CW: Teenage sexuality and romance - not explicit - between characters ~2.5 years in age apart. If this makes you uncomfortable, skip to chapter 247

Ley line magic was very different from any kind of magic Hermione had experienced. Pulling on a ley line made her feel almost drunk with magic, if she pulled too much, and it had a way of lulling her into almost a trance, her own magic and heartbeat syncing with that of the world.

"You cannot let the line capture you," Fleur admonished, pinching Hermione sharply. "Pay attention. You must stay centered."

The pain helped focus Hermione even as she winced, and she wrenched her eyes shut and focused on her core, taking deep breaths to steady it once again. As she did, her core finally returned to its natural spin, finally spinning the ley line magic within her to resonate with her own natural magic, as opposed to vice versa.

"Good," Fleur murmured approvingly. "Now – cast with this magic. Use none of your own."

Keeping her own magic separate from the ley line magic felt like a sort of mental gymnastics, tearing Hermione's head in two, but she thought she had somewhat managed it by the time she took out her wand.

"Orchideous."

A bouquet of flowers burst from the tip of her wand, and Hermione felt almost dizzy. Fleur steadied her.

"It is hard, to be a channel for magic," she soothed her. "But look! You have succeeded already!"

"But I feel like I'm about to pass out," Hermione protested, rubbing at her eyes. "Fleur, can we take a break? I don't think I can do this again right now."

Fleur cast an examining eye over her before nodding.

"I do not want you to overextend," she said. "Carefully, now – let go of the line."

Letting go of the ley line helped Hermione immensely, as she felt more and more normal as she let it go. She shook her head as if to clear it, before collapsing back onto the lawn dramatically, heaving a great sigh.

"Hopefully the hedgewitches will have an easier time of it," she said, sighing. "They won't have much natural magic to have to keep separate from it – maybe they'll take to it naturally."

Fleur laughed, shrugging her shoulders impishly. "Perhaps."

The grass behind Fleur's house was thick and a deep green, with pretty bushes and flowers planted around. Elaborate gardens seemed to be a very French thing, and Hermione saw it reflected in the Delacour yard, though on a much smaller scale.

"Your mother seemed to like me," Hermione said, looking to Fleur. She smiled tentatively. "That's good, right?"

"Very," Fleur assured Hermione. "My father, he will like you simply because my mother does. She is the one who decides things in the house." Fleur paused, tilting her head curiously, and it looked like she wanted to say something else.

"What is it?" Hermione asked.

Fleur hesitated. "You… did not seem overcome when you met my mother."

"Um," Hermione said. "No?" She looked at Fleur quizzically. "I thought you tested that already – when you took your wig off, in the park."

"Oui, you do not fall subject to Veela hair," Fleur said, looking at Hermione, "but my mother, she still has the Veela allure, and much stronger than mine."

Hermione knew she must look puzzled. She wasn't following Fleur's train of thought.

"Maybe she wasn't using it?" Hermione offered.

"It is not a thing to be turned 'on' and 'off'," Fleur said, raising a delicately arched eyebrow. "It simply is."

"Oh," Hermione said. She bit her lip. "Well, certainly that's a good thing, right? It'd be very embarrassing if I was staring inappropriately at your mother or something, wouldn't it?"

Fleur laughed. She looked slyly at Hermione sideways, her smile wicked, and Hermione felt her breath catch.

"Oui, Hermione," she said. Her blue eyes had darkened. "But if you do not fall prey to my mother's allure… how is it you fall victim to my own?"

Hermione froze.

"I—I don't—"

"I am not stupid." Fleur's voice was lower now, her eyes fixed on Hermione's. "I see how you look at me, how you blush when I touch you. I can feel your pulse flutter when I take your hand."

Hermione could feel her face burn red.

"You knew?" she said, mortified. She couldn't meet Fleur's eyes. "And you invited me over here anyway?"

Fleur tilted her head. "Why would I not?"

Hermione couldn't find the words she needed. "I—I thought—wouldn't you think it inappropriate for a friend, for a friend to—"

"Why?" Fleur asked.

"Why what?" Hermione asked, frustrated. "Fleur, friends don't normally—they don't normally—"

"They do not normally call each other beautiful, yes?" Fleur said. "They do not let their eyes linger on each other's lips and neck, or find their hand on each other's waist?"

It was a more delicate way of putting it than Hermione could think of. "Yes."

Fleur tilted her head.

"Hermione," she said. She took her hand in hers, and Hermione felt her face burn hotter. "Hermione, look at me."

It took a monumental effort for Hermione to manage to look up at Fleur, her blue eyes finally meeting hers.

