fleur can't leave just yet, I still have to ask her that. Maybe it was a bad idea, Hermione added, but— "Fleur?" Hermione finally blurted out loud. Bugger! Here we go.

Fleur stopped and turned around to face Hermione. "Is there something wrong?" Hermione looked as if she was going to be sick, so Fleur shortened the distance between them and crouched down in front of Hermione, scrutinizing the younger witch's pale pallor.

Hermione moved back a couple of inches. Is there something wrong with my face? Fleur seemed worried. Fleur placed a palm on Hermione's forehead and touched her own with the other hand. "I'm fine," Hermione said.

"What is it? You don't look well, I noticed that earlier."

"No, it's not that," Hermione took a deep breath steeling herself. "It's just that I wanted to ask you something, and it seems really important that I know." Fleur nodded while straightening up, Hermione thought it odd for Fleur to take a few steps back, but then again, it would have been better that way. Hermione realized it too late, she had pushed a button, Hermione doesn't exactly know what, but it was hard to miss the shadow that was beginning to form on the outer rim of Fleur's blue eyes. How had everything shifted so fast? One minute, they were sharing each other's company amiably and now, it was full of something else. Perhaps, Hermione ought to read the book, from front to back, and not just open it randomly on any page that would suit her fancy. But even so, Hermione had already opened that door and she was not about to go back. If Fleur was about to do something stupid, Hermione ought to know what is, and maybe help avert the dire consequences that awaits. One thing was for sure, Hermione would hate it, if something bad happens to the French witch. Maybe her timing was wrong, but it couldn't be helped. "Remember, yesterday, when I asked you about why you quit your job at Gringotts to work here, you said you seek an answer." Another deep breath, thankfully Fleur was remaining silent and she had her fingers massaging the muscle between her eyes just above the bridge of her nose. Maybe Fleur was trying to control the slew of emotions that she was sensing from Hermione, and that was a good thing right? "Honestly, is the reason why you chose to work on this subject is because you want to change something?"

Fleur gazed directly into Hermione's searching brown eyes, then looked away but answered nonetheless, she could have chosen to answer indirectly, but found that it was just better to tell the truth, Hermione would have figured it out eventually, "If I was, would it change your opinion of me?"

"No, but I'd say you're being foolish."

"Exactly what my grand-mère said."

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, trying to control the wave of dizziness that was passing her right now, Hermione opened her eyes to find that the outer rim of Fleur's blue eyes were already coated in black, but Hermione didn't stop her line of questioning. "Are you certain about this? You're being stubborn, you can't tamper with fate, we know this, things end up the way they do for a reason."

"What if it's an absurd reason, aren't you even going to question it?"

"Yes I would, and if the answer doesn't satisfy me, what right have I to go against it?"

"You have every right to go against it! That is what I believe, what if you knew that something bad will happen to something or someone very important to you, would you still sit back and let it happen?"

"When you say it like that, no." Hermione paused, that Hermione could understand and accede to. "But what could be so bad, that you want to meddle with fate, even though you knew that whatever the price for that action is too much to bear?"

"It's my veela blood, it truly runs potent in my veins, and it just keeps on pushing and pushing, to the point that I can't push back anymore," Fleur stopped and then took a deep breath, it seemed to Hermione that Fleur was counting in her head, trying to calm herself down. She crossed her arms over her chest then continued, "even if I had a choice, I wouldn't want it any other way. A veela will give anything and everything for her mate and—"

"And if it comes to a choice, the veela would choose her mate," Hermione finished for Fleur. The older witch was looking at her strangely again. Bloody hell, Hermione thought. Did Fleur—

"How did you know?" Fleur asked, interrupting Hermione's thoughts.

"A memory that felt like a dream, now I can be sure, that it wasn't a dream, I just don't know why I forgot it." Hermione rubbed her temples again for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. "When were you planning to tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"That you found your mate. If I give it much thought, that's the only reason that would drive you to do something as asinine as this."

"I had no intention of telling you." Fleur answered, in a very calm voice, it was as if she was forcing their topic of conversation to end. And, Hermione was having none of that, in fact the younger witch felt betrayed?

