Two Fics
Title: I'm Not Afraid
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Neville, Draco, Lucius, OMC
Pairings: Draco/Neville
Word Count: 1,700
Genre: Slash?
Summary: Neville and Draco visit Azkaban for very different reasons.
Warnings: Slash contained within; not major, but it's there.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters, I just play with them a lot.
Written For: hecticity who requested a Draco/Neville in which they see each other while visiting Azkaban. Sorry, I couldn't quite work Devil's Snare in >.>
Looking at up at the large fortress, solemn and eerie as it loomed out in the middle of the ocean, Neville Longbottom had to suppress a shudder. He had been brave enough to stand up to Lord Voldemort with death glaring him in the eyes, brave enough to pick up the sword of Godric Gryffindor and lope the head off of that great snake, but he was not sure if he was brave enough to go through with this. "Can I change my mind?" he asked the ferryman weakly, sinking back as the boat docked despite himself. What kind of Gryffindor are you? he berated himself silently as the other man chuckled. Afraid of a fortress where the dementors do not even dwell any longer. Just people who have done terrible, terrible things. But not Bellatrix Lestrange. The memory of her dying at the hands of Molly Weasley gave Neville a tiny thrill.
"I stay until you and the other visitors are done," the man said, spitting at the stone. "Couple of hours at least, and it's probably nicer in there than out here with the howling wind and water. Besides, you made a commitment, boy, and those aren't to be broken."
"I know that," Neville said sourly, wrapping his cloak tightly about him as he climbed up onto the dock. "Just do not leave without me."
The man rolled his eyes. "If I leave anyone behind, then I don't get paid, boy. It's something I try to avoid doing."
"Whatever works," Neville muttered as he hurried up the long steps leading to the single door of Azkaban Prison. He had volunteered to come here to try and see if any of the prisoners could ever be released back into human society, but also because he longed to see the cells where Bellatrix Lestrange, Rodolphus Lestrange and Barty Crouch Jr. had been kept. In seeing them he was sure that his nightmares, where the dead came back to life to do to him as they had done to his parents, would stop. They had to.
Draco Malfoy wrinkled his nose as he walked through the halls of Azkaban. The smells that drifted out of the occupied smells were absolutely disgusting, to say nothing of the ones that came from the room where all of the waste was kept until it could be taken away. This is not suitable for human beings, he thought to himself, head held high as he ignored the cries and jeers of those who were imprisoned around him. It was not his first visit and he knew that all they wanted was the acknowledgment of another human, something he did not see fit to give any of them. Except for the one he had come to see at his mother's behest. She refused to visit the awful place, saying it held memories she did not want to live through again, but she was not above asking him to go.
"And again I come to see you," he said, stopping before a cell five down the row. The smell coming from this cell was considerably less, the blonde man inside more well-kept than the others. Lucius Malfoy would never live in squalor unless he completely lost his mind, not even in the hell that was the wizard's prison. "I am not sure why this time, you look no different than you did last time. Do you feel contrite or repentant, father?"
"You know better than to ask that, Draco," Lucius sneered, not rising from his position on the wooden frame that served as his bed. "I have never for a moment thought that I was in the wrong and I doubt that I ever will. You should be the one seeking forgiveness for not serving as faithfully as you could have."
"He is dead, father," Draco said simply. "I think that that should be proof enough that your ways were the wrong ways. Mother believes it, I believe it, why can't you?"
"Because I am not so easily led astray as the two of you. The Dark Lord represented ideals that will never die, ideals the existed long before he did, and will stay for centuries to come after his death. I will believe until the day I die. If your aunt Bellatrix was alive, then she too would believe."
"Aunt Bellatrix was insane," came Draco's flat reply. "She lost her mind to this place and to him before that. I almost died following the biddings of the man you believed to be supreme and you were put into a place of shame. Why can you not just renounce all that you have done and swear to never do any of it again? You could leave this place and come back to the manor with me and mother; if you even care about us half as much as my insane aunt did."
Lucius spat at Draco's feet. "I always knew that I should have taken a firmer hand in your upbringing, Draco," he said coldly. "Then you would not have turned into such a weak-willed fool. If all you are going to do is ask me to renounce my beliefs, then I do not want you to visit me again."
