Golden Haze – Act Three, Scene Two
AN: I'm really sorry to anyone who is having trouble believing certain aspects of my story. I'm trying to make it as realistic and as true to canon as I possibly can, but some people still aren't buying it. I'm sorry to all of y'all who can't get into this story because of that.
If anyone is a native French speaker, I used babelfish to translate the few things in this chapter that were in French (I really try to keep things in my native language so that I don't have to do this sort of thing), and I have no way of telling if they're wrong. Correct me if it's horrible? Please? :)
eta: Thanks to SiriusT for helping me with the french translation here!
Music of the Story – Vienna Teng & Nena
The Weasley's kitchen swam into view as Fleur landed, once again in a heap, on the braided straw mat that Molly Weasley kept there to prevent ash and soot from getting all over the rest of the house. She picked herself up and shook out her shirt, glancing around to see if anyone was still awake. She wasn't sure if George or William would have gone to bed, she had not been gone all that long, after all.
At the kitchen table, William was finishing up the paperwork that he'd been working on earlier, in secret and alone. Fleur felt horrible that he'd had to do it that way, but it was the only way that they could finally nullify this farce. He set down the quill he'd been using and blinked sleepily at her. "I thought you'd spend the night there," he said, raising his eyebrows.
"'er parents were still awake," Fleur said, collapsing into a chair across from William and pulling the papers towards her. Upon inspection, she saw that he had successfully signed every one of the twenty nine places he had to place his mark. She dipped the quill into the waiting ink bottle and started to sign her name to the papers as well. "I would 'ave very much liked to."
No expectation of spousal alimony, Fleur read, her eyes narrowed as she signed her name. She had no intention of taking anything from William and he had nothing to ask for from her. She had told him, should Hermione be amiable to the idea, that perhaps someday he could be godfather to their child. That, at least, would solve the foolish heir problem. She had made no promises, however, as this was as much Hermione's decision as it was her own and Fleur could not help but think that doing this in secret, without telling Hermione, was deceit enough.
"Can't believe we're doing this." William tilted his chair backwards, his foot hooked around the table's leg and his hands cradling his head. "I feel so – I don't even know – exhilarated."
Fleur signed her name on yet another line and smiled at him. "I am in agreement. This situation was a smart one at the time we came upon it, but now it 'as the feeling like a foolish endeavor."
"You mean of, Fleur," William said.
She stuck her tongue out at him. Even now, after years of friendship, the one thing that had brought them together in the first place was her poor grasp of the English language. One day, when she was completely fluent, she would have to thank him for his help. In broken English, just to annoy him. "Once I 'ave signed the last line, our contract is null magically, am I not correct?" She had read through the documentation and knew enough about wizarding divorce to know that because it was a magical ceremony that the only way to sever it was also to do it magically. The actual filing could wait until after the Minister for Magic was able to change the law, but in the eyes of the magic that had once bound their souls together, they would be separated. That was all that either of them really wanted at this point in time.
William nodded. "Don't even think they'd be able to tell unless we went in in person and they scanned us." He gave an elaborate shrug. "Don't know why either of us would be caught anywhere near that place though."
He was speaking of the Department of Magical Records, the living, breathing, epitome of the bureaucratic nightmare that was the Ministry of Magic. It was a terrible department, a known consumer of souls – Fleur had heard this fact first hand from some of her goblin coworkers at Gringotts. She was not entirely sure that she believed it, but when she had first reported there upon arrival to the United Kingdom from France to bear the humiliating act of registering herself as a part 'potentially dangerous' magical creature, she could feel the dead air in the place start to creep into her lungs. It stilled them, slowed her breathing to a crawl, sucking out her life force simply due to her presence in the room. Fleur was quite positive that she had never in her life been so desperate to leave a place. This included her swimming expedition into the icy lake outside Hogwarts during the Triwizard tournament.
