there's this woman
a woman, I said, a woman
she's gonna be great, let me tell you
and her woman'll help her get there; high up there
xii. acrophobia
Ron finally managed to convince Fleur to bring her new broomstick outside for a three-on-three game of Quidditch some afternoons later. They had two days before they were due back at Hogwarts, and Fleur had been giving silent excuses all the while and staying cooped up in her room with Hermione. There was a light snowfall while the entire household except for Fleur and Hermione was outside, Ron, Harry, Ginny and the twins were in their Gryffindor robes and gear. Ron took the honour of divvying everyone into teams while they waited for Fleur. Well, that was what he should have been doing, anyway.
Once Fleur finally did come outside with Hermione in tow, the chatter seemed to fade out slightly, only accentuated by the occasional gusts of wind to further add to the chilling weather. There was a certain aura about Fleur, about her swagger; it was simply Slytherin, surreptitiously signified by her robes being the only green in the near sea of red robes and hair around her. Hermione was holding her broom, still wondering why Fleur had been so evasive all this time whenever Ron would ask her nicely to join everyone for a game, even urging her to wear her gear in case of emergencies.
There was still a strange air about Fleur as she crossed the short distance between the house and where the Weasley clan were. Her face was set, her eyes were near stone; but the second Hermione stood just in front of her and was clearly in her line of view, she loosened up considerably. The look she'd been giving Harry in particular was, for some reason, extremely scathing and almost sceptical.
"All right, Fleur?" Harry asked, genuinely concerned.
"I'm fine," Fleur replied nonchalantly.
"If you say so."
"Right, so…" Ron began awkwardly, "I know you've never played Chaser before but it's pretty straightforward. Harry, bung the Quaffle over here, mate." Harry did so and Ron caught it, gesturing with the ball as he spoke. "I'm Keeper for the posts on the left 'n George'll take the right ones. You 'n Fred are on my team, Harry 'n Ginny are on George's. That okay with you?"
"That's fine," Fleur shrugged.
"All right then. Well, let's get started. Dad's keeping score. Let's head on over in between the posts."
Ron and the others walked the short distance away and Fleur took a deep breath before striding forward a bit to stand directly in front of Hermione. Hermione watched apprehensively while Fleur placed a gloved hand over her black broom handle, smiling ruefully at her as she did. They had been discussing Fleur's unwillingness to play Quidditch until today until Ron came in at the most opportune moment. Hermione looked up at Fleur uncertainly for some kind of explanation, still tugging the broom towards herself so as to let her know that she wanted an answer.
Fleur seemed to understand and chuckled deeply, finally bending down slightly to brush her lips against Hermione's ear. The cold had dissipated between them immediately; Fleur's breathing was rather jagged, subtly, but still warming nonetheless. Her words seemingly opened a shaft within Hermione, fully exposing her insides to the freeze that was the external world.
"I'm afraid of heights," Fleur murmured.
Hermione drew in a sharp breath and gripped Fleur's broom when she pulled back and tried to relieve it from her. Fleur merely gave her a winning smile and a wink, dissolving Hermione's resolve to grip onto the broom for dear life and, well, Fleur's life. It seemed as if it took hours for Fleur to be out of reaching distance, Hermione barely registering that Fleur had kissed her gently before she strode off towards everyone else. The memory of her emerald robes billowing at her feet and the confidence exuding from her was extraordinary; Hermione didn't believe for a second that Fleur wasn't even the least bit terrified.
It didn't take long for her to end up in between Charlie and Mrs. Weasley, Bill and Mr. Weasley on either side of them, respectively, the five of them sitting on the sidelines to watch the others begin the game. There seemed to be a never-ending wait for them to mount their brooms and begin the game; Hermione's eyes were distant and went beyond the horizon but her hollow vessels never once left Fleur's body. It was only natural that she still may have been traumatised from that horrible fall in their Third Year.
Even if it may have been years since she last flew, Fleur still hadn't lost her form or grace in the air at all. Not an ounce of natural skill had left her; if Hermione didn't know any better, she'd have thought that Fleur improved after all this time. Fleur's form was still so fierce, elegant, and blaring of pure talent; she was scoring often even though she'd never played Chaser. They never did discuss Quidditch at all while they lay together for copious hours in Charlie's room for the past few days. Their lips did plenty of discussing; they were both still feeling the shock of finally being on such an intimate level that they hadn't really discussed much.
Mrs. Weasley was murmuring excitedly to Hermione about something, 'Her Fleur', but she failed to hear the rest; all she seemed to be able to hear was the sound of Fleur's robes and hair and determination jetting through the freezing skies, the sound of the Quaffle leaving her gloved hands and the breath she'd let out from her nose as she did, the sensual sweat dripping from her brow and the sound of it freezing, and her occasional panting after she stopped momentarily whenever she did take a shot. The black lines in the skies that her broom seemed to make in her wake spelled out to Hermione how simply astounding Fleur was to her; her resolve, her tenacity, her courage… Fleur only occasionally glanced at her, after she'd scored, and gave her a charming smile and a wink before she was off again. Hermione had a small, default-like smile upon her face while she and the others watched, still immune to the excited chattering and cheering going on around her.