Draco bowed stiffly, face a mask of cold fury. "As you wish, father." It was the same thing that he had said during his last visit, and the one before. Both of them knew that Draco would be returning yet again, each hoping that the other would bend a little more to their ways.
Neville stood in the shadows on the far side of the hall, outside of the cell that he had been told had once been home to Barty Crouch Jr. A young man with straw blonde hair and an innocent face, Neville recited silently, Denying even as they dragged him off that he had done the deed, hoping to play on the mercy of his father. Yet the moment he was able he returned to Voldemort and did things for him, tried to send Harry to his death. As cruel as Bellatrix, even though he was far younger. Crouch was not dead, but far worse. He was kept in St. Mungo's, a danger to no one, for the Dementor's Kiss had stolen his soul years ago. A fitting fate for such a cruel murderer.
That was when he heard a familiar voice, one that gave him shivers even as it put his back up in defense. Turning he saw the pale blonde head of Draco Malfoy standing in front of a cell, his voice cold as he bid the occupant farewell. Not wanting to be seen, Neville looked around for a place to hide. Yet before he could dart off Draco had turned, the coldness in his face changing to a smirk when he saw Neville standing there. "Well, well," he muttered, strutting up as he had always done at school. "If isn't Longbottom. What're you doing in Azkaban, Longbottom?"
"That's none of your business, Malfoy," Neville replied, looking directly at Draco for perhaps the third time in his whole life. Things were different now, they were not in the halls of Hogwarts, and he did not need to be afraid of anything this other young man could do to him. Feeling emboldened, perhaps by the paleness of Draco's face, he added, "Know what you're doing though. Visiting that scum excuse of a father of yours. Heard he can't buy his way out of this one and actually has to stay and get what's coming to him."
Draco's face paled more and he stepped forward, glaring up at Neville with those flashing gray eyes. "You shut up about my father," he grated. "I know what he has done, I know why he's here, but you have no right to say anything about him or any of my family."
Once upon a time Neville would have backed down or at least looked away. But that was before he had stood up to Voldemort and before he had accepted a few things about himself. "I have every right in the world to say whatever I want about your family," Neville said quietly, eyes hard. "It was your aunt and uncle who helped to put my parents where they are, and countless others suffered worse. They might not have the nerve to stand up to a little ferret like you, but I've got plenty of it now, and I'm not going to keep my mouth shut just so that you don't have to face the truth about how dirty your blood really is."
The smaller man's face twisted with anger and what Neville thought might have been disgust. "My blood is as pure as yours, Longbottom, just as pure."
Neville sneered. "The blood of my family isn't tainted by that of innocents. Malfoy and Black mixed together... I can't imagine how dirty your blood would be if it was spilled."
"Shut up!" Draco howled, one arm slamming Neville up against the wall while his other pointed his wand at the former Gryffindor's exposed neck. "Shut up." It was quieter the second time, edged and raspy.
Neville did not struggle, his mind flashing to the one other time Draco had had him in this position, chest heaving and eyes wild. They had been in their final year at Hogwarts and no spells had been uttered, but something else had happened. Something that Neville had swore he would never think about again, something that he did not doubt Draco had pushed as far out of his mind as he could. The only thing different now was the location, the outfits and the fact that Neville was almost positive he knew what was going to happen. And he wanted it to. "Do it," he taunted. "Or are you afraid, Draco?"
"I'm not afraid." Draco's tongue darted out to wet his lips, eyes still wild. "I'm not..." His wand clattered to the ground, his other hand grabbing the front of Neville's robes to pull him in for a rough kiss. When they broke apart for a moment, panting, he repeated, "I'm not afraid."
Both of them knew it for a lie.
Title: Blossoming (Chapter One)
Rating: PG
Characters: Bill Weasley, Fleur Delacour-Weasley, Hermione Granger, Victorie Weasley Luna Lovegood
Pairings: Bill/Fleur
Word Count: 1,296
Genre: General, Romance
Summary: When Bill's away on a business trip, Hermione comes to their house to keep Fleur and Victorie company...
