Author note: Wow, three years and some months later, and here we are! The two of us have been tooling around with this chapter ever since we posted the last one, and we never intended to take so long, but sometimes that's just how things go.

Hope you enjoy the epilogue we cooked up. There's a bit of spiciness, but that shouldn't surprise anyone lol

Fleur walked into the restaurant and checked in her coat, keeping her handbag with her as she scanned the décor and surroundings. The hostess welcomed her and asked for the name of her party. She gave it and then was guided to a table where her date, Richard, was waiting.

He stood up and they exchanged kisses before seating themselves.

"You look beautiful as always, Fleur," he said charmingly, then poured her a glass of red wine.

She smiled demurely, knowing just how good she looked in her black cocktail dress with the low neckline. Fleur picked up her glass, taking her time to see more of this new magical restaurant Richard just had to take her to. It had only recently opened and was hidden away close to the British Ministry of Magic. Fleur came back to London for a couple of weeks every several months to conduct Delacour clan business and to occasionally consult on cases at Gringotts, which was where she had met Richard.

Fleur eyed him as he carried on about work, puffing himself up as he always did. He was undoubtedly handsome with his blond hair and steel grey eyes, and he was also quite boring and so full of himself he never really required much of her attention. But while she'd enjoyed the casual nature of their encounters over the last year, the Veela got the feeling he was angling for more which meant she would need to end it soon. Hiding a sigh with a long sip of her wine, Fleur decided 'soon' would actually be this trip. Maybe even tonight.

It would be kinder to do it before they ordered their food, but just as she opened her mouth, a woman walked by who caught her attention. The woman was in a tight red dress and had soft brown curls, the familiarity of which tightened her throat. The brunette went to a table not far away, maybe five tables between them, and greeted an attractive woman with a kiss on the cheek before moving around the table towards an empty chair. She knew who it was before she saw her face. The woman sat and smiled brightly at her companion, and Fleur's heart stopped at the sight of her ex-girlfriend.

Hermione Granger to be exact.

She was well-practiced in the art of hiding her reactions so she slowly turned back to Richard, pretending to listen to what he was saying. Fleur even managed to give her order to the waiter who had arrived. Leaving would be best but a rare impulse towards self-inflicted torture kept her in her seat. The task of breaking things off with Richard was pushed to the back of her mind.

After the waiter walked away, Fleur glanced to her left. She had a full view of Hermione. All the brunette would have to do was look past the woman in front of her and she would be seen. Given the smiles and attention her ex was giving her date, an auburn-haired woman who Fleur immediately disliked, it appeared she hadn't noticed her.

This dampened Fleur's mood and she glanced back at Richard before her eyes glazed over, getting lost in memories as he spoke.

Hermione had been the great love of her life. When they met at Hogwarts, Fleur felt an instant connection. 'Love at first sight' was not a concept she'd believed in before that year, but that's what it had been for her. There was not a doubt in her mind that they belonged together. And while her love was steadfast and true, she took her time before showing her hand. Fleur asked about her, wanting to know as much as possible. She arranged to coincidentally pass by her in the halls and around the school. It wasn't long after she'd been chosen as the Beauxbatons champion that she could see her interest in the bookworm was reciprocated. Hermione was as intelligent as she was beautiful and Fleur's patience had just about worn out when she found herself caught in a trap of the younger witch's making.

So enchanted by her, and so sure of her choice, Fleur initiated the formal courtship ritual with her feather on the key to the carriage without a second thought. They shared an incredible first night together, and in the morning she shyly explained the meaning of the feather; that it was not itself a proposal but a sign of intent. If all went well during the courtship, a betrothal was the intended next step. Hermione had been both overwhelmed and accepting. That night started a relationship that lasted for nearly two years.

Fleur sighed at the memory.

Daring another glance, she saw brown eyes staring at her and her breath hitched at their intensity. Instead of looking away when their eyes met, Hermione continued to stare and the emotions that flitted across the brunette's face were too numerous for Fleur to decipher. Those eyes awakened so many memories, so many things she'd locked inside her heart, but she didn't shy away. She found herself welcoming them, feeling a tingle of excitement crawl up her spine. Fleur smiled and her stomach churned at the nod and beaming smile that her ex sent back. The brunette looked very pleased to see her.

Her school friends at the time had thought the brunette would be a distraction from the tournament. Hermione had proved them wrong by becoming a hugely supportive girlfriend, helping her research the tasks as well as helping her keep up with her studies. But more than that, the girl was perfection. So smart and opinionated. Stubborn and argumentative. Fleur, in turn, supported Hermione as she came out as gay to her friends and, due to their public relationship, her school. Adding onto this stressful situation was the scrutiny that came with having the Beauxbatons champion for a girlfriend. They met these challenges together, somehow finding the time for a whirlwind, teenage romance. Fleur couldn't get enough of her. Most of their free time was spent together, exploring each other's minds, hearts, and bodies.

"I say Fleur, aren't you going to eat?" asked Richard.

"Hm?" Fleur answered confusedly before looking at her plate and seeing her untouched food. "Ah, oui, I'm sorry. I'm just a bit tired. It's been a long week and I should probably have an early night."

