The air in Gringotts was cool, almost clinical, the weight of the ancient marble pillars pressing down like silent sentinels guarding centuries of secrets. Hermione Granger stepped through the towering entrance, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floor, each step echoing with purpose. The war had changed many things, but she had always known that some transformations were inevitable—some necessary. Tonight, she wasn't here to unlock vaults or decipher runes. No, tonight, her target was far more intriguing.
Fleur Delacour's office was on the upper levels, a quiet sanctuary tucked away from the chaos of the goblins and their ceaseless clatter. Hermione had always admired how Fleur carried herself—poised, untouchable, a woman who seemed carved from stone and yet moved with the grace of a swan gliding across water. Perfect, Hermione thought, her lips curving into the faintest of smiles as she approached the door. A challenge worthy of the effort.
She knocked twice, the sound sharp and deliberate. Moments later, the door swung open, revealing Fleur in all her effortless elegance. Her platinum blonde hair cascaded over one shoulder, catching the golden light of the office's chandelier. She wore a tailored navy dress that hugged her figure without clinging, every inch of her radiating control.
"Hermione," Fleur greeted, her voice smooth as silk. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"
Hermione stepped inside, the scent of Fleur's perfume—something floral and subtle—wrapping around her like an invisible embrace. "Ministry business," she replied casually, though her gaze lingered a heartbeat too long on Fleur's face. "I needed your expertise on something. Thought it best to discuss it in person."
Fleur raised an eyebrow, her expression unreadable as she gestured toward the plush armchair opposite her desk. "Of course. Please, sit."
Hermione complied, crossing her legs as she settled into the chair, her posture relaxed but her eyes sharp. Fleur took her seat behind the desk, her movements fluid, her hands resting atop the polished wood. For a moment, silence stretched between them, heavy and thick, broken only by the distant hum of magic embedded in the bank's walls.
"So," Fleur began, her tone perfectly professional, "what is the Ministry requires of me?"
Hermione leaned forward slightly, her elbows resting on the edge of the desk. "It's about the security protocols we're implementing post-war. We need someone with your… particular skill set to consult on a few adjustments." Her words were measured, but there was an undercurrent in her voice, something that made Fleur's pulse hitch ever so slightly.
Fleur's fingers twitched, the barest flicker of movement that Hermione didn't miss. She masked it quickly, tilting her head as if considering the request. "And why me? Surely, there are others—"
"Because you're the best," Hermione interrupted smoothly, her tone laced with just enough admiration to make Fleur's cheeks flush faintly. "I trust your judgment implicitly. And…" She paused, her lips parting as if to say more before stopping herself, leaving the sentence hanging like an unfinished spell.
Fleur glanced at her, the corner of her mouth lifting in what might have been amusement and curiosity. "That is kind of you to say. But surely, you did not come all this way just to flatter me, non?"
Hermione chuckled softly, the sound low and inviting. "Can't it be both? Business and… personal interest?"
The room seemed to grow warmer, the air thickening as Fleur's composure wavered for the first time. She blinked, her lashes fluttering as if trying to dispel the sudden tension. "Personal interest?" she repeated.
Hermione didn't respond immediately. Instead, she stood and walked around the desk, her movements unhurried, deliberate. Fleur watched her, her breath quickening imperceptibly as Hermione came to a stop beside her. She stood close. Dangerously close.
"You know," Hermione said softly, her fingers brushing lightly against the back of Fleur's chair, "you've always fascinated me." Her words were a whisper, her breath ghosting over Fleur's ear, sending a shiver down her spine.
Fleur swallowed, her throat dry. "I… don't know what you mean," she murmured, though the words sounded hollow even to her own ears.
Hermione's hand moved, grazing Fleur's shoulder before sliding downward, her touch feather-light yet burning where it connected. "I think you do."
For a moment, Fleur froze, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts. What is happening? This is wrong. And yet, her body betrayed her, leaning ever-so-slightly into Hermione's touch as if drawn by an invisible force. She felt the heat pooling low in her, threatening to consume her.
Hermione's lips curved into a knowing smile as she leaned down, her breath warm against Fleur's neck. "You don't have to hide from me."
Fleur's eyes fluttered shut, her resolve crumbling piece by piece. She wanted to protest, to pull away, but the words died on her lips as Hermione's fingers traced a path along her jawline, tipping her chin upward. Their eyes met, and in that moment, Fleur knew she was lost.
