Vertigo

by Yoshiyuki Ly

Repost from 2009. 7th Year AU: A flower's appeal is in its contradictions - so delicate in form yet strong in fragrance, so small in size yet big in beauty, so short in life yet long on effect. Hermione learns, loves; she thrives on this. Fleur entertains.

17. the only one she ever feared

xvii. the only one she ever feared

Gentle scratches of talons against smooth, dark wooden floor grazed and carved corporeal delicacies to join the gentle hum of the faint purple hue exuding from her. Torn soles of old shoes flapped slightly as she strutted, slowly, sensually, sophisticatedly, softly and still so deliberately through the dark Atrium of her Ministry. Jeans swished in between elongated legs, toned, feathered arms brushed against a now extremely fitting white shirt, a lengthened sheet of blonde brushed against a poised back; every slight tear of her clothes gave way to the purple of her thrall leaving her. She had but one very large wing protruding from the back of her slightly ripped shirt; the wing was not extended, it was not sinister, it was not small – white, large, feathery, glowing golden just like her skin…

The small smile that was upon her face was dug apart and buried by her spade tongue, inching out just enough to lick her soft, full lips and retracting while she contemplated the situation. The situation, the two that were following her – they were infuriating beyond belief. Two were following her, two of her own, the only two that remained – she made quick work of ending their lives, but she still had some use for the two followers right behind her.

But these unknown uses were far too ambiguous to her. Ambiguous, abstract, atypical, perhaps.. Fleur raised her smooth head and allowed her purple eyes to scan the Atrium, moving her now inch-long talons up to stroke her more sculpted, prominent features pensively. She brushed a fair bit of hair from her eye while she raised an immaculate eyebrow at the statue of the fountain. Purple glossed over the sickly statue of the House Elf to the water. The water, even just the sound of it, sated her senses enough to calm her and help her think clearly.

"My Lord?" asked Lucius. Fleur tilted her head to the side and folded her arms while she slowly curled her body about face in a feline fashion. She moved one hand just enough to resume her pensive stoking of smooth flesh while Lucius rose his head and continued. "You never did answer our question…"

"And what was the question, Lucius..?" Fleur asked, her deep accented voice still fused with that of Voldemort's husky drawl.

"Exactly…why…did you…"

"…did you kill the rest of your followers..?" Bellatrix finished for him. Fleur raised an eyebrow at them and they immediately got down on their knees at her feet.

"Bellatrix.. Lucius… Both of you are my most loyal followers, if I do recall correctly," mused Fleur while she cocked her hip and bent her knee, tapping her foot impatiently to make a point. The shiver she saw go through the both of them confirmed her suspicions. "It is only appropriate to purge those who would only betray me. Besides, I don't think any of the rest of my so-called followers exactly enjoyed my new appearance."

"You look wonderful, my Lord," Lucius mumbled while both he and Bellatrix braved looking up at her. Fleur gave them a toothy, sinister smirk and breathed dangerously before sighing.

"But of course," Fleur said coolly, "though I may have picked up her habits. Even still, Delacour is quite the fine woman, if I do say so myself. And this thrall…think of what we could do with it..!"

"Certainly, my Lord!" Bellatrix grinned and nodded. "What did you have in mind? Lucius and I would of course be most happy to help you! I would be, of course, the happier of us both!"

"Mmm…" Fleur continued to stroke her face thoughtfully, careful to not scratch herself, however appealing it may have been to do so, "I have thought of using the Granger girl to help me along with this plan. Hermione, yes.. Lucius, what is the status of the Repository Chamber in the Sorceress' Memorial?"

"I have tampered with it just enough so that it will have no effect whatsoever on you should we ever fall," Lucius said proudly, glancing predatorily at Bellatrix as he did so. "However, you will be weakened considerably once inside... Should Delacour ever be faced with enough of an emotional upheaval even after being freed from the Chamber, you will be at risk for possible destruction.."

"Worry not about that, Lucius," said Fleur dismissively with a wave of her hand, blowing more purple haze in front of her face, "it cannot be helped. There must be risks taken and I am not coward enough to simply neglect such an opportunity."

"Exactly what do you have in mind for your thrall, my Lord?" Bellatrix asked earnestly.

"Ahh…yes, yes.. Fleur's thrall… You see, she and Hermione have quite the lovely bond, with their relationship being most powerful. Despite it helping to break down Fleur's barriers, I admit that the feelings even overwhelm me sometimes.. It is most tragic. However, I can certainly use this to our advantage and plant…seeds.."

"…'seeds', my Lord?" Bellatrix asked, confused. Fleur chuckled and nodded, casting her eyes to the high, dark ceiling as she did.

"Yes.. yes, oh yes… I will keep that part secret. A surprise, if you will, when it works. Hermione will be an excellent back-up for us once this happens. But, again, neither of us will be without our weaknesses… Unfortunately. And yet Fleur's thrall.. it has the power to seduce, to control, to ensnare the senses, the mind, the will… To possibly even freeze time, just as it preserves her beauty…"

"How poetic," chuckled Lucius. Fleur gave a short, throaty laugh and glossed her eyes back down to her remaining followers.

"It is again something I picked up from our dear Delacour," said Fleur with another toothy smirk. "She is very willing to essentially be Hermione's pawn. It's all so terribly romantic."

"My Lord.." began Bellatrix.

"You may call me Lord Delamort," said Fleur with a raise of her right eyebrow. "Also, the French pronunciation of the 'mort' is of great import – roll that R and don't pronounce the T. It gives me a certain air of mystérieuse.. or some gender identity crisis. Ah well." Fleur feigned a dejected sigh while Lucius and Bellatrix smiled dolefully.

"Lord Delamort.." Bellatrix continued slowly. Fleur beamed approvingly and chuckled, "you must be certain that the…the girl and her friends are on her way. She will want to defeat you and have her woman back."

"For now," Fleur said simply.

"For now?" Lucius drawled. "Exactly what do you have in mind for her?"

"A Kiss of Death."

"You're going to kill her?" Bellatrix screeched. Fleur winced and shook her head.

"Even if so, wouldn't you just love that, Bella..?" Fleur asked slowly. Bellatrix showed no sign of acknowledgment, and Lucius looked at her fearfully. "Hm? I asked you a question. You, my loyal follower. Or am I just talking to myself? I've grown tired of that over these past few months, you see. Speaking to Fleur who thought she was above me, who thought she could get away with not listening to me."

Fleur bent down, pushing her hips out far behind her as she did. Her back curled down while her nails unfurled just enough and close enough to Bellatrix's face looking up at her passively, trying hard to repress her fear. The sharp edges of Fleur's claws curled about the gaunt face just underneath her, starting at one pale cheek, pirouetting under a sharp chin, and curling over to the next cheek. Bellatrix fought back many a wince when Fleur breathed dangerously through her sharp smirk, inconspicuously cutting crimson trails about her face.

Lucius and Bellatrix both watched, fearfully now, as the purple glow surrounding Fleur's body increased in fervour, ardour, power; both of them felt hazy and dazed, but continued to watch their Master with rapt attention. It appeared that Fleur was quite angry and simply covering it up with the sensual so-called air of mystérieuse she'd acquired from her seizure of power. Bellatrix seemed to be fishing for an answer to her Lord's question, but Fleur pursed her lips and shook her head, eliciting another wince from the woman while she pressed her hand over her mouth and dug talons in her skin ever so slightly.

"It's.. rather funny, really," Fleur breathed, just audible enough to echo dangerously throughout the Atrium, "how attached I've grown to dear Hermione. She helped me, us.. Without her, I doubt Delamort would be speaking to you right now, holding onto your life in between her claws. It is true that love has the power to destroy me, but what doesn't kill me only makes me stronger. Hermione…she has done this for me. I owe her a great deal.

"And if it means submitting to Fleur's stronger will of making Hermione my Queen, then so be it. I do not have complete control over this woman's body, Bella. She is far stronger than I could have ever imagined. Hermione makes her stronger. Hermione will lead me to greatness. So, no, I do not want her killed. I wish to simply improve her. And to see you try to belittle her with your jealousy… Bella, Bella, Bella…I thought more of you.."

"M-my… my Lord..!" Lucius said when Bellatrix began to gag; Fleur was increasing her hold on the woman and didn't appear to want to stop any time soon. "Wh-what are you doing?"

"Lucius, extend your arm," Fleur said over Bellatrix's increasing cries.

Lucius obliged quickly and rolled up his sleeve. Fleur let out a gentle snarl while she smirked yet again, moving her free hand over Lucius's Dark Mark. She tilted her head to the side for a moment, seeming to simply be innocently lost in thought. Lucius relaxed slightly, but not even a second later he elicited a loud cry and shut his eyes in pain – Fleur raked her talons over his skin, digging in deep enough, not to make him bleed, but to make the magical ink bleed from his skin. Fleur's smirk raised more and more the louder Lucius bellowed, revelling in the agony filling her ears and ricocheting off of the walls of her Ministry. The talons dug down Lucius's forearm, ripping the Dark Mark with them, slowly revealing eaten, burned flesh underneath.

As soon as her task was finished and Lucius retracted his trembling, weak arm, Fleur moved to do the same to Bellatrix. The new pain on top of the one from her injuring face made her scream even more, and Fleur was most delighted by this while her wing extended fully at her left side. The wing began to flap, sending a purple mist flying about the ground and steadily rising silvery blonde bit by bit from its perch. Fleur slowly began to rise from the ground, easily still holding onto Bellatrix as she did, bringing the woman into the air while Lucius looked up at them in terror, still clutching onto his arm.

Fleur's leg was erect in the air, bending her clawed feet down while her other leg was bent slightly, gracefully so, while Bellatrix continued to dangle in the air. The lone wing continued to flap just enough to keep them both as high in the air as possible, Fleur now glaring at the woman who was bleeding profusely from underneath her vice-like grip. It was true that Fleur still had a fair bit of control over herself, but only when it came to Hermione. Her thrall continued to increase in strength, her eyes narrowed precariously at Bellatrix who'd begun to drool and lick at her hand zealously – Fleur was in no mood for Bellatrix's manufactured desires, and was especially not in the mood for anyone who made any attempt, no matter how small, to defile her woman.

"Do not lie to Lord Delamort," Fleur growled, finally taking the opportunity to dig her talons further without any patience for making Bellatrix suffer slowly. "You dare disrespect Hermione. You filthy woman. I amthe one with the fool-proof plan, even should I fail when Hermione arrives. You are of no use to me, doubting the woman Fleur loves. If you doubt Hermione, then you doubt me. If you are jealous of Hermione, then you are jealous of me. She and I will soon be one… Separate entities.. but still one, powerful, romantic being."

Bellatrix's eyes rolled to the back of her bleeding head, and Fleur shouted in disgust while she ejected the filth from her grip and immediately sent her flying into Lucius's pathetic form. The violet was growing in power, more and more and more, and Lucius pinched Bellatrix to get her to stop her pitiful drooling. Bellatrix and Lucius both watched feebly as Fleur extended an arm out to them, making her palm face them while she moved her body about to face them in profile. Her nostrils were flared, violet eyes were narrowed still, and her fingers were curled ever so slightly.

