8

Their bodies were still tangled together, their skin warm and damp from exertion as their passion continued to consume them several times during the night. Hermione could barely move, her limbs heavy and her mind hazy. She had never felt anything like this before—this deep, all-consuming pleasure that left her utterly spent yet completely at peace. Every nerve in her body still tingled, and her breathing was uneven, catching slightly as she tried to calm her racing heart.

Fleur's hand moved lazily along Hermione's back, her fingers tracing gentle patterns on her skin. She was equally exhausted, her chest rising and falling steadily beneath Hermione. The silence between them was thick but not uncomfortable, filled with the kind of intimacy that didn't need words.

Eventually, Hermione broke the quiet, her voice muffled against Fleur's neck. "I think you've ruined me," she said, her tone a mix of awe and disbelief.

Fleur chuckled softly, the sound low and melodic. "Ruin you? Non, ma chère. I have simply shown you what you deserve."

Hermione groaned, burying her face deeper into Fleur's neck. "How are you so confident all the time? It's infuriating."

"Practice," Fleur replied smoothly, her fingers sliding into Hermione's messy hair. She tilted her head slightly, pressing a kiss to Hermione's temple. "But even I must admit, this... tonight... was different."

Hermione shifted slightly, propping herself up on one elbow so she could look down at Fleur. "Different how?"

Fleur hesitated for the briefest of moments, her sharp blue eyes searching Hermione's face. "It was... better," she admitted, her voice softening.

Hermione's cheeks flushed at the admission, but she didn't look away. Instead, she leaned down, capturing Fleur's lips in a soft, lingering kiss that sent another shiver through her. Fleur responded immediately, her hands sliding up Hermione's back, pulling her closer.

What started as a gentle kiss quickly deepened, their exhaustion melting away as desire flared between them once more.

Fleur sat up and moved Hermione and herself from the couch to the floor, her eyes dark with lust as she positioned herself above Hermione, one knee on either side of her hips. Hermione watched, her chest heaving, as Fleur lowered herself down, their wet centers pressing together in a slow, deliberate and wet grind.

The friction was exquisite, a molten heat that spread through Hermione's entire body. She grabbed at Fleur's hips, urging her to move faster, harder, as the pressure built inside her. Fleur complied, her movements becoming more erratic, more urgent, as she sought her own release.

Their moans filled the room, mingling with the sound of skin against skin, until neither could hold back any longer. Hermione came first, crying out as her body convulsed with pleasure, waves of ecstasy washing over her. Fleur followed moments later, her climax ripping through her with such intensity that she collapsed on top of Hermione, their bodies slick with sweat and trembling with the aftershocks.

For a long while, they lay there, tangled together, their breathing gradually slowing as they came down from their highs. Fleur shifted slightly, rolling onto her side next to Hermione, her hand still resting possessively on her hip.

They remained there for hours utterly spent. Hermione rested her head on Fleur's chest, listening to the steady beat of her heart as their breathing slowly evened out. She felt a deep, bone-deep satisfaction, her body and mind humming with contentment.

"I don't think I can move," Hermione murmured, her voice heavy with exhaustion.

"Then do not," Fleur replied, her hand lazily stroking Hermione's arm. "Stay here."

Hermione smiled faintly, her eyes drifting closed. For a while, neither of them spoke, simply enjoying the quiet closeness. But as the haze of pleasure began to fade, Hermione's thoughts started to turn, unease creeping in around the edges.

"Fleur," she said softly, lifting her head to meet Fleur's gaze.

"Oui?" Fleur's voice was calm, but the faint crease in her brow betrayed her concern.

"What does this mean?" Hermione asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "For us?"

Fleur hesitated, her sharp blue eyes studying Hermione carefully. She could sense the worry in Hermione's tone, the way her mind was already overanalyzing everything that had happened between them tonight. Fleur's own thoughts were conflicted—this had been incredible, and yet she knew the dangers of complicating things too quickly.

"This does not have to mean anything right now," Fleur said finally, her voice soft but firm. "We do not need to put a label on it. We can leave it as tonight—something beautiful, something shared—and continue as we are. Or this can turn into something more, if that is what you wish"

Hermione's brow furrowed. "But what about Viktor? And Margot?"

Fleur sighed, her fingers tracing absent patterns on Hermione's arm. "That does not have to change. You can continue seeing Viktor, and I will continue with Margot. this does not have to become anything new or complex unless you want it to."

Hermione looked away, her thoughts racing. "I don't want to ruin our friendship," she said quietly.

"Nor do I," Fleur replied, her tone gentle. She reached up, cupping Hermione's cheek and turning her face back to hers. "You are important to me, Hermione. I would never let this ruin what we have. But I also will not pretend that this—what we shared—was not special."

