10

The room was still dimly lit, the enchanted lamps casting soft golden hues over the living room. Hermione lay curled up against Fleur, her head resting on the blonde's shoulder as she trailed absentminded fingers along Fleur's collarbone. The tension that had gripped her for weeks had melted away in the heat of their passion, replaced by a quiet contentment she hadn't realized she'd been craving.

Fleur's arm was draped around Hermione's waist, her hand resting lightly on her hip. Her sharp blue eyes stared at the ceiling, her face serene but thoughtful. Hermione could feel the steady rise and fall of Fleur's chest beneath her cheek, and for a moment, she let herself simply enjoy the closeness, the quiet intimacy of their shared space.

But the thoughts Hermione had been avoiding for weeks pressed forward, insistent now. She couldn't let this moment pass without addressing the question that had been building inside her.

"Fleur," Hermione began softly, lifting her head to meet the blonde's gaze. "What do you want from this? From us?"

Fleur's expression softened, and she tilted her head slightly, her silver-blonde hair cascading over her shoulder. "I think the question is what do you want?"

""I... I think I want to be with you. Properly. Hermione said, her voice trembling slightly

Fleur's sharp blue eyes searched Hermione's face, her expression unreadable for a moment. Then, with a soft sigh, she cupped Hermione's cheek, her thumb brushing gently against her skin.

"Hermione," Fleur said softly, her voice steady but laced with an underlying tenderness, "you must know that I want this. that I want you."

Hermione's breath hitched, her heart fluttering at the words.

"My feelings for you have grown, I wont lie" Fleur continued, her gaze unwavering. "But this is not something I can decide for you," Fleur said firmly, her tone cool but not unkind. "You must think about what you want—truly. Not out of guilt, not out of obligation, but because it is what you feel in your heart. Take your time, ma chère. I will not rush you."

Hermione nodded slowly, her throat tightening with emotion. "Thank you," she said softly, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to Fleur's lips.

Fleur kissed her back, her hand sliding to rest against the back of Hermione's neck. When they pulled apart, Fleur offered her a faint smile, though there was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.

"Whatever you choose," Fleur said quietly, "I want you to be happy."


The next few days passed in a haze of introspection for Hermione. She avoided Viktor, needing the space to think clearly. Fleur, meanwhile, maintained her composure, giving Hermione the space she needed. She threw herself into her work at Gringotts, burying her thoughts beneath piles of ancient tomes and cursed artifacts. But even as she kept herself busy, the lingering uncertainty weighed heavily on her.

The situation with Margot didn't help.

Margot's letters had grown more frequent and erratic, her tone swinging wildly between anger and desperation. Fleur ignored most of them, but Ginny, who had intercepted one of the more volatile letters, was growing increasingly concerned.

"This is getting out of hand," Ginny said one evening, tossing the latest crumpled letter onto the kitchen table.

Fleur glanced at it briefly, her expression impassive. "It is nothing I cannot handle," she said coolly, sipping her tea.

"It doesn't seem like nothing," Ginny countered, crossing her arms.

"You are overreacting" Fleur replied, her tone steady but edged with finality.

Ginny shot a glance at Hermione, who was sitting at the counter with her own mug of tea. "Hermione, back me up here. This is concerning, right?"

Hermione frowned, her brow furrowing as she looked between them. "I think... Ginny might have a point," she admitted. "What if she doesn't stop?"

Fleur's gaze flickered briefly, but her icy facade remained firmly in place. "She is angry now, but it will pass. It always does."

"That's not exactly reassuring," Ginny muttered, shaking her head.

Fleur's lips curved into a faint smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. "I appreciate your concern, truly. But this is not the first time someone has become like this. You have to relax, she is harmless"

Ginny opened her mouth to argue, but Hermione placed a hand on her arm, giving her a subtle shake of the head. Ginny sighed, clearly frustrated, but didn't press further.

After Ginny left the room, Hermione turned to Fleur, her expression troubled. "Are you really okay?"

"I am fine," Fleur said evenly, though her gaze softened slightly as she looked at Hermione. "Do not worry about me, ma chère. Focus on what you need to do."

Hermione nodded, though the weight of Fleur's words—and her own indecision—hung heavy in the air between them.


Fleur sat at her desk in the Gringotts office, the quiet hum of magical wards and distant chatter creating a cocoon of order around her.

But that control shattered the moment the door opened without a knock.

Margot stepped into the room, her red hair catching the light like a warning flare. Fleur froze mid-sentence, her quill hovering above the parchment she'd been working on. Margot's presence here, in this sanctum of hers, was a violation Fleur hadn't prepared for.

"Margot," Fleur said, her voice as cold and sharp as the edge of a blade. "What are you doing here?"

"I needed to talk to you," Margot said, closing the door behind her without being invited. "You've ignored my letters, my attempts to reach you—"

"Because there is nothing left to say," Fleur interrupted, rising to her feet. Her sharp blue eyes bore into Margot's, a storm brewing behind them.

Margot took a step forward, her hands clenched at her sides. "You don't get to decide that, Fleur! You ended things without a real explanation, without giving me a chance to—"

"Enough!" Fleur's voice was low but commanding, reverberating with authority. She rounded the desk, putting herself between Margot and the rest of the office. "You have crossed a line, Margot. Coming here, to my workplace, is unacceptable."

Margot faltered, the fire in her eyes flickering with uncertainty. "I just wanted to talk. To understand."

"Understand what?" Fleur snapped, her voice laced with venom. "That I do not want to be with you?"

Margot recoiled as if struck, her lips trembling before she pressed them into a tight line. "You're cruel," she whispered, her voice breaking slightly.

"No," Fleur said coldly, her arms crossing over her chest. "I am honest. Leave, Margot. Now."