She flipped through the pages, shoving violently at the thoughts of the cold murky water that she had nearly drowned in and the shame of failing to rescue Gabrielle. She had signed nearly all the pages now. "I wish," she began, pursing her lips and signing yet another line, "That I could make some sort of promise to you, William, about an 'eir."
William's hair fell into his eyes as he stared down at the worn wood of the table. "Don't worry about it, Fleur. Maybe Harry will make me a godfather and save us all the trouble."
"'ave you asked 'im?"
"And say what? I'm a bloody homosexual that needs to name an heir in order to save face in the eyes of wizarding society – please, when you start to pop out babies, name me as a godfather to one of them?" William ran a hand through his hair and groaned loudly.
Fleur dipped her pen into the ink once again; she was on the final line. "I am not the most knowledgeable when it comes to these sorts of things, William. But I will say this: you will be good at fatherhood. Ask 'arry, the worst he can do is say no. I know he does not care about such petty things as who you bring into your bed at night." With that pronouncement, Fleur signed her name on the final line. "I divorce you, William Weasley," she announced, watching as the magic curled around the document.
She knew he could not see it. It was a talent that few other than veela possessed, the ability to see the wild magic that existed in everything. Her research seemed to indicate that it was that that caused the golden haze that plagued her so. The magic severed the bond between them, thin and weak as it was.
They were both finally free.
x
When Hermione arrived in tears the next morning, Fleur supposed that she should not have been all that surprised. There had not had nearly enough time to talk the night before, but Fleur was quite positive that the conversation between Hermione and her parents was far from over. Harry and Ronald converged around her, holding her in their arms and letting her sob onto their shoulders. The veela was indignant, but pragmatic, as Fleur knew that this was the one instant where her presence could only hurt Hermione, not help her.
She was standing just off the foyer, watching as Harry tried to say soothing things to Hermione as Ron looked positively murderous. Her heart broke for the three of them, knowing that their bond was something that she could never truly be a part of. She knew then, how Ginny must feel, watching Harry comfort a girl that was not her and one with whom he shared a bond that words could not do justice.
(You could go to her.) The veela's voice echoed in her head, harsh and predatory.
Fleur shook her head, ever so slightly, she could not. It would not be practical. She replied, turning her attention back to the scene before her. She felt like an intruder, a voyeur, watching the scene with no intention of joining in.
"I don't understand," Ronald was saying, his fists clenched angrily at his sides. "Why can't they just understand that you did it for their own good? So that they would not have to risk being tortured or worse at the hands of that madman."
Hermione sniffed and whipped her eyes on the corner of Harry's jacket's collar before responding and Fleur felt her heart break just a little bit as he shifted out of the way of her hair – still tangled from the previous night's sleep – and allowed her the indulgence. "Because I did something that was so horrible to them that they could not even comprehend it." She looked down at her hands. "And then I had to go and tell them the other thing."
"What other thing?" Ronald asked and they both glared at him. His cheeks colored brightly and realization dawned on his face. "You didn't."
Hermione's duffle bag strap sagged on her shoulder. "I am trying a new tactic with them, complete honesty." She sniffed.
Harry's hand on Hermione's shoulder tightened into a fist. "I take it it's not working out?"
"No, not particularly," Hermione answered. Her eyes brightened and Fleur realized that her feet had moved of their own accord, desperate to comfort the one she loved so much. They were all watching her now, and the veela hissed at the men surrounding her mate.
(Bugger there, 'eh?)
You and I are going to have a talk later.
"Salut," Fleur said quietly, stepping fully into view. Playacting had never been her forte, but Fleur was good enough to put on a good show in case Molly Weasley or anyone unaware of the situation in their family was listening. "'ermione, what is the matter?"
Gratitude was clearly visible on Hermione's face as Fleur stepped forward to join their little circle with Hermione in the middle. How she longed, desperately, to lean forward and pull Hermione towards her and into arms, where the veela would know that she would be safe and protected from the cruelty outside. Fleur reached out and placed a hesitant hand on Hermione's shoulder, anything more would not have been worth the risk.
