The night was heavy, suffocating almost, as Hermione stirred awake. Her body ached—a dull, persistent throb radiating from the scars crisscrossed along her arm. Bellatrix's laugh echoed in her mind, sharp and cruel. She clenched her fists, trying to will the memories away, but they clung to her like shadows. The others were asleep, their soft breaths filling the room with a rhythm that only deepened her restlessness. Ron's snores, Harry's occasional muttering—comforting, yet somehow distant, as though she were watching them through a foggy pane of glass.
She sat up, pushing the blanket aside. The cool air kissed her skin, offering a fleeting relief from the heat of her thoughts. Without thinking, she stood, tiptoeing past the sleeping figures toward the kitchen and muttered a small muffliato to ensure no noise she would make would wake them or their hosts in the next bedroom. As she left the room, she thought that maybe tea would help. Something warm to chase away the chill she couldn't seem to shake.
The kitchen was bathed in a soft, golden glow, the faint flicker of a single candle dancing on the walls. Fleur stood by the counter, her silver-blonde hair catching the light like moonlight on water. She was stirring a potion, the liquid inside emitting a gentle, soothing shimmer. The scent of lavender and chamomile filled the air, wrapping around Hermione like a comforting embrace.
"Couldn't sleep?" Fleur's voice was low, melodic, carrying the faintest trace of her French accent. She didn't turn around, her focus still on the potion, but there was an undeniable awareness in her tone—as though she'd been expecting someone to join her.
Hermione hesitated, surprised to find her, her fingers brushing against the doorframe. "No," she admitted quietly. "It's… the scars. They hurt more at night."
Fleur finally turned, her blue eyes soft yet piercing. There was something unspoken in her gaze, a shared understanding that made Hermione's breath hitch. "I know the feeling," Fleur said, her words deliberate, each one weighted with meaning. "Pain does not always leave so easily. Come. Sit."
Hermione obeyed, her movements slow, almost reluctant, as she perched on the edge of a chair. Fleur busied herself for a moment, pouring a small amount of the potion into a delicate cup and sliding it across the table. "Drink this. It will help."
The warmth of the cup seeped into Hermione's hands as she brought it to her lips. The taste was sweet, calming, and she felt some of the tension in her shoulders begin to ease. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
Fleur watched her intently, her expression thoughtful. "You carry too much, Hermione," she said after a moment. "You do not have to bear everything alone."
Hermione looked down at her hands, the cup now resting between them. "It's not that simple," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "I have to help Harry. I have to help end all of this"
There was a pause, then Fleur stood, moving closer until she was standing beside Hermione. Her presence was magnetic, pulling Hermione's gaze upward. Fleur's hand reached out, her fingers gently brushing against the scars on Hermione's arm. The touch was feather-light, but it sent a shiver racing through Hermione's entire body.
"They will fade," Fleur said softly, her thumb tracing the lines of a particularly deep scar. "But you must allow yourself to heal."
Hermione's breath caught as Fleur's touch lingered, her fingers moving in slow, deliberate circles. The ache in her arm seemed to melt away under Fleur's ministrations, replaced by a different kind of heat—something deeper, more primal. She tried to push the feeling down, to ignore the way her heart pounded in her chest, but it was impossible.
Fleur's other hand came up to cradle Hermione's face, her palm warm against Hermione's cheek. "You are so strong," Fleur murmured, her voice a low, sultry purr. "But even the strongest need comfort."
Hermione's lips parted, her throat dry as she struggled to find the words. But before she could speak, Fleur leaned in, closing the distance between them. Their lips met in a kiss that was tentative at first, a question whispered into the quiet of the night. Then, as if realizing the answer was yes, the kiss deepened, becoming something hungry, desperate.
Fleur's tongue brushed against Hermione's, sending a jolt of electricity straight to her core. Hermione's hands flew up, tangling in Fleur's silky hair, pulling her closer as though afraid she might vanish. The world outside ceased to exist; there was only this—Fleur's mouth on hers, Fleur's hands roaming her body, igniting every nerve.
When they finally broke apart, both women were breathless, their foreheads resting together as they gasped for air. Fleur's eyes glimmered with something wild, something untamed, and Hermione knew without a doubt that she was lost.