"Why not? Do you really think so little of me, that I wouldn't notice that something is up with you?" Hermione couldn't help it, that her voice was rising. She was upset that Fleur didn't trust her enough, to tell her something as important as finding her mate. "Oh, for Merlin's sake, I'm your friend—"

"That's the problem!" Fleur exclaimed, matching Hermione's rising temper, the older witch having failed to calm herself down. "You are my friend, and I can't ask for anything more—"

"How would you know, if you wouldn't even ask?" Hermione angrily answered. She stood up, so forcefully that she knocked over the stool that she was sitting on, hitting the pile of unsorted books behind, enveloping them in a cloud of dust. "If I can give it to you, I will!"

It seemed that the silence stretched for eternity before Fleur answered. The dust hadn't settled yet, when Fleur asked in a voice that sounded defeated, "Hermione, have you ever considered the idea, that you could mean more to me than just a friend?"

"I—" Hermione began, but found that she had nothing to say. Instead of waiting for Hermione to finish her answer, the younger witch saw Fleur leaving through the cloud of dust.

xxxXXXxxx

It was late into the night when Hermione arrived at the Burrow, and the moment she had apparated, she fervently wished she hadn't come home. Surveying the scene before her, a drinking party was well under way. She wasn't really in a party mood, it was because she was still having her dizzy spells. Alternatively, Hermione wishes, that the scene that afternoon hadn't happened too. It also took awhile for the dust to cleared up, after Fleur left. Hermione also took her time, in cleaning up that aisle, only because she wasn't in a hurry to come home. She really doesn't want to face Fleur when she gets back. It was because of Fleur's last question that had her stuck. What could have Fleur meant? How could she be more than just a friend? It wasn't even an idea to consider, for her to be something more, that stuff just doesn't happen at least not to Hermione. Hermione was fine being in the sidelines, but for her to become center stage, that was another thing. She gave it a long thought that afternoon, and all she came up, were two conclusions that she wasn't entirely satisfied with. Maybe, it would be her role in helping Fleur, do the impossible, that is plausible, after all, everybody around her, keeps saying that she's the brightest witch of their time, and if she really applied herself, she could pass Dumbledore himself, but Hermione never had that kind of ambition. The other conclusion would be that, No, because it's too stupid, because if I was, I would have known of it since I was fourteen. But that second thought, once conceived, had been nagging on Hermione's head constantly, like an itch somewhere in her back, that she just can't seem to reach in order to scratch.

Hermione quickly darted her eyes in every direction of the backyard. It was a star filled night, the atmosphere just right, not too cold and not too humid either, and it also happens to be a weekend night, maybe that's why everybody was here. It was also a good thing that the music entertaining the night was blaring to an ear-splitting level, making the loud crack of her apparition go unnoticed, except for one, Hermione didn't need to turn her head to know who it was, she just knew. She decided to sneaked in inside using the front door, because if she used the back door, it was a sure thing that she would get roped into the festivities. She could also use a cloaking charm, but that's just too much effort and with a crowd full of powerful witches and wizards, the effort would seem useless. Hermione was still preoccupied with her thoughts when she skirted over the corner of the Burrow, the front door only just yards away, when she jumped because someone was calling her name loudly, drawing attention to her.

"Oi, 'Mione! Where're you sneaking off to?"

Hermione stopped and faced the person who called her out. She smiled when she saw who it was, "I reckon, nowhere near my bed, George."

George enveloped her in a bear hug and felt herself being lifted a couple of inches off the ground. "You look pale and awful," he said after setting her down.

"Quite an astute observation you have there, so can I be excuse?"

"No, not on my watch, besides, I have the perfect remedy for your woes." He answered grabbing Hermione's wrist and leading her, right into the table set up on the lawn which was groaning amidst the weight of all the drinks and food piled high, only stopping when people would greet her arrival.

Hermione raised her eyebrows, at the assortment of alcoholic drinks she was seeing. "George," she said, while watching George picked out different bottles of every size and shape, with every kind of color, from dark brown, to golden yellow, green, red, blue and placing them back quickly, searching for something to give Hermione, "did you just robbed a liquor store?"

