Rising [1/?]
Title: The Rising - Redux
Author: synergyfox
Pairing: Hermione/Fleur
Rating: M/NC-15/R
Warnings: This will be a roller coaster ride, buckle in and prepare as best you can for the ride.
Disclaimer: I certainly don’t own Harry Potter, I wouldn’t want to - J.K. Rowling has done an excellent job with it, I just write fanfiction like it’s my job and don’t get paid. Labors of love, my fics are labors of love.
A/N: I need to start with a few very important notes here, so bear with me.
Let me just get it out of the way right now, Fleur and Hermione will not being having sex in this part of the story for the sheer fact that Hermione is 15. I know she’s super mature and what not but at the end of the day she’s still a 15 year old, a child. So please don’t inquire as to whether or not they will be, it’s rather aggravating since posting such a thing would get the story taking down and nobody wants that.
This is the revamped version of my original story, The Rising; it has the same plot (which we only got around scraping the very surface of) with a different way of getting there. It will not be the same as the first story - not even the beginning as you will soon see.
I will keep the original Rising up - it will not be coming down since I know so many people loved it and have expressed their wish to have it remain up. Hopefully I can rise above the standards set on the previous attempt.
Now, onwards and enjoy.
~Synergyfox
XxXxXxXxXxXx
Heels clicked against the smooth sidewalk as she made her way towards the moderately sized home with neatly trimmed glass and well-proportioned hedges. Three bicycles were dumped half-hazardly near a black car in dire need of washing.
Minerva McGonagall made her way along the stone path, lifting her hand to bring her knuckles down on what appeared to be a heavy, wooden door.
A young boy of about twelve looked inquisitively up at her, his light brown eyes taking in her odd attire. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his middle finger, squinting, “who are you?”
The gesture did not go unnoticed, “is your mother or your father available?”
He took a deep breath, eyes hardening slightly, “who are you?”
“Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Head Mistress to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I must speak with your mother and father.”
“Oh, why didn’t you just say you’re from that magic school? Mom! Some old lady is here to see you about ‘Mione’s schooling!” He turned back to look up at the tall, Scottish woman, “I’m Brian by the way, I ‘spose you could come in if you want. Personally, I could care less-”
A young woman, no older than thirty, stepped behind the boy, wrapping her arms around him and placing a hand over his mouth to quell his words. “I apologize; my son seems to have forgotten his manners.”
The Transfiguration Mistress offered her an understanding nod, “it is quite alright.”
“Forgive me, I’m Anna Granger. It’s a pleasure…”
“Minerva McGonagall.”
The woman made a motion for her to enter, pushing at the back of her son’s head with her free hand, “go get your sister.”
The hairs on the back of her neck rose as she crossed the threshold of the Granger residence. Old magic seeped into her skin, warming her to the very core and for the first time in a very long while Minerva McGonagall was stunned. Emerald eyes searched the area in interest; the family residing here was anything but a Muggle one.
"I believe we have far more than Hermione's schooling to discuss, Mrs. Granger."
XxXxXxXxXxXx
She ran.
She wasn't sure how long she had been running but it was fight or flight. Instinct kicked in the moment her cerulean eyes caught sight of haggard man - warning bells sounded off.
"I am going to get you, you insufferable half-breed! Your father will pay for sending me away to that god-forsaken prison!"
He was mad, she knew that much.
Her father often spoke of the Mudblood Butcher of Nimes; of how he was away for life, how the French Wizarding community was safe now - how they could sleep comfortably at night.
It hadn't been a lie of course, or false hopes - the man had been carted off to the Ward, locked away.
And then he escaped.
The French were on high alert; her family was placed under protection.
How did I get myself into this situation? I should have listened to father; I should never have tried to get away from the sentry guards. Gods, I just wanted a little bit of freedom!
Something shot by her head, “You whore!” The Butcher cried out and she gave into the temptation to look over her shoulder, praying that her natural Veela grace would keep her from tripping over anything.
