declare this an emergency..
come on and spread a sense of urgency…
and pull us through..
and pull us through..
and pull us through…
this is the end of the world..
~Apocalypse Please by Muse
v. apocalypse please
"The Imperius Curse," Moody said darkly, "is but one of the three Unforgivable Curses. Use it 'n you'll be sent straight to Azkaban Prison. Now, the Ministry don't want me showin' you how these Curses work…but you need to be informed. You need to be ready. You need to be aware… Constant vigilance!
"Now… I'd like to have a volunteer for my little jar of tricks here… but who'd like to step forward? Eh? Come on! A little challenge – let's see who of all'ye are any good at throwin' off the Curse! An' from me, no less!"
The entire Fourth Year Defence Against the Dark Arts class of Gryffindors and Slytherins remained silent. The class held a foreboding feeling about itself; the Professor in question having quite a lot to do with the source of the sombre mood. Only one window was open; the rest were closed and nearly stifling everyone in the classroom. All except for three people in the room looked absolutely mortified at the prospect of Professor Moody performing the Curse on them. Two of the three were smirking slightly while they tried in vain to get their third to join in on their entertainment. Hermione and Neville in particular appeared to be the most appalled of the lot.
Draco and Pansy were elbowing their Veela friend encouragingly, but she merely continued to flick her quill back and forth between her fingers, hitting the end and tip against the desk successively. The sound of her bored fidgeting was the only sound in the room other than bated breath and occasional swallows from the other frightened students. Her perfect posture endured despite her obvious boredom with the class – the glaze and passive expression upon her face gave her away, however. The bit of sunlight shining through the window in the back already made her blonde locks stand out, and Moody was eyeing her carefully, knowingly…
"Ah, come on Fleur," Draco murmured to his friend. Fleur ignored him. "I know you've got it in you. None of these cowards in here could fight it. I know you can."
"Yeah Fleur," Pansy chimed in, a devious smirk upon her face. Fleur ignored her, too. "Come on… Show up those blood traitor idiots in here."
"Delacour," Moody piped up, "why don't you come and help me demonstrate a few things… I've heard of your…talents…"
All eyes that already weren't on Fleur, which was just a typically scarce two belonging to Hermione Granger, immediately darted to her with a scowl to go with it. Draco and Pansy smirked triumphantly and egged their best friend on a tad more before the quarter Veela sighed and graciously stood from her desk. Endless legs of sweet seventeen underneath a stylish skirt strutted down the aisle, trademark designer heels clicking upon the hardwood, only further entrancing everyone in the room whether they liked it or not. Even Professor Moody, the pervert; his electric eye had the nerve to lose control for a split second before he took a swig of his elusive flask…
And everyone continued to watch while Fleur's robes billowed at her heeled feet while she retrieved her wand from her pocket, typical confidence exuding from her as always not only in her automatic strut, but in the unconcern upon her face. The sunlight even followed her right to the fore of the class where she finally stood just at Moody's desk before he kindly gestured for her to face the class. She suppressed an eye twitch and did as she was told, folding her arms over her chest with her wand tapping her forearm, one knee bent, and staring above everyone's faces. Hermione managed to stop scowling for some reason, however.
"Wonderful, you've already got your wand out. Let me ask you a few questions about that wand of yours, if you don't mind…" Fleur pursed her lips momentarily and shrugged while Moody began to hobble slowly down the aisles of desks, hands clasped thoughtfully behind his back. "Would you mind explainin' to us what your wand characteristics are?"
"Rosewood. Nine and a half inches," Fleur replied evenly.
"And the core…?"
"Veela hair core."
"Veela, really?" Moody asked with interest while the rest of the class minus the usual suspects murmured excitedly. Fleur clenched her jaw and said nothing. "Where'd you manage to get that core? Last I checked, Ollivander don't make wands with Veela hair cores."
"He doesn't."
"Then might I ask how you obtained such a wand?"
"You can. That doesn't mean I'll answer you."
Moody turned to face Fleur, a rather friendly scowl upon his tattered face. Fleur matched his gaze with a warning one of her own; she knew what he was trying to do. Draco was scowling at the old man and Hermione was looking at Fleur questioningly. The question behind her eyes was curious and scathing as ever, but Fleur paid her no mind. The presence of anyone else in the room was lost on Fleur while she kept eye contact with the haggard ex-Auror. But Fleur knew whatever look she gave him would only amuse him further. It was a game with no loopholes; no chances for victory. Both of them knew this. Moody licked his lips thoughtfully before speaking once more.
"You're part Veela, aren't you?"
"One quarter only."
"But still enough to know how to truly use your powers…am I right?"
"You are."
"So it'd be of no surprise whatsoever if you passed my tests this afternoon, right?"
"I don't know," Fleur replied with a curt raise of her eyebrows, mouth still set. Moody smirked darkly at this. "Why don't you just try, Moody?"
Moody huffed before chuckling a bit and hobbling back to her side. Fleur was actually taller than the old ex-Auror, and many Slytherins chuckled at this.
"But I know you, Delacour," Moody growled, "you don't like to have your…power…ripped away. You like to have power at all costs. No matter what. Even if you don't think you do, I'm sure the desire's there… Let me show you – Imperio!"