"Oh," he replied, unable to hide his disappointment. "I thought– you know…"

She sat up straight in her seat, giving her full attention to Richard now that his comment reminded her of her decision to end their arrangement. The blonde hoped he wouldn't cause a scene. She wasn't ready to leave the restaurant, not when she was still unsure what to do about Hermione's presence.

"I think you and I both know this thing between us isn't going anywhere. Let's just enjoy the meal tonight before saying goodbye," she said, trying to give the right balance between regret and finality. She didn't want to start an argument but she also didn't want him to think there was hope.

Richard took a deep breath and flashed a brave smile. "Of course."

He jumped back into whatever it was he was talking about. Fleur bit her lip and turned to look again at Hermione, who had her hand under her chin, appearing as if she was giving her attention to the other woman but her eyes were on Fleur. Hermione's gaze had always left her breathless, just as it did now. It made her skin feel impatient, feeling the ghosts of kisses and touches left long ago, the ones made by burning lips and passionate embraces. What did it matter that she hadn't seen the girl in four years? It could be ten years and those eyes on her would make her feel exactly as she did when she was seventeen years old.

Fleur should be angry. The breakup had been… devastating. Yes, that was a word she could use. She'd earned that word. Those months of crying and heartache told her so.

Where the tournament year had been a dream, she'd even won the damned thing, Hermione's seventh year brought reality crashing in. Fleur threw herself into the relationship, determined to prove long distance would be a minor obstacle. She took a part-time job at Gringotts as a curse-breaker, but being in London didn't mean she saw her girlfriend all that often. There were visits to Hogsmeade but they mostly kept up with each other through letters. So many letters. And in Fleur's eagerness to constantly express her love, anything less than the same from Hermione had only fed her insecurity.

The Veela loved her so completely, she saw nothing but happiness in their future, and she lost sight of Hermione's own plans and feelings about how their relationship was developing. The bookworm tried to explain but Fleur hadn't wanted to hear it: how she loved Fleur but the expectations and plans the blonde kept making for their future were too much, how the rigors of school and the need to have fun with her friends didn't seem important to Fleur, and how she wanted to establish her career before making a more serious commitment.

By the time Hermione graduated and Fleur brought out a ring, the only one surprised Hermione said no was Fleur.

Hermione turning down the proposal was not the end of their relationship, but it was the beginning of the end. The humiliation of that moment brought a wall down around Fleur. She hadn't known how to move on from what she saw as a rejection of her dream for them. They were young and too immature to know how to rebuild and find common ground after such a stumble. Before the summer was over, Hermione wielded the final blow by suggesting a break. Shattered, the blonde responded that it should be permanent. She recalled the pain in the brunette's eyes. Breaking up wasn't what either of them wanted, but Fleur wanted the next step and Hermione didn't. In her mind, there was no way forward from that.

It had taken months of crying and a move back to France for Fleur to finally see Hermione's side of it, acknowledging to herself all of her mistakes and their communication issues. Her pride kept her from reaching out, though. Fleur had heard through her former co-worker Bill Weasley that there was a rumor Hermione started dating some witch who worked with her at the Ministry, and it was another heartbreak. She stayed away and tried to avoid anything that might put her in the brunette's path. And for four years it worked.

How did seeing Hermione feel now? There was a touch of sadness but also a sanguine curiosity. And an effervescent gladness that warmed her inside. She was happy to see her. More than happy. Hermione looked mature, confident, and sexy; everything she knew the young witch would grow to be. If anything, the brunette was even more attractive and it filled Fleur with longing.

Was that what Fleur wanted?

She took a sip of her wine, trying to calm the heart that had made her leap too far too fast the last time she'd tried this with the other witch. The blonde had fallen hopelessly in love at seventeen, making plans, putting everything into a relationship that she should've grown with. She'd understood this during their first year together as they forged their path hand in hand as true partners, but during their second year Fleur floundered and anchored herself to her idea of a happy ending. She became foolishly complacent with the relationship work needed to get there. And it had led to a heartbreak that had been the worst pain of her life.

Time had healed her wounds, had muted the pain and taught her acceptance of where they went wrong, but the echoes of her, and everything they were and could've been, lingered. There was a reason she hadn't had a serious relationship since Hermione, settling for a string of casual lovers. Some had even been good friends and could've been more if she'd let them. In her efforts to avoid doing too much too soon, to avoid falling so quickly only to have the rug pulled out from under her, Fleur held back. Her heart. Her time. Her warmth.

This caution, this fear of loss, had worked as intended. It prevented her from experiencing that same horrible pain, but it also prevented her from experiencing love again with another. The Veela had scoffed whenever it entered her mind that Hermione set a standard that no one else could meet, but seeing her now, maybe it was true. Maybe this was what her heart had been waiting for.

Maybe it was time to set aside caution and explore the possibilities this chance meeting held.

They had four years of being apart under their belts now. Plenty of time to gain some perspective, to try on other people. To grow into themselves and work on their own goals. Fleur's English had even improved to a point where her accent was negligible. Getting to know each other again without all of the teenage angst in the way would be a different experience. They could start on the same page this time.

But she was getting ahead of herself and she would not repeat that mistake again if she could help it.