Hermione swallowed hard, her chest tightening at the sincerity in Fleur's voice. "So what do we do?" she asked.

"We do whatever makes you feel comfortable," Fleur said simply. "If that means this is a one-time thing, then so be it. If you wish to see what happens, then we will see. I will follow your lead."

Hermione nodded slowly, her mind still swirling with uncertainty but comforted by Fleur's words. "I don't know what I want," she admitted softly.

"Then we take it one step at a time," Fleur said, her voice steady. "No pressure. No expectations. Just us."

Hermione exhaled deeply, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Thank you," she said, leaning down to press a soft kiss to Fleur's cheek.

Fleur returned the smile, though her heart ached slightly. She had spoken the truth—she didn't want to pressure Hermione or risk damaging their friendship. But deep down, she couldn't deny that tonight had meant more to her than she was willing to admit.

As Hermione settled back against her, drifting off to sleep, Fleur stared up at the ceiling, her thoughts a tangle of desire, hope, and uncertainty. For now, she would let things be.


The months that followed slipped by in a rhythm that felt almost ordinary on the surface. Hermione continued her work at the Ministry, balancing her cases with lunches and the occasional dinner with Viktor, who had been nothing but patient and attentive. Fleur threw herself into her projects at Gringotts, all while juggling her increasingly casual encounters with Margot.

But beneath the surface, nothing was ordinary.

Hermione and Fleur found themselves gravitating toward one another in ways neither of them acknowledged aloud. Their stolen moments alone, brief but intense, had grown in frequency and fervor.

One such moment came on a rainy Wednesday evening. Ginny had left for an overnight Quidditch match, and the flat was quiet save for the soft patter of rain against the windows. Fleur had returned late from work, her hair slightly damp from the drizzle, and found Hermione curled up on the couch, a book resting open in her lap.

"Long day?" Hermione asked, looking up as Fleur entered the room.

"Exhausting," Fleur replied, slipping off her heels and sinking into the armchair across from her. She let out a soft sigh, her head tilting back as she closed her eyes.

Hermione watched her for a moment, her chest tightening at the sight of Fleur. She set her book aside and stood, padding over to Fleur's chair. Without a word, she reached out and brushed a strand of damp hair from Fleur's face.

Hermione leaned in, her lips meeting Fleur's in a kiss that started soft but quickly deepened. Fleur responded immediately, her hands sliding up to cradle Hermione's face as she pulled her closer. The chair creaked slightly beneath them as Hermione shifted, straddling Fleur's lap without breaking the kiss.

The world outside faded, the rain a distant hum as their breaths mingled, their movements growing more urgent.

Hermione's body was filled with a hunger that ignited within her. A hunger to explore, to savor, to take. She turned her head slightly, catching Fleur's gaze, and for a moment, they simply stared at each other, their breaths mingling in the narrow space between them.

Without breaking eye contact, Hermione shifted, pressing Fleur gently onto her back. Fleur let out a soft, surprised laugh, her lips parting as if to speak, but Hermione didn't give her the chance. She leaned down, capturing Fleur's mouth in a kiss that was slow and deliberate. Fleur moaned softly into the kiss, her hands sliding up Hermione's arms to grip her shoulders, pulling her closer.

When Hermione finally pulled away, she didn't go far, she changed her position to one that allowed to explore Fleur easily. Her lips brushed against Fleur's jaw, then trailed down her neck, leaving a path of kisses that made Fleur arch into her. Hermione continued her exploration, her lips moving lower, leaving faint marks on Fleur's collarbone before gliding further down to her chest. Her hands followed, tracing the curves of Fleur's body with a reverence that made Fleur squirm beneath her, and undressing her in the process.

Her thumbs brushed over Fleur's nipples, already hardened from arousal, and Fleur gasped, her hips lifting off the couch. Hermione smiled against her skin, her touch growing firmer, more insistent. She circled one nipple with her thumb while her mouth descended on the other, her tongue swirling around it before sucking gently. Fleur's fingers tangled in Hermione's hair, holding her close as she let out a breathy moan.

"Hermione—" she started, but the rest of her words dissolved into a gasp as Hermione's hand slid down her stomach, her fingers brushing lightly through the dampness between her legs. Fleur's thighs instinctively parted, her entire body trembling with anticipation. Hermione lifted her head, meeting Fleur's eyes as her fingers dipped lower, stroking through the wetness gathered there.

"So wet" Hermione murmured, her voice thick with desire. She circled Fleur's entrance with her fingertips, teasing her, drawing another desperate whimper from Fleur's lips.