Nothing happened. Fleur only continued to stand there, glaring at Professor Moody. It was simply as if he had blown air from his mouth that clearly had no effect on the control Fleur had over her mind. The students gasped, completely shocked; they were clearly expecting more of a fight on Fleur's half. Moody grimaced, his electric blue eye going haywire for a moment before she shook his head momentarily and coughed. He was clearly thrown and was also expecting more of a fight on her half. But Fleur genuinely looked as if nothing had happened. Her calmness, forced or not, continued to breeze from her while she watched him; she watched his every move, wary of what he had in mind for her next.
But Moody merely bowed his head slightly before stepping forward a bit and handing his wand to Fleur. Fleur took it and pocketed her own before Moody hobbled a distance away from her, then turned to face her once more. The class was simply enraptured by mental questions that would soon be answered.
Hermione actually looked the most fearful of the lot.
"Go on, Delacour… Go on… Curse me. Use something… I see that glint in your eyes. I see it… Oh, what…? Am I making you angry? Are you going to cry…? Cry like a little girl? Eh? EH?—"
Moody's derision was cut off by Fleur brandishing his own wand at him and using the Cruciatus Curse without saying a word. The haggard man actually succumbed to her and yelled and hollered in gruff pain, slowly falling to his knees to bow down to the commanding woman before him. Fleur had power, she had control – this man was not going to rip it away from her, especially not in front of everyone else…
Fleur wanted him to feel pain; she wanted to shut him up. She didn't care if the class was in absolute horror. For all she knew, they were dead. Dead… Dead….. Screams that didn't belong to Moody rang in her mind, and she shut her eyes for a moment before stopping the Curse. The screaming wouldn't stop, even if Moody's did…
She lost it. She really did lose control… And now she was paying for it for the second year in a row. It was the first time in her life that she felt uncomfortable with so many eyes upon her. She held Moody's wand with a vice-like grip and her arm visibly trembled before she slammed the wood on the desk loud enough to startle everyone else in the room. Moody still lay on the ground, a heap of pain and ironic laughter…
The screams, the loss of control, Moody…they all sent a furious edge to Fleur's features before she immediately stormed out, wary of the possible transformation. She reprimanded herself heavily as she went, still completely aware of everyone's eyes on her, but still not caring. They were unimportant. Nothing mattered except for getting away from this man and what she knew he was. He brought back too many painful memories, too many sleepless nights and crying days in that Malfoy Manor whilst the idiots concocted their plans so freely in front of her.
Everyone watched her leave, transfixed by the angry click of her heels, at Fleur's clear loss of control, and how the hell Moody knew what to say to push her buttons.
Fleur never returned to Defence Against the Dark Arts that year.
Friday afternoon was upon Hogwarts, but not upon Hermione. She was finally eighteen – an adult. But she'd completely forgotten about her birthday. There was just something so unimportant about her age, her supposed growth and maturity. There'd been something far more pressing nagging at her ever since earlier that week.
She was sitting in History of Magic with the Hufflepuffs, Ron and Harry at either side of her, thinking. Just thinking.
Thinking, and quite unable to blink at all…
When Hermione awoke the next morning after falling asleep in Fleur's arms, she had to keep from squeaking at her mistake – Fleur was bound to be furious and confused. Hermione slowly moved her head to look at Fleur directly, and she nearly felt her face freeze off from the power in the Slytherin's gaze… But it was not one of fury or confusion or even coldness.
Hermione actually had the pleasure of being under the gaze of a passive Fleur; one that didn't look at all perturbed by another, a girl in fact, being in her arms. Fleur actually seemed to look as if she was used to such things. Hermione wondered in horror if she was just hallucinating again, but Fleur's eyes were in focus. She wasn't smiling contentedly or anything. She looked…well, normal for other people. But not normal for Fleur… This concerned her.
"Ah, Fleur… I'm…I'm sorry… Well… I didn't mean to fall asleep, it just…happened…and…well… um…"
Fleur licked her lips and inched herself as slowly as possible so that her face was as close to Hermione's as she could get it. Hermione fought back a blush, albeit difficultly, and tried to keep her face where it was so as to not show Fleur that she was afraid. But this was quite the lie – Hermione was terrified. Fleur was her strong patient who was quite unable to move about on her own thanks to the one in her arms, and now she was inching closer and closer with such an unorthodox expression…
Hermione held her breath once Fleur achieved the perfect, tiny distance between their noses, eyes, forehead, lips… She saw that Fleur's lips were parted, and a very small smirk was upon her features while Hermione took in the allure of her heritage, and her warm, odourless breath that somehow smelled so sweet… Hermione was unsure of herself; unsure of what was going on, why Fleur was doing this, and what her feelings were trying to tell her.
She watched the darkness float across Fleur's eyes, she watched her pupils widen, she tried to learn the hue those eyes of blue gave to her. Colour, closeness, visual texture, and…confusion – this is what her eyes were giving. This is what Fleur was giving to Hermione…
But wasn't that…not normal?
"You're a strange one."
Fleur spoke audibly, softly; there was levelness to her tone but Hermione may have been fooling herself into trying to pick out more than what was really there. She was so busy trying to do that, that it took a little longer than usual for her to formulate her well-crafted response.
"What do you mean…?" Hermione was baffled; only Fleur could come up with the most unexpected reactions to anything she did.
"Your eyes give yourself away."
"I s-still don't understand?"
"Ohh…you don't understand… What is it that you don't understand?"
