A/N: Hi all, thanks for any and all reviews and kudos you have thrown my way! I love reading reviews to my fics and it helps me stay motivated to keep writing.
I'm trying not to second-guess myself too much, so instead of stewing over this chapter for a few days, I'm just going to post it now! Do let me know if you find any typos or mistakes though and I will fix them.
When Hermione had finally got a chance to shower and put on clean clothes (she had made an infuriatingly reluctant Fleur show her the bag of spare clothes), she descended the stairs once more.
Her shower had been uncomfortable. Stupid Fleur and her hijinks. Hermione couldn't stop reliving the drop in her stomach as Fleur had appeared naked in front of her and Gertrude Umbridge. It had been a dizzying shock at the time, but now that the moment had passed, Hermione couldn't stop thinking about it. It was driving her crazy.
Hermione slowed her descent as voices carried up the small stairway.
Fleur was downstairs and talking to someone— Tonks by the sounds.
"How're you feeling, blondie?" Tonks asked, "Having a bleak day or a better day?"
"A better day," Fleur replied, with a chuckle in her voice, "You should have seen Hermione and that Ministry official's face when I came downstairs! Ha!"
Tonks laughed— evidently Fleur had filled her in on the events of the morning. Hermione scowled, deciding to stall on the stairs a little longer, rather than burst in with a temper. The last thing she wanted was to give Fleur the benefit of another reaction.
"Oh, to be a fly on the wall," Tonks finally said, after a good laugh, "Speaking of Hermione, the Order are thinking of bringing her into the fold. Letting her in on the meetings and plans since she won't be returning to school and will be assisting with… Well… Your situation."
There was a long pause, in which Hermione leaned forward and strained her ears to try and hear any further detail.
"Non," Fleur said it loudly and suddenly.
"Why not?" Tonks asked, "Don't you think it might be better if she knew more?"
"Non!" Fleur said louder, "She doesn't need to know. She's not rational… She wouldn't understand. She wouldn't be able to help the Order with a clear head. She wouldn't be able to do what needs to be done."
Hermione gritted her teeth and balled her hands into fists, absolutely fuming at the nerve of Fleur. She couldn't stand it any longer, loudly walking down the rest of the staircase.
Tonks and Fleur were at the small table. Tonks was nursing a cup of tea, her hair spiked and turquoise. Fleur, dressed now in a summer dress, was eating breakfast delicately, picking at some berries and muesli.
"Hermione," Tonks greeted, her eyebrows raising at the sudden intrusion, "Wotcher."
"Hi Tonks," Hermione greeted, "Hi Fleur."
"I didn't make you any, if you're wondering," Fleur said rudely, not raising her eyes from her muesli. Hermione gritted her teeth.
"I wasn't wondering," Hermione shot back.
"Hermione not thinking," Fleur said significantly, raising her gaze to Hermione challengingly, "Why does that sound familiar? Hmm, maybe because you weren't thinking this morning either when you let a Ministry Official into our house without any warning?!"
"What would have been the least suspicious option?" Hermione shot back, "Slamming the door in her face?!"
"You're just lucky I can think on my feet," Fleur snapped, throwing her spoon down on the table forcefully.
"Oh, yeah, I'm sure the plan of just strolling in naked took so much brain power!" Hermione sarcastically replied.
Tonks smirked at that, looking between the two girls.
"Wow, what a loved up couple," Tonks deadpanned, "I would never suspect they were up to anything!"
"Oh shut up, Tonks," Fleur and Hermione said in unison.
Tonks laughed.
"Well, Hermione," Tonks said, in an apparent effort to ease the tension, "I'm here to drop off your things from the Burrow— your trunk, Fleur's billions of bags of clothes, and Fleur's wand. That and update you."
Hermione glanced over, and saw there were in fact a number of trunks by the door. She took a steadying breath, refusing to look at Fleur, so that she could calm her temper.
"Thanks, Tonks," Hermione said politely, before sitting herself down at the table with the other women, "How is the Burrow? How is everyone?"