"I know you both doubt me," Fleur said loudly, "just as you doubt Hermione. I see it in your fear; I smell it in your doubt that I do not have complete control over Fleur. You doubt my actions, my decisions, my very being. You even doubt why I removed your Marks. Lucius, for you, it is because you disobeyed my orders. There is an entire city, a metropolis of living Veela in Diagon Alley that I'm choosing to let alone for now. Paris, Lucius. Paris! Despite the wonder that is Fleur, you failed me. And Bella, you dare insult Hermione with your wicked thoughts. I do not need followers. Hermione is all I need…"

A powerful gust began to erupt behind the two ex-Death Eaters, blowing at them, towards Fleur, just as every bit of wind in the room did. Every single particle of sound, air, movement, light, emotion; it all gathered right at the centre of gravity that was Fleur's powerful hand. Lucius and Bellatrix could only cower on the ground, immobilised by the anger gathering high above their heads. The sounds in the room all melded into an amethyst black hole at Fleur's palm still pointing down at Bellatrix and Lucius; more and more did everything continue to gather at the centre, building in strength, in magnitude, in desire.

And then it all stopped. Fleur stopped gathering power. Any light in the room was gone except for the golden glow of Fleur's skin and feathers. Any sound that remained was from the gentle flap of her single wing. Any emotion that lingered still was the violet laser from Fleur's line of sight, burning Lucius and Bellatrix on the ground. Fleur merely smirked at them and shook her hair from her eye before speaking softly, but audibly enough for them to hear her as clear as crystal.

"Love has given this to me. Such…sweet irony. I am a Sorceress; I can control time inadvertently, I can control emotions, but I cannot control Hermione. Not now, not ever…but she will stand by my side. And, depending on what I decide, perhaps I will be able to sit here and file my nails in peace. Hermione will come.. She will. But until then…"

The slice of pained, fearful looks upon Lucius and Bellatrix's faces and the overwhelming pounding of their heartbeats in their chests were cut short and overwhelmed by a loud vortex of emerald, two screams, and three tinkling bells of sinister laughter.

---

Soft fur over a plush, white expanse of a body lay cradled in desperate arms just under a sleek body of dark chocolate brown tresses. Any ounce of sanity, of patience, of understanding still remaining was hidden well in the clean fur warming such cold, frozen arms just under a fitting white shirt. Legs under black and silver jeans were crossed as she sat in the comfortable chair, though the comfort was lost upon her the longer and longer she sat hunched over and clutching onto Noel for dear life, wishing that everyone would just silence themselves. No one paid any mind to her steadily losing her mind while she continued to sit within herself, feeling her patience slip from her just as the occasional drips of desire did amid her thighs..

Currents of curves were rising against each other, with each other in the darkened night of their chambers. Cool sheets and a sheet of silvery blonde lay underneath her arched back, and just on her exposed, creamy skin rode a smooth, gentle, curious hand. Nails gently scratched new territory, inadvertently marking it as her own while longer, inch-long nails grazed down her dark tresses, inching down to the smooth of her skin. Breasts were pushed firmly into each others', and a brave leg was exploring amid svelte thighs just underneath her own. Moisture was building incessantly, but the leg dared not to relieve the tension; it was there, rocking in gentle circles, just barely brushing against the sex that she desired so but desired to tease.

Five inch-long nails moved back up to sleek, dark curls and pulled in desperation, in aggravation, in impatience. Two lips silenced the woman, silently, with nothing but delighted groans to express approval for the woman's discomfiture with the teasing. Warmth began to ensue, ardently so, inside of their relentless mouths and in between thighs. Five other nails glossed down and over a slender back, gripping a mound in earnest, eliciting yet another groan from the younger woman. But the knee did not do anything further; a tongue merely continued on with much more fervour, lips continued to smother lovingly and excitedly, and the Frenchwoman could only respond, orally, appropriately.

The sounds in the night air seemed to explode delightfully in both of their ears just as nails glossed over and down, just enough to tickle delicately and tease wonderfully. The kiss turned into a smile and more fervent explorations in between a sharp gasp and low, guttural moan. Throbbing ensued between them both, almost painfully so, and the kiss only increased in zeal while the nails and fingers continued to tickle and tease just as a knee was doing in the same spot just underneath. Free hands kept on with their smooth glossing of equally, sinfully smooth skin over precious arms, backs, shoulders, necks, faces, breasts, waists, hips, thighs, sex… And the kiss continue to blow out of proportion, but pleasingly so as more pleasurable sounds filled the chilly air around them, steadily filling it with the warmth both were giving each other.

Both were frustrating the other so, and yet still pleasing them, teasing them, steadily relieving them bit by bit, keeping silent with kisses but letting the occasional flustered giggle escape them. More only continued to drip down amid thighs; husky, accented murmurs expressed approval while the source of the voice escaped the hold of the lips above her own and inched down to suckle her honey and listen to the Queen Bee herself moan in earnest. Frustrated whimpers escaped her while nails began to tickle less and less, more and more, and then less and less once more. Sexy chuckles were her only acknowledgment, her only clue that the stomach underneath her own was warming extensively from the delight of hearing such wonderful sounds. And so the whimpers of the Frenchwoman's name continued throughout the teasing, but she never did quite get there that night. Neither of them did.

This would be something that they both came to regret the next morning.

Fury, impatience, anxiety, annoyance, irritation, helplessness, desire, rue, exhaustion, madness, sadness – all of these had been swirling within while she sat with her eyes shut for hours while most around her only continued to bicker and argue and disagree. Hermione hated that everyone had to at discord be, no one could make up their minds and see that Fleur needed help right this instant! Everyone was so indecisive, intolerable, and absolutely, positively, and utterly impossible at the moment. Hermione opened her eyes and peeked at the words surrounding and suffocating her in the Headmaster's office that night, and tried to burn them all with a thousand mile stare to mirror her hollowness. She barely saw Snape's robes some inches away, flapping about while he paced the room with what little space he had in between everyone else.

Snape, McGonagall, Lupin, Dumbledore at his desk, Flitwick, Sprout, Pomfrey, and even Draco were in the office. Hermione and Draco were the only silent ones, and were the only students allowed in considering their closeness to Fleur. Hermione felt claustrophobic, especially with Draco right next to her. She felt him shooting daggers at her pained back, but the pain was not exemplified by her sitting position or even the malice of his glares – Hermione felt this way because she was aching for a woman that she could never have ever again according to what was being spouted throughout the room like oil, just waiting to be incinerated with the blazing flames of her disagreements and apathetic shouts and passions for Fleur.

Just as Hermione put a particular bit of pressure upon Fleur's breasts and navel, she was warmed and rewarded with a moan, adding wonderfully to the sounds of exploration already in the air around them. Hermione chanced finally putting her tongue to use and prodded at the swollen mounds in between kisses, keeping her hold on Fleur as gentle and want-filled as possible. Fleur sighed and allowed Hermione entry, giving another contented moan when Hermione found her tongue; it was moist and soft just as they both were, and the kiss itself. Thoughts and wonderings and questions escaped Hermione's mind while she quickly allowed herself to simply let the pull in Fleur's every direction keep her going, fully-intent on pleasing her, easing her, and still somehow seizing her as compassionately as possible.

Fleur's hands had begun to explore, still sensually frivolous, still driving Hermione further and further to deepen the kiss as much as she could. Fleur seemed very willing to watch Hermione with her senses, Hermione herself hypersensitive to the feel of feather-tipped digits and nails crevassing the muscles of her back, dipping lower and lower. Just as Hermione felt the pang of needing air finally overtake her no matter how much she wanted to continue basking in the ardour that was Fleur and her ever-braving tongue, Fleur's braver hand had slipped underneath the water and cupped a smooth mound without her even realising it.

Hermione jumped and broke the kiss without meaning to, Fleur opening her eyes in shock and realising what she'd done. What made Hermione jump the most was how much lovely pressure Fleur had placed there; Hermione was gaping at her while they both caught their breaths vigorously. Fleur tried to remove her hand but Hermione moved hers from Fleur's back and placed it behind her, smiling all the while. The deer-caught-in-headlights look upon Fleur's normally level face made Hermione bury her head in the crook of Fleur's neck and burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter; she really wasn't a control freak when it came to her.

And when Fleur pulled her closer with the arm still wrapped about her form, laughing loudly right along with her, this, Hermione realised with tears pouring from her eyes while she continued, was the first time she'd ever heard Fleur laugh like this. Any other time Fleur would only let a sexy chuckle escape her, and it wasn't as if either had ever done anything in front of the other that would make them laugh so much.

"Why would she expect Granger to join her!"

"It could be a trap, you never know!"

"As if Granger's daft enough to really join the Dark side!"

"Why are we still sitting here? Fleur's defenceless and waiting for us by the looks of it! The raids've stopped and her followers are no more! We need to act!"

"Fleur? Defenceless? Lupin, I think you need to think about what you just said. The Dark Lord is not as simple as you think…her…to be!"

"Foolishness! Fleur must have some degree of control over herself! We need to act before You-Know-Who takes over completely!"

"Minerva, don't bother yourself! It's useless!"

"But what about Hermione?"

"What about Granger? She can't do anything! None of us can!"

"She's not impossible to defeat!"

"I think not!"

"Severus!"

"She's not even in the Order—"

"I'll join, then," Hermione mumbled, eyes still focused on Snape's robes. Everyone ceased chatter immediately. "I'm eighteen."

"Then it's settled," Dumbledore said calmly. Draco snorted.

"Oh wonderful," he droned, "now all of our problems are solved. As if having Granger in your little group's really going to solve anything. Fleur's too bleeding powerful. It's hopeless. Sitting here arguing only tells me that even more. It's not worth trying—"

"So you'd rather let V-Voldemort fester inside of her?" Hermione snapped, jerking her body up to glare at him properly as she did so. Draco blanched momentarily before snorting again and shaking his head, sending strands of blond bouncing about his barely slicked back head.

"That's not what I said—"

"It sounded awfully akin to that, Malfoy. You're the hopeless one—"

"At least I'm not sitting here clutching onto some bloody toy otter like a little girl! Look at you! And you call yourself so in love with her, but you're not doing a damn thing! You're bleeding pathetic, Granger—"

"How d-dare you!" Hermione stood and clutched Noel in one hand, balling her other one at her side while she towered over Draco's cowering figure. Everyone could only look on in pure shock. "Draco Malfoy, you've been doing nothing but NOTHING this whole time, just like we have! You're not the one whose girlfriend's turned into the most powerful S-Sorceress in ages! You really are saying you'd rather let Fleur alone and have Voldemort destroy us all!"

"I n-never said that—"

"Yes. You. DID, Malfoy! And if you must know, this toy is something that brings Fleur and me together! She does have a heart and she loves me! How do you think I even feel right now! And all the while, her so-called best friend is sitting here, making me feel even worse! You're just as clueless as the rest of us as to how to go about fixing this! You are absolutely horrible to her in every way possible, I hope you know that! It's one thing if you won't accept me, but if you'd rather accept letting Voldemort having a chance to live inside of her for the rest of her life instead of being just a little optimistic, then you are so much more of an incessant prat than the one I've had the misfortune to meet and put up with for these seven long years!"

Hermione snorted loudly at Draco and barely watched him flinch horribly before she whipped about and stormed out of the Headmaster's office amidst everyone's incredulous stares. She was that infuriated that she didn't even realise that she'd thrown Noel at Draco's head during her tirade, but her legs continued to emblazon a trail behind her as she walked powerfully about the halls. Her ears could easily pick up the sounds of people following her, and even the sounds of Draco's weak voice, but she cared not for them. Her trail was already following her to the Entrance Hall, though she knew the castle doors were locked shut. She could still hear Draco calling out to her, on top of Harry, Ron, Ginny, Luna and Neville hot on her trail. She wanted desperately to tell them all to go away, and that she wanted to handle this, whatever this was, on her own. Fleur was hers and her burden alone to deal with.