"I don't understand what you're implying about me." Hermione frowned slightly, somehow finding insult to Fleur's emphasis… Fleur smirked a little more and Hermione's frown lessened. Slightly…
"Your eyes show so much. What else is there to say, hidden or not?"
"I… I don't know, Fleur… You're acting rather strange, is all… You never smirked with me before and I didn't realise you were so comfortable being close to…me…"
"No one has ever been comfortable being this close to you, hm?"
"Well…no…"
"Prude."
"I beg your pardon?"
"What? I only called you a prude. You ask too many unnecessary questions. Why don't you figure out what you really want to ask me and get back to me later? You've class."
"Yes…yes, all right… I'll think about it…"
"You already know what it is. I can see it in your eyes. Don't underestimate me…"
Hermione licked her lips instinctively while she quietly caught her breath; she'd been holding it in all this time… She looked down to her parchment and saw that she'd written Don't underestimate her and Past over and over and over across random places. She hardly noticed Ron and Harry's fearful eyes upon her, watching her, trying to figure out the source of the hollowness in her normally attentive eyes.
Something was simmering inside of her. A broil of curiosity about Fleur – a curiosity that she'd never harboured for anyone or anything began to scratch away at her. It was ever so delicate, the scratching; like the patterns Fleur traced upon her back. Like the grasp she had on what Fleur was doing, why she herself was so confused and curious, and why in the world Harry was poking her incessantly—
"Hermione, class is over…"
"What?"
Harry and Ron exchanged looks when Hermione merely continued to stare out into the beyond. She was unreadable, unmovable, unbelievable – Hermione was still scribbling absently even while not looking at the parchment. She kept writing, writing some words over others obviously without knowing. She knew what her heart was telling her to do but she wasn't sure she understood completely. Ron in particular looked slightly scared at what he and Harry were reading, both of them quite aware of what this was all about.
Fear. Unknown. She needs my help. Something happened to her. I need to find out what. She needs me.
"Hermione," Harry tried again. Hermione set her quill down and turned to face him, looking as if she were surprised to see him. Harry tried to ignore this and kept his voice steady, his emerald eyes edged with a knowing curve. "Let's go. We need to talk."
"Sure, Harry."
Ron looked around warily while the three of them finally made their way out of the classroom. Harry wore a subtly bedazzled expression upon his face while he watched his two best friends carefully. Hermione… Hermione was looking rather passive. Passive to mask her relapse, perhaps…
Hermione felt almost as if she were floating along the desolate halls, not at all phased when Malfoy and friends, sans Fleur, rounded the corner and tried to assault her with their words. When the Gryffindor merely continued on her way to the Great Hall for dinner, Harry and Ron in tow, the Slytherins looked extremely dishevelled by her lack of care for what they had to say. Pansy in particular had a mild glint in her coal eyes while she and her friends watched them go. She and Malfoy exchanged looks that said enough, and they all followed after them without a word.
The Trio picked a rather secluded spot at the Gryffindor table to sit and have their meals. Harry and Ron sat across from Hermione who was eating just fine, but hardly seemed aware that she was doing anything other than sitting down. She was pondering about her patient, already adapting a speed to her eating so as to not keep Fleur waiting for too long. Fleur was not the sort to be cranky or bratty about things, but Hermione just wanted to be sure.
Ron looked overhead and noticed a thunderstorm brewing above the floating candles on the Enchanted ceiling. He swallowed and looked back down to his confidant, blushing considerably when Hermione made eye contact with him, but she seemed to be looking past him. Harry put his fork down and cleared his throat, shedding the awkwardness of the situation and before Ron could turn any more crimson than he already was.
"Hermione," Harry said sternly. Hermione shifted her gaze to him, finally coming back to Earth for him. Harry ran a hand through his unruly hair and cleared his throat once more for emphasis. "Look… Ron and I've noticed that you seem really off today. Is there anything you'd like to tell us?"
"Have I really?" Hermione looked as if the notion had never occurred to her.
"Yes…"
"Oh." Hermione considered this and chewed her food thoughtfully for a moment. "Well I suppose you're right. I've just had a lot of my mind, that's all."
"Does this have anything to do with Fleur?"
"Fleur… Well… Yes. Yes, it has everything to do with Fleur. I was completely wrong about her…all these…years."
"You mean you've finally figured out that she isn't shady or anything of the sort?"
"Yes… Yes and no. She's not the horrible person I thought she was after all… It feels…different to see her in a different light after being ignorant to it for so long. And…well… I don't know, Harry. I like it."
"You like it so much to the point where you zone out in class? That's not like you."
"Harry, you know as well as I do that Binns lectures about the same thing over and over on Fridays."
"Okay, and what about yesterday during Potions? You kept looking around and almost ruined your cauldron."
"What's with the third degree?"
"Hermione…" Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair again, trying to stay calm. "You've not been yourself ever since Wednesday. Here it is, Friday, and you're being dodgy. It's your birthday too and you haven't even brought that up. Is there something you're not telling us?"
"No, Harry. No. Why would you think I'm not telling you something?"
"I… I don't know, Hermione. You're just…acting really strange… Ron and I are worried about you."
"That's really sweet of you but I'm fine. I promise. Besides, it is my birthday. I'm allowed a little leverage with myself, don't you think? Now, I'm going to check on Fleur. I'll see you two later."
