Part 9

FLEUR She disappeared, just like that, leaving her alone. Fleur lay in bed, helpless. Feeling worse than ever, even when she trembled for her daughter's life. She felt fear and despair. She touched the mark on her neck with her fingers and felt only the scar from the bite. A sign that their bond was sealed. They were complete, and yet Fleur didn't feel any better knowing that Hermione would be hers forever. Especially when the brunette was so angry at her! Fleur could feel the fullness of Hermione's feelings now and that alone made her cry. Hermione felt what Fleur felt and uncontrollable anger, helplessness. And disgust... after what she had done to the blonde. Veela wanted to tell her that it was okay, that she deserved this, every bite and pain inflicted. She didn't know how long she lay there. The slamming of the door tore her from her lethargy. From under her narrowed eyes she noticed Hermione, who looked like she was crying. Her hair was tousled and leaves stuck to her tunic, which was torn in some places, and covered in mud and blood. Fleur immediately jumped up, approaching the woman and stopping her. She looked at her carefully, she had to check where the blood was coming from. If her wife was injured. "I am fine." Hermione said in a broken voice. Fleur didn't listen though, scanning the brunette's body and gently sliding her clothes off. She saw a long tear on her calf and scratches on her arms that resembled nail scratches, she glanced at Hermione's hands, noticing that her nails were bloody and broken. "Come on." She pulled her into the bathroom and locked them together in the shower. Hermione was numb, she let Fleur wash herself. The blonde gently washed the brunette's body and hair, watching the blood and mud disappear down the drain. Hermione leaned her back against the wall, looking at Fleur and wincing as she saw the marks on her wife's body from their recent activity. "I'm sorry. It won't happen again." She croaked, covering her eyes with her hands, her body shaking with sobs. This time it was Fleur who carefully approached her, hugging her. It was only when she felt their hearts beating close together and their naked bodies glued together that she felt calm, amidst all the chaos. "I don't blame you for anything, ma cherie." She whispered.

The next morning they went straight to Cecile so that she could start treating Victoire. Later, Hermione went with Armand to the Ministry of Magic without a word to legalize the marriage. Fleur was left alone with her grandmother, who glanced at her briefly. "She's not herself... and neither are you." Cecile pointed out. Fleur sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. Her grandmother shook her head. "You've always been stubborn. When will you finally understand that our blood is not a curse? It doesn't make you worse than others, or less worthy of Hermione..." Cecile pointed out, revealing all the blonde's dilemmas. "Child, our souls always know who is our complement, who is worthy of being with us and who we are worthy of. It has always been and still is... simple. It's a wonderful thing when our souls know before we do." "Tell that to those who have been rejected..." Fleur muttered.

"Usually there is a very important reason or obstacle, like age or dark magic... However, Hermione accepted you without hesitation, it was you who rejected her... that is very rare for Veelas." Cecile stroked the hair of the sleeping Victoire, who was slowly starting to wake up. "You have dragged this on too long, granddaughter. Come to terms with your nature and the world and start living. Otherwise you will condemn others to suffering, especially those closest to you." "Exactly, Fleur." Aurelie snorted as she entered the cottage. "You could have continued to play with your wizard and left Hermione alone. Now she is even more unhappy than before. You always play at someone's expense. You attract innocent beings and then destroy their hearts." "Aurelie, that's enough." Cecile said firmly. Fleur sat there frozen, looking at her cousin angrily, her inner Veela wanted to tear the blonde to pieces for daring to kiss Hermione.

"I only told the truth." Aurelie shrugged, turning her gaze to Victoire. "Only a blind man wouldn't notice the resemblance to Hermione." She chuckled sadly and hurried out of the cottage.

Fleur looked at her daughter, who was wandering around the unfamiliar place, and her lips began to tremble. Fear appeared in her large brown eyes.

"It's okay, honey. Mummy's here." Fleur rushed to the girl, picking her up and rocking her.

HERMIONE

At the ministry, it went smoothly. True, she had to assure the official several times that she had not been forced into this wedding, and Armand confirmed her statement. They were both given Veritaserum. Hermione considered it barbaric, but there was little she could do. She felt bad, not only because of the bad night's sleep, the incident with Fleur or the concern for Victoire, but also because being away from her wife caused her physical pain. Although now the brunette would give a lot to separate herself from the blonde a little. She was still torn by anger, as well as a sense of guilt, lust and the need for closeness to protect her family. Cecile had said that at first it would be difficult for the young couple to be apart, and their sexual appetite would flourish, driving them almost mad... it was a pity that she had already mentioned the latter after the ceremony. "Are we going back, or do you want to look around Paris some more?" Armand asked, smiling warmly at her. "I want to stay for a while if you don't mind." "Of course. We'll wait for you at home. Apolline is preparing a family dinner. Now you can also freely pass through the gates of the reserve, you don't need a guide." He added and then apparated away.

