On Teenagers & Love
a story by anamatics
part three - the fog
Chapter Twelve - On Homecomings
When it is Fleur, rather than Bill, who comes to fetch Hermione Christmas Morning, Hermione finds that she can't quite put into words how she feels. She's happy to see Fleur, yes. She's always happy to see Fleur. There's a sense of finality about leaving her parent's house right now that she can't really put her finger on. She's made up her mind about what she's going to have to do and she hates herself for having to make the choice. Still, she can't find the words to say goodbye to her parents, hugging them and wishing them a happy Christmas instead.
Fleur's face is drawn and worried as she waits just inside Hermione's bedroom door for Hermione to pack her things, this time using the packing spell that she's seen Mrs. Weasley use several times now. Her things fly about the room, shrinking and adjusting themselves to fit adequately in her trunk. The spell is strong, and it takes a lot out of her as she concentrates long and hard to hold the spell in place.
"Zat was razer impressive," Fleur comments quietly when Hermione spells her trunk feather light and turns to smile at her. At the end of her bed is the present her parents have given her, a photo album full of pictures from her childhood. She's spent the morning looking through it, taking in the pictures and ticket stubs and little notes from her parents about those days long past. As she grows older, the time that elapses between the pictures becomes starkly apparent and Hermione hates how there are so few pictures from the recent years. Mrs. Weasley has some, as does Fleur – and Hermione's sure that if she were to ask Colin Creevy that he'd have some as well.
Fleur flicks her wand and shrinks Hermione's trunk and Hermione steps towards the bed to pick up the album. She holds it to her chest like a shield as she follows Fleur down the stairs to say her goodbyes to her parents.
And then, almost too soon, they're out in the cold, wintry morning and Fleur's leaning against Hermione with a sad sort of smile on her face. "Zey will not leave zen?"
Sometimes, it shocks Hermione how perceptive Fleur is. She nods slowly and sighs, taking Fleur's gloved hand when it is offered to her. The familiar tug of apparation pulls them away from the place that Hermione's always thought of as home and into the warm arms of the one person who has come to represent that to her.
Fleur takes them to her apartment in Catterlily Place first, appearing in the hallway just outside the apartment door. She steadies Hermione as they land, and moves her wand carefully over the door, a glowing pale green spell signature rising from the door in runes Hermione only half-recognizes and guesses is a pretty nasty curse. Fleur begins to lower the wards one by one and finally pulls a key ring from her pocket and unlocks the door.
The apartment smells dusty and almost unused. Hermione isn't sure how much time Fleur's spent away, but Fleur turns own the small hallway towards the bedroom and is spelling Hermione's trunk and her own luggage back to its normal size as Hermione sags against the door once she's closed and locked it.
The weight of the world seems like it's on her shoulders and she doesn't quite know what to say to Fleur as she fiddles with her coat and sets the photo album down on the kitchen table. Fleur's brought many of the plants that she'd had lining the balcony inside now, and they line the floor along the walls underneath the wide windows that have Hermione so charmed with this apartment.
"They won't leave – they think it'll blow over. My dad likened it to Germany," Hermione sighs and slumps down onto the sofa, her gaze barely rising to meet Fleur's own as she comes back into the room. "I don't think I have much of a choice," she adds, sharing down at her wand resting in her lap.
"I wonder…" Fleur begins, coming to sit down beside Hermione. They don't have much time; the Weasleys are expecting them both for Christmas dinner. "I wonder if it is a family problem, ze not listening to ze children."
Hermione glances at her sideways. "That bad?"
Fleur shakes her head, the few tendrils of hair that have escaped the braid she'd got it pulled up into flutter around her pale cheeks and Hermione can't quite stop herself from staring. "Maman…" she sighs and sounds almost exasperated. "She zinks zat you are ze one who is making me stay – and no matter 'ow many words I use to tell 'er zat it is my choice to stay, she will not listen."