Harry, Ginny and George were rather disarmed by Fleur's everlasting abilities but they were still good sports about it nonetheless. Ron and Fred were ecstatic, cheering her on appropriately and she took it in stride, nodding curtly to their thumbs shooting to the air in her direction and their triumphant fists that were raised. Hermione was still immobilised with a dab of fear, wondering if Fleur was just doing very well at covering her phobia or if she really wasn't affected by it. As soon as she thought this, it was as if no one seemed to notice the way Fleur would almost nervously switch her grip on the broom every five seconds. Her hawk-like movements never left her, most especially while she cradled the Quaffle in one arm while she jetted through to the goal posts, but something was still off.
Hermione was learning exactly how to watch Fleur. She'd learned to read her when they were alone and when they were around everyone else and whenever she watched her sleep. And it was all of this combined that sent her to her feet in a way that almost made her jump out of her leg sockets just before it happened, that feeling of powerlessness overtaking her just as it did four years prior –
Fleur was about to move in to score for the umpteenth time and Harry and Ginny were blindsided, flying side-by-side and facing away from her. They were looking for Fleur and were right in her path; all three of them were extremely high up. She was expecting them to hear her coming, but they'd started talking by the sound of it. Fleur's broom was too fast and a little too unfamiliar to her still for her to brake properly; she ended up jerking her body down to fly underneath them but her broom insisted on going up, easily toppling her off and sending her down, down, down to the ground just like four years ago.
No one could react in time and Hermione had frozen up, despite herself; her body was shaken and stopped with fear and guilt for the seconds it took Fleur to come crashing down, again… The first time Hermione felt as if it were her fault and now, the second time, it really was her fault. She should have done something but her practical reactions were far too sluggish and her confidence in them left too much to be desired. She couldn't see the look on Fleur's face, but the sound of her robes fluttering in her wake while she spun out of control seemed tenfold over the collective panicking of everyone else…
And then, just like that, as soon as Fleur was about to hit the ground and possibly ruin her perfect face, her entire body…stopped…exactly parallel to the snowy field. Her broom had stopped mid-zoom atop Harry's mortified face that mirrored everyone else's except for Fleur's. She merely snorted at the snow just centimetres from her nose. Her robes were just as close to contact with the white underneath her and she remedied her situation by extending her arms out at her sides and bending her elbows, such that her hands kept her steady while she 'fell' the last few centimetres.
Emerald billowed about her one last time while she kept her face set, looking completely frustrated with herself. She slowly snaked her body back up into a standing position, brushing herself off after she did so. Without her wand, she shot her hand and arm diagonally above her head and Summoned her broom immediately; it didn't risk disobeying her and quickly flew to her outstretched hand. Her other hand ran through her sheet of blonde and ruffled it a bit before she shook the locks from about her neck and slung her broom over her shoulder before sauntering back inside, ignoring the gaping looks of surprise she was receiving and almost pointedly neglecting to make eye contact with Hermione.
Hermione, who looked the most fearful of them all, in fact. Everyone else had flown over and was asking her a multitude of questions but they all went ignored; she was too disoriented and perplexed that she couldn't even make sense of what she'd just witnessed.
Perhaps it was time they finally sat down and talked that night…
That night finally arrived and Hermione was waiting for Fleur to return to Charlie's room; Fleur seemed rather frustrated still. Hermione suggested that they bathe separately that night after supper and Fleur didn't protest, though she seemed as if she wanted to.
Everyone else's shock at what happened that afternoon seemed to have died by the time they all sat down to eat that night. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had asked her various times if she was all right, and she played it off quite well. Ron, Harry and Ginny apologised profusely but Fleur claimed there was no need; she was soon back to her charming self and the three of them were extremely relieved. Bill and Fleur had struck up conversation as usual and were having a light-hearted discussion about Charms, though she seemed rather dismissive about careers after Hogwarts. Ginny next to Hermione seemed to notice the thousand mile stare that overtook her at times.
Even now while she sat upon the bed in her same black dressing gown, she just barely took note that Fleur was peering into her eyes and watching her attentively. Hermione fought back a flinch while she looked deeply into Fleur's moonlit eyes and noticed how very…apologetic they looked. Fleur was situated on all fours in front of her, Hermione moving back to lay down with a curious, apologetic part-Veela following her every move and never breaching the closeness between the two.
It wasn't long before Fleur had moved them both so that they were underneath the duvet and she was lying atop Hermione with her face on the pillow right with her chestnut tresses. Hermione had her arms wrapped about Fleur's body; her fingertips felt a surge of warmth flow through them with every bit of skin she covered just underneath her nightshirt. Hermione turned her head so that she could watch the moonlight play across the side of Fleur's face she could not see, enshrouding the side she could in a hazy shadow and lighting up her outline with a pale glow that rivalled the silver of her hair. Fleur was busy playing with a bit of Hermione's hair just underneath her chin, savouring the silence or damning it; Hermione didn't know.
"Maybe I should have listened to you," Fleur admitted softly.
"I had no idea you were frightened of heights for one…" Hermione angled her brows in a concerned fashion when Fleur stopped her fidgeting and turned to face her properly, looking neutral now. "It makes sense though…"
"Ron just wouldn't stop asking."
"He just wanted you to join in with the others with something you're good at. Ron's such a sweet person, you know him.."
"He's rather daft sometimes."
"True… But even I didn't assume that you'd kept telling him no because you didn't want to fly again. After that fall I don't think I'd want to be in the air again either.. but he only meant well."
"I know. I'm not angry at him. Just myself."
"Fleur…"
"I could have manoeuvred myself better in time or at least tried to get over my fears beforehand. Or I should have just told him no again."
