Inspired by DeMoKa.

This one's a bit of a flop, and a bit random. Why the heck am I writing more femslash than slash?!?!?! I guess it's because I oneshot femslash – so much easier. Sigh. I just keep seeing these beautiful scenes that have nothing/little to do with sex. Sex slash. Emotion femslash. There is no shipping going on here, peoples. glares randomly

Dedicated to anyone who has ever loved someone who is interested solely in another gender.

A sad oneshot, slightly AU/OOC.


She laughs, low and intimate, leaning into Alan's arms, her hand in his. He watches her with the same speculative thrill as all the rest. He tries to move closer, to surround her with his arms, but she holds back, stiffly. After a few moments of evading him, she makes a choice and leans into him, and they embrace. They even kiss, a slow, hot press of lips and tongues. He pushes her up against the stone wall, and she moans, making out in earnest. Her silky blonde hair tumbles free and falls around her face, getting stuck in their parted lips.

Hermione doesn't even bother to leave. They'll be done in a moment anyway, when he inevitably tries for one base too many, and Fleur will push him off her, annoyed and furious. She might even slap him, and he will never even know what happened. Then she'll storm off, rant a little, swear herself off men for life and get back together with Alan with a greater passion in a week.

She likes the ones who are really male, tall, strong. She loves the ones that are a bit cool, collected, even a little cocky. If they kiss her hard and fast and without asking, although she pretends to be outraged, she likes it. She then makes them proceed 'slowly', court her, taking a liberty every now and then to keep her interested. Then they go too far and she dumps them.

Hermione continues to scan the same line of text over and over again, willing herself to concentrate, frowning as she tries unsuccessfully to remember what she is reading, and not to think about Fleur and Alan.

Suddenly she thinks she feels Fleur's eyes on her, and she looks up immediately, perking. She looks over to their entangled bodies, Fleur's eyes closed in rapture. A sharp pang of illogical disappointment fills her, and she turns back to the book, turning a page for the sake of appearances.

Sorrow and longing and frustration weigh down upon her, swamping her.

She stares into her page. She is embarrassed for them when a passing girl yells at them to get a room. Embarrassed for Fleur.

She still looks beautiful.


Fleur glides through the library, picking up a book here and there, letting the pages fan out as she considers the blurb. She sees Hermione and smiles, wanders over. She kisses the air on both sides of Hermione's cheeks, and Hermione haltingly follows suit. She is not accustomed to that method of greeting, and it still feels awkward. She feels like she should be putting her hands somewhere, but she just lets them hang by her sides.

The both smile, and sit down. Hermione lights up when Fleur comes to her, all milky white skin and long, straight hair. And her smile. Her smile is a present, the best present. She has different smiles. She has smiles of genuine joy, frustrated smiles for Gabrielle, loving, sisterly smiles, also for Gabrielle, flirty, dangerous smiles for men, dangerous smiles anyway, cold smiles for when she's pissed off, fake smiles for adults, appreciative smiles, and loving smiles.

They talk, but it's polite, friendly. Empty. It leaves Hermione feeling worse for the wear, even though she had hoped all day just to see the other girl for a moment, at least. To see her smile in her direction.


Hermione lay in her dorm bed, staring up at the russet coloured drapes and the gold fringing. The moon illuminated the room. She lay with her eyes wide open, sleep evading her as she thought about Fleur. She always thought just before she slept, and so she generally never did get enough actual sleep.

She brushed a hand through her bushy tangle of hair, annoyed as her hand got caught in the mess. As she painfully extricated her fingers, she thought about how beautiful Fleur's hair was. How perfect. Fleur was probably with Alan now.

Hermione shook her head, frowning. She should forget about this insanity. She should be focussing on her studies, she was getting behind on her Charms notes she was so distracted. It wasn't good for her. It just wasn't good for her. She would stop this foolishness right that second.

She closed her eyes.


The stars are scattered over the cold, inky black sky. The moon is trapped beyond opaque clouds and the grounds are still and chilly. The Forbidden Forest is an encroaching black sea that threatens to swallow up the school. There Fleur stands, half in the glow of the single lamplight, and half engulfed by the darkness, serene and untouchable, and burning with something ethereal and mysterious.

She comes to Hermione, who sinks gratefully into her arms at last, giddiness invading her. They kiss and pleasure fills Hermione up to the brim, and time slows down to the consistency of thick honey, sweet and delicious. She knows beyond all doubt that everything is just perfect.


She wakes up, and the longing wracks her for a moment. Then she gets up and continues the day, which is just like every other.



Actually, reviews would be nice. I'm terribly sorry for writing a sad fic – I hate them too. But this kind of...emerged. Sorry!!!!winces