Aucune Defense Pour Toi, ch. 36 PART TWO {Fleur/Hermione} R/Mature
TITLE: AUCUNE DEFENSE POUR TOI
Ch. 36: Ampersand
AUTHOR: D. Geheimnis
PAIRING: Fleur/Hermione.
SUMMARY: Love is like death, sudden and unexpected, long and drawn out. Fleur Delacour is no expert in the ways of love, the English or Hermione Granger. But in Hermione's seventh year, the learning curve is steep.
NOTE: This was written as an alternative POV to Dreiser's "No Defense for You" (http://dreiser.org/miscfic/nodefense.htm. The third chapter of the story is available if you contact Dreiser directly.). Therefore, this story is set in both Rowling's canon for the story in general and Dreiser's canon for the seventh year of Hogwarts that was written after GoF but before OotP.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENT: I would like to thank Dreiser for her continual help with my fanfic, both through our conversations about the storyline and also her dedication to reading the chapters as I write them.
WARNINGS: Mild use of occasional profanity, minor angst, and sexuality. R/MATURE
DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter and the original storyline are not mine; they belong to J.K. Rowling and Dreiser, respectively.
More polished versions of previous chapters can be found at Fanfiction.net (http://www.fanfiction.net/~dgeheimnis
THIS IS PART TWO.
Ch. 36: Ampersand (part two)
When morning finally crept through the windows, their bodies had shifted so now it was Fleur who was holding the younger woman's body within her own. As she had countless mornings before, she tried once again to synch her breathing with the brunette's. And like so many mornings before, she could not.
The blonde shifted slightly to kiss Hermione's neck, then her cheek and her eyelids. At first it wasn't so much of a kiss as an astonishment, a relief. Her lips melting against the other girl's skin. An attempt to not wake the slumbering, peaceful brunette. But what started out as one thing quickly grew into another, lingering longer and longer. Causing Hermione to stir, turning over to face Fleur with a contented, sleep smile.
"Mm, morning breath," Hermione opened her eyes slightly after meeting Fleur's lip in a kiss.
"You must be mistaken," Fleur protested, her mind elsewhere, her mind focused on how Hermione's nightshirt had slipped in the night.
"You have morning breath and I want to wake up to it every morning," Hermione opened her eyes completely, searching out and finding, locking onto Fleur's, her tone becoming suddenly serious.
"Perhaps I will wake up a few minutes before you, slip out to brush my teeth merely to spite you," Fleur spoke, her fingers tracing the hem of Hermione's neckline.
"We both know you're not that much of a morning person," Hermione grinned
For a moment the two women, lying on their sides in each other's arms, merely looked at each other. Their eyes dipping in and out of each other's gaze. Hermione bit her lip.
Fleur traced the edge of Hermione's face. "It's only because I find it infinitely impossible to leave any bed that you are in. This is something, by the way, that I am not willing to work on. There are others, however, that yes I am willing to work on."
"Such as?"
"Opening up to you, letting you in more, not be so bloody impossible as you English say. However, I can only be me. And while that is not an excuse for me not to change, there are limits. I am afraid that I will tragically always be a bit bloody impossible. However I am willing to try." Fleur's finger traced the underside of Hermione's bottom lip. "But also kissing you more. I want to work on that." And with that, she captured the brunette's lips. The tenderness quickly melted away to reveal her hunger, her lust for what it was, which Hermione returned in favor, opening her mouth, letting Fleur in. Groaning when Fleur's hand slid up, over, down and beneath her nightshirt. "And maybe more than just merely kissing..." Fleur whispered as she moved her attention back to Hermione's neck, suddenly filled with the want, the need to bite her lover's neck slightly.
Fleur knew that she had to initiate. And not because Hermione would not, could not. No, in fact the Gryffindor was more than capable and willing. And if Fleur let her, Hermione would and would do so happily. But Fleur knew that it should be her, and not out of some narcissistic self-importance or need to be in control. She knew it had to be her because of how she pulled away. Hermione needed her to do it and Fleur needed, wanted to. Not only wanted, but craved, longed, desired.
Her lips still hunting, still searching for the world in Hermione's embrace, she pulled her arms, her body slowly away, away far enough to start unbuttoning her own nightgown. Too shy to start the action on Hermione, wanting to illustrate where she was headed. Hermione's hand covered her own, stopping Fleur. The blonde looked up, blinking, before Hermione's fingers took up where she had stopped. Not waiting for her own garment to be slid off her shoulders, Fleur started undressing Hermione.