Hermione smiled at her friends before slinging her bag over her shoulder and scampering out of the Great Hall to visit her newest friend. She was humming that same tune to herself, a smile adorning her face. Not even the Slytherins looking at her questioningly as she passed their line of sight bothered her. She felt like she was floating again, quite unsure as to why, but she felt fine. Nothing could possibly deter her. It was a strange, out of place feeling. But there was nothing she could do to fight it, nor did she want to. It was starting to become as natural as walking; and that she continued to do while she remembered to pick up some more food for Fleur from the kitchens.
Ron swallowed the lump in his throat and put his present and letter to Hermione back in his bag while Harry rubbed his shoulder consolingly, watching her go with a very pained expression on his face…
Fleur lay in bed, knees bent while she used her thighs as a makeshift desk. She was completing the last of her homework Hermione had graciously brought her earlier that evening. The two of them were in silence, finishing their work for the weekend. Fleur sated herself by occasionally glancing at the back of Hermione's white blouse and hair while she worked diligently at her desk under the only light in the room. She also thought about the Gryffindor's adventures with her comrades earlier that Hermione so eagerly told her about.
Hermione had the misfortune of taking over her duties, and as such, was required to go on rounds with the Head Boy on certain nights. Right after Hermione handed Fleur her work and asked various questions about her state of being, she had to hurry off to meet Draco in the corridors to begin their rounds. Fleur felt rather indifferent about Hermione's dilly dallying with Draco, but Hermione certainly seemed disgruntled about it when she returned a few hours ago.
Draco and Hermione were walking the corridors in a strained, civil silence. How Draco found it in him to be civil was beyond Hermione, but she didn't dare complain whilst she perused the halls with Fleur's comrade. She had long since learned to not judge others, but Draco and the other Slytherins sans Fleur seemed like such easy targets for her lingering suspicions – Draco wasn't sneering, he wasn't smirking, frowning; nothing!
The only words they exchanged for a long time were about duties, and it was simply Draco droning to Hermione about regular procedures and precautions they were to take each night they patrolled together. Hermione was wary of this; usually he'd be taking the opportunity to slander her with his words. After another particularly long and awkward silence, Hermione spoke up about this.
"Look Malfoy, I know you're probably angry at me because I have Fleur's title for the time being. I just want to make it clear that I didn't do anything to harm her—"
"She told me what happened, Granger. Don't flatter yourself."
"Oh. Well, good. So…you're not angry?"
"Why do you care?"
"I'm just trying to be civil, Malfoy. I'm tired of the animosity between us, really. I always have been."
"Well the world doesn't revolve around you; let's get that straight right now. Things won't end because you want them to. Don't even try with me. You're even worse than I am."
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me, damnit." Draco stopped abruptly and Hermione turned her head to the side while she faced him, taking a deep breath while she regarded him sternly. "You hated her for all these years. Last I checked, you were the only one in this bloody castle who had something against her. You can't accept when someone is better than you. I don't even know you, nor do I want to, but it's clear as crystal to me. That's the reason why you only have two friends, Granger. Trust me – Fleur's not one of them."
"First of all, I don't think the world revolves around me. Second, Fleur is my friend. I've gotten over that ignorant phase of mine if you must know."
"Ohhh and now that you're over it you think things will just be all dilly dally with my best friend?"
"Yes! Fleur's a wonderful person, regardless if she associates herself with people like you—"
"You don't even know half of the reasons why she bleeding associates herself with me. And I bet if you did you'd be out of her room faster than I can say 'I told you so'. Actually, invite me to the shindig when she finally does tell you. I'd love a front row seat to the show."
"Malfoy, just stop it. I trust her. I'm not walking out on her regardless of what she's been through."
"Because she's such a wonderful person? She's got you wrapped around her long ass fingernails, Granger. Get out now while you can. I'm actually being nice, so I suggest you follow my generous advice."
"I think you're just jealous."
The look on his face was one of absolute disgust, and Hermione nearly cringed at the sight. But she was all too used to letting her mouth sputter whatever she felt was dignified when she was around Draco. It was the same path her mindframe took with Fleur for too many years beforehand, really.
"Jealous? Merlin, Granger, what are you on? You're the last thing other than Weasley's arse that I'd be jealous of! Like I said – you're even worse than I am. You don't know everything. Fleur can't just be analysed like some book, then you've got her figured out only after a few days of reading her. I give her credit for being the slyest bitch I've ever had the fortune to meet."
"Sly…?"
"That's right. Actually, go on – try and read her. I dare you. You'll be miserable and broken by the end of it. What a wonderful fate to wish upon you. It's quite fitting if I do say so myself. Just don't go running to anyone, 'specially not me when you end up a crying mess. I know you will. I know her."
"What a load of rubbish, Malfoy. I'm not falling for your act."
"This is like a bloody apocalypse; you suddenly scampering in her life, mine too, all on account for you being the supposed hero. She's not a damsel in distress and she's not your friend. You'll fall soon enough, Granger. Count on it."
Just as Fleur finished her essay for Charms, she carefully set all of her things on the nightstand, cautious to not move her head at all as she did. She regarded Hermione with heavy-lidded eyes as she watched her finish the last of her work as well. The girl kept chewing the end of her quill anxiously in between note-taking, and Fleur felt a slow simmer behind her own eyes while she continued to observe.