"Mistakes happen...don't be so hard on yourself.. But…why didn't you just tell him the truth? Or at least me… I could have helped."
"The same reason why I do a lot of the things I do."
"And what's that…?"
"To show off to you."
Hermione saw a very coy smile curl about Fleur's lips while she observed her with a silently bemused expression upon her face. Flattery was not lost upon Hermione while she continued to watch the twinkle in Fleur's eyes, trying hard to pin the sensations that she was feeling down with words.
"Fleur, you.. You don't need to show off to me."
"Is it so bad that I want to…?"
"Well…no, I suppose not… I just don't want you getting hurt on account of me.. Which brings up something I've yet to understand completely."
"How I was able to stop my fall the way I did."
"Yes…"
"It felt completely natural. Like wandless magic, perchance."
"Oh! Oh, wandless magic. Of course you'd know how to perform it."
"But that's just it – I don't. Or at least I don't remember ever learning it."
"It's quite possible that you learnt it inherently. It tends to go hand-in-hand with non-verbal spells. Over time, at least. And you're quite advanced as it is."
"Mmm…maybe too advanced."
"How so…?"
"It's just an out of place feeling I've had for a year or so now. I wouldn't worry yourself about it."
"Does it have anything to do with your age?"
"My age…?"
"Well, yes… I mean certainly you've felt a little…stunted? Three years behind with things… It may be that your talents are beyond the confines of what you think is possible for yourself."
"Mmmaybe… But like I said – don't worry yourself over it. I'll be fine."
"Yes but…what about your fear? Surely you'd like to get over it…or something… You're quite good at flying, really… and now that you've a broom it'd be a shame to let it go to waste."
"You can help me when we go back. I'll think of something."
"All right." They both smiled warmly at each other before Hermione remembered with a small pang what else she was supposed to have reminded Fleur about ages ago… "Oh, and Fleur…"
"Hm..?"
"I'm going to my parents' tomorrow afternoon… they'd like to meet you."
"Do they know?"
"Yes… if that's…all right with you. Well I know it's after the fact but I'd written them a letter last month about you and I went on and on about how wonderful you are and how I feel about you and how scared I was to tell you and they… They… They're perfectly fine. With us. I promise you they are."
"There's no need to be nervous about it," Fleur chuckled. Hermione's nerves seemed more pronounced than before and Fleur frowned ruefully. "Or not…"
"I'm not.. embarrassed of you or anything of the sort. It's just… well.. My parents are a bit charismatic and they sort of teased me mercilessly during Christmas about how I was fretting over nothing and that by the time I brought you home that we'd be an item…"
"Well they were right, were they not?" Fleur chanced a playful smirk and Hermione gave in with a small smile.
"I suppose they were.. My entire family was behind them on the notion as well."
"They care about you, Hermione."
"They care about you, too… and they haven't even met you…yet…"
"I'd love to meet them. But your parents come first, hm?"
"Yes.. yes, they do… They already love you and they've yet to even meet you in person.."
"You're not worried about them scaring me off now, are you?"
"No, no! I was just thinking about how.. well… you've been on your own for so long… I don't want you to feel suffocated or anything. The Weasleys and Harry…sure, they're practically my second family.. But my Mum is really, really friendly and my Dad is a bit more humble but he's still really talkative and whatnot."
"Exactly what are you trying to say…?"
"I.. Well… Fleur I know you get turned off by people easily and it shows. Not so much to everyone else but I can see it sometimes.. But I know that you're trying with the Weasleys and Harry for me… You've even gotten them to all love you for who you are like I know you could, but I wonder.. I just wonder sometimes if you'd even associate yourself with them if they didn't mean so much to me."
"Probably not."
"I see…"
"But you do realise that it's rather… inherent of me to judge people sometimes. I either judge or I just don't care. But you've made me stop being so cold towards others unless they give me a solid reason to not trust them."
"Oh... You're quite sweet, you know.. You've actually…come a long way.. I'm glad that you've opened up a lot, even if it is just mostly with me. My parents will probably be calling you their own by the end of the day if they're not already."
"Mmm…probably. Probably.."
"Do you miss them..? Your family, I mean…"
Fleur situated herself so that she was lying next to Hermione now; her head lay in the crook of Hermione's neck and she curled her body about to achieve the perfect dimensions of how well their bodies fit together. Hermione held her close and let out a warm, but still somehow sad sigh from Fleur's silence. She had one arm supporting Fleur's neck and the other wrapped about her waist, trying to hold her closer than she could muster; Hermione had a strange want for the longest to speak to Fleur about her family, but the opportunity had never presented itself. But now that it was here in front of her, blaring so loudly in her ears like the silence enveloping them both, she wished she hadn't seized it so soon, if at all.
"Not anymore, no."
"R-really…?"
"Yes, really. About a year ago I stopped grieving. I want to miss them but I strangely don't. I've become desensitised over time, I suppose."
"You're not…worried about that?"
"I don't care, Hermione. I don't.. care about things, just like you said. I don't care that I don't miss them and I'm not going to feel awkward around your parents tomorrow."
"All right…"
Hermione bit her lip and watched the shadows slowly edge their way about the ceiling as time passed; she and Fleur continued to lay together, Fleur having fallen asleep soon after their silent goodnight, and yet Hermione felt a strange knot in her throat. There were a multitude of gray matters mulling through her aching mind, bringing about shallow pools of doubt and hurt to her eyes. She wished that she could be above them but nothing ever worked; the rivers would forever be a part of her at this point, regardless if Fleur was sleeping soundly or not.