"Poppy," McGonagall said. "Please tell us the hallucinogens aren't really fatal…"

"No, no they're not. Miss Granger managed to get Miss Delacour up here in just enough time for me to cleanse her system as fully as I could. The thorns, however, contained mercury. The magical version of the flower, the datura meteloides, contains mercury in its thorns. She inhaled the hallucinogens as well, and she will suffer some hallucinations from time to time until she's recovered."

"And the mercury?" Dumbledore spoke gently. "She really has…?"

"Vertigo, yes…" Pomfrey said sombrely. Hermione choked yet another sob and McGonagall moved to put a hand over her shoulder. "But she can be treated fully in a few months' time. The vertigo causes nausea and the sensation of falling and dizziness at sudden movements… There's an imbalance in her ears, throwing off her natural balance. Walking will be hard, and even after she's treated she will need to undergo physical therapy. I suggest she not move much until then, but I'm worried about keeping her here—"

"I'll take care of her," Hermione choked out immediately.

"You are sure, Miss Granger?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes… Yes, I'm positive, Headmaster… I… I feel so horrible…"

"It's not your fault, dear," McGonagall assured her. Hermione felt a heat rush to her cheeks but she stayed silent. "If anything, you're a hero for managing to find Miss Delacour…"

"But I am sure it would be a fine idea," Dumbledore reasoned, the twinkle in his eyes ever prominent. Hermione felt her stomach flip and clench with pure remorse. "We will have Miss Delacour carefully returned to her quarters. Miss Granger, would you mind assuming her title as Head Girl, at least until she has recovered?"

"That's…fine…"

"Very well then, it's settled. Poppy, do inform Miss Granger of the procedures to care for Miss Delacour and anything else you deem necessary. I have no qualms about either of them keeping up with school work once time allows. Either way, I will speak with the rest of your Professors on the matter in a few hours' time. Miss Granger, do let Madam Pomfrey clean you up. Professor McGonagall and I will have Miss Delacour in her quarters soon, and the Slytherin Common Room password will be issued to you by this evening. Do get some sleep. You've had a rough night."

As soon as she arrived at the Entrance Hall, but a deeper scowl and a brief sneer later, her wand was in her hand and being pointed to the doors as she approached them at an alarming rate. After a non-verbal Gouging Spell, a sufficient hole was hollowed out – a feat that should have been impossible given Hogwarts' ample security measures, but nothing, absolutely nothing could keep Hermione in that castle and away from Fleur any longer. Her thin soles continued on, and her feet now began to smash against the marble floor, stomping faster and harder to get her out of there and out into the night. Though it wasn't raining, she tried her hardest to imagine rain while she began to run, dash, and even sprint through the courtyard to get as far away from everyone else as possible.

Columns and archways and fountains and tile and the very night air around her could only watch as Hermione sped through the darkness, treading lightly but still carrying her entire burden on her shoulder as she ran swiftly out to the grounds. The biting cold could only gnaw and eat away at her insides while she dissected ample oxygen from it all to keep going, and making up for whatever she could not consume with her memories that kept her heart pounding and her legs pounding faster and faster to get away from Hogwarts, away from everyone else, and to get to her love as soon as possible. The frustrations and impossibilities and wants and justice and disregard all wanted to confuse her but she didn't let them; she just wanted to see Fleur now, to set things right in any way possible, no matter what that entailed. If she had to drown her beliefs to be with Fleur, then so be it.

"Hermione, stop!"

Hermione only ran faster while she shut her eyes. The tears were stinging, just like Fleur's obvious concern and the assurance that she hadn't switched. The obvious solution was to just go back inside, but that was too much of a temporary solution to a completely ambiguous and nonsensical problem! Hermione didn't care that she was being the same, running blindly about the grounds. She should have slipped and fell on the grass ages ago, or ran into a tree, a building, something…

But she could not deny that Fleur was guiding her. Fleur had so much control over her, even when she couldn't notice. Hermione was needy and scared and insecure. She was bossy and stubborn and full of bravado. But only when she remembered to be as such. And when she forgot…Fleur was there to fill the void, even though all of this was doubting Hermione's trust in Fleur to see who she really was anymore. The real Hermione had begun to hide behind Fleur and isolate herself from her friends. The real Hermione used to hide behind dusty old textbooks and grades, but thence came along Fleur who could do anything without even lifting a finger.

And yet that same Fleur was still chasing her. She was still guiding her, even still with her eyes shut against the blades of the rain and tears against her eyes.

Further down the sea of evergreen she went, reminded strongly of the fine emerald she'd come to love so much on Fleur's uniform, trying hard to visualise a sheet of blonde flipping to and fro in front of her, tipping at the end like a dove's tail and beckoning her faster and farther and harder with the ease of a hypnotist but the fervour of the one and only Fleur herself.

The pummelling sounds of heartbeats raped and attacked and pounded away at Hermione's insides, making her strive to run as fast as her heart and run with her heart, still somehow able to imagine Fleur being that very heart that she was running with. A defiant scowl was still on her face while she neared the gates of Hogsmeade. Not even a nanosecond could go by before she was away from the Enchantments of Hogwarts and free to Apparate right inside the Ministry to where Fleur was apparently waiting on her.

So many things had changed in an alarming way that Hermione could hardly believe how much she and Fleur both had evolved ever since September. September, and the day of their first real conversation, Hermione's first glimpse of the woman that she'd come to love so much.

Fleur was the embodiment, to Hermione, of something that she could never touch, never be, never quite understand. But her mind and heart was screaming from the very depths of her that she wanted this knowledge. Hermione needed something…she wasn't sure what it was she needed, but she felt secure even if Fleur was staring her down while Hermione was technically the one above her.

Also, technically, they were friends… So, they needed to start somewhere. Staring and crying wasn't getting her anywhere. Hermione sniffled one last time and calmed her silent tears, at least for the moment, before she searched her throat and heart for the right tone of voice, a soft but certain tone, to hand to Fleur, to show her…something.

That something…that inexplicable something kept tugging at her vocal chords, but she swallowed and endured the sting before willing herself to speak…

"It's nice to see you awake again… I'm sure you're wondering what happened…" Hermione licked her lips expectantly, noticing a strange flash behind Fleur's eyes as she did so. But Fleur said nothing. Hermione chewed her tongue a bit before deciding to go with just a soft tone with which to speak with… "I'm so sorry… This is all my fault… I… Well… You see—"

"Out with it."

"S-sorry…" Hermione flushed considerably and nearly kicked herself to not flinch at the spite in Fleur's commandeering and still rather hushed tone of voice. Still, the softness in her own tone prevailed while she tried as she spoke to find the right words, no matter how impossible it seemed. "Well… I assume you remember that I found you behind one of the greenhouses…?"

"Vertigo. I have it. I know."

"What…? How?"

Again, Fleur chose not to respond. Hermione winced; Fleur must have known what the dangers of the flowers were if she was trying to get rid of them… Fleur seemed to see the understanding swim through Hermione's eyes and merely continued to stare, to observe. Hermione blinked stupidly for a moment, completely thrown by the intensity in Fleur's eyes, despite how surreptitiously warm they might have been under the surface.

But…now was not the time for that. Later…

"Well, Fleur… I suppose you can guess that I volunteered to, ah…care for you… I-it's the least I can do… After all, I hope that we're still…still friends. I'm so…terribly, terribly sorry…"

"You amuse me." Fleur's tone was ebbing with a cryptic edge but Hermione tried to let it go over her head.

"What do you mean…?"

"You've never said a word to me in seven years. Look at you now. You're—"

"Pathetic… I know."

Hermione hung her head slightly, though unable to tear her eyes from Fleur's. The frozen gaze turned into a mock amusement, the trademark Slytherin sneer upon her face… Hermione bit her lip and chewed the thin layer of skin while she watched the shadows on Fleur's face flicker with the candlelight. Her eyes were too dark with something, a mysterious kind of something to see the fire in her eyes at all…

"Actually, no," Fleur mused, raising her right eyebrow as she spoke. Hermione widened her eyes momentarily, managing to catch a small bit of playfulness, however small or illusory it may have been.

"Then what am I to you…?"

"You are…" Fleur thought for a moment, still studying Hermione's eyes. Slowly. Ambitiously… "You are… ignorant. I have other words… But I'd rather save them for later."

"Later as in when…? Does this mean we can still be friends?"

"Friends, enemies, rivals – whatever. I don't care, really. Your motives are shady."

"I… I know… I mean… I've just been so…so… frustrated… all these years."

"All…these years… Years… All of these years without me…"

If Fleur really was waiting for her, then the only thing Hermione could do was grant her wishes, for once not even thinking about possible consequences. She was just.. feeling.

---

"Do you really think we get reincarnated, somehow?" Hermione asked absently as she and Fleur were walking slowly through the grounds one afternoon just weeks earlier, holding hands as per usual. "It makes sense that we would be."

"Mmm, really?" Fleur asked interestedly, watching their legs walking close together. Hermione smiled and nodded.

"Yes. I find it hard to believe that we just cease to exist. People've told me that I have an old soul or something.. as if I've lived as another person before."

"An old soul? So there are new ones and old ones? New ones as in people who've never lived as another before. I think that disproves your theory."

"Oh.. No! Fleur, really… Certainly you've thought about these things."

"Yes… but I've thought more about ending lives than just ending the cycling of souls, to be honest..."

"You mean…suicide."

Fleur stopped walking and held Hermione's hand tighter while she kept her eyes downcast, focusing on their identical shoes while she kept her silence. Hermione looked up at her with concern while she stood directly in front of her, clasping her free hand as she did so.

When Fleur still showed no sign of wanting to say anything, Hermione situated her face so that her neck was curled down, easily letting her eyes peer up encouragingly into Fleur's. The small bout of hollowness in Fleur's eyes dissipated on contact, and she flinched ever so slightly at Hermione's surprising warm expression, even suppressing a shudder when Hermione placed her face on Fleur's chest.

"You have me," Hermione said simply, "and I know it's still sinking in. Sometimes…when you smile, I can see bits of sadness in your eyes."

"I'm…trying, Hermione…"

"I know, Fleur. I know.."

"And do you know something else..?"

"What's that…?"

"Right now.. especially right now… I can't live if living is without you. So I don't want you to even think about…anything ending. Not anymore."

"But—"

"Just stop it, Fleur! Stop!"

Hermione removed her face from Fleur's chest and stomped her foot for emphasis while she scowled up at her. Fleur winced and nodded, finding the foot stomping entirely too endearing at the moment. Hermione's face relaxed surprisingly quickly, almost as if she sensed Fleur's mental approval of her actions. Fleur looked down at her questioningly, and Hermione seemed to have lit up with understanding.

"I have a question for you," Hermione said gently. Fleur nodded and licked her lips. "Are you afraid of me…?"

"Afraid of you..?"

"Yes." Hermione looked entirely serious and Fleur swallowed, though the Gryffindor knew that Fleur had heard her perfectly fine and was merely fishing for time.

"Why would you think that?" Fleur asked, and quite evasively at that. Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Well, for starters, you never look at anyone else this way."

"What way?"

"Sometimes.. you look at me with a starry-eyed expression. And whenever you do…God it sends me soaring. Sometimes…you look at me with lust, with begging, with want in your eyes.. that gets me even more. But the third look that you never give to anyone but me is this one right now – there's this tinge of fear hidden under this blue staring down at me. You're the strongest and most assured person I know.. it's one of the reasons why I love you so much."

"You mean you don't want me to be scared of you…?"

