7
After a long week of work, it was nice to be home, the flat was unusually quiet that evening, the warm hum of the muggle television that Hermione forced Ginny and Fleur to acquire when they moved in filling the silence as the second movie of the night flickered across the screen.
Hermione sat cross-legged on one end of the couch; her hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea. She was dressed in her favorite set of pajamas, a soft cotton tank top and matching shorts that had long since been stretched comfortably from frequent use. Fleur, seated at the other end, looked as poised as ever, her legs tucked neatly beneath her, though her calm exterior belied the turmoil beneath.
It had been weeks since they'd spent time like this, just the two of them. No Ginny bustling about with her relentless energy, no Margot, no Viktor—just the quiet simplicity of a shared evening. Fleur had agreed to Hermione's suggestion of a movie marathon with a faint air of indifference, though in truth, she had welcomed the idea and it was something that they used to do and enjoy together from time to time.
Fleur's sharp blue eyes flicked toward Hermione for what felt like the hundredth time, though she kept her movements subtle, careful. She couldn't stop herself. The soft fabric of Hermione's tank top clung to her figure, accentuating her chest and the curve of her shoulders, while the shorts revealed more of her legs than Fleur could handle seeing without consequence. It wasn't intentional, Fleur knew—Hermione was utterly oblivious to the effect she had—but that only made it worse.
Her gaze lingered longer than it should have, drifting to Hermione's chest as the flickering light of the screen cast faint shadows across her skin. Fleur's stomach tightened, her pulse quickening. She hated how easily her composure unraveled in Hermione's presence, how her thoughts betrayed her at every turn.
"Fleur?" Hermione's voice broke through her haze, drawing her attention back to her face.
"Oui?" Fleur replied smoothly, tilting her head as if nothing were amiss.
Hermione studied her for a moment, her brow furrowed slightly. "You've been awfully quiet. Are you bored?"
"Non," Fleur said, her voice calm but edged with faint amusement. "I am simply... observing."
"Observing?" Hermione repeated, arching an eyebrow.
"The movie," Fleur clarified, her lips curving into a faint smirk.
Hermione seemed satisfied with the answer and she didn't press further. Fleur exhaled quietly, willing herself to focus on the screen. But no matter how much she tried, her gaze kept drifting back to Hermione—her lips, her neck, the way her chest rose and fell with every breath.
By the time the credits rolled on the second movie, Fleur was certain she couldn't take another hour of this torture.
Hermione stretched, her arms reaching over her head as she let out a soft, contented sigh. Fleur's gaze darted to the way her tank top rode up slightly, revealing a sliver of skin at her waist. She clenched her jaw, willing herself to look away.
"Alright," Hermione said, settling back against the cushions, "what's next? Another movie or a break?"
"Whatever you wish," Fleur replied, her tone perfectly measured despite the turmoil inside her.
Hermione turned toward her, her expression thoughtful. There was a slight hesitation in her movements, as if she were considering something. Finally, she set her mug down on the coffee table and leaned back, her arms crossed loosely over her chest.
"Can I ask you something?" Hermione said, her voice quieter now, almost tentative.
"Of course," Fleur replied, tilting her head slightly, though her stomach twisted with sudden anticipation.
Hermione hesitated again, her gaze dropping to her hands for a moment before she looked back at Fleur. "Do you... find me attractive?"
The question hung in the air, heavy and charged. Fleur blinked, momentarily stunned, her carefully maintained composure slipping just enough to reveal a flicker of surprise.
"Pardon?" Fleur said, her voice softer now, though there was no mistaking the surprise in her gaze.
Hermione's cheeks flushed, but she held her ground. "I mean, you've... looked at me before. I've noticed."
Fleur's pulse quickened, her breath catching slightly.
"Oui," Fleur admitted, the word slipping from her lips before she could stop it. Her eyes locked with Hermione's, and for once, Fleur felt vulnerable, exposed. "I do find you attractive."
