Golden Haze, Act Three, Scene One

AN: Hey everyone, how did you like the last chapter? The response was not nearly as good as it's been in the past. I know that it's an interlude chapter that says little about the relationship between Fleur and Hermione, but it's important to the plot guys. Please don't abandon me and this story; not we're so close to the end!

This has been done for like a day, the stupid site wouldn't let me upload. Anyway enjoy!

This chapter deals some with past abuse and internal homophobia. Just so everyone knows!

Music of the Story: The Proclaimers – "I'm on My Way"

Her rooms were cold. With December had come the chill that Fleur Delacour had had burned into her memories the day that she jumped into the half-frozen over lake outside of Hogwarts School in mid-February. Fleur shivered despite her thick wool over-robe and sweater made by William's mother. It was just as deathly cold in the late afternoon in this part of the castle. Back then she had not been able to perform warming charms with the speed and accuracy that she could now, after going through a Mastery program and a war – the mind-numbing cold of that lake still plagued Fleur's nightmares.

Glaring at the fire that was not doing nearly enough to warm the room, she cast a warming charm around herself and reached into her pocket to pull on the fingerless gloves that she'd put there earlier this morning when her classroom had been so cold that she'd had to wear them in order to even write on the chalkboard. She pulled them on and was in the process of levitating the kettle into the fireplace when there was a quiet knock on her door. Two short, one loud and resonating. The Order of the Phoenix's coded knock that Hermione had commandeered to be the signal that it was her, and not someone else, knocking on Fleur's door.

She glanced over her shoulder and bid the newcomer entrance. When the curly hair and equally bundled form of Hermione Granger squeezed around the door before pushing it shut once again. Any slower of a movement and all the heat that Fleur had so carefully gathered into the cold rooms would have escaped. Fleur smiled at her, already warmed by the mere presence of the other woman. "'ermione," she said, stepping forward.

The distance between them was crossed in a few short steps by each party. Fingers linked together, and Fleur drew Hermione close to her, enjoying the warmth and the smell of her lover. She smelled of books and old magic, residual from the day's lessons. Veela could smell such things, even if humans could not. Fleur kissed the top of Hermione's head, her cheeks burning.

It still felt strange to be so intimate with this girl that until very recently she had been dead set on avoiding for the rest of her life. Her body was still growing used to having the veela be there constantly without being quashed. The haze was all-but gone now, a gentle twinkling on the corners of her vision as she tilted Hermione's chin up to claim her lips. The veela was content with these kisses and the few times that they'd gone further; Fleur was not going to push it further. Not until they could truly be together without the added complication of William, these attacks, and the horrible laws that Hermione was so desperate to change.

The kiss was chaste at first, but Hermione pushed her tongue forward and soon it became much more. Fleur took one, two steps backwards and pulled the shorter girl down into her lap. Their tongues were caught in a ferocious battle, Fleur sucking eagerly on what was offered to her as Hermione took and took again. She liked it when Hermione was like this, aggressive and taking from Fleur the pleasure she wanted.

Too soon though, Fleur felt Hermione pull away. Their eyes met as Hermione retreated, a smile blossoming across her lover's face. "'lo Fleur," Hermione said, the corners of her eyes crinkling upwards at the corners, full of beauty and laughter. Fleur loved seeing her like that, it made her look far less the worried soul that Fleur knew was hidden just below that beautiful smile.

"Sorry to come so late," Hermione continued. The firelight reflected on her eyes, filling them with mischief and something that Fleur could not place. Logic told her it was flirting, but she had never been particularly skilled at that (one of veela heritage did not need to be, as many were completely gobsmacked by beauty alone) to begin with. The words tied in her mouth then, but flirting came easily to Hermione and Fleur enjoyed the game. "There's this professor who keeps assigning me in-depth research projects."

Fleur laughed. She had assigned research projects for over the Christmas holidays to her seventh year class in class earlier that day. Hermione had looked intrigued at her topic, and had raised her eyebrows at Fleur over the parchment containing the assignment details that Fleur had distributed to the class. She leaned back, arms stretched out over the back of the couch. "Maybe it is because your professor thinks that you 'ave the mind for research and do it well?"

Again, Hermione's eyebrows shot up, questioning, curious. She huffed indignantly and replied, "Well, maybe if this professor would tell me when I will ever use that particular branch of curse breaking in the real world…"

Shifting her weight, Fleur was able to shift Hermione's center of gravity closer to her, and the curly-haired woman pitched forward against her chest. Fleur wrapped her arms around Hermione and whispered, her lips dangerously close to that place on Hermione's ear that made her positively moan with pleasure, "Tombs. In Egypt."