She kissed her way back up Fleur's body, stopping to nip at the tender skin of her inner thigh. Fleur shuddered, her legs spreading wider as if inviting Hermione closer. Taking the hint, Hermione kneeled, and settled between Fleur's thighs, her hands gripping her hips to hold her steady.

She pressed a kiss to the inside of Fleur's thigh, her lips soft and warm against her sensitive skin. Then she moved higher, her breath ghosting over Fleur's core. Fleur whimpered, her hands fisting the arms of the chair as she tried to control her breathing. Hermione glanced up, her eyes dark with lust, and met Fleur's gaze. "Look at me," she said, her voice firm but gentle.

Fleur obeyed, her blue eyes wide and pleading as she watched Hermione lower her head. The first touch of Hermione's tongue was electric, sending a jolt of pleasure through Fleur's body. Her back arched, a loud moan escaping her lips as Hermione licked her slowly, savoring the taste of her. Hermione's hands tightened on Fleur's hips, holding her in place as she explored her with her tongue, alternating between long, slow strokes and quick, flickering movements that made Fleur tremble.

"Oh, mèrde—" Fleur gasped, her hips bucking involuntarily. Hermione chuckled softly, the vibrations making Fleur cry out again. She tightened her grip on Fleur's hips, slowing her movements, forcing Fleur to endure every agonizingly pleasurable second.

She slid a finger through Fleur's wetness, circling her entrance before pushing inside, slow and steady. Fleur's nails dug into the chair, her body clenching around Hermione's finger as she struggled to catch her breath. Hermione added a second finger, curling them slightly to press against Fleur's sweet spot. Fleur let out a strangled moan, her head thrashing from side to side as pleasure surged through her.

Hermione's mouth returned to her, her tongue working in tandem with her fingers, drawing cries and gasps from Fleur with every movement. Fleur's thighs tightened around Hermione's head, her hips rolling desperately against her face. Hermione curled her fingers deeper, her tongue pressing firmly against Fleur's clit. That was all it took. Fleur cried out, her body convulsing as waves of pleasure crashed over her. Hermione kept going, drawing out her climax until Fleur's legs were shaking, her hands clutching at Hermione's hair as she rode out the last few tremors of her orgasm.

Finally, Hermione slowed, lifting her head to look up at Fleur, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Hermione wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, a satisfied smirk playing on her lips. "Have I learned?" she asked, her voice dripping with mischief.

Fleur laughed breathlessly, her eyes fluttering open to meet Hermione's. "You always were at the top of the class" she said. She reached out, her fingers brushing against Hermione's cheek. "Come here."

Hermione crawled up and straddle her again, Fleur immediately pulled her into a deep, hungry kiss. Their bodies pressed together, the heat of their shared passion reigniting instantly for both.


A few weeks later, Hermione found herself walking through Diagon Alley with Viktor. The crisp autumn air carried the faint scent of roasted chestnuts from a nearby cart, and the streets bustled with witches and wizards going about their day.

Viktor was speaking animatedly about his upcoming match with the Tornadoes, his hands gesturing as he described a new maneuver he'd been practicing. Hermione nodded along, smiling when appropriate, but her mind felt distant.

She felt guilty.

Viktor was kind, generous, and attentive in a way she wasn't used to. He deserved her focus, her respect. And yet, her thoughts kept drifting to Fleur—Fleur's voice, Fleur's touch, the way Fleur looked at her like she was the only person in the world who mattered.

Fleur, meanwhile, had been seeing less and less of Margot. Their meetings, once filled with an easy, fiery passion, now felt strained, as if Fleur's heart wasn't in it anymore. She found herself avoiding Margot's letters, making excuses to delay their plans, and when they were together, her mind often wandered elsewhere, she could feel Margots growing feelings for her.

It wasn't fair, Fleur knew. Margot deserved more than half-hearted affection and distracted conversation. Fleur had decided she would end it soon.


It was late evening when Fleur met Margot in a small, tucked-away wine bar near Charing Cross Road some days later. The kind of place that Margot loved—chic and intimate, with low lighting and soft jazz playing in the background. Fleur had chosen it deliberately, knowing that the familiarity of the setting might ease the inevitable tension.

Margot arrived dressed impeccably, as always, her fiery hair cascading over one shoulder. She greeted Fleur with a kiss on each cheek, her sharp green eyes lighting up as she slipped into the seat across from her.

"I was surprised to hear from you," Margot said, her voice light but carrying a hint of curiosity. "You've been so... distant lately."

Fleur inclined her head, her poise as polished as ever. "I thought we should talk," she said simply, her tone calm but measured.

Margot's smile faltered slightly, a shadow of uncertainty crossing her face. "That doesn't sound good."