"It's nothing," Hermione said, whipping her eyes once again. Fleur's eyes narrowed but Hermione shook her head slightly, now was not the time to point out to her that she was not being honest with herself. "I'm going to go put my things in Ginny's room – Fleur can you – erm – help me with that?"
"Certainly." Fleur nodded, recognizing the ploy with ease.
Ronald nodded, wrapping his arms around Hermione's shoulders in a quick hug. Fleur silently let the veela seethe inside her and wished that it did not have to be this way. She longed to be able to have the personal unity that so many other part-veela boasted, but it would never come so easily. Not to she who loathed the very being that made up such an integral part of her person. She was finally growing to accept it, when moments like this reared their ugly head, driving her back into the spiral of self-loathing once more.
"Just come back soon 'mione, Da and Gin are out in the shed getting all of the Christmas decorations out. Even if you came at a bad time, you still get to decorate with us, Hermione." Ronald said quietly, as Hermione detangled herself from his arms and smiled thinly at the pair of them.
"Okay," Hermione brushed past Fleur and headed for the stairs, Fleur following her wordlessly. "I'll be done in a minute," Hermione said over her shoulder and began to climb.
Ginny's room was just off the stairs on the second floor. Hermione set her duffle bag down on Ginny's unmade bed and waited until Fleur had fully entered the room before whipping out her wand and warding the door so thoroughly that Fleur was positive that if someone was to walk by it they would be violently flung clear across the hallway.
Before Fleur could think of something whitty to say to Hermione, to tease her about being (rightfully) paranoid, Hermione's arms were tangled around her collar, pulling her down into a kiss that was filled with unspoken emotion. Fleur was caught up in it, unable to react. Her hands came to rest on Hermione's shoulders, holding her steady as her tongue played a savage game against Fleur's. There was wetness on Fleur's cheeks as she sucked on Hermione's lower lip and the sounds of their lips pressing against each other barely concealed Hermione's sobs behind the kiss.
Fleur did not want this, but Hermione was insistent, pulling at her clothing, desperate even in the smallest motion of her body. "Arrêtes, ceci n'est pas l'endroit... " Fleur said, pulling away from Hermione long enough to get the words out. "We could be caught."
Hermione glanced at the door for a minute, before shrugging, "At this point, I don't care." There was a confidence in her tone that Fleur had rarely heard outside of an academic context, and Fleur supposed that she really should trust Hermione Granger's ability, of all people's, to ward a door against intruders.
Her fingers trailed along those wet cheeks, whipping tears away and trying not to let Hermione kiss her once more. Fleur knew that if she did, it would be too far gone; she would not be able to stop. She did not thing Ginny would appreciate them doing this in her bedroom anyway. She took Hermione's hand in her own and looked into sad brown eyes that seemed clouded over with a multitude of emotions that now played across her face. "What 'append? I thought that it went okay."
Hermione broke their staring contest first, glaring at the floor. Her free hand was clenched into a fist and the one in Fleur's own was shaking ever so slightly. "They asked for more time," she said quietly. Her voice was carefully controlled and even. "And they asked me to leave."
Fleur frowned, asking for even more time was not exactly unheard of, but she supposed that she also had to take into account the fact that Hermione had done some things to her parents that could not exactly be construed as legal per say. When she had been hurt and reliving the nightmares of what Bellatrix LeStrange had done to her, she had told Fleur what she had done. Fleur remembered being horrified at having to face such a choice alone – and when Hermione had disappeared over the summer to go and retrieve her parents, Ronald and Molly Weasley both had told her that it had not gone well.
Had Hermione just permanently estranged herself from her parents? Fleur's heart broke as she too looked down, unable to bear the idea of Hermione without her parents. There were enough orphans because of Voldemort already; those whose parents were still alive should not be forced to live as though they were not because of terrible choices that had been made during the war.