Hermione's lips parted slightly, and Fleur caught the faintest flicker of something in her expression—relief? Curiosity? Fleur couldn't quite place it.
"And do you like that I do?" Fleur asked, her voice lowering, her accent curling around the words like a caress, betraying her as whenever she was nervous.
Hermione hesitated, her gaze dropping for a moment before returning to Fleur's. Hermione's cheeks darkened further, and she shifted slightly under Fleur's gaze. "I just... I've been thinking about it for ages, since the party."
Fleur smirked faintly, though the vulnerability in her chest hadn't quite subsided. "Thinking about what?" she asked, her voice dropping even lower. Fleur leaned forward slightly, her sharp blue eyes narrowing as she studied Hermione intently.
"You," Hermione admitted, barely above a whisper.
Fleur's breath hitched, her composure faltering just slightly. She leaned back, her expression unreadable as she considered her next words. The air between them crackled with tension, unspoken but undeniable.
"And what is it you think, ma chère?" Fleur asked, her voice soft but deliberate, her eyes never leaving Hermione's.
Hermione swallowed hard, her lips parting as if to answer, but the words seemed caught in her throat. The room felt unbearably warm despite the quiet hum of the air conditioner, and the steady, piercing gaze of Fleur's blue eyes was making it impossible to think clearly.
"I don't know," Hermione admitted finally, her voice soft, almost uncertain. "I just—" She paused, fumbling for the right words. "I've noticed the way you look at me. And... I guess I've been wondering why."
Fleur tilted her head slightly, her smirk softening into something more contemplative. Her fingers traced the rim of her wine glass idly as she watched Hermione, her thoughts racing beneath her calm exterior. She had always been good at control, at maintaining the perfect balance between aloofness and intrigue. But Hermione—Hermione had a way of unbalancing her, of slipping beneath the icy facade Fleur had so carefully constructed.
"You are a beautiful woman," Fleur said finally, her voice low and deliberate. "Intelligent, confident, passionate. I would be lying if I said I did not notice."
Hermione's cheeks flushed deeper, and she looked away, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear in a nervous gesture. "I just never thought about you seeing me that way," she murmured.
"Why not?" Fleur asked, her tone soft but probing.
"Because we're friends," Hermione replied, her gaze darting back to Fleur. "I thought you saw me as just... Hermione. Just someone you live with."
Fleur's smirk returned, faint but unmistakable. "Oh, ma chère," she said, her voice almost teasing, "you underestimate yourself."Hermione's breath hitched at the way Fleur said it, her accent curling around the words like silk.
The silence that followed was heavy but not uncomfortable, the tension between them palpable. Fleur's gaze drifted again, unbidden, to the curve of Hermione's collarbone, the faint rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. She had spent weeks suppressing her desire, forcing herself to ignore the way her body reacted to Hermione's presence, but tonight, with no one else around, the walls she had built were beginning to crack.
"You still haven't answered my question," Fleur said, her voice breaking the quiet.
"Which one?" Hermione asked, her brow furrowing slightly.
"Do you like that I find you attractive?" Fleur asked, her tone softer now, more intimate.
Hermione hesitated, her lips pressing together as she searched for the truth in herself. Did she like it? The answer came to her more easily than she expected, and it terrified her.
"Yes," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.
Fleur's breath caught, and for the first time that evening, her composure slipped completely. She looked at Hermione as though seeing her for the first time, her sharp blue eyes softening with something deeper, more vulnerable. She regarded Hermione for a long moment, as though weighing her next words carefully.
"Why now?" Fleur asked, her voice low. "Why ask me these questions tonight, Hermione?"
Hermione hesitated, her thoughts swirling in chaotic loops. "I don't know," she said finally. "I just... I couldn't stop thinking about it."
"Curiosity, then," Fleur said, her smirk deepening. "Is that what this is? Or is it something more? Something you want?"
Hermione didn't answer, her silence speaking volumes as the tension between them grew heavier, almost unbearable. Fleur leaned forward again, her gaze dropping to Hermione's lips for the briefest of moments before returning to her eyes.
