Part 11

Hermione POV

Later, as the evening drew in, Hermione met Astoria at a fancy restaurant, a lavish affair on the highest floor of a glass skyscraper that gleamed against the darkening sky. The city stretched endlessly below, twinkling with lights. The whole place was a symphony of luxury — a stark contrast to the mess of emotions Hermione had left behind at home.

Astoria greeted her with a soft, affectionate kiss on the cheek, and handed her a velvet box. Inside was a stunning necklace, a brilliant piece in Gryffindor colors, a gift from France.

"I saw this and thought of you," Astoria said, her voice warm. "It suits you. I thought you'd look nice in this when you accompanied me to the annual Veelas ball this year. You'll shine like my crown jewel." Astoria added, admiring the necklace and Hermione felt uneasy at the comparison.

The gift was beautiful, but it didn't erase the constant swirl of thoughts in her head. "Thank you, Astoria," she said, managing a smile, though it felt tight on her lips.

Astoria's eyes lit up with pleasure, but as they sat down to their meal, the unease settled deeper in Hermione. Astoria was regaling her with tales from her time in France, stories of the prestigious family she had been dealing with, the plans they were putting into motion. Hermione nodded, but her attention kept slipping away, drawn back to the scene at home, Fleur in her kitchen, the bruises on her face, Victoire's innocent laughter — the two of them alone in her apartment.

She forced herself to focus on Astoria, who was now explaining some intricate detail of her dealings with the French magical world. But Hermione couldn't help the way her thoughts kept wandering. Her mind kept returning to Fleur. The bruised cheek, the swollen eye, the tension that still lingered in the air between them.

Astoria paused, noticing Hermione's distracted look. "You're not really listening, are you?" she asked sharply, her smile faltering.

Hermione blinked, snapping back into the moment. "Sorry," she said quickly. "I'm just... tired. It's been a lot."

Astoria's eyes narrowed slightly. "Tired? Or preoccupied?"

Hermione didn't know what to say. She knew what Astoria was hinting at, and she felt a flash of irritation. Why did everything feel like it had to be about Fleur now? Why couldn't Astoria see that she was trying to deal with things in her own way?

"Can we talk about this later?" Hermione muttered, barely looking up from her wine. "I... I just want to enjoy this evening."

Astoria's lips pressed into a thin line. "You know, I really don't understand why you're still so caught up in her. Fleur made her choices. She chose Bill. She chose that... that life."

The blonde said it with such distaste that Hermione was taken aback.

"Just because she chose this doesn't mean she doesn't need help now." The brunette pointed out, grabbing a glass of wine and taking a sip.

"Yes...poor little Fleur...Everyone gives her second chances, yet she doesn't take them, feeling superior to others. I'll never understand that." Astoria said thoughtfully, looking out the window, where the city was ablaze with lights and no stars were visible. "Since childhood, only what Fleur wanted mattered... everyone had to obey because she was the heir to the head of the clan..." Aurelie said gloomily. "Until she left for the UK, supposedly to improve her English, but in reality to chase after a guy who didn't have the courage to ask Fleur's family, especially her grandmother, for her hand in marriage... And yet..." Aurelie shook her head and chuckled, turning to Hermione. "And yet Fleur married him, abandoning her true mate, a mate who is worth so many times more than that bastard, a mate who would never raise a hand to her... who is unconsciously drawn to her like a moth to a flame."

Hermione put down her glass. Her heart began to beat faster.

"You know who her mate is, Aurelie?"

The blonde leaned back in her chair and laughed mirthlessly.

"Of course I do. I know everything about my clan, Hermione. How could I not know who my dear cousin is meant to be, who threatens my position even as she has excluded herself from our community!" Hermione was increasingly disliking this version of the woman. She now resembled more of a predatory Veela than the flirtatious, confident, and romantic young woman Hermione had come to know.

"So? Who is he...?" she asked again.

"It's a she, not he..." Aurelie said nonchalantly, but Hermione noticed how upset she actually was. "You really don't know Hermione? You really don't know why you and Fleur are drawn to each other like two halves of a magnet? Why can't you stop thinking about her, even after she rejected you? Why do you still want to protect her, go back to her, knowing that she can't offer you anything, even when I could lay the world at your feet?"

Hermione froze. Understanding was smoldering inside her. Maybe it was there before, but she didn't let herself think in those terms...

"It's me... right?" She asked quietly.

