Golden Haze, Act One, Scene Six
AN: With regards to Fleur's music choices, I did not want to impose my taste in music on her too much (otherwise she'd be buying Cake albums or the Spice Girls – which would actually be cutting edge and modern in 1998 when the story takes place – but also not classy enough for one as awesome as Fleur) but rather stuck to popular music from that day and age that was a little bit dated (per the fact that she has a record player), but also in keeping with what I believe to be her music tastes.
Music of the story: The Beatles – Strawberry Fields Forever and Susumu Hirasawa – Paprika Original Soundtrack
Saturday morning at breakfast, Fleur received another of the notes that she had grown somewhat accustomed to finding tucked into her food, inconspicuous and oh-so-cleverly placed. She wondered if Hermione knew some of the elves who worked in the kitchens, as she was far too skilled at getting notes to Fleur without an owl.
Meet me by the main doors at three. Bring muggle money if you have any, we're going to a place where you might want to buy something. If you don't we can stop by Gringotts but I'd rather not if at all possible as the goblins hate me for what I did during the war. - H
Apparently they were not simply having an excursion to Hogsmeade as she had initially anticipated when Hermione had asked her on this outing. Rereading the note, Fleur thought it adorable how Hermione had apparently forgotten that one could change over muggle money at the Owl Post office in Hogsmeade. She was still so new to this world, Fleur reminded herself and Hermione still possessed a naiveté about the way things worked within the wizarding world that was full of youthful innocence that Fleur knew Hermione no longer possessed. None of them were innocent any more, though, the war had seen to that.
Fleur retreated to her rooms after breakfast and a long look at the pointed lack of Hermione Granger at the Gryffindor breakfast table. Ginny Weasley gave her what Fleur supposed was intended to be a friendly smile but it looked more like an upwards-turned grimace. The lone Weasley daughter had never liked Fleur very much, despite Fleur's rather desperate attempts to integrate herself with the Weasley family when she and William were first beginning their 'relationship.' Ginny had probably seen through her very obvious play acting back then. She had become a much better actress since those first meetings, or at lease she hoped that she had.
She smiled back at Ginny and nodded to Harry Potter who was sitting next to his girlfriend and grinning at her in a way that said entirely too much about what he knew of the situation. Fleur was going to have to talk to Hermione about that – until she and William figured out what they were going to do about their lack of attraction to each other despite being married, it was not a good idea to share the fact that they were going on a date with the world.
Still, it was encouraging that Hermione was willing to talk to her friends about what was going on between herself and Fleur. The wizarding world was not entirely accepting of such relationships, but there were no restrictions placed upon them like there were in the muggle world. Her mother, once upon a time when the American muggle government had passed such a completely ludicrous law that it made the French wizarding newspapers, had said that muggle attitude towards love was horrible and that they all needed a lesson in passion. Fleur had chosen to ignore her at that point in time, wishing that she was not destined to suffer the same scorn.
It was so strange to think that she was finally coming to a point in her life where she was moving forward for her own personal benefit. Fleur still felt completely out of control when she was around Hermione, the veela pressing up against every aspect of her human nature, urging her to take, to touch, to pillage and leave no figment of doubt in Hermione's mind about the nature of this attraction Fleur felt.
Veela love was possessive and powerful and it scared Fleur to death. Her life had barely even started when she had first become aware of the powerful and maddening attraction that her veela heritage was able to inflict upon her. And this was despite the careful control that she had built up over years of practice. Meeting Hermione Granger at eighteen had been a foolish act of chance, and had the Triwizard Tournament not brought them inexplicably together, Fleur knew that she would be feeling another form of madness now – the kind that is akin to pressing loneliness. Veela cannot live without their destined one, but until they become aware of who that destined one is, there is a void in their hearts that nothing could fill. They could not date, or seek the comfort of another, they were simply alone.
She sighed loudly; glad that she at least was aware of who her destined one was – even if she did not want to accept the consequences of fully committing to that relationship. Loving a magical creature – even one with diluted blood like Fleur's – was difficult and unpleasant at times. Hermione probably did not know what she was getting into. Fleur had yet to find the time or the words to tell her.
Fleur spent the remainder of the morning grading fifth-year essays on the principles of offensive versus defensive magic and how defense spells could also be used on the offensive. It was boring, and many essays simply rehashed the same bland tone and key points that she had lectured about the week before. Those who chose to discuss and debate what she had talked about in class received Exceeds Expectations, all the other essays were somewhere between Dreadful and Passing – thankfully for this particular class, there were no Trolls. She did not want to assign more work to make them understand that their lamentable performance was unacceptable.