"So you are," Hermione breathed softly. Fleur said nothing and Hermione smiled gently at her. "Strength does include admitting your fears. I just told you now that I'm essentially afraid to live without you, meaning that I can't.. I just can't… But I can't see why you're afraid of me."

"I'm afraid of letting you down.. I'm afraid of not being enough for you, of not giving you enough, of not being able to prove to you each and every day that I only want the best for you. I'll stop at nothing to please you, but I'm still…afraid of you, just you, as you said.."

"I completely appreciate how much you want to take care of me, Fleur. I truly, truly do. As long as you do everything in your power and everything else you'd like, then I promise I will appreciate it. I appreciate you. But I still don't see why I myself have to be included in your fears…"

"You are…" Fleur trailed off, still breathing the invisible syllables of her words while she bent down, slowly, decreasing the space between their lips as she did so. Hermione automatically let her eyes flutter closed and angled her face up, letting Fleur's soft, full lips brush against her own, "strange, Hermione… You are strange." Hermione did not open her eyes and simply let Fleur kiss her gently in between equally gentle words. "I will never…be able to understand you. There is.. a thrill… in trying, in giving myself to…you.. in hopes of being able.. to learn your ways…and to memorise… your eyes.. and the… twinkle and warmth they give me…and me alone…

"But I need you.. to understand…that there is just.. something about you… a certain… je ne sais quois…an I don't know what. It.. bothers me…sometimes, but I like…being able to kiss you.. and bask in what I do understand – your love.. You are.. fiery…passionate…so intelligent with the concrete and the.. unknown that is me… You know so much.. and I don't…hate you.. for it. I love you for it…you understand me.. And yet I'm still afraid of that…of how…fast.. you soak up knowledge… how easily you soak me up in your arms, your lips, your mouth.. Pleasing you, one day, will be the death…of me…"

Gentle footsteps echoed through the spotless Atrium, and Hermione continued to scowl while she kept her eyes straight ahead and her hand gripped around the base of her wand. She could hear one lone voice behind her, one pair of footsteps shuffling just in her wake, of the only one who, ironically enough, had the courage to follow her all the way and the common sense to figure out where she'd Apparated to. Draco was complaining, muttering to himself about having to carry Noel, but Hermione paid him no mind. She was too busy honing in on any other sounds she could possibly pick up in the dark, empty great space surrounding them while she absently ran her thumb along the band of her ring.

Hermione and Draco had walked all the way to the fountain in the centre of the Atrium, just past the extensive range of fireplaces connecting to the Floo Network. Sure enough, not even seconds after Draco began to whine about them being alone, completely vulnerable to Fleur, several eruptions of emerald spouted about the room, revealing all of the members of the Order of the Phoenix, as well as the rest of Hermione's comrades.

But Fleur was smart, obviously – the second they all arrived, they were trapped behind invisible, sound-proof walls and they could not Disapparate or Floo back. They could only watch as Hermione stood her ground, waiting for something, anything else to happen, presumably Fleur's arrival. While she waited, she honed in on the view of the fountain, watching the water curiously. Draco was spouting some nonsense about leaving, but Hermione was too engrossed in the questions treading softly through her mind in regards to water. Veela were water nymphs, were they not..?

"Mmm…Hermione, you humour me."

"What do you mean…?"

"What are you really trying to ask me?"

"I just want to know…how you…feel…about me…" Hermione wasn't entirely sure herself what she really meant, but Fleur showed no sign of befuddlement. Her grace was exemplary, really…

"I love you."

Fleur's mouth curled into a lazy smile while she watched the red rise in Hermione's cheeks once more. Perhaps it was just now that Hermione realised how her heart was beating, feeling so overwhelmed with flattery and bliss that Fleur really meant what she said. A giddy part of her may have even imagined herself boiling in the water now, melting into an extremely grateful friend. She tried to muster something to say, the horrifying realisation that she was smiling stupidly at Fleur attacking her.

Instead, she crawled to the other side of the bath and held her friend, fully aware that she was sitting right in between Fleur's legs. Her own were at her side while she kept her head in the crook of Fleur's neck, closing her eyes contentedly when she heard the water shift one last time before being enveloped in warm, strong arms.

"I love you too," Hermione whispered to Fleur's soft, lukewarm neck.

They sat there in silence for a while, Hermione enjoying Fleur's company immensely while she let herself become swept away in the current of serenity she was in. She hoped that Fleur was right with her, and a stronger part of her never wanted Fleur to let go of her.

Neither of them touched each other further than undressing each other and Hermione carrying Fleur to and from the bath each time. The undressing in and of itself was very…sensual, Hermione had to admit. Something she'd never experienced before with anyone. It was nice…

Feeling Fleur's arms around her bare flesh was just as nice, she concluded dreamily. A night away from her and she'd forgotten the whole reason why she became so caught up with Fleur – she did love her strongly. Hearing Fleur tell her was extremely relaxing and self-fulfilling. Harry and the others had a different kind of friendship with her. But the one she and Fleur shared was so much deeper, even if they hadn't known each other like this for years. There was no need, Hermione surmised. A few months was all it took for Hermione to see how much she really cared for Fleur, despite their rocky past and disagreement of friends and supposed House rivalry.

"Fleur…" Hermione began softly.

"Hm?"

"Is it silly that I admire you so…?"

"No. I just don't see why you would."

"You don't care about things…but the things you do care about…you care for them with all your heart. It must be nice to be indifferent to the things you don't want to be bothered with and be so immersed in what you do want to love."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that."

"Really…? But for the longest time you didn't care that I…well…sort of hated you… But now that we've moved past that, you've shown me such a wonderful side of yourself. I really, really appreciate that you're not afraid to be yourself with me. In my experience most people who bottle things up aren't good at letting people in…not for a long, long time anyway…"

"Hermione, I haven't shown you who I am. Don't mix things up."

"What…? But Fleur… I know this is who you are. You're so kind and subdued with me, like how you were outside… I can just tell. Besides, I know Malfoy and everyone else don't receive this kind of treatment from you."

"I am calm with you, yes. And no I don't treat anyone like this except for you. But like I said, you haven't seen who I am."

"Then show me…"

"You're just saying that."

"I'm…not… I love you, you love me…what do we have to hide from each other?"

"Nothing."

After letting the water inadvertently still her senses, it left her barriers down and her emotions exposed to high degrees of sensitivity, ranging from boiling to steaming while she felt a dribble of sweat run down her forehead and settle on her set brow. Doubt had no place in her heart at the moment, but every ounce of emotional upheaval that she'd been experiencing for the past week began to grate her, slowly, exposing her chest to the palpable, blaring fear that was her heart beating madly against her, despite herself. Her heart could only carve out Fleur's name and every time she'd uttered it, every way she'd uttered it, and every where she had, too – whether out of anger or sorrow or pleasure or treasure she felt the subtle climax of what Fleur could and always would be able to do to her.

Fear did course through Hermione's veins, chilling her but still freezing in just the right way to keep her standing strong. The sounds of water cracking into ice did seep a glacial mist throughout, settling within as quiet, breathy voices akin to a serpent's tongue. Breaths continued to escalate in volume, from seemingly different people, varying in volume, all joining to become one meld of snake-like voices that only further pronounced the panic that should have been Hermione's entire being.

A cloudy miasma akin to a stormy night began to cloud her thoughts and attempt to blind her. She merely let the voices bounce off of her, closing her eyes periodically to intake deep, quiet breaths to still herself, keeping Fleur in mind and keeping her doubts at bay, while perfectly able to see the light shining through that was Fleur. But the snake-like voices continued to float throughout her mind, staying in the background while breathy, distinct, horrendously sensual accented voices melded with something sinister spoke to her, and only her.

So weak, Hermione… So…vulnerable… Do you love me, my sweet..? Do you love me…? Are you so in love to the point of ignoring your fears..?

"Yes," Hermione said sternly, proudly. Draco looked at her as if she were mad but the voice merely chuckled deeply, heightening Hermione's senses even more while she gripped onto her wand like a stress ball, trying to keep calm. But only he seemed to be able to notice how much Hermione was trying to rid the cricks in her neck.

Are you angry at me…? Angry at Lord Voldemort, but in love with your Fleur..? I've practically killed her, you know. Don't you want to give me your rage…?

"No." Hermione shook her head and shut her eyes momentarily, eliciting a deep chuckle while her breaths thinned considerably. More beads of sweat began to dribble down her face, and she barely heard Draco exclaim something and run off to the side to tend to someone.

Rage more, Hermione.. Or at least let out your anger somehow, someway, before I find you… I know you hate Draco.. I know you do, ma chère… Such a coward, he is. He won't help you but he'll run off to tend to his Father that's cowering over there, just barely breathing..

"I don't care about him."

Certainly.. Certainly, my Queen… I believe you. Whatever you say. But if you want him dead, just speak the word and your wish will be granted… No matter what it is.. I have the power to give. I have the power to give you absolutely anything..

"Let me see her."

You are sure..?

"You said you'd grant me whatever I wish. So yes, let me see her."

Smart girl… I chose well, it seems…

A deep, guttural, contented moan floated through Hermione's ear, filling her and settling in the form of a fervent ardour just as a surreptitiously sophisticated gust of air blew from her same side, billowing in front of her, steadily. The air was mauve, filling Hermione with a bout of rage and passion all at the same time while she watched the haze grow a sheet of gold and sprout a very large, long golden wing, steadily moving past her and forming right in front of her the complete form of what she'd only been able to glance at from underneath a bed like a coward. And the air, she presumed was that irresistible thrall… the embodiment of every single one of Hermione's desires, carnal or not.

Hermione honestly didn't think anymore when she did this to Fleur, but now she was fighting back near excited squirms from the sensations and the tiny jolts Fleur's hand kept sending through her system. It was almost as if she were massaging her way up her inner thighs while she dried, finally settling right in between, honing in on her sex.

No one had ever touched her there before, sans towel or not. She felt the truth settle as a very comforting haze right below her heart, the vapour hovering its way up to melt her heart more and more the longer Fleur worked.

It literally was a very long time that Fleur lingered on her sex, Hermione noting herself that no matter how much Fleur tried, her efforts were fruitless – the younger girl seemed to be incapable of being fully dried there.

Hermione was fully aware of how shallow her breaths had become, of how much she was tingling in between her legs, and of how her eyes may have even gone out of focus when Fleur removed the towel, tilting her head to the side in curiosity while she observed. Fleur was looking right at her sex, any ounce of disgust or discomfiture free from her regal visage.

Something was building in Fleur's eyes that were somehow darkened with a strange haze that Hermione couldn't quite pinpoint. Hermione knew she wasn't uncomfortable being so exposed to Fleur, and her eyes knew better than to try and rake Fleur's form.

But it definitely seemed as if Fleur may have been exuding her sex appeal a little more than usual, so much to the point where Hermione felt twinges of the allure. It wasn't overpowering, and Hermione merely blinked and it was gone, leaving her to be consumed in the fire of her own strange passions within.

"Hermione…" Fleur began softly.

"Y-yes…?"

"You're wet."

"No I'm not…you've been drying me."

"I meant in between your legs."

"Oh… w-well… I d-don't quite understand it myself, really."

"Mmm…"

And then Hermione's lungs nearly collapsed in on themselves when Fleur swiftly moved down and spread Hermione's legs apart, her warm, soft tongue making quick work of the bit of heat slicking from in between her and licking it right up. Hermione bucked her hips and shut her eyes while her torso shot up from the counter and she grabbed a handful of silvery blonde silk, a muffled whimper escaping her during the everlasting second that Fleur kept her dexterous tongue on her slick nether regions.