"Ah, here we go," he said, holding up a bottle with clear liquid on it. "I wouldn't, how could you think that about me?" He asked, feigning hurt in his voice.

Hermione took the bottle that George had opened and was handing out to her and gave George a puzzled look. "Vodka? Really?"

"I thought a concoction would do you nice, but then it feels like you need something stronger."

"Nevertheless, but vodka? I didn't know you were even familiar with muggle alcoholic drinks."

"No thanks to you and Harry," he pouted as he led Hermione towards a couple of bean bags, that looked like it had been thrown in the lawn, as an afterthought. "But never mind that, I was looking for a new idea for the joke shop, and I came up with something like this, what do you think?" He gestured around him.

Hermione took a long sip from her bottle and looked around the backyard with much more attention than she had prior to being dragged here. Various people, whom Hermione knew well, were in varying states of drunken stupor. Ron who looked liked had passed out already with spit trickling down his chin. Harry and Ginny, who were displaying their affection with much vulgarity than the couple would have ordinarily. Percy and Charlie who were engaged in an argument which looked like would turn into a brawl any moment now. Angelina and Penelope who appeared to be consoling a crying Katie, and looked as if the two were about to cry too. Bill who had a needy and clingy look on his face while talking to Fleur. And Fleur while ignoring Bill, was watching Hermione with more predation than usual, like she was about to devour the younger witch whole. Hermione tore her eyes away from Fleur and took another swallow, forcing her attention back on George. "It's still a lawn, with drunk people in it," she remarked acidly.

George smiled wickedly. "Exactly." He plopped down on the bean bag noisily and patted the empty space next to him.

Hermione took the offered seat, as comprehension dawned on her. "You charmed the drinks!" Hermione exclaimed. "Ron has an unusual high tolerance for alcohol because of his metabolism. Harry would be too embarrassed to do anything like what he's doing to Ginny now, especially in front of his family." Hermione stopped and glared at George.

"And what else?" He prodded.

"Charlie has always been good natured and would never picked a fight, especially with Percy, whom all of you consider as the weakest brother in terms of physical strength. Katie, Angelina and Penelope, I have no idea what they would be crying about though." She finally smacked George in the arm as hard as she could.

"Ow!" He cringed rubbing the spot in his arm where Hermione had hit him. Of course, George didn't miss the fact, that Hermione said nothing about Fleur and Bill, he grinned inwardly at this. "Relax, the effect will wear off soon enough. Besides I'm still testing the product, and what better place to experiment than with my own family."

"I gave up a long time ago in reprimanding you," Hermione said, settling on the crook of George's arm. "I think, Fred would be disappointed, seeing you resort to this kind of pranks."

"No, 'Mione, you got it all mixed up, Fred would be laughing his arse off, if he's watching us wherever he is."

"Let me guess, you invented some sort of truth serum, that would bring about, a drinker's true emotions, once alcohol touches the drinker's lips, and it would only work with alcoholic beverages," Hermione said, then straightened up, only to smack George in the arm again. "You do not get to play with people's emotions!"

"Whoa! Hold on there, 'Mione, you got it wrong. It wasn't a truth serum, I would never—" George corrected the younger witch, "never touch that stuff. Years ago, Fred had this idea already, it only happened because of Lupin and Tonks. Bill and Charlie were there too, in order for us, to finally get the two of them to admit their feelings for each other, we needed to get them drunk. You are aware of the effects of alcohol don't you? Tonks, is a really good drinker, the tables were quickly turning on us, so Fred said, what if there was a potion to speed things up. In the end, the two of them got together without any help from us."

"So basically, it just brings out strongly whatever is already simpering beneath the surface."

"Correct."

"In other words, Ron wants to get plastered tonight, Harry and Ginny, I have nothing to say about that and Charlie really wants to take a swing at Percy."

"We all do, even just once, he's still that pompous stiff prat."

Hermione shook her head. "Fred had good intentions, although it goes the other way for you." Hermione drank again from her bottle, unaware that she had already finished half of it already.

George laughed at that, "Let's raise a toast to Fred then, cheers!"

"Cheers!" Hermione echoed.

