A/N: This fic was co-written with ChokolateFever. The Triwizard Tournament is set during Hermione's sixth year.

lipeviez here, and I just wanted to say I had a blast writing this with ChokolateFever. She is awesome and so, so talented. Also, we're dedicating this to our thirsty fleurmione server members as a cap to an amazing first fleurmione week.

Day 7: Free

Hermione Granger did not suffer fools. Or more accurately, she did not want to suffer fools and she hated that she did. Her two best friends, Harry and Ron, were some of the biggest. Always getting into trouble, always running into danger instead of away from it, finding their heads turned by pretty girls when they should have been focused on their schoolwork. She thought that they would've grown out of it given that the three of them were in sixth year now but she was wrong. They were idiots, plain and simple. But they were her idiots.

Not that she'd had much experience with girls. Or any for that matter. She'd only realized she liked girls last summer, after all. Hermione resisted the wince at the memory of the girl Claire whom she met in France during a family holiday there. It was only a few days of meetings for coffee and shopping while her parents did their own sightseeing, but Claire was so fun and interesting, Hermione tried to hang out with her as much as she could. But the night before Claire's flight back to America, she'd asked Hermione to sneak out with her after dinner to catch a late showing of a film at the local theater and they could walk the city streets afterwards, taking in the nightlife. It seemed like too much trouble just to see a movie and she told her so. Claire seemed hurt and Hermione hadn't understood why at the time. They said their goodbyes and didn't keep in touch. It was later in the summer as she recounted the tale to Ginny that her young friend pointed out all the things Claire had done to flirt with her. The witty banter, the touches, the smiles, her attempt at a final date. And as they were pointed out, Hermione realized she had liked all those things, too. That the flutter in her chest with Claire had been attraction and she'd been oblivious the whole time. Hermione wished she had known Claire liked her. She wished she had done something about it.

The experience taught her two things. One, she liked girls. And two, she should pay more attention to these things and not lose her head.

So yes, now she noticed pretty girls just like Harry and Ron did. She just didn't want them to turn her brain into mush. What was the point of romance if one couldn't function properly while experiencing it?

Still, those Beauxbatons girls were quite beautiful. When she looked at them, whispers entered her ear saying it would be okay to be mush for a little while. Their uniforms were stylish but so impractical for the weather here. Those hats, almost silly. Those gloves, were they even warm? They didn't look warm. How warm would they feel if she touched one?

Fighting a blush, Hermione sighed at the blank piece of parchment in front of her, her hand loosely holding a quill that had been ready for use for an unknown length of time.

What was that again about functioning?

She sighed. Hermione lost track of time again. Her thoughts often wandered to the female students from Beauxbatons. Well, it was just the one. The one who stuck up her nose at everything; the one who turned Ron into a purple, gurgling mess.

Fleur Delacour.

So maybe she had been letting her head be turned by a pretty girl more than she let on.

She often caught the blonde girl looking at her from across the Great Hall during mealtimes. Fleur would also glance at her as they passed in the halls, or out in the courtyard. In fact, it happened so often, they managed to make a schedule out of it. Two times in the halls before lunch, one time in the main courtyard in the afternoon, and every few days out by the Black Lake. She was never sure if the girl knew how much she looked forward to these planned glances. (Unplanned. She meant to think 'unplanned'.)

Hermione also didn't know if Fleur knew how she looked for her when she wasn't there.

Outside was her preferred place to see her. Hermione loved rolling her eyes at every shiver she'd see run through Fleur and her friends. They would either clench blue-gloved hands into fists at their sides or blow their hot breath into them instead. Didn't they know how to cast a warming charm? Should she show them? Maybe use one of their gloves as an example? Would Fleur let her?

Blinking, she looked down again at the blank piece of parchment. She'd lost track of time again.

Setting down the quill, Hermione stared at the open books laid out in front of her, the piles of books she'd pulled out of the shelves, and the unwritten essay she was supposed to do for Potions. She pushed back from the table and looked around.