Forward. Their bodies crashed, skin against skin, hearts pounding rapidly against chests rising and falling against each other.
And if only it was enough, but it was never enough. Each and every touch, graze, movement of tongue and finger only made Fleur want more, need more. And she made it up as she went along, guided by desire, by instinct, by love, by Hermione's looks and touches. Underwear was shimmied off, left forgotten amidst the sheets or perhaps on the floor.
Hermione slid on top of Fleur. Fleur who arched upwards, needing to be closer, always closer. And as intoxicating as it was to be beneath her lover, her necklace dangling and tracing patterns on her skin, the French woman knew it would not do. Shifting her weight slightly, she led Hermione back down onto the bed. Straddling Hermione, for a moment Fleur looked down at the other woman who looked up at her with so much love, so much trust.
The room was silent apart from their breathing, a gasp, a moan, an occasionally nervous, awkward laughter. Lips, necks, hands, breasts, hips. Repositioning, their bodies, their hips crashing, moving into each other. But still not enough, Fleur's hand slid down, nails grazing flesh, pausing. Fleur looked up, hunting for one final signal of approval. But Hermione's eyes were closed.
"Look at me," it came more of a question, a request that Fleur was sure she had only breathed until Hermione's eyes fluttered open.
Hermione's eyes flickered open among ragged breaths.
And she made it up as she went along, exploring the strange, new wonderful territory at her fingertips, intoxicating to the touch, at the touch. An awkward shyness, a willingness to move past it sometimes erupting in nervous laughter. And she had never felt a sensation similar to how it was to be in side Hermione, the warmth, the wetness, the closeness. Perhaps even more than kissing her lover, Fleur could see how it could become addictive.
From the corner of her eye she could see the necklace, the charm begin the glow. And she could almost feel, as if in ghost sensation... Imagined, anticipated, felt empathetically, Fleur had no time or mental ability to discern how or why. But as her hand moved along Hermione, she felt it too, distantly, within herself in a manner impossible to describe. Surprised at the sensation, the ability to feel exactly, Fleur paused. Stunned, so this is what it was to be a veela in love. But Hermione found Fleur's hand and guided her, holding her there despite the pain they both felt. Fleur holding still as possible, waiting for it to go away, trying to kiss it away until it finally did.
What a maddening, trembling world they had discovered. Where nothing was enough. There was always something more, to be shared, to be felt, to find, to discover. And how this world shook over, under, through them. Words long forgotten, control slipping, falling away in droves, only gasps and moans, the shifting of weights and body filled the room threatening to flood past, louder and louder with more urgency.
And after the deluge, breath and senses had to be recaptured. Chests rising and falling. Minds still struggling when Hermione propped herself up, silently regarding Fleur for a moment. Her finger on top of Fleur's lips as if to quiet any words that might find their way to the surface before sliding on top on Fleur. As if surveying the land, her land in front of her, Hermione grinned a lazy smile before capturing Fleur's breast within her mouth.
Hermione's lips traveled downward, nipping and lingering as they chose first from breast to breast, the stomach, the hip bone, the inner thigh and then...
And then Fleur's breath hitched, her body arching up and into the touch, the overwhelming sensation. Her hand caught in the morning tangles of Hermione's hair. Her body caught on Hermione's tongues, her fingers. And when Hermione looked up, surprised, Fleur felt a warmth that what she had felt was not reserved for her alone. Hermione could feel as she had felt. So this was the all-encompassing love of a veela. Forward. And now again everything she had felt only moments before, but directly, under Hermione's touch and guidance. At times it was too much, and other times not enough. Maddening, addicting.
And then they lay still. Remembering to breath, hands lazily tracing each other's bodies with love and quiet astonishment. Hermione's hand held out her necklace, the charm having stopped glowing at some unnoticed point. The color now entirely different than any either had ever seen. Words were poised on her lips, but neither seemed to want to speak. So Fleur leaned forward and took the words from Hermione's lips carefully with her tongue, and moved the conversation back and forth between their lips. Faintly, with a strange sense of pleasure, Fleur realized that the taste on Hermione's lip was herself. She liked how she tasted on her lover's lips and had the rest of her life to tell Hermione this. Fleur marveled at this.
