A/N: Sorry for the long hiatus- Life and work has been extra tough on the ole Zero of late. Special thank you to some absolutely lovely readers who chipped in and bought me a coffee or donated money towards my laptop replacement via ko-fi.
Honestly, it really made my day and has already taken a load of pressure off my wee family! As a special thank you, I skived off work this afternoon and finished off the chapter that had been sitting around about 80% done for weeks.
Now, a comment on a prior chapter reminded me that I hadn't revisited either Fleur or Hermione's inner issues/insecurities and baggage, so there is some of that in this chapter. Bear with me as I try to ham-fistedly portray the rollercoaster of people dealing poorly with their own shit.
If you'd like to donate to me too, you can find me at ko-fi at /zerozerozero
Please drop me a comment if you notice any errors or have any feedback :)
-Z
Hermione slammed her hand in exasperation on the kitchen counter, frustrated with Fleur. They were in the middle of an argument yet again.
"Non, non, I don't understand— how do Muggle dentists not know how to whip up a simple teeth strengthening potion? It would make their job so much easier— it lasts for up to two years before you need another dose!" Fleur insisted, absolutely refusing to accept the notion of how Muggle dentists operated.
They had continued in a haphazard fashion of sharing stories and details from their lives— in between snogging— all the previous evening, until they had wound up cuddling each other to sleep in bed. This morning, they had continued, only for arguments to break out over Fleur's disbelief of aspects of Muggle life. Unlike many of their previous arguments, this one had a playful edge to it.
Hermione found herself rather appreciating how assertive and blunt Fleur could be, her deep blue eyes sparkling with intrigue and her blonde hair glittering in the morning sun. Though Hermione thought Fleur could still be cocky as all hell.
"They don't know how to make potions!" Hermione insisted, throwing her hands up. She was determined to get her point across, despite Fleur's stubbornness.
"They know about toothpaste," Fleur countered, crossing her arms across her chest.
"I— Well—" Hermione stopped to consider. She hadn't really considered that from a wizarding world point of view, toothpaste really was a kind of potion. She frowned, bothered that she had never made that connection.
Fleur seized on the opportunity, instantly sensing a weakness in Hermione's argument.
"Ah, see, so you admit Muggle dentists are ridiculously inconsistent with their offerings," Fleur smirked, walking towards Hermione.
"Taking a moment to consider your point is not the same as admitting anything," Hermione replied gruffly. However, her mood was greatly brightened as the part-Veela, appeased by causing Hermione to pause, came to wrap her arms around her.
"Mhmm," Fleur hummed, leaning her body into Hermione's. Hermione found her response awfully smug, but she was too distracted by the delightful feeling of the Veela pressed up against her.
"Though they know some potions, they don't know a great deal of them," Hermione said, trying to keep her focus as her wife began to kiss her neck, "It isn't just about not being able to use a wand or magic to concoct them— they simply don't know about the existence of a large amount of common potion ingredients that the wizarding world has discovered."
"I still think it is awfully strange," Fleur murmured in between dropping soft kisses along Hermione's jawline. Hermione wanted to roll her eyes, be annoyed at the Frenchwoman for continuing to disagree, but she was fast finding that her body didn't always follow her brain of late. Her hands made their way to Fleur's hips, holding her wife firmly to her.
"You are so disagreeable sometimes," Hermione managed to get out, though the unsteady way she spoke earned a smirk from the blonde.
"Is this disagreeable?" Fleur purred, running her hands up Hermione's torso. Hermione had never before had someone touch her with such admiration, Fleur's hands caressing her taut stomach, running up her ribs, cupping her breasts.
Hermione's brain short circuited.
"I… You…" Hermione had never sounded so stupid in her life. She was finding it near impossible to reconcile that Fleur Delacour was touching her with such desire. Fleur that she had never got along with. Fleur that had always got under her skin. Fleur with her blessed Veela beauty.
However stupid Hermione thought she sounded, Fleur seemed to love the reaction she had elicited from the Gryffindor, judging by the way she smiled triumphantly.
Hermione weighed up a retort, but for once in her life she wasn't interested in wiping the smile off Fleur's face. She smiled back, before leaning in to kiss the beautiful blonde.
Fleur moved her hands to clasp behind Hermione's neck, deepening the kiss. Hermione had just dared to let her hands begin to wander when they were interrupted by a firm knock at the door.
Fleur looked just as frustrated as Hermione felt as they broke apart.
"I swear to God if that's Umbridge I might just hex her," Hermione growled.
"Tempting," Fleur concurred, heading to answer the door.
Hermione took a steadying breath, trying to regain her composure. She felt like— though, she supposed she was— a hormonal teenager.
Her eyes greedily followed Fleur as she gracefully moved to the door, opening it for the mystery guest.
"Wotcher," Tonks greeted, pushing past Fleur into the small house. Today she was wearing a leather jacket and ripped jeans. Her hair was blonde and shaved short. Her eyes were an alarming shade of green. She had, however, toned down her usual multiple piercings— only sporting a plain hoop septum piercing.