The library was busy and she frowned as she wondered if any Beauxbatons students had come and gone while she was lost in thought, if she'd missed Fleur. She checked a nearby clock and quickly packed up. It was time to go sit in a courtyard to read. Today's plan was to choose a more secluded spot, an out of the way courtyard that only had one way in and out.

Delacour would have to go out of her way to get to this courtyard. And she would have no good reason to be there.

What would it mean if she did?

Hermione blushed. She soon found a place to settle with her things. She sat down with her opened book and waited. Her pulse quickened when she heard the familiar clicking of low-heeled shoes. More than one set. Fleur wasn't alone.

Oh well.

She still smiled triumphantly into her book as the group of French girls walked by nonchalantly. When she looked up, her heart stopped.

Fleur was holding the hand of another girl as they walked by. Hermione supposed that was one way to keep hands warm. But she still scowled at the way they were so easily clasped. She imagined her own being held by the blonde's, feeling the silky blue material of the glove.

What would it feel like in her hand?

What would it feel like pressed against her cheek?

Looking up, she saw the victorious glint in Fleur's eyes as they passed.

So it was like that, was it? Hermione thought to herself with a smirk. She counted in her head, waiting for the clacking shoes to stop when they figured out there was no exit. The courtyard fell silent and Hermione had to bite the inside of her cheek hard to keep from laughing. Then she heard harsh whispers as Fleur consulted with her friends. The clicking heels began again as they headed back the way they came.

Glancing up, Hermione expected to see the backsides of blue uniforms walking away and was startled to see Fleur standing still, not fifteen feet away, and watching her. Begrudged respect swirled in blue eyes and the brunette bit her lip, not quite hiding the smirk trying to break free. Hermione nodded, acknowledging her small victory and Fleur's acceptance of it, but instead of turning to follow her friends, Fleur took one step closer.

The Gryffindor was at a loss for words. She had laid this trap, but did not plan far enough ahead. Her daydreaming had ended here: Fleur would follow, and then, and then? The smirk that fell from her face moments ago seemed to fly away and manifest on Fleur's. The Beauxbatons student stood just a short distance away, one arm akimbo, and gaze intent on the brunette.

The woman advanced again. One step. Two. Onward. Each click and clack seemed to command the rhythm of Hermione's heartbeat, until Fleur was standing directly in front of her. So close that if she wanted to, the blonde could reach out with a gloved hand and touch her, or Hermione could reach out herself.

Eyes were locked: Hermione looking up at Fleur; Fleur looking down at Hermione.

This was much more than the sum of all their passing glances.

A gentle breeze danced around them. Hermione found her breath.

"So–"

"Well–"

"Hermione!" The two women looked to the entrance of the courtyard, sights landing on a panting and red-faced Ronald Weasley.

"Oh." He straightened up when he noticed Fleur was also in the courtyard. An awkward and goofy grin began to make its way onto his face, that is until he noticed the proximity of the two witches.

"What's going on here?" he asked as he began to march over to them. His gaze flickered only momentarily on the blonde. Hermione stood up, prepared for a confrontation. She knew the signs. She decided to try to head it off before it began.

"Nothing! Nothing is going on, Ron. What are you doing here? What do you need?"

"What am I doing here? Looking for you. You stood me up! We were supposed to meet in the library and you were going to help me with my potions essay. Instead you're here with… her." Ron gestured toward the Beauxbatons champion with a quick jerk of his head.

"Pardon?" Piercing blue eyes honed in on the redhead. Hermione did not want the blonde to get dragged into this nonsense. She stepped forward, subtly placing herself between Fleur and Ron.

"Ronald Weasley. We made no such plans! You wanted to see me so that you could copy my essay. I told you I'm not allowing that anymore." Her irritation quickly gave way to nervousness that she did her best to conceal with arms folded firmly in front of her chest. She could feel Fleur's presence edge closer behind her. Hermione was suddenly very hot. Keeping her eyes trained on Ron, she willed him to drop it and leave the two of them alone again. If she just turned around she would be close enough to… she wasn't sure what she would be brave enough to do then, but they would be very close.