"Been better," Tonks said with a frown, before sitting down and taking another sip of her cup of tea, "But Kingsley knows a bloke who can fix the bits of the Burrow that were damaged as a favour. As for the others? Minor injuries. Nothing even worth writing home about."
"That's a relief," Hermione sighed, her shoulders relaxing from a tension she hadn't even realised they'd been carrying.
Tonks cast a cautionary look at Fleur then, and Hermione knew what was coming. Tonks' face turned uncharacteristically serious.
"The Order… They're considering bringing you into the fold— proper-like," Tonks told Hermione, as Fleur sucked in her breath disapprovingly, "Since you're not going back to Hogwarts and will be around and helping with Fleur's situation."
"I'd be glad to," Hermione replied, "I think I'm just the kind of rational and level-headed individual the Order could do with.
Hermione shot a smug glance at Fleur. Fleur scowled at her.
"You idiot," Fleur snapped, "You don't even know what you're agreeing to! You're better off not being that involved."
Hermione glared across the table at Fleur.
"I'd rather know the details of what was going on," Hermione countered, "Knowledge is power."
"Knowledge is a curse," Fleur spat back, getting up from the table dramatically.
Hermione snorted.
"As if you would know anything about knowledge, Fleur," Hermione snarked.
"You're such an idiot!" Fleur exclaimed, throwing her hands up in frustration. She slipped into French suddenly, throwing out a number of curses as she stormed away from the table and up the stairs, leaving her muesli abandoned on the table. The door of the bedroom slammed loudly and Tonks winced.
"I'll, er… Leave you to sleep on it," Tonks said cautiously.
"I don't need to sleep on it," Hermione replied stoutly.
Tonks drummed her fingers on the table, thoughtful. Her freshly painted vivid green nails were already chipped.
"You trust me, yeah?" Tonks asked, quirking a pierced eyebrow.
"Yes," Hermione replied slowly.
Tonks had been such an amazing help when preparing for the wedding. After helping her find the perfect outfit and feel more comfortable with herself, Hermione trusted Tonks quite a bit. Not to mention she was an Order member and an Auror.
Tonks' gaze raised briefly to the ceiling, as if she were considering Fleur above them. She cleared her throat before looking down at her now-empty mug.
"Fleur's going through it, yeah?" Tonks said quietly, "It wouldn't hurt to cut the girl some slack."
Hermione rolled her eyes.
"She's dreadful. I get that she has to commit to a fake marriage to get her visa, but so do I!" Hermione complained.
Tonks smiled sadly, a slight ghost of a smile.
"You're only seventeen, Hermione," Tonks said, as if suddenly becoming aware of Hermione's age, "You probably shouldn't have got involved in this at all. If it weren't for bloody Bill… but that's besides the point. Fleur might have a point about it being better not to be too heavily involved with the Order. You're still young, you don't need to know the detail of what they discuss."
"In the eyes of the law, I'm no longer a minor," Hermione said defensively, crossing her arms, "I think I can handle myself just fine. Or have the Order conveniently forgotten everything we have done for the cause in the past few years?"
"They haven't," Tonks said, getting herself to her feet. She pulled a leather jacket off the back of her chair and put it on, turning away from Hermione before muttering in a barely audible voice, "And maybe that's part of the problem."
"I don't know why everyone keeps treating Harry, Ron and I like children," Hermione replied angrily.
Tonks didn't seem interested in arguing, walking to the door slowly.
"They said to tell you they're interested," Tonks said with a weary sigh, "And I have. But you should sleep on it for a bit, Hermione."
"I don't need to!" Hermione said, frowning at the eccentric Auror.
"You do," Tonks corrected, "And try and go easier on Delacour, yeah?"
Tonks left, shutting the door firmly behind her. Hermione frowned at the closed door for some time, before realising she had missed an opportunity to figure some things out. She was bothered by the fact that Fleur had been left relatively unaided at The Burrow and confused by the total lack of protection on the cottage they were staying at. She wanted to ask Tonks about it, to get an idea of what was going on. Had Fleur fallen foul of the Order already? Had she done something terrible?
