Chapter Text
Hermione tilted her head in confusion as she took in the hunched form in front of her. Large wings were curled against their back, a mixture of blues and silvers. Feathers dotted arms, legs, neck, and hair. Sharp angular lines looked like they had been carved from stone with a thin firm press of line where lips pressed in what she assumed was irritation. Long, sharp talons broke free from dark grayish blue hands that showed tendons strained under the clenching and unclenching digits. Silvery colored hair danced in the dying moonlight.
“Are you alright?” Hermione asked.
She’d only seen a transformed Veela from a distance at the Quidditch World Cup, but seeing one up close should have terrified her. She was positive those talons could easily slice through her skin, but there wasn’t anger in the posture more a resigned defeat that clung to once proud shoulders.
The Veela turned, gray-blue eyes taking her in, looking equally surprised to see her.
“ I’m not feeling well,” the French words rolling over her with a much harsher tone than the usual lilting quality Fleur’s voice possessed. While it didn’t sound as clunky as when she spoke in English, it still changed the tone of her words.
“Are you sick or is this more…emotional?” Hermione questioned, her French wasn’t nearly good enough to carry a conversation.
Those eyes lit up in surprise and her lips pulled slightly into a smile before it faded.
“ Veela don’t get sick. ”
Hermione hummed, taking in those words as she moved across the room and hoisted herself up onto the desk. She took a moment to rearrange her dress, not that it really mattered in the moment. Vaguely she could feel the Veela watching her, but it didn’t bother her.
“ Why are you here? ”
“Well, I got into a fight with my…friend,” she shrugged. “I think he was jealous that I went with Viktor to the ball but…”
Her words trailed off in unsteady movements. She really couldn’t encapsulate all her twining emotions.
“ Do you want to date this…boy?”
Snorting, her head shook in response, eyes bright with humor.
“You said boy with such disdain. Do you know he asked me to the Yule Ball as a last resort? He said I was lying about having a date and was all like ‘you’re a girl,’ like no shit. He insults me, acts like he’s the one doing me a favor, and then gets mad because I wasn’t lying.”
“ Then boy was the correct term to use.”
It was hard to suppress the grin that found its way across her face.
“ He is jealous. I don’t know this boy you’re speaking of, but I think he’s realizing you’re more interesting than just his friend.”
“Doubtful. As soon as my hair is back to its normal mess, he’ll forget I’m more important than getting his homework done and saving his life.”
“ Doesn’t sound like much of a friendship to me. Although, I have little to say about friendships since I have very few outside my clan. Humans are too easily swayed by the unknown. Their fear of me or their inherent need to show I can be controlled,” her wings fluttered as she shrugged, “ well, it doesn’t do more than make me fall away.”
“That sounds lonely. I don’t have many friends because I tend to argue with people. It’s not as bad when I was younger. My parents sent me to acting classes to help me learn how to deal with people’s emotions. It was an eye-opening experience.”
“ They must love you to help bridge that gap.”
“They love me dearly and I love them. Sometimes, well, it’s not sometimes it’s far too often. If I stopped helping them, would they even want to be my friend?”
“ You only feel valued for the intelligence you bring and not the emotional support?”
There was a brief pause before she nodded.
“ I know the feeling well. Although most people don’t think I’m intelligent.”
“Which is stupid since you are. Regardless, it’s better to be underestimated than for everyone to know how capable you are.”
The Veela’s eyes sparkled with mirth, that soft smile finding its way back.
“Can you change like that whenever you want?”
The Veela’s wings fluttered. A sense of worry blanketed the air, an unease. She understood she was feeling a bit of the Veela. Her thrall? It was an enlightening understanding.
“ No, I can, but it’s hard. Usually, I stay hidden, a spectator. Fleur is strong and I only come out when the need is too much for her. After that…pathetic monster tried to take advantage of her, she let me handle it.”
“ Bastard,” was her soft response.
“ Sadly, a common enough occurrence, to be sure. Does your hair bother you that much?”
Hermione blinked, a little surprised by the sudden change in topic.
“It’s wild, unmanageable and takes too long to figure out how to manage. I usually just pull it out of my face, but the tangles are a nightmare.”
The Veela hummed, seeming to take her words into consideration.
“ Come,” the Veela said in a softer tone, closer to Fleur’s normal tone than she’d heard all night.
Seeing no reason to argue, she slipped off the desk to approach where the Veela sat on her own desk. A gentle twirl of her finger had her turning around, leaning her ass against the edge of the desk. Surprisingly soft fingers ran through her hair as she felt a wave of power wash over her. She could see the straightness that had clung to her hair fade. The gentle tug pulling the clips out of her hair until it all tumbled around her shoulders.
Her body relaxed as lithe fingers dragged through her hair, and nails gently scraped against her scalp, easing tension she didn’t realize she had. A melodic humming filled the air as she let those fingers twist and tug at her hair. There were a few times when she felt the Veela pause before undoing her hair to twine it all again.