"Tonks," Hermione greeted cautiously. She had been pleasantly surprised by what Fleur had told her the previous evening, but given the tense exchange she had had the last time she saw the young auror, she wasn't exactly sure how to proceed.
"Hey, Hermione," Tonks replied, coming up to stand by the kitchen counter, "I'm sure Fleur filled you in already…"
"She did," Hermione replied, "And I'm glad, I really am. I was horrified at everything McGonagall told me."
"It's not great," Tonks admitted, rubbing the back of her neck, "I always knew it wasn't great… But, I guess when you let things slide little by little…"
"They add up," Hermione finished coldly for her.
Tonks nodded.
"I don't agree with their methods at all… Let alone some of their final goals… They don't actually sound that far off the Death Eaters, if I'm being brutally honest," Hermione added with a frown.
Tonks sighed, looking at Fleur with a sad look. Hermione knew now that she was thinking of Fleur's impending demise. She wondered how much Tonks knew, whether she knew that the Order were insisting the Death Eater that spilled Fleur's blood must also kill her in order to shore up their alliances. Perhaps Tonks had also been dosed with the same potion as Hermione at one point or another.
"Well, you're right— we shouldn't have to settle for this just because it was set up by some great figure like Dumbledore," Tonks said, helping herself to an apple and sitting down, "I've already been doing some ground work. Remus is in— obviously. He's always respected the leaders of the Order, but he isn't a sociopath. He agrees it has drifted far too far away from its roots and original purpose."
"Anyone else?" Fleur asked curiously. Hermione felt her chest ache as a small flicker of hope seemed to dart across the beautiful part-Veela's face.
"I want to track down Hagrid and ask him, because he seems like he would be on board… But he's been so bloody difficult to track down since being sent off to seek out the giants," Tonks groaned, "I tried to sound out Moody but I got the definite feeling that he has serious distrust of anyone that isn't the Order— no matter who they are or what their goals are."
"So… It's you, Remus, Hermione and I…?" Fleur surmised, unable to keep the disappointment out of her voice. Tonks winced.
"I know, I know, it doesn't sound great— but people have achieved a lot with a lot less, right?" Tonks said hopefully, trying to cheer up the couple.
Hermione bit her bottom lip thoughtfully. She supposed that was the case with Harry, Ron and herself— they had succeeded against insurmountable odds, year after year.
"We can make it work," Hermione said decisively, nodding firmly.
"About Harry and Ron…" Tonks said, as if she had been thinking along the same lines as Hermione, "How likely do you think they would be to help?"
"Harry? In an instant," Hermione answered quickly, "He has a strong reverence for Dumbledore, of course, but Dumbledore is no longer leading the Order. Above all, he can't stand people being treated dreadfully— once we can explain to him some of what is going on, I'm sure he will want to join us. Ron on the other hand…"
Fleur and Tonks exchanged looks.
"How was he after you hit Bill?" Tonks ventured. Everyone knew how fiercely loyal the Weasleys were.
"Surprisingly fine," Hermione responded, "I don't know if it's because he knows Bill better than we do, or because he's grown up a bit in the time since Voldemort returned, but he took my explanation at face value and that was that."
Tonks smiled grimly.
"I suppose we've all had to grow up since that night when the Diggory kid was killed…" Tonks mused darkly, "Still, it's different supporting his mate hitting his brother, compared to going against the direction his entire family are taking."
Hermione thought for a moment, tapping her fingers on her lips. She could feel Fleur's eyes roaming over her, but was determined not to be distracted.
"His whole family can't be as blinkered as his parents," Hermione said, suddenly, her mind turning to Ginny. Ginny had barely been gone and Hermione already felt like the redhead had missed so much.
Tonks stood up abruptly.
"I haven't even tried to talk to Fred and George!" Tonks said triumphantly. She straightened her jacket, striding towards the door already.
Fleur frowned.
"You're going already? You only just got here," Fleur noted. Tonks shot Fleur a cheeky look as she opened the door.
"I'm a woman on a mission!" Tonks retorted, "Besides, I can't be wasting time— You should have seen how firm Hermione was with me! I can see why you think she has a real 'daddy energy' about her!"
With a sly wink, Tonks was out the door again, leaving a truly mortified looking Fleur in her wake. To Hermione's shock, Fleur blushed a pretty pink, averting her eyes.
"What was that Tonks was on about?" Hermione asked, as Fleur appeared to try and will herself to disappear through the floor.
"Oh, who can ever tell with her," Fleur muttered, though she was still blushing. She slunk her way around the room, making a beeline for the stairs to escape any further questioning on the subject.
Hermione furrowed her brow, thoroughly confused.
Though they had made great strides in breaking down the walls between them, Fleur still seemed reluctant to share too much.
Hermione sat at the table in Grimmauld Place, drumming her fingers and wondering where exactly to start.