A sleepy haze settled throughout her body, and a gentle prickle of shivers took over her head while she watched Hermione, listened to the scratching of her quill, observed the bit of her face she could see from her angle… Hermione looked rather angry. Draco must have struck several nerves, it seemed. The poor boy was probably just overprotective. Understandable. But Hermione didn't understand this.
Fleur thought about this. Hermione said that she trusts her. Curious. Fleur continued to ponder Hermione's words, mulling them over carefully and leaving no letter unturned while she continued to watch the wordsmith herself at her desk. It was quite late, but that didn't seem to stir Hermione at all. Fleur herself felt rather languid, effects of her vertigo lingering strongly while she continued to watch the Gryffindor at work. For once, she didn't care about fighting the illness.
It wasn't until Hermione stopped and put her things away that Fleur realised her tired state. She was still too tired to realise that Hermione had walked over to her side, looking down at her worriedly while she bit her lip and gently pulled at her fingers. Fleur raised a lazy eyebrow at Hermione, prompting her to explain the reason for her odd behaviour. Well, Hermione seemed to always behave this way around Fleur, she supposed. As if it really mattered why.
"Fleur, ah… Have you eaten?"
"I have."
"All right… Well…it's rather late… Is there anything you'd like me to do for you?"
"I'm not sure. What do you have in mind?" That strange drip of playfulness fell in rivulets from Fleur's tone and she found herself smirking at her mild entertainment with the flush of Hermione's cheeks. She's not so bad, really. Well, not yet, at least. Fleur was yet to be sure of anything quite yet. "I really don't have very many options, you know. I'm sure you must have something in mind."
"I… I can prepare a b-bath…for you…"
"For us. It would be terribly rude of me to not include you. It's large enough for the both of us."
"B-but… Fleur, I don't think I'm…comfortable…with that…"
"Hm? We're both women here. I don't see anything wrong with it. Either way, I'm quite unable to get up and bathe myself. You'll have to get used to these kinds of things."
"…I suppose."
"Good. You'll join me then. Do prepare the bath for us. We can use it as…friend time."
"Y-yes… Yes, all right… I'll… I'll go do that."
"Mhm."
Fleur chuckled softly, and Hermione tensed slightly from the neck up before she was off to the loo in the next room. She preoccupied herself with staring at the buttons of her nightshirt that ended just at her thigh while Hermione went about her task. If Fleur didn't know any better, she thought she heard the girl mumbling to herself about something to do with scented soaps. Fleur chuckled again; Hermione was making far too much of the situation than it actually was.
The quarter Veela mused to herself about the reasons for Hermione's jittery demeanour. It was a vague improvement from the scowling of yesteryear, but there was also a lacklustre in Hermione's eyes. Fleur blinked away the sleep from her heavy eyes and continued to lay and watch the open door, inside of which her friend was hard at work. She observed the light coming from the room just past her curved blonde fringes running across her eye, fighting the need to shake them from her face due to the inevitable forthcoming of pain that would take over her head.
Anger at the situation was hard to come by for Fleur – she seldom grew angry at anything to begin with. It was, to her, a loss of control to show anything other than passiveness or mockery or sarcasm. Hermione was bound to ask questions about this, and about everything else for that matter if she even had it in her to say anything at all tonight.
But Hermione did have it in her to peek out the doorframe and try to compose herself before walking over to Fleur with her eyes glued to the floor. Fleur raised both of her eyebrows at this, and the gesture nearly startled Hermione when she finally reached the Veela and looked at her for a moment. Hermione swallowed; Fleur relaxed her face.
Both of them still felt something spark inside of them in their silence…
Fleur was surprised; Hermione actually leaned over and settled her hands on the top button of her nightshirt. The delicate pressure from the unfamiliar touch of another's hand upon her chest was inviting, and it showed in the lazy look of urgency Fleur was giving to Hermione, who, bless her, was trying her hardest to keep her nerves from showing themselves…
Hermione unclasped the first button with some frivolous difficulty, her usual cut-throat meticulousness lost upon her while she quickly busied herself with moving to the next button and not lingering on what little of Fleur she'd just revealed to her virgin eyes. Fleur continued breathing just fine while she watched the worry and apprehension swim in Hermione's eyes, nearly drowning the poor thing in her own emotions.
The torrid fear that was ever so present in Hermione's darkening vessels spread to her face quickly, more and more the further down her hands ventured after finishing with the painful labour of unbuttoning the cream silk about Fleur's equally creamy, silky flesh. With every breath Fleur took, the topmost area of her shirt began to settle lower and lower upon her body, excruciatingly slowly but surely revealing what Hermione will no doubt have the pleasure of bearing witness to in just a few moments' time…
Unknown was finally becoming a truth for poor Hermione while she finished with the last of the buttons. Fleur continued to lie upon her bed, her head tilted to the side in curiosity while Hermione kept her hands over the finally, completely unbuttoned shirt over her thigh. Hermione seemed to be torn, and Fleur had all of the answers for her just waiting under the only thing keeping the girl from feeling the very pores from which the sensual haze she was no doubt feeling was emanating from. Fleur absently twirled a lock of her sheet of blonde about her finger before resigning herself to brushing one of her sleeves off of her shoulder. But, again, Hermione surprised her – the girl had the same thing in mind, and just so happened to have placed her slightly trembling hand upon Fleur's smooth one.