Fleur took a breath and focused on the present. She thought about initiating contact and what that would be like and how she would feel, taking long glances at Hermione and enjoying the light flush on her face, the slightly pinkened cheeks whenever the brunette had been caught looking at her. When Hermione looked at her date, it was clear she was still distracted. Her behavior implied the date was not a girlfriend.

Girlfriend or not, an important question remained – did Hermione even want to reconnect?

Making a half-hearted attempt to eat her food, Fleur continued to turn towards Hermione, sometimes smirking at her, sometimes receiving a smirk in return, the heat and flirtation in those brown eyes reminding her of those first weeks at Hogwarts where they glanced at each other from a distance. It was during dessert when Fleur made up her mind to discover whether Hermione wanted to take this further than stolen looks.

Fleur slowly reached down into her handbag and withdrew a black leather glove, laying it on her left thigh in Hermione's line of sight. Just as she saw Hermione's eyes dart down to her thigh, Fleur waved a hand and changed the color of the glove to a light Beauxbatons-blue. The sudden coughing and deep blush on Hermione's face and neck made her smile and she turned back to Richard, making polite replies to his comments. It was gratifying to see Hermione's recognition of their 'signal'. During the tournament year at Hogwarts, an unworn glove in sight meant one of them wanted the other as soon as possible and that they should immediately find a spot to take care of that want. Hermione had been an insatiable lover and the risk of getting caught always excited her.

Public sex with the other witch wasn't what Fleur wanted this evening, but she did want an unequivocal way to signal her interest. And if it flustered the other witch, all the better. If Hermione didn't return her interest, the brunette would not approach. No harm, no foul.

But there were no other glances after that initial coughing spell and a crestfallen Fleur put the glove back in her handbag. Richard took care of the bill and then excused himself to use the men's room. Fleur was supposed to meet him by the door. Taking one more look at her ex's table, she saw the auburn-haired woman but no Hermione. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she stood up and made her way to the cloakroom. By the time she reached the attendant, she was feeling better. Fleur was proud of herself for at least trying, and she did not resent Hermione for declining. No one fell apart and life moved on. Retrieving her coat, she was startled by a hand on her back.

"Fleur," a breathy voice said.

Turning around, there stood Hermione. As with their initial locked gaze in the dining area, Fleur drank her in, noticing a few new laugh lines on her face, the eye makeup that the brunette never would have enjoyed putting on as a teenager but now expertly applied. Her brown eyes were lit up with hope and the Veela's heart fluttered in her chest to see it.

"Hermione," Fleur spoke at last with a smile. "It's very good to see you again."

There was an awkward moment where they thought they should lean in for a hug, arms slightly raised, but in the end they let their arms fall to their sides and kept their distance.

"I– yes, it's good to see you, too. Great, actually. Fantastic. I, um, so you're leaving?"

"Yes, my date is a bit disappointed in my wish to head to my hotel alone for an early night." Fleur said it nonchalantly, all the while knowing she was giving Hermione some very pertinent facts about the nature of her date.

"How unfortunate," Hermione answered with a small smile, her eyes shining brightly. "I'm on a blind date myself."

"And how are the prospects there?" asked Fleur, holding her breath, trying not to show how relieved she was at the confirmation the woman in the restaurant wasn't Hermione's girlfriend.

"Not very good, I'm afraid."

"Tragic," responded Fleur jokingly, biting her lip. She took a shaky breath before asking, "But not a completely wasted night, I hope?"

Hermione stepped closer. Her eyes flitted down to Fleur's bag and the Frenchwoman blinked at the still visible blue glove. She cleared her throat and stuffed it further into the bag, trying not to blush at the twinkle in gorgeous brown eyes. The blonde could tell the brunette wanted to say something about the glove and she waited for the tease. She shouldn't have been surprised. She was the one who brought out the glove in the first place knowing full well its meaning for them, what had she expected? Fleur should've thought a bit more about that before making that move. Instead of a tease, what if she was about to receive a proposition for the night? She wouldn't be able to take it if that was the only thing her ex wanted.

"Not wasted at all. In fact, I met up with an old friend. I wanted to ask her to have coffee with me. Do you think she'll say yes?"

Fleur's eyes widened, her pulse racing, grateful that Hermione had seen past the old meaning of the glove into what she really wanted.

Calmly reaching into an outer pocket of her bag, she pulled out her card and handed it to Hermione. "I'll be in town for another week. That's my mobile."

The brunette let out a long exhale, like she was relieved too, and reached for her hand, tightly squeezing it.

"It really is good to see you, Fleur. I'll call you in the morning." Hermione leaned forward and brushed her lips against Fleur's cheek, then stepped away and went back to her date.

Richard walked up afterwards and they wished each other goodnight outside the restaurant. Fleur went back to her hotel alone, feeling anxious and hopeful.

She and Hermione met for coffee the next afternoon and their conversation lasted through dinner. Polite chit-chat gave way to filling each other in on the last four years. Each of them struggled at times with references to their past and breakup but there were no recriminations, just soft apologies and regrets. They met again a few more times after that, each time getting more comfortable and engaging in some light flirting. When Fleur had to go back home, it wasn't a sad parting. They promised to stay in touch and Fleur's hope grew.

