Chapter Text
Hermione sat with her head down as Andromeda and Narcissa berated her. Her hands trembled as she gripped them between her knees. She didn’t look up or defend herself. Not now. Because she deserved it.
For the first time in her life, she understood the consequences of her actions. The startling realization that she did something extremely stupid. Her ego was bruised beyond repair, but the worst pain was in her chest.
She didn’t lift her head as their words washed over her. Each strike crafted to make her understand she had done something foolish and selfish. Ted stood to the side neither agreeing nor disagreeing with anything. His quiet disappointment was far more effective and just as hard on her.
The door opened, but Hermione’s head remained down. It wasn’t who she was waiting for. Tonks entered the room vibrating with anger. The emotions in the room made her flinch, but she refused to speak.
There was no defense. No justification that wouldn’t sound like an excuse. Her chest felt tight, and she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t break down.
A storm reached them before the doors opened. The entire room flinched back and away, but Hermione was rooted to the spot. Her body trembled as Fleur’s rage washed over her. It felt like a dozen knives were cutting into her with the precision to destroy her. The way it stripped her bare and the pain she felt shattered her heart.
She caused this.
Her eyes flickered up, and she wished she hadn’t. Fleur was transformed but not as the version she was used to. Gone were the feather covered wings; in their place were black leathery wings. The feathers that covered her skin no longer glimmered with thrall but shimmered with darkness. Blood coated her torn clothes and black talons. Black eyes gazed at her as if she were staring at a stranger.
A cry strangled in her throat, and everything seemed to come to a grinding halt. Pain rippled between them, coating and covering the gentle peace between them. Their bond strained under the pain, threatening to shatter. Desperation clawed inside of her because it couldn’t break. Not like this. Not because of her stupid actions.
“Take her home.”
Fleur’s words were snarled, angry, and insistent. Her melodious voice long gone, replaced with a raspy voice that shredded what little hope she had left.
Ted was the one to step forward, his hands gentle but firm as he steered her out of the room and towards the floo. Hermione couldn’t stop looking back. Fleur didn’t look at her, black eyes still locked on the space she’d been. A pull brought her back to the moment as Ted got them into the floo.
The world spun and she was back in their flat. Gone was the warmth and connection she’d felt whenever she came here. It felt stark, cold and no longer their sanctuary.
“Rest,” Ted suggested. “She’ll return when she’s ready.”
Hermione opened her mouth to speak but found herself unable to. She nodded and walked away.
Her mind kept re-playing what happened. The pain and chaos she created. Fear lingered in her veins. Not from the fight but from what came next. Tears tracked down her face as she stripped out of her ruined clothes.
She let the hot water wash away her tears, but it couldn’t wash her pain away. Hermione scrubbed her skin until it was raw. Her choked sobs echoed off the shower tiles, and she couldn’t seem to stop her racing heart.
This pain felt a thousand times worse than when her world imploded all those weeks ago. Hermione wanted to rage and scream. To break. She didn’t know how to handle the emotions in her stomach. Despite their lack of empathy or care, Hermione hadn’t been alone before. No one steadying her or to reassure her. Instead, she had to sit with it. Let it burn her from the inside out.
As she stumbled towards their bed, she curled under the blankets. Tears continued to fall as she curled in on herself. One hand pressed to her mouth to muffle her sobs and the other to her stomach.
Her entire world hung in the precarious balance of how badly she had fucked up. The pain was unbearable, and it hurt.
Hermione drifted off at some point. The emotional pain stripped her down until her body took over. She slept fitfully in a bed too big for just her. In blankets meant to protect all three of them. Their nest was empty without the safety of her fiancé.
That’s when she heard it. The sound of heartbroken sobs brought her to wakefulness immediately. Her body shuddered as she crawled out of bed and stumbled towards the sound. What she saw stopped her cold.
Fleur knelt on their floor, feathers scattered around her, wings dropping as she sobbed. Her silvery blonde hair lacked its usual luster. She looked broken. Talon fingers dug into her biceps, blood trickling down from the pinpoint pricks. Her chest heaved with her sobs and Hermione’s knees gave out.
“Fleur,” Hermione’s voice was broken. Shattered.
Black eyes looked up at her. Raw pain gazed at her. An emptiness that made Hermione want to tear out her own heart if it would stop that look.
They stared at each other.
Neither moved nor spoke. Their harsh breaths were the only sound in their flat.
“Don’t.”
Hermione sobbed, but the sound broke off as her throat constricted. Pain rippled between them like a living thing. Fleur’s thrall no longer mingled between them but seemed to shimmer around Fleur like a shield. The visual disconnect added another fracture to their bond.