As the afternoon began to set in, Fleur found herself standing in her bathroom, wet from the bath staring at her reflection with hesitant eyes. She tried to avoid looking at herself in the mirror naked like this – she felt self-conscious and confused as to what everyone found so damn enticing about her. She was rather average looking she thought, with split ends, and a birthmark on her hip that her mother had always said was a carry-over from the fact that she was only part veela instead of full blooded. They were not the perfect creature their ancestor was, and their bodies had to reflect that – marred in some way to differentiate their tainted blood from that of the pure veela.
Still, Fleur felt thoroughly and completely boring – certainly not the veela sex goddess that many of the male youth at the school had obviously (per their vacant stares in her presence, among other things) come to think of her as. She liked music and loved to read and was a little too passionate about the French national quidditch team – this was hardly sex goddess material.
She picked her wand and preformed a simple water extraction charm and directed the blob of liquid that she had just pulled from her hair into the sink with a practiced flick. She had no idea how to dress for Hermione's outing, and she knew that they were certainly not going to be spending their time in Hogsmeade which suggested that she dress a little nicer.
Making her way across her bedroom to her closet, Fleur grumbled as she contemplated different outfits. It was cold, she was naked, Hermione Granger was doing her damnedest to play mind games and make Fleur over think things (as if you don't already). After about twenty minutes of shivering she finally decided on a skirt and a pale blue button up top. She did not want to dress too provocatively on the first date, but she could not resist pulling on a pair of tights and her entirely too-impractical-for-her-line-of-work boots. She loved those boots, having found them for the deal of the century in muggle Paris a few months into her studying for her Mastery. These were the boots that William had dubbed 'fuck me boots' the first time he'd seen them in a joking way that Fleur at the time did not quite understand but now found the perfect reason and occasion to wear.
At a few minutes before three, she pulled on her lightest jacket (it had been sunny and unseasonably warm for the past several days) and warded her door with the usual mix of English and French jinxes that would both alert her to intruders as well as do all manner of unspeakable things them should the attempt to force their way inside. She debated adding a blood boiling curse that she'd learned in Egypt for a moment before deciding that it was a little to excessive (not to mention a little dark) to use in a school. In a place as safe as Hogwarts there wasn't much point using such spells, but old habits die hard and Fleur was nothing if not a creature of habit.
The entrance hall, antechamber to the Great Hall where they took their meals, was almost devoid of people when Fleur finally arrived at the top of the main staircase into the heart of the castle. A few Hufflepuffs were chatting at the base of the stairs, glancing uncertainly at her as she trotted down the stars as quickly as her boots would allow. Fleur smiled politely at them, wondering if she should say something about how loitering in the hallways was against school rules. She thought better of it after they turned their attention back to each other and continued on, looking for Hermione.
At first Fleur did not see her; and then, suddenly, Hermione was there. She stood by the door out of the castle with a small and private smile on her face, waving ever so slightly as she caught sight of Fleur.
Fleur's mouth fell open (She is so beautiful. You should not deny yourself.) and she could not find the mental fortitude to close it as she stared openly at the girl, her knees suddenly a little weak with the nervous of what she was doing.
Hermione had done something with her hair to calm it down from its normal state of frizziness, it now fell around her shoulders with a gentle curl. It looks amazing, and oh so soft. Fleur wanted to touch it. Swallowing, Fleur reached the bottom of the stairs and crossed the Entrance Hall with a purposeful stride that she hoped would not betray her nervousness.
(Coward.)
If you don't have the confidence, fake it.
She had dressed up, like Fleur had, and Hermione looked stunning. She was wearing a black summer dress that was bordering on inappropriate for the weather and a grey cardigan that Fleur had seen her wear many times before – it had to be a favorite of hers. Fleur wondered if Hermione even realized how beautiful she looked in low heels and a short dress. Fleur struggled the find the words to tell her, but they would not come. The veela was pressing against her consciousness, settling in a golden haze of indecisive nervousness and very distracted thoughts of taking that dress off of Hermione Granger's body and having her dirty way with the girl.
"Hi," Hermione said quietly (probably to not draw attention to herself ) as Fleur drew level with her, stopping a careful distance away so as to not overwhelm her senses.
"Salut," Fleur responded with a smile. Her mind was full of thoughts of that dress and those heals and how much she wanted to see Hermione out of them and in her bed. She swallowed again, suddenly even more nervous and very much unsure of how to act now that they were together. The anticipation of with might happen was filling her every sense, driving logical and sane (human) thoughts from her mind. She debated what to say for a few anxious and drawn out seconds before tapping her finger against her chin and asking with a playful smile, "Are you going to tell me where we are going, 'ermione?"