Warnings: There will be femmeslash eventually.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters, I just play with them a lot. I also do not write the French accent, just imagine it's there, I suck at it too much.
Written For: k_9hat who requested a multi-chapter (o.o) dealing with Hermione/Fleur while Bill is away on business with Luna somehow figured in... oh this should be fun.
His wife was sulking.
She was adorable when she sulked, arms crossed across her slender chest, lip poking out in a pout that was far more endearing than it had any right to be. She refused to look at him when he was facing her, but he knew that whenever he looked away she was directing a scorching glare at his back. It was not the first time they had gone through this dance, and he highly doubted it would be the last, but there was nothing that could be done. He had to go, she could not come and she had to accept it or sulk for the next month or longer.
"Are you going to say anything to me before I leave?" Bill asked at last, setting his suitcase down beside the fireplace. "You know I'm on a schedule, I can't just wait around while you sulk to my face and glare at my back."
Fleur continued to stare at the spot just above Bill's head.
Bill sighed. "Hermione should be over soon," he said, lighting the fire and taking a handful of sparkling Floo Powder from a pot on top of the mantle. Last time he had gone on an extended vacation he had returned to find his house cold and empty, Fleur having taken Victorie to her mother's, refusing to stay in an empty house. This time he had begged Hermione, a woman who Fleur at least respected, to come and stay so that Fleur would not leave the house empty and unlocked to get back at him. Sometimes he thought that she was more like a spiteful cat than anything else. "Try not to destroy the house while I'm gone." He tossed the Floo Powder into the flames and stepped into the jumping green fire before Fleur could respond.
"Sometimes that man sets my teeth on edge," Fleur gritted as she unfolded herself from her position on the couch to stretch. Remaining curled up for the entire morning, just to let Bill know how displeased with him she truly was, had done nothing good for her muscles. The fire flared up in the fireplace again, causing Fleur's eyes to narrow. If that was Bill trying to get her to bend, then she would tell him exactly what she thought- "Oh," she said aloud when a head topped with bushy brown hair emerged. "Hello, Hermione."
"You look upset," Hermione noted, brushing the soot off of her Muggle jeans. "I take it that I've missed Bill, then?"
"You have," Fleur confirmed. "My miserable excuse of a husband left a moment before you arrived."
Hermione winced a little as she set her bags down. "Bill was right," she stated. "You do get a little testy whenever he leaves."
Fleur whirled, eyes flashing. She needed something to vent her anger upon, and it looked as though Hermione was going to give her a nice, large target. "Don't you take his side. You're here to watch me, not because I invited you."
Quirking her eyebrow, Hermione crossed her arms across her chest. "I came partially as a favor," she admitted, "but also partially because it's nice to get away from the city once in awhile and... what was that last reason? Oh yes, I've grown slightly fond of you in the past few years and I wouldn't mind spending time with you and little Victorie. But if you're going to snap my head off because I came, then I can leave just as easily. What's it matter to me if you leave the house to go to your mother's?"
"You're not just here to keep an eye on me?" Fleur asked, more than a little surprised by Hermione's admission, her anger already draining away. She had admired the intelligent young woman since she had gotten to know her better, but had always thought that Hermione had the same view of her as Ginny Weasley.
"No," Hermione said flatly. "Now can you tell me where I'm staying so I can put this all away and say hello to Victorie?"
"Let me show you," Fleur murmured, directing Hermione towards the stairs. Maybe this month would not be so bad as the last one had been. Company of a someone nearer to her age was always better than the company of her aging, though beloved, mother. Victorie would certainly be pleased. The young girl loved her 'Auntie Hermione'.
Hermione draped herself across the large, fluffy bed in the guest room, amazing at the softness of the pillows. From the pillows to the wallpaper, everything about this room beat her flat back in London. "At least I get to stay here for a month," she murmured, flipping over to pull out an antique hand mirror. Not that it would be a dull month by any means. There was something that she had to accomplish while she was here and Hermione always did what she set out to do. "Luna," she whispered into the mirror, waiting several moments for the dreamy eyed blonde who went along with the name to appear. When she did not, Hermione sighed and placed the mirror face down on the nightstand.