"Let me take care of you," Fleur whispered, her voice thick with desire. Her hand slid down Hermione's side, coming to rest on her hip, her grip firm yet tender.
Fleur's lips brushed against Hermione's ear, her breath hot and trembling as she whispered, "Follow me." Hermione's heart pounded in her chest, her pulse a rapid drumbeat echoing in her ears. She hesitated for only a moment before nodding, her hand finding Fleur's as they moved away from the kitchen counter. The soft glow of the simmering potion cast long shadows across the floor, illuminating their path as Fleur led Hermione to the open space by the hearth.
The fire had died down to embers, but its warmth still lingered in the air, wrapping around them like a cocoon. Fleur turned to face Hermione, her eyes dark with intent, her fingers trailing lightly down Hermione's arm. "Lie down," she murmured, her voice low and commanding, yet laced with tenderness.
Hermione's breath hitched, but she obeyed, lowering herself to the floor. The coolness of the wood beneath her back was a sharp contrast to the heat building inside her. Fleur knelt beside her, her movements deliberate, exuding a quiet confidence that made Hermione's stomach flutter. She reached for Hermione's waistband, her gaze locked with hers, seeking permission. Hermione nodded, swallowing hard as Fleur slipped off her pajama bottoms, leaving her exposed in nothing but her knickers.
"Beautiful," Fleur breathed, her hands tracing the curve of Hermione's thighs, her touch featherlight yet electric. Hermione shivered, her skin prickling with anticipation. Fleur leaned down, her lips brushing against the sensitive skin of Hermione's inner thigh, her breath warm and teasing. "You've been through so much… Let me make you forget, even if just for tonight."
Hermione's head fell back, her fingers clutching at the floor as Fleur's mouth inched higher, her kisses growing firmer, more insistent. When Fleur's tongue finally flicked against the fabric of Hermione's knickers, a moan escaped her lips, unbidden and desperate. Fleur smiled against her skin, her hands sliding up to grip Hermione's hips, pulling her closer still.
With deliberate slowness, Fleur hooked her fingers into the waistband of Hermione's knickers, tugging them down and tossing them aside. Hermione trembled, her cheeks flushed, her body humming with need. Fleur didn't waste time. She settled between Hermione's legs, her hands spreading her thighs wider, exposing her completely. Her gaze held Hermione's as she dipped her head, her tongue gliding through her folds in one languid, leisurely stroke.
"Oh—!" Hermione gasped, her back arching off the floor. Fleur's mouth was relentless, her tongue circling, teasing, savoring every inch of her. Hermione's hands flew to Fleur's hair, tangling in the silken strands as waves of pleasure crashed over her. Fleur hummed softly, the vibration sending shocks of sensation straight to Hermione's core.
But just as Hermione felt herself teetering on the edge, Fleur pulled back, her lips glistening as she looked up at Hermione with a sly smile. "Not yet," she purred, her voice dripping with mischief. "I want to feel all of you."
Before Hermione could protest, Fleur shifted, straddling her knees and guiding Hermione's legs to wrap around her own. Their cores aligned, the heat between them palpable even through the thin fabric of Fleur's nightgown. Fleur rocked her hips slowly, the friction deliciously maddening, drawing a shaky whimper from Hermione's lips.
"Is this what you want?" Fleur murmured, her voice a sultry whisper. Her hips moved again, more deliberately this time, grinding against Hermione as she leaned down to capture her lips in a searing kiss. Hermione moaned into Fleur's mouth, her hands gripping Fleur's shoulders as the rhythm between them grew more urgent.
Fleur broke the kiss, her breath ragged as she tugged at the hem of her nightgown, pulling it over her head and tossing it aside. Her bare skin gleamed in the dim light, her body a masterpiece of curves and softness. Hermione's eyes roamed over her, her admiration tinged with awe. Fleur smirked, clearly enjoying the effect she had on her.
She guided Hermione's legs higher, adjusting their position until their bodies were perfectly aligned once more. The heat of their combined desire was almost unbearable, each movement sending sparks of pleasure coursing through them. Fleur pressed her forehead against Hermione's, her breath mingling with hers as she began to move, her hips rolling in slow, deliberate circles.