“Fleur,” Hermione tried again.
“No,” Fleur snapped. The single word full of such pain and anguish like a slap in the face.
Fleur stood up, the light seemed to bend towards her as darkness seemed to roll off her in waves. Hermione felt true terror slither down her spine. Not because she thought Fleur would hurt her but for whatever happened next might shatter them.
“Do you understand?”
Hermione opened her mouth but found words impossible. Her brain refused to give her any kind of answer or a way to resolve this. If there was even a resolution.
“Why?” Fleur yelled.
She flinched hard enough to bump her head on the wall.
“I—” Her words stuck. The pounding of her heart felt like a drum beat in her ears. She couldn’t tear her eyes from the terrified, broken version of Fleur, who looked at her with regret.
“You—” Fleur growled seemingly unable to stop the anger in her voice. “You almost got yourself killed. Did everything I sacrificed to keep you safe mean nothing to you? Does the future we planned not matter? Our child? You need to be safe. To trust that we would handle it and protect you. Then you did this. After everything we’ve done, you still walked into danger. I can’t—I don’t understand why you’d do this. Do I not matter?”
“Fleur, that’s not—”
“Go, Hermione.”
Fleur cut her off. Her words cold, distant, and lacking the usual affection that promised safety.
“Please,” Hermione tried again.
“You don’t even know why I’m hurt,” Fleur shook her head. “Go, Hermione.”
Hermione pushed herself to her feet, whole body trembling as she fought not to run towards Fleur. Everything in her screamed to do that but those eyes said no. She turned and returned to their room, alone. Curled in bed, she cried; the sound echoed from the living room where Fleur remained.
**********************************************************
The silence was deafening. Fleur and Hermione moved around each other like ghosts. They interacted through left-out food or small objects. Not a word was spoken when Fleur was home, which wasn’t often. Hermione maintained the silence to everyone. She shut herself away from those who could help.
Her ego and pride were destroyed. Her faith in herself was shaken to the core. She ate and slept. Kreacher appeared to sit in a chair and read. They didn’t speak. The silence did all the talking.
For three days, Hermione let herself stew in pain. Each morning brought fresh cracks in the bond between them. Fleur’s distance, Hermione’s silence, and neither willing to cross the distance but for different reasons. Fleur’s pain paralyzed her, and Hermione’s guilt kept her silent.
Narcissa and Andromeda attempted to get Hermione to talk. Tonks refused to see her at all, and Ted kept his distance.
She spent hours replaying the events before and after. Each moment a slow realization until it collided and destroyed her carefully controlled narrative. It left shattered pieces of her own view of herself scattered in her mind.
Hermione realized the truth. All the things she ran from. It haunted her. Her own pain, however, seemed like nothing compared to the pain Fleur carried. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the look on Fleur’s face.
The front door opened with a bang, and Hermione didn’t even flinch. Tonks stormed into the living room, her hair dark red and curly. She remained in her spot, eyes locked on the window as Tonks towered over her.
“Are you done with your pity party?” Tonks demanded.
“I’ve been done,” Hermione responded. Her voice was distant, unbothered, and empty.
“Then you’re ignoring everyone for fun?”
“Yes.”
“What is your problem?” Tonks snapped. “You screwed up, kid, but that isn’t the end of the world. You’re supposed to screw up and learn from it.”
Hermione remained silent, her face neutral.
“Why are you sitting here? This isn’t you.”
The pleading in Tonks voice made her look up.
“I’m waiting.”
“For what?” Tonks asked.
“Fleur. Do you all think I’m sitting here feeling sorry for myself?” Hermione questioned. Voice devoid of emotion.
“What else do you call this? You aren’t speaking to anyone, and you’re not talking to Fleur. What else should we think?”
Hermione stood up, her face clouded with anger.
“Get out.”
“What?” Tonks frowned in confusion.
“I said get out. Don’t come back if you’re just going to stand there and treat me like they did.”
Tonks stepped back as if slapped. Her hair shifted to the same dark brown as Andromeda’s.
“Hermione, that’s—”
“No!” Hermione snapped. Her brown eyes were furious. “I fucked up, okay, I know that. I’m not seven, I’m seventeen. Maybe next time just ask what’s wrong instead of assuming I’m pouting because I can’t accept my mistakes. Just get out. I’m done trying to reason with every adult in my life about my choices. The only person I need to talk to won’t listen to me.”
She turned and walked away. Her hand went to the radio, slipping it onto a muggle music station that still played. The world was in chaos and Hermione felt like her life wasn’t her own.