Hermione bit her bottom lip, her curious brown eyes flicking to the ceiling.
Perhaps she was now married to someone that the Order wanted to keep around for sinister reasons. Perhaps they didn't trust Fleur not to help the Dark Lord?
Hermione shook her head, willing her overactive imagination to settle. She'd always been naturally suspicious and annoyed by pretty girls— they had a tendency to muddle her mind and distract her in the most curious way. She wasn't going to let her prejudices and her dislike for Fleur blind her need for rationality.
If there was something funny going on involving Fleur, she would figure it out.
In the meantime, Hermione's stomach growled. She ventured into the kitchen, spying some brown paper bags of groceries that Tonks must have brought. Fleur had only unpacked a box of muesli and a carton of strawberries, and hadn't put anything away.
Hermione rolled her eyes. She would eat breakfast and then tidy the kitchen. But after that, she was set to organise her next steps.
Fleur was angry.
The stupid Granger girl was driving her up the wall. Fleur was trying to protect her and the stubborn girl was fighting tooth and nail against it.
Fleur envied Hermione. She wished she could go back to seeing the Order as a heroic and simple group. One that just did the right thing and wanted to take the Dark Lord down. That didn't want to harm anyone in the process.
Fleur put some heeled sandals on, preparing to leave the house. She was sure Hermione would argue with her if she told her she was about to go off to an Order meeting.
Fleur didn't care. A part of her liked arguing with the brunette. Hermione's face would light up whenever she got passionate about something. It drew Fleur in like a moth to a flame. She was quickly coming to enjoy her arguments with Hermione, as much as she simultaneously loathed them.
Fleur brushed her long hair in the mirror, thinking about their argument that morning in front of Tonks. She wondered how much of the conversation with Tonks Hermione had overheard before entering the room. Maybe she had been lurking on the stairs for some time?
Fleur hadn't wanted to tell Hermione that Tonks had arrived, even though she had heard the brunette exit the shower. She wanted time to talk with the young Auror alone. Tonks was one of the only ones in the Order that Fleur had actually related to and connected with. They were friends; and Fleur had longed to have another one of her vents with Tonks that morning.
That and Fleur knew it would annoy Hermione further that she would have to use the wrong sized clothes stashed in the go-bag beneath the bed when her own clothes had arrived and had been sitting downstairs all along. Fleur had thought it would be amusing not to let Hermione know and then see her react. That part, however, had backfired on Fleur's part.
Hermione hadn't seemed bothered by the fact she had to wear clothes that weren't the right size. The tee shirt she wore was tight and rode up, exposing the bottom of her stomach. The shorts she wore too, had been too tight. Hermione seemed entirely oblivious. Fleur, on the other hand, couldn't seem to keep her cursed eyes from lingering on the bare parts of Hermione's olive skin that were exposed. She had had to force herself to stare firmly at her muesli instead.
Fleur finished brushing her hair, descending the stairs. She hated to admit that a part of her secretly wanted to look at Hermione some more.
That wasn't part of any of this. Now wasn't the time to get distracted. Especially not by the most infuriating witch Fleur had ever met.
Downstairs was immaculate. The table had been cleaned, dishes done, and groceries put away. Fleur frowned, looking around. The trunks were still left by the door, though Hermione's was open, showing some neatly stacked clothes.
Hermione herself was nowhere to be seen.
Fleur sighed, a part of her relieved. But a smaller, insistent part of her was disappointed.
Fleur sauntered over to the fireplace, twirling her wand deftly before lighting it. She was relieved to be reunited with her wand. Though she hadn't wanted to show it, she had been devastated at being parted with it. The hair inside the wand was all Fleur had left of her Veela grandmother— someone who was becoming a hazier memory inside her mind as she got older.
Fleur grabbed a fistful of Floo powder and tossed it in the fireplace.
She muttered the address reluctantly, before stepping in.