"That's not right! Leaving your best mate out to dry just so you can, what? Make eyes at a pretty girl? I've seen the way you look at her, that's right. It's not natural, Hermione. Two witches? She's got thrall! You know what she is, don't you?"

Whispers and murmurs were heard at the entrance of the courtyard. A growing body of students who had noticed the commotion had stopped to take in the scene. Black robes and blue robes clamored to see what exactly was going on.

Hermione was absolutely mortified. Ron was being an insensitive and insolent prick. How dare he try to shame her about looking at other witches? And try to out her in front of others? She knew it was a mistake to tell him and Harry that she found the blonde objectively attractive. And how dare he insult Fleur and attack her character that way? She felt the Beauxbatons champion step closer.

"I believe it is time zat you see yourself out, hm? Per'aps get started on zat potions essay?"

The woman had class, Hermione had to give her that. She was even-toned and did not rise to the insults that Ron was giving. She stood poised and had a powerful presence. Hermione had half a mind to try to get a rise out of Fleur herself if they ever got the chance to be alone again; become the subject of her gaze and instruction. She watched and hid her satisfaction as Ron became increasingly red in the face. He was almost turning purple as he tried to come up with something to say to Fleur, but he just couldn't manage anything. For a moment the brunette felt bad for him, but that ended quickly.

"Hermione, she's using you! Quit making a fool of yourself and consorting with the enemy. Come with me!" Ron took a step back but held out his hand to her.

"Using me? Are you dense? What could she possibly be using me for?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"For what? So she can get ahead in the tournament! For your brain, what else? You think she's actually interested? She's Veela, she wants a man, not some… some… bushy haired, know-it-all, lesbian!"

A silence fell over the courtyard. Hermione's blood ran cold. He had insinuated it before, but now had truly outed her -at least enough for strong speculation and gossip- to the student body and to Fleur Delacour herself. Ron seemed compelled to fill the quiet.

"And you're better than that, smarter than that, Hermione. You can't really want a witch over... over…"

Hermione was seething with rage and flushed with embarrassment. She felt a firm and reassuring grasp on her shoulder. Tense muscles relaxed. She turned her head to look at Fleur. Fleur, with her face as passive and unreadable as ever, positioned herself next to Hermione and in front of Ron. She let go of Hermione's shoulder and the Gryffindor immediately missed the contact.

Fleur Delacour kept her eyes fixed on Ronald Weasley as one hand steadily reached toward the opposite to begin to remove one Beauxbatons-blue, satin glove. Hermione's eyes tracked each intentional movement, as one glove-covered, dexterous hand gently tugged the other glove at the tip of each finger. As she pulled the glove smoothly to remove it, Hermione's gaze drifted along with it as she took in the expanse of fair skin. The glove was off. Then Fleur took Hermione further off guard by firmly pressing the blue cloth into the bookworm's hands. It was soft. It was warm. It was Fleur's.

"Hold this for me, chérie," was all the blonde said as her eyes remained fixed on the purpling boy before her.

A delicate, uncovered right hand elegantly reached for the still-covered left, and in one swift and effortless movement, slid the remaining glove off. The sound was tantalizing. Hermione swallowed, then reached out, palm up, ready to receive the article, but Fleur did not hand it over. Instead she whipped it into the newly revealed hand, then lifted and bobbed it up and down a few times, as if weighing down to evaluate it, and seemed to briefly ponder her next course of action. Fleur's head snapped back up to the redhead.

"Ronald Weasley, oui?" the French witch asked. Ron nodded stiffly.

Before Hermione knew what was happening, Fleur advanced one step, raised the blue glove, and then snapped it forward with force, effectively slapping Ron across the face with a crisp and resounding 'thwack.' Gasps erupted from the crowd.

"Ronald Weasley of 'Ogwarts," the Beauxbatons champion began with a confident and commanding voice. "For your despicable treatment of 'Ermione Granger, and in 'er honor, I challenge you to a duel. Do you accept?"