The bed looked far too empty. Her heart felt more so.
********************************************************************
Kreacher popped into the bedroom, a first, and Hermione sat up with a frown.
“It’s Missus Fleur,” he explained. “Mistress went to help her, and they are requesting your presence at the house.”
Hermione stumbled her way into pants as she rushed to the floo. She arrived in a whirl of green flames as she stepped into the Black Manor.
“Where is she?” Hermione asked.
“She came across the Order during a recon mission,” Andromeda began. “They didn’t take kindly to spotting her.”
“Why was she alone?”
“Because it was the safest option,” Daphne drawled. “Her thrall protects her. She went off half-cocked and got herself into this mess. Maybe you shouldn’t have pissed off your finance.”
“Daphne,” Melanie barked. “Enough.”
“Why? It’s the truth? Why aren’t any of you saying it? Hermione isn’t an idiot. She fucked up, she owned it, and now her fiancé is out fucking shit up. They’re perfect for each other. Idiots.”
Hermione snorted while everyone turned on the young woman. She walked over and hugged Daphne, who looked surprised.
“Someone let me know when my idiot fiancé returns,” Hermione told them as she left the room.
She drifted until she found the sunroom, which was dark in the evening. Hermione settled onto a couch and stayed in the darkness. Let it curl around her. She cycled between worried and angry while she waited for Fleur to return.
The idea of being around the others left a sour taste in her mouth. Hermione was just too tired to deal with pleasantries when her fiancé was off on a suicide mission. She was grateful to Daphne for not pulling punches where everyone else had. A problem to solve another day.
Her feet were propped on the couch beside her. No matter which way she thought through the current predicament, it enraged and upset her in equal measure. Hermione had spent the last few days feeling like an absolute mess just for Fleur to turn around and do something just as reckless. They hadn’t even had a proper conversation. She’d given Fleur space to process what Hermione did, then this. A reckless, stupid endeavor that didn’t do anyone any favors.
Anger burned inside her chest. The way their bond fractured under her mistake and to sit here, waiting, was a slap to the face. Tonks dared to accuse her of being childish and pouting.
Everything within her paused. The sudden suspension of emotion left her adrift. In that stillness, she felt a shift. A reclaiming of a sense of self she’d lost. A reminder that despite the chaos of the world, Hermione and Fleur were still teenagers. New to their relationship, in whatever capacity it was and new to the responsibilities they held as partners.
While it shed some pain and anger, she understood it much better. They’d both played a stupid game, and if Fleur wasn’t willing to step up, Hermione would. One of them needed to cross the bridge and set the rules before they destroyed themselves.
She maintained her vigil in the dark sunroom. Ignored the voices that called her. The only one she waited for hadn’t shown up yet. Her gaze held steady out the windows, watching the stars twinkle, as the night continued.
The air changed.
A static charge that Hermione knew well. Her hand pressed to her stomach as it rolled with emotion. Worry and anger battled for dominance.
The door burst open, and Hermione turned to see Fleur enter. Neon blue eyes zeroed in on her the second the door swung shut behind her. Hermione’s eyes tracked Fleur’s form to determine how or if she was injured.
“Fleur.” Relief flooded her as she pushed up to her feet and rushed towards her. Her voice cracked on the name as her hands gripped Fleur’s shoulders. “You’re alright.”
Overtaken by emotion Hermione reached up to grab Fleur’s face with trembling hands. She pulled her down as she rocked onto her toes and kissed her.
The culmination of the last few days burned through her, making her impulsive. Her lips pressed to Fleur’s as her relief gave way to warmth. A knot loosened in her chest. It was brief, fleeting in its intensity. Long enough to hear Fleur’s gasp and returned the pressure but not enough to do more.
Hermione pulled back and shoved Fleur’s shoulders, hard. She moved back as Fleur reached for her and broke. Her body shudders with sobs that break open the hole inside her chest.
“You’re such an asshole!” Hermione shouted through her tears. Voice wrecked. “After everything. How you yelled at me, ignored me, and this is what I get? I know I messed up by putting myself in danger. I could explain how that’s all I was taught to do for six years. Remind you this is what I was supposed to do before they threw me away. Yes, they’re just excuses, but it was instilled in me. Instead of talking to me, you pushed me away. Then, you do something so stupidly reckless that I want to slap you across the face. Why? Why would you do this to me? To us? Do you understand how much I don’t want to lose you? I don’t want any of this if you’re not with me. You promised, me and the first chance you got, you—”
The words cracked and shattered as her throat closed. Her head swam as she clutched her chest. Fingers fisted into the shirt she’d taken from Fleur. The scent of sandalwood and rose felt like a new cruelty. A reminder she wasn’t good enough. That, for all Fleur’s pretty words, she’d given up after one mistake. One moment that she didn’t get to explain herself.