As she whooshed through the Floo network, Fleur let her mind turn back to her grandmother. She wondered what she would have made of all this. She wondered if she would have agreed with sacrificing everything for the Order.
Fleur's feet landed hard on a marble floor. She had arrived at Kingsley Shacklebolt's manor. Brushing herself off, Fleur walked the familiar way through the grand halls to the room that the Order would be meeting in.
Though it was a scorching day outside, Kingsley's house was dark and cold, the narrow windows scarcely letting light through. Fleur had goosebumps running up her arms and shoulders as she clicked her way down the hallways.
Every now and again, she saw a house elf scurrying through the shadows.
It bothered her, if she were honest, that so many of the Order had house elves. It made her wonder what they really thought of her, being part creature. Did they see her as an equal?
Fleur pushed open the double doors to enter the room where the Order were congregating. It seemed most were in attendance, some looking a little worse for wear. Remus Lupin had a heavily bandaged arm and Alastair Moody had a fresh looking cut on his face. No doubt souvenirs from the Death Eater's attack on the wedding.
As usual, Fleur did not receive the warmest of greetings. She knew most of the Order disliked her. They thought her arrogant and cold. Difficult to deal with. Some of the men roamed their eyes over her at their leisure, while some of the women scowled at her.
Fleur thankfully found a spot around the large table beside Tonks, who smiled at her.
"Wotcher," Tonks murmured, as Fleur sank into the seat next to her.
"Been a while," Fleur joked, trying to keep the mood light.
It was conflicting, really, being a part of the Order. Fleur had seen the cruelty and horrors of the Dark Lord and Death Eaters at the Quidditch World Cup. She'd heard how horrific their reign was through the stories of people her mother's age. Fleur was eager to do anything that could stop them from regaining power.
But the Order…
Fleur looked around the table. They were some damn powerful witches and wizards. Alastair Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minerva McGonagall. Albus Dumbledore himself had founded the group!
Something just didn't sit right.
Kingsley had already opened the meeting, rehashing outstanding items, attendance, intel collected. Fleur struggled to concentrate, trying to focus on the over arching goal of defeating the bigoted and horrific Dark Lord.
There were a couple of small cracks and a number of house elves arrived, bearing refreshments. They placed them on the table, totally ignored by the Order members. Fleur was the only one that thanked the elves.
It was Minerva's turn to speak now. She was a much older woman, but obviously wise beyond her years all the same. She was a formidable force of will, and Fleur couldn't help but respect her.
"As we all know, Albus was working with Harry Potter prior to his death," Minerva opened in her thick Scottish brogue, "Albus told Harry about the Horcruxes and took him with him on an endeavour to find one."
The members around the table nodded, already familiar with the information.
"Harry does not know that we know of the Horcruxes," Minerva continued, "It is key that it remains this way. If he knew, and he asked too many questions, we would risk him discovering that he himself is a Horcrux."
Fleur's jaw tensed.
The Weasleys were stoic, sitting at the table listening to Minerva. Fleur knew that they thought of Harry has another son, but they had yet to object to him being marched to his death too. At least it made Fleur feel a little better about her own inevitable sacrifice, knowing she wasn't the only one they didn't care about losing. They were just as cavalier about the golden boy of the wizarding world.
"What about Hermione?" Remus interjected, "She has a knack for discovering things. Aren't we worried she will figure it out and Harry will find out?"
"She's already taken care of that problem herself, by volunteering to aid with Fleur's visa issue." Minerva replied, glancing very briefly at Fleur, "She will need to be around enough to withstand the Ministry checks on the marriage. That leaves Harry free to pursue the Horcruxes without her."
"Ron wants to go with him!" Molly Weasley interjected.
Minerva's mouth thinned into a line.
"It will be good for Harry to have assistance," Minerva replied, "We know from his past feats that Harry relies heavily on his friends."
"How do we expect him to find the bloomin' Horcruxes without Granger?" Moody grunted, "We know he's headstrong and brave enough to get the job done… But how do we know he'll even find them without Granger?"
Minerva frowned then, pushing her glasses up her nose.