Hermione was flabbergasted. She clutched the gifted glove to her chest. She should really intervene, she thought to herself, but found no words coming from her lips; no effort to move coming from her feet. Fleur did not await a response from the dumbstruck boy. She turned on the spot, walked twenty paces away, about-faced, and bowed.

Hermione's eyes snapped back to Ron only when she heard something clatter to the ground. His wand. Snickers were heard throughout the audience of students and Hermione tried not to roll her eyes at his clumsy efforts. Ron frantically dove to grab his wand only to accidentally kick it farther away. When he finally did manage to get a hold of it, he grasped it firmly between two shaking hands and turned to take in the challenging Veela.

The blonde's face was void of any emotion. Her only acknowledgement of Ron's graceless fumbling was a quirked eyebrow. Where he stood hunched and uncertain, Fleur stood tall and unflinching. Her athletic legs were steady, with one foot in front of the other, as if ready to prance. With glove in one hand at her hip, she drew her wand arm out long and extended to her side. If anyone had thought to ask Hermione, she would have said that Fleur looked absolutely magnificent. She couldn't look away, couldn't even be bothered to check on her redheaded friend when fumbling hands turned into choking and garbled noises as he tried to sputter out a spell. Instead she studied Fleur as she began a series of fluid movements of attack.

If she had turned away for even just a moment she would have missed the whole performance. Fleur's wand arm deftly dropped, swooped, arched overhead and then shot forward as she spun with agile steps. A wordless stunner struck Ron right in the gut, doubling him over and causing him to drop to his hands and knees, and then face-first into the dirt. His impotent wand jounced and rolled away. The Veela lowered her wand and straightened. The clacking of her heels against stone echoed through the silent courtyard as she strode forward to the defeated boy. He lamely looked up at her when she stopped in front of him, and her previously stoic features flashed her first show of emotions since she issued the challenge. It was gone as quick as it came, but Hermione saw it. Disgust. Perhaps contempt.

Whispers and echoes of chuckling laughter gradually built until Ron, his face beet red, scrambled to his wand and then ran away, pushing through the students watching him. They soon followed. All except Fleur and Hermione.

The Veela didn't look at her at first, instead holstering her wand and looking at the ground. Her chest rose and fell with deep breaths, no doubt trying to calm herself from the rush of adrenaline. Hermione's heart was still pounding. The blonde could've hurt him, really hurt him, but she maintained control and ended it quickly. It was an elegant display. Powerful yet restrained. In that moment she knew why the Goblet had chosen her.

Fleur Delacour was without a doubt the most stunning witch she'd ever seen.

Then blue eyes met hers and Hermione found her heart racing even faster. She could feel the tension growing between them and she wanted to laugh it off. To thank Fleur for defending her and then flee the courtyard as fast as she could. But those eyes, the way Fleur was still gripping her glove in one hand so tightly she could see her knuckles whitening, she could tell they weren't done yet.

Hermione's eyes darted down to the glove Fleur had given her to hold. The glove she had long wanted to feel. It wasn't enough. This need that had been growing within her ever since she saw Fleur demanded more.

She turned and grabbed her bag, closed her eyes briefly and took a deep breath, then locked her eyes on Fleur again as she walked towards her. Blue eyes flickered, searching her face, and Hermione gave a shy smile as she realized that she'd surprised the blonde. This increased her confidence. Tightening her grip on the glove in her hand, she reached out with the other and held her hand out expectantly. Amused, Fleur raised an eyebrow and handed the other glove over. Hermione bounced slightly in nervous excitement. She hoped she knew what she was doing. There was only one way to find out.

Striding quickly towards the way out of the courtyard, she turned slightly and asked, "Are you coming?"