There were no answers to what she felt, and there were no explanations as to what it was she was feeling in the first place. Fleur would occasionally intake sharp breaths and grip on to her, but Hermione knew it was because of her nightmares; those, too, were something Hermione wanted to discuss, to figure out, to get rid of. But, power – she had it not. Not even love seemed to be enough to get rid of anything when they were supposed to be at ease, asleep; taking a step forward to Hermione with everything already seemed to make her dig her own ditch in which to fall through whenever Fleur would hurt her with her words.
Already, things had gotten extremely complicated. And already, Hermione was bottling things up.
So weak...
And of course, Fleur was the perfect daughter-in-law to the Grangers already; not even seconds after she and Hermione entered the house did Mrs. Granger nearly crush the Frenchwoman with a hug and Mr. Granger grip her hand in a hearty handshake. She was smiling all the while and keeping her poise and elegance about herself while they sat in the parlour, Mr. and Mrs. Granger of course asking her a multitude of questions about herself. Hermione felt the stings of her parents' gaze on her over her silence but she pretended to be deeply interested in the faint purple hue emitting from the acrylic on Fleur's nails; their hands were interlaced while they sat on one couch and Mr. and Mrs. Granger were right across from them on another.
Hermione felt self-conscious about her home now that Fleur was there with her; she noticed the way her eyes would narrow momentarily upon seeing pictures of her family about the room. The knick-knacks, the assorted medical books on shelves, the lingering vestiges of Christmas décor – they all seemed embarrassing now. She even felt inferior with her choice of clothing, a rare event; Fleur's black trousers and white dress shirt with a popped collar and thigh-high boots were sharp, something she knew her parents also took note of almost immediately. Fleur always seemed to wear black somewhere, somehow. Her trench coat by the door was black and white, leather – Mrs. Granger nearly squealed upon seeing Fleur's stately sense of fashion before they'd exchanged pleasantries.
Hermione also noticed the way Fleur's eyes would linger on the television to their right, even; it was as if she were trying to figure out what it was and what it did. She surmised that Fleur wasn't very good with Muggle things, Fleur herself having admitted some weeks ago that she never took Muggle Studies. Perhaps she was regretting it now? Or was she really being critical of everything like Hermione feared she would do with the Burrow and the Weasleys?
There was something about sitting with Fleur now after one too many fearful realisations that made her want to stand up and yell that she was confused already and they'd only been together for a week, if not a little more than that. When she'd made the decision to do this, her folly had overtaken her and made her visualise she and Fleur forever being happy and carefree. She wasn't thinking about Fleur's demons that she'd hidden so easily from her once they'd become friends.
But now that Fleur was even on first name terms with her parents, Hermione thought herself silly; the woman was simply impeccable and still somehow so, so unpredictable. That was all.
Or not..
"So Fleur, we were wondering," Mrs. Granger began thoughtfully, "Hermione's told us that you're twenty. Not that we mind! Kenneth and I are just a little curious about how you're holding up, being on your own and everything."
"Yes, I am twenty," Fleur said slowly, not noticing the heat flushing to Hermione's cheeks at the same tempo, "And I've essentially been on my own since I was ten or so. I'm essentially used to it by now."
"Oh," said Mr. Granger sadly, "Well.. you know that you're welcome to come and stay with us after school lets out. I'm sure Hermione would be happy if you did. Right, sweetie?"
"Of course," Hermione managed to get out, noticing the way her mother had looked at her as she did.
"If you insist," Fleur said coolly, making sure to smile benevolently. "Thank you."
"It's no trouble at all! I'm sure you'll feel right at home." Mr. Granger beamed at Fleur while Mrs. Granger did the same as she stood up.
"Hermione, come help me with tea, won't you?" Mrs. Granger asked with a toothy smile.
"S-sure, Mum," Hermione mumbled as she stood and let go of Fleur's hand to shuffle after her mother.
Fleur and Mr. Granger resumed a light-hearted conversation while Hermione and Mrs. Granger went further in the kitchen, Hermione already knowing that her mother did not call her in there to prepare tea.
The two of them sat at the table together, far away from the door to the parlour; Hermione had begun pulling at her fingers while she tried to keep looking her mother in the eye. Mrs. Granger was smiling wistfully at her daughter and Hermione was thankful that her mother had her wits about herself to at least see that she was feeling awkward.
"So what happened?" Mrs. Granger asked carefully.
"Why do you think something happened?"
"You just wrote us a week ago about how happy you two were. And I can certainly see why - Fleur's an amazing woman. She's charming, beautiful, intelligent, and she clearly loves you. Unless there's something you were leaving out."
"Does she seem a little…critical?"
"Critical?" Mrs. Granger considered this for a moment and shook her head. "Not at all, honey. She's strong-willed, though. Your father and I like that very much. But something must've happened or not happened. Now what is it?"
"I think I'm.. a little frightened about the prospect of talking to her about certain things. Last night she and I were talking about her family… she said she doesn't miss them at all. She doesn't care… It…stung me a lot, to hear her say that.. Her tone was rather harsh, not really, and she…well… I don't know. I'm making a big fuss over nothing, aren't I?"
"A little," Mrs. Granger chuckled, "you knew beforehand that she's aloof. There's nothing wrong with her, or you. I assume that the both of you still have some adjusting to do. It's not an apocalypse that she can't read your mind."