"I think you know what you want," Fleur said softly, her voice almost a whisper. "You just have to decide if you want to take it."
The words hung between them, a challenge and an invitation all at once. Hermione's chest rose and fell as she struggled to process the whirlwind of emotions coursing through her, her mind and heart at war. And Fleur, for once, allowed herself the smallest glimmer of hope, her icy facade cracking just enough to let a flicker of vulnerability shine through
Fleur's breath caught as Hermione leaned in, closing the distance between them. Their lips met in a slow, tentative kiss, gentle at first, but quickly deepening as Fleur took control. She cupped Hermione's face in her hands, tilting her head to deepen the angle, her tongue sliding against Hermione's in a deliberate, sensual motion. Hermione moaned softly, her hands instinctively reaching for Fleur's waist, pulling her closer.
Fleur's icy facade melted away, replaced by raw passion and desire. Fleur felt the months of desire undoing her in this moment. She kissed Hermione with a fervor that bordered on aggression, her teeth nipping at Hermione's lower lip, drawing another whimper from the brunette. Hermione surrendered completely, her body arching into Fleur's as her hands roamed over the blonde's slender frame.
Breaking the kiss, Fleur trailed her lips along Hermione's jawline, her breath hot against her skin. "You're beautiful," she murmured, her hands slipping beneath Hermione's top, fingers skimming over the soft curves of her waist. "So beautiful."
Hermione shuddered, her nails digging into Fleur's back as the blonde's hands moved higher, cupping her breasts through the fabric of her bra. Fleur smirked, her thumbs brushing over Hermione's nipples, eliciting a gasp. "Sensitive, aren't we?" she teased, her voice low and sultry.
"Fleur…" Hermione breathed, her head falling back as Fleur's lips found the hollow of her throat. She felt overwhelmed, consumed by the intensity of Fleur's touch, but she didn't want it to stop. Her hips rocked involuntarily, seeking friction, seeking more.
Fleur's hands moved to the hem of Hermione's shirt, tugging it upward. "Lift your arms," she instructed, her tone leaving no room for argument. Hermione obeyed, raising her arms as Fleur pulled the top over her head, tossing it aside. Her blue eyes darkened as they raked over Hermione's exposed torso, her gaze lingering on the swell of her breasts.
"Perfect," Fleur murmured, her hands returning to Hermione's chest, deftly unhooking her bra and letting it fall away. Hermione's breath hitched as Fleur's palms cupped her bare breasts, her thumbs circling her already hardened nipples. Fleur leaned down, capturing one nipple in her mouth, swirling her tongue around the sensitive peak while her fingers continued to tease the other.
Hermione cried out, her hands tangling in Fleur's silvery blonde hair as waves of pleasure rippled through her. "God, Fleur… please…"
Fleur lifted her head, her lips curling into a wicked smile. "Please what?" she asked, her voice dripping with mock innocence. "Tell me what you want, Hermione."
Hermione's cheeks burned, but the fire in Fleur's eyes gave her courage. "I want… I want you to touch me," she confessed, her voice trembling with need. "Everywhere."
Fleur's smile widened, her hands sliding down Hermione's sides to grip her hips. "As you wish," she purred, lifting Hermione effortlessly and laying her down on the couch. She hovered above her, her hair falling like a curtain around them as she lowered her lips to Hermione's neck, kissing and nibbling her way down to her collarbone.
Hermione's hands clung to Fleur's shoulders, her body writhing beneath her as Fleur's lips continued their descent. When Fleur's tongue flicked against her nipple, Hermione arched off the couch with a cry, her hips bucking involuntarily. Fleur chuckled darkly, wrapping her lips around the stiff peak and sucking gently, her hands roaming lower to unbutton Hermione's jeans.
With practiced ease, Fleur slid Hermione's shorts and panties down her legs, tossing them aside. She knelt between Hermione's thighs, her eyes gleaming with hunger as she surveyed the sight before her. Hermione's chest heaved, her skin flushed and glistening with sweat, her arousal evident in the way her legs parted, inviting Fleur closer.