"Did you think you were the only one?" she murmured. She ran her fingers over the back of Hermione's hand, eliciting a small shiver, her eyes never leaving hers. "As often as I catch you looking at me, I catch you because I am looking at you."

Hermione's heart pounded. She felt like she couldn't breathe.

"It was new, of course," Fleur shrugged, "as I had not encountered a girl like you, who looks at other girls like boys do. But it was not unwelcome – you were always polite and kind, more shielding me from your interest than anything, never making demands." Here, Fleur paused. "And yet… I have introduced you to my mother. And you are untouched by her allure, unchanged." She looked at Hermione, examining. "Yet I do not think I have guessed wrong."

Hermione's head was spinning with Fleur's words. She focused on the easier ones first, the ones easiest to respond to without getting all flustered.

"Why would I fall under your mother's allure?" she asked. "It's your mother, not you. And it's—I mean, you know it's you I've—I've 'watched'—"

"The Veela allure does not work like that," Fleur argued. "It either captures you, or it does not. It does not make sense, for you to fall victim to one Veela's allure but be immune to another's—"

"Well, maybe it has nothing to do with you being a Veela," Hermione snapped, patience waning thin, "and everything to do with me being attracted to you just as a person."

Fleur stopped, her eyes widening, and Hermione broke away from her gaze, tugging her hand back.

"It doesn't seem to bother you," Hermione said, not looking at her, "so yes, I'll admit it: I like you. Rather a lot, actually. You're brilliant and you're fun and you're beautiful, and I find myself enjoying your company whenever you're near. But Fleur—that's you. I liked you even when you had dark hair and wore the dampening amulet all the time. Without the amulet, you're different, sure – but you're just more vibrantly you."

She chanced a glance up at the older girl, who seemed somewhat stunned.

"And I'm sorry if that's blunt, but that's just how it is, Fleur," Hermione said, biting her lip. "I fancy you. I wasn't going to say anything about it, of course – it'd be terribly awkward and could ruin our friendship, and I have to go back to Britain soon anyway – but I do. And—don't get me wrong, I do like your Veela attributes, your hair, your eyes – but I like them in the same way anyone inherits traits from their parents." She paused, hesitating. "…does that make sense?"

Fleur was shifting now, her blue eyes narrowing somewhat.

"So you are saying," she said, "that though you are a girl who loves girls, the Veela allure does not touch you."

Hermione's face burned to hear it described that way, but she kept her head up and nodded, determined.

"And that even though my Veela allure does not touch you," Fleur continued, "you still want me for your own."

"That's a very possessive way of putting it," Hermione objected hotly. "I'd never presume—I'll admit to wanting to be closer to you, but—"

"But you do want me," Fleur said, waving her hand in dismissal. Her eyes seemed to glow on Hermione's. "Do you not?"

Hermione's throat ran dry. "…yes."

Fleur's eyes flared with triumph, though her eyes darkened further.

"I have never heard of such a thing," Fleur murmured. "Of someone wanting a Veela for the person, not for the Veela part."

"Well, if Veela generally date men, that makes sense, doesn't it?" Hermione said defensively, deflecting. "If men fall to the allure or the hair magic and can't help it, they'd hardly be able to differentiate, would they?"

"You want me," Fleur said again. Her eyes held Hermione's. "I wondered, when you let me put the clip in your hair, in front of everybody, even though I wore the dampener."

"Did you mean that?" Hermione's voice sounded off, her mouth dry. She swallowed. "I'll admit I thought nothing of it at the time, it was just a nice gesture, but my friend pointed out what it could mean, what you might have meant it to mean, and I—"

"Did you hope that I meant it?" Fleur murmured. Her eyes seemed to glow. "When you realized what I had done, did your heart pound?"

"I—" Hermione struggled for words. "I—"

"Did part of you hope I wanted to court you?" Fleur's words were low, her voice captivating. "Did you hope I felt such soft things back?"

With Fleur's eyes burning into hers, Hermione couldn't deny it any longer.

"Yes," she whispered. "I did."

Fleur's eyes lit, before she smiled.

"And if I told you I felt such soft things back?"

"Do you?" Hermione was flustered. "I didn't—I thought you were just affectionate—I didn't know—"

"I thought you under my thrall, through no fault of your own," Fleur said simply. "Though I knew I liked you, I thought I held your attention through my allure." She paused. "That you might care for me without it… that thought did not occur."

Understanding filtered into Hermione's mind.

"You saw yourself like in the story," she realized. "The one with Erik, and Christine."

Fleur gave her a wry smile.

