CW: Romance between characters ~2.5 years in age apart and mention of teen sexuality.

As the days passed in France, Hermione often went over to Fleur's in the evenings, leaving her own parents alone for romantic candlelit dinners. Her parents were enjoying the romance of their trip and grateful for her courtesy, while Hermione was swept up in a breathless teenage romance of her own.

Hermione had only really been pseudo-courted, before. She'd gone on a date with Cedric, once, and he'd kissed the back of her hand like a gentleman, but he'd offered her no courting gifts (not that she expected him to), and despite his flowery words, he'd remained physically reserved.

Fleur was not like that at all.

Hermione still wasn't quite sure what to make of the butterfly Fleur had given her, now (Were they courting, for the rest of her visit, now? Or was it just a gift?), but one thing was certain: Fleur was not a person who was physically reserved with her affections at all.

Fleur was older than Hermione, presumably more experienced, and she did not hesitate to express her attraction to Hermione physically, kissing her deeply and stealing her breath away frequently. Hermione didn't mind it at all – she really liked it, if she was being honest with herself – but it made it very difficult to think. She often ended up breathless and flushed, squirming slightly and trying to calm her heart. She could tell that Fleur ended up breathless as well, her blue eyes darkening as she looked at her, but Fleur seemed able to handle it better than she could – often, Hermione found herself swept up in it all, drugged by Fleur's kisses, never wanting it to end.

Being with Fleur was overwhelming in a wordless, incredible sort of way. Hermione felt like she could hardly breathe sometimes, she was so lucky, but Fleur always smiled and commented on how alive she looked in her eyes, which was a much prettier way for her excitement to come out.

Hermione and Fleur both seemed very aware that though their whirlwind romance was lovely, it was bound to halt as the summer came to an end and Hermione returned home – they were, after all, both fairly practical-minded girls. Instead of fearing their inevitable parting, both girls instead savored the time they had with each other, making sure each moment was full of positivity and good memories. They never spoke of formally courting or breaking apart, but somehow, Hermione's heart was moderately at peace, not needing to know the certainty of such things just yet.

They talked and chatted about everything, opening up to each other naturally as they laid on the grass in Fleur's back yard, watching the sun set. Fleur confessed to her that she'd not been attracted to another girl before, before Hermione, and hadn't known how to recognize it when it came.

"It was a slow thing, at first, but then more and more," Fleur told her. "You talked to me, you cared about me. You spoke of defending the creatures, of doing what was right, what needed to be done. And even when you looked at me, your eyes were respectful, and you did not linger lustfully over my body as if I was something to be consumed."

Hermione felt her heart twinge, that Fleur was already so accustomed to the lecherous gaze of men.

"I was so happy to have a friend," Fleur continued. "It was new, exciting, and I felt joy in a way I had not since I was young. It took me some time, to realize I longed for you beyond being a friend." She hummed. "I think I realized it was more when you wept in my arms, at the Palais Garnier, and I wanted nothing more to comfort and hold you and never let you go."

Fleur's words made Hermione's heart warm. She had good memories of that moment, too, despite the fact she'd been crying at the time.

"You're not the first girl I've been attracted to," Hermione had shared, "but you're the first one who I felt anything like this for before. Girls who like girls… that sort of thing isn't received well, back in wizarding Britain, and those who like both, they generally try to focus on liking only the opposite sex. It's just easier, in the end, than fighting against society."

Hermione's smile was brittle, and Fleur scoffed.

"Britain is backwards," she declared. "Love is love is love. We French, we embrace love wherever we might find it, and we revel in the joy and happiness it brings. Love is to be celebrated when it is found, not condemned. Life is too short to ignore what makes you happy."

Hermione opened up about fancying boys, too. She told Fleur about her classmates, and the few who had caught her eye or who seemed to want to catch hers. She told her about Cedric and his clear intentions, his bold actions, and Fleur hummed, her eyes dancing.

"If you do date this Cedric, when you return," Fleur said, teasing, "at least you will not need to be so shy about kissing him now, yes?"

"Fleur!" Hermione's face flamed, and Fleur laughed.

Hermione paused a moment, regarding Fleur's smile.

"You wouldn't mind?" she asked.

Fleur blinked. "Mind what?"

"If I did date a boy," Hermione said. She gnawed at her lip. "If I did kiss someone else."

Fleur's eyes gentled in understanding, and she reached out to brush Hermione's cheek.

"Why would I deny you something that would make you happy?" she murmured. Her eyes were alight, holding hers. "Love is wonderful, and kissing is wonderful too. I want you to experience these wonderful things, Hermione, even if they are not with me." She gave her a small smile. "Would you be upset if I kissed another, Hermione?"

Hermione paused. "I—I don't know."