For a moment, Margot didn't move, her gaze darting around the room as if searching for a reason to stay. But Fleur's unyielding stare left no room for argument.

Finally, Margot turned, her shoulders stiff as she walked to the door. She paused with her hand on the handle, her voice low and bitter. "This isn't over, Fleur."

Fleur didn't respond, waiting until the door clicked shut before exhaling sharply. Her hands trembled slightly as she returned to her desk, but she clenched them into fists, willing herself to regain control.

A few days later, the quiet of the flat was broken by an unexpected knock at the door. Ginny, who had been lounging on the couch, looked up in confusion. "Are we expecting someone?" she called to Hermione, who was in the kitchen.

"No," Hermione replied, wiping her hands on a towel as she walked toward the door.

When she opened it, her breath caught. Margot stood on the doorstep, her red hair wild around her face, her green eyes dark and intense.

"Is Fleur here?" Margot asked, her voice tight.

Hermione's heart raced, unease creeping up her spine. "No, she's not," she said carefully. "Can I help you with something?"

Margot's gaze flickered to Ginny, who had stood and was now watching from the living room, her expression wary. "I need to speak to Fleur," Margot said, stepping forward as if to enter.

Hermione quickly moved to block the doorway, her voice firm but calm. "I think it's best if you leave, Margot."

"I'm not leaving," Margot said, her voice rising slightly. "Not until Fleur comes back."

Ginny shot Hermione a concerned look, her hand subtly reaching for her wand. "Why don't you send her an owl instead?" Ginny suggested, trying to keep her tone light. "I'm sure she'll get back to you."

"An owl?" Margot snapped, her frustration boiling over. "She hasn't responded to anything I've sent! She's been ignoring me for weeks!"

Hermione stepped forward, her voice soft but firm. "Margot, I understand you're upset, but this isn't the way to handle it. Please, just—"

"Don't patronize me!" Margot shouted, her voice echoing in the hallway. "You have no idea what this feels like!"

Ginny, now visibly alarmed, held tight her magical ring she kept to alert in case of emergencies—a gift from Harry. When holding it for some time it would send the alert.

"Fleur will be back soon," Hermione said carefully, her hands raised slightly as if to pacify Margot. "But you can't stay here. Please."

Margot's eyes flicked between them, her breathing ragged. "I'll wait," she said, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall beside the door.

Hermione and Ginny exchanged uneasy glances, both of them tense and unsure of how to proceed.

It wasn't long before Fleur arrived, flanked by Harry and Ron. The tension in the hallway was palpable as Fleur stepped forward, her sharp blue eyes locking onto Margot.

"What are you doing here?" Fleur demanded, her voice low and icy.

Margot straightened, her defiance faltering slightly under Fleur's gaze. "I needed to see you," she said, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation. "You owe me a conv—"

"I owe you nothing," Fleur interrupted, her voice cutting through the air like a blade.

Harry and Ron remained a step behind Fleur, their wands at the ready but not drawn. "Lady" Harry said calmly, addressing Margot. "I think it's time for you to leave."

Margot's eyes darted to him, then back to Fleur. "Is this what you do?" she spat. "Have other people handle your problems for you?"

Fleur stepped closer, her posture radiating authority. "Enough," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "You are not welcome here. Leave now, or there will be consequences."

Margot's jaw clenched, her hands trembling at her sides. For a moment, Hermione thought she might lash out, but instead, Margot turned on her heel and stormed away, her footsteps echoing down the corridor.

As the door closed behind her, Fleur exhaled sharply, her shoulders relaxing slightly.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked, stepping closer to Fleur.

"I am fine," Fleur said curtly, though her expression betrayed a flicker of weariness.

Ginny frowned, glancing at Harry and Ron. "Do you think she'll come back?"

"If she does, I will handle it," Fleur said firmly, her sharp blue eyes meeting Ginny's.

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but the look on Fleur's face silenced her. She nodded reluctantly, though the unease in her chest didn't subside.


The next few weeks passed in an uneasy quiet, the tension surrounding Margot seemingly dissipating. After her outburst at Fleur's flat and one last attempt to speak with her at Gringotts, Margot appeared to have taken Fleur's firm dismissal to heart. She stopped sending letters, stopped making surprise appearances.

Fleur, for her part, allowed herself to relax slightly as the days passed without incident.

It was on an otherwise uneventful afternoon at Gringotts that Fleur found the box.

She was in her office, poring over a series of cursed artifacts that had been recovered from an ancient tomb, when a small, neatly wrapped package appeared on her desk. The box was elegant—black with gold accents, tied with a velvet ribbon. Fleur frowned slightly as she picked it up, her sharp blue eyes scanning it for any indication of its sender.

Tucked beneath the ribbon was a simple note: A treat for you.

Fleur's heart skipped a beat, her mind immediately jumping to Hermione. Her lips curved into a faint smile, and she unwrapped the package carefully. Inside was an assortment of decadent chocolates, their glossy surfaces gleaming under the office's enchanted lights. Fleur selected one—a delicate truffle dusted with gold powder—and popped it into her mouth.

The rich, bittersweet flavor melted on her tongue, and for a moment, she allowed herself to savor it, the tension in her shoulders easing as she leaned back in her chair. Fleur finished the chocolate, setting the box aside as she returned to her work.

That evening, she returned to the flat, her usual poise intact. Ginny and Hermione were sitting on the couch, a stack of Ministry reports and Quidditch schedules between them. Fleur offered them a polite nod as she set down her bag.

Hermione glanced at her, her chest tightening as she took in Fleur's serene expression. She wanted to talk to Fleur, to tell her about her plans to end things with Viktor, but the guilt still gnawed at her. She hadn't found the right moment—or the courage—to do it.