The sensations that flashed through her and the accompanying images that shot right through her mind felt entirely too natural, however unfamiliar they were… A carnal wonder sated Hermione's senses while she arched her back and threw her head behind her, letting a guttural groan exude from her while she let herself bask in the newfound feelings. Feelings didn't even seem to do whatever she felt justice…it was something far more than that…

And Fleur, the sexy beast, inched her tongue up tantalisingly slowly, from the source of the heat to the mound of nerves and staying there, feeling Hermione pulse against her before she pulled away. Hermione immediately felt her body shudder and drown in spasms merely from Fleur keeping her tongue on that one spot, gently brushing a kiss on her sex as she did so…

And Hermione still hadn't let go of Fleur's hair while she slowly opened her eyes. She calmed her breaths slightly while she watched Fleur with breezy eyes, feeling more warmth in between her legs while she studied Fleur's still darkened eyes behind her fringes. Fleur curled her back about in a positively feline manner while she backed away, gently scratching her fingernails down Hermione's thighs while Hermione was forced to let go of the blonde gripped in her hands bit by bit.

The nails felt too good on her skin. Fleur's hair was too soft in her fists. Her tongue was too soft and moist against her just now. The feelings were…strange… Fleur was her first in so many ways that it nearly scared Hermione. But was it a disturbing fear or a fear that she wanted to get used to…?

A more prominent face than the one she was used to materialised from under the sheet of gold that was slowly forming silvery blonde locks over a slightly ripped fitting white shirt. Hermione gripped her wand once more when she noticed the rosewood clasped between talons, both on Fleur's feathered hands and protruding from her slightly ripped trainers. Feathers were even poking out from the tiny rips along the black and silver jeans over her elongated legs. But the worst part, despite the golden feathery arms and slightly whiter single wing nestled behind her, Hermione was completely taken aback by Fleur's eyes.

Purple. Purple was staring back at her, leering powerfully while the owner of such unfamiliar eyes stood in a perfected poise with a lecherous scowl upon her face. Purple was the colour of Fleur's thrall surrounding her, exuding from her. Hermione didn't dare show Fleur any sign of surprise and instead held her ground firmly, easily drowning out the presence of anyone else in the Atrium and focusing on the sound of her own breathing. It was true that her heartbeats were still pounding mercilessly against her chest and probably giving her away, but she convinced herself that the fear was non-existent. The fear had melded into a cold, hard, powerful, relentless reminder that she still loved the woman before her, even if Voldemort had taken over her body considerably.

Shivers crawled down her spine and skin while she and Fleur continued with their staring match. Neither of them dared to blink as they both learnt quite well how to do from their extended training sessions for months beforehand. Fleur extended her wing while she cocked her hip and bent a knee, folding her arms while she continued to glare at Hermione, drinking in the sight of her, basking in the fury that she'd come to adore so much in Hermione's eyes. Fleur shook her hair behind her while she continued to stand, to observe, to watch, to study…

The shifting of Fleur's robes and bag and proximity all seemed to happen at once for Hermione, and it took longer than normal for her to feel her flushed face cupped in both of Fleur's palms. They felt cold for a moment until the warmth was shared with her hands and her eyes. Fleur's smile honestly reached her eyes while she stared into Hermione's that were searching so desperately for something. Anything else… A cue, a clue, a plea, permission; anything…

But Hermione didn't quite know how to read Fleur this way as of yet. She tried her hardest to learn and to master given the limited space and time that they had before Madam Pince shooed them out. The slight tug that Fleur was exerting on her face, towards her, should have sent signals off… But the signals were muffled and awry because of how much they were busy setting her hormones off at the moment from Fleur's increasing closeness. Her back was curled about in that same manner, the glow in her skin was becoming more and more apparent, and the fine details of the hair covering her eye were becoming clearer. But Fleur's intentions were not, especially when she angled her face to the side and slid one hand down Hermione's neck on the same side.

All Hermione felt was cold slipping down her flushed skin. Like ice; molten ice their skin touching skin had become between them while Fleur moved her mouth to Hermione's ear. Hermione could almost hear every other tiny sound in the air combust into nothing while Fleur's naturally more perfect figure came to take their place. Hermione never wanted her to leave; the place was hers and she was all too willing to let her have it for as long as she desired. But Hermione wondered what was brewing between her moistening ear and Fleur's lips now.

She realised with a horrible pang that the nail of Fleur's thumb was residing on her throat in such a way that she could feel her insane pulse. She slowly registered the everlasting scent of chocolate, parchment, and the tiny smell of her thrall. Did it really have a smell, Hermione wondered… But the wondering was smashed to bits and left her with nothing to think about except for soft, perfectly uttered letters and words in the shape of Fleur's deep voice.

"You're looking too hard… Try again when you aren't trying so hard to find something."

"I'm… Fleur, you—"

"Do you know what one of the hardest things about life is…?"

"No… what…?"

"Having words in your heart that you can't utter… Usually it's just better to act on them than to try and make sense of them so soon… But how do you act on them…? How…"

Words were stymied inside of Hermione; an internal flutter was fanning too much of a good thing and rendering her useless. All she could do was feel Fleur breathe in her ear and caress her face and neck with her thumbs. There was nothing Hermione could analyse because she didn't want to. She was acting on what her heart was telling her, and it was screaming loudly for her to close her eyes and feel. It shouted and yelled from the very depths of her being and warmed her so much with the explosion of sounds in such confines of her body. There wasn't enough room for what she was bottling inside of her; she needed to share it…

But there was so much noise inside of her. So many words and impulses and cheers and doubts and memories of her and Fleur together that she didn't know what to do with herself… Instead she merely sat there like a fool and stared even while Fleur held her hand out to her. Hermione came back to reality soon after and hurried to put her things away. After slinging her bag over her shoulder, she took Fleur's hand and let her friend, just a friend, walk her back to the Gryffindor Tower like she did every night.

Fleur always held her hand whenever they went on this walk. Fleur always held her hand whenever they went on walks on the grounds, Hermione only managing to feel confident talking about the weather and classes. Fleur even always held her hand in the hallways whenever she'd walk her to class. People stared and people knew, but only people could see the out of place smile on Fleur's lips whenever they walked together. Hermione was always so busy thinking and thinking, convincing herself to wait until term was over before jumping to any conclusions. Fleur often told her to loosen up but Hermione would always be so caught up in her mental discipline that she didn't know how to go about doing that.

Even now, walking so close to Fleur and feeling her hand that was slightly larger than hers clasp her own…it was difficult. Difficult to keep up with the discipline and to let her worries and fears and doubts cloud her in a more reprimanding manner than a manner that she simply couldn't help but worry and fear and doubt. But tomorrow was the last day of term. Tomorrow was the final string of the web of hesitation she'd woven for herself.

She couldn't even ask Fleur to go to the Burrow with her and the others, but Ginny was only too happy to ask her along. Hermione couldn't bring herself to tell anyone but Ginny, who passed it on to Harry and Ron, that she'd written Mr. and Mrs. Weasley countless times, telling them about Fleur ahead of time, just in case. Of course Fleur obliged politely. Such poise, such strength, such will of character…

"I'm surprised," Fleur said gently after some time.

"By what?" Hermione asked airily.

"You haven't mentioned the weather or classes this entire time. Or anything else for that matter."

"I just have a lot on my mind…"

"Yes, I've noticed the change in you. But I figured it wouldn't be wise to bring it up unless you said something first."

"Oh…" How considerate of her… Hermione smiled just as they walked up the last staircase to the portrait of the Fat Lady. "I… I'm just worried that I'm reading things incorrectly."

"You seem quite literate to me, Hermione," Fleur mused.

"What…? N-no! No, Fleur… It has to do with you."

"Mmm…what about me?"

"I'm trying to wait until term is over before I try and tell you."

"You're trying too hard."

"Hermione," Fleur drawled in her dichotomist of a voice. Hermione bit down her shivers and desires to flinch with a magnanimously large amount of difficulty, "you are so fearless. Gryffindor is finally able to say his piece in regards to fine tuning you, love."

"Just as Slytherin can say he's made yet another follower?" Hermione asked snidely. Fleur smirked at her and nodded.

"Perhaps. But I only have you to thank. Vertigo, vertigo, vertigo…"

"You can't give me a guilt trip, if that's what you're trying to do," Hermione said with an unusual amount of conviction. Fleur's feathers lifted dangerously for a moment before she sighed, releasing the tension about her.

"Of course not," said Fleur curtly, even making an attempt to give Hermione a winning smile as she did. Hermione merely continued to scowl, clearly unmoved. Fleur frowned maliciously. "You know very well that I care about you. And I know you care for me. So why don't we use that." Fleur extended her hand, revealing the skin of her palm and curling her last two talons upward while she looked at Hermione expectantly. "Take my hand and let me keep my promises. I will do anything for you, Hermione. Name it and it will be done."

"I'm not the only one who cares about you," Hermione said standoffishly. Fleur flinched and retracted her hand. "And I love Fleur, not you. Fleur would never go to such lengths, even if it is for me. She does have a sense of justice. And so do I. I refuse to listen to you, Voldemort. Fleur has a family and friends, and I'm not going to stand here and let you use me, confuse me into possibly taking that away from her. You've done quite enough of that and I won't stand for it!"

"What…?"

"You heard me!"

As they walked hand in hand through the crowded Platform, through the bit of steam and in between the path that people were slowly parting for them, Fleur held back a wince from the lingering vestiges of her head pains. She barely noticed Hermione had let go of her hand, smiling while she turned to embrace Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and even the twins goodbye. Fleur barely felt her body float along momentarily, the absence of Hermione's warmth entwined with her freezing hand soon making her come to a stop. The voices of everyone around her, of goodbyes, of love, of luck, of life – they slowly faded into nothing along with the steaming of the Hogwarts Express on her right.

Her flat feet felt as if they were suddenly frozen upon the cold ground. A bile of guilt and shame built within, spattering her system while she tried to ignore the recollections of her sins but still failing so horribly. A hiss-like bout of laughter settled in her mind, giggling and cackling and guffawing in such a surreptitious way that she scowled deeply at the emptying path before her. It was as if she'd stopped, and was panting slightly now, because of something that had materialised some yards in front of her while she could only hear the ominous sounds of her increasingly shallow breaths. A body. The body of a man. Certainly not her Father, and this man was certainly much more pale. And bald. And…infuriating. But still so…familiar. The red she saw seemed to be familiar, anyway—

If Fleur thought she was breathing fast before, it was nothing compared to how she was breathing now; two pairs of arms had spun her around to crush her with a hug. The near onslaught was maddening, as was the rest of the sounds on the Platform that finally seeped back into her mind. Fleur took a deep breath when Fred and George finally pulled away and beamed at her, Mr. Weasley soon stepping forward to hug her briefly and wish her well before his wife came to do the same. Fleur barely heard a reminder for her to keep her promise while they pulled away. Bill thankfully wasn't there and Charlie had returned to Romania the evening before.

Even though the snake-like laughter continued to echo slightly in her head, Fleur tried to take in the sight of the Weasleys for a bit longer. She was torn in between hurrying off so as to not appear nostalgic, but another part of her wanted them to see her gratitude. Though she was distracted by her inner troubles at the moment, she tried to ignore them while she stood and regarded them all even after the others had boarded, assuming Fleur was right behind them. Fleur felt the need to say something…anything.

"I.. Well… Thank you. All of you."

"Even us?" Fred grinned.

"Yes, even you," Fleur chuckled, ignoring the searing pain in her head from having done so.

"I must say I'm simply quite honoured," said Mr. Weasley, "it really has been a pleasure meeting you, Fleur. Do take good care of Hermione."