The hunger was there and Fleur knew that the hunger would probably always be there. But the deadly urgency had slipped from it and Fleur knew in time this hunger would probably change shape as the nature of their relationship evolved. Pulling apart from the embrace, her eyes quietly regarding Hermione, returning a stray hair back behind Hermione's ear, Fleur realized that this was only the beginning. The courtship ritual was only the beginning. They had the rest of their lives together. This love that had scared her to the thick of her being was anything but frightening in the end. Somewhere in the Delacour family tree, an ampersand was forming between her name and Hermione's.
An hour later, still naked and entwined, the two women showed no intention of getting out of bed. For the most part, words were slow coming. At times they kissed or tucked a stray hair out of one's face. But mostly they laid there, in each other's arms, enjoying the warmth, the sensation. Absorbed, stunned by what they had just experienced, the two lovers only realized the door opening too late.
"Ew," Gabrielle closed her eyes and looked away, her arms crossed as she stood in the doorway. "I thought you'd be done being gross by now. Clearly not, perverts."
As Gabrielle spoke, Hermione moved closer against Fleur, shielding her front from the younger girl as Fleur desperately grasped for the duvet to cover their exposed bodies. While Gabrielle had seen Fleur naked before, it had been years ago and in entirely different circumstances. This was not okay.
"You were the one who entered without knocking," Hermione retorted before Fleur could open her mouth. "You knew exactly what I was coming up here to do."
"Yeah, that was last night. It's past noon now," Gabrielle whined, her eyes still tightly shut, her cheeks still burning brightly with embarrassment.
"I can't help it if your sister is a bit on the slow side," Hermione teased.
Fleur swatted at Hermione playfully. "I thought you liked how I value patience."
"Not that much patience," Hermione shot her a look.
"You two just don't stop being gross, do you?" Gabrielle muttered. "Whatever. Lunch is ready. Mom made sandwiches. I'm sure she'll be ecstatic that you have descended to a new level of gross. However I hope that you haven't ruined my appetite because I am going downstairs now and I fully intend on eating my sandwich like a real person and maybe try to persuade Mom and Dad to let me stay out of school a bit longer. Actually maybe your two staying in bed would actually help my case..."
Fleur followed Hermione up the long, endless flights of stairs. It was a staircase that had always intrigued her, captured her intense interest nearly to the point of a haunting obsession, but it had also been a staircase that she had avidly avoided since arriving to Hogwarts. Until now. And the Fat Lady was nothing like Fleur had imagined her.
After the courtship ritual, Fleur strength had returned to her in droves. The natural grace she had been feigning and forcing, it was if it had never left. So this was what it felt like to be happy and healthy, nowhere near as scary as Fleur had made it out to be.
Even the Hogwarts community was aware of these changes, and not just in Fleur. How could they not? Even if they had not been aware of how exhausted Fleur truly was, they were now presented with a far more energetic version. As time wore on, neither Fleur nor Hermione became that successful in hiding the desire, the loving looks becoming less secretive every day.
So it was only truly the parents who looked surprised and shocked at the Hogwarts graduation ceremony when, after receiving her diploma, the Head Girl had embraced the beautiful, French professor in a demonstration of affection that far surpassed mere excitement over graduation. But even if only a portion of those gathered that day were shocked, everyone watched. It was hard not to watch the couple's first open display of affection since their kiss in the crowded hallway. Unlike the first time, it was Hermione who had initiated it, Fleur who was shocked before returning the gesture, and no one ran off upset. Thomas Granger only turned to Lucy to shake his head, not at the affection but at the grandiose display, wondering if it was really all that entirely necessary.
After the ceremony, the congratulations, the goodbyes, trying to balance both worlds of one's family and one's life that for the past seven years was lived apart from one's family. It was exhausting, both speeding by and dragging on. The sun was threatening to set when Fleur and Hermione had both finally successfully pulled away to head back into Hogwarts Castle. In the morning, they, along with the rest of the students and a few of the teachers, would be leaving. Hand in hand with Hermione's parents walking slightly behind, Hermione had led them up to her dormitory, her home away from home since she was eleven.
Fleur walked with growing excitement as they came closer. Even after they had performed the ritual, she had stayed away from this place, always curious but feeling that it would break the last taboo. But now that Hermione graduated, it was as if all the restrictions had melted away. Formalities no longer had to be observed, as they no longer applied.
Lucy and Thomas waited in the common room as the two headed upstairs, talking awkwardly with Parvati's mother, giving the couple privacy.
Alone in Hermione's private Head Girl room, Fleur quietly examined the four poster bed, the books scattered on the floor, and the photos of Hermione's friends, of Fleur on the nightstand.