Aurelie became serious, this time her face became sad.

"Of course it's you."

"And she... Fleur... does she know?" The brunette asked even more quietly.

"Veela knows as soon as she feels her mate's presence nearby. So yes... Fleur definitely knows, for years..." Aurelie said, this time her voice sounded a bit like sympathy.

"And... and she... even though she knew... she chose someone else? Why...?" Hermione felt like she was shrinking. She could hardly hold back her tears.

"I don't know the answer to that question, ma belle." Aurelie said quietly, handing her a handkerchief.

FLEUR POV

Fleur heard the door open and close, followed by the sound of footsteps — heavy, tired, and almost defeated. As Hermione entered, Fleur immediately sensed it. She wasn't herself. The tension that had been simmering inside Fleur flared up, but she struggled to hide it. She smiled faintly, trying to keep up the appearance of composure, but there was no mistaking the surge of jealousy she felt at the thought of Hermione and Astoria together.

Hermione collapsed onto the couch, her gaze distant, lost in thought. Fleur couldn't help but notice how her friend's face was lined with exhaustion, her body slumped in a way that only came from emotional strain. Fleur's pulse quickened, and she knew something had changed, something big, but she kept her voice steady.

"What happened, Hermione?" she asked softly, trying to keep her tone neutral, though the flutter in her chest betrayed her calm exterior.

Hermione didn't answer immediately. She looked up at Fleur, her eyes red, her face pale. When she finally spoke, her words hit with a quiet force that made Fleur's heart lurch.

"Astoria... she told me something..." Hermione's voice trembled, and she paused, trying to gather herself. Fleur felt her stomach tighten.

"What did she tell you?" Fleur asked, her own voice barely above a whisper, bracing herself.

Hermione met her eyes then, and Fleur could see the pain, the hurt, the betrayal. It hit Fleur harder than she expected.

"She told me that... I'm your mate," Hermione said, her voice cracking slightly. "Why didn't you ever tell me? Why did you choose Bill? Why did you leave me with nothing but confusion?"

The weight of Hermione's words fell on Fleur like a boulder, and for a moment, she couldn't breathe. The room seemed to close in around her. She had always known this moment would come, but nothing could have prepared her for hearing those words in the lowest moment of her life.

Fleur's heart ached, but she took a deep breath, swallowing the wave of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. She knew what had to be said, but even so, the words felt like they were stuck in her throat.

"I... I knew, Hermione," Fleur said quietly. "I knew when you came to Shell Cottage after... after Bellatrix tortured you. I felt it then, that bond between us. I felt it pulling me toward you... but I didn't know how to say it. I couldn't." She paused, her hand shaking slightly as she wiped away a tear that had escaped her eyes. "You had a mission, you had your path. And I... I was married, Hermione. I had made vows. I loved Bill. I couldn't... I didn't know how to tell you."

Fleur took a moment, feeling the weight of her own words settle in. She didn't know how to explain everything that had happened since.

"And then... I found out I was pregnant. And you were with Ron. You had your life, and I had mine. I couldn't... I didn't want to put that on you. You had your friends, your work... and I... I had my family too. My life with Bill." Fleur's voice faltered, but she pushed on. "And then we drifted apart. I couldn't tell you, Hermione. I didn't know how."

Hermione's eyes were wide, her lips trembling as she tried to process the flood of emotions rushing at her. Fleur could see the pain, the confusion, and something else — something she didn't want to name.

"I didn't want to hurt you, Hermione," Fleur said, her voice soft but steady. "I didn't know what to do. I was... I was young, and everything felt so... impossible."

Hermione's face crumpled as she wiped away the tears threatening to fall. "But why? Why didn't you say anything? Why didn't you fight for us?" Her voice was barely audible, and Fleur could hear the desperation in it.

Fleur sighed deeply, her chest tightening with emotion. "I didn't know how to fight for us, Hermione. I didn't know what was right. I was scared. I didn't want to hurt you, and I didn't want to hurt Bill. And I thought... maybe if I just... let go of it, let go of you, it would all go away. But it didn't."

The room was thick with silence, both women trying to find the right words, the right way to piece together everything that had been broken. Fleur felt like she was standing on the edge of a cliff, not sure whether to jump or to hold on.