The original plan, as discussed at the previous meeting, was to subtly nudge Harry towards what he was expected to do anyway — carry on Dumbledore's work and hunt down the Horcruxes, eliminating all of them except himself. And if he failed along the way? That was still another Horcrux destroyed.
Hermione and Ron were complications. The Order had debated it for some hours last session— Harry was unlikely to succeed without the two of them, but with them, he might figure out too much.
Lupin sighed heavily.
"I would like it noted that I still disagree with this plan," Lupin growled, "I don't think it's right to keep this from Harry. If Sirius was here—" Lupin paused as he got momentarily choked up, "The point is… We know Harry is not one to shy away from obligation. I don't think he would back down and run away if he knew he was a Horcrux."
"I agree," Tonks joined in vocally, "It doesn't seem right."
Minerva turned a withering stare to Lupin and then to Tonks.
"Whether you think it is right or not," Minerva said cuttingly, "It is the path of least risk. Or have you all forgotten the last time we faltered?"
"I stand by the decision not to kill Draco!" Lupin said, standing up from his chair and pushing it back.
"As do I," Tonks replied, "That problem could have been dealt with without Severus having to step in. The problem was that we were too slow to figure out what was happening."
"I agree," Fleur spoke finally. Several pairs of eyes glanced at her, simultaneously dismissing her and judging her.
"Albus Dumbledore, the greatest wizard of our time, died because we faltered," Minerva said severely, "What did we agree when we formed this group?"
"To do whatever it takes to defeat the Dark Lord," half the table mumbled in unison.
"Whatever it takes," Minerva repeated, "None of us like the things that have to be done, but it doesn't change the fact that they must be done."
The muscle in Fleur's jaw twitched. She longed to speak out at that — it was easy to say such things when you were not one of the ones putting your life on the line.
Molly and the other Weasleys were pale, sick at the thought of Ron tagging along with Harry on such a deadly mission. But they didn't speak. They had been vocal enough at the previous meeting — Molly screaming and shouting until her voice was hoarse at the prospect of Ron being involved in a Horcrux search instead of returning to the safety of Hogwarts.
"Fleur," Minerva said, bringing the topic back to it's point, "You may allow Hermione to assist the boys in their planning and research of the Horcruxes, but you may not allow her to join them when they depart for searches. You must intervene if you see she is getting too close to discovering the truth about Harry."
Fleur snorted, earning some dark looks from people around the table.
"As if she will listen to me," Fleur replied, crossing her arms in front of her chest.
"Well, you must make her listen," Minerva replied, her tone nettled.
"Can we move to discussing the plans for when we have overthrown the Dark Lord?" Kinsgley Shacklebolt interrupted in his booming, bassy voice. The tension in the room immediately shifted, a kind of nervous excitement erupting at this conversation topic.
"Of course," Minerva conceded with a smile, "At the last meeting, we had agreed Kinglsey shall hold the office of Minister for Magic. But we did have some debate over who would hold some of the other offices that will be available when we succeed…"
Fleur tuned out. She had no interest in the carving up of prestigious government titles and portfolios. It made her feel a little sick, if she were honest. The Order could jump so easily from discussing the sacrifice of teens to their eagerness to take over the Ministry once those sacrifices had paid off.
Fleur was disillusioned by it all. The more she saw of the Order, the more they seemed like another political group driven by a want to gain power and control.
The lesser of two evils.
Fleur thought about it a lot. The Order might be inherently flawed, but they were nowhere near as bad as the Death Eaters. They would not torture people.
When the meeting finally ended, Tonks invited Fleur for a drink. Fleur accepted, though the pub Tonks chose reeked of sage and incense. Fleur eagerly ordered a red wine, sitting across from Tonks and her pint.
"I don't know about you," Tonks said, pulling her pint towards herself, "But I'm absolutely gasping for a drink after that meeting."
"That is an understatement," Fleur groaned, taking a hearty sip of her wine, "I often wonder if this is the right way to help."
Tonks nodded with a frown.