"I see," Fleur said, her voice barely above a whisper. Here was a register where she could grasp at straws in English, where she felt the most exposed in her speaking skills. She knew that she was not terrible – but she could not find the words to properly express to Hermione how horrible this was and how sorry she was. All she could do is quietly ask, "Did you want to talk about it?"
Hermione dug in her pocket and pulled out a packet of muggle tissues and blew her nose into one once she shook out the creases in it. "Not really," she said. Her eyes were hurt and angry, as though she could not believe that Fleur was asking. She sniffed once more, "I just need to think about something else for a little while, Fleur. It isn't that I don't want to. Can we talk later tonight, when I feel a bit better?"
She smiled at Fleur then, her face lighting up the entire room. Fleur leaned forward, their foreheads resting against each other, her own smile matching Hermione's (wide and predatory). They were bonded, it did not do to shut each other out. "Bon," she whispered, brushing her lips against Hermione's own. She pulled back and pushed a lock of hair out of her lover's eyes. "'ermione, just because you are in pain gives you no reason to shut me out."
Hermione flushed, denials already on her lips, "It isn't that Fleur, I just don't want to cause you trouble – you know, with Mrs. Weasley and-"
Fleur placed a finger on her lips with a knowing smile. "Ah," she said, knowing that Hermione was going to be thrilled with the news that she and William had to share with her. "Well in that case, why do you not come with me and William tonight when we return to 'ome. You can say you're going to try and reason with your parents again. I - we" she stressed, "'ave some news that will lift your spirits."
Curious brown eyes narrowed and Hermione's brow furrowed as she contemplated what Fleur had said. "What sort of news?" she asked as a qualifier. "Because I cannot take much more bad news at this point."
Fleur laughed, "The good sort."
"That… that sounds alright."
"Then it is a plan." Fleur clapped her hands together and stepped towards the door, inclining her head and indicating that Hermione should dispel the wards so that they could both go downstairs and pretend to be nothing more than casual acquaintances once again. She was not looking forward to it, but the happiness that was sure to be written across Hermione's face when she heard the news was worth a few more hours of playacting.
x
That evening, Hermione told Mr. and Mrs. Weasley that she would be heading home to attempt to reconcile with her parents again. William (and Fleur by proxy – it would be quite pleasant to not be seen as a unit with anyone other than Hermione when this was all done and over with) had offered to apparate over there with her and make sure that she arrived safely. Fleur waited for Hermione to go up with Ginny to get her things. She pulled on her cloak and waited, William talking quietly to his parents.
Soon though, Hermione came down, her bag slung over her shoulder and Fleur smiled brightly at her. They waved to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and disapparated back to Shell Cottage, Fleur's fingers carefully interlacing with Hermione just as the spell was about to take effect. Hermione's hand was warm, and Fleur flushed at the idea of taking Hermione home. It was a strange feeling a new one. Away from the school, it felt so different, more grown-up somehow.
(What are you thinking, you're an adult.) The veela's violent thoughts cut though her happiness as the cottage swam into view, and Hermione squeezed her hand.
"Well, welcome." William said, leaning forward to place his hand firmly in the middle of the door, unlocking the wards and then pushing the key into the lock. He'd been living alone for so long now that Fleur was worried that the place had gone the way of the bachelor, but when the kitchen lacked dirty dishes in the sink and it smelled clean, Fleur breathed a little easier.
"Do you want some tea, 'ermione, William?" Fleur asked, taking the kettle and filling it up at the tap. It felt strange to be in her kitchen and for everything to be in different places. She would have to have a talk with William about moving things without telling her. Why was the tea over the stove? It didn't even make any sense for it to be there. She took down the bag of loose tea and spooned it carefully into the tea ball, closing the metal casing and putting it into the kettle. A flick from her wand and the stove lit easily, and she set the kettle on the burner.