Hermione stuck out her bottom lip and folded her arms across her chest. "It's a surprise." She said testily – as though she could not believe Fleur had the audacity to ask.
The both started to move towards the door at the same time, Fleur opening the half-door that was more often used when only a few people were passing in and out of the castle for Hermione. "Alright," she shrugged as Hermione passed under her arm and Fleur closed the door behind them.
She liked surprises as long as there were no explosions or having to create blood wards on short notice. She had had to do that once, and it had been such an unpleasant experience that William still jokes about it on occasion. Fleur had apparently (she denied it to this day) been so overwhelmed and stressed out over the idea of using such powerful and complicated magic that she had let out a string of expletives that even the goblins they were working with had been very impressed. It took a lot to impress goblins and in her moments of complete honesty with herself, Fleur was rather proud that she'd managed to make such an impression on their goblin friends.
The day was cooler now, but no so cold that it was uncomfortable, but the temperature was noticeable and Fleur hoped that Hermione would be warm enough in that dress that was too short and showed too much leg and was driving Fleur mad with wanting to feel Hermione's soft skin underneath her fingertips once more. "You look very nice."
Hermione glanced sideways at Fleur, her eyes moving from Fleur's boots upwards in a long and drawn out gesture that Fleur was not quite sure how to react to. She was used to being checked out, usually with far more lewd looks than the one that Hermione was giving her, but she had never so self-conscious about it before. Hermione's eyes lingered on her chest for a moment before meeting Fleur's eyes with a brown-eyed even stare and a flirty smile. "So do you," she said.
Coughing, her cheeks a little red at the compliment (what was she, fifteen and in love for the first time? Child, please), Fleur protested, "Please, these boots are wonderful, yes, but 'ardly practical."
Laughing, Hermione pressed on down the path towards the main gates. She was moving far more confidence that Fleur had, as the heels she was wearing were far wider and afforded her more sure footing down the rather slippery path towards Hogsmeade. "They're nice though. I'd kill myself in heels that high," Hermione said after a moment.
Fleur kept her eyes on the ground, but the time for that was almost over, for the path had already started to level out. "If one practices, it is not so hard to walk," She shrugged, mentally berating herself for not quite getting the point across. Her English had improved in leaps and bounds since she'd come here and had started to spend time with William's family – but it was still poor in comparison to her French. Sometimes Fleur felt as though she could not even say what she meant in French, but this was different. She sounded like an idiot. She sighed quietly, she had to move on, sometimes mistakes happened.
(She likes your muggle boots and the way your skirt hugs your ass, you should pay more attention to how she looks at you and less on the barrier of language. Love is a language everyone speaks.) With that comment Fleur gave up on the veela altogether and used as much of her skill at removing that particular aspect of her personality from her consciousness to remove the commentary from her mind. She was going to do this her way, thank you very much.
They had reached the flat and well-traveled path to Hogsmeade now, and were walking side by side. Fleur glanced sideways at Hermione, before throwing caution into the wind and announcing, "I must say, 'ermione, that I did not think you would be the one to initiate an outing with me."
Hermione blinked at her before looking sheepishly down at the ground. Behind her tamed hair, Fleur could see a blush on Hermione's cheeks. "Gryffindor courage, I suppose," Hermione mumbled. She bit her lip, chewing on it thoughtfully (please do not do that, beautiful one, chapped lips are not fun to kiss) before adding, "I wanted to talk to you without the distractions of school."
The veela was back, causing problems, almost as soon as Fleur had pushed it out of her consciousness. This was going to be a long day if she did not gain control of herself soon. "Oh?" she asked, raising her eyebrows questioningly, "And what did you want to talk to me about?"
"Oh, nothing in particular," Hermione said airily, looking up at the ominous clouds above them and quickening her pace. They were almost at the gates now and with them the edge of the anti-apparation wards where Fleur assumed that they would then continue on to wherever Hermione had in mind for their excursion together.
As they walked, Hermione's hands brushed against Fleur's, and their fingers laced together almost effortlessly. Her hand felt good there, comforted by the warmth of Hermione's and the flush that covered both of their cheeks. She was thinking of what to say, to ask why Hermione had reached out to take her hand, when they passed though the main gates of the school. Hermione exhaled quietly and Fleur, quite suddenly, felt the familiar pull at the pit of her stomach that accompanied apparation.
It was considered incredibly rude in proper wizarding society to side-along apparate without warning, as the experience was often jarring. Fleur allowed herself to be pulled along by Hermione's strong grip on her hand and prayed that she would not get splitched. Hermione was still young, she'd had her apparation license for just barely two years now, this could very easily go wrong.
