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“I’m telling you, Hermione,” Ginny argued, sloshing her butterbeer slightly out of the glass when she placed it back onto the table. “Things aren’t going well with Bill and Fleur. I heard mum asking him about it, and he sounded really depressed. You’re staying with them. How can you not know anything about it?”
“Because there’s nothing to know,” Hermione told her confidently. “I would have noticed if things were tense, or there was arguing. It’s a small cottage.”
“And how much of the time do you spend in your room, reading with the door closed?” Ginny asked, one eyebrow raised accusingly.
Hermione scratched the back of her neck, taking a slow sip of her own drink before answering. “I don’t know,” she mumbled. “Not all of it. I certainly always come out for meals.”
“And you share meals with them?” Ginny asked.
“Oi! A Harpy!” A clearly intoxicated wizard came stumbling in the direction of their table. “Brilliant match, that was! You’re a prodigy!”
“Piss off,” Ginny said distractedly.
Hermione hated when they came to this quidditch pub, but Ginny had insisted.
“Of course I do,” Hermione said. “Whenever they’re both home. Which isn’t all the time, of course. Bill does travel a lot for work.”
“What does Fleur do while he’s away?” Ginny had a suspicious look on her face, and Hermione didn’t love it. She knew that Molly and Ginny still had their issues with Fleur, but the woman had been nothing but kind to her. Tending to her injuries after the incident at Malfoy Manor, and now letting her stay at Shell Cottage until she worked out what to do next.
“She goes to work during the weekdays and comes home in the evening. She rarely goes out on the weekends, and when she does, it seems it’s only to run errands,” Hermione explained. “She’s not up to anything!”
“And when they are both home, nothing is off?” Ginny asked skeptically.
Hermione shrugged. “Not that I’ve noticed.”
“I think that’s the key here,” Ginny sighed. “You’re just not noticing.”
“Well what would you like me to do?” Hermione asked with exasperation. “Study her?”
“Yes!” Ginny beamed. She stood from her stool. “That’s a brilliant idea!”
“I was being facetious!” Hermione dropped her face into her hands.
Hermione had flat-out refused to “study” Fleur - a ridiculous idea. She would never invade Fleur’s privacy like that. And if she did, where would she even start?
Probably by spending more time in the main house, she reasoned. It’s not like she would notice anything off with Fleur while alone in her bedroom. And really, spending more time in the main house was probably a good idea anyway. She wondered if it might be a bit rude to close herself up all the time.
Hermione huffed softly — mentally noting how considerate she was being — and made her way into the living room, book in hand. She passed the kitchen on the way, and saw that Fleur was sipping her tea at the dining room table and reading the paper.
This seemed to be Fleur’s normal Saturday routine, whether Bill was home or not. Today, he was not.
Fleur looked up and smiled as Hermione walked by.
While Hermione made herself comfortable in a large armchair, Fleur entered the room wordlessly, newspaper under one arm, carrying two cups of tea. She placed one on the table next to Hermione’s chair, and took the couch opposite. Hermione thanked her, and Fleur simply nodded before opening her paper again.
Hermione discreetly glanced up at her periodically while pretending to read.
No ring. Was that new? She’d never noticed before whether Fleur wore one.
I overheard mum telling dad she thinks there’s someone else, she remembered Ginny telling her.
That was extremely improbable, given that Fleur never seemed to leave the house for long enough to be having an affair. And she certainly never brought anyone home. Unless it was someone at work. Someone she spent a lot of time with, but had good reason to. Hermione bristled at the thought.
She noticed that Fleur was smiling softly at her paper, and Hermione wondered idly what she was reading.
Perhaps it was true that they were having marital trouble, but Fleur was faithful. Maybe it simply wasn’t working out. They married very young, after all, and right on the brink of war. Hermione had thought it was a very bad decision even at the time.
That was probably it. But she would need to do a little research before she could rule out whether Fleur was seeing someone on the side. And that would be for Fleur’s sake, really. So that she could tell Ginny positively that Fleur wasn’t up to anything.
“You are thinking very loudly, ‘ermione,” Fleur said softly into her newspaper as Hermione continuing to watch her.
Blue eyes looked up to meet her own, and Hermione flushed.
“It’s a… very interesting book,” Hermione muttered.
“Is it indeed?” Fleur asked, looking entirely unconvinced. “Per’aps I will have to borrow it, if you ever finish with that page.”