"I don't want to go into archeology." This pronouncement was accompanied with a long-suffering sigh and Fleur laughed again. That had not been why she'd assigned the project to Hermione. She had thought it a nice change of pace from the scores of magical law tomes that she had been burning through as of late. Hermione's mental health was partially her responsibility at this point in time. The veela inside of her dictated that she protect Hermione with her life. That was what mates did, and those who did such audacious things as bond on All Hallows with someone that they were not married to were subject to far stricter rules.

Fleur sighed quietly, trying not to think about the rash act that had connected their hearts for an eternity. She had yet to really fully examine the implications of such an action. She had been so busy working on both Hermione's side project for the Order and her own classwork. It had been a foolish idea to have so many essays and tests due in the last month, but now her time was freeing up and the dread had once again begun to set in.

She'd bonded. In the veela way. While still technically married to another. Such a sin was unheard of in veela culture. She could not bear the shame of asking her grandmere or mother for help with such a problem – and Gabrielle was far too young to understand. She did not to know, but she knew she had to. If there were implications beyond what Fleur already suspected, they were colossally fucked. She just hoped that William would understand, he had hinted that he did.

"You are seeing a cursebreaker by trade, it is good to know such things." Fleur pointed out, violently shoving the veela's alarm and confusion and her own insecurities down with a bright smile that felt entirely fake across her face. She was going to divorce William as soon as she could and be rid of all this additional stress. "Besides, it is an interesting topic for research. I could give you Monsieur Potter's topic if you really are that befuddled by this one."

Hermione laughed, her breath hot against Fleur's neck. "Its fine, Fleur, I was just joking." She sat up her hands resting on Fleur's shoulders. "Besides, spells against vampires? Not nearly as interesting." Her tone was serious, but it was accompanied with a very Minerva McGonagall like look.

At that point Fleur could not help but really and truly grin at Hermione. "I 'ad figured."

They fell into silence for a moment, the fire crackling and the room growing steadily warmer as they leached off of each other's warmth, not looking at each other. They did not need to, not any more. That was what the bonding meant. An awareness of each other that could hardly be explained in terms of conventional magic. This was the mark of the veela. Something on those of Fleur's heritage could create, and she cherished every second of what she had made with Hermione. This was an aspect of her heritage that she could love without the rest of her own mental challenges with the veela inside her.

"What are we going to do about Christmas?" Hermione asked abruptly, cutting through the comfortable silence that they had lapsed into, leaning against each other, Hermione's fingers tangled in Fleur's hair, Fleur's fingers tracing slow patterns across Hermione's back.

(You will go back to playacting.)

Tais-toi, Fleur thought violently at the veela. She had been avoiding thinking about it almost as much as she'd been avoiding thinking of their bonding. She did not want to go spend another week or so in such a hostile environment. She supposed that at least Harry would be there, and he knew at least some of what was going on. Fleur liked him, always had, he was a good person and a very good friend to Hermione, even if their closeness infuriated the veela.

She would have to deal with that aspect of her personality in time, but she hoped that it would resolve itself before she and Hermione move on to the point in their relationship where such petty jealously would be an issue.

Fleur grit her teeth, her cheeks burning in the shame of having to admit how completely unenthused she was at the idea of getting the cold shoulder from Molly and Ginny Weasley for a week. After that she could go back to Shell Cottage and maybe even meet this man that William seemed to be interested in. She hoped that that poor man could understand their situation, it certainly was complicated enough. "I was planning on going to the Burrow since I cannot return 'ome." It was an announcement that stank of finality and Fleur hated it.

"You can't?" Hermione had removed her fingers from Fleur's hair and sat back, looking confused as Fleur stared at Hermione's sweater, not wanting to look up and into her eyes.

"The laws restrict travel out of the country without a special permit." Fleur said, ruing the day that ever left France in the first place. She had had her reasons and they were still crystal clear in her mind, but the ache of not having her family around her drove Fleur to rash moments of regret. She would not have traded this for the world, but to not see Gabrielle's smiling face for four long years was an ache not even finally achieving the happiness the veela longed for could replace.