And yet the veela was impressed, again, by the magical prowess that Hermione was putting on display. It hummed contentedly as Fleur's stomach settled as they landed in what was apparently a dirty and dark alleyway. (She is powerful; she will make a good mate.)
Tais-toi. Fleur thought violently as the smell of city hit her nose in a wave of muggle car exhaust and rotting trash. She wrinkled her nose and surveyed their landing spot, noting the fact that the pictures on the discarded and crumpled up newspapers did not move and faded posters on the walls advertized bands and products that she had never heard of. "We are in London," She said with a low whistle. Hermione had apparated them a lot further than Fleur would have been comfortable with in one jump. Usually when traveling such distances, one did several short apparations in order to conserve magical energy. "Muggle London."
Hermione had let go of her hand the instant that they had landed and Fleur was lamenting the loss of its warmth despite the warmer temperature here. "Yes," she said, turning and beginning to walk towards the end of the alleyway. She had looked uncomfortable for a moment before her face became once again a neutral expression of quiet interest. Fleur wondered if Hermione felt the same way about cities that she did after the Battle for Hogwarts – the constant assault of light and noise brought back memories that Fleur would rather forget.
Fleur hurried after her, the question on her lips before she really even thought about how foolish it sounded, "Why?"
Hermione shrugged, taking a right and beginning to weave her way through the crowds of late-afternoon shoppers. "I wanted to take you somewhere nice, where we wouldn't be seen by the press."
"You seem to be taking lessons in avoiding the press from 'arry," Fleur had finally caught up with Hermione and they fell into step once again. It was odd, to be in a place so foreign and alien to wizarding kind, with people talking on large contraptions with antennae on top while not really paying attention to where they were walking. Fleur wondered how out of place she looked in her wizarding casual clothing. Hermione certainly blended in more than Fleur did, as Fleur was already starting to get the vacant stares that her veela heritage apparently warranted.
She hated the stares, and shifted self-consciously next to Hermione as they waited to cross a street that was currently full of muggle cars and buses. Finally the cars stopped and Hermione marched briskly across the street, Fleur clicking along right after her. Given her magical skill, it was sometimes easy to forget that Hermione Granger was muggle born and that this rather than the bustle of the wizarding quarters of the city was her native element. Fleur had no idea how to act around muggles – thinking that keeping her eyes intent on Hermione was probably her best way to making through this without embarrassing herself.
Hermione turned as soon as they crossed the street, cutting around a street vendor and heading down the less-crowded side street that they had just crossed. She had relaxed a little with fewer people around; the tenseness of her shoulders had dissipated some. (Not that Fleur was looking.) "He was the one who suggested we stick to muggle London so as to avoid the press, so yes."
How much did she tell them? Fleur thought, worried visions of Ronald Weasley (or Ginny, but Fleur trusted Harry Potter to keep his mouth shut.) running to his mother and ruining their careful plan filling her mind. She would have to ask Hermione to keep some aspects of their relationship to herself – she did not want to blow William's cover if at all possible.
As the muggle shoppers began to thin out, Fleur could not help but ask, "Then where are we going?" It seemed like they were just walking at this point. Walking in impossibly high heels and short dresses that were both serving as excellent distractions to Fleur's already clouded mind.
Smiling, Hermione pointed at a flashing sign, "There."
The sign read 'downstairs disks' in curling neon script and on it was painted an LP that peaked Fleur's interests. Records? She thought, surely not in muggle London. She followed Hermione down the steps and through the door (whose bell jingled over the soft music that was playing through some disembodied speaker) to find herself in a musical heaven. She inhaled, quietly, not wanting to seem as though she'd never been in a store like this before (she hadn't) and bit her tongue to prevent herself from dropping to one knee and asking Hermione to marry her right then and there.
At Fleur's gleeful smile, Hermione blushed and ran a hand through her hair. "I um… noticed that you had a gramophone but not a lot of records, and thought maybe you could find some more music here."
"Records are 'ard to find in ze wizarding world and I zought zey are out of vogue dese days in ze muggle world – 'ow does a place like zis exist?" Fleur asked excitedly, speaking quickly. Her accent was far more pronounced now, as she was not actively concentrating on it not being as thick.
"People still listen to them." Hermione said, taking Fleur by the arm and steering her towards the back of the store where shelves upon shelves of records were carefully organized by genre and artist name. The paused in front of the 'b' section and Hermione continued in a low voice, "Well at least my dad does, he showed me this store the summer before my fifth year when he was on a quest for this particular Rolling Stones vinyl."