He was on his knees with what appeared to be an arrow lodged in his thigh; Fleur sent a silent thanks to the gods above and the gods below, whipping her head around just as she collided with something very solid.
“Oof!”
She, and presumably her savior, went tumbling down a hill in a tangle of limbs - their bodies colliding with the earth and the cracking of fallen limbs sounded deafening in her ears. They groaned in unison when they came to a stop, the wetness of a creek surrounding them. Fleur grimaced and sat up, straddling the person she had collided with once she regained her composure.
The brunette underneath her was pretty with doe eyes and a cut lip from where she most likely bit into it on the way down. The girl couldn’t have been more than fifteen, and from her attire - most certainly a Muggle.
“Merci de m'avoir sauvé la vie!”
“Are you alright? I only meant to scare the man but when I saw he had a wand on him-”
Okay, maybe she wasn’t a Muggle.
She was, however, English.
“Thank you for saving me. ‘E is a very dangerous man.”
The girl frowned underneath her, “why was he chasing you?”
“My father, ‘e put ‘im in the French wizarding prison. ‘E is a, ‘ow do you say…” Fleur took pause, brow furrowing in thought, “a ‘lawyer?’ I suppose that is the word for it. The man ‘as a grudge against my family.”
The teen gave her an understanding nod before looking a little bashful, “I seem to have forgotten my manners. My name is Hermione Granger.”
Fleur smiled down at her, paying no mind to the fact that she was still straddling the younger girl. “Fleur Delacour.”
The breaking of branches and cursing caught their attention and Hermione sat up, body flush against the French witch’s. “I’m going to skin you alive you little wench!”
“My wand is snapped.” Fleur breathed, trying not to panic at the thought of being caught defenseless.
“So is my bow.” Hermione whispered, eyes glued to the area they had fallen, watching for the man.
At least now she knew what the loud crack had been.
“Oi! ‘Mione, it’s inappropriate to attach you face to the breasts of some stranger! Did you at least introduce yourself?” Fleur’s eyes snapped to a teenaged boy, quite similar in physical appearance to the girl whose lap she was sitting on.
“There you are! And the little bitch who shot me too!”
“I’m no bitch and I certainly haven’t shot you; I am clearly a bastard seeing as how I am not the son of the man my mother is married to. I highly suggest you put that wand down, I think I can shoot my rifle off before you can hit my baby sister with a spell.”
It was then that the French witch saw a long piece of metal in his hands with what appeared to be some type of visual aid attached to it. It was thinner at the end than at the part near his under arm and pointed up towards the Butcher of Nimes.
“Who do you think you are getting in the way of my prey?”
The boy squeezed his finger over something and a loud bang sounded; Fleur flinched, covering her ears in pain at the echoing blast.
When she looked up the man was gone and the boy was moving through the water with ease, the weapon resting on his shoulder as he walked. “Are you two okay?” His voice was full with nothing but concern as he crouched next to them, checking the two girls for any sign of external injuries.
“I didn’t even think to ask! Are you alright? We had a tumble down the hill but you’ve been running from that man.”
“What is that?”
The siblings laughed and Fleur pulled herself up, offering her hand to the younger witch.
XxXxXxXxXxXx
They walked together in silence for a while, with Brian in the lead - gun in hand (at least that was what Hermione had called it, she wasn’t particularly savvy on Muggle weapons of war). It was Fleur who broke the silence, cocking her head to the side to get a better look at the soaked girl next to her. “You attend ‘ogwarts, then?”
Hermione’s eyes lit up and Fleur noted a distinct bounce in her step upon mention of Hogwarts, “yes. I’ll be in Fourth Year on first of September. I’m quite excited for classes to start again!”
Fleur’s lips twitched upwards in amusement, “tell me about it? I ‘ave only read a few books with vague references about it.”
