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Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter.
The sound of the birds chirping happily woke Hermione. She was still tired, but she felt much better than in a long time. She opened her eyes and got her confirmation that last night was not some sort of weird, cruel dream that offered her a false hope. She watched a still-sleeping Fleur breathing rhythmically, the tempo hypnotizing. Hermione felt the familiar knot in her stomach and by now she had accepted it as part of her, much as the voices were.
For the first time, Hermione was able to closely observe Fleur. The blonde's cold icy features during the Triwizard were gone – Fleur now exuded an aura of elegance, warmth, and safety. The constant tensed look during the war was replaced by contentment. Hermione felt herself drawn to it all and had the sudden urge to read Fleur like a book, dissecting every piece of available information to convert them into knowledge.
Hermione inched nearer slowly, not wanting to wake Fleur. With barely any space between their noses, Fleur suddenly opened her eyes, causing Hermione to jump back in fright and nearly rolled over into the water. Fleur's quick reflexes caught the brunette just in time.
"I've got you," murmured the blonde, who wrapped her arms around Hermione, safe from the waters.
Hermione blushed. Her heart was pounding. She wished the water would swallow her whole so that Fleur would not see her face.
"Are you alright?"
Hermione looked anywhere but Fleur's eyes, which were inspecting the brunette with concern.
"I'm fine," Hermione stammered. She took a deep breath and repeated, calmer, "I'm fine."
Fleur gathered Hermione in her arms and stood, the raft slowly making its way to the jetty.
"Uh… Fleur?"
"You need to eat breakfast, Hermione," as if that was the most normal thing to do in the world after having a dramatical night.
Hermione had no idea what to say and truth be told, she liked this feeling of being safe and at peace in Fleur's arms, no matter how ridiculous it sounded. Besides, there was this issue of her feeling still rather weak.
They went inside the house and Fleur laid Hermione gently on the bed.
"I am not an invalid, Fleur; you don't have to treat me as if I'd break anytime."
Fleur covered Hermione with the blanket.
"I never meant to make you feel like one, Hermione," Fleur said gently. "But you're precious to me."
Predictably, Hermione blushed. What was it with the darned woman and her way with words?
"I won't be long," the blonde closed the room door.
Hermione stared at the ceiling, mindlessly counting the stray paint splashes. When she built the house, she was using magic except for the interior paint. She was determined to paint the interior by hand. That had taken her weeks to complete painting the small house, destroying quite a number of her old clothes. For her first house painting attempt she was quite happy with the results, although the inconsistent and random splashes all over the house made her cringe sometimes.
I think I'll repaint the house with light blue, she thought idly to herself. That project would help fill her time and take her mind off things. Would Fleur be happy with the colour? Or would she prefer another?
Hermione frowned.
Why would she care what Fleur thought of it? It was Hermione's house, not Fleur's. It was bad enough that the blonde shared her roof by deceit (Hermione still refused to admit that at the end of the day she allowed Fleur to stay) but to have Fleur have a say in how the house should look like? What next, building another room for Fleur? Hermione shuddered at the thought.
"A smile adorns your face better," Fleur opened the room door, carrying a tray with her.
"What did you make?" Hermione ignored Fleur's teasing. The brunette did not want to get involved in Fleur's weird games.
Hermione pushed herself up, sitting. Nausea hit her. Fleur immediately set the tray on the bedside table and rushed to help the brunette.
"It's alright, Hermione, take it easy," murmured the blonde, stacking up a couple of pillows and laying Hermione's head gently on them.
"I'm fine," Hermione protested weakly.
"You're finer than any I've ever seen," murmured Fleur, a twinkle in her eye.
Hermione looked away, blushing.
Fleur grabbed a chair and sat next to Hermione. The blonde took the bowl and stirred its contents.
"Weirdly enough, the only food that helps one feels better after taking Negubula is a simple oats," Fleur said conversationally.
Hermione stared at Fleur, eyes wide in fear. How did Fleur know the potion she took was a highly illegal substance, smuggled into the UK from Argentina, its purpose was to cause the taker to get high instantaneously for a long period of time, numbing one's pain and clarifying one's thoughts?
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
Fleur looked at Hermione, surprised, then her eyes were filled with a gentle understanding.
"I'm not judging you, Hermione," Fleur shook her head. "I'm here for you. I know how irritating Negubula's aftereffects can be, rendering you very weak, unable to even sit without vomiting bucket loads of your guts, and unable to eat nearly anything because your stomach just will reject the food. I find that oats help a lot so I made you some."
Hermione looked at Fleur curiously. Had Fleur taken Negubula too?