"I already had her promise she would, Arthur," Mrs. Weasley said warmly.

"She did," Fleur said curtly, "I assure you I will."

"Good," said George, "or we may just have'ta come and take care of you if you don't!"

"Right he is," Fred nodded, "Hermione's our little angry angel, she is."

"Angry angel…?"

"Well yeah!" George said. "See, she was always gettin' peeved at us 'n our rule breakin'. I hear she's loosened up quite a bit, though."

"That she has," said Fred, wiggling his eyebrows as he did. Fleur gave them a winning smile and rolled her eyes.

"I'm sure I know what you mean. But anyway, I have to head off."

"You'll come visit us over summer, won't you?" Mr. Weasley asked expectantly.

"Hermione's comin'!" said Fred. "So of course Fleur is too!"

"He's right," Fleur nodded. "I'll see you then."

"Cheers!" said the twins while Mr. and Mrs. Weasley beamed and waved goodbye. Fleur swallowed a foreign knot in her throat while she nodded, still smiling while she returned the gesture before turning to leave. She also had to blink a few more times than normal while she boarded the train, fighting a powerful urge to turn back and look at them one last time.

"You've taken over Fleur's body but you can't control me," Hermione said vehemently, not at all caring that Fleur's feathers were lifting once more. The sight merely made her grip her wand even tighter, if possible. "And if you really will do as I say, then listen to me and leave Fleur alone! You've done nothing but victimise her all her life! She doesn't deserve this!"

"You cannot kill me, foolish girl," scoffed Fleur, though Hermione noticed the fear settling in the amethysts before her. Fleur stood her ground even with Hermione advancing towards her in profile, pointing her wand with enough poise to rival that of any one of her own stances. "It is futile to even think about defeating me! If you even dare attempt to kill me, Fleur may go with me—"

"She may, Voldemort," Hermione said assertively. Fleur began to back away once Hermione was within a yard of her, looking down fearfully at the vine wood before her. "I'm more than willing to try and find out myself, despite the risk."

Fleur said nothing. Hermione stopped to watch the darkening vessels that were just under Fleur's sculpted brows, memorising the way the glow about herself slowly deteriorated into dark shadows under the fine contours of her regal face. Fleur soon began to tremble with rage, finally flapping her wing powerfully in such a way that she was propelled backward and into the air, a good distance away from the rage and fire that was Hermione. Before Fleur could even raise her wand, Hermione brandished her own in her direction and shot an illegal amount of fire that only continued to build in vigour the closer it became to her. Fleur let out a loud groan and cut the flames down before they could reach her, sending them curling about right back in Hermione's direction.

Hermione shot her wand directly at the tip of the curling flames and whipped it about with her arm so that the entity formed into a whirl of flames, something that she'd grown quite apt with over the passing months. The concentrated scowl never left her while she continued to channel the flames closer to Fleur, pushing back against the barriers Fleur had placed in front of herself and was doing a rather excellent job at holding. Hermione smirked inwardly once Fleur did what she'd been expecting, and hoping for – shoot a large jet of diamond dust right at her flames.

The hellfire continued stronger than ever, not at all fazed even by Fleur's increasing sheet of sparkling dust she was placing in front of herself. The diamonds coagulated closest to her, and the rest continued to melt with the more power Hermione put behind the raging flame that was burning powerfully for Fleur, without fear, and with every single lesson she'd learnt from Fleur. The flames and dust were slowly turning to water, and Hermione cut her focus in half; one half on her flame and the other on controlling the water that was forming. Fleur was being pushed back higher and higher into the air still from the forces, both of their hair was flying behind them dangerously, and both were mirroring the scowls on their faces, even with the impossibly large and bright orange and sapphire pyrotechnics between them.

Steadily the flames did melt all of Fleur's diamonds, and Hermione didn't hesitate to whip the entire body of water into her control while Fleur immediately shot a sizable beam of ice at the entire ocean between them. Hermione directed the water down, creating a tsunami to go right underneath Fleur and disturb her from her flight while she took steps forward with extreme difficulty. Soon Fleur was engulfed in the raging water, and Hermione wasted no time in lassoing the Leviathan back in her direction while she watched Fleur writhe inside of her creation.

But just as she tried to lessen the pressure and to have Fleur fall right at her feet, the water began to glow violet, and the figure right in the centre was stilled, flying with an erect body and crossing her arms right in front of her neck. Soon the entire tsunami began firing off rays of amethyst, steadily brightening into an almost ultraviolet whirlpool just as Hermione finally lost all control over the water. She lowered her wand and tried voraciously to catch her breath while she watched a dark silhouette right in the centre. Her heart was beating madly but she knew she needed to anticipate, and not simply react to Fleur's next move.

Just as the mauve began to erupt enough to send manufactured earthquakes at Hermione's feet, she quickly conjured her Patronus. The silver otter hopped about the air just in front of Hermione, shielding her from the explosion that was Fleur's rage coloured purple and the wave of Fleur's ultraviolet frustrated cries. The rest of what was the whirlpool had congealed and exploded into shards of amethyst ice, causing every bit of the endless fields of grass above their heads and on the walls to shatter, for the large drop down picture of the late Minister of Magic to be ripped to shreds, for the barriers over the fireplaces to blow apart, and for Hermione's otter to dematerialise just when its task had been completed and the loudness that was Fleur's visceral counterattack to subside.

But Hermione noticed something of great interest while Fleur slowly began to hover back down like a piece of parchment swaying in the wind, almost.

Fleur lowered her weakened body down into the fountain, and Hermione ignored her screaming lungs while she ran over to meet her. The statues were completely destroyed, and Hermione jumped over the remains, landing loudly in the water just as Fleur floated to the surface. Hermione finally felt her face having contorted into an expression of dire concern and hope while she swore to herself that her nerves were perfectly natural. Said nerves multiplied tenfold the second she held Fleur's limp body in her arms and felt to her knees in the shallow pool of water. Hermione was breathing at an alarming rate while she kept one arm around Fleur's body and wing, and her other hand tangled in Fleur's sheet of hair. She lifted one leg to place her foot at the bottom of the pool and to rest Fleur's head on her thigh while Fleur looked up at her sternly, but still so weakly. She wasn't even breathing.

"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…"

---

"Hermione…" Fleur's voice was weak, but it was entirely her own; even her eyes had reverted to their blue colour. Hermione felt a knot in her throat while she smiled and nodded, feeling completely relieved. "Don't look at me…"

"You're safe now," Hermione said gently while she brushed aside a fair bit of hair from Fleur's eyes, ignoring the large crowd that was watching them from a safe distance.

"No…"

"No…?"

"Put me.. away…"

"Away where…?"

"They'll know…"

Hermione could only gape as she watched Fleur cough, almost hacking dangerously while her body shuddered and wracked with spasms. She could almost feel the spasms herself of the horrible realisation that her world was once again collapsing in on itself – she hadn't meant that she was perfectly fine with taking such a risk and possibly killing Fleur in the process of ridding Voldemort. She knew what Fleur meant by putting her away, but Hermione knew more than anything that she couldn't bear that alternative. It was either or at this point, but she couldn't make up her mind; she couldn't even make out what it was that she was feeling.

But she knew for certain that she felt Fleur's gentle hand on her face. The talons were still there, traversing through dark tresses, allowing Fleur to settle her weak palm on the back of Hermione's trembling head. Hermione couldn't ignore her crying insides that were failing her body, reducing her to a shuddering mess that was threatening to spill with tears and deviant cries. Nor could she ignore the way Fleur was still somehow giving her a charming smile while lowering her head to meet hers, slowly but surely bringing their lips together while Fleur's second hand rubbed Hermione's back in an almost consoling way while they kissed.

Holding her gaze was addicting; she felt a lusty haze darken her eyes and relax her eyelids while she continued to stare. Everything but Hermione had gone out of focus, and the wonderful pleasures from being with her at a distance made her want to fall to the ground and pine and moan herself to submission…

And as soon as her Patronus floated from her wand, everyone and everything stopped. Fleur could barely put the silvery animal in her line of sight before her eyes flew closed. Time ceased to make sense of anything anymore, and everything happened at once.. absolutely everything…

Her Patronus had changed. It was no longer a sphinx. Fleur had changed; emotionally, mentally – Hermione had helped her undergo a large emotional upheaval to bend and smooth over a new shape to her very being.

She was no longer standing – it felt as if her body was on a high and yet she was still slowly falling, wrapping her arms about something immediately not to break the fall but to make it fall with her. Despite the crescendos and falling, she felt as if she were atop boundless clouds. And yet it was almost like losing complete control and letting herself freefall, but with someone else for a change.

It was blissful and explosive at the same time, still, even now that she was flat on the ground with a pair of arms around her neck and something else with her, inside of her… Something else that she'd only been able to gaze at for so long…and it felt so many magnitudes more than just relieving that she'd received first and wasn't the one giving.

Fleur's Patronus had changed to an otter… and what was better was that Hermione did take heed of her advice; she acted impulsively; spontaneously like the combustions and explosions going off inside of her, sending a passionate steam swirling within that settled into a near dangerous drive for her… It was like that night all over again when she'd become so humbly consumed with her own sexual drive, except this time she had every right to believe that it wasn't one-sided anymore..

Hermione was the one that choked back a sob while she bolted towards Fleur, uttering such an adorable cry of joy at the same time that it melted Fleur's insides into a saccharine waterfall that crashed down within, cutting off any and all control over herself, easily making her moan.

Hermione had charged at her and sealed their lips together from the sheer flattery and utter joy that she'd made such an impact on her, sending them both falling to the ground while their otters hopped about their tangled bodies. Hermione was kissing her… Hermione.. kissing her… Collective stares from everyone only further tangled more and more layers over the two, shielding them from the cold and any and all impossibilities in the world when it came to anything.

The lips upon hers and the fingers tangled in her hair thawed her from her frozen shock. Fleur was almost too dumbfounded that Hermione had finally stepped past the threshold of their simply being best friends and acted on her wants and took a chance. Fingertips, nails, hands and arms brought Hermione as close to her as possible while she finally registered just how supple and wanton Hermione's lips were, full in their own ways and somehow whispering imaginary pleas and gratitude through the heart-shaped lips that she'd finally seized. Fleur only had to inch her head up and ease her lips further into Hermione's; both of them were severely depraved from the other and far beyond overwhelmed and shocked and still somehow so sweetly satisfied..

Exploration took place, their lips searching and familiarising with uncharted territory that was finally their own. It was intense, smouldering, fiery – just like Fleur always believed Hermione's eyes to be. Their heads moved this way and that, faces still plastered on the others', barely getting any breaths in between trying so hard to make the most of their moment after far too long a time of restraint.

An arpeggio it was, between them – fast with their lips one way, slowly moving back to revisit and then soaring right back up the scale of how soft and right it felt for their lips to be one. Everything else was forgotten while they let low, throaty moans and sighs escape them on occasion, barely leaving room to let them catch their breaths that they damned for needing as much as they needed this moment and each other. So many wonderful memories of their time together sewed right together with this moment, creating a completely different image of a timid Hermione to one that was no longer afraid of anything.

Wind chill was blocked off from the warmth ensuing between them, bequeathing them with an ever-growing feel for the other no matter how surreal it felt to be so close and creating such tender chafing betwixt them. An epiphany.. a finally moment – and it was all theirs for the taking, neither wanting to let go and both so, so, so insanely desperate in their passions, pleading with the other to never ever stop.