“There,” came the soft response in English. “I used Veela magic to tame your curls, permanently, it won’t be as difficult.”
A smile spread across her lips. Her fingers reaching up to touch the ends of the braid.
“Thank you,” Hermione said, and hoped Fleur could hear how grateful she was.
Before she stepped away, a pair of surprisingly strong arms wrapped around her chest, pulling her into a hug. The soft warmth emanating from the blonde made her feel lighter. The unspoken thanks lingering in the air.
Once released, she made her way towards the door, pausing with her hand out.
“If you need anything, you can always come find me,” Hermione said before she left the room.
**********************************************************
Hermione sat on her bed, fingers twisting and twining her hair in a braid. When she finished, she used the mirrors she had set up to check before grumbling and undoing it. She shook out her hair before trying again. This was how Ginny found her.
“What are you doing?” Ginny dropped down beside her.
“Learning,” the short response came.
“I’m curious as to why. I mean, you usually just leave it down, but it’s looked shinier and healthier lately.”
“Magic,” Hermione remarked with a satisfied smile as she tied off the end of her braid and put the mirrors away. “Sometimes my hair gets too tangled being down all day and the braids help with the frizz.”
Ginny nodded, taking the answer at face value because why wouldn’t she?
“Are you doing alright?”
Blinking, Hermione frowned at her friend, unsure why she asked that question.
“I’m fine.”
“Hermione, it’s the weekend and the boys are downstairs in the common room and you’re up here. Usually, you’d be sitting down there catching up and whatever you feel like reading. Not only are you not reading, but you’re also learning to braid your hair. You’ve barely tolerated Ron since the Yule Ball.”
Shrugging, she wasn’t entirely sure how to answer Ginny’s pointed question.
“Ever since I met Ron, it’s been this weird dance with him,” Hermione admitted, feeling a bit off as she spoke. Her fingers idly reaching up to scratch just above her chest, a new feeling that had crept up at random times. A strange mark had appeared there after the Yule Ball. It didn’t look like anything in particular and didn’t bother her often, so she wasn’t concerned.
“I was honestly surprised you put up with him,” Ginny’s tone was frank if not a bit confused.
“Did they tell you how we became friends?”
“Something about a mountain troll.”
“I heard Ron gripping at Harry when I helped correct him with the levitation spell. Looking back now, I could have been nicer, but it took time to realize I shouldn’t give a solution unless asked. He said the usual complaints I’ve always gotten. Too much of a know it all. I think I’m better than everyone. First year was…amazing. Having magic and realizing that being Muggleborn put me at an inherent disadvantage because I didn’t have the faith in magic that those with wizarding parents had. I know I’m a lot for most people and it was a fresh start.”
Her shoulders slumped when she thought about those early days.
“Harry came for me. Harry was concerned. Ron just…followed along. He never apologized to me for his comments. Just sort of…used my intelligence as a character flaw he could exploit or say it was all I am. He’s had his moments defending me, but it’s always felt like it was them against me. With the Firebolt and grades. It just…there wasn’t room for me sometimes. Seeing Ron get jealous of Harry and being forced into the middle, then Ron constantly butting heads with me and sticking Harry in the middle. It’s…he expects us to forgive him no matter what. I just am done forgiving him. He keeps showing me who he is and I have to accept that.”
Neither spoke after Hermione finished talking.
“You’re right,” Ginny agreed. “He acts like you should be grateful he pays attention to you. That he’s friends with you. I don’t blame you for having had enough.”
“I’ll deal with him because I care about Harry and he’s such a wonderful friend. It doesn’t mean I have to follow them like a puppy in need of attention. I can and have made friends outside of them. Just, hearing him insulting me about having a date to the dance and then harping on me for having fun was too much. I don’t care why he did it and he’s never apologized to me. I’m just done, done hoping he will treat me with respect only to have him string me along.”
Ginny wrapped Hermione in a hug, which Hermione leaned into.
“Don’t beat yourself up about it. He brought this on himself. You’ll always be my best friend, whether or not you speak to my brother.”
“I’m just worried about Harry, Ron will confront me at some point.”
“That’s a worry for another day.”
*****************************
Hermione was a bit surprised to feel a tugging sensation in her chest. It was a steady pulse of discontent, and a bit of anger twisted in. She shouldn’t have been surprised considering how upset she’d seen Fleur on that platform during the second task.
Her feet guided her closer to the unexplained feeling. A little surprised that she could feel it all the way to the Gryffindor Common Room. Still, she had promised to be there, and she wasn’t one to go back on her word.
Entering the classroom, which was surprisingly dim for the early morning hours, but that didn’t bother her at all. She picked her way through the room towards the spot where the Veela was. Her countenance was a lot different from the first time.