"It is an apt comparison, no?" she said. She ran her thumb over the back of Hermione's hand. "A Veela's allure is not so different from a Siren's song. I even gave you a clip, for you to treasure and think fondly on, as Erik gave Christine his ring."

"Did you mean it, then?" Hermione's heart thudded. "As a—as a courting gift, when you put it in my hair?"

Fleur was still rubbing Hermione's hand absently.

"Our story need not have such a sad ending, though, need it?" Fleur murmured. She looked up at Hermione, her blue eyes warm. "We know now you fancy me for me, with nothing to do with my Veela allure."

"But—" Hermione was finding words hard to manage again. "What does that mean, for us?"

Fleur tilted her head. "What do you want it to mean?"

A thousand thoughts raced through Hermione's head, none of them ones she wanted to give voice to or admit.

"We—I—" She cleared her throat. "I go back to Britain soon, at the end of the month. It's not like…"

"Yes," Fleur sighed. "This is why my mother, she was teasing you about transferring to Beauxbatons."

"Really?" Hermione asked, astonished. "Did she—like, as a friend, or—did she know about the hair clip?"

"Who is to say?" Fleur equivocated. "You would have to ask her."

Hermione's eyes were on Fleur, who moved closer on the grass to sit nearer to Hermione. Slowly, she reached out, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, her hand soft on her face. Her eyes held Hermione's, and Hermione wondered if she was still breathing.

"A flower's beauty is but fleeting, Hermione," Fleur murmured. "But that does not mean we do not enjoy its brilliance while it lasts."

Hermione couldn't think of anything to say, but when Fleur leaned closer, her intent clear, Hermione found she couldn't really think at all.

"I am going to kiss you now, Hermione," she whispered.

"Oh, please." Hermione's voice came out in a bit of whimper, and the ghost of Fleur's laughter warmed her face.

And then Fleur was kissing her.

Hermione had been kissed once before; it had been warm and tingly, soft and breathless and promising. It had been a frozen moment in time with Blaise before she risked her life against the basilisk, perfectly crystallized in time. She didn't think she'd ever forget it.

Kissing Fleur was nothing like that.

It was like tinder catching fire.

Fleur held nothing back; her kiss was passionate, warm and needy and intense, and Hermione felt a moan escape her, unable to help herself as she tangled her fingers in Fleur's hair and pulled her closer, desperate to keep kissing her. The two girls fell to the ground, still kissing, Hermione's back against the grass as Fleur teased her with her tongue, nipping at her lips, making Hermione gasp as heat flooded her veins.

It seemed as if Fleur was speaking to her through the kiss, Hermione thought in a daze. Fleur's desperation as her lips attacked hers – that was Fleur's astonished joy and disbelief that someone could want her for her, not for being a Veela. And her small nibbles on Hermione's lips – that was Fleur being playful and impish, because she seemed to take delight in the way Hermione's face blushed around her. Her feelings came across clearer in the kiss than they ever could with words.

Hermione wondered if Fleur could feel her emotions too, through the kiss. Here, as she pulled Fleur tight and kissed her furiously, that was Hermione's own incredulity that this was actually happening despite all her secret wants, and here, as she wove her fingers through Fleur's hair, that was her grounding them both, reassuring them that yes, this was actually happening, and here, as she kissed Fleur more softly, reverently, that was her whispering that yes, it was in this sort of way she cared about her…

Fleur moved to press open-mouthed kisses to Hermione's neck, provoking gasps and small moans from Hermione that she couldn't contain, and Fleur laughed against her skin.

"The rumors, they say Veela saliva, it is an aphrodisiac," she murmured, her eyes glowing as they held Hermione's. "Are you immune to this too?"

"How would I possibly know if it's that or just you?" Hermione groaned. She pulled Fleur down to her, kissing her again, the older girl laughing against her mouth as she braced herself over Hermione's body. She deepened the kiss, making Hermione gasp, and tentatively, Hermione slid a hand around Fleur's waist, pulling her down firmly on top of her once more, pressing her into the ground as she kissed her hard.

By the time they stopped, both girls were panting for air, breathless, and utterly dazzled. Hermione glanced at Fleur as she tried to catch her breath, her cheeks warm, but Fleur's cheeks were flushed as well, and her gaze was sly and suggestive.

"Your parents are on a romantic Seine cruise, yes?" she said. Her eyes roved over Hermione's body, the dress she'd put on that morning tousled from their rolling over the ground. "They will not be looking for you soon?"

"Not for hours," Hermione said breathlessly, hope tingeing her tone, and Fleur laughed again as she lowered her lips to hers once more.