Over the next few months, Hermione sent frequent owls and text messages, and made occasional phone calls. Their conversations touched on work, more catching up on their lives, and whatever else caught their fancy. The flirting became more frequent and overt, content to circle around their attraction yet both cognizant of what lay waiting for them if or when they decided to act on it. That they were navigating another long-distance obstacle to a relationship was not lost on either woman. It wasn't explicitly said, but Fleur knew they were taking it slow, both unwilling to push beyond these tentative explorations of how their current lives could fit together until they were sure they wanted them to.

Before too long, Fleur had to go back to London for another week-long visit. Frequent get-togethers for coffee and lunch culminated in Hermione asking to take her out to dinner on her last night in town. That date ended in a sweet kiss which left Fleur wanting more for weeks afterwards. She was torn between not wanting to move too fast and wanting to solidify what was growing between them. For Hermione's part, she didn't let up with the owls and texts, and the effort reassured Fleur that the brunette wasn't going anywhere.

It was another three months after that before Fleur was back in London. It was only going to be a short visit this time, and it actually wasn't required for her to be there, but she missed Hermione and wanted to see her. She was currently sitting in an outdoor café in Diagon Alley, waiting for her.

Sipping her coffee, she saw the other witch approach and Fleur felt a contentment come over her. She couldn't fight it anymore. Her heart was no longer hers. Had it ever been? Had it ever stopped belonging to Hermione? The answer was no, the love she felt for the other witch was as strong as it ever was, and she wasn't the least bit sorry about it.

Fleur stood up and pulled her into a tight embrace.

"Mon coeur, I've missed you," she whispered into the brunette's ear.

She groaned happily at the tight squeeze of Hermione's arms and the light kiss on her neck.

"You tease me so, Hermione, but I love it. Please sit. Shall I order you a coffee?"

"No," replied Hermione, sitting down nervously. "I want to talk first."

"Oh," answered Fleur slowly, feeling a small pit grow in her stomach. "What about?"

"Nothing bad," rushed Hermione. "At least, I hope it's not bad. I just– well, let me show you."

Hermione reached into her purse, which apparently had an undetectable extension charm placed on it, and pulled out a long wooden box. Setting it on the table, she pushed it towards Fleur.

"Open it, please," urged Hermione.

Fleur's heart thundered in her chest, excited and fearful about what she would find inside. She undid the small latch, opened the box, and gasped. One finger grazed the edge of the feather inside, the same feather she had given Hermione all those years ago.

Tear-filled eyes looked up and saw wet, hopeful brown ones looking back at her.

"I wasn't really ready before for what this feather meant. I thought I was but I was young and inexperienced."

"And I stopped listening," Fleur sighed. "Your concerns and feelings were valid and I didn't see that until it was too late. I'm so sorry, Hermione."

They silently gazed at each other, their expressions full of regret, no doubt thinking of all the ways they could've been more patient and found more effective ways to communicate. Hermione swallowed and let out a ragged breath.

"I'm sorry, too. I missed you… back then… and I miss you now. I love what we've been doing and I'm bringing out this feather because I wanted to make it absolutely clear where I want this to go. I love you, Fleur. I don't think I ever stopped, and you need to know that this time I'm ready. To make us a priority, to fight for us, to never lose sight of us. And if you feel the same way…"

Fleur closed her eyes, her tears finally falling. When she opened them again, she pushed the box back to Hermione.

"Touch it," Fleur said softly.

Hermione's gaze fell on the feather almost fearfully. The Veela knew what she was thinking; she remembered how the woman had loved touching it during their courtship, always marveling at the physical sensation of Fleur's hopes and dreams for their future.

How lifeless the feather must have felt after their breakup.

Trembling as she reached out, the brunette slowly ran her finger along the feather and her breath hitched, her eyes darting up.

With Hermione having declared her love and her intentions, Fleur's hopes soared. And it felt even better than it did the first time. Not just because Hermione was the one initiating, but because the witch was doing so knowing what a Veela courtship meant. The obstacles and compromises which laid ahead of them would be difficult to overcome, but given the respect and consideration they'd shown each other over the last seven months she was confident they could face those challenges together.

"I love you, too, Hermione," Fleur said, her voice shaking with emotion. "And I would very much like for us to court again."

"Fleur," whispered Hermione, throwing herself at the blonde with a relieved cry.

Salty-tasting kisses and happy sobs filled their next moments. Fleur had her love in her arms and this time she knew they wouldn't ever let each other go.

Fleur leaned her back against the door after stepping inside her home and shutting the rest of the world out. The warm air of her home was a reprieve from the growing cold of the autumn night outside. Winter was just around the corner. She let out a slow, relieved sigh before setting her bag on the floor, and then bent down to undo the straps of her heels. She kicked off one, and then the other. A clock began to chime from deeper within the home, and Fleur began to unconsciously count along.

1, 2, 3... The smile that curled her lips was instantaneous. She rested her hands a moment on the buttons of her petticoat as she listened to a few more soundings of the beloved memento.

4, 5, 6… She shimmied her coat off her shoulders and charmed it to float to the front closet, the shoes quickly followed. The lights in the home began to dim.