Hermione's body betrayed her yet again while she shut her eyes and reciprocated, feeling white hot trails cut down her eyes and face, seemingly burning away the more defined sculpts about Fleur's face. The tears nearly drowned Fleur's morphing face, sending off steam that was the warmth in their mouths and the burning shame that had melded inside of Fleur. Tears continued downward, burning off feathers, retracting claws, causing a lone wing to retreat painfully back inside Fleur's back from whence it came, but still not having the power to make Fleur cry, no matter how much she wanted to.

She could only listen as Hermione continued to sob in between kisses, lay there as Hermione held her tighter than she'd ever held her before, and whisper her endless apologies in between tasting salt, pouring passion into her kisses, and mixing up every last bit of her energy into a playful lick of Hermione's supple, swollen lip before her consciousness began to fade out. Fleur did hear pained cries, calling out to her, begging her to stay, but it was impossible.

Even if she did love Hermione so, which she did whisper to her, the shame was too much. The knowledge that she'd lost to Voldemort crippled her in every way possible. Despite Hermione standing by her, and even still loving her once she'd transformed, it was all too much to handle. She didn't want to handle it. Hermione was too good for her…something she would still never, ever be able to grasp and understand. The irony was dripping from every ounce of the situation and Fleur was not strong enough to want to deal with it, or to even consider such a thing.

Not even Hermione could save her from this, to simply nurse her back to health right after. Every bit of her dying psyche was screaming this to her, and she simply let herself fall into a deep coma to make them all shut up despite how much she wanted to keep smiling at Hermione. The better part of her mind was telling her that it was Hermione screaming, but she couldn't bear it. Hermione was strong; she could wait for her to get herself situated. Until then, she needed silence. Time to think. Time to repent.

Just wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Patience and understanding, and remember to smile…

---

Hermione could not fathom how she was able enough to sit in the Great Hall, at the Gryffindor table, in the mostly refurbished Hogwarts late that afternoon. She couldn't eat. The rest of the students around her, most especially those allowed to return, were barely any better off than she was. Ron was next to her, Harry and Ginny across from her, and she was sorely missing another love that should have been right next to her. No one was talking very much; not even the excitement that term had finally ended, despite the severe week-long gap that had occurred earlier that month. Hermione also could not seem to be able to understand how it was that she and the rest of the Seventh and Fifth years had gotten through their examinations. The rest of the school had a break from end of year exams, but Dumbledore made a wise decision to continue with O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. exams; Hermione didn't want any reason to return to Hogwarts and possibly repeat classes. It was June fourth when Hermione last saw Fleur before she was taken to St. Mungo's. But only temporarily.

No one knew what to say to Hermione. She could only be extremely grateful that no one blamed either her or Fleur for what had transpired. Not even Draco had anything to say, save for a sincere apology while he returned Noel to her, unscathed and cared for, as they were leaving St. Mungo's that night. Bellatrix's whereabouts were unknown, but Lucius was finally convicted of his crimes and locked away in Azkaban along with Narcissa for supposedly aiding and encouraging Lucius's use of the Imperius Curse against Fleur when she was but a girl. Draco seemed rather torn while he, Pansy, Blaise, Theodore, Crabbe and Goyle sat in their usual area of the Slytherin table. Not even Ron had anything to say about the blond, nor did anyone else in the school; they knew how close he and Fleur were. But Hermione was unsure as to how Fleur would react if she knew that the entire Wizarding World finally knew of her past, her age, and yet still revered her beyond belief despite what she'd done.

Everyone knew of the consequences of possession, as the Wizarding World had seen many a Sorceress and Sorcerer before Fleur's time. It wasn't until recently that they'd begun work on a mechanism to combat the source of what made a Sorceress – the very wretched soul of the one doing the possessing, while still keeping the victim's body in-tact. Fleur's 'ceremony' was to be held the following day. It felt awkward to call it a ceremony, but it was not exactly a burial, either. It was all only temporary, but Hermione didn't know how long it was meant to go on for.

She didn't seem to know anything anymore… There were too many strings tugging down, making her want to cry, but those same strings seemed to have been pulling her up, lifting her high in the Enchanted sky and reminding her that she still had her memories. She followed her heart and did what was right, but because of lingering struggles for power that had begun years ago, she was still sitting so hollowly within herself while she could only think, reminisce, and recollect nostalgically on the days that she never would have foreseen as having to be put on indefinite hold…

On one May evening, Fleur took Hermione along with her, sneaking her off of the Hogwarts grounds and Apparating with her to the Leaky Cauldron to of course take her to Paris. The two were sitting right at the top of the Eiffel Tower, mainly for Fleur to have a grand opportunity to continue combating her diminishing acrophobia, and to sit and have a talk with Hermione while they observed the city. They were holding each other, Fleur pointing out to the expansive magical city of lights, explaining what this and that was, and how old she was when she'd first gone to such and such place.

Hermione was smiling so much, almost too much, while she leaned on Fleur and kept her head on her shoulder. Fleur's warm cloak was enveloping them both, shielding them from the wind and covering Hermione's face so that only her eyes could peek out to what Fleur would gesture to every now and then. It was especially relieving that even though they were outside, Fleur was completely normal and not behaving strangely at all. But a strange pang continued to hit her, and it only resurfaced more and more the harder she tried to pin it down. There was simply something about sitting there with Fleur that night while she saw just how 'miniature' of a model the city was. This certain something made her not want to leave the warmth of Fleur's cloak and arm wrapped about her form, nor did she even want to move from that spot.

She peered up curiously after noticing she'd spaced out momentarily and watched as Fleur let out a charming laugh as she stared up at the stars. Hermione pressed her body against Fleur's side in a questioning gesture and Fleur stopped laughing to smile warmly at her, though her lips were quivering. Hermione continued to gaze up at her in curiosity and Fleur sighed delightedly.

"You look…adorable like this, you know. With my cloak over your face and everything. More so than usual." Fleur smiled even more when Hermione creased her brows and rolled her eyes, clearly not having wanted this reply. "I asked you a question just now and I'm assuming that you spaced out on me." Hermione gave Fleur an apologetic look and could only nod, and Fleur shook her head, still smiling. "It's fine, Hermione. It's perfectly fine."

Hermione inched her body into Fleur's side again in a prodding gesture and Fleur sighed once again. "All right, all right," Fleur said before moving her lips down to kiss Hermione's forehead and staying there. "We should move here whenever we decide to get out on our own. Everyone here probably already knows you by now, and I know you know French. You'd fit in just fine." Hermione nodded and kissed Fleur's shoulder. "Good. But I'm sure your parents—" Hermione again pressed her body against Fleur's side.

"My parents…?" A nod and another kiss on the shoulder. "That's very sweet of you.. It's been a while since I've had a family… The Weasleys are wonderful as well. I'm looking forward to seeing them again. And…thank you. I wonder where I'd be right now if not for you. Probably stuck in my room pretending to not care about being unhappy.. But even though I've never had anyone such as you, and even though you make me happy…it hurts, sometimes.. Maybe it hurts because of how good it feels…

"Or.. maybe it's just growing pains. I've changed a lot. For you, for myself, for…our family. Family.. something that I will never, ever take for granted ever again. Or you. Or my life. You really are wonderful beyond words, actions, gestures… It feels nice to sit here with you and get away from it all. But I feel silly right now… Silly because I don't really.. know what else to say… Maybe I don't want to say anything at all. Maybe I just want to sit here and smile or laugh or just…cry.

"I think I do want to cry, Hermione.. and I don't know why. You do that to me… You say it's okay to cry.. you say it's okay to feel overwhelmed at times… You say it's okay to feel angry at Draco, at everyone else for seemingly no reason, at the world…just because I'm still a bit of an angry person… You're so accepting of me and so generous and so kind.. if I ever claim to want you any other way then I'm not myself. And yet you'd still love me anyway.. You would… You would.."

Hermione automatically held Fleur more tightly than before once she felt a single droplet upon her forehead. She didn't want to or even think to question why Fleur was crying, and could only smile while she swallowed the knots in her throat and tried to ignore the familiar twinges prodding at her insides. Fleur really was just a big softie underneath it all, and Hermione was ever so thankful that the woman that was so intimidating towards everyone else could cry silently in her arms…

"There is no one to blame for this," Dumbledore began evenly, signalling the start of the end of term speech. What little chatter there was in the Hall died quickly while everyone gave him their attention, though Hermione was struggling to even turn in her seat to look at him properly, "except for Lord Voldemort. Yes, we were fools to think that he'd been vanquished so easily many nights past. Because while his body is useless, he quickly found another, turning the one you all look up to into a victim of her own heritage.

"Lord Voldemort is taking advantage of Fleur through living among the source of her thrall – her emotions. But we know that we can rid Fleur of her daemons and extract the wretched soul of a wretched man from her body. All she needs is time once the extraction begins. Give her that much; do not give her your hate, your blaming, or your negative energy.

"Simply be grateful that Fleur had the amount of control over herself that she did – the raids that went on did not result in a single death of our loved ones, or anyone else, for that matter. Yes, Fleur did kill…but she killed Voldemort's followers, all except for Bellatrix Lestrange whose whereabouts we are unsure of, and Lucius Malfoy who is now in Azkaban Prison. Lucius has committed many heinous crimes and will suffer the consequences along with his wife. His son, our own Mr. Draco Malfoy, had no part in any one of these crimes. I ask of you to not direct your hatred towards Draco at all, for he knew Fleur better than almost everyone…"

Hermione honestly felt everyone's eyes turn to glance at her momentarily before looking back to Dumbledore, and her face burned horribly for the short time. Ron put an arm around her and she continued to stare at her now empty plate, seemingly feeling the rivulets that had fallen from Fleur's eyes fall from her own as she continued to sit. She appreciated Ron's friendly squeeze and Harry and Ginny's sympathetic looks, but she was unsure if she could sit through the rest of Dumbledore's needed speech. Hermione knew that she was the next topic that needed addressing. And though she felt honoured to have such a place in Fleur's life, there still remained the truth that she was sitting in the Great Hall, without Fleur, crying.

And even though she wasn't the only one crying, she felt singled out by the action alone. She felt beads of sweat on her nose and the strain on her lungs to keep her sobs to a minimum volume, though Dumbledore was speaking loudly enough as to rise his needed words above the collective sobs in the Great Hall. Even Snape and McGonagall seemed to be sitting beside themselves, Hagrid was weeping openly, and Dumbledore looked rather pained, but Hermione could only avert her eyes to stare at her ring now while she let everything out, again; crying was not anything foreign to her that month ever since that final night she'd been allowed to see Fleur.

"Hermione…is also not one to blame for this. Love is a wonderful thing, and no one knew any of the repercussions that Fleur, or any of us, would have had to experience from their increasing bond. Fleur is an extremely gifted individual, but she held onto her beliefs and emotions so tightly; it seemed that none of us could ever bring down her barriers. However, Hermione did… We ought to be thankful that Fleur will be able to live her own life, to have a family, to have Hermione, to be free of pain and the constant need to guard her emotions in due time. Their love is not any less powerful, despite what has happened, or even because of the truth that they are both women. Homosexual love is no different than heterosexual love… This…is a powerful testament to that.

"Two powerful minds were brought together this year; one from the House of Godric Gryffindor, the other from the House of Salazar Slytherin, and both Houses have been notorious in the realm of House rivalry. To remedy this, let it be known that, for both Fleur and Hermione's efforts, both Slytherin and Gryffindor shall receive five hundred plus any more points either House needs to let them be tied for the House Cup this year. Hermione and Fleur both challenged each other immensely this year…in every way imaginable. It can never suffice to say that they merely learned from each other and improved beyond credible limitations. But hear this.

