Chapter Text
It certainly didn’t make any sense; the place was painted a bland white, everything smelled like it was coated in cleaning products and fake rubber. Thin plastic like fabric that made a horrible shrill sound whenever a bodily limb shifted position and Fleur was going to scream…
“Zere ‘as to be ano’zer means to ‘eal you.” She was frustrated and on her last nerve; if another person walked past the room and lingered for another gaze inside... Hermione laid on the hospital bed next to her and just turned another page in her book, ever calm and uncaring to Fleur’s whines.
“The muggle means of surgery has been around for thousands of years and is perfectly safe in this day and age. Besides, I trust it more than any potion your mother brews.” She snapped a glare towards the blonde. “And don’t you dare tell her that either.”
“I won’t tell a soul.”
“I mean it Fleur…”
“As do I.” The Veela smiled in her usual gloating way; a half smirk on one side and a gleam in her eyes. That same look that tortured poor hormonal boys during the year of the Triwizard Tournament... “Mo’zer doesn’t need to know zis conversation took place… zough… she’ll be very upset when she hears that you were in ze ‘ospital.”
“I have appendicitis. The hospital is the logical location, Fleur.” In a huff, the brunette woman rolled over and pulled the horribly itchy sheet up far as it would go. Fleur giggled while shifting slightly, one leg over the other. The scheduled surgery wasn’t for another hour or so; she had nowhere to be urgently, the lone magazine she brought was uninteresting; so the woman sat back and picked up the discarded book.
History. Muggle history. Well it was something.
Hours in a medical facility were always misconstrued. Fleur hadn’t spent time in a muggle hospital before but she disliked it immensely.
Boredom was a thing.
When Hermione was wheeled back post-surgery, Fleur hadn’t left the chair the whole time. Veela were known to be stubborn. She didn’t know much about muggle medicine or ‘operations’ but the look on her girlfriend’s knocked out face was priceless. The brunette had shared the general rundown of how the surgery would go; she’d be put to sleep, a tiny hole opened in her abdomen and the problematic organ removed. Simple enough. Fleur’s discomfort wasn’t appeased in the explanation however; still she remained silent.
Fleur’s head lifted at the entrance of a man in scrubs. He was tall, rather broad but had a gentle smile when he saw her; with a silent nod the blonde simply watched the nurse go about his usual checks. Sharp eyes caught the name ‘Falton’ on the hanging identification around his neck and when asked, the nurse happily explained the recovery process to Fleur. Until the time came for Hermione to awaken and her boredom suppressed, the blonde woman did nothing but turn another page in the dreary book.
Oh how Fleur never expected the aftermath.
“Did the doctor send you..? Merlin, you’re beautiful…” Hermione’s voice was heavily drowsy and her eyes were dazed at best. She awoke with little awareness to her surroundings or the purpose of why they were in the hospital but that didn’t stop her. “...whoa…”
Fleur couldn’t contain the light giggling as her girlfriend continued the stumped daze like speech on just how breath-taking the blonde was; Hermione’s opinion mattered apparently.
“Non ma amor. I am not a model.” She managed to reply with a repressed laugh, though it was an ego boost nonetheless. She had gently patted the brunette’s hand, which led the patient to realise she in fact could feel it.
“You’re French… Wow, you’re french. Who are you?” Hermione’s brows furrowed as she raised her hand, of which the Veela happily took hold of.
“Oui, I am. I’m your girlfriend; Fleur.”
“My girlfriend?” The brunette squeaked out in utter shock. “You’re my girlfriend? Holy shit.” She swore. Hermione actually cursed out loud and Fleur witnessed it. She was giggling so much, her face was close to splitting and her sides hurt. A drugged Hermione may be the funniest thing she had ever seen before. “Merlin...for how long?”
“For years ‘Ermione. Relax, you just got out of surgery; you’ll feel a bit weird.”
“Whoa your voice… girlfriend… wait, have we kissed yet?”
“Oui; many, many times.” A smug grin adorned her face, Fleur placed a gentle kiss on the back of Hermione’s hand in comfort.
“Whoa...I hit the jackpot.” Dazed as she tried to piece together the new information, Hermione’s eyes went around the room before she returned to the blonde at her side. She was so pretty. “Are we going to get married?”
“Maybe, someday. ‘Opefully soon.” The more she heard the accent, the more it seemed to stump Hermione’s drug logged brain. She took a few seconds to answer.
“You’re so beautiful...perfect hair...perfect teeth. I like your teeth.” That one nearly caused Fleur to snort aloud but somehow she kept hold of her composure and let the brunette continue however she pleased. When Hermione’s attention went a little lower and tried to lift her head, the Veela grew a little concerned. “Turn around…”
“Non, stay zere ‘Ermione. You’ll get dizzy if you move too much.”
“We’re dating?” And back to the previous topic after a failed attempt to check out her girlfriend.
Hermione’s bewilderment stuck around for a while. She simmered down as the nurse returned for another quick check over but Fleur was only fixated on keeping Hermione’s ramblings contained. Some wild accusations to another plea for the blonde to show her backside; the Veela soon came to understand the one upside to these ‘muggle’ ways.
She couldn’t wait to tell Gabrielle all about it.