"I'm sorry," Hermione says quietly. The insecurity grips her and she feels a pang of need, knowing that if Fleur's parents don't accept her promise then the whole thing will be off. The veela book that Fleur gave her has a chapter on unions that are not sanctioned by the matriarch of the veela family, and the implications that follow such a match. Hermione doesn't want Fleur to lose her family, she knows how desperately she misses them, even if the war is slowly destroying their family just as its destroying Hermione's own.
"My grandmozer, 'owever, est extatique," Fleur continues with a wry smile. "She was razer active during ze first war and ze resistance to Grindlewald… I suppose zat it is her opinion zat matters ze most, maman cannot disobey her wishes – well, not overtly."
A smile so wide her cheeks hurt blossoms across Hermione's face and she leans over, not caring that they are late for Christmas dinner at the Burrow or that the couch is dusty and the windows are wide open, and kisses Fleur hard. Fleur's fingers tangle in her hair and her lips are pressed hotly against Hermione's as she pulls Hermione more fully onto her lap. The pressure as her legs straddle Fleur's waist, even through her jeans, is enough to make Hermione's breath hitch and push Fleur back against the sofa, wanting to touch more.
Fleur's tongue flicks a curious path as her lips lower to come and rest on Hermione's neck. They linger on the scar from Bellatrix's knife, gentle kisses soothing the skin that still aches. Hermione wraps her arms around Fleur, wanting to be closer, wanting to feel and to make sure that Fleur understands just how much it means to her that they have at least tacit approval from her grandmother.
"Nous allons être en retard," Fleur whispers in Hermione's ear as she pushes cool hands up and underneath Hermione's shirt. Hermione shivers as Fleur's tongue darts out and sighs breathily as Fleur's lips close around her earlobe, reveling in the feeling of being touched. She is aware, perhaps far more than usual, of the cool metal that encircles Fleur's finger and of the corresponding silver chain around her neck.
"They'll understand," Hermione gasps out. Fleur's fingers have slipped under her bra now, and Fleur's kissing her again. This time there is tongue and teeth and everything that Hermione's been looking for. It's a desperate kiss, the sort that says far more than it leaves unsaid. Hermione gasps and whimpers into the kiss as Fleur's thumbs trace circles around her nipples under her bra. The sensation of quickly warming fingers and the friction of fabric and hands and touch has Hermione's hips rocking into Fleur and Fleur's rocking right back.
Hermione's eyes widen as she feels that firmness there and she tears herself away from the kiss to watch as a lazy smirk blossoms across Fleur's face. "You didn't…" she says and Fleur merely arches an eyebrow and indicates that Hermione should lie down on the couch.
She rises on shaky legs and undoes her jeans and hurriedly pulls them off, realizing that her shoes are still laced tightly to her feet when they're down around her knees. She toes off her shoes hurriedly and kicks the jeans away before dropping to her knees on the cold, dusty floor of the apartment and reaching for Fleur's belt. How she'd managed to do this in the time that she'd been in the other room restoring their bags to normal size and weight is anyone's guess, but Hermione is certainly not complaining.
Magic truly is a fascinating thing, she thinks, fumbling as Fleur's fingers tangle once more in her hair. It's a magical phallus, she's read enough books to know that this is how lesbians sometimes have sex. They've done it before, and she liked it then too, but there's a strange sort of feeling that comes over Hermione as she's on her knees between Fleur's legs. She undoes the buttons on Fleur's pants slowly, watching her with curious eyes as an idea that is certainly not inspired by the old copies of Busty and Bewitched that she'd found underneath Ron's bed last summer (and certainly had not flipped through to satisfy her curiosity) comes to her.
Swallowing, Hermione glances up at Fleur, her fingers closing around the enchanted object she has strapped between her legs. Fleur's eyes flutter shut and her lips part slightly as Hermione trails curious fingers up and down the phallus. "Does that feel good?" she asks and Fleur's blue eyes open once more.
She smiles down at Hermione, her fingers tangling more tightly in Hermione's hair as she nods slowly. "It is enchanted," she says as Hermione doesn't stop the slow, gentle caress of her fingers up and down the length of the toy. "You know zat it does."