“Oh no… you’ve gone and gotten her started all over again. I swear if she starts reciting passages from Hogwarts: A History-”
“Shut up, Brian.” Hermione hissed, glaring at her brother before glancing to Fleur and leaping into an explanation about Hogwarts. "All of the students are sorted into four houses: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin. Gryffindors are chosen for their courage and bravery. Ravenclaws are chosen for their intelligence, knowledge and wit… Hufflepuffs for their hard work, loyalty and determination." She took pause and stuck her hands in the damp pockets of her jacket, “Slytherins are chosen for their ambition, cunning and resourcefulness.” Fleur’s lips twitched upwards in amusement, the girl obviously held some disdain for that particular house. “Most of the Professors have wonderful teaching curriculums." Hermione took a breath, looking abashed, “you go to Beauxbatons I presume?”
“Oui.”
“And that is in Marseilles?”
“Ou-” Fleur paused and looked at the teenager, “’ow did you know that? The location of Beauxbatons is kept ‘idden, just as ‘Ogwarts is.”
An impish smile crossed over Hermione’s features, “I merely deduced it from hints given throughout various obscure texts.”
“You are very smart for your age, no?”
Brian glanced over his shoulder, “she’s merely an extremely logical, bookish, nerd.”
The teen bristled, nostrils flaring at her brother’s accusation, “and you, dear brother, are an obnoxious, egotistical twit.”
“Love you too, ‘mione.” Brian smirked, hopping over a fallen tree with near flamboyant gusto before turning and offering his hand, “ladies, may I?”
Fleur smiled politely and took his hand as she clambered up and over the tree followed closely by Hermione.
XxXxXxXxXxXx
A/N: Please review, I love reviews, they inspire me to write and - as always, I reply to every single review (that isn’t anonymous because I can’t like… PM Review Reply… oh LJ how I love you). Hopefully this round works with only making Fleur’s accent a little accenty ;)
“Merci de m'avoir sauvé la vie!” Roughly translates to “thanks for saving my life” at least I hope. I never studied French, only Russian - forgive me if I butcher anyone’s native tongue. There won’t be much of it, I swear!
Author: synergyfox
Pairing: Hermione/Fleur
Rating: M/NC-15/R
Warnings: This will be a roller coaster ride, buckle in and prepare as best you can for the ride.
Disclaimer: I certainly don’t own Harry Potter, I wouldn’t want to - J.K. Rowling has done an excellent job with it, I just write fanfiction like it’s my job and don’t get paid. Labors of love, my fics are labors of love.
A/N: I need to start with a few very important notes here, so bear with me.
Let me just get it out of the way right now, Fleur and Hermione will not being having sex in this part of the story for the sheer fact that Hermione is 15. I know she’s super mature and what not but at the end of the day she’s still a 15 year old, a child. So please don’t inquire as to whether or not they will be, it’s rather aggravating since posting such a thing would get the story taking down and nobody wants that.
This is the revamped version of my original story, The Rising; it has the same plot (which we only got around scraping the very surface of) with a different way of getting there. It will not be the same as the first story - not even the beginning as you will soon see.
I will keep the original Rising up - it will not be coming down since I know so many people loved it and have expressed their wish to have it remain up. Hopefully I can rise above the standards set on the previous attempt.
Now, onwards and enjoy.
~Synergyfox
XxXxXxXxXxXx
Heels clicked against the smooth sidewalk as she made her way towards the moderately sized home with neatly trimmed glass and well-proportioned hedges. Three bicycles were dumped half-hazardly near a black car in dire need of washing.
Minerva McGonagall made her way along the stone path, lifting her hand to bring her knuckles down on what appeared to be a heavy, wooden door.
A young boy of about twelve looked inquisitively up at her, his light brown eyes taking in her odd attire. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his middle finger, squinting, “who are you?”
The gesture did not go unnoticed, “is your mother or your father available?”
He took a deep breath, eyes hardening slightly, “who are you?”
“Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Head Mistress to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I must speak with your mother and father.”