Hermione looked at her watch. It was early afternoon. And Paris was bustling with life. The brunette sighed, ignoring the pain in her chest and set off along the banks of the Seine. A plan on how to move on with her life was slowly forming in her head. She decided to send applications to nearby magical hospitals soon. And if she didn't get a positive response, then she would try muggle medicine. She knew she shouldn't be near Fleur now, she had to focus on something else. She wanted them to be a family, but she wasn't ready for that. Her heart was still hurting from those years of rejection. And she didn't fully trust that Fleur had been honest with her the previous night. Which words should she trust? Now she could feel more of the blonde's emotions, but her mind still made her doubt. Was it possible that Fleur wanted to protect Hermione, that's why she rejected her? Was this just another trick, now that there was no going back to Bill? Her head was spinning from these thoughts and her eyes fell on the bar nearby. Struggling with herself, she went there. When she left an hour later and apparated in front of the gates of the reserve, she had a firm resolution to stay as far away from Fleur as possible. That changed when she saw the blonde in the garden, holding Victoire on her lap and laughing at the girl's attempts to touch her hair, which seemed golden in the glow of the setting sun. Hermione swallowed, her desire almost unbearable. Fleur immediately turned towards her, blushing deeply, probably feeling her wife's arousal. "Fuck." The brunette cursed, nervously running her fingers through her mane of hair, and approached them. Victoire immediately reached out her tiny hands to her and Hermione grabbed her, lifting her up to herself. Hermione hugged her tightly, speechless with emotion. Her throat tightened as Victoire wrapped her arms around her neck awkwardly. The brunette looked at her wife, who had gotten up from the ground and was looking at them with tears in her eyes. Hermione could see and feel the immense guilt she was struggling with at that moment.

"I think we should visit your parents, Fleur. Armand said something about having dinner together." "Of course." Fleur frowned. "Maybe we should change into something more casual?" Hermione nodded. Her muggle clothes were indeed becoming uncomfortable. Carrying Victoire, they entered the house after the blonde and the girl immediately ran to her toys in the corner of the living room. The brunette went to the bedroom where she found a comfortable green dress and sandals in the modest wardrobe. She was just undressing when Fleur came out of their bathroom. "I'm sorry." The blonde blushed but didn't look away. "Can I..." she hesitated, swallowing and looking uncertainly at her wife. "Can I touch you?" Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Even hold your hand or cuddle... it's just that I've been feeling bad all day since you were gone and I'd like to rest a bit."

"Oh..." Hermione mumbled, hastily putting on her robe and approaching her wife. Fleur chose a blue tunic that emphasized her eyes and Hermione was mesmerized. She pulled the blonde towards her and both moaned in relief as their bodies touched. 

"I've missed this all day. Forgive me..." Fleur mumbled, snuggling closer and the brunette felt soft kisses on her neck. Fleur traced her neck with her tongue. Hermione moaned feeling the wetness between her legs. Veela must have felt it too because she hummed with appreciation. Her hand went to her wife's waist and after a moment it dug under her dress. Hermione moaned quietly feeling Fleur's fingers gently massaging her clit through the skimpy panties she was wearing. But the sensation intensified when the blonde touched the sensitive skin beneath them, continuously stroking her wet clitoris. After a moment, her body tensed and relaxed, riding off her orgasm on Fleur's hand.

Fleur pulled her hand out and licked her fingers, which aroused a new wave of arousal in the British girl. This time, however, Hermione led Fleur to the bed and knelt in front of her, sticking her head under the blue tunic and disappearing under it. She immediately felt how wet the blonde was for her as she slid her soaked panties down. She dipped her tongue into her sweet pussy and licked mercilessly, hearing Fleur's encouraging muffled moans, she continued. However, when she stuck two fingers inside her, the French girl's body shuddered and her walls tightened around Hermione's fingers, squirting a new wave of mucus.

"My god..." Fleur murmured as Hermione emerged from under her tunic.

Hermione felt her heart pounding as she knelt there, still slightly trembling from the intensity of what had just happened. Fleur lay before her, breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling. Their bond hummed softly in the background, a constant reminder of the invisible tether between them. But even now, as the warmth of their closeness surrounded her, Hermione's doubts lingered.

She pulled back, adjusting her dress. The look in Fleur's eyes was full of longing, of regret, of something deeper than either of them could fully comprehend. But Hermione's mind was already turning—thinking about the long road ahead of them, about the unresolved pain. She couldn't escape the feeling that this connection, however physical and real it felt in these moments, wasn't enough to bridge the years of distance that had grown between them.

"We should go," Hermione muttered, stepping back. "Your parents will be waiting."