She'd told the boys on her arrival to brew a pot of tea and settle in for an intense talk. But now she had them sitting in front of her, actually waiting for her to talk, it was a lot more difficult than she had anticipated.
A lot of the damning information she had about the Order she was unable to say because of McGonagall's stupid gagging potion.
The topic of their awful attitude towards creatures was difficult to bring up immediately when Ron's family were so embedded in the group. It would be a lot better if she could discuss that element after getting Ron used to the idea of forming their own group…
"Is your plan to wait out the war?" Ron asked, raising an eyebrow, "Because if that's what you came here to tell us, you're doing a great job of getting started."
"No, of course not," Hermione frowned at the redhead, "It's just difficult to find the right words… For reasons…"
"Why don't you start with what you know you want to say?" Harry prompted helpfully, topping up her mug with some more tea.
Hermione sighed. There was an awful lot she knew she wanted to say, but couldn't.
"Our plan, going to seek out the Horcruxes, just us— without the Order," Hermione began, bolstered by settling on things she could say, "We definitely should continue in this vein."
"What? So your big news is to tell us to keep doing what we are already doing?" Ron asked, confusion knitting his brows together. He had evidently been out in the yard of Grimmauld Place at some point in the preceding couple of days, as his nose was red and peeling, and his forearms looked like they were positively radiating heat from their sunburn.
Hermione sighed, once again feeling rather penned in by McGonagall's actions and Ron's delicate temper.
"The Order have brought me into the fold," Hermione tried to explain, "And as a result, I'm surer than ever that we are better off going on our own."
"I said this at the beginning!" Harry pointed out, "I said I wanted as few people to be harmed as possible."
"Yes!" Hermione said, pointing at Harry, "Exactly this."
"Okay," Ron agreed, "But again— how is this different from what we are already doing?"
Hermione furrowed her brow. How to explain without being able to explain so much?
"At the moment, we still meet with and help the Order, yeah?" Hermione began, "And vice versa— Like how they helped Harry leave his aunt and uncle's house for the last time. They know where we are most of the time, and we reach out to each other."
"Yeah," Harry replied. Now he was looking as confused as Ron.
"The thing is, I think it would be better if we didn't accept any help from them moving forward," Hermione explained, "And that we avoid assisting them."
"So less people will get hurt?" Harry prompted. Hermione nodded.
Ron crossed his arms across his chest.
"I get that we don't want to be dragging them into danger," Ron countered, "But totally cutting them off? I don't get that part. My family are in the Order."
"Sirius was in the Order," Harry chimed in. Ron nodded.
"It's a group of our friends and family; people we trust," Ron continued, "Sometimes we might have to rely on them or let them know where we are."
Harry frowned at that, clearly disagreeing with the idea of dragging anyone into the Horcrux mess.
Hermione longed to tell them that they knew about the Horcruxes. That if anything, they were already keeping tabs on them. She had to find another way to explain herself.
"Things have changed since Dumbledore was around," Hermione began, bracing herself with a sip from her cup of tea before she shared her unpopular opinions, "With McGonagall in charge… I can't say a lot… But it isn't great. I don't agree with a lot of what they're doing."
"What do you mean?" Ron pressed, "My family wouldn't get involved in anything bad."
Hermione had an instant flashback to the grounds at the Burrow, with Molly Weasley savagely telling her to leave Fleur in harm's way. She swallowed, unable to tell Ron how far his parents were willing to go for the pursuit of the Order.
"Their approach, it would harm a lot more people," Hermione said simply. That seemed enough for Harry, who nodded. Ron, unconvinced, folded his arms across his chest.
"That's true, I don't want anyone in the Order getting hurt when we can solve all this," Harry said staunchly. It wasn't quite what Hermione was getting at, but it was close enough. It would be easier to explain everything with Tonks and others there. Especially if she could get the twins on board to help Ron understand.
"Yes, so, we tackle the threat of Voldemort on our own," Hermione said, nodding for emphasis, "There are a few in the Order who are just as reluctant to get others hurt, they can help us."
"Like my parents?" Ron prompted.
Hermione didn't have the heart to respond.
"Like Tonks and Lupin," Hermione replied, "Fleur… and maybe even the twins."
Harry seemed reluctant to have anyone else involved at all. Ron seemed suspicious about limiting their connections with the Order.
"I dunno about this," Ron said, unsure.
Hermione sighed. She had known it would be difficult.
"I'm quite limited in what I can say, unfortunately," Hermione sighed, "But, give Tonks a chance, yeah? I can bring her around with Lupin and any others she's rounded up to explain the option."
"Fine," Ron conceded. He had been chomping at the bit to know more about what the Order were doing, as well as feeling terribly sulky about being left in the dark. It seemed he was at least happy to have somebody talking to him.
Harry nodded, unconvinced and confused, but willing to hear out Tonks and Lupin.
Hermione arrived home to her beautiful wife, smiling widely as she was reunited with the Veela— despite having only been away for a few hours.