"Even if it made me happy?"

She tried to imagine it, Fleur kissing some tall, handsome boy in the halls of her school. Though her heart twinged, it didn't quite feel like jealousy – merely like she would want to be kissing Fleur, too. She wondered if it was because she knew they had no long-term future together already, that she could be happy for Fleur finding love somewhere else.

"No," she admitted, almost surprised. "I—I think I'd be happy for you."

Fleur laughed, running her hands through Hermione's hair.

"Kissing another does not mean I would want to kiss you any less," she told her, pressing a kiss to her head. "It just means I am kissing someone else. Love is not limited. Only our time is finite like this, and we must choose with whom to spend it."

Fleur had never been attracted to anyone since she'd gotten her cycle, she confided in Hermione, which had been years ago at this point. It was why this was all so new and strange to her, she confessed – romance and attraction were entirely new things.

"Before, there were boys who maybe I fancied," she said. "Maybe. I do not know. But after – after, when they all looked at me differently, it was harder, and I did not."

"Because they didn't really see you?" Hermione asked, and Fleur nodded.

"I tried," she said, sighing wistfully. "I let a few kiss me, near the start. The kissing, the petting, it was nice enough, but… there was no draw, no real connection. I wanted none of them to be drawn to me, even though they were, and I felt no draw to them. Eventually, I stopped trying altogether. It angered my classmates, at any rate, that I could draw any boy to my side."

"Are any men immune to the Veela allure?"

"Very few," Fleur admitted. "Those who are already very dedicated to their partners, they are more immune than most, but those already dedicated to their partners… it would be futile to want one such as that at the start. Other part-creatures, perhaps, would be immune. I do not know if that would be compatible, though…"

"Do you really think of yourself as part creature?" Hermione wanted to know.

Fleur laughed.

"How can I not?" she asked. She held up a hand, wiggling her fingers. "When I am angry, these turn to claws, and fireballs grow at my fingertips. It is not human, it is more animal." She raised an eyebrow. "Why? How do you think of me, Hermione?"

"'Fleur'," Hermione said honestly, shrugging. She looked at the other girl. "I think of you as just Fleur."

A smile slowly spread across Fleur's face, and she tugged Hermione down for more kisses once again.

The last week of vacation the Grangers had scheduled to spend at the French Riviera. Hermione's mother had booked a beautiful hotel in Nice right on the coastline and booked them a train to get there. Hermione had told this to Fleur with great regret, not wanting to have to say goodbye, but Fleur's eyes had sparkled with mischief.

To Hermione's delight and surprise, as it so happened, the Delacours had a holiday house nearby as well, on a hidden stretch of the coastline, shielded from muggle eyes. As embarrassing as it was to have Fleur reveal their romance to her mother, it was well worth it to be able to see Fleur during the rest of her holiday. Their holiday house was maybe a twenty-minute walk from Hermione's hotel, which wasn't bad at all.

"This area, it is Unplottable," Fleur explained, gesturing at the large houses. "These are all the wizarding vacation houses. Many are French, but many are English and Swiss as well." She considered. "Your classmate, Malfoy – I think his family has a mansion here."

Hermione had the absurd urge to find out which mansion was Draco's and promptly ding-dong-ditch his family. Fleur caught the grin on Hermione's face and asked about it, which led to Hermione explaining the very muggle custom of ding-dong-ditching one's neighbors when one was a young child, making Fleur laugh.

"I do not think there is a magical equivalent," she said, humming. "Perhaps we could make one? Floo a chocolate frog into someone's house, maybe, when they are not at home?"

"Wouldn't it melt?" Hermione asked, confused, and Fleur laughed.

"Probably," she admitted. She grinned. "It is a work in progress."

Hermione's parents were surprised to see Fleur around again, but they seemed to dismiss it easily enough as 'magic'. Hermione was glad for the companionship – Hermione's parents seemed perfectly content to lie on the beach and sleep or read, while Hermione wanted to swim in the ocean and attempt to play volleyball. Fleur was delighted to swim with Hermione, having splashing contests with her and just swimming around. They attempted to play volleyball against some other teens, once, and Hermione did horribly, but Fleur leapt through the air like a graceful dancer as she hit the ball. They lost tragically, but Fleur was a good sport.

"If we played in the magical section of beach, I suspect we would not lose then," Fleur said, her eyes sparkling with secrecy. "Not when one of us can fly."

Hermione blushed. "I doubt magicals would want to play volleyball at all, though."

Fleur shrugged, uncaring. "I am magical, and I played. We could make them, if we wanted it enough."