7, 8, 9… She made her way down the hall to the living room and confronted the antique mahogany clock with a grin.

10, 11… As it chimed its final notes, Fleur conjured a deep red lipstick and began to apply it using the reflection of the clock's face.

This clock was the pièce de résistance of the finely decorated room. Her mère and grand-mère eyed it suspiciously when they first saw it adorn the mantel above her fireplace during Hermione and Fleur's housewarming. But with tact and grace, instead of asking how they acquired it, the older Veelas simply went on and on to the new homeowners and their guests about its fine details, restoration, and obvious Veela and other magical creature influence.

12… Midnight. The lights went completely out. Fleur wordlessly summoned a napkin, gently blotted her lips, and waited.

Her eyes slowly adjusted to the dark as she scanned the room. It was almost glowing a soft blue, lit up from the moonlight pouring through the large floor-to-ceiling windows. Shadows seemed to dance across the walls and floors. Where details such as the titles of books that lined the walls, and designs and patterns of carpet and upholstery were lost in the dark, new details stood out. The intricacies of the crown moulding, the size and reach of the plants and flowers throughout the living room seemed more pronounced. Night and day, light and dark, how separate and the same and vastly different all at once.

And there it was, right on time. A ball of light descended the stairs, then floated directly into the room and stopped in front of the Veela. Fleur closed her eyes and reveled in the growing warmth blossoming in her chest. When she opened them again, the ball of light began to bounce and swirl with an air of excitement about it. It rose and began to circle the now-silent clock.

"Oui, I remember," Fleur began with an airy laugh. "Our promise of midnight. You were quite timely. Still no one believes me when I tell them it was your idea to take this from the Beauxbatons carriage. I'm still afraid to tell Madame Maxime!"

The orb pulsed and spun before floating onward. Fleur followed to the other side of the room. It now illuminated the escritoire, first circling an ornate, silver and black fountain pen, before disappearing into one of the many compartments. Fleur pulled open the drawer and gently removed a stack of parchment tied neatly with twine. The ball of light immediately zipped into another compartment, which Fleur opened and pulled out a similar bundle, before the animated sphere again disappeared into another drawer.

"I get it! I get it! Oui! You are right. We should read these together again. It has been so many years." The ball of light again began to circle the fountain pen. "And yes, perhaps you are right. It would be romantic to start writing to each other again, and this time not out of necessity."

The bright bundle of energy began to still as Fleur untied one collection of parchment. She began to finger through the stack, glancing over My Dearest Hermione-s, and My Lovely Fleur-s. In the first year apart in their relationship they had written so many letters. Important artifacts of the history of Fleur & Hermione, they kept every single one. And when they moved in together they even sorted them by date and responses. A few from Fleur in a row here and there, unanswered. Fleur tied them together and stored them away. She convinced herself it was to preserve them, even when Hermione kindly acknowledged that some of them hurt to re-read, but that they were all still a part of their story.

She picked up the fountain pen and a new sheet of stationery. She took but a moment to think before she began to write. Why not start now? After a few minutes the glowing sphere began to bounce again, and so Fleur replaced the pen, put the parchment down, and followed where the light led.

In the kitchen the light hovered above a framed photo. It was Hermione's favorite. Fleur watched as a younger version of the Gryffindor leapt into Fleur's arms. Fleur dropped the Triwizard Cup (to the abject horror of the many officials and students in the background of the photo) in favor of catching the brunette and spinning her around in victory.

"You are the main reason I won, my petite lionne. I could not lose in front of you. I could not risk not being your champion! And what a rewarding night–" The light began to hum loudly, interrupting the Veela, before floating deeper into the kitchen.

Next on her journey was the kitchen island. The black and white marble sparkled in the light.

Atop it was a bottle of red wine and two glasses. Fleur took the cue and moved to open the bottle. The little orb began to hum loudly again. It took Fleur a moment to realize. She took in the label. It was the same vintage and vineyard as the bottle they shared on the night of their second First Time.

"Oh, yes, you have quite the memory. Speaking of…" Fleur wordlessly summoned her bag from the foyer. She opened up the bag and carefully removed two small servings of tiramisu, before digging around her bag for a moment and pulling out two tiny spoons. Holding it up to the ball of light, she could have sworn she heard faint laughter coming from upstairs.

"Demitasse spoons. On our second First Date at the café, I discovered how much you love them, and even more how you delight in everything having very particular names. I adored how you used yours for your dessert, and even more so how red you turned when I saw you slipping the spoon into your purse. 'Too adorable to leave behind,' you said." Fleur began to laugh out loud at the memory as she put the newly stolen spoons each into a slice of tiramisu.

She finished pouring the wine, and enchanted the drinks and food to float behind her as she eyed the white light, ready to see what stop on memory lane it would take her to next. It led her through the dining room and to the bottom of the stairs. It glowed atop the banister, casting light onto something that caused Fleur to smile from ear to ear.

She knew what it meant. What seeing a glove always meant. The warmth in her chest spread low in her stomach.