Fleur was sitting on the couch, legs crossed, reading a letter. Her cold expression softened instantly as she looked up at Hermione.
"Hey," Hermione greeted cheesily.
"How did it go with the boys?" Fleur asked as Hermione came to sit beside her and lean her head on her shoulder.
"As well as it could've," Hermione groaned, "I felt so terrible only being able to speak in half-truths. It felt too much like lying."
"It will be easier when there are a group of us together to discuss," Fleur consoled, before returning her gaze to the letter in her hand.
"What's that?" Hermione asked, perking up and trying to read the letter.
"Our first official interview regarding our partnership visa application," Fleur replied unenthusiastically, "Predictably sprung on us with very little warning. It's tomorrow."
"Oh," Hermione replied, her mood sinking.
The room was suddenly feeling even warmer in the Summer heat. Too warm.
How on Earth were they going to blag their way through an official interview designed to catch them out?
Fleur took Hermione's hand and squeezed it comfortingly.
"We've been preparing for this," Fleur reminded her gently.
Still, the very real prospect of the penalty for fraudulently assisting a Part Creature obtain a partnership visa was rearing its head in the back of Hermione's mind. Not to mention what could happen to Fleur under the Ministry's archaic laws.
"How long do you think it would take for us to learn Legilimency?" Hermione joked weakly. Though she knew even that wouldn't work, it was hardly likely they would be interviewed in the same room.
Fleur gave a small laugh.
"We will be fine, Hermione," Fleur insisted, "We just need to spend from now until then getting to know each other even more."
"Squeezing years worth of history into one evening?" Hermione said doubtfully. What she didn't say, was that they would also need to get Fleur to share a hell of a lot more about herself than she had shared thus far. Hermione wasn't sure simply knowing names of Fleur's relatives would cut it.
Fleur squeezed her hand again.
"Hmmn, and here I was thinking you were the Brightest Witch of Your Age," Fleur commented innocently, "Or was that someone else? Ronald Weasley, perhaps?"
Hermione narrowed her eyes. She knew what Fleur was doing. The infuriating part of it was that it was working.
"All right, all right," Hermione groaned, "You can cut that out!"
Fleur smiled devilishly as Hermione got to her feet with annoyance, ready to take the challenge on.
It seemed that where Hermione's ego was concerned, it was a very serious matter, as the brunette witch went to great lengths to prepare them for the following day.
Fleur had never seen so many flashcards, quizzes, educational boardgames, and FAQ sheets all at once— let alone created so fast.
"I typically deal with dire cases," Hermione explained at one point, looking up at Fleur as she pulled the lid off a highlighter with her teeth, "As in, Harry and Ron the night before their exams."
Fleur laughed.
Within a few hours, Fleur wasn't laughing, as she realised the true extent of Hermione's stamina for studying. Fleur had always considered herself a very studious person, often burning the candles at both ends during her studies.
But Hermione was tireless. Her eyes remained bright and focussed, even as they entered the small hours of the morning. Fleur was in awe.
"Name of my childhood pet rabbit," Hermione shot at Fleur, with all the authority of a game-show host.
Fleur, caught off-guard admiring Hermione, stumbled.
"Er… Harold? Harry?"
Intense brown eyes flicked up to scrutinise the blonde over the flash card. Fleur floundered.
She hated the feeling of being inadequate, even if it were just in a quiz. Hermione's eyes were unwavering, unforgiving when it came to learning.
Fleur didn't have it right.
"Henry?" Fleur ventured.
She could tell instantly from Hermione's face she was incorrect again.
"Hector," Hermione corrected.
That authoritative tone. There was a real attractiveness to it, and Fleur found her already tired mind getting distracted.
Gods.
Fleur tried to turn her mind back to the task at hand, her eyes moving to the stack of carefully prepared materials.
The difference in the stack of information about Hermione compared to Fleur was stark. Piles of facts towered above the considerably smaller amount of facts Fleur had disclosed about herself.
Fleur felt her stomach sink.
She was trying. She really was. She felt a lot more connected to Hermione than she had with anyone else in years. But nothing could shake the feeling that something dreadful was going to happen— that Hermione was just using her as others had. Or worse— that the closer Fleur got to Hermione, the closer she hurtled the brunette towards danger.
Besides, what was there even to tell?
Fleur hadn't felt like a full, fleshed out person in years. She'd grown used to being a husk, inquired after only in the shallowest terms. Numbing any feeling within herself for fear the weakness would be her undoing.
When she had opened up to Hermione previously, sharing her thoughts on her situation, on the Order, and even the briefest of summaries about her mother… It had shaken her. She'd felt a dizzying sickness accompanying it that caused her hands to tremble. It didn't come naturally at all— and those things were nothing compared to opening up her whole life to the inquisitive nature of Hermione.
Fleur simply couldn't share any more because she didn't know how. She'd never allowed herself to be in such a vulnerable position with someone else.
The crushing realisation that she was failing at this weighed Fleur down until she felt like she could barely breathe.