"Alright, ready or not, here I come," Fleur said in a sing-song voice, mimicking the sound a train made while playfully inching the spoon slowly towards Hermione.
Despite herself, the brunette laughed.
"Fleur, why did you divorce Bill?"
They were lying about on the jetty, enjoying the warm kisses of the sun. Hermione's left foot was ankle-deep in the clear waters of the lake, her left hand tracing the waters lazily, creating small waves. The voices had not come for the day, which was always a good thing. Next to her Fleur was closing her eyes, hidden under her sunglasses.
"It was many things going on at once," the blonde answered slowly. She opened her eyes, gazing at the clouds, recalling memories. "At first it was the little random meaningless fights. Then it turned into full-scale arguments. Both of us didn't want to be at home longer than necessary. The only skin contact we had was when one of us passed the salt to the other. Before we knew it, he was getting drunk daily, and I was sampling potions. We were… well, sometimes I still don't understand what went wrong with us. Molly dropping a million hints and at times nagging for us to start producing babies did not help either. Neither Bill nor I felt we were whole enough to raise happy children."
Fleur turned her head and looked into Hermione's eyes. "One day we had a long talk and decided to try at it again. But after a while, we both realised that we don't love each other anymore, not in the same way when we decided to get married. He is my good friend, and I am his. Nothing more. He decided to set off for Tibet to meditate, and we felt that it was best for us to go our separate ways. Now that I think about it, I feel that we could've avoided the situation from escalating but maybe we could only delay the eventualities. A couple of months after the war was over he had set his heart on a life of solitude."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Hermione replied softly.
Fleur gave her a gentle smile. "At least we didn't insist on prolonging a miserable relationship. What about yourself? Why did you break up with Ronald?"
Hermione looked away, her heart thumping. How much truth could she afford to say? Would Fleur able to detect her lies?
"I had some…personal issues." She paused. "I needed some space, some place where I can think clearly without interruptions. That's why I left."
"I'm glad you've returned," Fleur said softly.
Hermione looked at Fleur who was now lying on her side, smiling at the brunette. Hermione felt her eyes strayed down and quickly forced herself to gaze upwards. There was a twinkle in Fleur's eyes. Hermione's face reddened and she looked away.
"I noticed that communication between our home," Hermione quickly looked at Fleur and gave the blonde a frown at 'our home', "and the outside world is pretty much non-existent. Not that I mind. But your friends are quite worried about you, especially Ginny and Harry. They haven't heard from you since you left the wedding quite abruptly."
"How would you know that they're worried if you can't communicate with them?"
Fleur chuckled. "I went out a few times, silly. How else do you think I managed to get a constant supply of fresh groceries? Wait, how did you get groceries?"
"Canned foods," Hermione mumbled, looking away from Fleur's concerned eyes.
"I met Ginny and Harry a couple of times and it's been two months since they last saw you. They're quite worried about you, Hermione. They asked me whether your work has been giving you problems."
Hermione exhaled quietly.
"And what did you tell them?" Hermione was afraid of the answer. Ginny and Harry would be angry at her lies.
"I told them that you're fine but just pretty much busy at the moment," Fleur said quietly.
Hermione turned her head sharply, surprised.
"I'm your housemate, Hermione, not a spy," the blonde gave her a gentle smile. "You're too precious to me to do that. Your life is your story to tell, not mine."
Hermione was relieved. She blushed from Fleur's words, but glad to know that her lies were not found out. Well, Fleur figured out she was lying but that was different.
"However, I believe it is time for you to make a visit, before Harry hassle Kingsley to send a team of Aurors to track you down. The last time I saw him he looked pretty agitated about not knowing your whereabouts."
Hermione groaned. She was not in the mood to socialize with anyone. Except Fleur maybe. Wait, when did she start to be comfortable in socializing with Fleur Delacour?
"While I prefer to let you to take things at your own pace, I have to nag at you for this," Fleur continued.
"Fine, I'll drop by at Grimmauld place soon," sighed Hermione.
"I was thinking today, actually."
Hermione looked at the blonde who had a serious expression on her face. Oh what the hell.
"No matter what I say this will end up in me doing whatever you want me to do, isn't it?"
Fleur leaned forward, her face dangerously close, winking at Hermione.
"Only if you want it," the blonde purred seductively.
Hermione blushed. She swiftly got up and marched into the house. Damn that blasted French woman with her weird teasing and disregard for personal space!
The brunette muttered and grumbled all the way through while changing her clothes and getting ready to go. She checked her purse and groaned when there were no more drugs hidden inside. She went to her library and rummaged the shelves. She found a couple purple-coloured vials and sniffed at them, satisfied that they were still usable. As she dropped the vials into her purse, she froze when she noticed Fleur was watching her, casually leaning against the door frame.