Hermione hurried out, hearing the clicking heels behind her. Losing the Veela wasn't the plan but she wanted a bit of a head start, so she took advantage of her familiarity with the castle, taking sharp turns and dodging students through different corridors, running up a few staircases. The heels behind her never lost their stride and her excitement was reaching a fever point. There was a particular hidden passageway close to Gryffindor tower that she wanted to get to and they were nearly there. One more turn and she would be out of sight for a few seconds, which was all the time she needed to reach the tapestry and rush inside the passageway.

She dropped her bag and cast a couple of charms: her bluebell charm in a jar she always carried around with her that gave some light to the dark passage, and another which she hoped the blonde would enjoy. Then she listened and waited.

The clicking heels slowed but they were getting closer. Hermione's already panting breath quickened even more. Surely Fleur would hear her but being found was the whole point so she didn't care. The footfalls stopped but nothing happened. She had expected a voice to call out for her or some sort of magic to find her. She frowned. Had Fleur given up?

Hermione silently moved close to the tapestry, held her breath, and strained her ears. There was no sound. Just as she was about to exhale in disappointment, the tapestry pulled back and Fleur stepped in, a bright smile on her face. Fleur cast a silencing charm and Hermione stepped away from her and backed up against the wall to make room. She smiled when Fleur followed to stand right in front of her.

"Were you 'iding from me, chérie?"

"Not at all. You have quite the knack of finding me wherever I am. I was only waiting," the Gryffindor quipped.

Fleur quirked an eyebrow and cocked her head.

"Like you were earlier in zat courtyard. Zat was a clever trap you laid."

"I'm glad you think so," Hermione quickly replied, glad that her mind was still with her so far.

Fleur raised an arm and placed her hand against the wall on one side of Hermione's head.

"Is zis also a trap?" the blonde whispered.

Her heart stuttered when she saw Fleur's eyes glance at her lips before darting back up for eye contact. She was so beautiful. The glow from the blue flame softened her somehow and created enticing shadows across her face. Hermione wanted to trace them with her fingers.

"I wanted to thank you for what you did, for not hurting him. And I thought this would be a better place for us to be alone."

"Oh? And why is zat?" Fleur asked, ignoring her reference to the duel.

Hermione blinked rapidly, words trapped in her throat. She thought this part would be easy. Fleur would make a move and she would eagerly acquiesce for her first kiss and that would be that. She didn't know how to do the move-making. Sidestepping the opening Fleur left for her, she jumped to her gift and raised up the gloves that were still in her hand. Fleur looked at them, perplexed.

"Here. Put them on."

The blonde opened her mouth to speak but she seemed to change her mind. Shrugging, she took the gloves. Hermione tried to look away but she was fascinated with the way Fleur slowly pulled each one on. She got lost in the movement and when she looked back into blue eyes, they were dancing in the firelight, as if the girl had discovered something revealing. Hermione hoped it was a good thing.

"Well?" Hermione asked shyly.

"It is a warming charm. I use one all ze time."

"But do you use one that adjusts the heat based on the outer temperature that the fabric feels?"

Fleur chuckled, impressed. "Again, so clever. And 'ow shall I test it, mademoiselle?"

"Hermione Granger."

"Oh yes, I know. And je m'appelle Fleur Delacour. Now zat introductions are done, let's test ze effectiveness of zis charm of yours."

The Veela placed both gloved hands on the wall on either side of Hermione's head and inched closer.

"C'est merveilleux. Zey are warmer against ze cold stone."

Hermione's heart hammered in her chest with the close proximity to Fleur. The soft breath on her face made her whole body heat up. Again, Fleur was waiting for her to make the next move, to lead them forward or make a face-saving escape. And she could end it right here so easily. Step out from behind the tapestry and wish Fleur well on the rest of the tournament. But that wasn't what she really wanted. That wasn't why she led Fleur here. Finding her courage at last, she spoke again.

"Now… touch my cheek."

Fleur smiled coyly and brought her right hand down, tracing a finger along Hermione's cheek. Hermione felt the smooth satin, cool on her face, travel down her neck next. She gasped at the sensation, feeling the temperature of the glove change as it moved back up to her cheek, caressing her with the palm of the hand.