"Auntie Hermione!" The squeal came from a tiny girl who was now throwing herself at Hermione with reckless abandon, blond curls bouncing and blue eyes sparkling. "You're really here! Mommy said you were, but I didn't think she was telling the truth, but you are!"
Laughing, Hermione hugged the small blond girl before holding her back a little. "You've grown," she noted. Victorie Weasley had her mother's hair and features, someday she would be a real beauty, and her father's charming blue eyes. "Anyone ever tell you that you're going to break some hearts when you get older?"
The girl giggled. "You did!" she declared happily. "Every time you see me!"
"That's right I do. It's only because it's getting more and more true the older you get."
"How long are you staying for?"
"Until your father comes home. I think he said that it'll take about a month."
Victorie tilted her head, a charming smile working its way onto her face that instantly put Hermione on guard. Victorie was adorable and she knew it, plus she had that Veela nature, so she had a way of trying to get people to do things for her. Like any other child, only with a slight advantage due to her heritage. "Can we go to Diagon Alley?" she asked, a certain lilt to her voice that Hermione had noticed in Fleur's while she was talking to Bill from time to time. Clever little one.
"I'm sure that we will be able to," Hermione replied. "Until then why don't you go play with the new doll I left on the table in your playroom?"
Victorie's eyes widened. "You brought me another doll?"
"Don't I always?" The blond girl laughed and leaned up to kiss Hermione's cheek before darting out the door, only narrowly avoiding a collision with her mother, who muttered something in French as the tea tray she was carrying nearly went crashing to the floor. "For me?" Hermione asked, nodding at the tea.
"For us," Fleur corrected, setting the tray on the empty stand before settling on the end of the bed. "You spoil her. That must be why you're her favorite."
Hermione smiled as she picked up a cup of tea, a whiff of it revealing that it was her favorite blend. Pleased that Fleur had remembered she said, "We all spoil her, you included. It's like that with Veela children, is it not?"
Fleur nodded, eyes a little distant. "Except with our males, they are treated a little different. But we can discuss that later. For now let us drink and relax."
"Yes, let's."
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Neville, Draco, Lucius, OMC
Pairings: Draco/Neville
Word Count: 1,700
Genre: Slash?
Summary: Neville and Draco visit Azkaban for very different reasons.
Warnings: Slash contained within; not major, but it's there.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters, I just play with them a lot.
Written For: hecticity who requested a Draco/Neville in which they see each other while visiting Azkaban. Sorry, I couldn't quite work Devil's Snare in >.>
Looking at up at the large fortress, solemn and eerie as it loomed out in the middle of the ocean, Neville Longbottom had to suppress a shudder. He had been brave enough to stand up to Lord Voldemort with death glaring him in the eyes, brave enough to pick up the sword of Godric Gryffindor and lope the head off of that great snake, but he was not sure if he was brave enough to go through with this. "Can I change my mind?" he asked the ferryman weakly, sinking back as the boat docked despite himself. What kind of Gryffindor are you? he berated himself silently as the other man chuckled. Afraid of a fortress where the dementors do not even dwell any longer. Just people who have done terrible, terrible things. But not Bellatrix Lestrange. The memory of her dying at the hands of Molly Weasley gave Neville a tiny thrill.
"I stay until you and the other visitors are done," the man said, spitting at the stone. "Couple of hours at least, and it's probably nicer in there than out here with the howling wind and water. Besides, you made a commitment, boy, and those aren't to be broken."
"I know that," Neville said sourly, wrapping his cloak tightly about him as he climbed up onto the dock. "Just do not leave without me."
The man rolled his eyes. "If I leave anyone behind, then I don't get paid, boy. It's something I try to avoid doing."
"Whatever works," Neville muttered as he hurried up the long steps leading to the single door of Azkaban Prison. He had volunteered to come here to try and see if any of the prisoners could ever be released back into human society, but also because he longed to see the cells where Bellatrix Lestrange, Rodolphus Lestrange and Barty Crouch Jr. had been kept. In seeing them he was sure that his nightmares, where the dead came back to life to do to him as they had done to his parents, would stop. They had to.
