Part 3

Hermione POV

The days that followed were strangely heavy with expectation.Hermione had sent two — no, three — carefully worded letters to Fleur, proposing meetings to begin their joint work.

First, she had suggested coffee at her flat. A casual, neutral space.Fleur's reply had been polite but firm:

"I would prefer the Ministry. I have just returned from France and have personal matters to arrange before I can begin official work."

A second letter offering a quiet cafe in Diagon Alley was met with much the same answer, only more succinct.

By the time the third response arrived — this time, a crisp official note on pale blue stationery — Hermione could practically feel the chill coming off the parchment.

"Ministry only. Please coordinate via your assistant."

Hermione sat back in her chair in her office, the note dangling from her fingers.Jake Podmore bustled around outside her office, humming to himself — utterly oblivious to the small, strange knot forming in Hermione's chest.

She frowned slightly, folding the letter with careful precision.Had she done something wrong at the ball? Had she somehow offended Fleur without realizing it?

The coolness in Veela's words was impossible to ignore — so different from the warmth they had shared that night under the golden chandeliers.The fleeting closeness of the dance, the low, musical lilt of Fleur's laugh near her ear — it all seemed like a different world now. Like a dream she had only imagined.

Hermione tapped the letter against her desk, deep in thought.

Maybe Fleur simply needed time.After all, returning to the UK after weeks away — and managing a family on top of it — couldn't be easy.Besides, Hermione reminded herself sternly, their collaboration was supposed to be professional.

You're being ridiculous, she scolded herself internally. This is work. That night was just... magic. Nothing more.

Still, some restless part of her kept returning to Fleur's last glance before she disappeared from the ballroom.The one Hermione hadn't been able to stop replaying in her mind, late at night when London's city lights blurred against her window.

Hermione shook herself and scribbled a quick memo for Jake to set up the first official meeting — at the Ministry, according to Madam Delacour's preference.

If Fleur wanted distance, Hermione would respect it.She always respected boundaries. Especially after everything she had been through.

But she couldn't quite silence the small, persistent voice whispering that something had shifted — and that she was about to find out just how much.

Hermione adjusted the cuff of her blazer before stepping into the designated conference room on the fifth floor of the Ministry.The room was sterile, cold — tall windows, stone floors — nothing like the warm, swirling magic of the Veela ball.

Fleur was already there, her blonde hair perfectly in place, an elegant cream coat casually draped over the back of her chair.She looked the same as always — radiant, composed — as if no time had passed at all.But when their eyes met, Hermione caught something beneath Fleur's polished surface.Something tight. Guarded.

"Bonjour, Hermione," Fleur greeted her softly, placing a sleek folder on the table in front of her."I'm sorry it took me so long to respond. We've had... family matters to attend to."

Hermione nodded as she sat down opposite her, pulling out her own notes.

"I understand. Family is important."

Fleur lifted a delicate brow with a small smile.

"We were preparing for a christening. Lily — Harry and Ginny's daughter. Bill was named godfather."

There was a softness to her voice when she spoke, something sincere and bright.

Hermione stiffened.

Lily's christening.Bill — godfather.News that, in another lifetime, she would have heard over a cup of tea, laughing with Ginny, maybe bickering with Harry over absurd name suggestions.But that world was long gone.

"Oh," Hermione said, barely finding her voice. The word seemed to splinter and fall between them.

Fleur's smile faltered.

"You did not know?"

Hermione shook her head, trying to keep her hands from trembling.

"No... I... I haven't spoken to Harry. Or Ginny. For... three years now."

Fleur's eyes widened, genuine shock flashing across her face.

"Three years... Mon dieu, Hermione..."

Hermione shrugged, forcing a neutral tone.

"After I broke up with Ron... everything fell apart. Harry... chose family. The Weasleys." She gave a small, bitter smile. "It made sense. Ginny is his wife. Ron is his best mate."

Hermione glanced down at her notes, pretending to check something urgent just to avoid looking Fleur in the eye.

"What I know about them now," she added quietly, "I read in the papers. If they happen to be mentioned."

Fleur was silent for a moment.The silence was thick, heavy with something Hermione couldn't name.

Finally, Fleur cleared her throat gently.

"Alors... we work, non?"

Hermione managed a stiff smile and nodded.

They worked.Or at least, they tried.

Hermione outlined the key proposals, talking through the integration procedures, the documentation Veelas would need to acquire full magical citizenship. Fleur nodded along, making polite suggestions — sharp, clever ones — but there was a strange... undercurrent in the room.Something that made it harder to breathe.

Fleur kept twirling a silver quill between her fingers, her gaze drifting to the window more often than the parchment.

Hermione paused mid-sentence, noticing.

"Is something wrong?" she asked carefully, closing her folder for a moment.

Fleur blinked, almost startled, as if caught daydreaming.

"No, no," she said quickly, flashing a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I am just... adjusting. It's my second visit in the Ministry and I noticed a lot of changes... and seeing you again... it's strange how our lives drifted apart after war."

Hermione nodded, though she couldn't really relate. For her, the war had been traumatic, but it wasn't the war that left Hermione friendless. It was her friends' choices to leave her when she didn't want to fit in.

For a few minutes they managed to steer back to the project, but Hermione could feel Fleur's focus faltering again.There was a question hovering between them — unspoken but thick in the air.

Finally, as Hermione reached for her coffee cup, Fleur spoke, voice light, casual.

"And you, Hermione?" she asked, tilting her head. "Your life... outside work? Is there someone special?"

Hermione almost spilled the coffee.

She coughed once, setting the cup down too quickly.

"Oh, no," she said, forcing a laugh. "Nothing like that. I'm... focused on my work."

Fleur smiled softly, but there was something else behind it — a kind of sadness, maybe.

"You are... formidable," Fleur said. "But everyone deserves... more than work."

Hermione shrugged, brushing imaginary lint from her sleeve.

"Work is... safe," she said, before she could stop herself. She cleared her throat. "Anyway, I'm hardly a thrilling prospect these days."

Fleur opened her mouth as if to argue, but thought better of it.

Instead, she leaned back slightly, studying Hermione with a warmth that made the brunette's cheeks heat.

Hermione quickly pulled the nearest document toward her, pretending to review it.

"Right," she said briskly. "Shall we continue?"

Fleur only nodded — but her smile lingered, almost wistful.