"What's the use?" Fleur exhaled heavily, "We're never going to pass this. I'm dreadful at it."
Hermione's face softened and she put down the flashcards, moving around the table and closing the distance between her and her tired wife.
"Oh, babe, you will be fine," Hermione said soothingly. She drew her hands to Fleur's shoulders and rubbed them, kneading the tension out of the muscles. Fleur leaned back in her chair, sighing.
"But, I'm not though, am I?" Fleur asked, her voice suddenly vulnerable.
"Oh, Fleur," Hermione sighed, moving her arms to loop around Fleur's neck and leaning forward to kiss Fleur's cheek, "I think we should call it a night and get some sleep."
Fleur nodded, defeated, though relieved Hermione hadn't tried to push harder and force the necessary information from her.
Hermione seemed to feel a little guilty all the same, casting sheepish glances at Fleur as they headed upstairs and got ready for bed.
As they climbed into bed, Hermione apologised.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stress you out," Hermione told Fleur, "I shouldn't have pushed you so hard, or kept us up so late."
Fleur rolled over in bed to look at Hermione. Part of her wanted to discuss what was holding her back. Part of her wanted to say she wasn't comfortable with any of this vulnerability so soon.
It had been enough to open up to her as much as she had.
But Hermione was looking at her like she was the only person in the world, with that warm supportive smile, and Fleur felt herself relax. She firmly pushed her reservations to the very back of her mind, instead focussing on the good— While the attempts at mental closeness was rattling her, Hermione felt so good to get physically close to.
"It's okay," Fleur said with a small smile, "We needed to prepare. Besides," Fleur's smile turned coy, "You're quite attractive when you get all authoritative like that."
For a dreadful moment, it almost looked like Hermione was about to push the subject of getting to know each other enough to pass the immigration tests… But then the brunette's expression melted.
"Really?" Hermione asked, her smile so wide it showed she was genuinely surprised.
"Really," Fleur all but purred, moving fluidly to be on top of Hermione. Her hand came to rest on Hermione's chest and she slipped a thigh between Hermione's legs.
Hermione's breath panted out of her mouth in surprise, her eyebrows raising suddenly.
All concerns about emotional vulnerability were now so far out of sight that Fleur only had eyes for the brunette beneath her.
Then suddenly Fleur's lips were pressed against the Gryffindor's and Hermione's hands were running hungrily over the blonde. Suddenly nothing else really mattered.
They moved together, now every part the newly-wed couple that could not keep their hands to themselves. Hermione deepened the kiss, her hands running over Fleur's back, feeling toned muscle through the thin silk of Fleur's night-gown. Fleur's tongue playfully met hers, as Hermione's hands moved boldly down to grasp the blonde's ass.
Fleur shifted her thigh upwards, causing Hermione to moan and grind down on it.
Fleur felt an impossible high at bringing the buttoned-up Hermione Granger to a whimpering mess with just a thigh.
The brunette broke the kiss, her head lolling back as Fleur continued the delicious friction between them. Fleur moved to kiss at Hermione's neck, enjoying the sharp pants of Hermione's uneven breath.
This was perfect.
Fleur was comfortable with this. This was the kind of vulnerability she could do. Where she was in control, knowing which buttons to push and which strings to pull.
Plus, Hermione was the most delicious distraction from her issues with opening up.
Hermione moved her hands back up to Fleur's waist, stilling her, before pushing some distance between them.
Fleur pulled back from Hermione's neck, furrowing her brow with confusion.
Hermione's chest was heaving and her eyes were glazed. It seemed like she was enjoying this?
"What is it?" Fleur asked, frowning. She didn't appreciate the feeling of rejection.
"Fleur…" Hermione murmured absently, before blinking hard. Her eyes became more focussed.
"Fleur, I'm not sure this is the best idea," Hermione said tentatively.
Fleur, feeling as though an icy bucket of water had been dumped on her, leapt off Hermione and sat back on the mattress, folding her arms tightly across her chest. She could feel a scowl growing on her face.
"Why not?" Fleur asked coldly. Was she not good enough for Hermione?
Her mother had always told her that people would only be interested in her for her looks, and to just enjoy that. But if Hermione wasn't even interested in that…?
Distantly, Fleur knew she was being irrational. But the distance was growing between them again, and Fleur felt her walls rising up again, brick by brick. She couldn't even share anything meaningful about herself with Hermione.
Even if she did, Hermione had thought her vapid and awful before— what would stop her from forming that opinion again?
Hermione didn't even want to allow Fleur's physical advances to continue!
"Fleur, I just think you seem in a bad frame of mind…" Hermione said carefully, "I don't want us to go ahead and do something that we might regret later because the timing wasn't right."
Regret.
Fleur's mind latched on to the word instantly.
A parade of former lovers cycled through her mind, their once adoring faces cold and distant once they had had their use of her.
Fleur's expression hardened.
"You think you would regret sleeping with me?" Fleur challenged, inclining her head.
Hermione raised her hands defensively.