"But Mum, I want to tell her.. I just don't want her to possibly get angry again."
"That's odd, Hermione. You told us that she's the patient sort, especially with you."
"I… well… oh I don't know.. You're right but I have no idea what I'm doing. I can't even begin to tell you what's really on my mind. It hasn't even been two weeks but I get this feeling sometimes that she's tired of me and I'm suffocating her and this is too hard for her and I'm even getting tired of myself—"
"Sweetie…calm down. Tell me a time when you think Fleur was getting tired of you."
"That's the thing – there is no one time. It's just a feeling… She's rather dismissive and critical when it comes to people sometimes and she has trust issues. I mean, yes, she does trust me but I think maybe she was expecting something.. more from me…"
"More as in what…?"
"Someone with more courage given that they're in Gryffindor for some far off reason…"
"Oh! I thought you were going to blurt out sex or something like that."
"No! No, no, no!" Hermione shook her head and blushed while Mrs. Granger let out a hearty laugh.
"Goodness, sweetie – calm down! You did scare me for a second, though. But what else did you say Veela are? Sexual…beings?"
"Yes.. Yes, they are."
"Hmm… Hermione, I want you to be completely honest with me. I'm going to ask you a few things that don't have to do with Fleur and some things that do. Okay?"
"All right…"
"Now I know that we've had these mother-daughter talks and such before and that you trust your father. But we've never talked about your, ah, sexuality."
"I realise I'm not straight, Mum," Hermione pointed out needlessly with a straight face.
"No, no." Mrs. Granger smiled and waved a hand in front of her face. "Fleur's a novice with relationships as you said, and probably even friendships for that matter. She does certainly have a…very powerful personality, and your father and I really do love her for that. Not to say that you don't – believe me, you can have one when you want to. But both you and Fleur have a lot of discovering to do. Granted a quarter of her already knows a thing or two about…things. Just don't be surprised or discouraged if you stumble a few times."
"Oh. I see what you're saying… I've thought about doing something about myself as well, though."
"Like what?"
"I feel like Fleur's leagues beyond me in terms of maturity a lot of the time. I've probably cried in front of her hundreds of times by now and I'm always worrying about something."
"Hermione, I'm going to be honest here – Fleur's been through a lot. I don't think she had any room or time to care about things the way you do, not that there's anything wrong with the way you care about what you do. You told us what happened and she's okay with us knowing. She's trying with us, and you. Personally I'm glad you found her; she's downright charming. You have all the time you need to get used to each other. I just hate to see you all bothered over the little things."
"I know… I know.. It's hard not to worry sometimes. I try so hard to figure out what to say and what not to say or if I should even say anything or not."
"You need to talk to her about this. I wish I could fix everything for you but I can't, honey. You'll have nine hours to yourselves on the train ride back tomorrow. Take advantage of it. If you're afraid to just have a talk with her then…"
"…then she's too good for me and I need to settle for less."
"Hermione, no! I was going to say that things will keep building up and someone's going to end up getting upset. Is there something going on that I'm not understanding, though?"
"What do you mean…?"
"You've never put yourself down this much before, if at all. You really need to talk to her, sweetie. She's not going to get angry from what you've told your father and I about her. Even with us so far she's been a complete sweetheart. Talk to her."
"I will. I will, I promise. Things with her just seem so.. intense sometimes. I don't know what it is."
"Fleur's an intense woman, I'd assume."
"She is.. I wonder if I should be the same."
"Don't force yourself to do anything, Hermione. But if it feels right then go for it. Whatever it is."
"That's something I wish I knew, too. But I'll figure something out."
"Good! Now maybe we ought to make that tea. They're probably wondering what's taking us so long in here."
"Probably…"
The two of them stood and smiled at each other before Mrs. Granger went to bustle about with a kettle and water to prepare the overdue tea. Hermione chanced wandering over to the door to the parlour to peek in on her father and Fleur, and she was pleasantly surprised by the sight – Fleur was sitting right next to her father with a large photo album in her lap. Mr. Granger was smiling and pointing happily to certain pictures, explaining in detail about what age Hermione was when such and such happened and how he and his wife had a laugh about this and that.
What surprised Hermione the most was how happy Fleur looked. She was smiling innocently, her eyes had a glow about them; her occasional delighted laughter was contagious. Hermione leaned on the door frame for a long while, going unnoticed while she watched two of her loves sit and laugh together. She could almost hear Fleur saying how cute she was in every other photo. It seemed too soon that her mother had summoned her back inside to take two cups, one for herself and the other for Fleur. Mrs. Granger seemed to notice what had caught Hermione up when the two of them sat down at either side of Mr. Granger and Fleur, respectively, and handed them their cups.
Hermione felt rather nauseous, hypothetically, from the ups and down she'd been experiencing ever since she and Fleur started to become friends. She wondered if Fleur was feeling the same way and was simply so much better at covering it up. It seemed that Hermione had a lot to learn about herself with this; something she hadn't even considered up until now.
That evening after Fleur and Hermione left the Granger residence, Hermione was expecting Fleur to walk back to their spot where they'd Apparated, but she instead led her by the hand in the exact opposite direction, further into the city. Hermione barely had time to register that Fleur had done so; she was enraptured in her thoughts on how many embarrassing moments of hers Fleur had seen in copious amounts of photo albums. She could have sworn that her father had snuck a few shots of the two when he thought neither of them was looking. Well, more than a few, really..
