A/N: I don't own Harry Potter nor the characters within. These are three drabblets (limiting myself to three paragraphs each) I amused myself with when I was in my frenzy of reading Hermione/Fleur fanfiction. Yes, it follows the 'all Veela have a mate, and they know immediately' thing, but I can't help but find that very romantic. *smile* Anyway, hopefully one day I'll start a full-length fic, but until I do, this is all I got.
In the middle of a twirl she was executing perfectly, toes poised to continue the motion, Fleur caught a pair of eyes with her own. Instantly, heat ran up and down her body, and she froze. A switch clicked in her head, and Fleur knew – she knew – that her mate was in the room.
With a wild scream, she lunged forward, plowing through fellow Beauxbaton girls and Hogwarts students alike, heading straight for the wide brown eyes. Ducking a couple of clumsy hexes and jumping over a table of red and gold, Fleur scooped up a small, thin body.
Initially immobile with surprise, the girl could only hold on tightly when the strange foreigner with glowing gold eyes and long, silver-blonde hair took off, smashing through the doors of the Great Hall. Whispering rough yet musical phrases of French into her ear in a pleading tone, the girl bore Hermione Granger away on feet that almost flew.
Soft lips trailed over her face, strong fingers biting into her sides. Loud moans and almost animalistic grunts echoed in her ears as the girl seemed intent on marking her whole body. Broken French phrases were spoken into her skin, sharp teeth nipping here and there. Hermione had long ago lost all will to fight back, the girl's body pressing into hers from above.
Logically, Hermione knew her hands shouldn't be tangled in the girl's hair, and her lips shouldn't be attempting to meet the other's. But they were, and she whimpered, trying to break through the trance the girl seemed to be in. She could feel her heartbeat echoing the one that pounded against her chest, and somehow, she knew that the girl atop her was hers.
Sharp hipbones pressed against her upper thighs, and Hermione finally got a good enough grip on the girl's head; with urgency she didn't know she was capable of, Hermione dragged the girl's lips to hers – and was beautifully, achingly whole.
When fluid, deep kisses were replaced with soft meeting of lips to lips, elegant fingers brushed through Hermione's hair reverently, tucking some stray strands behind her ear. Shivers ran through her body at the delicate touch, her heart jumping at each stroke.
"What is your name?" an achingly beautiful accented voice asked her quietly, the arms holding her pulling her in tight to lie her flush against the girl's body. Snuggling into the warm skin, Hermione curled her hands around a slim waist, feeling like close wasn't close enough. "Hermione," she offered, kissing the palm that slid past her mouth.
"'Ermione," Fleur murmured, closing her eyes, shifting to cover Hermione's body with hers again. Drowning in the soft brown gaze that looked back at her, Fleur smiled and kissed her gently, heart and soul singing at the barest touch. "You?" Hermione asked as they separated, breathless anticipation shining passionately on her face; Fleur quivered as fingers explored up and down her back. "Fleur," she answered softly, her mate's whisper of her name sending fire running through her body. And, just like the first time – they melted into each other, complete.