Fleur, having heard of the Rolling Stones from William's muggleborn friends, nodded. "'ermione, you are amazing," She proclaimed, leaning down to kiss Hermione's bright red cheek. She lingered a second, inhaling her scent, before pulling back and watching as Hermione turned her attention to the shelves before them, her cheeks bright red.
It was strange, to be in this store, surrounded by so much music. Fleur had no idea where to start in her selections, she wanted to buy everything. She was so grateful to Hermione that she did not know how to put her feelings into words. She wanted to tell her how much she had longed to be able to listen to the music that her muggle born friends had listened to on their portable devices (Beauxbatons did not have the restrictions on muggle devices that Hogwarts did – and many still worked on school grounds) but she had always lacked the technology to do so. Now, with her gramophone and some of these records she could finally catch up.
She found would appeared to be a brand new record still wrapped in its plastic with a French title that looked intriguing – the boy behind the counter had told her that it was a fast seller and she was lucky to have found it on vinyl as they were just about sold out of the limited first run of the album. Fleur hoped the money she'd paid for Pink Martini had been worth it, but judging by the sample that she'd been able to listen to on one of those strange muggle listening devices, it certainly would.
Let me take you down, 'cause I'm going to, strawberry fields…
The music that had been playing quietly in the background caught her ear and she made her way over to where Hermione was reading the back of an album called 'Rebel Yell' and muttering about looking for a different B-Side track listing.
"What song is this 'ermione?" Fleur asked, tucking her record under her arm. "It is very good. And 'ow do you say… catchy?"
Hermione nodded, "It's The Beatles."
Fleur frowned, having never heard of that band. Were they muggle, or more of a local group? "Are they new? I 'ave never heard of them."
"You… you what?" From Hermione's incredulous tone, Fleur could tell that she was a fan of the band, to say the lease.
"They are new, non?" Fleur liked to think that she was as on top of the hip music of their day and age as much as one could be with wizarding blood and no way to operate the more modern and entirely confounding music players that muggles favored.
"Hardly, they're probably the most popular band ever. Michael Jackson is up there, as is Queen, but The Beatles are the best." Hermione stared at her, eyes wide with disbelief. "You've really never heard of them?"
"Non." Fleur felt silly and as though she had missed out on something of vast cultural importance to Hermione. "They did not catch on at 'ome."
"Or in the wizarding world at all, apparently." Hermione lead her over to the 'B' section of the store and began to flip through the records, muttering to herself about how unbelievably ridiculous it was that Fleur had never heard of them.
Fleur pulled a battered and obviously well-loved copy of The Beatle's Let it Be, from the shelf and flipped it over to read the back of the record. They were rather … hairy men, she mused, but their voices, if the song on the store's music player was anything to go by, were quite lovely.
"You shouldn't get that one." Hermione had pulled a few albums from the shelf and was contemplating the album in Fleur's hands.
"Why not?" Fleur asked, taking the albums that Hermione handed to her and looking at their covers with interest.
"It's their most mainstream album. I'd go earlier, like The White Album or Sergeant Pepper's, they're both much better in my opinion – happier too."
Fleur grinned, "I did not realize that you 'ad such opinions on these things." It was cute, how excited Hermione was getting. It was a different side of her that Fleur had never seen.
"I find the fact that you have never listened to The Beatles despite growing up within spitting distance of the UK lamentable," Hermione said, taking Let it Be and putting it back on the shelf along with Help! (one of the two that Hermione had handed her a few minutes before). The final album was simply called The Beatles, which Hermione took from Fleur's rather alarmed hands with a flourish. She turned and marched to the counter, pulled some muggle money out of her cardigan pocket and paid for it before turning around and coming to stand in front of Fleur. "Wizarding household or no," she said quietly, handing her the album.
"Well," Fleur said in the most affronted voice she could muster as she tucked the album into the bag that she'd received with her own purchase. "Excusez-moi."
Hermione laughed and Fleur playfully pushed her shoulder. "Thank you," she said.
"It's nothing." Hermione shook her head, "I am fixing a tragic wrong."
Fleur sighed. And to think that she had felt cultured for knowing who The Rolling Stones were.
They made their way out of the store, smiling at each other with close guarded looks – the sort that Fleur had come to know as two people trying to deny their attraction to each other. Her vision as thankfully clear – the veela digesting what Hermione had done, to buy her a gift spontaneously like that.
"Are you hungry?"
Fleur shrugged. "A little," She said. Truth be told, she was still a little too nervous to entertain the thought of food.
"I am too. I had to eat really early today, doing this to my hair takes hours," she grinned sheepishly, toying with a lock of hair. "It's why I don't do it every day."