"This isn't exactly how it looked, I started to pack even though I promised not to," Hermione muttered shyly, kicking a crumpled up piece of paper across the floor. "And it was cleaner before finals."
Fleur sat down on the bed, testing its softness, its bounce, her hands feeling the maroon colored curtains. The room had been smaller than the one she would have had her final year at Beauxbatons if she had not gone to the tournament, but it was also larger than she had assumed the Hogwarts dorms to be. But just as drafty though. "I like it. It even smells like you." And it was true, hints of the girl's shampoo, the perfume she occasionally wore clung to the air. How long, Fleur wondered, would it last in this room after Hermione was gone?
Hermione took a seat beside Fleur, their hands instinctually becoming intertwined. Fleur smiled peacefully and used her free hand to trace the side of Hermione's face. "Your room is lovely." But they both knew she wasn't talking about the room before Fleur captured her lips. It was, like so many before, meant to be a quick kiss. But like so many before it quickly evolved.
"You need to pack," Fleur protested as Hermione moved her attentions towards her neck. The younger girl had been delighted when Fleur stopped bruising so easily, and had begun to experiment on how much she could get away with.
"There is a spell for that," Hermione murmured, her lips following the neckline of Fleur's dress.
"Your parents are downstairs," Fleur tried again, as Hermione began unbuttoning Fleur's dress.
"They're talking with Parvati's mother, who, believe me, never stops talking," Hermione's hand traced up Fleur's side, smiling at Fleur's reaction to her touch. "Please. I always wanted..."
But Fleur never needed much persuading, not in the end. Not when she realized that there was nothing to be scared of. So she only protested playfully when Hermione found the fasteners to her dress.
As she was being lowered down onto the bed, Fleur was aware there was so much more that had to be done. The air, in the way, was bittersweet with that. While Fleur had always known what Hogwarts had meant to Hermione-far more than Fleur had cared about Beauxbatons-she had never really seen exactly to what degree until that day. Leaving Hogwarts, living without Hogwarts to return to in the same way, Fleur knew, would be hard for Hermione. But the walls of Hogwarts that had restricted them, kept them in such separate lives had also fallen. Tomorrow they started their life together, truly, and it was a thrilling, frightening thought.
They were moving to France for the time being, into one of her parent's smaller properties until they could get more settled, more on their own feet. Hermione should be starting her new post at the Ministry. A honeymoon of sorts, though currently being planned, would have to wait. And then there was something else threatening their happiness, and the happiness of the entire Wizarding world, something they had avoided speaking directly about. Something Fleur only now brought up as she re-buttoned her dress, watching her lover now frantically cast packing spells.
"The ceremonies, they do not truly mean anything. They can wait," Fleur started, her words causing Hermione to pause.
"What?"
"This summer, I do not believe that there is time for it, not with everything you need to do," Fleur stood up.
"What are you talking about? I am taking the summer off."
"And you should use it wisely. But we both know that you do not take summers off." The war, despite their wishing, loomed above them all, casting first a subtle and then increasingly larger shadow over everything. "I know that Harry is planning something. And that you and Ron plan to go with him, to help him and be by his side when the time comes."
"Fleur, I-"
"No. Your place is there. It would not be right otherwise."
"But what about...?" Hermione took a step forward, her face showing a mixture of emotion, hesitation. "I don't want to leave you behind, waiting."
"Who said anything about waiting?" Fleur arched her eyebrow, wrapping her arms around Hermione's waist. "Your place is with your friends, but my place is at your side. And you would be a fool to believe that I would stay at home, twiddling my thumbs waiting while you go off to war, especially not when protection spells are my specialty. No. I fully intend on fighting by your side. Do you think I cultivated my skills out of pure interest and curiosity? I have always intended on using my talents to fight for and protect the ones that I love. And this, my love, is not an option."
"Fleur..." Hermione regarded her carefully examining her with her eyes before capturing her lips. This was a conversation they would take up later, but they both knew that Fleur would not take no for an answer.
But all that didn't matter now. All that mattered at that moment was that Hermione was kissing her. Like a normal, young couple in love. No potions, no sickness, no anxiety, no fear of death or rejection. The courtship ritual was over. The war, it was true, would not, could not wait for them. But for the first time in three years, Fleur did not have to pretend to smile. She did not have to not worry. She no longer had to pretend so many things. Fleur had never felt so at peace in her entire life. But it was only the beginning and they had so far to go. The moment, after all, could not last forever.