"Are you ready?"
Hermione just nodded, gripping her purse. But Fleur said nothing and led them out of the house. The blonde was holding a carry bag in one hand. She took Hermione's hand and they Disapparated.
The front door of Grimmauld Place had never seemed so intimidating to Hermione. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe she should run. She could always drop by another time anyway. Nobody would know a thing.
Except for Fleur gripping her hand firmly, rooting her to the spot. The blonde knocked on the door. Moments later, the door swung open, revealing a disheveled-looking Ginny still in her Quidditch attire. The redhead just returned from training, it seemed. Ginny's eyes lit up when she saw Hermione and embraced the brunette tightly.
"I…need…air…"
Ginny released her deathly grip on Hermione and dragged her inside. Fleur, still holding Hermione's hand, followed suit.
"Where have you been, woman? We were all so worried about you. Heck, Harry was ready to send an Auror squad to track you down. I was even contemplating on asking all my journalist contacts to write up about your sudden disappearance and spread it all over the country hoping that one soul will be able to tell us of your whereabouts."
Hermione had the horrifying mental image of the whole British Wizarding World looking at every nook and cranny for her, radio blasting about her every hour, and sniffer dogs released to the wilderness to find one clue. She shuddered. There'd be no way for her to roam around peacefully after that. She looked at Ginny, whose hands were on the hips, giving her a deathly glare.
"Um… I'm sorry?"
Ginny rolled her eyes.
"You're lucky Fleur here calmed us down before we create a shit storm. I personally think you should be chained to a basement somewhere so that we know you're always there."
"I believe that's where I come in," Fleur said seductively, her eyes holding a glint of mischief.
Hermione felt her face reddened and found the polished floor was very interesting. Ginny laughed.
"Well, at any rate, I must be off," Fleur said apologetically. She handed Ginny the carry bag, saying, "there's some strawberry shortcakes I baked this morning." Fleur then kissed Hermione's cheek lightly, murmuring, "I'll pick you at ten."
The blonde left, closing the door gently. Hermione felt her hand was empty and she had the sudden urge to go out, drag Fleur back in, and hold the blonde's hand again. The brunette shook her head at that thought. Why would she want to hold Fleur's hand?
Hermione followed Ginny into the living room and set herself comfortably on the sofa while waiting for the redhead to change into a set of clean clothes.
"You won't believe how annoying Pansy can be as a sports club owner," Ginny grumbled, reentering the living room, carrying two small plates. She handed one to Hermione. It was Fleur's strawberry shortcake. "That woman is tougher than the coach. She's cold and cruel, I tell you. Cold and cruel!"
"What did she do?" Hermione took a bite. Delicious as always. It never ceased to amaze her how brilliant Fleur was when it came to cooking. The blonde was the total opposite of Hermione, who cooked because she had to eat and not social enough to get take-aways.
"That dictator increased the training duration and intensity, and just now informed us she just hired two extra coaches. I thought I would die." Ginny closed her eyes and sighed in pleasure, enjoying the cake. "I tell you, Bill is such a fool to let that woman go. Oh well, his loss, your gain."
Hermione choked. "W-what do you mean?"
Ginny rolled her eyes. "Oh come on, girly, don't be coy with me." The redhead leaned forward, eyes full of determination. Hermione groaned internally. Ginny was going to give her hell. "So tell me, was it good?"
"As you said yourself, the cake is delicious. And no missy, I know that bloody glint of yours. Nothing is happening between the two of us. So get your head out of the gutter."
Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Nothing? Not even that nauseatingly sweet lovey-dovey display just now?"
Hermione blushed and cursed Fleur internally. That damned woman.
"No, nothing happened," the brunette insisted. Why was Ginny so skeptical? "She's French, they kiss everybody all the time. Merlin, she's just my housemate, Gin!"
"An ordinary housemate?"
"Yes, an ordinary housemate."
Ginny bit her spoon, thinking. "So let me get this straight, pun not intended." Hermione shot her a glare. "Nobody knows where you live; nobody knows exactly the work you do, not even your best friends. Except that a certain gorgeous blonde French woman who is single and very much available, and is everybody's dream, who just happens to be living with you, the highly secretive war heroine who also happens to be very single, very much available, and very much desired by all of Britain?"
Hermione could feel her temper rising. "I don't know what you're getting at, Gin, but yes nothing is happening between us!"
"Alright, alright, there's no need to go mad over that." Ginny took another bite. "So is the sex good?"
Hermione glared at Ginny while trying to keep herself from blushing. "Excuse me?"