The Veela was perched on the spot she’d claimed, wings drawn tight around her trembling form. Talons scratched in a few second intervals, the slight scraping sounds a testament to her fraying emotions. Her emotions seemed to curl around her, a visible swirl of light.
Hermione lifted herself onto the closest desk, her eyes taking in the few feathers that had dropped. Twisting her head around, she realized it was the Veela’s magic putting a darker hue to the room.
“You know, I was trying to help the house-elves seek freedom,” she began unprompted. “I made them so angry that one of them literally shoved me into a chair and lectured me for four hours. They explained in painful detail the extent of power the wizarding world holds on them. Breaking down every law in the books. Showed me a book, thicker than Hogwarts A History of every house-elf whose died in servitude to magicals. Of all the countries, house-elves are only enslaved in Great Britain. Which I found odd until I learned the actual truth. There is a hidden place in our country where house-elves are created. Magicals found this spot and tied their existence to magicals to keep house-elves enslaved. The spell is designed to discourage house-elves from using their magic to break the connection. If they did, it would kill all house-elves. It’s horrendous. They don’t need me to fight for their freedom from households, they need me to fight to break the magical hold on their people.”
“ Seems an odd thing to tell me,” the Veela grumbled, but there was more question in her tone than annoyance.
“Well, I figured, since no one else seems to ask how to undo the spell. It takes regular magic, like humans have, to create it, but to undo it, they need light magic.”
“ Are you suggesting that Veela’s could break the magical hold on house-elves?”
“Yes.”
“ Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you just saw your little sister trapped at the bottom of a lake surrounded by mermaids who have sworn an oath to kill you. I can’t imagine how awful that feeling was. Harry, for all his faults, has a big heart and regardless of the constant belief that Dumbledore could do no wrong, he still waited. I explained to him later why you were as terrified as you were. He was appalled that Dumbledore had allowed it. I think he hoped Harry would do something stupidly heroic to win Veela to the side of our cause.”
“ What cause?”
“The Dark Lord. Harry has been dreaming of him and while everyone keeps pushing his worries off, I’m not. Never be at the end with him. If you do, prepare yourself for not making it back alive.”
“ That’s surprisingly dark for you to say.”
“ Maybe I don’t want anyone to die. Harry attracts death.”
“ Maybe he is meant to be its master.”
“ I don’t understand.”
Hermione frowned. The Veela pulled their wings back enough for Hermione to see those grayish-blue eyes again.
“A story about three brothers. The elder wand, resurrection stone, invisibility cloak. Whoever has all three is the master of death.”
“ Aren’t all invisibility cloaks the same?”
The Veela shook her head.
“ Invisibility cloaks have only five years of use before they turn into an ordinary cloak.”
“Harry has one, it was his father’s. It’s been working for at least twenty years.”
“ He may be the master of death. Darkness clings to him like my thrall burns my skin. It seeps into everyone it touches. Not much, but it also pulls people in. I’ve seen it do the same to you.”
“Honestly at this point, why the hell not? Sure, he’s the master of death, seems right.”
The Veela chuckled.
“Anyway, why not send a message, free house-elves. I’m sure you can relate to the mistreatment.”
“ You’re so odd, but I enjoy it.”
Rolling her eyes, she gave a slight bemused grin.
“I’ve been called worse, and you have a pretty smile.”
The Veela turned their head, smile fading, which only made Hermione chuckle.
“Don’t tell me you’re shy.”
“ Most humans don’t find the Veela as appealing as our counterparts.”
“I mean, Fleur is quite beautiful, but you can fly.”
“ So can she.”
“ Oh? With a broom or with those wings?”
Hermione could see the wings twitching in amusement despite the Veela still looking away. The darkness in the room faded the longer they spoke.
“ Both.”
“Well, I wonder if it’s less terrifying than a broom. I do hate heights, so it doesn’t matter much.”
“ I’ll take you flying one day, you’ll see how amazing it is.”
“Sounds like a date.”
“ No one dates a Veela, they date the human.”
Hermione didn’t comment and gave the Veela a smile.
“Aren’t you the same?”
The Veela froze and Hermione could see the gray grow in her eyes before switching to Fleur’s regular blue before the two colors merged.
“ We…are…”
Kicking her feet, she waited as the colors of Fleur’s eyes changed. The transformation was slipping away until Fleur was left. Dark blue eyes looked at her, a mix of emotions.
“How do you do that?”
The question wasn’t a surprise, and Hermione had no proper answer to the question.
“I’m not sure, but you seem like you could use a friend.”
“But only in here?”
There was a bitterness to her words, a flash of pain that lingered.
“I’m fine talking to you outside this room.”
“You haven’t yet.”
“Neither have you.”
They looked at each other, held in a stalemate. Fleur was the one to finally break eye contact, huffing. Hermione smirked, shaking her head at Fleur’s antics.
“Don’t worry, you're only intimidating to the weak minded.”
With that, Hermione hopped off the desk, giving Fleur a smile before she headed off for the day.