Hermione was rather proud of herself for not getting carried away with Fleur in her bathing suit. As they stayed on the muggle side of the beach with the Grangers, Fleur wore her swimsuit without hesitation – a long torso one piece in a shiny blue with navy piping. She looked elegant and lithe in it as she did in everything, and Hermione was relieved that other than her long, bare legs, it was easy enough to just notice her still as 'Fleur'.

Fleur, however, was having trouble, it seemed. Hermione had opted for a muggle swimsuit design, and for the first time, she'd gotten a two piece to wear, now that she had the curves to fill it. Hermione wouldn't consider her suit immodest, but she flushed with the way Fleur's eyes lingered over her in her bikini, her gaze heated when she met Hermione's again.

"You should warn a girl, Hermione," Fleur had commented the first time she'd seen Hermione in her suit, her eyes lingering and dark with promise. "It would be impolite of me to ravish you in front of your parents."

Hermione had flushed a brilliant pink and stammered some answer, making Fleur laugh in response, but the idea of Fleur ravishing her had taken a while to fade from her mind.

Nice was a delightful city in itself. Fleur had visited Nice regularly over the summers, and she seemed to know the best hidden gems scattered around the city. Hermione enjoyed walking the cobblestone streets with Fleur, buying ice cream and crêpes from street vendors as she went, often pausing to watch the mimes.

"How do they do that?" Hermione asked enviously, watching a golden pirate stand very still, only animating when someone came up to give him a tip. "I could never be so still."

"I think it is a state of mind," Fleur said, observing. "Meditative, almost. Like a muggle reaching for wherever their magic would be and settling there, quiet."

Whatever the trick was, many in Nice seemed to have it mastered. Not only did Hermione see the gold pirate, but also a silver tin man, a patinaed statue in a goddess dress, and a woman who had painted herself with a black that looked almost like oil with the way it shone with rainbow colors across her skin.

Some nights, Fleur dined with the Grangers, which was enjoyable and relaxed. One night, Hermione dined with the Delacours, finally properly meeting Fleur's father, Leonard Delacour. He was rather shorter than his wife Apolline, with black hair and a pointed black beard, but he was kind and good-natured, and Hermione felt very welcome at their table in short order. Gabrielle pouted and was upset she didn't know enough English to talk to Hermione very well, and Hermione did her best to muddle through polite questions in French to Gabrielle to help her feel included. Fleur and her family had been amused at her attempts, but Gabrielle's eyes had lit up at being included, babbling happily back at Hermione in French that Hermione could only half understand.

Evenings, though, were reserved for the walking the beach barefoot with Fleur, holding hands and watching the sunset, talking quietly and sharing hopes and dreams and secrets, and kissing on the beach as the stars came out.

It was all very romantic, in Hermione's mind. A summer romance on the beach was the stuff of racy novels, she knew, and it was thrilling to indulge in it while she could. She was well aware that she was being swept up in the drama and emotion of it all, but it was hard to care – Fleur was fun to be around, she was charming, and Hermione found herself ignoring the rational part of her mind more and more. She was a teenager – she was practically expected to get swept up in teenage romances and get her heart eventually broken, wasn't she?

With Fleur at her side, the rest of the holiday for Hermione was like a perfect dream.

The last night of Hermione's trip, Fleur told Hermione she intended on taking her out to dinner at a very fancy exclusive French place. It was clear it was to be a proper date, and a very adult and mature type of date at that. Thrilled and nervous, Hermione wore her Mulberry silk robes, having managed to tailor them herself, and when she came out to meet her, Fleur's eyes had widened, then softened in appreciation and affection.

"Tu es si belle," she murmured, pressing a kiss to Hermione's hairline. "Allons-y."

The restaurant's seating was on a balcony, overseeing the city as the sun faded and the city lit up, the stars winking softly in the sky. Hermione had scallops for dinner, which were delicious, while Fleur told her stories of adventures she'd gotten into at Beauxbatons over the years, making her laugh. Fleur was captivating like this, relaxed, confident, and in her element. Her hair shone in the candlelight, and her soft rose robes complimented her coloring and highlighted her collarbone and long neck. Fleur's eyes were sparkling all the time, vibrant, and Hermione couldn't stop smiling, her heart warm.

After the meal, when the waiter served them both coffee, Fleur reached out and took Hermione's hand.

"I have something for you," she murmured, her blue eyes on hers. "If you want it."

"Oh, Fleur…" Hermione shook her head. "You didn't need—"

"I wanted to." Fleur's eyes were intent. "Here."

A short rectangular box was pushed across the table toward Hermione, the box covered in a black velvet. There were hinges on the back of the box, and Hermione's eyes flew back up to Fleur's as she swallowed hard, her eyes wide.

"Fleur…?" Her voice was a whisper.

Fleur's eyes glowed. "Open it."