Hermione flipped the page with a huff, pretending not to notice the smirk Fleur was wearing.
Hermione opened her notebook to a fresh page and scrawled “FACTS” across the top. She began to list everything that she knew for sure about Fleur’s situation. She titled the opposite page “SUSPICIONS” and started collecting every accusation Ginny had made and any hunches she got from observing Fleur. She would search for clues for each suspicion in turn, and cross them off as she proved them false. If she proved them to be facts, she would move them over to the “facts” page to help further her research.
Fact: Bill and Fleur hardly spent any time together.
Suspicion: The time they did spend together was tense at best, and hostile at worst.
Well, that would be easy enough to sort out. She just needed to spend some time around them together and observe their interactions. The only difficulty would be catching the two of them together.
The opportunity didn’t arise until the following Saturday evening, when Bill finally returned to the cottage. Hermione had spent the afternoon reading on the sofa, and Fleur had spent it at the beach. Fleur offered to prepare dinner when she returned, and Hermione graciously accepted. Hermione was shit in the kitchen, but Fleur proved to be a skilled cook.
They had just sat down to eat when they heard the familiar crack of apparition and the front door opening and closing. Hermione watched as Fleur’s fork paused halfway to her mouth, her jaw clenching slightly. She placed it back onto her plate as Bill entered the room.
“Hello, all,” he said with a small smile.
Hermione, still chewing, gave a small wave.
“Bill, I’m sorry. I was not expecting you tonight,” Fleur dabbed her napkin at her mouth unnecessarily. “I have only prepared a meal for two. Would you like me to make you something?”
“No, of course not,” Bill brushed her off. “Enjoy your meal. I’ll find something.”
Hermione noticed that Fleur didn’t get up from her chair, nor did Bill approach her to greet in any physical way. It was peculiar for a young married couple.
They ate in silence until Bill joined them at the table with a sandwich.
“How was your trip?” Hermione asked.
Before answering, Bill glanced at Fleur uncertainly, but she did not return his gaze. “Uh, it was fine,” he smiled. “Thanks. Did you have a nice week?”
Hermione chatted with Bill amiably, Fleur only speaking up when specifically addressed. Hermione collected their dishes when they were finished. The two disappeared from the kitchen while Hermione washed up.
Normally after dinner Hermione would retire to her room to read, blind to Bill and Fleur’s own evening routine. She had stayed out after dinner this past week, but this was the first night she would be able to observe Bill as well.
When she finished the washing and returned to the sitting room, she found Fleur lounging in front of the fire with a glass of wine.
“Where’s Bill?” Hermione asked.
“I think he’s gone to bed,” Fleur said with a shrug. “He said he was tired.”
Hermione heard the sound of a wireless murmuring from somewhere upstairs. She glanced at the ceiling impulsively, before training her eyes back on Fleur. Bill had clearly not gone to bed. Not unless he went to bed upstairs, rather than in their bedroom.
Fleur watched wordlessly as Hermione’s cogs turned.
Suspicion: Bill and Fleur no longer slept in the same room.
This one shouldn’t be hard to confirm, but she felt a bit guilty snooping into Fleur’s bedroom while the woman was at work. Nevertheless, it needed to be done. for Fleur’s sake. and Ginny’s sake. and secretly for Hermione’s own sake, given that the answer to this question would tell her whether or not Fleur was available - err, separated from Bill.
Hermione was too smart to pretend she didn’t feel anything for Fleur, but she was also too respectful to ever act on it. Being cared for by Fleur after being tortured by Bellatrix made her feel impossibly safe from harm, even amidst an active war. The world was still trying to put itself back together a year later, and Hermione was in a state of imbalance. Being around Fleur was the only thing that made her feel stable again. Yes, she needed time to figure out her life post-Voldemort, but she could have done that anywhere. It didn’t need to be at Shell Cottage. She wanted it to be a Shell Cottage.
It had seemed like a great idea at first, to spend her days at Fleur’s side, but it quickly proved to be difficult. She had known her desire to be around Fleur was due to more than just friendship, but she found herself falling more dangerously in love with each passing day. Fleur was so kind, and so beautiful, and so incredibly smart. That was why Hermione had to hide away in her room. It was too hard to be around this woman she couldn’t have. It wasn’t right for her to feel this way about Bill’s wife. She cared for Bill too, after all.