"Fleur, that isn't what I mean at all—" Hermione tried again, "Look, I know you're upset. I'm just trying to do the right thing… I don't want to hurt you or—"
"Hurt me?" Fleur laughed coldly, "You think you can hurt me?"
She was furious now. Fleur had nothing left to hurt. Hermione was fooling herself if she thought that she could hurt Fleur.
"Fleur, honey, it seems like you're spiralling a little…" Hermione said, her eyes wide and sincere, "What's going on? Let's talk this out."
The sincerity in Hermione's expression dulled Fleur's sharp temper a little, enough for her to lower her crossed arms and soften her expression a little. But not enough to draw Fleur out of her carefully constructed defences.
Fleur sighed.
"Just forget it," the blonde said, defeated.
Hermione frowned, her brilliant brain whirring so fast Fleur could practically hear it. Hermione reached out cautiously, but Fleur withdrew from the touch.
Hermione's brows crinkled in confusion and concern.
"Fleur, I like you," Hermione said, "I feel like we've been getting along so well lately… You can trust me."
Fleur sighed.
Everything within her wanted to believe Hermione's words. But she had believed those same words so many times before, only to be let down. Her chest ached dully.
Hermione was looking at her with such concern. Fleur wanted nothing else but to sink back into Hermione's arms. She wanted to trust her. They had come this far.
The ache within her grew.
If only Hermione knew that Fleur wasn't a person that could give her what she needed. Fleur wasn't even a person, really. She had been broken so many times before, all that was left were jagged pieces hastily taped back together.
Hermione was confused.
Confused and worried.
After the disastrous events of the previous evening, Fleur had clammed up and rolled over to go to sleep. Hermione hadn't been able to coax the woman into talking any further.
The next morning Hermione was at a loss. She had thought that by bridging the gap in knowledge about Fleur's involvement in the Order and the prophecy, they had left all their difficulties behind. She felt stupidly naive. How could she have thought it was that simple? That everything would be perfect so quickly?
Evidently there were further landmines when it came to getting closer to Fleur.
Hermione tried to think about the few things Fleur had opened up to her about so far. She had only briefly touched on the personal— other than surface things like what they wanted to be when they grew up.
Fleur didn't have a relationship with her father. She barely had one with her mother. She had been raised largely by a housekeeper.
Hermione bit her lip.
It was dreadful timing to discover this vulnerable point of Fleur. They had the immigration interviews that day.
They had to get people to buy into their alternative to The Order. A group that was formed on the need for more openness.
Hermione chomped down hard on her toast, stressed.
She wasn't sure what to do. She wasn't good with these kind of gentle social intricacies.
She had often made Lavender or Parvati cry at Hogwarts without even understanding why. She was probably the least qualified person to work out how to get through to Fleur. She had no idea how to figure out a way through to the blonde.
But she knew she had to try.
She had seen the defensiveness rising back up again in the blonde. She had seen the small flashes of hurt in her deep blue eyes.
Fleur
Even if they didn't have a visa marriage to pull off or a resistance group to form, Hermione would be compelled to find a way through. The blonde clearly had some kind of problems that were preventing her from letting Hermione get too close. Problems that were hurting her.
Hermione desperately wanted to help.
There was a soft clink of ceramics on the kitchen counter. Hermione turned to see Fleur setting down a cup of black coffee.
Though Fleur looked flawless as always, Hermione could see a tenseness in her face. She was still troubled.
"I'm sorry about last night," Fleur said quietly, her voice a little hoarse.
Hermione wondered if she had been crying.
Hermione opened her mouth, before shutting it again. What on Earth was the right thing to say? She felt ridiculously like Ronald, forever on the verge of putting her foot in her mouth.
"I know today is going to be stressful," Hermione said finally, "With the immigration interviews. So, we should focus on being prepared for those as much as possible. But I want to revisit things with you after that. I can tell we still have some work to do with building trust between us… We can deal with all that later."
A myriad of expressions flitted across Fleur's delicate features: concern, relief, anxiety… Before finally settling on a perfectly curated expression of neutrality.
"Okay," Fleur replied simply.
Hermione sat in a cool, steel chair, in front of a shiny steel table.
She should be uncomfortable, but after the sticky heat of the summer outside, the cold and rigid chair was a soothing relief.
What was bothering her was that she was stuck in this small room deep in the bowels of the Ministry with an Umbridge instead of sorting things out with her troubled wife. Things weren't right between them, and these interviews couldn't come at a worse time.
Fleur and Hermione had had very little time to finish preparing after breakfast before they had had to make their way to the Ministry.
It was hard to believe it was the middle of the day.
The small meeting room was windowless and lit by unbearably bright magical orbs around the walls. Hermione blinked against the lighting, trying to prevent an incoming headache by sheer force of will alone.
Umbridge tapped her long and garish purple nails against the table, creating an obnoxious tinny noise that bounced back at them from the heavy stone walls surrounding them.
Hermione rubbed the bridge of her nose.