"I think the same, often," Tonks replied, "But they're the only group who know what they're doing when it comes to taking down the Death Eaters. That and they have some bloody strong firepower in there. We're kind of stuck with them if we want to take down the Death Eaters."
Fleur frowned, taking another deep drink of her wine. She'd need another one yet to calm herself after that meeting.
Tonks drank deeply from her pint too, sighing when she finally set it down.
"Enough of depressing topics, how is married life treating you?" Tonks said with a coy grin.
Fleur crinkled her nose.
"I thought you said 'enough of depressing topics'?" Fleur countered, earning a chuckle from Tonks.
The warm summer sun was streaming in through the pub window, lighting up the dusty room of the eccentric pub. It made the bright purple spikes of Tonks' hair shimmer as she shook her head.
"Hermione is lovely," Tonks said with a smile, "Not to mention, she's a much cuter spouse than Bill would've made."
Fleur pulled a face.
"She's not that lovely," Fleur countered, ignoring the mention of Bill, "She's such a know-it-all. It's insufferable. She just assumes she knows everything and tries to take over."
"Or maybe you're just a control freak?" Tonks said playfully before arching an eyebrow, "Though I note you didn't disagree that she makes a cute spouse."
"Oh shut it, Tonks," Fleur said, focussing heavily on her wine.
"You're blushing!" Tonks crowed, "Besides, I totally saw you check her out in that suit at your wedding."
"I did not!" Fleur gasped, scandalised. To her own fury, she did feel her cheeks warm a little.
Tonks giggled, leaning forward in her seat.
"I can't wait to see how this pans out," Tonks said, rapping her fingers on the table between them.
At that, Fleur's embarrassment subsided and the ever-present heavy feeling of responsibility weighed her down.
"We know how it will pan out," Fleur said stiffly.
The smile died on Tonks' lips.
A long pause hung between the two of them, punctuated only by the sound of a bartender putting away glasses behind the bar.
"I still think there's gotta be another way," Tonks said quietly.
Hermione scribbled on a long ream of parchment, surrounded by books. It was absolutely boiling in the Grimmauld Place library, and Hermione frequently wiped at her brow to rid it of sweat.
The boys across the table from her looked like they longed to be relaxing outside on the grass instead, their hair absolutely stuck to their temples and tee shirts darkened with sweat patches.
"I dunno how we have a hope of finding them all," Ron groaned, throwing his quill down dramatically for the fifth time that afternoon.
Harry rubbed at his temples, the glasses of water that Hermione had charmed to be chilled not easing his discomfort in the slightest.
"One by one," Harry groaned, "We just have to pick them off as we work them out."
"Can't we ask the Order for help?" Ron whined, running a hand through his sweaty red hair, "You can't tell me Lupin or McGonagall wouldn't be able to help us."
"Absolutely not," Harry snapped, his temper frayed by the combination of heat and little progress on where to start with the Horcruxes, "We have the keep this from the Order. It's too dangerous and they would probably stop us from going after them. Dumbledore trusted me and me alone with this."
Hermione sighed, not in the mood for Harry's heroic speeches. She set her quill down and shook her wrist, tired after all the notes she had been frantically taking. She didn't even know if any of them would be useful, she just wanted to take in as much as she could, while she could.
If the wedding had taught her anything, it was that anything could happen at all during this war. She had to take every opportunity to prepare when she could.
Ron sighed, his own hot temper close to boiling over. He drummed his fingers on the large library table. His eyes roamed around the room, clearly sick of the study and the heat.
"How's the marriage going?" Ron asked, changing the subject.
Hermione frowned. She'd almost managed to push the thought of Fleur and her stupid naked stunts out of her mind.
"Terribly," Hermione sighed, "We already got a visit from the Ministry."
"Already?" Harry echoed, furrowing his brow, "What if you'd been on a honeymoon?"
"I guess they assumed teen wives couldn't afford a honeymoon?" Hermione replied, rubbing her face with her hands tiredly, "We've been assigned Gertrude Umbridge."