A lazy grin curled about Fleur's features while she bit her lip; Hermione did not retract her hand away. Something was keeping her there. This something was very interesting to Fleur. Very interesting indeed. Hermione swallowed before guiding Fleur's hand to the removal of her sleeve while her other hand busied itself with doing the same on Fleur's other side.
There was a strange ambiance about the room while Fleur and Hermione listened to their synched breaths, one increasing in fervour, the other running to catch up and stay there. It was unknown as to who was leading and who was following; both were entirely too focused on Hermione slowly revealing the rest of Fleur's body. Again, who was the more focused remains to be said.
Fleur alternated in between watching Hermione's eyes and her careful hands brushing on her warm torso as the girl worked. A tense concentration was about her, trying in vain to wrap completely around her. But Fleur removed it with merely her eyes as simply as Hermione continued to remove her shirt without fail. The poor thing didn't let her eyes linger too long on the exposed swell of Fleur's chest, which really was divine like everyone claimed it to be. Hermione was either taking her time or biding her time; whichever it was made Fleur relax her face and continue to watch the red slowly wrap itself more and more around Hermione's face.
And once her task was finally completed, she bent down just a little more, careful to not let her eyes loiter upon the three sources that could easily make any man's nose bleed while she curled her delicate hand about Fleur's back. The feeling of another was, again, new to Fleur. But her heritage knew it to be a natural exchange between people. Between friends. Between…whatever they were…
Hermione settled her hand just at the small of her back and gently lifted Fleur's lithe body ever so slightly to remove the nightshirt from underneath her. But just as she was about to possibly bide more of her time to busy herself with needless folding, Fleur reached up and began to tug gently at Hermione's loose tie.
Fleur didn't hesitate to untie the thing while Hermione continued to hover over her, completely frozen. Both of them were completely foreign to another undressing them, but Fleur didn't see anything alien about it.
A certain level of intimacy was revealed in the way that Fleur took her time with the fabric, glossing her feather-tipped fingers across Hermione's stiff shoulders just under her blouse while she removed the tie. Fleur's eyes narrowed and darkened momentarily while she allowed her lissom fingers to smooth across her shoulders for Hermione to relax, but relax she did not. Fleur's fingers actually picked up subtle currents running through the skin… Her hair was soft and almost glossy as Fleur brushed her fingers over it before setting her tie to the side and moving her hands to the buttons on Hermione's shirt.
Hermione's shirt was unbuttoned a fair distance in between her collar bone and the swell of her chest. It was safe, but not that safe. Still, Fleur effortlessly undid the barriers; gently, carefully…
She noticed Hermione trying desperately to not let her eyes rake Fleur's form, still nude in the pale candlelit room. The loo also appeared to have the same lighting from what Fleur could see. But seeing what she was made a tiny smirk flash across her face while she continued to let her fingers go over and under what was barely rising and falling twice a minute at most by the rate at which Hermione was breathing. Again, Fleur was unsure as to why Hermione was so nervous. This was normal. To her.
And once the buttons were finally finished, Fleur took the liberty of removing the shirt from Hermione's body. Slow, assured movements did the job, as did Fleur's hands glossing down Hermione's smooth arms. Fleur lazily tossed the shirt aside before pulling Hermione a bit closer, aware of the ever increasing warmth not only under her hands, but in the room as a whole as she glided her nails across Hermione's back to start the unclasping of her bra.
White. It was, again, safe. Hermione's features were nicely developed at her age now, but her confidence left much to be desired. Fleur felt a swell of…something settle inside of her while she undid the annoying bra, subtly letting her eyes stray on Hermione's chest, which was also divine in its own ways, before edging her palms down the warm curves before her, en route to a little black skirt.
The pressure Fleur put on Hermione's hips while she inched her hands down was just enough so that she'd finish two jobs with one solitary effort. Fleur noted to herself that Hermione was quite statuesque at the moment. Upon finding yet another curve, smooth thighs, and the beginning of the exposure to something so much more was probably the reason, Fleur surmised. Still, Fleur took in how surprisingly svelte Hermione's body was. Not nearly as svelte as her own, but it was still that – svelte.
But the second Fleur thought Hermione was loosening up and actually let her eyes wander to her thighs, the girl suddenly whipped her head in the opposite direction and focused on one of her posters that required her immediate attention. Fleur sighed and let Hermione's skirt and underwear fall to the floor; they were both completely exposed now.
The frightened body language Hermione was giving only made Fleur regard her indifferently. She decided to keep her comments to herself until they were in the bath while she wrapped her arms around Hermione's neck, tugging her down gently and arching her body towards her as a sign that she needed to be carried. The naturally seductive undertones of her actions went well above Fleur's head, but certainly not Hermione's – the blush was evidence enough of this.
Hermione took a moment to smartly step out of her skirt while Fleur respected her extremely limited privacy and kept her eyes to the bare minimum of Hermione's. There was a very small amount of resolve trying to build in her eyes, and Fleur caught it, hoping to keep it there while Hermione placed an arm under the Veela's thighs, and kept the other adjusted for cradling Fleur's head.
Fleur's eyes fluttered closed at the mounds just at her side, and at Hermione's gentlemanly care while she picked her up with little difficulty. It was either that or Hermione's insides were screaming from the weight – she was being wise to keep it to an inward level if this was the case.
The gentle disposition Hermione kept about herself whilst she guided Fleur to the bath was calming. Even the sultry loo stilled her senses, once again nearly succumbing to the sleepiness in her senses. It was sated somewhat when Hermione carefully dipped her in the lukewarm water and lay the back of her head against a soft mound of towels.