"I'd love some," Hermione said, shrugging off her coat.
"I haven't got any milk." William said sheepishly, looking up from the refrigerator. "Sorry."
Hermione shrugged, "It's no matter, I drink it black."
Fleur nodded, "I can just put more sugar in it, it will be fine."
William put his keys on the hook by the door and shoved his hands into his pockets, thoughtful. "Well, Hermione. We've got some news," at her expectant stare, he continued. "Fleur's grandmother called a solicitor for us."
Fleur almost sighed at how adorable Hermione looked when she was surprised, her eyebrows flew up and she leaned forward, attention rapt. "Oh?"
"Yes 'e's actually on my father's retainer." Fleur pointed out, feeling the need to clarify that this was not a crusade by her fully veela grandmere. "But that is beside the point. The point is that 'e drew these up for us." From the pocket of her robes, she pulled the packet of papers that they'd signed the night before, and handed them to Hermione, one eye still on the kettle.
Hermione took the papers and read the cover page quickly, flipping through them in quick succession. Fleur was sure that she could not have possibly managed to actually absorb all the information that she was reading, but she knew better than to doubt Hermione's ability to comprehend what she was reading. "These are divorce papers!" Hermione exclaimed. She flipped through them one more time, confirming her next statement: "And you've signed them?"
William grinned at her, clapping her on the shoulder. "We're as good as separated in the eyes of the magic right now, but until we file them, we have to pretend to still be together – but I –we - thought that you might appreciate this. As Christmas is soon and all."
"This is the… most wonderful gift I could ever be given," Hermione smiled, "Thank you, both of you."
"It is no trouble," Fleur said, leaning forward, kissing Hermione gently on the cheek. "I 'ad wanted to make it clear to you that this… it is serious."
Hermione's smile grew wider, "I knew that."
And then, as if on cue, the kettle whistled and William lunged forward to get it off the stove before the shrill sound could ruin their moment. They drank their tea in silence and soon William had gone to bed. Fleur took Hermione up to her room and stood by the door, just watching Hermione's closed-off expression.
There were no words spoken, Fleur let Hermione take what she needed and gave her far more than she ever asked for. She liked it when Hermione was assertive, when Fleur did not have to cave to the veela's instincts and be the aggressor. She was able, in those moments, to remain completely and totally herself in sex – an aspect of her person almost completely govern by the veela.
"I love you," Hermione said afterwards, her fingers combing through Fleur's hair, arranging it into half-braids and careful curls and designs on the pillow.
Fleur pulled her closer, pressing a kiss against the back of her neck. "I love you too."
x
They returned to the Burrow the following morning, and the day was spent preparing for the holiday that was fast approaching. Fleur was in the kitchen helping Mrs. Weasley and Andromeda Tonks with the dishes from the Christmas Eve meal when there was a sharp rap on the kitchen door, followed by two longer knocks. As the meeting was about to start, Fleur hurried over to unlatch the deadbolt and found herself facing a rather horrified-looking Draco Malfoy.
"Ah – Monsieur Draco, welcome." She said, a smile playing across her face. She turned to glance over her shoulder at Molly Weasley's far-off expression and allowed him entry. "They are gathering in the other room, if you go through that door there." She paused, glancing down at the bandages still covering parts of his hands. "'ow are your 'ands?"
"They've been better," he said tersely, nodding to Mrs. Weasley and smiling thinly at Andromeda, "Aunt Andromeda, it is nice to see you again."
She returned his smile with an equally closed-off one of her own, "To you as well, Draco. Is your mother well?"
Draco shrugged, "She is how she always has been. She would love to see you tomorrow for Christmas tea if you have time."
Fleur shook her head at the exchange and slid the lock back into place on the door before moving away from the quiet conversation between aunt and nephew to take the last of the clean dishes off of the dish drain and begin to towel them dry.