Hermione adored her parents but sometimes they were just too much – she really didn't see the gain in keeping old photos of her trying to reach books that were too high up for her or her walking about the house in nothing but a jumper on with Noel in her arms. There were others that made her shudder inwardly but she shook it off while she took in their surroundings.
They were walking in the heart of the city and stares were abundant, not that Fleur seemed to care. Hermione was strangely not bothered by the onlookers and thought herself even more silly for fretting so much over everything else. Even in the cold, Fleur's hand felt extremely warm interlaced with hers. She occasionally felt the brush of Fleur's trench coat against her jeans, her shoulder, arm, knuckles; they were walking extremely close together and Fleur wasn't bothered by this at all. Fleur appeared perfectly fine with simply walking in silence, not at all aware of a pair of curious eyes peering up at her tall figure. Hermione wondered why Fleur chose to wear heels if she was tall enough as it was; it made her feel shorter than she actually was, but not in a bad way. No.. It was, again, comforting.
The collar from her dress shirt was still up and glossing about her jaw line, further accentuating the sculpted feature that was her face. Her face was set and her lips were pursed ever so slightly to match the bit of crease of her brows; but her hair was sleek and bouncing nicely atop her shoulders and back as she walked. Everyone around them seemed to be wondering with their slackened jaws and bulging eyes if the woman was a model, and if so, what in the world was she doing holding the hand of a little girl who in no way could compare to how she carried herself?
Hermione frowned dejectedly and focused on the path in front of them, noting that Fleur may have been leading them to the Leaky Cauldron – the building was just a few yards away. They could have just Apparated there but perhaps she wanted to walk and not have to explain anything.
"What was that about just now?" Fleur asked evenly.
"What was what about?" Hermione didn't dare turn to look up at her.
"You were staring at me."
"Am I not allowed to?" Hermione tried to drip a bit of playfulness in her tone and Fleur chuckled at her efforts.
"You're the only one who is. But you'll have to excuse me – I might be having a little déjà vu right now."
"How do you mean…?"
"Don't tell me you believed all that mess Draco said about you that night."
"What—oh. Oh… Well…"
"Mmm, you think about that for a few minutes while I take you somewhere. I promise you've never been here before but you'll like it."
"Okay…" Hermione said slowly while the two slipped into the Leaky Cauldron.
The place was packed with witches and wizards milling about, some sitting some walking – all of them were drunk or near drunk and striking up conversation with their neighbour about their latest encounter with the resident Lethifold and other such extremities. The building smelled strongly of ale, firewhiskey, and of too many people that were long overdue for their bath times; Fleur was horrible at hiding her facial expressions and turned her nose up at the activity and horrendous odours. Hermione smiled slightly while Fleur made quick work of getting them both out to the back exit and away from any perverts, male or female, more for Hermione's well-being than her own.
When they managed to get outside, Fleur tapped the bricks in the wall with her wand and led them into Diagon Alley, Hermione now taking the time to think over what she'd said moments ago. Perhaps Hermione was more transparent than she'd let herself believe, most especially with Fleur. She chuckled inwardly, imagining Fleur saying something along the lines of You don't have to stare at someone, or even look at someone, to figure out the expression on their face. Fleur was always so cryptic like that. Hermione wished she could be.
Fleur was leading them far into the Alley, into a place where Hermione herself had failed to notice even existed before. They'd gone behind Gringotts and Hermione felt as if they'd walked through a transparent barrier of some sort by the strong current she'd experienced momentarily– there was a path before them that was not cobbled at all, leading to an entirely different Alley, almost. The architecture of the buildings was strikingly Parisian to her, and Hermione wondered if this is what Fleur was talking about when she'd said she had been to a lot of places and seen a lot of things. Interesting…
There were a multitude of people there as well, but none of them were staring – all of them could even rival Fleur's beauty, male or female. Hermione felt strong twinges of allures threatening to prod at her psyche, but she quickly shook them off and stayed close to Fleur. The path they were walking along was made of stone, but it was certainly much statelier than Diagon Alley's ground. By the air she felt from everyone they'd passed, she had a strong inkling that this was a community of Veela. Why they'd built a near model of Paris in London of all places was both reasonable and beyond her, but she expected that Fleur would explain once they'd settled down wherever it was that they were heading.
The building Fleur finally did decide to go towards was rather large – it was rather Gothic in appearance and quite sophisticated. Fleur placed one hand on the handle of the spinning door before them and gestured for Hermione to enter first. Hermione smiled at Fleur's manners and did so, Fleur soon following after her while she took note of how the sound of the doors reminded her of heartbeats. Dying heartbeats or simply slow ones; she didn't know.
The interior was brightly-lit, ivory-coloured, full of people, and made of marble with toffee-coloured columns throughout. Fleur gestured to the ceiling and Hermione nearly toppled backwards from trying to get a good enough look – it was extremely high up as it was and quite impressive. Half was made of glass with gold arcs, fully exposing the night sky dotted with stars while the other half was flat and, well, normal, but still regal nonetheless. Hermione was expecting everyone to be in formal attire from the looks of the building, but everyone seemed to be in either casual suits or dresses; some were dancing to the simple French music playing, others were standing in corners by tables of food and drink or sitting at tables for two, simply chatting.
Fleur eased Hermione from her sightseeing and led her further inside, occasionally nodding to the other gorgeous entities who greeted her brightly in French and English, sometimes stopping for longer amounts of time to introduce Hermione, as her girlfriend of course, to so and so who worked for such and such company both inside and outside the community, mostly inside.