“Why don’t I matter?”
The words ripped from her soul. Years of pain took her knees out from under her.
Strong arms caught her, lifting her like she weighed nothing, as she curled into Fleur’s grip. Legs and arms wound around the one who promised not to let go. Her thrall washed over Hermione like the sun through clouds. Warmed her skin but didn’t do anything to take the sting of rejection.
“I’m sorry,” Fleur whispered. Shame colored her words, and her body trembled. “I never meant to hurt you. I was arrogant and cocky which is how I got myself into trouble. That wasn’t about you, and I planned to speak with you after my mission. I’m sorry, mon ange.”
Hermione cried into her shoulder. Unable to believe those words but desperate to hear them.
“We are going home.”
Fleur carried her through the Black Manor, and if anyone saw them, Hermione didn’t know or care. The trip home did little to soothe her, and the coolness of the flat made her heart ache.
She sat Hermione down on the edge of the bed, kneeling before her. Soft hands cradled her face, dark blue eyes looking at her with regret.
“‘Ermione,” Fleur said. The lilting quality of her voice was back, softer, more affectionate. “I let my pain and fear push you away. Instead of talking to you, I kept everything bottled up. We both made mistakes, but I have never regretted my decision to marry you. This is new to both of us. I don’t know how to handle the intensity of our bond or my Veela’s protective instincts. Without my family, I feel lost and untethered. Please, believe me when I say that there isn’t a future for me without you.”
Her heart hammered in her chest. Body trembled as she let herself be surrounded by Fleur’s thrall. The need to reconnect was overpowering and unbearable.
Hermione sighed as her eyes flickered away from Fleur. Away from the ripped clothes, messy hair, and mud-covered pants. Some of the dirt and debris had transferred to her own clothes.
“We need to shower,” Hermione said. She wasn’t sure talking would happen right now. They were both raw from the last few days.
“We?” Fleur frowned as she followed Hermione to the bathroom.
“You’re not getting in our bed filthy,” she threw over her shoulder.
She turned on the shower, pulling her shirt off without a care in the world. Fleur’s surprised gasp replaced the tension in her stomach with something warmer. Her pants followed next, and this time Fleur groaned. Heat danced high on her cheeks and center.
“You coming?” Hermione asked as she stepped into the shower.
The sound of clothes hitting the ground and French swear words followed her into the shower. A slight smile tilted her lips. It wasn’t romantic or sexual, but it was the only way Hermione could think of connecting.
Fleur stepped into the shower and Hermione felt bare in a new way. Gentle hands grasped her hips and turned her. She didn’t resist as Fleur drew them together. A shiver exploded down her spine as their bodies pressed together. The perfect way they aligned relaxed her. Warm water washed over her back and legs. Her hands glided up and down Fleur’s back, humming softly as she did.
Hermione pulled back first, her hands firm as she turned them and pushed Fleur under the water. Fleur sighed as her head tilted back under the water. Her eyes drifted over Fleur’s naked form. One part of her appreciating how beautiful she was, and the other checked to make sure she was uninjured.
For the next ten minutes, Hermione helped wash Fleur’s day away. It felt soothing. Fleur returned the favor. Her hands comforted as they traced over the lines of her body. Soft, teasing touches passed between them like water.
They dried off, changed, and settled together in bed. Their legs intertwined as they faced each other. Fleur’s hand rested on her stomach, while the other brushed hair from her eyes. Surrounded by blankets and darkness, Hermione still felt discontented. Like she didn’t quite fit.
“What do you need?” Fleur whispered.
Words soft as fingers traced her cheek.
“I don’t know,” Hermione replied. Voice heavy, body restless. “I still feel disconnected and—”
The words died on her lips as soft lips claimed her own. Hermione leaned into the kiss. Their hands reached for each other as they kissed. Despite the fire that burned through her, Fleur kept the kiss slow, languid. It wasn’t rushed like their first kiss. This was an exploration to learn the other.
Hermione tugged on Fleur until she lay half over her. The comforting weight of Fleur’s warmth was enough to settle the restlessness she felt.
As their kisses ended and Fleur settled her head on her chest, Hermione let sleep take her. Safe knowing that they were together, unharmed, and prepared for a future that would continue to test their resolve.