"What?" Hermione's eyes widened at the realization. Fleur guessed that she had not known. The restrictions were not widely reported and those under them did not choose to speak of them readily, as the humiliating implication was not lost on any of the audience. "I did not realize it was that bad. I'm sorry Fleur."

"You 'ave commandeered Monsieur Malfoy while 'e is in the 'ospital wing to 'elp you write a replacement law, 'ermione. I thought you knew." She was lying, because she knew that even if Draco Malfoy knew of such a law he probably would not have said anything of it. It was not to be discussed in polite company, and certainly not around politically-minded muggleborns with a mind for changing societal mores that they didn't agree with.

"It isn't in the original text of that law… bugger, is there another one we missed?" Hermione scooted off of Fleur's lap and grabbed her discarded school bag from the floor by the door. She pulled it open and produced a notebook that was obviously muggle-made and the stub of a pencil. She returned to sit next to Fleur, snuggling against Fleur's taller form and jotting down notes.

"I do not know." Fleur said honestly. She had thought it was included in the original law that had been written restricting those like her to travel within the county without special permits. If it wasn't there were far-reaching implications and Hermione's project with Draco Malfoy might all be for naught. If there was more than one law, there was a chance that they couldn't ride Harry Potter's influence and actually get the law changed. Fleur shifted uncomfortably as Hermione continued to scribble.

"I'll look into it over Christmas," she muttered, closing the notebook and jamming her pencil down the wire binding. She looked at Fleur for a long time, just staring at her with that curious and evaluating gaze. Fleur felt strange under the scrutiny, but said nothing. The veela was intrigued, and Fleur felt that curiosity fill her. What was Hermione thinking? Her face was so blank that it was impossible to tell.

Hermione tapped her finger on her chin, folding the corner of her notebook cover down and creasing the thicker cardboard, "And don't be weird about Malfoy. He was trapped up there and he is one of the few students in this school who actually knows anything about magical law. He wants to see the laws changed too."

Fleur's eyes narrowed. She could not understand why Hermione was so quick to trust him. She understood that he was one of the few people in the school who could help Hermione with this project and that this was his trial-by-fire in terms of the Order of the Phoenix. She did not think that Minerva McGonagall of all people would look past the sins of the father when it came to the son. Fleur had had enough time to know that Draco Malfoy was one singularly driven individual. He was a good person, if not one with a highly abrasive personality.

Still, there was the problem of his father. Lucius Malfoy had been involved, deeply involved with the inner workings of the Dark Lord's inner circle. His house had been their headquarters and the location of the torture of Hermione.

Fleur bit her lip. She could never forgive such actions. Even though the one who did them was dead by Molly Weasley's hand, there was no way that she could ever forgive such events from transgressing in the first place. Veelas do not forgive and they do not forget.

An elephant never forgets. A line from a muggle film that she'd seen as a child rang through her mind and there was a thought that she could not forget. She would not forgive Draco Malfoy for what he had allowed to happen. She finally, after several long moments of trying to find the right words, decided on what she was going to say, "'e is probably using this as a starting point to a career in politics."

Hermione bit her lip. Fleur's breath caught at the gesture. It was darkly sensual given the context of their relationship. "I am aware," she muttered. There was that gleam in her eyes that Fleur could not place. It seemed to shine with a fire that Fleur could barely place. It looked like Hermione was taken with something that words failed. The question of noble justification that Gryffindor faced on a daily basis. Who were they going to throw their support behind, and where their loyalties lay. To put stock in a Slytherin was unheard of for a Gryffindor, but Hermione had been defying the odds since she had started school.

Fleur watched as Hermione thought about what to say next, angry at herself for doubting Hermione's judgment. It was not her place, and she had made so many mistakes in her life that it did not seem fair to Hermione to not let the younger woman make a few before she understood the consequences. "I think he really just wants to protect his mum, she's under a lot of pressure because of the magical creature laws as well as the restrictions the Ministry has put on his family due to his father's actions during the war. Harry's word could only go so far."

Fleur sighed. She had been curious about that, and it did make sense. Harry Potter had tried unsuccessfully to get the Malfoy name cleared over the summer and had at least managed to exonerate Draco and his mother. The Veela inFleur had not approved of his actions then, but she was not one to say anything to the savior of the wizarding world. It was not her place, and Hermione had forgiven Draco whatever trespass he had committed against her in school after a few afternoons of conversation in the Hospital Wing.