"Feel how we fit together," Fleur whispered, her voice husky with need. "How perfect this is…"
Hermione's nails dug into Fleur's back as the sensations overwhelmed her. Every brush of skin, every shared gasp, every thrust of Fleur's hips brought her closer to the edge. She could feel the tension coiling tight within her, threatening to snap. Fleur's pace quickened, her movements growing more erratic as her own pleasure mounted.
Their breaths came in short, ragged gasps, their bodies slick with sweat as they moved together in perfect harmony. Fleur's name spilled from Hermione's lips like a prayer, her voice breaking with every thrust. Fleur responded with a growl of satisfaction, her hands tightening on Hermione's hips as she drove them both closer to the brink.
Just as Hermione felt herself about to shatter, Fleur slowed, her breath hitching as she looked down at her. "Look at me," she commanded, her voice fierce. Hermione's eyes fluttered open, meeting Fleur's intense gaze. In that moment, there was no pain, no fear, no memories of Bellatrix—only Fleur, and the blinding pleasure she brought.
Fleur resumed her movements, harder now, more insistent. Hermione cried out, her body bowing as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over her. Fleur followed soon after, her climax hitting her with such force that she collapsed onto Hermione, their bodies trembling together as they rode out the aftershocks.
For a long moment, they lay there, limbs entwined, hearts pounding in unison. Fleur pressed a soft kiss to Hermione's shoulder, her breath gradually steadying. "Still awake?" she murmured, a playful lilt in her voice.
Hermione managed a weak laugh, her fingers lazily tracing patterns on Fleur's back. "Barely."
"Good," Fleur said, her lips curving into a wicked smile. "Because I'm not done with you yet."
Hermione's hand stilled on Fleur's back as her words lingered in the air like a whispered promise. Because I'm not done with you yet. The statement sent a shiver down Hermione's spine, reigniting the warmth that had been slowly ebbing away after their shared climax. She could feel Fleur's heartbeat against her own, steady and strong, a rhythm that seemed to sync perfectly with hers.
Fleur shifted slightly, propping herself up on one elbow to gaze down at Hermione. Her hair, pale and silken, fell like a curtain around them, catching the faint light of the dying fire. Her eyes—bright, almost luminous—held an intensity that made Hermione's breath hitch. There was something undeniably captivating about Fleur in this moment, something that went beyond her Veela allure. It was the way she looked at Hermione, as though she could see straight through her walls and into the raw, fragile core of her.
"You're beautiful," Fleur murmured, her voice low and warm, the faintest trace of her accent curling around the words. "Do you know that?"
Hermione flushed, her cheeks heating under Fleur's unwavering gaze. She wasn't used to being so vulnerable, so exposed—both physically and emotionally. But with Fleur, it felt… different. Safe. Natural. She swallowed, her throat dry, before managing a soft, "I… I don't think anyone's ever said that to me before."
Fleur's lips curved into a gentle smile. "C'est dommage." She leaned down, brushing her lips against Hermione's forehead in a feather-light kiss. "They should have."
The tenderness in Fleur's voice made Hermione's chest tighten. She wanted to say something—anything—but the words caught in her throat. Instead, she let her hands drift upward, fingers tangling in Fleur's hair as she pulled her closer. Their lips met again, this time in a kiss that was slower, deeper, more deliberate. Fleur's tongue brushed against hers, teasing and coaxing, and Hermione found herself melting into the sensation.
But then Fleur pulled back, just enough to break the kiss but still close enough that Hermione could feel her breath ghosting over her skin. "Now, you go" Fleur whispered, her tone playful but laced with something darker, more commanding.
Hermione blinked, momentarily confused. "Me…go?"
Fleur's smile turned wicked. "Now you have to take care of me." She trailed a finger down Hermione's chest, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. "Unless you'd rather I continue doing all the work."
Hermione's heart skipped a beat. She hadn't expected this—hadn't even considered it. But the spark in Fleur's eyes, the subtle challenge in her voice, ignited something deep within her. A flicker of confidence, of desire, that she hadn't known she possessed. She hesitated for only a moment before nodding, her voice barely above a whisper. "Show me what you want."
Fleur's grin widened. She shifted again, moving to lie flat on her back beside Hermione, her body stretched out like a canvas waiting to be explored. Hermione sat up, her pulse quickening as she took in the sight of Fleur—her flawless skin, the elegant curve of her waist, the way her thighs parted ever so slightly, invitingly.