"It looks lovely." Fleur told her earnestly.
"Thanks." Hermione said with bright smile. She glanced around at their surroundings before scooting closer to Fleur and asking seriously. "What do you want to eat?"
Fleur grinned, an idea forming in her mind. She trailed a finger down Hermione's cheek – relishing in the fact that she was so close. "I think you know the answer to that," she said coyly with a rather suggestive raise of her eyebrows.
"F-Fleur!" Hermione backed away, her cheeks red and her eyes wide. Fleur smiled at her, the veela thrilled that she was flirting on her own.
An idea struck her, then. A place where they could go to eat and would be left alone to talk; she did know a place that would be practically abandoned at this hour – up north near where she and William had worked for several weeks on a dig with Gringotts. The only drawback was it was also a place that held bad memories for Fleur and she was not entirely sure she wanted to go back there.
(Go, she'll thank you for the sandwich.)
"'ermione, do you trust me?" Fleur asked, closing the distance between the in two short steps.
"Y-Yes." Hermione's eyes were uncertain, but her jaw was set in a resolute line. Fleur did not think that she was stuttering because of anxiety, but rather the intensity with which Fleur had asked the question. It was good, she was glad Hermione trusted her.
Fleur held out her hand, offering it freely to Hermione, "Take my 'and."
Hermione's palm was sweaty in her own, and Fleur's fingers brushed against something hard under the sleeve of the cardigan Hermione was wearing. A wand holster, with a strong disillusion spell on it, as Fleur had not noticed it before it had come into contact with her fingers quite by chance – clever girl. Fleur knew what Hermione had been through when she had been taken, Harry Potter had had her wand then, and she was defenseless. She wondered if the wand up her sleeve was even her true wand, or if it was a spare, one to have in case of emergencies. Fleur's own was shoved down her boot, along with a knife that she'd bought in Egypt the last time she and William had traveled there for work. Sometimes muggle forms of protection were more effective than wands and William had taught her how to throw that knife with deadly precision. There was very little else to do late at night while sitting around old tombs of dead wizards waiting for goblins to finally okay their entrance.
There were still supporters of The Dark Lord around and they were still out for blood. The ministry, if Arthur Weasley was to be believed (and Fleur had no reason to distrust him), had been doggedly hunting down the last of his supporters and putting them on trial as best they could – but it would probably take years to round them all up. They were like shadows at times, hiding behind layers of masks and half-truths and claims of the Imperious curse. It was better to have a wand up your sleeve than to be caught in the middle of Muggle London unawares.
They stood there for a moment, Fleur's left hand clasped tightly around Hermione's right, just staring at each other. It was odd to do this, to hold hands in a dirty alley way, in a completely alien environment. Fleur felt uncomfortable, as though there were eyes on her from every direction. She was not used to the constant light and noise- it reminded her far too much of the war. She had avoided London and her beloved Paris in favor of smaller towns to avoid the memories of those horrible days.
Hermione's breath brushed against Fleur's cheek as Fleur turned her head ever so slightly and put what she hoped was her best smile on. "Are you ready?" She asked, knowing how unpleasant side-along apparation could be if one was not expecting it. It was nice, being so close to Hermione, to feel her pressed up against her and their clasped hands joining their bodies. Fleur could smell something in the air, she wasn't sure what it was but it smelled of desire and of lust – smells that she (the veela, Fleur the witch was more uncertain and not entirely sure how to act when confronted by such things) liked coming from Hermione.
"Yes." Hermione nodded, and squeezed Fleur's hand gently. It felt good, to have Hermione's hand there, the veela was happy and Fleur felt as though she was high on a potion that brought about complete euphoria. Her vision clouded with the veela's desire, the golden haze filled her vision and Fleur was amazingly content to let it wash over her. This was an amazing feeling, and she never wanted it to end.
As she squeezed her eyes shut tightly, Fleur had a passing thought that maybe this was what it felt like to completely accept her veela heritage and to be one with herself as her mother was constantly nagging her to do. It was a strange concept, but one that she would dwell on when she had time to actually think about it, rather than when she was about to apparate two people and did not want to be in danger of splitching anyone. She forced all other thoughts from her mind and concentrated on the small grove of trees behind the place she had in mind. They would be alone there, the muggles who ran the shop tended to stay away from the woods.
They vanished with the familiar and oh-so-uncomfortable tug of the navel as well as the harsh pop of rapidly displaced air as they arrived at their destination. Fleur hated apparation. She despised how it made her feel like vomiting every time she did it. Still, it was the fastest way to get from place to place in the wizarding world and the convenience of it was a necessary evil. The closest floo to this location as in the middle of a very popular wizarding nightclub where they were sure to be recognized.