But now things had changed, and Hermione had to know the full extent.
Hermione stared towards the end of the hall at Fleur’s bedroom door. She left it open every day, though Hermione never had a reason to peek inside. With Bill and Fleur both gone for the day, she took her opportunity. Swallowing down the nerves bubbling up in her chest, she walked into the room.
The bed, large enough for two, was neatly made. The room contained only a nightstand, a wardrobe, and a small writing desk. Hermione pulled open the door to the wardrobe and flinched when it creaked, despite being alone in the house. She recognized the items inside as ones that Fleur wore regularly. She ran her hand along the soft fabric, ostensibly searching for any items that might belong to Bill, but found none.
She closed the wardrobe and moved to the desk. Pulling open the drawer, she spotted a small ring. She picked up and inspected what was clearly a wedding ring. She made a mental note to add “Fleur is no longer wearing her wedding ring,” to her list of facts.
Hermione’s heart thundered in her chest. This was the first solid piece of evidence that Fleur had separated from Bill.
With renewed purpose, Hermione raced up the stairs. She entered the first room to find a bed that had clearly been slept in. A wireless was propped on the nightstand. A small dresser was to the side of the bed, a drawer cracked open with clothes peeking out. Hermione opened the drawer further and immediately recognized them as Bill’s.
Fact: Bill and Fleur no longer slept in the same room.
Hermione courageously volunteered to prepare dinner a few days later, when Fleur arrived home from work particularly exhausted.
“What time are we expecting Bill? Should I make enough for him?” She needed this answer practically, but was also curious.
“Bill is away,” Fleur said from the couch, long legs stretched out in front of her.
“Oh.” Hermione pulled her eyes away from the sight. “Is he traveling for work?”
Fleur considered her for a moment before answering. “I don’t know where he is,” she said quietly.
Hermione wanted to ask more questions. But Fleur seemed to be letting her in on a secret, and she didn’t want to push her luck. She would pace herself.
It was clear at this point that Bill and Fleur had separated. But why? Where did Bill go, and why did they still live together? Were they trying to make it work? Was Bill seeing someone else? Was Fleur?
Hermione tapped the side of her water glass while they ate.
Fleur watched her curiously for a few minutes. “I know you have questions, ‘ermione,” she smiled.
Hermione snapped her head up. “About what?” she said with feigned ignorance, and Fleur laughed. Sighing, Hermione gave in. “Oh, alright. Doesn’t it bother you not knowing where Bill is?”
Fleur shrugged. “Non, I don’t particularly care.”
“You don’t care? But what if he’s…” Hermione trailed off.
“With someone else?” Fleur asked plainly, and Hermione nodded. “He might be. I don’t care.”
Hermione’s face grew warm. He might be. The idea of Bill traipsing off with someone else while he had Fleur Delacour at home was infuriating. Did he not know how lucky he was?
“You don’t care?” Hermione asked.
“Non,” Fleur shook her head. “If his ‘eart has found new love, or simply a new bed, that is good for him. I’m sure he would reciprocate the sentiment.”
Hermione sat up straighter. Was Fleur hinting that she had moved on? How had she missed that?
Suspicion: Fleur was in love with someone else.
The air around Shell Cottage seemed considerably lighter over the next several days.
Acknowledging the elephant in the cottage - or the absence of the elephant, as it were - seemed to bring Hermione and Fleur closer than before. Hermione supposed this was because Fleur was no longer keeping the secret.
She acknowledged it was also because Hermione no longer felt guilty for feeling the way she did about Fleur. She allowed herself to fawn over the woman somewhat, indulging in her feelings rather than hiding from them. She prepared Fleur’s tea and made her dinner regularly. She joined Fleur on the beach and read with her late into the night. And Fleur, for her part, seemed perfectly content with this.
Each night of reading found them seated closer together than the last, until finally they were pressed up against each other every evening. Fleur was teaching her to cook at Hermione’s request (Fleur said she always enjoyed Hermione’s cooking, which was a very polite lie.) She would place her hand on Hermione’s lower back, her arm, her knee, at various points throughout the day as though this were the most natural occurrence in the world, and not something that gave Hermione goosebumps.
“I brought your sheets in off the line,” Fleur said to Hermione one afternoon. “I put them in your room.”