A little smile ghosts across Hermione's face and she leans forward, thinking of how much Fleur likes it when Hermione uses her mouth. She places a slow, gentle kiss on the tip of the toy, tongue flicking out and marveling at how warm and real it seems. Above her, Fleur lets out a strangled sort of a gasp, her head falls back against the sofa and her fingers tighten in Hermione's hair. Taking this as a good reaction and once more deciding that she absolutely loves magic, Hermione sucks the head of it into her mouth and flicks her gaze upwards once more.
The expression that's come over Fleur's face is one that Hermione will remember for a long time. It is one of almost complete bliss and Hermione reasons that she is going to have to try this out at some point in the near future, because she wants to know what it's like to experience magical pleasure like that. She sucks and teases and holds Fleur's hips firmly down as they threaten to buck up into her.
"'ermione," Fleur groans and tugs on Hermione's shirt, pulling up away from her task and back up into Fleur's lap. The hardness of the phallus presses against Hermione's stomach and she can't help it as she rolls her hips into it, gasping a little at how utterly turned on she is by this. Fleur's kissing her then, fingers moving from her head to her back to cup her arse and Hermione is rocking back into her.
Suddenly there's cool air on her arse and Hermione pulls back, startled, "Did you just banish my underwear?" she demands as Fleur lowers the wand that she's produced from her shirt sleeve holster. There's a wicked sort of a twinkle in Fleur's eye and Hermione wiggles as the cool air touches the skin on her bottom.
"Perhaps…" Fleur says without the least bit of remorse, and rocks her hips forward. She leans forward and catches Hermione's necklace in her hand, using it to gently pull Hermione back to her and to kiss her firmly, tongue pressing forward and teeth worrying on Hermione's bottom lip. Hermione rises up onto her knees then, and the firmness of the phallus comes to rest, close, oh so close, to where Hermione wants it to be.
"Fleur-"Hermione drags herself away from the kiss and glances down between them, to where she's lost her pants and Fleur's are undone and the toy is bobbing obscenely between Fleur's legs. Hermione bites her lip, eyes flicking up to meet Fleur's and she is nearly overcome with want. She wants it so badly, to feel it between her legs and inside of her.
Bracing herself with one hand on the back of the dusty couch, Hermione tips her hips forward and uses her free hand to guide the phallus to her entrance. Her eyes never leave Fleur's as she slowly pushes her hips forward and lowers herself until it is fully inside of her, warming her, filling her. It feels so good, like this. Hermione knows that it would be like this with a man, because that is how sex with them works. Somehow, though, it's different with Fleur, different and far more powerful and oh Merlin…
Fleur's hips rise gently up and into Hermione and Hermione rocks forward to meet Fleur's thrust. She doesn't look away from Fleur, even when Fleur's hands come to rest greedily on her arse once more. Hermione rocks into Fleur and lets herself be taken, had, whatever this is truly called in the language of sex. She kisses Fleur with as much gusto as she can muster as her breath is stolen from her with each push of Fleur's hips up and into her.
The angle is so deliciously perfect and Hermione rolls her hips and doesn't think about how they're late and it really won't do to show up to the Weasley's with banished knickers and looking thoroughly shagged, but she finds that she doesn't not care as Fleur's pace increases and the lips that she's kissed swollen latch onto her pulse point and suck until Hermione can barely think at all.
She comes in a whirlwind of gasps and whispers in French of words that she barely remembers learning. Fleur's lips are smiling against her neck and her pace doesn't slow. Hermione rides out the orgasm as Fleur crests into her own and goes limp beneath her. The smell of sex and heavy breathing fills the room and as Hermione sits back and meets Fleur's eyes, she can see the easy smile there.
"I missed you," she mumbles into Fleur's lips as she kisses her once more. "I love you."
"Always," Fleur replies.
They are, needless to say, rather late to the Weasley's and Christmas Dinner.