It was sad to think that without her 'relationship' with William, she would not have even been able to obtain an apparation license under the current laws. She was a foreign national (she had a French license) and possessed magical creature blood which made her, in some ways, worse off than muggleborns like Hermione. Had she been in France, where the laws were fair but the statute of secrecy was much stricter, she would have been perfectly safe without the need for a sham marriage to protect her. The laws were in the process of being revised if the papers were to be believed, but the process was slow and unwieldy as politics often was. Fleur did not think that she would be a completely free person in this county for some time still.
The woods that they landed in were thick and dark, fallen leaves littered the ground and the light from the overcast sky above them barely filtered through the trees to light their way out of the woods and towards the muggle restaurant that Fleur and William had once been so fond of. Fleur kept hold on Hermione's hand, not wanting to drop that warmth and happy feeling without reason. It felt so right, there, even if it left both of them defenseless with only their non-dominant hands to defend themselves.
"What is this place?" Hermione asked quietly, her breath coming in small clouds of steam in the suddenly chilly air. They had come from the more temperate London to northern Yorkshire in a matter of seconds, the air was dramatically colder. She shivered in her light sweater and Fleur cursed herself for not thinking of the cold and casting warming charms on the pair of them before coming here to these cold woods.
Fleur reluctantly dropped Hermione's hand and reached down to pull her wand from her boot, casting a non-verbal lumos and raising it above her head. They were deeper into the woods than she had intended, but she could clearly see the path leading towards daylight and civilization. This was a well-frequented wizarding lunch spot despite its muggle owners, as many Gringotts workers tended to want to escape the lunchtime crunch in London. Fleur whispered the incantation for a warming charm to Hermione's grateful smile. It was hard answer Hermione's question - to explain what this place was in a few sentences, for it was a place that she both loved and hated. She took a deep breath and began, "This is a place William and I found when we were still getting to know each other. We told our coworkers at Gringtotts about it and they fell in love with it too. I do not think 'e comes 'ere anymore." It was sad really, as this restaurant and these woods were a place where she and William had spent many a lunch hour talking and laughing and just being friends, before everything had changed. "I certainly do not anymore."
Hermione blinked in Fleur's wand-light, her brown eyes questioning and narrowed as she stood with her arms still wrapped around herself despite Fleur's warming charm. "Why?" Fleur wished that she wouldn't ask, but she knew that Hermione was far too curious, too intellectual of a person to not ask such a question. The veela in Fleur would not let her outright lie to the one it had set its sights on either. She hated being so blunt and honest, but the veela forced her hand when Fleur would rather dance around that particular subject.
Fleur lowered her wand to shine on the path and took Hermione's hand once again, leading her towards the outskirts of the woods. They would finish this conversation before they left the woods, yes, but there was no sense being this deep in the woods when the fringes of the forest were far less cold and dark. She picked her way carefully down the path, mindful of the fact that she was in heels and probably had not thought this through as much as she should have. "This is where we 'atched our plan, as it were, to protect each other from wizarding law that did not favor either of us." The explanation was rather simple, but it stank of a defeat that Fleur could never admit. She had given up on finding her mate, on finding happiness for the creature within her (she is right in front of you) in an effort to save her own skin.
Hermione stopped walking, her fingers pulling Fleur to a reluctant stop. "Then why did you bring me here, if it holds such bad memories for you?" she asked, staring down at their joined hands. Fleur took a step closer to her, suddenly full of a need to be as close to Hermione as possible she had to explain or else Hermione would not understand why she had to come here to do what she planned to do. Besides, Hermione was so adorable in her confusion, question written across her every part of her face. "I don't understand."
Fleur smiled, pushing a stray hair from Hermione's forehead. Her cheeks were purplish in the pale-blue light that surrounded them from the tip of Fleur's wand. She was blushing once again, her eyes wide and dark in this light. "They 'ave very good sandwiches here," she explained, gesturing over towards the edge of the forest where a road had come into view and a parking lot full of muggle cars and bicycles could be seen. A sign advertized soup and some sort of beer that Fleur had never heard of, blinking in the half-light of the growing evening. "Also I want to… 'ow does one say," She paused, her finger resting on Hermione's cheek. She could see the younger girl's breath, fogging up the short distance between them. "Exercise a demon."
"Oh?" Hermione grinned, leaning closer to Fleur with a conspiratorial look on her face as she whispered, "What sort of demon?"