Fleur regarded Hermione with a lazy gaze in thanks before biting back a grin; Hermione was still overtly shy and quickly dipped in the bath, leaning against the opposite side not too far away. She was close enough for Fleur to entwine their legs together, Hermione steadily reddening once again. Fleur took a deep, quiet breath while she waited for Hermione to catch her eye, basking in the warmth seeping through her pores, joining with that of her heritage exuding from her. The bubbles just on the surface of the water smelled of chocolate. Hermione chose well. But she was almost sinking in the bubbles in a vain attempt to cover her well-formed body. Fleur finally seized the moment to comment on this.
"You have a wonderful body, you know. I don't see why you're choosing to hide it."
"Ehm…w-well… I just… You see, I've never…exposed myself like this to someone. Ever… Especially not another…woman. B-but…thank you."
"Mhm. You're not comfortable with your body?"
"N-no…"
"Mmm… I don't see why not. I've never done this before, either. You are quite strange."
"Fleur, I'm not you."
"Of course not. You are you and I am me. If we were the same person I don't think we'd be in this situation. Well…not situation. Perhaps, arrangement would be better."
"You're really not angry with me?"
"No. What reason do I have to brood on anything? You're stuck with me, or at least until this ache goes away."
"I don't know… You always seem rather…angry. Or at least before you did…"
"I'm usually not aware of the expression on my face. The default is a passive scowl, I suppose. That's the only reason why."
"And now you are?"
"I seem to be paying more attention to yours."
Fleur narrowed her eyes at Hermione's uncomfortable shift. She became reacquainted with the water-smooth feeling of their legs entwined underwater, and her eyes had the pleasure of seeing a bit more of Hermione's chest. An exposure to possibly prove that she was no longer uncomfortable, but it only further exposed her vulnerability. She was so wary of everything; she was that much more wary of her face just between her chestnut tresses. Sweat was beginning to form on her forehead; the humidity dampening her hair considerably. Fleur's ever warming eyes continued to observe, to study…
"I-is that a good thing…?"
"I would think so, yes."
"Why do you…?"
"What else is there to do? Besides, there's something interesting about it. It keeps me entertained."
"Uhm…sure…"
"You really ought to loosen up. I thought you trusted me?"
"I… I do, Fleur… This is just…it's all so new for me…"
"You're scared."
"No! No, I'm not… well, no… not quite. Not exactly… I'm just not used to…"
"Not used to me."
"Well…yes. I mean, you're right – I've never said a word to you in seven years until this week and now look at where we are… Again, I'm sorry… I shouldn't have judged you. It was terrible of me, I know…"
"Stop the guilt trip, won't you? It's not that I don't care to hear it; I don't care for you degrading yourself like that. It's very unbecoming."
"S-sorry—I mean.. well… Fleur, I'm not… I'm not as strong as you are. I don't think I ever will be."
"Strong… I've just been to a lot of places, seen a lot of things. It doesn't make me any stronger than you are. We both have our assets and faults, you know. Don't go ranting and raving about either of mine. And don't give me that look – I actually have faults. I'm just a lot better at hiding things than you probably are."
"It's not good to bottle things up…"
"Life is not good for me, as you heard the other day."
"Fleur…please, don't say that… You're… you're wonderful… I see it now… Besides, no matter what Draco says, I will always be here for you. I know what it's like to feel alone sometimes…or all of the time, really…"
Fleur clenched her jaw shut and watched Hermione sternly. Hermione bit her lip, a habit Fleur began to analyse now, and tried her best to keep eye contact. Strings were at work once again, pulling both of their stomachs and hearts this way and that, jostling their thoughts about… Fleur kept a hold on hers, but try as she might, she pondered her folly of showing Hermione anger at her attempts at getting her to open up.
There was no happy medium for her expressions, Fleur concluded. There was always something in both of their eyes, giving the other away in some way. However far on the spectrum Fleur chose to wander, Hermione seemed like she would follow her, regardless of her discomfiture with the matter. She'd already proven herself various times in a mere four days so far.
Fleur took a deep breath, arching her body toward Hermione as she did. She continued to watch the brown before her, spattering answers to her like haphazard chocolate and syrup, but Fleur's eyes merely froze the sweets to the spot while she tried to look past all of that. She kept her demeanour strong while she searched and searched for something beyond Hermione's eyes. A lie, a fooling, a joke, a game, a victory in mind… But nothing was there. Only genuine concern and sheer honesty. Fleur took note of this and visibly relaxed, as did Hermione.
"Fleur… I mean it… I'm not trying to trick you or to hurt you. I'd really like it if we could be closer friends over time."
"Why?"
"You mean a lot to me, believe it or not… I just hope that I'll be able to have the same effect on you…"
"Why do I matter so much to you?"
"You are… You're special to me. I know we haven't been friends for very long at all, but I see something now that I've started taking the time to look…"
"And what do you see…?"
Fleur swallowed when Hermione had the boldness to move from her end of the bath and crawl over to her. The sound of the shifting of water and the feel of Hermione getting closer to her rang through her system, making her realise that she'd broken her deportment. Hermione stayed on all fours while she got within reasonable, but a still close distance to Fleur's face, her breasts brushing against hers with a strange, tantalising touch…
The stronger scent of chocolate that had soaked Hermione's body sated her nose; she turned it upward in some feeble attempt at control but Hermione didn't dare flinch. She didn't back away. Nothing… Hermione only sniffed a little before giving Fleur's azures a white hot gaze that stabbed piercing reverberations though the Veela's skin before she spoke softly…
"I smell fear. And yet I see fearlessness. It doesn't make sense to me."