"Now that's covered, so tell me what's it like?" The mood between them taking in a lighter note, George casually draped his arm around Hermione's shoulders so the brunette shifted her position and was about to settle comfortably on the crook of George's arm only to lean away for she could feel someone, burning holes on her back. George, also didn't miss those times, that Hermione would turn her head in Fleur's direction and was smiling inwardly again. It wasn't lost on the mischievous twin what had happened.

"Stop teasing me, I already have enough of that from Harry and Ron."

"That is exactly the reason why I'm teasing you."

If Hermione was appalled, she was having a hard time concealing it, so the only recourse she took was to take a long drink from the bottle of vodka she was holding and almost emptying it. "They bloody told you, I'm going to kill them."

"My galleons on you, they wouldn't stand a chance even they are Aurors." He chuckled.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Hermione stared at her almost empty bottle and began speaking to it. "back to your question, if you're asking about me dating, Fleur, the answer is no, why couldn't they get that through their thick heads?"

"That was not what I was asking, but since you mentioned it—"

"There's nothing to mention! Why couldn't you just asked me what I've been to or something similar?" Hermione retorted back, placing her almost empty bottle on the ground.

"As if you're going to tell me?" He raised an eyebrow.

"No, that's not possible, unless you want me to disintegrate."

George laughed. "No, although that would be interesting to see."

Hermione smacked George in the arm a third time and they both started laughing out loud. "Hey, I think Luna and Neville, just apparated in." Hermione said squinting at their apparation spot, were two figures just appeared. "You didn't invite everybody, did you?"

"Who me?" George said, feigning his classic look of innocence at the accusation in Hermione's voice. "Of course not, word just got around. Besides, about time, that bloke popped in, I've been waiting for him. Unlucky for you, I spotted you when you were sneaking your way in." He finished with a grin.

Hermione had an eyebrow raised. "Are you doing something illegal?"

"No, of course not, as if Longbottom would do something illegal."

"If it is a deal with you, then he might be, unknowingly, because of your trickery."

"Then don't ask," he grinned again and turned his attention on Neville. "Oi, Neville!"

Hermione just shook her head in amusement. She really couldn't blame George, even if he's acting cheery and all that, she knew that he misses Fred terribly. Of course, Hermione would never know what it would feel like losing a brother, since she was an only child, but the Weasleys always treated her and Harry as one of their own, and Hermione wasn't a stranger about the pain of losing a member of her family although not the way how George felt.

Being left alone, Hermione began to contemplate her own thoughts, her head was spinning from all the the thinking she had been doing that afternoon, and also from translating that runic texts on Beedle's manuscript. It would have been faster and easier if Beedle's handwriting wasn't messy and miniscule or she could have charmed herself to be able to speed read like Fleur could, but then again, there are no shortcuts in being able to do something like that, it's a skill acquired. She really needed to get some shut eye, her headache reaching to an almost intolerable level, but with a raucous crowd like this, and with George around to make sure, everybody was here, she doubted that very much. She could cast a powerful Silencing Charm or drink a very strong potion of Draught of the Living Death, or even placed a strong ward on her door, but as she had assessed earlier, those efforts would be rendered useless. She closed her eyes for a moment, for she was really feeling light-headed, fully aware that she didn't do herself any favors by almost finishing the bottle of vodka George had given her. With her eyes closed, she willed her thoughts to shift to something else aside from Fleur, to be content to rest for awhile and to listen to the music playing. George had thought of everything, making the music play loudly, but if one were to engaged in a conversation, one could hear themselves and the other over the music. Hermione leaned back on the bean bag and stretched her legs before her, now fully enjoying listening to The Weird Sisters, liking the softer tempo and rhythm that the song had turned into. She was swaying her head now to the beat of music as the song was nearing its end. A new track then began playing, she mused that this was a different kind of music from The Weird Sisters, noting the haunting goth like quality of it rather than their usual loud rock genre.