Draco Malfoy wrinkled his nose as he walked through the halls of Azkaban. The smells that drifted out of the occupied smells were absolutely disgusting, to say nothing of the ones that came from the room where all of the waste was kept until it could be taken away. This is not suitable for human beings, he thought to himself, head held high as he ignored the cries and jeers of those who were imprisoned around him. It was not his first visit and he knew that all they wanted was the acknowledgment of another human, something he did not see fit to give any of them. Except for the one he had come to see at his mother's behest. She refused to visit the awful place, saying it held memories she did not want to live through again, but she was not above asking him to go.
"And again I come to see you," he said, stopping before a cell five down the row. The smell coming from this cell was considerably less, the blonde man inside more well-kept than the others. Lucius Malfoy would never live in squalor unless he completely lost his mind, not even in the hell that was the wizard's prison. "I am not sure why this time, you look no different than you did last time. Do you feel contrite or repentant, father?"
"You know better than to ask that, Draco," Lucius sneered, not rising from his position on the wooden frame that served as his bed. "I have never for a moment thought that I was in the wrong and I doubt that I ever will. You should be the one seeking forgiveness for not serving as faithfully as you could have."
"He is dead, father," Draco said simply. "I think that that should be proof enough that your ways were the wrong ways. Mother believes it, I believe it, why can't you?"
"Because I am not so easily led astray as the two of you. The Dark Lord represented ideals that will never die, ideals the existed long before he did, and will stay for centuries to come after his death. I will believe until the day I die. If your aunt Bellatrix was alive, then she too would believe."
"Aunt Bellatrix was insane," came Draco's flat reply. "She lost her mind to this place and to him before that. I almost died following the biddings of the man you believed to be supreme and you were put into a place of shame. Why can you not just renounce all that you have done and swear to never do any of it again? You could leave this place and come back to the manor with me and mother; if you even care about us half as much as my insane aunt did."
Lucius spat at Draco's feet. "I always knew that I should have taken a firmer hand in your upbringing, Draco," he said coldly. "Then you would not have turned into such a weak-willed fool. If all you are going to do is ask me to renounce my beliefs, then I do not want you to visit me again."
Draco bowed stiffly, face a mask of cold fury. "As you wish, father." It was the same thing that he had said during his last visit, and the one before. Both of them knew that Draco would be returning yet again, each hoping that the other would bend a little more to their ways.
Neville stood in the shadows on the far side of the hall, outside of the cell that he had been told had once been home to Barty Crouch Jr. A young man with straw blonde hair and an innocent face, Neville recited silently, Denying even as they dragged him off that he had done the deed, hoping to play on the mercy of his father. Yet the moment he was able he returned to Voldemort and did things for him, tried to send Harry to his death. As cruel as Bellatrix, even though he was far younger. Crouch was not dead, but far worse. He was kept in St. Mungo's, a danger to no one, for the Dementor's Kiss had stolen his soul years ago. A fitting fate for such a cruel murderer.
That was when he heard a familiar voice, one that gave him shivers even as it put his back up in defense. Turning he saw the pale blonde head of Draco Malfoy standing in front of a cell, his voice cold as he bid the occupant farewell. Not wanting to be seen, Neville looked around for a place to hide. Yet before he could dart off Draco had turned, the coldness in his face changing to a smirk when he saw Neville standing there. "Well, well," he muttered, strutting up as he had always done at school. "If isn't Longbottom. What're you doing in Azkaban, Longbottom?"
"That's none of your business, Malfoy," Neville replied, looking directly at Draco for perhaps the third time in his whole life. Things were different now, they were not in the halls of Hogwarts, and he did not need to be afraid of anything this other young man could do to him. Feeling emboldened, perhaps by the paleness of Draco's face, he added, "Know what you're doing though. Visiting that scum excuse of a father of yours. Heard he can't buy his way out of this one and actually has to stay and get what's coming to him."
Draco's face paled more and he stepped forward, glaring up at Neville with those flashing gray eyes. "You shut up about my father," he grated. "I know what he has done, I know why he's here, but you have no right to say anything about him or any of my family."