“Oh, why didn’t you just say you’re from that magic school? Mom! Some old lady is here to see you about ‘Mione’s schooling!” He turned back to look up at the tall, Scottish woman, “I’m Brian by the way, I ‘spose you could come in if you want. Personally, I could care less-”
A young woman, no older than thirty, stepped behind the boy, wrapping her arms around him and placing a hand over his mouth to quell his words. “I apologize; my son seems to have forgotten his manners.”
The Transfiguration Mistress offered her an understanding nod, “it is quite alright.”
“Forgive me, I’m Anna Granger. It’s a pleasure…”
“Minerva McGonagall.”
The woman made a motion for her to enter, pushing at the back of her son’s head with her free hand, “go get your sister.”
The hairs on the back of her neck rose as she crossed the threshold of the Granger residence. Old magic seeped into her skin, warming her to the very core and for the first time in a very long while Minerva McGonagall was stunned. Emerald eyes searched the area in interest; the family residing here was anything but a Muggle one.
"I believe we have far more than Hermione's schooling to discuss, Mrs. Granger."
XxXxXxXxXxXx
She ran.
She wasn't sure how long she had been running but it was fight or flight. Instinct kicked in the moment her cerulean eyes caught sight of haggard man - warning bells sounded off.
"I am going to get you, you insufferable half-breed! Your father will pay for sending me away to that god-forsaken prison!"
He was mad, she knew that much.
Her father often spoke of the Mudblood Butcher of Nimes; of how he was away for life, how the French Wizarding community was safe now - how they could sleep comfortably at night.
It hadn't been a lie of course, or false hopes - the man had been carted off to the Ward, locked away.
And then he escaped.
The French were on high alert; her family was placed under protection.
How did I get myself into this situation? I should have listened to father; I should never have tried to get away from the sentry guards. Gods, I just wanted a little bit of freedom!
Something shot by her head, “You whore!” The Butcher cried out and she gave into the temptation to look over her shoulder, praying that her natural Veela grace would keep her from tripping over anything.
He was on his knees with what appeared to be an arrow lodged in his thigh; Fleur sent a silent thanks to the gods above and the gods below, whipping her head around just as she collided with something very solid.
“Oof!”
She, and presumably her savior, went tumbling down a hill in a tangle of limbs - their bodies colliding with the earth and the cracking of fallen limbs sounded deafening in her ears. They groaned in unison when they came to a stop, the wetness of a creek surrounding them. Fleur grimaced and sat up, straddling the person she had collided with once she regained her composure.
The brunette underneath her was pretty with doe eyes and a cut lip from where she most likely bit into it on the way down. The girl couldn’t have been more than fifteen, and from her attire - most certainly a Muggle.
“Merci de m'avoir sauvé la vie!”
“Are you alright? I only meant to scare the man but when I saw he had a wand on him-”
Okay, maybe she wasn’t a Muggle.
She was, however, English.
“Thank you for saving me. ‘E is a very dangerous man.”
The girl frowned underneath her, “why was he chasing you?”
“My father, ‘e put ‘im in the French wizarding prison. ‘E is a, ‘ow do you say…” Fleur took pause, brow furrowing in thought, “a ‘lawyer?’ I suppose that is the word for it. The man ‘as a grudge against my family.”
The teen gave her an understanding nod before looking a little bashful, “I seem to have forgotten my manners. My name is Hermione Granger.”
Fleur smiled down at her, paying no mind to the fact that she was still straddling the younger girl. “Fleur Delacour.”
The breaking of branches and cursing caught their attention and Hermione sat up, body flush against the French witch’s. “I’m going to skin you alive you little wench!”
“My wand is snapped.” Fleur breathed, trying not to panic at the thought of being caught defenseless.
“So is my bow.” Hermione whispered, eyes glued to the area they had fallen, watching for the man.
At least now she knew what the loud crack had been.
“Oi! ‘Mione, it’s inappropriate to attach you face to the breasts of some stranger! Did you at least introduce yourself?” Fleur’s eyes snapped to a teenaged boy, quite similar in physical appearance to the girl whose lap she was sitting on.