"You're exquisite," Fleur breathed, her fingers tracing lazy circles on Hermione's inner thighs. "Do you trust me, Hermione?"
Hermione nodded, her eyes wide and pleading. "Yes."
Fleur's smile was both tender and predatory as she leaned down, her lips brushing against Hermione's most sensitive spot. Hermione gasped, her hands flying to Fleur's hair as the blonde's tongue plunged into her core, exploring her with expert precision.
The sensation was overwhelming, Hermione's hips rocking uncontrollably as Fleur worked her with relentless focus. Fleur's tongue flicked and circled, coaxing increasingly desperate sounds from Hermione's throat. Her hands gripped Hermione's hips, holding her steady as she feasted on her, driving her closer and closer to the edge.
"Fleur, I'm— oh god, I'm so close…" Hermione whimpered, her back arching as the pressure built within her. Fleur responded by intensifying her ministrations, her fingers joining her tongue, plunging into Hermione with rhythmic strokes.
The world seemed to dissolve around them, leaving only the two of them and the relentless rhythm of Fleur's movements. Hermione's body tightened, her muscles coiling like a spring before finally snapping, her orgasm crashing over her with breathtaking force. She cried out, her hands clutching Fleur's hair as waves of ecstasy washed through her, leaving her trembling and spent.
Fleur slowed her motions, gentling her touch as she helped Hermione ride out the aftershocks. She lifted her head, her chin slick with Hermione's essence, and gazed up at her with a satisfied smirk. "How was that?" she asked, her voice thick with desire.
Hermione could barely form words, her body still quivering with residual pleasure. "Incredible," she managed to breathe, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. This pleasure was unlike any other Hermione had ever felt before.
Fleur crawled up Hermione's body, her lips trailing kisses along the way until she reached her mouth. She kissed her deeply, letting Hermione taste herself on her tongue. Hermione moaned into the kiss, her hands gripping Fleur's back, pulling her closer.
By the time Fleur broke the kiss, Hermione was practically trembling with need all over again. Fleur's eyes glinted with mischief as she whispered, "We're just getting started."
Fleur's passion was overwhelming, her every touch a perfect balance of fervor and restraint, curated to take Hermione to reach maximum ecstasy over and over again. Hermione let herself be consumed by it.
Much later, the room was quiet again, the air still heavy but now with the warmth of shared intimacy. Fleur lay stretched out on the couch, her body languid and relaxed, a faint sheen of sweat glistening on her skin. Hermione was curled against her side, her head resting on Fleur's shoulder and her fingers tracing idle patterns across Fleur's arm.
Neither of them spoke at first, the silence thick but not uncomfortable. Hermione's mind swirled with everything that had just happened, her body still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure and the unfamiliar sensation of being so utterly undone. She felt raw and exposed but also safe, cocooned in the warmth of Fleur's presence.
Fleur broke the silence first, her voice soft but tinged with amusement. "You are very quiet, ma chère. Are you regretting this already?"
Hermione lifted her head slightly, her cheeks flushing as she met Fleur's gaze. "No," she said quickly, her voice firm despite her embarrassment. "Not at all."
Fleur's lips curved into a faint smile, her fingers brushing a strand of hair from Hermione's face. "Bon," she said simply, her tone carrying that natural confidence Hermione had always admired—and envied.
Hermione hesitated, then asked, "Is it... always like that with women?"
Fleur's smile widened slightly, her eyes glinting with mischief. "With women? Non. With me? Always."
Hermione rolled her eyes, though she couldn't help the small laugh that escaped her. "Of course you'd say that," she muttered, settling back against Fleur's shoulder.
Fleur chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against Hermione's cheek. Hermione closed her eyes, letting the quiet fall over them again. She didn't know what this meant—what they were now, or what would happen next—but for the moment, she didn't care. All she knew was that she didn't want to move, didn't want to leave the safe, intoxicating warmth of Fleur's arms.