Once upon a time Neville would have backed down or at least looked away. But that was before he had stood up to Voldemort and before he had accepted a few things about himself. "I have every right in the world to say whatever I want about your family," Neville said quietly, eyes hard. "It was your aunt and uncle who helped to put my parents where they are, and countless others suffered worse. They might not have the nerve to stand up to a little ferret like you, but I've got plenty of it now, and I'm not going to keep my mouth shut just so that you don't have to face the truth about how dirty your blood really is."
The smaller man's face twisted with anger and what Neville thought might have been disgust. "My blood is as pure as yours, Longbottom, just as pure."
Neville sneered. "The blood of my family isn't tainted by that of innocents. Malfoy and Black mixed together... I can't imagine how dirty your blood would be if it was spilled."
"Shut up!" Draco howled, one arm slamming Neville up against the wall while his other pointed his wand at the former Gryffindor's exposed neck. "Shut up." It was quieter the second time, edged and raspy.
Neville did not struggle, his mind flashing to the one other time Draco had had him in this position, chest heaving and eyes wild. They had been in their final year at Hogwarts and no spells had been uttered, but something else had happened. Something that Neville had swore he would never think about again, something that he did not doubt Draco had pushed as far out of his mind as he could. The only thing different now was the location, the outfits and the fact that Neville was almost positive he knew what was going to happen. And he wanted it to. "Do it," he taunted. "Or are you afraid, Draco?"
"I'm not afraid." Draco's tongue darted out to wet his lips, eyes still wild. "I'm not..." His wand clattered to the ground, his other hand grabbing the front of Neville's robes to pull him in for a rough kiss. When they broke apart for a moment, panting, he repeated, "I'm not afraid."
Both of them knew it for a lie.
Title: Blossoming (Chapter One)
Rating: PG
Characters: Bill Weasley, Fleur Delacour-Weasley, Hermione Granger, Victorie Weasley Luna Lovegood
Pairings: Bill/Fleur
Word Count: 1,296
Genre: General, Romance
Summary: When Bill's away on a business trip, Hermione comes to their house to keep Fleur and Victorie company...
Warnings: There will be femmeslash eventually.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters, I just play with them a lot. I also do not write the French accent, just imagine it's there, I suck at it too much.
Written For: k_9hat who requested a multi-chapter (o.o) dealing with Hermione/Fleur while Bill is away on business with Luna somehow figured in... oh this should be fun.
His wife was sulking.
She was adorable when she sulked, arms crossed across her slender chest, lip poking out in a pout that was far more endearing than it had any right to be. She refused to look at him when he was facing her, but he knew that whenever he looked away she was directing a scorching glare at his back. It was not the first time they had gone through this dance, and he highly doubted it would be the last, but there was nothing that could be done. He had to go, she could not come and she had to accept it or sulk for the next month or longer.
"Are you going to say anything to me before I leave?" Bill asked at last, setting his suitcase down beside the fireplace. "You know I'm on a schedule, I can't just wait around while you sulk to my face and glare at my back."
Fleur continued to stare at the spot just above Bill's head.
Bill sighed. "Hermione should be over soon," he said, lighting the fire and taking a handful of sparkling Floo Powder from a pot on top of the mantle. Last time he had gone on an extended vacation he had returned to find his house cold and empty, Fleur having taken Victorie to her mother's, refusing to stay in an empty house. This time he had begged Hermione, a woman who Fleur at least respected, to come and stay so that Fleur would not leave the house empty and unlocked to get back at him. Sometimes he thought that she was more like a spiteful cat than anything else. "Try not to destroy the house while I'm gone." He tossed the Floo Powder into the flames and stepped into the jumping green fire before Fleur could respond.
"Sometimes that man sets my teeth on edge," Fleur gritted as she unfolded herself from her position on the couch to stretch. Remaining curled up for the entire morning, just to let Bill know how displeased with him she truly was, had done nothing good for her muscles. The fire flared up in the fireplace again, causing Fleur's eyes to narrow. If that was Bill trying to get her to bend, then she would tell him exactly what she thought- "Oh," she said aloud when a head topped with bushy brown hair emerged. "Hello, Hermione."