"Fleur you really don't have to do that," Mrs. Weasley protested as she carefully stacked the clean plates back into the cupboard.
"It is no problem, I just want to be of assistance if I can," Fleur said with a pleasant smile. After this was all said and done, Fleur desperately hoped that she would able to rebuild the relationship that she had once had with Molly Weasley – before she and William had decided upon this ruse. The first step had been taken, and once the law was changed, there was nothing holding her back.
"Mrs. Weasley," Draco's voice cut across the room before the older woman could respond to Fleur and Fleur took the opportunity to spirit the last of the dishes back to their homes in various cupboards and shelves.
"Yes?" she asked, her tone wary.
He stood in the middle of the kitchen, looking incredibly out of place, fiddling with a bandage on his hand. "I wanted to say that I know that there is bad blood between our families, and my presence here is as that of an ally. I want these people gone as much as the rest of them do. And-" He looked down for a minute, "I heard you killed my aunt, thank you."
Molly Weasley looked taken aback and Fleur saw that as her queue to leave the kitchen. Whatever conversation had to be had between Draco Malfoy and Molly Weasley was not one for her ears. Andromeda cast an appreciative look her was as Fleur slipped out of the door and into the sitting room. The room was crowded with people, pipe smoke hanging low in the air as the members of the Order of the Phoenix milled about, waiting for the meeting to begin.
Fleur cut across the room to where Hermione and Harry were deep in discussion of an article in the newspaper, Fleur had read it already – Rita Skeeter's latest. The quality of the woman's stories when she was not making things up about seventeen (and fourteen) year-old students participating in the Triwizard Tournament was markedly better.
"Draco Malfoy has arrived," she said in a low voice. She knew that the wounds between all of them had yet to fully heal. She could see how Harry's shoulders tensed and Hermione's calm face became a little bit more drawn and worried. "'e is talking to Madame Tonks in the kitchen."
Hermione nodded, "She's his aunt."
Fleur grinned, "I 'ad gathered. 'e invited her to tea like a gentleman, I was quite … 'ow do you say… I think the expression is 'taken aback?'"
Harry shook his head, "He can be a right git, but he's got a good head on his shoulders for this sort of thing."
(Ah yes, the born politician.)
Or, as they do say, "a typical Slytherin." Fleur thought.
From across the room, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister for Magic (who really, in Fleur's opinion should not have been attending these meetings), cleared his throat loudly. "I know that it is Christmas Eve and everyone wants to get home to their families – but as we have not had a full meeting in some time, we must all be brought up to speed." He glanced around, "is someone going to take minutes so that we can distribute them afterwards to those who could not make it?"
One of the aurors that Fleur recognized from the resistance raised a quill and parchment, "Minutes are a go," he said cheerfully, before adding, as if as an afterthought, "Minister."
Shacklebolt nodded, "I must give the floor to Bill Weasley, who has been doing us a great service."
William moved to stand in the middle of the room. Fleur could see the nervousness on his face as he took a deep breath and began to talk. "I volunteered myself to go undercover for this mission and I've learned the following about the people who are behind the murder of Albert Stinewell and the attacks on several students through their mail.
"Their organization is small, it is not nearly as expansive as the Death Eater organization was, and they do not have a large number of sympathizers who have not joined up but still support the cause. I've been introduced to a Mister Jones, a Mister White and a Mister Smith – as well as a Missus Park. These are all, obviously, aliases. I've managed to get photographs of most of them, however. Harry and Draco Malfoy – who I thought was here," William glanced around, only to see Draco leaning against the kitchen door, "Oh good, you are here. Anyway, he and Harry are going through old Hogwarts Yearbooks to see if they can't identify who they are based on school photographs since Draco's been in the hospital for the past few weeks. So far we've got no luck, but they're all older individuals, so there's a chance that we just haven't connected a face to a name as of yet."