“There you are! And the little bitch who shot me too!”
“I’m no bitch and I certainly haven’t shot you; I am clearly a bastard seeing as how I am not the son of the man my mother is married to. I highly suggest you put that wand down, I think I can shoot my rifle off before you can hit my baby sister with a spell.”
It was then that the French witch saw a long piece of metal in his hands with what appeared to be some type of visual aid attached to it. It was thinner at the end than at the part near his under arm and pointed up towards the Butcher of Nimes.
“Who do you think you are getting in the way of my prey?”
The boy squeezed his finger over something and a loud bang sounded; Fleur flinched, covering her ears in pain at the echoing blast.
When she looked up the man was gone and the boy was moving through the water with ease, the weapon resting on his shoulder as he walked. “Are you two okay?” His voice was full with nothing but concern as he crouched next to them, checking the two girls for any sign of external injuries.
“I didn’t even think to ask! Are you alright? We had a tumble down the hill but you’ve been running from that man.”
“What is that?”
The siblings laughed and Fleur pulled herself up, offering her hand to the younger witch.
XxXxXxXxXxXx
They walked together in silence for a while, with Brian in the lead - gun in hand (at least that was what Hermione had called it, she wasn’t particularly savvy on Muggle weapons of war). It was Fleur who broke the silence, cocking her head to the side to get a better look at the soaked girl next to her. “You attend ‘ogwarts, then?”
Hermione’s eyes lit up and Fleur noted a distinct bounce in her step upon mention of Hogwarts, “yes. I’ll be in Fourth Year on first of September. I’m quite excited for classes to start again!”
Fleur’s lips twitched upwards in amusement, “tell me about it? I ‘ave only read a few books with vague references about it.”
“Oh no… you’ve gone and gotten her started all over again. I swear if she starts reciting passages from Hogwarts: A History-”
“Shut up, Brian.” Hermione hissed, glaring at her brother before glancing to Fleur and leaping into an explanation about Hogwarts. "All of the students are sorted into four houses: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin. Gryffindors are chosen for their courage and bravery. Ravenclaws are chosen for their intelligence, knowledge and wit… Hufflepuffs for their hard work, loyalty and determination." She took pause and stuck her hands in the damp pockets of her jacket, “Slytherins are chosen for their ambition, cunning and resourcefulness.” Fleur’s lips twitched upwards in amusement, the girl obviously held some disdain for that particular house. “Most of the Professors have wonderful teaching curriculums." Hermione took a breath, looking abashed, “you go to Beauxbatons I presume?”
“Oui.”
“And that is in Marseilles?”
“Ou-” Fleur paused and looked at the teenager, “’ow did you know that? The location of Beauxbatons is kept ‘idden, just as ‘Ogwarts is.”
An impish smile crossed over Hermione’s features, “I merely deduced it from hints given throughout various obscure texts.”
“You are very smart for your age, no?”
Brian glanced over his shoulder, “she’s merely an extremely logical, bookish, nerd.”
The teen bristled, nostrils flaring at her brother’s accusation, “and you, dear brother, are an obnoxious, egotistical twit.”
“Love you too, ‘mione.” Brian smirked, hopping over a fallen tree with near flamboyant gusto before turning and offering his hand, “ladies, may I?”
Fleur smiled politely and took his hand as she clambered up and over the tree followed closely by Hermione.
XxXxXxXxXxXx
A/N: Please review, I love reviews, they inspire me to write and - as always, I reply to every single review (that isn’t anonymous because I can’t like… PM Review Reply… oh LJ how I love you). Hopefully this round works with only making Fleur’s accent a little accenty ;)
“Merci de m'avoir sauvé la vie!” Roughly translates to “thanks for saving my life” at least I hope. I never studied French, only Russian - forgive me if I butcher anyone’s native tongue. There won’t be much of it, I swear!