Hermione's voice cracked as she spoke, the tears she had been holding back now spilling over. "It hurts so much, Fleur," she whispered, barely able to look at her. "I... I thought that with Veela's bond, everything is meant to be perfect, that mates could never hurt each other. But this... this is worse than anything Ron ever said to me. Worse than his betrayal. Because you were supposed to be my other half. My match. And you chose Bill over me, over your mate."

Fleur's throat tightened, and she took a deep breath, trying to steady herself before responding. "It's not as simple as that. It wasn't about choosing him over you, or even about what I wanted. It was about my life at that time. I had made vows. I had a family, a life. And then, when I found out I was pregnant... everything changed. I couldn't just abandon everything I had built. I didn't want to ask you to choose that life, to choose me. I wanted to protect you from all of it. And... and I thought you were still with Ron, that you had your own life to live."

Hermione's breath hitched, the words stinging deeper than she could have imagined. "I would have chosen you, Fleur. I would have chosen you no matter what. I don't care about the rest. I don't care about Bill or any of that. I would have chosen you."

Fleur stared at her, her heart aching. "But I wasn't sure you could. You didn't know then. You didn't know that time what would you do with your life, you were in the middle of war, then the healing process... Hermione, you only just figured out recently that you are attracted to women! I didn't want to drag you into a life where you might not even be ready for it, where you might not even want it, just because my Veela blood made this choice!"

Finally, Hermione spoke again, her voice low and broken. "I would have chosen you, Fleur. I would have chosen you, even back then. But you... you never gave me the chance."

Fleur's heart shattered at the depth of Hermione's pain. "I didn't want to choose for you, Hermione. I wanted you to make your own choices. But I see now that... I've hurt you in ways I never intended." Fleur's eyes filled with unshed tears as she reached out, her fingers gently brushing Hermione's cheek. "I'm so sorry."

For a long moment after Hermione's whispered question, the only sound in the flat was the ticking of the clock on the wall.

"What are you going to do about Bill?"

The words lingered between them, heavier than the night, heavier than Fleur's own breathing.

Fleur closed her eyes briefly.What was she going to do?

Leave?Stay?

The answers twisted inside her, tangled in guilt, fear, love, duty — and a yearning so raw it almost brought her to her knees.

She thought about Victoire, her sweet laughter in the kitchen that morning.She thought about the life growing inside her — so tiny and fragile still, but hers.She thought about Bill — the man who had once held her with so much love, whose touch now made her flinch.

She thought about Hermione — sitting there, wounded but open, still willing to listen, still willing to care.

"I don't know," Fleur admitted, voice almost breaking. "I wish I could say I have a plan, Hermione... but I don't. I..." she paused, swallowing down the lump in her throat, "I feel like I'm drowning most days. I don't even recognize my own life anymore."

Hermione's eyes softened. She leaned forward slightly, the faintest frown between her brows.

"I'm sorry it came to this," Hermione said gently. "Truly, Fleur. I wouldn't wish this kind of pain on anyone. But... whatever you decide, I'll respect it. I'll respect you."

The quiet sincerity in her voice nearly undid Fleur.

Fleur looked at her — really looked at her — and felt tears prick the corners of her eyes. Hermione deserved so much more than this chaos, this uncertainty. And yet she sat there, steady, offering Fleur the one thing no one else had in a long time: choice. Space to breathe.

"Merci," Fleur whispered, her voice raw.

Hermione offered a tired smile."It's late... maybe we should try to get some sleep," she said, her hand brushing briefly against Fleur's. It was a touch that promised nothing except presence — and Fleur clung to that small mercy like a lifeline.

She nodded numbly, rising to her feet, feeling suddenly exhausted.

They had barely taken a few steps toward the bedrooms when a loud, furious bang echoed through the flat.The front door shook violently under the assault.

Both women froze.

Another blow came — louder this time, rattling the hinges.

"Fleur, I know that you're there! Open this bloody door!"

Bill.

His voice was slurred, thick with drink and rage.

Fleur's heart slammed against her ribs, the sharp, instinctual fear flooding her veins before she could even think.

Hermione reacted first — she reached out, grabbing Fleur's wrist and pulling her slightly behind her, shielding her instinctively, her wand already in hand.

"Stay back," Hermione said, voice low and steady, but Fleur could see the tension in her shoulders.

Another bang.

"You think you can just run off? Take my daughter? My family?!" Bill shouted.

Fleur felt herself trembling. Not just from fear — from shame, from anger, from the awful, creeping realization that whatever illusions she had clung to about Bill — about their life together — were shattering completely now, in this moment.