She had to change the subject, she was going to say something she'd regret. Fleur cast her thoughts around wildly, trying to think of something to get Hermione off the topic of Draco Malfoy. The veela was pushing on her consciousness, dragging her downwards and putting words in her mouth. They had been talking about Christmas, and how Fleur could not return home. "What are you going to do over Christmas? Are you going to come to the Burrow with me?" Fleur asked quietly, not meeting Hermione's eyes as she very blatantly changed the subject.

She had made her thoughts clear to Hermione, explaining how the veela saw it. Just as she had offered to help Draco as a favor to his mother, she would allow Hermione to make her own decision regarding him. She could not forget the harrowed look on Hermione's face that day that she and the others had arrived at Shell Cottage. It was not directly Draco Malfoy's fault, but his involvement made it impossible for the veela in her to overlook.

"Wouldn't that… be awkward?"

Fleur ran a hand through her hair, leaning back and resting her head on the back of the couch. "It 'as the potential, yes."

(If you let it be so, it will be so.)

What does that even mean? Fleur demanded of the veela, the golden haze creeping into the corners of her vision as she tried to push down the angry thoughts of the veela. Her control now that she had finally started to accept its presence had been far better than in the past, but she had trouble with it at times. The veela's anger at what had happened to Hermione was one of the hardest things for Fleur to repress. It still escaped her at times and she hated when her words cut through Hermione or anyone around her, harsh and cruel.

Hermione chewed on her lip thoughtfully for a moment before answering. "I need to go home, Fleur. I have to see my family." As Fleur looked down at her hands, Hermione continued, "I haven't told them, about us."

Her blood ran cold.

Yet another thing that she had not counted on, or thought about before this point. Fleur cursed her poor timing and bad judgment and swallowed the bile that welled up in her throat. This would not be easy. She did not know how muggles were going to handle her heritage, the bonding, or even that she was a woman. Wizarding society, save for the firstborn rule, generally did not care about such relationships. They were frowned upon in old families with few heirs, but on a whole they were treated the same as any other couple.

Her reading of the muggle newspapers, however, dictated that this was the precise opposite in muggle society. How they could deny love basic rights was completely beyond her, but Fleur did not want to push it with Hermione's parents. Not before she and William detangled themselves from each other.

"Ah." She said simply, biting back the word vomit that threatened to come out.

"It isn't that I'm ashamed of us or anything. I just… don't know how to tell them." Hermione said quickly, her hand on Fleur's knee before she had even finished speaking. Her eyes were pleading, begging Fleur to understand.

Fleur did, but she did not want to admit it. To admit that she knew what she was getting Hermione into when she started this whole thing was not the right thing to do. She didn't know what else to say, other than that she was sorry she'd inflicted such a thing on one so innocent.

Hermione shifted slightly, her arms wrapped around Fleur. Fleur lowered one comforting arm to rest on the other girl's back and stared off into space, wondering what she could possibly say to make this alright.

"My parents are scientific people, they don't judge much. They accepted my being a witch very quickly." Hermione muttered into Fleur's chest, her voice making pleasant vibrations as she spoke.

"They also do not really know what magic can do, 'ermione. You told me that they did not understand just how powerful magic really is." Fleur tired not to think about how the tears had been so clearly visible on Hermione's cheeks that day at The Burrow last summer when she'd gotten back from Australia. Her parents had been angry, so incredibly angry, that she'd chosen to protect them. Fleur had longed to go to her then, but Harry and Ronald had been there, holding her close and not letting her fall as she cried.

Resting her chin on the top of Hermione's head, Fleur said quietly, "Be 'onest, explain my 'eritiage and 'ow it gives me no choice."

Hermione sat up, Fleur's chin knocking against the top of her head as she did so, her eyes blazing with a fire that Fleur could not place. This was indignation, the veela knew it well. "I like to think that you chose to fall in love with me."

"I did, oui." Fleur smiled, running her fingers along Hermione's cheek. She took a deep breath, and asked the question that had been plaguing her since before Fleur had even taken the job at Hogwarts. "Is it because I am female?"

Hermione looked away. "That is a part of it." There was a hint of shame in her voice that made Fleur reach out and pull her back in close.

You cannot be ashamed, beautiful one. This is too wonderful to be ashamed of.

"I'm so sorry Fleur, I don't have the strength to do something else to them, not after I hurt them so badly by taking their memories away. They saw the scars, from Bellatrix LeStrange, over the summer. I tried to explain it away, but they knew without my saying anything." Hermione was close to crying, the hiccup was evident in her voice as she let Fleur pull her in closer.