As soon as the guitar intro kicked in, with Hermione's eyes closed, she let the music take her over. At first it was just her head swaying to the rhythm and then her foot tapping and then eventually her body waving like silk and moving in time with the music. It was as if all her sensibility had left her and in its place a new side had taken over. A more primal and sensual one, something that she had forgotten a long time ago and was now being remembered. She half opened her eyes, stood up and began dancing and moving in a way she never did before. Understanding the meaning of the song, the song of two people, one hiding her emotions, while the other one telling her to let them go and release it or else they will end up driving each other into insanity. She let her body tell all this, not caring whether all eyes were upon her. She did not think of what her friends will say to her or how they will react seeing her like this, well hey, she could always blame it on the potion that George had mixed with the alcohol afterwards, since George had charmed all of their drinks anyway. Hermione betting, that George would never tell his brothers, sister and friends that he was testing out a product on them, not unless he would want them to get even with him.

Hermione was now twirling and swaying in an alluring fashion. A trance-like feeling was quickly falling in the atmosphere which was emanating from her movements. Her breathing even, her body flowing like water and moving in perfect harmony with the haunting melody of the music, her hips moving in a languid mesmerizing way, her face full of mystery and sultriness as well as an intense passion so deep that she wasn't even aware was there. It was as if she was not dancing to the music but the music dancing her. This hidden part of Hermione's was now in full revelation, conveying to the outside world that it wants to be noticed. She began to whirl round and round matching the rhythm of the song that had started slow but was now pulsating faster and faster and then coming to a halt. Hermione was breathing hard, her hair looking windswept, her eyes fully open and was staring directly at Fleur a hand held out, inviting, beckoning the veela, compelling it to join her dance. Dance with me. Dance with me, Fleur. If Hermione was conscious that she even thought of it, Hermione would never know.

If Hermione had known, that she had captured the attention of everyone around her, Hermione would have stopped. But she didn't, at that time, everything had seemed to fade and the only thing that Hermione can see was Fleur. Hermione saw through the haze of the enchantment that she herself had created, that someone had tried to dissuade the veela, didn't they know that it was futile to do so, once the veela was roused? Hermione smiled seductively as Fleur laced her fingers with her, an arm snaking around Hermione's waist pulling her close, claiming her. The trance-like feel that Hermione had induced, had now transformed to something bewitching when Fleur joined her storytelling. For that was what they was doing, telling the story of the music with their bodies. Hermione had no real consciousness of what was happening either, it was like she had fully surrendered to this unfamiliar force, for she only felt it when Fleur spun her around a hand never leaving her waist, but still holding her close, her back pressed intimately on Fleur's front. Hermione felt it when a hand strayed exploring her upper body as if laying claim to it where no man had ever done before. She felt it when the hand on her waist went down to her thighs and then brushed her skirt up, exploring the skin underneath there where no man had ever gone before. She felt it when this other storyteller, Fleur, moved in exactly the same way as her, but not copying her, but rather complementing her and completing her story in a way she would exactly want it to be completed. It was a dance so captivating and enchanting that they had induced a possessive, present yet ethereal power that made whoever was watching fall under their spell.

Hermione did not really care the rhyme and reason that time, but all she felt was that she was found, that she was seen and that that she was complete. If Fate had a hand in this, Hermione didn't really care to find out, all she knew was that, this was how it was supposed to be, this is where and who she belonged to. Hermione was once again spun around as the music was nearing its end. Their bodies almost melding into one, that Hermione didn't know where her body ends, and where Fleur begins. Her chocolate brown orbs meeting with what were once deep blue eyes, as blue as the deepest part of the ocean whose depths she could not even begin to fathom, but has now turned so dark which Hermione found beautiful in its purity.

Intense heat were radiating from both their bodies, faces almost touching, their eyes both searching for answers to questions that were never dared asked, noses grazing, lips almost kissing. Hermione's heart was pounding heavily inside her chest, fearing that Fleur's veela senses could hear it. She could almost feel the kiss coming, but something felt vaguely wrong. Her eyes were feeling heavy, she felt the blackness coming in fast to claim her and the last thing she saw before closing her eyes to succumbed to the darkness, was Fleur's beautiful and exquisite face, her eyes returning back to their normal hues, were contorted in so much agony as if she could do nothing to save Hermione from the onslaught of Fate's deathly hold.

This has happened before, what are you keeping from me Fleur? Please, don't be sad. These were Hermione's last thoughts, before falling into that dark pit of nothingness, not ever realizing that the bewitching spell that had fallen over them was broken.