"I'm calling the Aurors," Hermione said under her breath, but Fleur caught her wrist, stopping her.

"Let me — let me try first," she whispered.

Hermione hesitated — clearly unwilling — but nodded slowly.

Fleur stepped toward the door, her hand hovering over the handle.

"Bill," she called out, loud enough to be heard through the wood. "Go home. You're drunk."

A low, humorless laugh came from the other side. "I'm your husband, Fleur! And I have the right to take you away from here! As well as my daughter!" Fleur flinched. The words hit like a slap — not because they were true, but because they echoed every guilt and doubt she'd buried inside.

"No," she said, steadier now. "I owe it to my children — and to myself — to be safe."

There was a beat of silence.

Then another slam, furious and desperate.

Hermione raised her wand fully now, her face set like stone."Fleur, please," she said sharply, "Step away from the door."

This time, Fleur obeyed.

Bill cursed and banged once more — but the door, reinforced by Hermione's quick enchantments, held. Fleur backed away slowly, breathing hard.

She knew, in that moment, that the choice had been made for her.

She barely had time to draw a breath.

"Bombarda!"

The spell exploded against the door with a deafening roar.Wood splintered like paper, sharp fragments blasting inward with terrifying force.

Fleur cried out as a shard tore across her arm — a hot, slicing pain — and she stumbled backward, shielding her face.Hermione gasped too — blood blooming quickly where a splinter had grazed her temple — but she moved faster, instincts razor-sharp, wand snapping up.

"Protego!" Hermione shouted, a shimmering barrier bursting into life just in time to block Bill's wild, furious lunge.

"You bitch!" Bill roared, spittle flying from his lips as he slammed into the shield.His eyes were bloodshot, crazed, utterly unrecognizable.

Fleur could hardly process the sight of him — this man who once held her with tenderness now looked ready to tear her apart with his bare hands.

Behind them, a thin, terrified wail echoed from the bedrooms —Victoire.

The sound of her daughter's fear cut through Fleur like a knife.

"You're fucking her, aren't you?!" Bill screamed, slamming his fists against the barrier again. "You lying whore — you think you can just take my kids away from me? I'll see you rot before I let that happen! You're mine!"

Fleur flinched as if he had struck her already.

Hermione, face grim with fury, shot a look at her.

"Fleur — stay behind me," she ordered sharply.

Fleur couldn't even nod — she was frozen, heart hammering painfully against her ribs, her mind a mess of terror and heartbreak and shame.

Hermione's wand moved fast — she summoned a silver, otter-shaped Patronus that darted off through the shattered doorway with a flick of her wrist.The message was clear and urgent: Help. Now.

Bill screamed again, hurling another spell — but Hermione's Protego absorbed it with a crackling hum.

Everything was happening too fast.Fleur couldn't breathe.

She watched as Bill raged, watched the man she had married — the man she had loved — spit venom at her as if she were nothing more than a stranger.

"You're nothing, Fleur! You're worthless without me!" he shouted, eyes wild.

Fleur pressed both hands to her mouth, stifling a sob.

A sudden series of loud cracks filled the air — and then Aurors in dark robes flooded the apartment.

Bill didn't even get a chance to react.

"Expelliarmus!" one shouted — Bill's wand flew from his hand.Another Auror seized him roughly, slamming him against the broken remains of the doorframe.

"William Weasley, you are under arrest for assault, illegal use of magic, and endangering minors. You have the right to remain silent..."

Bill fought like a wild animal, shouting incoherently, but the Aurors bound his hands with magic, forcing him down.

It was only then — when Bill was subdued, and the room was full of strangers and chaos — that Fleur realized she was shaking uncontrollably.

Hermione gently touched her arm, murmuring something she couldn't hear.

Fleur turned to her numbly.

Blood trickled down her forearm. Hermione had a thin stream of it running down her temple.

The Aurors were speaking to them — someone was asking for Fleur's wand, asking her if she could give a statement — but it all blurred.

One voice cut through the fog:

"Madam Delacour-Weasley, you will need to report to the Ministry tomorrow morning for an official hearing."

Fleur nodded stiffly, feeling as if her head were no longer attached to her body.

Victoire sobbed in the distance.

Hermione squeezed her hand.

"Go to her," Hermione said softly, voice thick with emotion. "I'll take care of everything else."

Fleur stumbled toward the bedroom — toward her daughter — toward the only thing that still made sense.