"Umbridge— as in?" Ron's jaw dropped.
"Her sister," Hermione groaned, "So probably just as dreadful, just as suspicious, and just as prone to trying to get rid of part-Creatures."
"Goddamn," Ron swore, "So Fleur's fucked, then?"
"No, she's… remarkably resourceful… so far," Hermione said, clearing her throat as she managed to avoid referring to the part where Fleur showed up naked in front of Gertrude to throw her off. The image was still sticking uncomfortably in her mind.
"Think that's the first time I've heard you compliment her," Ron commented, looking surprised.
"It's not," Hermione denied weakly. Harry snorted at that.
"You've always disliked her," Harry pointed out, mopping his own forehead.
"I… I have not!" Hermione argued, "She just dislikes me. She treats me so coldly."
"She's cold to everyone at first," Harry shrugged, "I just think she hasn't warmed up to you because you always roll your eyes when she's talking."
"Like Mum," Ron added, in what he clearly thought was a helpful tone.
"I don't think I do that," Hermione sniffed, folding her arms tightly across her chest.
Harry and Ron exchanged amused looks.
Hermione pondered it. She wondered if what they were saying was true. She'd always thought that Fleur was the one that was rude to her first. Was it possible that Fleur was just acting in response to her?
Surely not.
Hermione shook her head.
"Wait, if you're supposed to stay here and help Fleur with her visa crap, how are you supposed to join us when we leave for the Horcruxes?" Ron said suddenly, accidentally knocking some parchment to the floor.
Harry frowned instantly. Clearly it hadn't crossed any of their minds yet.
"I can do this on my own," Harry said stubbornly, predictably. Ron instantly interjected with a shout.
"We will deal with it together," Hermione said, cutting short what was sure to be a classic Harry-Ron hardheaded argument, "Besides… We don't even have a lead yet. Once we're sure where to go first, we'll deal with it then."
"Right," Harry said, though he didn't sound convinced.
The conversation was curtailed by a loud rumble. Ron clutched his stomach before checking his watch.
"Blimey, dinner time already!" Ron exclaimed, "Staying for some food, 'Mione?"
"No, I'd better not," Hermione said, though she said the words resentfully, "I already stayed here for lunch, so I'd better get home and play the dutiful wife."
"As if it's such a chore!" Ron retorted, rolling his eyes, "Poor Hermione having to play house with a gorgeous bird!"
Hermione frowned, but didn't take the bait.
"I'll see you two tomorrow," Hermione said, getting up from her seat and stacking her parchment neatly, "We'll resume our research then."
"Whoopee," Ron replied sarcastically.
Hermione landed in to the small cottage, immediately struck by a mouthwatering aroma.
Stepping properly into the cottage, Hermione then saw what looked like a total war-zone in the kitchen. Splatters of flour, puddles of sauce, pots and pans and packages all chaotically tossed about the place.
Fleur was in the kitchen, dressed in a breezy summer dress with a white apron tied over it. She was humming to herself, clearly unaware of Hermione's arrival. There were pots and pans on the stovetop and Fleur was happily seasoning the contents.
Hermione stared at Fleur. She was all silvery hair and ivory skin, practically shimmering in the evening sunlight as it shone through the windows. She was beautiful, flawless. Hermione felt like she had been knocked upside the head by Fleur's beauty.
But then Fleur spun around and the humming stopped instantly. Fleur almost seemed to fold in on herself, becoming smaller and more defensive somehow. The easy smile stopped from her face and she regarded Hermione suspiciously.
"I'm making dinner," Fleur said, stating the obvious as if it was a shield she could push in between them.
Hermione found herself thinking of Harry and Ron's perspectives, wondering if it was her that was causing Fleur to freeze over.
She considered her response carefully.
"It smells good," Hermione said cautiously, as if she were afraid of retaliation. It was the most neutral thing she could think of to say.
Fleur regarded her curiously, as if she was wondering whether it was a trap of some sort. Finally, she raised her chin in some sort of slight assent, before turning back to her food.