"Do you like it?" Hermione whispered, feeling warm and a bit dizzy. "I can teach you the spell."

"Oui, I would like zat," Fleur replied distractedly. "Where else, 'Ermione?" The Veela inched her body even closer to Hermione's until their chests were touching. Both were breathing heavily now.

"Touch my lips," murmured Hermione under her breath, tilting her face upwards.

Fleur moved her hand until her index finger ran across her lower lip, tugging it down slightly. Hermione had the urge to take those gloved fingers into her mouth and it looked as if Fleur read her mind. Blue eyes closed tightly as she pulled her hand away. Hermione could see how much strain the blonde was under, how she was trying to hold herself back. While she appreciated the effort, she was done with restraint.

Hermione pressed forward and kissed her. Soft lips parted in surprise and then the next thing she knew her arms were wrapped around Fleur's back as the girl pressed her harder against the wall.

The kiss was tentative at first and then Hermione earned a gasp from the blonde when she slid her tongue under her top lip. Fleur deepened the kiss and hands started to roam. Hermione loved the silky feel of Fleur's uniform. She could feel every curve of her and it still wasn't enough. She wanted Fleur closer. Her hands moved lower and when they reached the small of her back, she hesitated, unsure whether her escalation would be welcomed, not used to initiating and taking what she wanted. But when Fleur took Hermione's lower lip in between her teeth, hesitance was replaced by instinct and she grabbed her ass, pulling her towards her until Fleur's thigh slid between her legs.

"Fleur!" she cried out and threw her head back at the sensation. Hermione immediately felt Fleur nibble her way down her neck. Hands pulled and removed her outer robes, and she started fumbling with the Veela's uniform jacket, needing to reach more skin. It was crazy. Doing this went far beyond what she'd imagined when she decided to lure Fleur here. But right now, with the girl's hands and mouth on her, she didn't want to stop.

"'Ermione," breathed Fleur, pressing in even tighter and panting against her neck in between wet kisses. "Tu mérites plus que ce tunnel sombre. Tu mérites tellement plus."

"What do you mean?" Hermione panted. She knew a bit of French and understood what the other girl said. This was a dark tunnel, and a quick tumble, with students and teachers just a few feet away, wasn't what she'd imagined for her first time, but she didn't know where else they could go.

"Come to ze carriage tonight at midnight and I'll show you," answered Fleur, pulling back to look at Hermione.

"Sneak out?" Hermione squeaked and she immediately blushed at the sound.

Fleur smiled and brought a hand up to Hermione's neck and she could feel a gloved finger drawing small circles just under her ear. The blonde looked at it for a while before looking back into her eyes.

"Somezing tells me you are quite adventurous, 'Ermione Granger. Sneaking out seems so small compared to ze adventures you and I could 'ave."

Her throat went dry as she searched for a witty reply but then Fleur sighed, pressing her forehead against Hermione's.

"I understand if you don't want to. We can move at any pace you want, do what ozer romances do. But zis has been building for a while, oui? You feel it, I feel it, and sometimes you just know. Sometimes ze inevitable needs to 'appen before everyzing else."

Hermione would have to borrow Harry's invisibility cloak and she would have to slip out of the castle undetected. Her mind raced through all the plans she would need to make and she hadn't even made up her mind yet on whether or not she would do it.

She licked her lips and didn't know what to say. Fleur stepped back and began straightening her clothes.

"C'est bien. I will not pressure you. But I will 'ide a key just in case. It will be attached to a white feazer that I will 'ang on ze rear wheel of ze carriage and disillusion. A simple revelio will reveal it to you."

"If I come, what do I do once inside?"

Fleur smirked knowingly and began to remove one of her gloves. She took Hermione's hands in hers and gently closed the brunette's fingers around the glove. She then leaned in for another quick kiss which Hermione melted against. When she pulled away, Hermione still had the removed glove in her hand.

"Come and find out. Midnight."

Then the Veela bounded out past the tapestry and was gone.