Fleur narrowed her eyes; Gryffindors and their nerve… Fleur may have underestimated the lion just before her, watching her with such a gentle scrutiny. The option of pushing Hermione away flashed through her mind, but she merely let it continue on its way – Hermione would only revel in her righteousness if she did that. But this wasn't a game…
It certainly felt that way…
"Fleur…it's not the end of the world if you open yourself up with me. I'm not going to hurt you; I'm not going to laugh at you… I want to get to know you."
"If you say so."
"R-really?"
"Yes."
"All right… But you seem tired… Perhaps we should prep for bed."
"Hmph. You get this close and you shy out on me?"
"No… I just don't want to pressure you into anything. I sort of get the feeling that you only agreed to tell me more about yourself because you don't want me to think that you're afraid. You've nothing to be afraid of… I just wish you'd understand that…"
Fleur let a look of bewilderment slip from her face just as Hermione moved back a bit to drain the bath. She then moved back to Fleur, once again resuming the same cradling of her head and tender hold on her before she stood with a subtle air of strength about herself. Fleur carefully wrapped her arms around Hermione's neck again, which was considerably less tense than before while Hermione stepped out of the tub and over to the expansive counter where she had towels laid out.
Just as Fleur took a deep breath while she pondered Hermione's words, she was laid down completely over one of the soft towels. Fleur watched Hermione's hands this time as the younger girl dried her off with a gentle precision, not at all embarrassed anymore at either of them being so exposed. The careful brushing of the dry softness just under Hermione's delicate hands was…enjoyable.
Even Hermione's daring action of drying her completely in between her legs was enjoyable. Different…but there was still some entertainment to be found with it. Hermione was blushing once more, but for perfectly good reason. Her fingers were strangely dexterous on her nether regions, despite the soft barrier. It was highly sensual, highly familiar even though she'd never let anyone touch her there, and highly relaxing.
Fleur was almost disappointed when Hermione glossed her hands from in between her legs to dry the rest of her body. The almost was lost upon her, however, when she replayed Hermione's words and actions in her mind. Her tone, her emphasis, her care; it was all carelessly meticulous, just as Hermione was with everything. She was like this with her schoolwork, with her actions, and now with her words and her careful thoughts about their aftereffects. She really did take into consideration what Fleur had said to her about underestimation, it seemed.
Fleur finally moved her eyes to Hermione's when she felt the girl cup her face with her damp, warm hand. Hermione worked carefully to dry Fleur's hair, very wary of sudden movements so as to keep Fleur's head pain-free. Fleur swallowed again, feeling something somewhere simmer inside of her again while she took in how genuine Hermione may have been. She was unsure, and the uncertainty was not appealing to her.
And while she watched Hermione dry herself off quickly, most of the water already dried by now, she could only wonder if it really would be the end of the world if she confided in Hermione what she only told to Draco. And possibly even more…far more than that… She was harmless. Fleur was certain of this. But harmless in nature could mean a possible source of pain in many other ways.
She wasn't sure. Her indecisiveness was something she grew tired of day in and day out. She didn't even realise that she'd wrapped her arms around Hermione's neck and was being guided back to bed in her dark room. Hermione simply placed Fleur underneath the duvet and gave her a small smile before redressing. Fleur actually blinked at her for a moment while she watched Hermione swiftly put her clothes back on and put all of her things back in her bag. Hermione felt Fleur's stare on her and turned to regard her once her tasks were completed.
"Yes?"
"Nothing."
Hermione raised an eyebrow at Fleur and merely shrugged before retrieving Harry's Invisibility Cloak and slinging her bag over her shoulder. She walked carefully to the door, fully aware of Fleur's darkened eyes on the back of her head. Fleur continued to watch her while she stood there, hand just over the handle, looking as if she were deep in thought about something.
Silence. Again. It tainted the air around them and made them both quite unaware of breathing and blinking; only thinking. Only watching with a deep concentration what it was their eyes were focused on. There was nothing to say between them – Fleur was tired, this was her room, and Hermione was in no place to spend the night a second time.
Hermione slowly turned around and Fleur felt her gaze harden around the edges of her silhouette some feet away from her. More time and silence passed before Fleur licked her lips and spoke audibly, softly…
"I nearly forgot."
"Wh-what's that…?"
"Happy birthday, Hermione. What are you now, eighteen? I suggest you act like it."
By the look on Hermione's face, she was clearly expecting a different response. Fleur merely relaxed her face, satisfied by her reaction, and winked at her before closing her eyes to go to sleep. Hermione narrowed her eyes in a small bout of confusion and wonderment; Fleur was quite aware that Hermione never told her when her birthday was.
Perhaps it was her last comment that ruffled Hermione's feathers so…
"Thank you, Fleur… Thank you. Good night."
No response. Hermione slowly turned on her heel and placed the Cloak around herself before exiting quietly. Fleur knew Hermione would continue to ponder her words…a spot of revenge for Hermione having affected her so with her own words.
But both of them were still losing; falling in some way, no matter what they tried to tell themselves.