William took a deep breath, "I know where their hideout is, but the apparition points around it are carefully warded so it would ne be next to impossible to send Aurors in at this point in time because the entire place is well patrolled. On top of that, there's the fact that it's in the heart of muggle London. We've got some people watching their comings and goings, but as all the evidence is circumstantial, until we manage to catch them in the act, we can't do much on that end." He shrugged, "And that's all I've got. They're not a large organization, and Mister Jones, we're pretty sure he's the leader, has a nasty scar on his face that looks like it could have come from a veela or maybe a banshee. We're guessing that revenge is their motivation – but honestly, they don't trust me enough to reveal something like that."
One of the witches in the back of the room that Fleur recognized as being a ministry employee (she could not remember the department for the life of her, however), raised her hand and at William's nod, asked: "Is there any reason why we can't just shut them down on suspicion and build the case based on evidence we find after the fact?"
"That is not how justice works, Miranda," although silent for all of William's speech, Kingsley Shacklebolt was able to instantly command the attention of the room with a word. Fleur was impressed. "We cannot act as they did during the war or else we are no better than them. Besides, the government is so precarious as it is now, that we must treat very carefully to not upset the balance of power."
"But what can we do about them then?"
Hermione stepped forward, "I think that I might have the solution to that." All the eyes in the room turned to her and Fleur felt herself swell with pride. Hermione was the mate that the veela had desired, but it was her person and her confidence that Fleur had fallen in love with. "Given how the Prophet has been over the past few years, I don't know how many of you still keep subscriptions. If you have, you probably know what I'm talking about. Since Draco's attack, we've been writing letters together while we work on a law written to render all of the prejudicial laws passed during Voldemort's government invalid. It's going to be an all-encompassing nondiscriminatory act that covers both magical creatures, hybrid beings, muggle born individuals and several other sub-species that have been referred to us by various sources."
"Will it pass?" Someone across the room asked.
"I forsee no problems, as it solves far more problems than it creates," It was now Draco's turn to speak, and he spoke quickly and evenly. Fleur watched him as he spoke, so different from how he had spoken to Molly Weasley. Here was his stage, it seemed, surrounded by people who doubted him, those that he had to charm and prove his worth to.
He was going to make a great politician someday.
Soon after they distributed the copies of the law that Hermione and Draco had been working on, the meeting disbanded with a promise to meet up in a few days' time (and preferably not in the middle of the Weasley's living room – Harry offered the Black House) to discuss strategy and any revisions to the law. Fleur folded her copy and tucked it into the pocket of her muggle jeans and watched as people slowly slipped from the room in twos or threes.
She was surprised to see Hermione gathering up her winter jacket and two carefully wrapped Christmas presents. "Are you going 'ome?" She asked.
"I should try one last time," Hermione said sadly, pulling a knit cap down over her head and straightening it. It barely contained her hair and made her look like one of those blue creatures that Fleur remembered some of her muggle-born friends in primary school watching on occasion. "If not, I can just leave their Christmas presents and come back here."
Fleur pursed her lips, but said nothing. She knew enough about estranged families to know that it did not work quite like that, but it was Hermione's story and she had to discover such things on her own. It was not Fleur's place to judge her actions, considering there was so many ways she could have traveled home for the holidays, muggle or wizarding, without the Ministry catching her. She did what she had to, because she was not ready to face them – not until this was completely fixed.
"Well, bonne chance." Fleur said, reaching out and touching Hermione's cheek before lowering her hand self-consciously and squeezing Hermione's shoulder instead. She longed to reach out and kiss her goodbye, or even to go with her – but it was not the time.
(You could go anyway.)
Fleur shook her head slightly, the veela had a point, but Fleur was not going to rock the boat this close to Christmas. "Be safe."
Hermione smiled, tucking her cargo under her arm. "Happy Christmas Fleur."
"Joyeaux Noël," Fleur smiled, concentrating hard on her pronunciation. "Hermione."