"Oh 'ermione." Fleur muttered, "You are so strong." Her emotions were far darker, however. Hermione's parents could not hurt her again like their rejection upon her undoing her memory charm, Fleur could not let that happen. Not to a girl who had done so much to save their world.

"I'm scared Fleur." Hermione said into Fleur's sweater. "The attacks are getting more frequent and I've started writing those letters to the Prophet at Professor McGonagall's suggestion – since we're working on the law anyway."

"She approves of your working with 'im?" At this Fleur raised an eyebrow. She had no idea that the reason that Hermione and Draco were working together was because of a suggestion from the headmistress. Honestly, it made more sense that way. Given the past bad blood between the two of them it had been so jarring to see their collaborative effort over the past month while Draco's hands recovered to the point where he could once again hold a wand.

He'd been released from the hospital wing the previous week and Fleur had seen a lot more of Hermione after that point.

"More than Harry or Ron do." Hermione said, sitting up and wiping at her red eyes. There was a damp patch on Fleur's sweater but she paid it no mind. The wool would dry in time. "Harry offered to help, but has instead been trying to catch him up on defensive magic. Not that he can do anything with his hands like this."

"Mn." Fleur agreed, leaning forward to gently kiss Hermione's forehead.

"It's strange," Hermione sighed dramatically before continuing, "how a war can change something that's been set in stone since before we even got to Hogwarts. When he apologized to Harry this summer, I didn't know what to think – but I do think that he just wants to help. He knows stuff that a lot of us don't."

Fleur felt like her mother, but her tone turned severe as she spoke, "'as he apologized to you? I saw 'ow 'e was to you in school."

Hermione nodded. "Before we started working on the law together, he said that he was an ass who didn't know any better and was mad about my beating him in marks most of the time." She shrugged, shoulders lost in school robes and sweater rising and falling against her hair, "I don't know how sincere he was being, but he did seem to actually be remorseful. He saved us, back then too."

"That is something, then." Fleur shrugged as well, "Those of my 'eritiage are far less quick to trust people, 'ermione."

Her cheeks burned and Fleur smiled at her. She was cute when she blushed, cute when she was flattered or embarrassed. Fleur knew Hermione was embarrassed now, at the idea that Fleur would defend her honor. The tinge of pink to her cheeks and the way her bangs fell down and into her eyes gave her away. "I know." Hermione said, "Will I see you at Christmas at all?"

Fleur nodded, glad that the conversation had returned to topics that did not make her self-control waver. "I would think so," she said, mentally calculating where the meeting location would be and if they'd even be able to get Draco Malfoy there to give a full report without a Weasley attempting to right all past wrongs of that long-standing blood-feud. She would make a point of mentioning to Minerva before they left that a neutral location was a must. "The Order plans to move on the information that William has gathered then."

Hermione leaned forward and pressed her lips against Fleur's, warm and friendly and inviting. Fleur could not resist that kiss, those fingers and that look of complete adoration. They kissed in earnest for a few long minutes before Hermione pulled away to whisper, her cheeks burning against Fleur's cooler skin. "I don't want to leave you."

"I know, 'ermione." Fleur replied, kissing her once more. "We will make the best of it we can."

x

Grandmere –

I must go back to that place and this play acting once again. I hate it. They do not accept me for myself, but rather as the woman their gay son married to take away both of our troubles. They do not know the half of it, fools.

I am at peace. I have found my way and while it is not the same as the one you suggested, I am finally starting to become whole. I hate that too.

It has been a part of my identity for so long that it fills me with puzzlement to be without it, the hatred of the veela. To have happiness is to be at peace and I do not think that I am equipped to handle that fact at this time.

And so I retreat, run back to what I know with stolen kisses and feeling bipolar.

I want to come home, but I cannot. The laws will not let me and it is not safe to break them. The Aurors and my so-called-father-in-law are forced to uphold them while they are on the books. That is the problem of magical law.

The government will fall if this is not done correctly. I worry that there is no way it can be done well.

It's Christmas, I should be happy, right?

I can only hope that with midwinter comes happiness that I am not entirely sure I deserve.

Give my love to mama and Gabby,

Fleur

x

Dearest Fleur –

Get William to sign these and be done with it.

Grandmere

Out of the envelope fell several papers prepared by a solicitor that her father kept on retainer. She swallowed; her grandmother had sent her divorce papers.