It was overwhelming, the sheer beauty of her. But Hermione pushed aside her nerves, determination overriding her uncertainty. If Fleur trusted her, if Fleur wanted her, then she would give her everything.
She started slowly, tentatively. Leaning down, she pressed a kiss to Fleur's collarbone, her lips warm against the delicate skin. Fleur hummed softly, a sound of encouragement that spurred Hermione on. She continued downward, kissing a path along Fleur's sternum, each touch growing bolder as her confidence built.
When she reached the swell of Fleur's breasts, Hermione paused, glancing up to meet Fleur's gaze. Her expression was unreadable, but there was a glimmer of anticipation in her eyes that made Hermione's stomach flutter. Taking a steadying breath, Hermione dipped her head lower, her mouth closing over one taut nipple.
Fleur's sharp inhale was music to her ears. Hermione swirled her tongue experimentally, eliciting a low moan from Fleur that sent a jolt of satisfaction coursing through her. She repeated the motion, alternating between gentle sucks and flicks of her tongue until Fleur's breathing grew uneven, her hips shifting restlessly against the blankets beneath them.
Emboldened by the reaction, Hermione moved lower still, her kisses trailing across Fleur's stomach, pausing briefly at the dip of her navel before continuing downward. By the time she reached the apex of Fleur's thighs, Hermione's own arousal was simmering just beneath the surface, her desire heightened by every sound, every movement Fleur made.
She hesitated only for a moment before spreading Fleur's legs wider, giving herself better access. The sight before her—Fleur, wet and ready, her thighs trembling with anticipation—was almost too much to bear. Hermione's mouth watered as she leaned in, her breath ghosting over sensitive flesh.
"Mon dieu," Fleur gasped, her hands gripping the blankets tightly. "Don't tease."
Hermione didn't need further prompting. She closed the distance, her tongue sweeping through slick folds in a slow, deliberate stroke. Fleur's moan was immediate, her back arching off the bed as Hermione began to explore her in earnest. Every lick, every suck, was calculated, designed to draw out the most visceral reactions. She circled Fleur's clit with firm, precise movements, her tongue alternating between broad strokes and focused pressure.
Fleur's hands found their way to Hermione's hair, tangling in the curls and tugging lightly—not enough to hurt, but enough to convey her urgency. "Yes, just like that," she breathed, her accent thickening with pleasure. "Continue."
Hermione obeyed without hesitation. She slid a hand beneath Fleur's thigh, lifting it slightly to deepen her angle, her tongue delving inside while her free hand teased at Fleur's entrance. The combination was irresistible, and Fleur's moans soon escalated into cries, her body writhing beneath Hermione's ministrations.
The tension in Fleur's muscles coiled tighter and tighter, her breaths coming in short, ragged bursts. Hermione could feel it—the precipice Fleur was teetering on, the edge she was so close to falling over. She doubled her efforts, her lips wrapping around Fleur's clit as she sucked gently, her tongue flicking rapidly.
And then Fleur came undone.
Her entire body tightened, her back bowing off the bed as waves of ecstasy crashed over her. Hermione held her there, working her through the climax until Fleur finally collapsed, trembling and spent.
For a long moment, neither of them moved, the only sound in the room the crackling of the fire and their mingled breaths. Then Fleur reached for Hermione, pulling her up until their lips met in a kiss that was tender yet tinged with lingering heat.
"Merci," Fleur murmured against her lips, her voice soft but sincere. "That was…"
"Good?" Hermione ventured, a shy smile tugging at her lips.
Fleur chuckled, the sound warm and rich. "Incroyable." She brushed a strand of hair from Hermione's face, her touch lingering. "But now, we should rest. Tomorrow will come sooner than we'd like."
Hermione nodded, though a part of her longed to stay wrapped in this moment forever. They disentangled themselves reluctantly, the cool air a stark contrast to the warmth of their bodies. Fleur stood first, offering Hermione a hand to help her up.
As they parted ways—Fleur heading toward her room, Hermione toward hers—Hermione couldn't help but glance back. Fleur stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the soft glow of the hallway light, her expression unreadable.
"Bonne nuit, Hermione," Fleur said softly.
"Goodnight, Fleur"