Careful to keep her hands from shaking, Hermione opened the box and gasped.

In the box sat a beautiful jeweled butterfly, about the length of her hand. It looked to be made of silver or white gold, with small light blue gemstones edging wings that flared out to beautiful marbled blue enamel patterns. The body was composed of four deep sapphires of varying sizes, their deep blue drawing in the light, with smaller sapphires on the ends of two delicately curled antennae.

"Fleur…"

Hermione carefully pulled the butterfly from the box, speechless. On the back of the butterfly was a hair clip, truly made of silver this time, and a different backing for a brooch was in the box as well, so the piece could be worn multiple ways. Her eyes returned to Fleur's, and she felt like she was shaking.

"This…" Hermione couldn't find the words. "This is jewelry, Fleur."

Fleur's lips twitched up. "It is."

"This is… this is a courting gift, Fleur," Hermione said. Her eyes couldn't stop staring at the beautiful clip. "Or is it more? What counts as 'bright' jewelry?"

"Generally diamonds or fiery opals," Fleur dismissed. "This is aquamarines and sapphires – it would not count as bright."

"Oh." Hermione was still blinking down at the gift. "But… it still counts as jewelry, Fleur."

"Yes." Fleur seemed amused. "It does."

"What does that mean?" Hermione wanted to know. Her voice was pained. "Fleur, I have to leave tomorrow. Why are you giving me this? Why are you giving me this now?"

Fleur's eyes softened, and she gave Hermione a soft smile.

"A gift of courting intent does not necessarily mean one is actively courting another," Fleur said, her smile lingering on her lips. "Merely that one would pay the other suit. And accepting such a gift and wearing it, that indicates that one would accept such a suit, were it paid."

Fleur took Hermione's hand in hers, squeezing it.

"I cannot date you now, Hermione," Fleur told her, her eyes on hers. "But I want you to know that if I could, I would."

Hermione was speechless. Fleur's lips quirked up slightly.

"Perhaps a bit overdramatic, yes?" she asked. "It is the Veela way. It is the French way, perhaps, to be so… so effusive, with gestures, with emotions, yes?"

"So… you're not courting me," Hermione said, her voice wavering, "but if I stayed in France, you would. And this… this honors me, like you would if you were courting me…?"

"Exactement. Because you deserve it. And I want to." Fleur's eyes went back to Hermione's, and she squeezed her hand. "It might be a bit much, yes. But Hermione… I want you to have this, to remember me."

"Fleur…" Hermione's voice was torn, and she felt like she might cry. "Fleur, it's not like I'd ever forget you."

"Take this, and wear it at home," Fleur urged her. "Wear this, and feel beautiful, and know that there is one across the water who misses you."

"And wearing it… that means that I would accept your suit?" Hermione asked. "If you did want to court me? And then we'd be officially courting?"

Fleur's lips quirked.

"Only if I could see it," she said. "Which is not likely, across the Channel from you."

Hand vibrating, Hermione picked up the clip again, before offering it to Fleur with a shaky smile.

"Put it on me? Just for tonight?" she asked, blinking rapidly. "It looks much better when you do it."

Fleur's eyes danced and sparkled. "It would be my pleasure."

Hermione scooched her chair over to hers and turned around in her seat, sitting very still as Fleur combed her hands through her hair, gently removing the transfigured clip Hermione had worn. She smoothed Hermione's hair out before beginning to pull parts of it back again.

"I should take you at your word," Hermione teased, her voice shaky. "Transfer to Beauxbatons and make you pay me court in front of all your classmates."

"Do you think I would not do it?" Fleur asked. Her voice was amused as her fingers danced in Hermione's hair. "One reason I give you this, is so you might come back and see me again. I would pay you court now or then." Jeweled clip firmly secured in place, Fleur pressed a kiss to Hermione's neck. "You set my life alight, Hermione. I have never before met one such as you."

Hermione's smile was shaky as she looked back at Fleur, her hand in Fleur's resting on the table, squeezing Fleur's back tightly. Fleur's eyes were soft but understanding, and Hermione felt both overwhelmed and somehow calm.

She was barely fourteen, she knew, and Fleur only recently sixteen. First loves were supposed to be overwhelming and intense, the kind to be looked back on fondly and softly no matter what happened in the future. She and Fleur might both go separate ways, finding partners and adventures worlds apart and never seeing each other again. But even if they did, Hermione would always be able to look back on this gift and smile, remembering enchanted evenings with Fleur on the beaches of France.

Hermione's heart settled, and she finally managed a true smile back at Fleur.

"Will you write?" she asked. "I'd like to keep in touch, if we can."

Fleur's answer smile was soft, affectionate.

"Of course," she said. "This is not adieu, Hermione. This is merely à bientôt."