“Oh, thank you, Fleur! You didn’t need to do that,” Hermione looked up from the dining table with a smile, but Fleur was not smiling back.
She held Hermione’s notebook in her hands, and Hermione froze. Fleur opened it to a page she’d been saving with her finger, and began to read aloud.
“Facts…” Fleur cleared her throat.
“Fleur, please don’t,” Hermione stood.
“Bill and Fleur hardly spend any time together,” she continued. “The time they do spend together is tense.”
“Fleur,” Hermione pleaded. “Let me explain.”
“Fleur is no longer wearing her wedding ring. Bill is no longer sharing Fleur’s bed.”
“Please, Fleur. Let me just…” Hermione tried.
“The suspicions are quite good, too,” Fleur huffed a humorless laugh. “I particularly enjoy the last one you ‘ave neither eliminated nor moved to the ‘Facts’ column.
“I didn’t mean anything-“ Hermione started, but Fleur interrupted.
“Fleur is in love with someone else,” she finished, closing the notebook with a snap. “Did Molly put you up to this?”
Hermione crumpled in on herself. She had no excuse. “Ginny suspected things were off, so she asked-“
“She asked you to spy on me, and you agreed,” Fleur said angrily.
“I declined, but once the idea was in my head, I couldn’t shake it. I haven’t said anything to her or anyone else.” Hermione felt tears stinging her eyes. “I promise.”
“Well you ‘ave not finished your research yet, ‘ave you?” Fleur asked patronizingly. She tossed the notebook onto the table. “Per’aps I can assist you, hmm? Yes, Bill and I are separated. Yes, it is awkward to be around each other. We do not share a bed. I do believe he is seeing someone else, but I’ve already told you I do not care. Is this the information Ginny would like?”
“Fleur…” Hermione tried to approach Fleur, but she stepped away.
“We have been separated officially for three months. I do not know why Bill ‘asn’t told the other Weasleys, but it is no longer my business. I’ve been told he is searching for new lodgings, but is still staying here periodically in the meantime. Is any of this ‘elpful, or do you need some damning information so that Ginny may blame me for the failure of the marriage?”
“Please, Fleur…” Hermione tried again.
“What if I told you that I was not interested enough in his day-to-day? He didn’t feel I was attentive enough. What if he found me frigid in bed, hmm? He didn’t think I put out enough. Will that go on your list for Ginny?”
Hermione frantically wiped at the tears falling down her cheeks. She hadn’t meant for this. She hadn’t meant to hurt Fleur.
“And if I am in love with someone else,” Fleur paused, her eyes staring fiercely into Hermione’s. “If I love you, is that a fact or a weapon?”
Hermione’s stomach flipped over. “No, neither,” she spat out quickly, but Fleur was already leaving the room. She followed her. “Fleur, please! Please let me explain.”
“I can’t imagine there is anything left to explain, ‘ermione,” Fleur said tightly, turning to face her once more. “I thought… but clearly I was mistaken.”
“No, you weren’t!” Hermione pleaded desperately. “I never should have invaded your privacy like that. I screwed up, Fleur. I’m so, so sorry. I do promise I never had any intention of sharing anything that could reflect poorly on you. I wasn’t trying to work this out for Ginny; I was trying to work it out for myself. I wanted to know. I needed to know.”
Fleur took several steps toward Hermione, her expression still dangerous, anger flashing in watery blue eyes. “Why?” she demanded.
Hermione sucked in a shaky breath. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. “Because I’m in love with you, Fleur,” she said with all the confidence she could muster. “I have been, I think, for a long time.”
Fleur’s eyes searched hers for a few uncertain moments.
Before Hermione could respond, Fleur closed the remaining distance between them, crashing their lips together. Hermione gasped into Fleur’s mouth as she placed a hand behind Hermione’s neck. Her other arm snaked around Hermione waist, pulling her impossibly closer.
Hermione grasped desperately at the fabric of Fleur’s shirt. She pulled away at the taste of salt, but didn’t let go.
“I’m sorry,” she pressed her face into Fleur’s neck. “I’m so, so sorry.”
Fleur held her firmly around the middle. “It’s okay, ‘ermione,” she hushed soothingly.
Hermione pulled back to look into eyes that only moments before displayed so much anger, only now they were shining with something else.
“I love you, ‘ermione,” Fleur said softly before giving her a crooked smile. “It’s a fact. You can write it in your bloody book.”