Ginny laughed. "Alright, I get it, let's leave it as another mystery of yours. I mean, I understand how you feel. Getting hounded by the press and being asked stupid questions about having sex with Harry is annoying."
Hermione groaned. "Whatever you say, Gin. Whatever you say."
Hermione loathed admitting Fleur was right. The brunette did miss this easy banter with her friends. Why was she hiding away all the time?
She spent the whole evening at Grimmauld Place, chatting and gossiping with Ginny. Harry had sent an owl just before dinner time, saying he would be home very late. They had dinner, just the two of them, and before they knew it there was a knock at the door. Hermione glanced at the clock. The clock struck at ten. How punctual.
"I envy you, 'Mione, I really do," Ginny said as she went to open the door. "Whenever Harry said he'll pick me at a certain time, he will be late at least by ten minutes. I should've waited till Fleur become available, shouldn't I?"
Hermione did not bother to dignify that with a reply. She slowly rose from her chair and grabbed her purse. As she neared the door, she overheard Ginny whispering rather loud to Fleur, "… I don't know how you did it, but congrats all the same! Even if you have to sex her up every day, but make sure she comes to visit here often."
Hermione groaned. Ginny would never let things go once an idea formed in her mind. Fortunately, Fleur only chuckled at that instead of replying with her usual weird humour that could blow Ginny's imaginations out of proportion.
"I hope you've had an enjoyable time, Hermione," Fleur greeted her and kissed the brunette's cheek.
Hermione pointedly ignored Ginny wiggling her eyebrows at the brunette.
"Have a great night you too," the redhead's voice was full of mischief. Hermione would never live this down.
Fleur grabbed Hermione's hand gently and they both Disapparated back to the lake.
One afternoon, after a whole night of struggle trying to sleep wrestling with the voices that were suspiciously reminding of Hermione of a play depicting the burnings of witches, and only managing to fall asleep when Fleur, somehow sensing Hermione's distress, carried the brunette to the bed, cuddled her, and hummed for a long time, Hermione woke up to find herself alone on the bed, the house very still.
Still hazy from waking up, Hermione felt a slight panic creeping in and stumbled about the house, looking for the person she had gotten used to live together with for the past three months.
Hermione found her in the library, dusting the shelves and quietly humming to herself. The brunette had never felt so relieved. Without meaning to, a tear trickled down her cheek. Fleur must have noticed, for the blonde stood in front of her, cupping her cheeks in her gentle palms, and wiped the tear.
"I thought you left," Hermione said in a small voice. She felt childish and foolish. Why was she even panicking for?
"Leaving is not part of my plans," murmured Fleur, enveloping Hermione in her embrace.
The blonde let Hermione cried quietly for a bit. Hermione was angry at herself. Why was she crying? What made her so frightened? She concluded that she must have been affected by her dreams, where a boy that sounded like one of the regular voices that paid her visit begged his mother to never leave her. The mother left.
Fleur made her some tea and scones. With food in her stomach, Hermione felt slightly better. Fleur sat opposite her as per usual at the kitchen table, watching Hermione eat slowly with her dancing, gentle eyes that never failed to unnerve Hermione.
"Why do you not read books anymore?" Fleur asked quietly.
Hermione swallowed.
"The library is full of dust and for someone who loves books, I doubt you'll let them get in that state," the blonde continued, eyes concerned. There was not a slight hint of judgment there. Hermione looked away. "I've never seen you read a book since I live here."
What could Hermione say? What should she say? That she had lost her faith in books? That she felt betrayed by the pages that never failed to lend her their aid before? That she was afraid whenever she started to read a page she'd be obsessively desperate trying to find answers on why she's plagued by an incurable madness that had no name?
"I've been busy," Hermione mumbled. What other excuse could she give?
Fleur took her hand and massaged it gently. Hermione felt herself starting to relax. Damn Fleur and her instincts on knowing how to reduce Hermione's tension. The brunette blushed, her stomach flipped. The scones disagreed with her, it seemed.
Hermione looked into those pair of gentle blue eyes, eyes that held acceptance, eyes that exuded warmth. Eyes that made Hermione felt like blurting out everything that she had been keeping tightly inside. But she did not. She said nothing.
"Take your own time, I won't pry," Fleur kissed her inner wrist softly. Hermione gulped and snatched her hand away. Her heart was thumping wildly.
Fleur cleared the table and brought them to the sink. Despite her magical abilities, Fleur had the tendency to do things with her own hands, just like Hermione.
Hermione sunk her head in her hands, groaning internally. She was so conflicted and confused with everything. Nothing made sense anymore. Nearby, Fleur hummed quietly, washing the dishes. That calmed the brunette. Maybe she should do what she should have done long ago. Maybe it was time.
Or maybe not.