"Is it really necessary to have security here for this?" Hermione asked drily, breaking the silence. She nodded at a burly wizard, standing tall next to the sole door in the room, hands clasped in front of himself and a short, thick wand brandished in a visible holster.
Umbridge's face contorted into an ugly, twisted half-smile, half-grimace.
"Given certain… incidents… that befell my beloved sister," Umbridge said in a sickly tone, her small eyes flashing dangerously at Hermione from across the table, "And the fact that this application involves a dangerous creature, I put in an application for heightened procedure with the Ministry."
Hermione folded her arms across her chest.
She was dying to make an acidic comment about the MInistry's (and the Umbridge siblings') treatment of those with creature blood, but Hermione didn't take the bait. Hermione had gathered enough warning from Umbridge's face when mentioning her sister.
"Nothing to add?" Umbridge prompted, seeming a little disappointed. She pulled out a large, overly fluffy lavender feather and a clipboard, setting them in front of her on the cold table.
"Let's just get this over and done with," Hermione replied gruffly.
Umbridge hummed tunelessly, flipping to a page on her clipboard.
"Very well," Umbridge said, her voice dripping with syrupy sweetness. It was sickening. "First up, what is your wife's full name?"
"Fleur Isabelle Delacour," Hermione replied quickly.
The questions came in quick succession. Hermione enjoyed it in a strange way. It was a callback to school time despite the chaos of the world around them.
Hermione shot back an answer in rapid fire to every question. Fleur's date of birth, place of birth, where she grew up, the schools she attended, names of her family members.
Simple and straight forward facts that Hermione had easily memorised.
It was almost calming going through the exercise of a test. Hermione's shoulders loosened and she grew more confident.
Umbridge flipped a page on her clipboard violently.
"Well," Umbridge smiled, looking up at Hermione, "That was a fine introduction, wasn't it? Now let's get into the real part of the interview."
Hermione didn't let her expression change.
She stared at the woman across the table from her, knowing that just like her sister, Umbridge was trying to mentally break her.
Umbridge's hair was as ludicrous as usual, pouffed and permed into a tightly curled nest atop her squarish head. A small purple bow perched on top of her hair, a cherry on top of the sickly sundae. Umbridge's features were deceptively soft, cloaked in wrinkles and motherly jowls. But her small eyes were cold and cruel, drilling sharply into Hermione.
Hermione stretched, goading the woman with an act of indifference. She reached her tanned arms in front of her, leaning back until her back clicked satisfyingly.
"Well, come on, then," Hermione replied with a yawn, "I'd rather not spend my entire summer in a dingy government interview room."
Umbridge scowled for a split second, before smiling again broadly.
"So, how old were you when you met Fleur?" Umbridge asked, looking up from her clipboard.
"Fifteen," Hermione asked. She was suspicious.
"Are you sure?" Umbridge pressed.
Hermione furrowed her brow, but refused to be rattled.
"Very," Hermione shot back, "My birthday is very soon after the start of the school year."
"Hmmph,"
Umbridge scribbled wildly.
"How did you realise you were interested in her in that way?" Umbridge continued.
Hermione twitched at the tone in Umbridge's voice when she said "that way," as if Fleur and Hermione together was something unnatural and wrong.
Undeterred, Hermione set to replying.
"She drew my attention," Hermione explained, "She was infuriating."
Umbridge quirked an eyebrow in interest, momentarily pausing in her writing.
Hermione smiled.
"You know how much time I spend reading?" Hermione asked the terrible woman, "I read at breakfast, I read when I wake up and when I fall asleep. It once took me a full day to notice Ronald had a black eye from scrapping with Slytherins because I get so easily distracted by study and reading."
"And?" Umbridge prompted, her dull eyes showing she was failing to follow the bright witch.
"And yet I noticed Fleur the second she walked into Hogwarts," Hermione replied, "It drove me crazy. No matter what I was doing, how focussed I was, I would always be distracted by her presence. I was convinced it was because I disliked her, hated her even. I complained constantly about her."
Umbridge flipped to another page in her clipboard.
"Yes, we have record of that from talking to some of your prior classmates and professors." Umbridge chimed in irritatingly.
"Well," Hermione interrupted tersely, "It irritated me how full of herself she seemed. You know how people look when they stand in front of a window in the afternoon sun? All radiant and angelic? She looked like that all of the time. She looked like that in the depths of the most miserable Scottish winter day."
"Veela blood," Umbridge practically hissed.
"Not just that," Hermione corrected sternly, "The way she holds herself, the way her face can hide all of her thoughts but her eyes are so telling… She's fascinating and magnetic, even if she tries her hardest to keep everyone at a distance. Every part of me was determined to dislike her… But just as I couldn't stop myself from being distracted by her, I couldn't stop myself from being attracted to her."
Umbridge looked openly disgusted at this point, scribbling wildly on her clipboard.
"Right, so— you realised you were attracted to her because you disliked her," Umbridge replied waspishly.