Fleur sighed softly, her fingers tracing the rim of her wine glass. She had rehearsed this conversation in her mind a dozen times, but now that the moment was here, the words felt heavier than she expected.

"Margot," Fleur began, her sharp blue eyes meeting the redhead's. "You are a wonderful woman. Beautiful, intelligent, confident. But..."

"There it is," Margot interrupted, her smile fading entirely now. "The 'but.'"

Fleur nodded, her expression softening. "But my heart is not in this. I would be lying to you—and to myself—if I pretended otherwise."

Margot stared at her, her jaw tightening. "You're breaking up with me."

"Oui," Fleur said quietly, her voice steady but tinged with regret.

Margot leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. "Is this about someone else?"

Fleur hesitated, her lips pressing together for a moment before she shook her head. "This is about us. It is not fair to you to stay in something where my feelings are... incomplete."

Margot's eyes narrowed, her voice sharp now. "You're not answering my question."

Fleur's gaze didn't waver, but she remained silent. Margot let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "It is about someone else, isn't it? I should've known."

"That is not the point," Fleur said firmly, her composure intact despite the rising tension. "The point is that you deserve better than half of someone's heart. And I cannot give you what you deserve."

Margot glared at her for a long moment before standing abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor and walking out, leaving Fleur alone at the table.

Fleur sat back, exhaling deeply as she stared at the half-empty glass of wine in front of her. The sharp sting of Margot's words lingered, but she knew she had done the right thing. She couldn't let herself lead Margot on any longer, not when her thoughts—and her heart—were so tangled up elsewhere.


Meanwhile, Hermione's relationship with Viktor was progressing, though not in the way she had hoped. She had spent the last few weeks trying to convince herself that what she felt for Fleur was fleeting, a passing curiosity that would fade with time. To quiet the guilt that gnawed at her, she threw herself into her time with Viktor, trying to focus and reciprocate his affection.

But as their physical relationship deepened, the guilt only grew.

It wasn't that Hermione didn't enjoy being with Viktor, but every kiss, every touch, felt tinged with guilt. Guilt for not reciprocating his feelings in the slightest, for acting out of obligation and guilt for what she was doing with Fleur.

Viktor, for his part, was blissfully unaware. He was happier than ever, his dark eyes lighting up whenever he saw her. "I think I am falling for you" he had said one evening after a particularly tender moment, his voice filled with quiet sincerity.

Hermione had smiled and kissed him again, trying to ignore the hollow ache in her chest.

Fleur waited a few days before telling Hermione about the breakup with Margot. It was late one evening, the flat dimly lit as Hermione sat at the kitchen table, scribbling notes for a particularly complex case. Fleur entered the room quietly, a glass of water in her hand as she leaned against the counter, her expression calm but thoughtful.

"Did Margot leave her scarf here?" Hermione asked absently, glancing up briefly and holding a gray scarf on her hand.

"Oui, that is hers" Fleur replied, her tone soft. "but she will not be leaving anything here anymore."

"What do you mean?"

Fleur took a sip of her water before answering. "I ended it," she said simply, her sharp blue eyes meeting Hermione's.

Hermione's brow furrowed slightly, her gaze searching Fleur's face. "Why?"

Fleur shrugged elegantly, though her fingers tightened slightly around the stem of her glass. "Because it was the right thing to do," she said. "I could not give her what she deserved. It would not have been fair."

Hermione set her quill down, her chest tightening as Fleur's words sank in. "Was it because of me?"

Fleur hesitated, her gaze flickering for just a moment. "Partly," she admitted. "But I did it mostly because it was the right thing to do"

Hermione swallowed hard, her hands curling into fists beneath the table. "What does that mean?"

Fleur smiled faintly, though there was a sadness in her eyes. "That my heart is not with her. But do not worry, ma chère," she said quickly, her voice softening. "I do not expect anything from you. I did this for her, not for me."

Hermione nodded slowly, though her thoughts were a chaotic mess. She wanted to ask more, to push for answers, to understand Fleur's feelings for her, but she held back, unsure of what she even wanted to hear.

Fleur moved to sit across from her, her poise unshaken as she placed her glass on the table. "This does not have to change anything," she said, her voice calm but firm. "We can continue as we are. No pressure, no expectations. Just... what feels right."

Hermione exhaled deeply, her chest aching with the weight of everything unsaid. "I don't know what feels right anymore," she admitted softly.

"Then we take it one day at a time," Fleur said simply, her voice steady. "That is all we can do."

Hermione nodded, her eyes meeting Fleur's across the table. For the first time that evening, she allowed herself to smile, though it was small and uncertain. Fleur returned it, and for a moment, the world felt just a little less complicated.