Sending the tiramisus back to the kitchen island, she took one sip of wine before picking up one long, slender, Beauxbatons-blue glove. She stroked it, the soft texture evoking emotions and memories. Fleur pushed her fingers inside and pulled the length of it over her hand and forearm. Satin, fine and familiar. Heating up her skin the same way her old school glove once did that day in the Hogwarts tunnel. That was when she noticed it was just the one glove. She looked around to see if its pair had fallen, but there was no trace of it. The white light began to move again, this time ascending the staircase.

It stopped once again. On the newel post at the top of the stairs hung a blue hat that matched the shade of the glove.

Chuckling, Fleur walked up the stairs, untucking her shirt from her pants, glancing at the various pictures on the wall as she went. A couple from their wedding. Some from their honeymoon and other travels. Friends and family. The one with them holding a toddler with proud parents Ron and Padma Weasley beside them always made her smile.

It'd surprised her to learn Hermione had become friends with him again during their breakup. She remembered a day towards the end of the tournament when he'd approached them in Hogsmeade and made a sheepish attempt to apologize and reconnect with Hermione. They had both observed him over the previous weeks building up to it. He'd obviously felt bad but it'd been a schoolboy's apology and he hadn't fully understood the hurt and harm he'd caused with his words and actions, so Hermione wouldn't forgive him. Not even when he tried again a year later.

Apparently, things changed a couple of years after Hermione graduated and she ran into him in Diagon Alley. He'd spent that time traveling, learning about himself and the world, and coming into his own. And when the man he'd become apologized again, it was sincere and heartfelt. Then later, after Fleur and Hermione had gotten back together, he apologized to Fleur, too. Ron was one of their best friends now, and they were godmothers to his daughter Rose.

Reaching the newel post broke her reverie. She grabbed the hat, placed it on her head, and made her way to the master bedroom. Even though she knew her wife was on the other side of the closed door, Fleur was still curious about how Hermione would present herself.

Should she put on her old uniform before she went in? It still fit, after all, and they'd made use of it on more than one occasion. Hermione's old tie and scarf had been especially enjoyable as well. Fleur got her answer when her luminescent guide drifted over a small bookshelf near the door, with her uniform folded delicately. Next to it was an empty jar.

Smiling, she quickly disrobed herself of her work attire, and left on her undergarments and the single glove. It took only a minute to put on her old uniform, and another to enchant her hair into a long braid to Hermione's liking. With one more sip of wine, she steadied herself, and reached for the doorknob.

But the door was locked. She tried again. She jiggled the handle, tried a quick alohomora, and still the door wouldn't budge.

"Try the password," Hermione's voice sounded from the other side of the door.

"Password? Password?!" Fleur was horny and flustered. Her voice cracked. "What kind of–"

The luminous sphere caught Fleur's eyes just then, as it turned blue, back to white, then fizzled out completely.

"Oh," she chuckled to herself. "Of course."

Fleur straightened her skirt, pulled at the glove and took a breath before taking out her wand and picking up the empty jar. She whispered the two-word incantation her wife had created and shared with no one else except for her.

A blue flame came alight, and the door creaked open.

The little bit of glow from the blue flame in Fleur's hands and the moonlight from the window were not enough to light up the room. The door closed behind her as she waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness.

"Sharing is caring," a sing-song voice said, sparking warmth within the Veela.

"Hermione," Fleur gasped and two arms encircled her from behind.

With a whispered incantation, the Veela's wife floated the flame from the mason jar into the air in front of them. It began to dance and pulse.

"Pick a number, any number," Hermione whispered into Fleur's ear, before nuzzling into her neck.

The Veela's eyes fluttered closed and goosebumps erupted down her arms and legs. Even after all this time the Gryffindor had such an effect on the Beauxbatons alumna. She felt her knees weaken as Hermione brought her mouth to the shell of Fleur's ear and began to gently nibble.

"Stay with me now," Hermione whispered again, before nipping harder and squeezing her arms around Fleur just a bit tighter.

"Oh, uhm…" Fleur pulled her awareness from the delicious sensations in her body back to her brain. "Three."

"Three it is," chuckled her wife.

The single mason jar multiplied so that now there were three, and the blue flame split accordingly and resumed their places inside the jars. One jar went to the nightstand beside the bed, the other two floated to either side of the room. With the additional light, Fleur could now see their bedroom, but it was still dim enough to be considered romantic.

Fleur spun around to give her wife a proper kiss.

"Happy anniversary, love," Hermione murmured against her lips as she backed Fleur to the bed.

"Seven years," mused Fleur, letting herself fall backwards onto the mattress and now getting an eyeful of Hermione's attire. Grey pleated skirt, white collared-shirt with the Gryffindor tie on, grey knee-high socks.

Brown eyes roamed her legs, raising an eyebrow at the Beauxbatons skirt that Fleur let rise up her thighs as she scooted backwards on the bed to rest her head on a pillow.

"And also fifteen," reminded Hermione as she followed her, settling on her knees between Fleur's legs. Her hands caressed the tops of her thighs before moving upwards to take Fleur's hands to raise them over her head, whispering for her to keep them there.

Fleur giggled. "And also fifteen."

It had been Hermione's idea to get married on the anniversary of that first night together in the carriage. Her wife had become very romantic in the years since restarting their courtship.