"That isn't quite how I would put—"
"When did you find out that Fleur was interested in you back?" Umbridge shot at Hermione.
At this question, Hermione got a bad taste in her mouth. Instead of simply tailoring her real experiences with the benefit of retrospect, for this question, she had to rely on McGonagall's ridiculous fake letters.
Hermione had read all the letters Fleur had in her possession from McGonagall, certain that the Ministry would request them at some point or another. It had churned her stomach, reading some of the more lewd and romantic letters, thinking of her matronly Head of House penning these in the name of Hermione and Fleur.
Hermione tried to keep the distaste off her face.
"During the Second Task, Harry— well, Harry was a bit of an idiot, really. But he was very sweet, rescued Fleur's sister, and she was very grateful. She seemed to think that Ron and I had been involved too, somehow. Anyway… She kissed each of us, Harry first, then Ron, then me. When she kissed me, she kissed me so close to my lips… Too close to be an accident… And when she drew back, she lingered."
A pleasant shiver ran down Hermione's spine picturing the scenario. Hermione blushed.
"Ahuh," Umbridge replied flatly, "So, then—"
"I was the one who asked her out," Hermione interrupted, parroting the events in McGonagalls fabricated letters.
Umbridge looked sour at being interrupted.
"I was going to ask, then how did nobody in the school body seem to know that you two were seeing each other?" Umbridge said, her tone hardening, "Why did you attend the Yule Ball with Viktor Krum? Why did Fleur attend with Roger Davies? Why did Roger Davies report—" Umbridge paused to leaf through her clipboard "making out with Fleur in the courtyard during the ball?"
Hermione glared at the squat woman in front of her. She was equal parts annoyed at Umbridge trying to pull a "gotcha" moment and at the mention of Roger Davies.
Hermione knew that it was years ago now, that she hadn't even really been involved with Fleur back then. Yet, part of her felt enraged at the news of Roger Davies kissing Fleur.
"Well," Hermione said slowly, trying to keep her temper in check, "I'm sure you saw the Daily Prophet, Witch Weekly and the likes during that time… Everyone's names were being dragged through the mud. On top of that, we were both figuring out our sexualities. We didn't want people to know and have it all twisted and gossiped about. Bringing other people to the ball was part of that. It backfired, we had an awful argument, and Fleur kissed Roger Davies to let off steam after we briefly broke up. We were very on and off again due to how difficult that year was."
"Mhmm, sure," Umbridge replied, simply swiping her quill once across her clipboard.
Hermione held back from glaring at the dreadful woman.
"Fleur was linked to Bill Weasley recently, was she not?" Umbridge said lightly. Her tone was suspiciously airy, foreshadowing an incoming attack.
"A mistake," Hermione replied quickly. She was less sure on how to engage on this topic. "He pressured her into something more serious than she wanted. She was trying to see if she could make it work with the traditional 'husband, wife, 2.5 kids, white picket fence' situation."
Umbridge looked unconvinced.
"People seemed to think she was engaged to him," Umbridge noted, "Some were surprised at news she married you at the last moment instead."
"He wished they were engaged," Hermione said bitterly, her temper momentarily flaring. She paused suddenly, taking a moment to gather her thoughts.
Umbridge observed her carefully. She seemed disappointed when Hermione ceased talking on the subject.
"So, your friend Harry gets along with Fleur too?" Umbridge queried innocently.
Too innocently.
Hermione hadn't prepared for this line of questioning.
"Yes," Hermione answered cautiously.
Umbridge rapped her fingernails on the cold steel of the table again, unnerving Hermione.
"Is it coincidence that Fleur Delacour marries you, a close friend of Harry Potter, right around the time that Harry Potter turns seventeen, is no longer subject to The Trace, and disappears from his aunt and uncle's residence?" Umbridge questioned.
Hermione swallowed, taking a moment to think.
So, Umbridge knew what they were doing, at least at a high level. She knew Fleur was tangled up with Harry and the plans to counter Voldemort.
But knowing was not the same as proving.
"Disappeared?" Hermione replied, "That is a bit dramatic. He simply reached the age of maturity and was ready to move out on his own. He attended my wedding in person mere days later. In fact, several of your Ministry colleagues would have seen him there."
"Where is Harry Potter now?" Umbridge demanded.
Hermione smirked. Umbridge had lost her upper hand by losing her patience.
"I think that is a little irrelevant to the matter of my relationship with Fleur," Hermione replied imperiously, "Now, if you have no further questions, I'd like to get out of here and spend some time with my wife."
Umbridge frowned, practically ripping her clipboard in her efforts to draw the interview back in.
"No?" Hermione queried, arching an eyebrow, "Well, in that case, I will see you around."
Hermione got up and walked calmly to the door, enjoying the growing fury of rustling papers behind her. The security guard eyed her suspiciously, but did nothing to stop her.
As Hermione headed out the door and back to her freedom, Umbridge called after her.
"This won't be the last of my assessment!"