"My goodness Fleur!" one Veela wizard exclaimed among a large group of others, his name something along the lines of Armand, "And here I was thinking that you'd just gone and forgotten about us! We haven't seen you in ages!"
"I apologise," Fleur said with a slight bow of her head, a small, polite smile adorning her face, "I needed some time to figure things out and spend time with Hermione."
"But of course! And charming her family was in order, no doubt!"
"You know me too well."
"That I do Fleur, that I do!"
"Hermione dear, you are the friend of Harry Potter, aren't you?" another Veela witch said chattily, her name long forgotten by Hermione.
"Yes, I am," Hermione said, making sure to keep that annoying stutter and string of hesitation from her voice. All of Fleur's friends beamed at her and began talking excitedly amongst themselves, Armand and the other witch still focusing on her.
"I knew I recognised you from somewhere!" Armand exclaimed. "That…that English Wizarding paper, what's it called?"
"The Daily Prophet, dear," the other witch clarified.
"Oh yes! Yes, the Prophet. I saw an article in there about you. We had a large celebration here that night when Harry Potter and Dumbledore defeated the Dark Lord in the Ministry that night. Fleur sadly couldn't make it. You never did tell us why, chère.."
"I wasn't feeling well," Fleur said with a sigh, "I don't know what it was. Some massive headache and something else. I told you countless times before, Armand."
"Oh you have, haven't you? I keep forgetting!"
"Fleur, dear," another witch said, "surely you didn't come here to have us talk your heads off. Go enjoy yourselves."
"Certainly," Fleur said with a thankful smile while they both bowed their heads to each other, "it was lovely seeing you all again."
"You as well dear," Armand said jovially, "be sure to sneak off here with Hermione from now on!"
"We'll see, Armand," Fleur chuckled.
"It was nice meeting you all," said Hermione.
"You too dear, you too!" another wizard said.
After a bit more of Fleur pointedly dragging Hermione away from the large crowd, they finally managed to get away. Hermione let out a small sigh and smiled while she continued walking close to Fleur, subconsciously learning to bow her head slightly whenever someone would make eye contact with her and smile. Fleur was clearly well-known here; it took quite a bit more time of people-dodging before they began walking up a large, carpeted spiral staircase. Hermione felt slightly out of place with her choice of clothing, most especially her old Converse compared to that of everyone else in the establishment, and not just Fleur. The entire building simply screamed sophistication and class, two things that she'd easily learnt to associate with Fleur and not at all with herself.
Once they finished the trek up the stairs, Hermione was greeted with a wonderfully cooling bit of air that was just the right temperature. They'd gone to the roof, it seemed, and there were a few tables for two along the edges of the building with ample railing to prevent any accidents. A waiter walked over to the couple and greeted them in French while he took their coats. He and Fleur seemed to be on first name terms, and Hermione soon found herself seated at one of the tables away from any of the others also sitting and enjoying their meals. Fleur had already ordered ahead of time, saving Hermione any awkwardness of trying to pick anything, and the waiter was soon off after filling both of their glasses with wine. Hermione was surprised by the alcohol but Fleur immediately took a sip and held her glass to her mouth while she observed, watched, studied…
Hermione was preoccupied with looking around, taking note of how high up they were but still enjoying it regardless. She did notice during her observations that Fleur was making a point to keep her eyes on her, and that Fleur really was much better at covering up her fears and such than she was – Hermione had nearly forgotten that the woman was afraid of heights. But here they were, sitting together on a rooftop overlooking all of what appeared to be Paris without any hesitation on Fleur's part. Hermione's admiration for Fleur seemed to have increased tenfold that evening from the mere realisation that Fleur wasn't really afraid of anything…not in that way, so to speak.
But she once again felt self-conscious about her attire and a plethora of too many other things when the waiter arrived moments later with their meals. Hermione had no idea what it was that Fleur had gotten for herself, but she saw that Fleur had ordered seafood for her. She remembered explaining to Fleur that whenever her parents did drag her to fancy restaurants that she'd always stuck to seafood to be safe, and it was her favourite. Her memory was flawless, just as she was…
"Fleur, this place is beautiful.. The food, the venue…everything… I.. well… Thank you."
"Mmm, you're welcome." Fleur smiled warmly while they both began eating, "I'm sorry that my friends down there were rather talkative. It's true that I haven't been here in a few months.."
"Oh… right.. So I take it you come here often?"
"I usually come every other weekend when I want to get away from Hogwarts. I remember stumbling upon the place when I was looking for a place to go shopping for new clothes when I was eleven or so. Of course they didn't let me in at the time but I came back once I got my Apparition license. In case you were wondering, only Veela know about this place."
"Yes, I surmised as much. I felt some strange chill just as we went behind Gringotts."
"The barrier let you in because you were holding my hand. It's to keep…unwanted intruders out. The Veela that were in France who survived or got out early fled here. It's the only safe haven for Veela that's been established and the creator had a crisis in mind that happened all those years ago when he and his wife decided to build this place. He figured Voldemort would know Veela are too pompous to go anywhere near Diagon Alley, and he was right; everyone that came here was perfectly safe, and they still are."
"I see… So this is like a miniature version of Paris?"
"Essentially, yes.. depending on your definition of 'miniature'. We even call it 'Paris' just to confuse people should we need to talk about it outside."
"Oh. And what else is there to do here?"