At first she thought it was her way to reassure Fleur of her commitment. But after Fleur tried to convince her not to force herself to perform unnecessary gestures and that the love and trust they had now meant she didn't need them like she thought she did when they were younger, Hermione said she wasn't forcing herself to do anything. She just liked doing them. It made her happy to see Fleur's smiles. Being more comfortable in her skin, and in their love, made it come naturally.

"You know, I would've been happy with just dessert and a cuddle in bed," Fleur said, nodding at their outfits. "I know you've had a hard week at work."

Hermione bent forward to trail kisses along Fleur's jaw.

"But that's exactly why we should celebrate like this. Because I know you've needed it, too. Dealing with all of us British idiots on this new treaty can't be easy."

Fleur sighed into her wife's neck. It really had been an exhausting week.

After they got engaged, and Fleur moved in with Hermione, she was appointed by the recently formed European Council of Veela to be its first Ambassador to Britain. Her previous work liaising on behalf of the Delacour clan and, on a more informal basis, other European clans, helped her name get bandied about when the clans finally set aside ancient rivalries and realized they would have more negotiating clout with the various Ministries of Europe if they joined together. And it worked. The new treaty with Britain would recognize Veela as equals with wizarding kind, with all the rights and privileges pertaining thereto. Once it was signed, Fleur planned to resign her position and start a new curse-breaking business.

Hermione's lips softly glided across Fleur's cheek to her mouth. The Gryffindor's lips danced feather-light across Fleur's, causing the Veela to sigh in pleasure. When Hermione leaned back up to gaze at Fleur, there was warmth and adoration in her brown eyes.

Goddess, I love this woman, Fleur thought before deciding she didn't really need to keep her hands put and reached forward to grasp the Gryffindor's tie. She pulled on it just enough to initiate the pillowy collision of their lips, sending shockwaves of arousal through both women.

Fleur would never tire, would never not feel the eruptions of fire and want inside of her for her wife when they kissed.

She held the tie firmly, keeping Hermione in place. As the kiss deepened, Fleur slid her glove-adorned hand up to the back of Hermione's neck. She grazed the fabric across Hermione's sensitive skin. Satin-covered fingertips and palm elicited sweet and needy noises from the brunette and caused her body to melt heavily on top of Fleur's.

The feel of the weight of the woman on her set Fleur's mind hazy with arousal.

It was Fleur sliding her hands up to tangle within and pull at Hermione's mane that flipped the switch inside of the Gryffindor.

Hermione's kisses turned bruising, her tongue greedy, hands determined. It took Fleur several seconds and a sharp nip at her collarbone for her to realize her capelet had been pushed open and her blouse unbuttoned.

A faint whirring and clattering noises could be heard briefly. She looked around confused, and then up to Hermione's face. In the glow of the blue flames, the woman gave Fleur a sheepish grin before she let her eyes drop to the blonde's chest. When Fleur's eyes followed, she saw several haphazard threads where buttons should have been.

Both witches curled into each other in a fit of laughter. Fleur took advantage of recovering first and rolled Hermione over so that she was now on top, straddling the Gryffindor. Demonstrating more elegance and dexterity than her wife, Fleur efficiently unfastened the buttons on Hermione's shirt, popped the collar, and thrust the garment open. Wasting no time, Fleur leaned in to feast her mouth and hands on exposed skin.

Hermione was grabbing at the sheets and writhing in pleasure until Fleur stopped and pulled back with a self-satisfied smirk on her face.

"What–?" began the pouting brunette "Oh."

Her red bra was dangling from one of Fleur's fingers. Hermione bit her lip and slightly shook her head, impressed.

"Come here," Hermione commanded as she sat up and wrapped an arm around her wife's waist.

Fleur let out an appreciative groan. Not only did the Gryffindor's agile moves turn her on, but the vision before her of Hermione disheveled ramped up the fire in her belly.

Hermione's shirt had started to fall off to one side, leaving her shoulder and half of her torso exposed. Her tie hung loosely. Fleur's mouth salivated and she leaned forward to claim the exposed flesh with her mouth.

Hermione quickly pulled her shirt closed to cover herself, then tutted in disapproval. Fleur looked at the witch and froze, confusion penetrating her haze of lust.

"Not like that," the brunette said coyly, and then let her shirt fall open again.

She reached forward and took Fleur's hand in her own and guided it toward her breast. The Veela hummed approvingly and reached to pinch a perfect exposed nipple, but the brunette moved just out of reach again and shook her head.

"Like this," Hermione directed.

Blue eyes and brown eyes connected again. Hermione guided Fleur's hand to her breast, but stopped just short of allowing Fleur to touch.

Heavy, uneven breaths punctuated the silence of the room.

Hermione opened Fleur's fingers and drew the Veela's palm close enough so that it was just barely touching her nipple. Both women gasped. Hermione began to daintily move Fleur's hand in small circles, allowing the Veela's palm to keep contact with the brunette's sensitive bud. Fleur shuddered and let her eyes drop to watch the torturous caress go on and on and on.

