Golden Haze: Act One, Scene Change Two - Interlude
AN: So... what was that about wanting to know what poor Hermione was going through? ehehehehe. Enjoy.
The response from last chapter was INCREDIBLE. You guys own. I will try and answer all your reviews within the next day or so.
Music of the Story: Shiny Toy Guns
It had taken her a week and a half, but Hermione Granger was finally triumphant. Well, triumphant to a certain degree, as there was still a language barrier between herself and the truth. A language that she did not speak and could not read. The offending document had been inserted into a book about spellwork done by magical creatures (call it a hunch on Hermione's part) and how some spells that would be perfectly innocent to a human caster but changed in implication when cast by one with creature blood. Fleur Delacour was part veela.
"Why, in all the languages in the world, does the ONE piece of information I need have to be written in Bulgarian?" she muttered darkly, staring at the pamphlet in her hand angrily. The name of the spell that had been cast upon her was carefully written in English characters along the top of the page in Madame Pince's neat and precise hand – the rest of the document was in Cyrillic. She had found it deep within the Restricted Section of the library after McGonagall had given her what was essentially a free pass to use it as she saw fit.
Hermione had to know. She had to know the truth in what Fleur Delacour with her long blond hair and intriguing accent had done to her on the second day of her class. She had to know why she kept waking up with her hand down her pants rubbing furiously at an ache that would not cease after dreaming of a lover that she could not even describe in words; a female lover, of that much Hermione was sure, and a very beautiful one at that. She had to know why her vision was tinged gold whenever she looked at Fleur Delacour now.
The Adamor Curse, as she had found in one of her professor's books that had been so graciously loaned to her, was a confusion spell that was more common in usage among women than men. Men apparently had trouble controlling the directionality and intent of the spell where women were far more practiced in their attack. It was supposed to bombard the mind with images created from the caster's own darkest dreams - they were not, as far as Hermione could tell, supposed to be sexual at all.
But what she had seen, oh god what she had seen. She had known that veela were sexual creatures, Fleur had admitted that much to Hermione herself, but the extent to which their sexual desires apparently went was mind boggling. She was filled with that need, after falling into Fleur's twisted spell, and nothing could satisfy it.
God only knew she'd tried.
She frowned at the pamphlet again and tried to push the thoughts out of her mind. Fleur was married, and no matter how farcical the marriage obviously was, it was not good to be fantasizing about another man's wife. She didn't know where the thoughts had come from, only that she was constantly on edge now. Especially in Defense class. She had taken to participating as little as possible, as she hated it when Fleur Delacour looked at her with those haunted blue, blue eyes.
Hermione couldn't look away then. Her kickers would grow wet just thinking about that stare.
"Bulgarian," she muttered again, tapping the pamphlet with hopes that a translation spell would work in her favor - it wouldn't. It only worked with Latin-alphabet based documents (naturally.) and Cyrillic was far more complicated a language for such an elementary spell. She had thought in passing, to look up the correct translation spell until Ron had mentioned that Ireland had lost to Bulgaria in the round of 8 for the Quidditch World Cup playoffs. The Bulgarian national team (and its seeker) would be playing England on Saturday – which made up Hermione's mind for her.
Hermione Granger knew exactly one person (that she was on speaking terms with) who spoke Bulgarian, but she couldn't think of a reasonable way to write him a letter and ask him to please translate this damn pamphlet so that she could figure out what else the Adamor Curse had apparently done to her. It had to have done something else. She had never been so sexually frustrated in her entire life.
She set her bag down on a table in the far corner of the library and hastily scrawled a note out to her once-love-interest-oft-penpal:
Dear Viktor,
I know that it's been a while, but I was wondering if you'd be willing to help me with something that I'm researching for Defense Class. (Yes, I went back to Hogwarts since your last letter and I am truly sorry it's taken me so long to get back to you.) This spell came up in discussion and this is all that I could find on it outside of a textbook that does not have the clearest definition. I've found a document that could potentially help me but I'm hopeless with your language so I've enclosed a copy of it in the envelope. Please help me if you can. It means a lot to me.
What do you make of it? Would you mind giving me the general gist of it?
How was your match against the Irish national team? You have England next right? I shall abandon queen and county and cheer for you when we listen to it on the wizarding wireless Saturday.
Hermione.
It sounded... reasonable. Not assuming too much and certainly not discounting the fact that she had been a horrible penpal throughout the past year. That was her own fault – but there was a war on and it wasn't exactly like she had had days upon days of doing nothing (she had) to write to him. Everything felt so much more complicated now, to be back at Hogwarts but very clearly an adult. The dichotomy bothered Hermione.
Viktor's response came far more promptly than Hermione had possibly hoped. The school owl that had carried her letter south to an undisclosed location where the Bulgarian team was practicing before their much-anticipated (according to Ron, Ginny and Harry) match against England flew into the Great Hall on the tail of the owl delivering Hermione's daily edition of The Daily Prophet.
When the owl dropped the rather thick envelope on her head, Hermione tore into it eagerly. She hoped that Viktor had not troubled himself too respond to her so quickly (she honestly had not expected a response until after the match on Saturday) and unfolded his note with anxious fingers.
Viktor's written English had always been much more comprehensible than his English, even if he sometimes wrote letters backwards as was the way of writing them in his own native tongue.
Hermione –
I do not have very much time to write this, so I will perform the enclosed translation spell (see the papers attached to your pamphlet) and return this to you with my thanks for your well-wishes for the match on Saturday. I did not realize that you still followed Quidditch, but I suppose that with friends like Harry Potter (who could play professionally if he was so inclined) you are at least around the sport of champions on occasion.
This spell is a terrible one, Hermione, if cast by a veela upon one she feels a connection to only. Other than that it is no more dangerous than a simple confusion charm that a child could perform before entering school. Perhaps a little more unique than one would commonly expect in dueling, but an effective way to end such an engagement.
How did you even come across such a spell? Please write me back and tell me that you have not been either dueling or dueling veelas – you deserve peace now, the time for dueling is over. How is Hogwarts now, is it still as full of insanity as it was during my time there?
Before you say anything, your wish of good luck to me for Saturday's match is more than enough thanks for this simple help with my complicated language.
Yours,
Viktor
He had signed the paper much like he probably signed numerous autographs for adoring fans, messily and with a flourish that Hermione had never stopped being impressed by. It was sweet of him to be so concerned for her well-being, but she did appreciate his respectful tone and avoidance of the 'dueling is a man's art' argument that Hermione had encountered a great deal over the summer when she had attempted to join various dueling clubs in London.
She flipped past the pages (obviously duplicated out of a spell text book) that Viktor had attached to her pamphlet and began to read the newly translated pamphlet – all the while painfully aware of the deep blue eyes of Fleur Delacour that were trained on her every movement.
She swallowed, desperately trying to not think about those eyes – so obviously roaming over her body. Hermione wanted more than eyes roaming over her body, she wanted this spell and it's lingering effects to go away – she wanted the release that she craved but could not achieve.
An Announcement for Veela and those who have Veela Ancestry:
It is recommended that those who have even a drop of veela blood avoid using the Adamornor spell all together. Recent incidents have concluded that when used upon those who share deep connections to a veela – usually romantic connections – that the effects of the spell are far more far-reaching than the recorded effects of this spell…