Hermione's lips brushed hers, a tentative caress at first, testing the waters. When Fleur didn't pull away, when she let out the softest of sighs, Hermione deepened the kiss, her tongue sliding against Fleur's with a hunger that left no room for doubt. Fleur's hands, which had been gripping the edge of her desk, now reached up to tangle in Hermione's hair, pulling her closer.
The world outside ceased to exist, the office shrinking down to just the two of them. Fleur's heart pounded in her chest, her breath coming in short gasps as Hermione's hands explored her body with a confidence that left her trembling. Every touch, every kiss, was a deliberate act of seduction, designed to unravel her completely.
"What… what are you doing?" Fleur whispered, her voice barely audible as Hermione's lips trailed down her neck, peppering kisses along her collarbone.
Hermione paused, her eyes dark with desire as she looked up at Fleur. "Unleashing you" she replied simply before capturing her lips once more.
Hermione's hands moved with a deliberate slowness, the kind that made Fleur's breath hitch in her throat. Her fingers slid beneath the hem of Fleur's dress, brushing against the smooth skin of her thighs, teasing their way upward. The fabric whispered against Hermione's knuckles as she pushed it higher, exposing more of Fleur's trembling legs. Fleur's heart raced, her mind scrambling to hold onto some semblance of control, but Hermione's touch was relentless, intoxicating.
"Relax," Hermione murmured against Fleur's ear, her voice low and velvety, sending shivers down her spine. "You don't have to think"
Fleur's lips parted, a soft gasp escaping as Hermione's fingers finally reached the edge of her thin, lace underwear. Her touch was feather-light, tracing the delicate fabric before dipping beneath it, finding her already wet, already aching. Fleur's head fell back against the chair, her eyes fluttering shut as Hermione's fingers explored her with an almost clinical precision, slow circles and gentle strokes that had her curling her toes.
"You're so responsive," Hermione whispered, her breath hot against Fleur's neck.
Fleur couldn't reply, her voice caught somewhere between a moan and a plea. She gripped the arms of the chair, her nails digging into the leather as Hermione's fingers pressed deeper, curling inside her with a rhythm that left her gasping for air. Every movement was calculated, every shift of Hermione's hand designed to unravel her completely. Fleur's body arched instinctively, seeking more, needing more, but Hermione held her there, teetering on the edge.
"Do you like this?" Hermione asked, her tone casual, as if they were discussing the weather and not the fact that her fingers were buried deep within her sister-in-law. Fleur could only nod frantically, her breath coming in short, uneven pants. Hermione smirked, her free hand gripping Fleur's hip to steady her as she increased the pace, her fingers pumping faster, harder, until Fleur's moans filled the room.
The desk creaked faintly under the weight of their movements, but neither of them cared. Hermione leaned forward, her lips capturing Fleur's in a searing kiss, swallowing her cries as she brought her closer to the edge. Fleur's hips rocked against Hermione's hand, her desperation growing with every thrust. She was close—so close—and Hermione seemed to sense it, her thumb circling Fleur's clit with just the right amount of pressure.
When Fleur came, it was with a sharp cry muffled by Hermione's mouth, her body trembling uncontrollably as waves of pleasure washed over her. Hermione held her through it, her fingers slowing but not stopping, drawing out every last shuddering spasm until Fleur collapsed back into the chair, utterly spent.
For a moment, the only sound in the room was their heavy breathing. Fleur's chest rose and fell rapidly, her cheeks flushed, her hair disheveled. Hermione watched her with a satisfied smile, her gaze lingering on Fleur's parted lips, her glistening thighs, the way her body still twitched with the aftershocks of her orgasm.
Slowly, Hermione withdrew her hand, lifting her fingers to her mouth and licking them clean with a deliberate slowness that made Fleur's breath catch all over again. "You taste even better than I imagined," she said, her voice dripping with satisfaction.
Fleur's face burned, but she couldn't look away. She felt exposed, vulnerable in a way she never had before, and yet there was something undeniably thrilling about it. Hermione stood then, smoothing her skirt with a practiced ease, as if they hadn't just been entangled in one of the most intimate moments of Fleur's life.
"I'll be back," Hermione said, her tone casual but her eyes dark with promise. "Another Ministry visit, perhaps. We can… continue this discussion."
Fleur opened her mouth to protest, to say something—anything—but the words died on her lips as Hermione turned and walked toward the door. She paused just before leaving, glancing over her shoulder with a sly smile.
"Think about me until then."
And with that, she was gone, leaving Fleur alone in her office, her body still humming with sensation, her mind reeling. She stared at the closed door, her heart pounding in her chest, wondering what had just happened—and when Hermione would return.