Dizzy with desire, Fleur steadied herself by grabbing tightly to Hermione with her other hand. Her heartbeat roared in her own ears. Her mouth dropped open in hungry anticipation. This miniscule yet powerful point of contact had every nerve in the Veela's body electric and transfixed.

A whimper escaped Hermione, and Fleur snapped her gaze back to the Gryffindor's face. Hermione's eyes were heavy-lidded, her mouth an almost grimace of bliss. Fleur brought her thumb and forefinger together firmly to grip and pinch the bundle of nerves that had been teasing her.

Hermione's eyes clamped shut. Her whimper cut off. Her beautiful mouth clenched closed for a moment, and then unfurled open and into laughter.

"Pleasure-pain," Fleur growled as she pulled the captive bud in her fingers.

"Pleasure-pain," echoed Hermione, before opening her eyes and pulling the blonde in for a deep kiss.

Hermione began to hike up the skirt of Fleur's dress. She broke the kiss momentarily and tapped on Fleur's thighs, signaling for her to lift up her hips. The Veela obeyed immediately, and felt her brain short-circuit again as Hermione's hands disappeared beneath the fabric. The Gryffindor deftly looped her thumbs in the band of Fleur's underwear and slid it over her ass and down her thighs.

"Come on, baby, stay with me," Hermione cooed into Fleur's ear.

Fleur was almost embarrassed by how quickly ruined her brain became when Hermione touched her this way. She dumbly allowed the brunette to move her legs, her body, to remove Fleur's slick panties completely.

Finding herself seated on the edge of the bed, she watched Hermione stand and remove her skirt. She whistled after she realized what Hermione had been wearing magically concealed underneath her pleated skirt the whole time.

"It's been a few months since I've seen that. I was beginning to think you got rid of it."

Hermione looked down at herself and ran her hands over the black leather straps around her waist, and then along the length of their favorite dildo. She shook her head.

"I was saving it for a surprise I've been working on."

Fleur bit her lip and clenched her thighs together as a hot heat bloomed below her belly. Hermione's surprises always always resulted in new delicious rapture. She briefly brought her hands together to curl her bare fingers over the gloved ones before moving them back to grip the edge of the bed on either side of her.

"And the other glove?" she asked, tipping her head back and spreading her legs. "I didn't see it downstairs."

"That's part of the surprise for tonight," teased Hermione, stepping forward to stand between her wife's legs. She let her fingers drag up and up until they grasped at the soft flesh of Fleur's thighs.

"Oh?" The Veela's excitement was now at a fever pitch. She hissed and tensed as Hermione's fingers groped and then caressed the sensitive skin.

"Just something I've been working on in my spare time. Do you remember the special warming charm from that day?" Hermione brought one hand to the cock between her legs, and crept the other hand toward Fleur's center.

"Ah oui," Fleur's voice broke as her wife used two fingers to part the Veela's lower lips.

"The temperature changes were very nice." Fleur groaned as Hermione leaned forward and rubbed the tip of the dildo against her cunt, using her slick to lubricate it. Fleur leaned back until she was resting on her elbows, her body was buzzing and weakened with want.

"Did you– did you do the same thing with the other glove?" Her legs began to shake.

Fleur remembered the dusty tunnel at Hogwarts. The heat of Hermione's cheeks as she touched her. She also remembered how she used the glove that night. The way it looked balled up in Hermione's mouth as she rode her.

Hermione continued the slow rock of her hips, and Fleur trembled as the dildo slid over her clit again and again.

"Not exactly." Hermione glanced down between them. "I think you're ready for me to show you, though."

"Please, Hermione, I need you," begged Fleur, spreading her legs even wider, and trying to jut her own hips forward, hoping to make the strap slip inside.

"Shhh, I've got you. Open your mouth."

Hermione raised a hand and wandlessly summoned the missing glove.

Fleur eagerly complied as Hermione gently pushed as much of the glove as would safely fill the blonde's mouth.

"All good?" Hermione asked.

She nodded, and at her muffled 'oui' Hermione's eyes widened, and Fleur felt a slight twinge in the strap between her legs.

"I think we're both going to like this," Hermione whispered as she positioned the tip of the dildo against Fleur's entrance and pushed forward.

A loud groan later, and Fleur figured out exactly what Hermione had done. Her wife was an ingenious little minx and had created a charm which linked the sound waves against the fabric of the glove to the dildo inside her, vibrating and throbbing at each whimper and moan. And from the way Hermione just gasped and bit her lip, there was a sensory component for her as well.

Fleur grinned. Well, as much as she could with a glove in her mouth.

Grabbing her shoulders, she rolled them over until she straddled her wife.

This was going to be fun.

A/N: This whole fic was originally envisioned to be some oneshot smuttiness based around a glove, and as what usually happens with writers, ChokolateFever and I got caught up in wanting to give it more heart. And we also couldn't help but want to see what happened to our girls, hence this last chapter.

Many thanks to ChokolateFever for this collaboration. We started this thing when we were still in the beginnings of our fleurmione journey, and I think we've both gotten better at this in the years since.

Another thank you to our readers. Your support has been very much appreciated.

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This fic was updated here because I didn't want to leave any readers hanging, but if you want to read more from me, I now write over at archiveofourown and have several new fleurmione fics over there that aren't here. Thanks!