She was so close now and flecks of gold that had been dancing on the edge of Fleur's vision had quite suddenly pulled her from a dimly-lit blue world into one of brilliant golden sun. The veela was telling her to take what was so clearly offered and Fleur, for once, was not going to fight it. "This one," she said in quiet French before leaning in and brushing her lips against Hermione's slightly parted ones.
Fleur lost herself in that innocent press of lips, standing in this dark patch of woods in the middle of a muggle town. Hermione was responding, slipping her hands around Fleur's neck and sighing quietly into the kiss. Fleur pushed her hands under the thin cardigan that Hermione was wearing, running her hands up and down the shorter girl's sides. She was warm, comforting, and she filled Fleur with a sense of belonging for the first time in her life.
She was hesitant, but Hermione had obviously been kissed before as her hands were tangled up in Fleur's hair and her lips were slightly parted, daring Fleur to push further.
Her control was shot, completely gone and lost in this sensation of having the pure and constant essence of Hermione filling every sense of her body, overwhelming what little conscious thought Fleur maintained during this exchange. Fleur drank in the passion that Hermione offered to her freely, pushing her tongue into the shorter girl's mouth and sucking urgently when Hermione offered hers in return.
Fleur could not find a place to rest her hands, and they wanted freely over Hermione's back, eventually resting, hesitantly, on her arse. Hermione groaned into her mouth, pressing herself closer to Fleur.
The kiss was everything she had ever hoped for, allowed herself to dream of, and more. Fleur battled for dominance with Hermione, her hands now toying with the hem of Hermione's dress. They were going too quickly, this was too far – not to mention cold and out of doors.
Reluctantly, she brought her hands away from the skin she had been so eager to touch and allowed them to rest once again on Hermione's hips. She pulled away, tenderly kissing the corner of Hermione's mouth, their breath a foggy cloud between them.
"Fleur, I-" Hermione began, detangling her hands from Fleur's hair and letting them rest on the lapels of Fleur's jacket. She looked good with her eyes wide and her face flushed – her lips swollen from kisses, Fleur could get used to Hermione like this. She was beautiful.
Fleur placed a finger on Hermione's lips, stopping her from speaking so that she could say her part. "I am sorry," she said quietly, suddenly full of regret that she had not made this, the first kiss that they shared, more romantic. "I 'ad meant for it to be more romantic than that."
"N-no, it's fine." Hermione shook her head, her cheeks bright red even in the half-light of the woods. She continued quickly as Fleur let out the breath that she had been holding. It was no spell, and Hermione finally realized it. "It was lovely, wonderful even."
"I am glad you enjoyed it." Fleur smiled and rested her forehead against Hermione's, her eyes half closed against the color that flooded her vision. The veela was happy, and Fleur could feel her body changing ever so slightly, adjusting to this new feeling, this new presence in her heart. This was what her mother had told her about, the feeling of complete contentment and oneness with another. This was what she had been denying herself.
"Could you… erm… Do it again?" Hermione looked away, her cheeks rosy.
Fleur chuckled, and hooked her fingers around the belt that Hermione had worn over her tunic-like dress. "I can do far more than that, if you would only let me." She muttered, pressing her lips against Hermione's once more.
They never did find their way down to the restaurant that evening, instead choosing to apparate back to Hogsmeade and to hurry back up the hill to the castle and Fleur's rooms, where the kissing could continue away from prying eyes.
END ACT ONE
Post Script: I wanted to take a minute to thank my many reviewers who have been so wonderful, I love your reviews and I do try to respond to direct questions and comments as best as I can but I'm a young professional and work sometimes has to take precedent. Act two is on it's way!
So thank you, LauraFlowi, revcml, Meneldur, passionate-romantic, beelotus, xx, Darkshadow-lord, SoulAstray, gaby2angel, rosebella5903, kiarcheo, ian, DJS010, Asher77, the outskirts, as, avarenda, jaguar, nightshade88, Sirius T, mittens, iamme, me, 1010'jin, just twisty, lids234, Your Gay Friend, Hobbes the Cat, Kapleon, JocDand, A, Neiger, Wolf-of-Five-Elements, , jijibebe, V, Stargate-sg1sg1, foolyycooly, R, Ramada87, Mhm, immo, Doris, Shamblee, Kuramo, PBHey, Godzilla, Jstareader, marmotella, Julian, kiarcheo, xxiceeyesxx27, hah, Yeux Rogues, Slytherin or Gryffindor, rob, Aeleron
(Those of you who are reviewing anonymously and actually ask me questions, please leave me a way to get in contact with you so I can answer them!)
And of course, the most wonderful beta-reader of them all, Shetan83. Thank you so so much!