Hermione sat down at the kitchen table nearby, not knowing whether to try and push the conversation further.
She let Fleur continue to work in the kitchen, though in a far more demure way now she knew she was being watched.
"I'm making enough that you could have some too," Fleur said just loud enough for Hermione to hear, "If you want."
Well! Look at that, Hermione mused, Maybe I did just need to try a bit with her. Maybe this could really work.
A wild thought slipped through Hermione's mind then; a sudden image of her and Fleur, holding hands. Of kissing in the summer sun. Of her body pressing Fleur's into a mattress.
A wild flush ripped across Hermione's neck and she felt suddenly too hot in an already too-hot room.
The heat… It's just the heat of the day getting to me, Hermione thought weakly, her eyes falling to the floor I definitely didn't drink enough water today.
There was the clinking of ceramics and cutlery. Dazed, Hermione slowly raised her eyes, running up a pair of toned legs. There was a dizzying throb within her and her eyes flicked suddenly to Fleur's face.
Fleur was eying her in a terribly neutral way, bringing platefuls of food and placing one in front of Hermione on the table. She put her own plate down across from her. She swept away quickly before returning with a bottle of wine and a couple of glasses.
If she noticed something was off in Hermione's demeanour, she didn't say anything. Instead, she sat herself down and poured them each a glass of wine.
Hermione forced herself to breathe evenly.
What is wrong with me? Hermione thought to herself, firmly looking at her pasta, I don't like women… Do I? Maybe it's just Fleur. Maybe it's her Veela blood?
Hermione started mentally flipping through memories in her mind, rehashing intense friendships with other girls. Recalling how it felt so much better cuddling Ginny in her underwear during a sleepover than letting Dean Thomas feel her up under her bra. Hermione took a large sip of her wine, slightly panicking at the thought that she could have missed such a giant fact about herself.
Fleur's fork scraped against her plate. It seemed to emphasise the silence between the two.
Hermione felt stifled in the hot room. She stood up and pushed a window open, though it was a windless day.
She sat back down, looking at the infuriatingly attractive woman across from her. Fleur quirked an eyebrow, pausing her forkful partway to her mouth.
"What is it?" Fleur asked suspiciously.
"Why were you against me attending Order meetings?" Hermione asked, deciding to push the conversation away from the conflicting feelings inside her and towards something more useful.
Fleur frowned, before taking a forceful bite of food.
"It's what is best," Fleur said simply, before washing her bite down with a generous mouthful of wine.
Hermione frowned then. Damnable Frenchwoman. What does she know about what is best? It seemed like pure arrogance that Fleur could assume what was best for her.
"Do you really think I am irrational? That I couldn't do what needs to be done?" Hermione asked, recalling the conversation she had overheard between Tonks and Fleur that morning.
Fleur stared at her, right in the eyes. Hermione was surprised by what she saw. A coldness, a hardness, but something else. A shiver of something.
"I do think that," Fleur said in a voice entirely lacking emotion.
Her words cut Hermione to the quick. It was probably the harshest thing anybody could call Hermione: irrational. She prided herself on her ability to keep things to facts and figures.
Hermione frowned.
"I think you're underestimating me," Hermione said, her shoulders tensing.
Fleur sighed, shaking her head, before returning her attention to her meal. Hermione silently fumed, a part of her having hoped for Fleur to retaliate and start an argument.
"You know, Ron and Harry think I'm unfair to you," Hermione said, her voice biting, "But I think maybe you're the one that is unfair. You don't know anything about me but you think you know what's best."
"I do know what is best," Fleur said simply, continuing to eat her meal.
"You're an arrogant pain in the neck," Hermione replied heatedly.
Fleur glanced up from her meal, regarding Hermione with her cool blue eyes.
"You're a know-it-all," Fleur replied evenly, "You need to get that sometimes you don't always know everything."
Hermione dropped her cutlery, letting it clatter loudly on her plate.
"Piss off, Fleur," Hermione growled. She got up from the table, no longer hungry.