"Nothing, really. People either stay at home, work, or go to parties and network. Everyone knows everyone and there's really no need to leave. But some come and go should they choose to live elsewhere. They tease me for not living here but I'd much rather not."
"Why not?"
"It's stifling here. As much as I love taking a step and seeing someone I know, I'd rather keep to myself a little more."
"Of course."
"So I take it you thought about what I asked you?" Fleur really wasn't one to keep up with small talk for long, if at all, and Hermione chuckled at this while she nodded.
"Malfoy said I have self-esteem issues.. among other things. I remember. To be honest, he was right about my problem. I can't lie to you."
"You do realise…" Fleur began slowly while she let her gaze linger on the sight below them, "that not saying anything is just as bad as lying, right?"
"Ahh… well.. Yes, you're right. I never thought of it that way…"
"I lied to you about my phobia. And I'm also lying to you about a lot of things…some of which I've forgotten. I can't seem to remember what it was that I've forgotten most of the time and then I end up clamming up." Fleur returned her calm gaze to Hermione's concerned face, relaxing her own face a tic while she sighed deeply. "This isn't easy, Hermione. I know you've been worrying yourself about something. I don't think I ever really let you know that you can talk to me about anything."
Hermione chanced taking a sip of her wine to bide her time, gladly basking in the surprising sweetness of the liquor and even the tinge of sweetness in Fleur's tone. Not once did their eyes leave each other; Hermione was busy trying to analyse Fleur and the way her collar still brushed against her jaw line while they both watched each other with careful, affectionate, attentive eyes. Hermione was so busy trying to mull over the words that had floated so gently from Fleur's lips, memorising the careful curl around the blue of her eyes, seeing the bit of apology and care behind them; she felt foolish from it all. Absolutely foolish..
"Fleur… I'm sorry. I feel silly, really.. Not even two weeks and something's already gone wrong…"
"It's only wrong if you think it is. You'll worry yourself to death one of these days, Hermione.. Now tell me what's been on your mind, hm?"
"Well… I suppose I'll start with last night. Your…tone.. or something. I'm not…quite sure what it was, but.. I just…" Hermione took a deep breath and remembered the air she held about herself in front of Fleur's friends while she willed herself to continue on, "I wonder about you, Fleur… I wonder if maybe you've been too isolated for so long. You have been rather desensitised about things and it scares me. It really, really scares me."
"I've been working on that.. fixing myself," Fleur sighed, "I realise I am a jerk sometimes. There is no other word for it."
"A jerk?"
"It's exactly what I said about the Weasleys and Harry – I probably wouldn't associate myself with them if they didn't mean so much to you. What is it.. an elitist personality, perhaps? They're not like me so why bother even being around them? In our First Year, Draco and I made a silent agreement to not even go near Millicent Bulstrode because she's not the nicest looking girl you could find. I'm not a saint and I don't pretend to be, either. But I'm trying, Hermione. I'm trying…for you. And for myself. So I don't want you to worry about that."
"I won't. I won't… Thank you for explaining all of that. It does clear up a lot. But from how you've grown up, I don't really blame you for thinking the way you do."
"True. Besides, I am in Slytherin. I'm allowed certain Slytherin qualities." Fleur always seemed to know when to add a bit of good humour in to their conversations, and Hermione appreciated it more than she knew.
"Yes but at least you don't put people down." Hermione smiled, rolling her eyes at a nagging recollection of Malfoy in particular.
"I never saw the gain in that. I know I should have told Draco off for insulting you all the time but I didn't want to hear his mouth about it."
"Well…he was right about one thing – I do have self-esteem issues."
"You felt awkward while we were walking here, didn't you? That's why you were staring. And just downstairs, too."
"You noticed?"
"You tend to frown like this," Fleur made an over-exaggeratedly frustrated frown and Hermione laughed warmly at the rendition, "whenever you have something like that on your mind." Hermione stopped and tried to think about her words but ended up laughing again, but with Fleur this time. "Of course it's silly now," Fleur managed while she calmed down, "but I do notice. You're rather easy to read."
"Coming from you, I'll take that as a compliment." Hermione gave Fleur a lopsided smile before sighing and taking her words to heart. "But, really, I've just been worrying myself over nothing. Certainly I do feel out of place, dressed the way I am… but I always dress like this. I couldn't dress like you even if I tried."
"Do you…want to?"
"Do I want to?" Hermione looked surprised and chewed her food thoughtfully for a moment. "No one's ever really asked me, nor've I really considered it. I know you enjoy it but I don't need to, if that's what you're thinking about. It's not as if I want or need anyone to notice me. Certainly not now, either."
"Have you ever sat down and wondered why I chose to wear what I'm wearing right now?"
"No… Oh… wait! To impress me, right..?"
"Yes." Fleur smiled and nodded; Hermione learnt well. "And your parents, of course."
"My parents are very taken with you, yes." Hermione smiled at this. "But if it's to impress you…then sure, I'll try."
"You're sure?"
"I'm sure, Fleur."
"Mmm…all right then. I'll surprise you tomorrow."
"If you insist." Hermione shook her head and rolled her eyes at Fleur's cryptic tone and equally cryptic smile. She was glad that they'd fixed things, first and foremost, however. It wasn't so hard, really. She vowed to remember this night should the need ever arise to really have a talk with Fleur in the future. But she knew that she had simply made too big of a fuss over nothing last night. It was nothing.
Nothing at all.