Fleur nodded, her face flushed, a mix of desire and hurt clouding her features. Hermione noticed the way her wife bit her lip, the way she struggled to mask her emotions. There was still that guilt—so tangible between them, a third presence in the room. Neither spoke as they finished getting ready.

Dinner with the Delacours was quiet, the usual warm conversation subdued by the undercurrent of tension between Hermione and Fleur. Victoire, oblivious to the complex emotions swirling around her, babbled happily in her high chair, playing with a small wooden wand that Apolline had carved for her. Fleur sat next to Hermione, her body close but not touching. Each time their hands grazed, Hermione felt an electric shock, a reminder of their unresolved connection. And every time, she withdrew, unsure of how to handle the flood of feelings.

Apolline cast a worried glance at her daughter and her daughter-in-law but said nothing, focusing instead on keeping Victoire entertained. Armand, ever the diplomat, tried to engage Hermione in light conversation, but her mind wandered back to Paris, to the decision she had made—one that now seemed impossible.

She needed distance from Fleur. That much was clear. But how could she achieve that when her body and soul ached for her wife every second they were apart?

After dessert, Victoire began to nod off, her small head drooping against Hermione's shoulder. The sight of their daughter asleep, so innocent and unaware of the storm brewing around her, made something twist painfully inside Hermione. They excused herself and went home, Hermione carried Victoire to bed, glad for the excuse to be away from Fleur, even for a few minutes.

When she returned, Fleur was already waiting for her at the kitchen.

"Do you... want to talk?" Fleur's voice was soft, tentative, and laced with guilt. Hermione hesitated. Part of her wanted to. Part of her wanted to scream at Fleur, to tell her how much she had hurt her, how deeply the rejection had cut. But the other part of her—the part still craving Fleur's touch—knew that talking would only deepen the pain.

"Not tonight," Hermione said, her voice low. "I just need to think."

Fleur nodded slowly, stepping back. "I understand."

But did she? Hermione wasn't sure. As much as she could feel Fleur's regret and shame, she wasn't convinced that Fleur truly grasped the depth of her own betrayal. Fleur had pushed her away for years, married Bill, and then only now, when it was too late, had she decided to embrace their bond. How was Hermione supposed to trust her?

Hermione brushed past her and headed for their shared bedroom. As she lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, the pain in her chest deepened. She could sense Fleur's presence in the house, every movement tugging at their connection. But she refused to reach out. She refused to give in.

The days that followed passed in a blur of awkward silence and brief moments of forced interaction. Hermione threw herself into work, applying to every magical hospital within reach and even looking into Muggle medicine as a backup plan. She wanted to be busy, to distract herself from the constant ache of Fleur's presence.

Meanwhile, Fleur tried, in her own quiet way, to make amends. She would leave small notes for Hermione, or cook her favorite meals, but the guilt weighed heavily on her. Every time she looked at Hermione, she saw the pain she had caused, and it tore her apart. But more than anything, she feared that she had lost Hermione for good.

One evening, after putting Victoire to bed, Hermione found herself standing in the garden, staring out into the darkness. She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering in the cool night air. She heard the soft sound of footsteps behind her and turned to see Fleur standing there, watching her with those same pleading eyes.

"Hermione," Fleur whispered, stepping closer. "Please... can we talk?"

This time, Hermione didn't have the strength to refuse. She turned to face Fleur, her arms still crossed over her chest, her expression guarded.

"What is there to say, Fleur?" she asked, her voice cold. "We're bound to each other, but I don't know if I can ever trust you again. You hurt me."

Fleur winced at the harshness of her words but didn't look away. "I know," she said softly. "And I'm so sorry. I was a coward. I was afraid of what we had, of what it meant to be a Veela, and I thought that pushing you away would keep you safe."

Hermione shook her head, tears stinging her eyes. "But it didn't, Fleur. You didn't keep me safe. You broke my heart."

Fleur stepped closer, her hand reaching out to brush against Hermione's arm. Hermione flinched but didn't pull away.

"I don't know how to fix this," Fleur admitted, her voice cracking. "But I'll do anything. I love you, Hermione. I've always loved you. I just didn't know how to show it."

Hermione closed her eyes, the tears slipping down her cheeks. She wanted to believe Fleur. She wanted to trust her again. But the wounds were still fresh, and the fear of being hurt again was overwhelming.

"I need time," Hermione whispered. "I need time to figure out if I can do this."

Fleur nodded, her own eyes brimming with tears. "I'll give you as much time as you need. Just... don't give up on us. Please."

Hermione looked at her, the vulnerability in Fleur's eyes breaking down some of her defenses. She reached out, her hand trembling, and took Fleur's hand in hers. The connection between them flared to life, and for the first time in days, Hermione allowed herself to feel it fully—the love, the desire, the pain, and the hope.