"You look upset," Hermione noted, brushing the soot off of her Muggle jeans. "I take it that I've missed Bill, then?"
"You have," Fleur confirmed. "My miserable excuse of a husband left a moment before you arrived."
Hermione winced a little as she set her bags down. "Bill was right," she stated. "You do get a little testy whenever he leaves."
Fleur whirled, eyes flashing. She needed something to vent her anger upon, and it looked as though Hermione was going to give her a nice, large target. "Don't you take his side. You're here to watch me, not because I invited you."
Quirking her eyebrow, Hermione crossed her arms across her chest. "I came partially as a favor," she admitted, "but also partially because it's nice to get away from the city once in awhile and... what was that last reason? Oh yes, I've grown slightly fond of you in the past few years and I wouldn't mind spending time with you and little Victorie. But if you're going to snap my head off because I came, then I can leave just as easily. What's it matter to me if you leave the house to go to your mother's?"
"You're not just here to keep an eye on me?" Fleur asked, more than a little surprised by Hermione's admission, her anger already draining away. She had admired the intelligent young woman since she had gotten to know her better, but had always thought that Hermione had the same view of her as Ginny Weasley.
"No," Hermione said flatly. "Now can you tell me where I'm staying so I can put this all away and say hello to Victorie?"
"Let me show you," Fleur murmured, directing Hermione towards the stairs. Maybe this month would not be so bad as the last one had been. Company of a someone nearer to her age was always better than the company of her aging, though beloved, mother. Victorie would certainly be pleased. The young girl loved her 'Auntie Hermione'.
Hermione draped herself across the large, fluffy bed in the guest room, amazing at the softness of the pillows. From the pillows to the wallpaper, everything about this room beat her flat back in London. "At least I get to stay here for a month," she murmured, flipping over to pull out an antique hand mirror. Not that it would be a dull month by any means. There was something that she had to accomplish while she was here and Hermione always did what she set out to do. "Luna," she whispered into the mirror, waiting several moments for the dreamy eyed blonde who went along with the name to appear. When she did not, Hermione sighed and placed the mirror face down on the nightstand.
"Auntie Hermione!" The squeal came from a tiny girl who was now throwing herself at Hermione with reckless abandon, blond curls bouncing and blue eyes sparkling. "You're really here! Mommy said you were, but I didn't think she was telling the truth, but you are!"
Laughing, Hermione hugged the small blond girl before holding her back a little. "You've grown," she noted. Victorie Weasley had her mother's hair and features, someday she would be a real beauty, and her father's charming blue eyes. "Anyone ever tell you that you're going to break some hearts when you get older?"
The girl giggled. "You did!" she declared happily. "Every time you see me!"
"That's right I do. It's only because it's getting more and more true the older you get."
"How long are you staying for?"
"Until your father comes home. I think he said that it'll take about a month."
Victorie tilted her head, a charming smile working its way onto her face that instantly put Hermione on guard. Victorie was adorable and she knew it, plus she had that Veela nature, so she had a way of trying to get people to do things for her. Like any other child, only with a slight advantage due to her heritage. "Can we go to Diagon Alley?" she asked, a certain lilt to her voice that Hermione had noticed in Fleur's while she was talking to Bill from time to time. Clever little one.
"I'm sure that we will be able to," Hermione replied. "Until then why don't you go play with the new doll I left on the table in your playroom?"
Victorie's eyes widened. "You brought me another doll?"
"Don't I always?" The blond girl laughed and leaned up to kiss Hermione's cheek before darting out the door, only narrowly avoiding a collision with her mother, who muttered something in French as the tea tray she was carrying nearly went crashing to the floor. "For me?" Hermione asked, nodding at the tea.
"For us," Fleur corrected, setting the tray on the empty stand before settling on the end of the bed. "You spoil her. That must be why you're her favorite."
Hermione smiled as she picked up a cup of tea, a whiff of it revealing that it was her favorite blend. Pleased that Fleur had remembered she said, "We all spoil her, you included. It's like that with Veela children, is it not?"
Fleur nodded, eyes a little distant. "Except with our males, they are treated a little different. But we can discuss that later. For now let us drink and relax."
"Yes, let's."