"I ask you all to put aside House hatred from now on, even those of you that are humbly graduating this day. While the Slytherin House has its stigmas, I urge you to not discriminate upon any of its members. It is true that every single Death Eater that Fleur has slain belonged to Slytherin, they acted on their own accord when they decided to join Lord Voldemort's ranks. They do not represent the Slytherin House as a whole. Fleur believed in abolishing House rivalry, and I am here before you today to enforce her words. You are free to ignore me if you wish, but Fleur is a noble woman that deserves to be heard and listened to.

"As you now know, she is a member of the Order of the Phoenix, as is Hermione. I award Fleur an honorary graduation for her already withstanding superb intellect, as well as the strength of character and respect among you all that earned her the title of Head Girl. I also award Fleur and Hermione both, as temporary Minister of Magic, Order of Merlin, First Class for their efforts. Special Services to the School as well as Outstanding Efforts and Minds for the two is in order, along with the aforementioned House points. As per request of Mr. Malfoy, I also award Fleur an honorary reward for her efforts as Reserve Seeker for the Slytherin Quidditch team in her Third Year.

"But let me make it clear that these awards I have bestowed upon the two can in no way compensate for the sacrifices that need to be made soon. Tomorrow, in fact… I implore you all, if you ever feel the need to hate again, to seek reason. While it will be nice to visit the Trophy Room and observe their awards, I urge you to remember the lessons you've learnt this month, most especially today. Adults, or those simply expected to keep order, are not always the ones with the solutions. You, as individuals, have astounding potential. Collectively, it can grow into something far more powerful. This something, perhaps, can compare to the bond that two people can share such as Fleur and Hermione. But the answer to that question, as always, remains but a mystery, waiting to be solved…"

---

Walking up the ivory steps leading to the entrance of the Sorceress' Memorial was nothing short of difficult, but difficult didn't seem to do the struggling justice. Hermione wanted to hate that the sun was shining that day as she walked up the steps at the fore of the limited group allowed inside, but she hadn't the energy for hate. She wondered if she ever would. Have energy, that was. Just energy. Energy to consciously continue to walk up a wide staircase, energy to blush at the knowledge that every eye of the Wizarding Community of Great Britain and France was on her as they watched from a distance, crowding the surrounding expanse of cement. Perhaps it would have been better if she'd just fainted now and gotten it over with…but then she would miss out on getting to see Fleur one last time until… Until a time that she would soon find out…

The Sorceress' Memorial was a long, white building in the shape of an oval, with smooth edges and expansive windows on the ceiling to allow for natural light to light the building during the day. At night or sunless days, the building ran on excess collected solar energy to keep its Chambers running smoothly. And though Hermione knew she was nearing the double doors, she wasn't sure if she could handle finally letting Fleur go. Sure, it was only temporary…but how long was temporary? It could have been that the true meaning of temporary had been distorted, just as Fleur's psyche was. Just as Hermione's insides were while she tried her hardest to at least not cry… Not yet.

As she walked into the cool building, her skin seemed to have frozen on contact with the shade while a man in a white lab coat led her and her group just down the bright hall into a rather large, empty room. Just in front of them was a transparent wall and an open door on the very same wall leading to a human-sized Repository Chamber on the wall just beyond that of the transparent one. Hermione tried to give the man her attention while her parents, the Weasleys, Harry, and Draco surrounded her. She looked up at him sombrely, and he tried to smile encouragingly but the attempt was lost upon Hermione once she'd heard the answer to her nagging, nagging question.

"Four years," the man said evenly. Hermione felt her knees give way and Ron just barely caught her, easing her to the floor and sitting there with her, ignoring the choked sobs from everyone else. "Twice the amount of time You-Know-Who has been inside of her… The extraction process is sure to work. You-Know-Who will be frozen inside of every inch of her body. That is what takes the longest, as it requires the most precision… Once that is done, the Chamber will automatically begin the removal of the 'ice' of the soul."

"And what about Fleur…?" Mrs. Granger asked carefully. "She'll be okay, won't she?"

"Of course. I can assure you she will be, but she also needs to stay conscious the entire time…"

"The…entire time?" Draco echoed hollowly.

"If she loses consciousness it is possible that we'll lose her. So…yes.. She will be nourished and will be able to think, but we will be lessening her burdens as much as possible. Please understand…" The man surveyed everyone and gave another assistant the okay to bring Fleur in. "She is on her way from the other room now. I need you all to refrain from making contact with her…we don't want to risk anything. I apologise, Miss Granger—"

"Delacour," Hermione said calmly while she let Ron help her up.

"Oh. Hermione Delacour.. I see. Are you two married…?"

Hermione merely showed him her ring and shook her head, and he nodded in understanding just as more assistants in white lab coats walked through the transparent doorway to ready the Chamber, and behind them strode Fleur, slowly.

Every eye of the group turned to look at her, but she did not, could not, would not look at any of them. Hermione felt quite akin to a phantom, bogged down only by her burning nerves and apathy inside of her while she walked over to where Fleur was standing in her predictable clothing. Hermione was wearing the same, though Fleur's attire was still ripped, somewhat. It was at least comforting to see that she was all right, for the time being, even if she was glaring at the transparent wall before her and still standing so strong.

Fleur still had her dignity and pride, even if she was going through a nightmare. Hermione could only admire her even more while she stood but a few inches away from her, aware that she could not touch no matter how badly she wanted to. She wanted to tangle Fleur's silk in her hands, tangle her lips and tongue with her own, or even just…hold her. But all she could do was stare… Stare, stare, stare, pine, moan inwardly; cry silently while Fleur continued to ignore her.. Fleur still had her poise, her health, her commandeering respect even though the soul of a horrific man lived on inside of her.

And Hermione still loved her, despite everything and anything that did or could have happened. The way her heart still beat such saccharine sweets for Fleur and yet continued to rip her own dignity and emotions down to hell told her that much.

"Hi Fleur," Hermione breathed. Fleur showed no sign of acknowledgment; her silence burned and stung horribly like the tears cutting down Hermione's face. Hermione bit her salty lips while she began to ball the end of her shirt in her hands out of helplessness, out of desperation… "You're…you're.. you're still looking well.. Even though, you know… You're still so amazing...

"Four…y-years…is a long time. But I promise you now that I won't leave you.. I'll wait, Fleur… I'll w-wait… Do you see this ring…? I accept it.. You're so sweet, so…romantic, so many other things that I can't…seem to be able to voice right now.. Words seem so useless now… but I want you to know that no one blames you, or us, for any of this… please don't be…angry… I d-don't want to lose you. But above all, I'm sorry… I am so sorry.. For everything… Just.. everything…"

Fleur still said nothing and refused to even look at her. Hermione had a profound ache to at least see both of Fleur's azures one last time, and she had an even stronger ache to launch herself on her husband and hold her. Hermione wanted to have the power to purge Fleur of her daemons, to keep Fleur safe, and protect her as Fleur had done so wonderfully for her. But Fleur was so angry to the point of not even wanting to defile her eyes by looking at her. Hermione felt a tug in Fleur's direction and automatically moved with it, but something more than her heightening tears were weighing her down.

Ron again had to latch on to Hermione to keep her from touching Fleur. Right when Hermione once again fell to her knees with Ron supporting her and keeping her grounded, Fleur ran a hand through her sheet of hair and ruffled it up, letting the shimmer beam on Hermione's form and light her eyes up momentarily before strutting off. Whatever Hermione was shouting while Ron struggled to hold her back was ridden with insurmountable guilt and despair that would only continue to fester inside of her for a long time to come. Hermione could barely watch through tearstained eyes while Fleur stepped into the Chamber, and she was soon being supported in a way strikingly similar to a crucifixion just on the wall; not long after she closed her eyes that did not look at anyone did a glass wall be placed over her. Soon the transparent door had closed, and the transparency of the entire wall had closed with it while the entire wall reverted to solid white.

But in the transition, the ever so slow, and painful transition from ice to snow, Hermione felt the shift from solid feelings to those that may never have existed before or simply didn't have a name…a body of letters and syllables to call home. It was something far more epic than hopelessness and more derailing than powerlessness. It was more striking than being stripped of ones beliefs and very being. All Hermione could do was watch as Fleur's figure slowly began to fade out, giving way to the blizzard that enshrouded her, and Hermione could still only watch. A part of her reacted with reaching out pitifully to Fleur, trying to breach the distance between them, finding a way drowned deep in her tears and the sweat on her face to make things right.

Her hearing and eyesight seemed to have been failing her; the tears were blinding and stung as much as the white expanse before her did to every other inch of her. Her face was still contorted in anguish, in fury with her inability to do anything but cry, and her arms began to push back against Ron while her hands tried to claw at his paws holding her back from the only one she ever loved. Empowered shivers stroked her crying pores while she continued to kneel with Ron upon the floor; her eyes were wide shut and her mouth was opened wide, wide as could be, and she rose her head to the heavens while she cried out for Fleur, but no one, not even Hermione herself, could hear her. The cries and shouts ripped from her throat and shook the very heavens themselves just before she cringed and cast her body in hell's direction and she could still only cry. All was still silent, even as Hermione wailed, loud enough for thousands upon thousands, even millions, outside to hear her.

All of this – this upheaval, this torment, this flip-flop of realities – all because of a lone flower with the power to poison, to cripple, to disease. Delicacies of outward appearances, small relative sizes bringing doubts of true fragrance and impact, and assumptions based on transience – these were all contradictions that were all still so true. Like the dichotomy of Fleur's behaviour, her barriers, but her possible want to have at least looked at Hermione once more. Like the truth behind Fleur's true nature that Hermione discovered under nearly twelve-year-old barriers.

Or like the outrageous lingering smell of chocolate on her hands, Hermione herself became a contradiction, more and more, every night over the passing years. She really wondered whether Fleur feared her more than she loved her, most especially if she still would once she was free. Though the question that would haunt her most of all was the exactness of the blue in Fleur's eyes, the shape it was, the true feelings behind them.

And if there were feelings, Hermione would wonder incessantly, endlessly; never-ending her thirst of one last bit of solid truth as to whether the feelings were for her.

---

Four years later

Glacial eyes began to stir, easing her from her dreamless sleep. Sleep, think, repent, reflect – these things she had done for near endless strings of months and weeks and days and hours and minutes and seconds. Time had throbbed painfully on her mind, aging her being beyond her now twenty-four years, and yet preserving her youth just as simply as the freezing effect of her everlasting thrall. The thrall that made everything possible, that made everything impossible if she desired, and that which she could not simply remove and be done with.

Her sister passed through her thoughts on various occasions. Her heart would always automatically bow down to her sin and freeze her in the moment, adding to the build-up of what appeared to be snow and ice on the glass before her. Her family, all three of them, was another frequent topic of thought, of reflection, of pondering. But nothing more so than that of one Hermione Delacour.

The mere reminder of the woman finally made Fleur's eyelids snap open; the recollection jerked her head up along with the realisation that the sounds of air pressure outside was prompting her release. It was time to continue where she'd left off years ago. Ambition, desire, want, chauvinism and a certain knack for teasing that she'd harboured for years finally began to open a new unexplored, uncharted vessel within, making her veins warm themselves with criminal amounts of self-satisfaction.

The memory of her fear did send spasms throughout, but none was more prominent than the near seizure in her eyes that sent a wave to her irises, making them flash amethyst momentarily while she breathed dangerously and sneered victoriously. Soon. Soon…

Just wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Patience and understanding, and remember to sneer…

Scowl & Sneer.