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A sweet breeze was blowing over the Burrow on this stiflingly hot summer afternoon.
The house was, for once, almost empty. Arthur had been called for an emergency at work because a wild herd of rubber ducks had been spotted in Hyde Park. Molly and Bill were running a few errands in Diagon Alley for tonight’s dinner and Ginny, Harry, Ron and George were playing Quidditch in the orchard. Hermione, who didn’t want to play with them, had been in Ginny’s room since she arrived an hour ago and was either reading or resting.
This improbable and fortunate chain of circumstances left Fleur alone and free to do whatever she wanted to. A real feat!
She would have loved to chat with Hermione though, but she had to make do with her second best option, so she was laying down on a lounge chair in the garden with a good novel in her hands. She could still hear the shouts from the Quidditch players and see them fly over the trees from time to time, but there was no one to bother her with silly comments or stupid jokes. Even after all those years, the very peculiar Weasley humour was still foreign to her sometimes.
Bill and Fleur came for the week-end to celebrate Harry’s birthday. After the war, it had slowly become a tradition for the family to gather at the Burrow at the end of July for this event. Harry was embarrassed to be the centre of the attention so he had explicitly asked that no one was invited outside the Weasleys, Hermione being the only exception to that rule. She had indeed broken up with Ron last year after a coming out that Fleur would remember for the rest of her life, but the two had stayed on good terms and she was still considered family.
In any case, Molly and Arthur were too happy to have their children around for a few days, and the kids wouldn’t miss the opportunity to relax and be taken care of. It was a win-win situation.
Fleur was sipping on her pumpkin juice when movement on her right caught her attention. A brown long-haired tabby cat twice as big as the average size had elegantly jumped off the paddock. It was now walking towards the little pond at the end of the garden with a confident swagger that made it seem like it owned the place.
“Wow, you’re huge!” Fleur exclaimed, truly impressed by the sheer size of the animal. She has always been a cat lover, so she recognized the big animal as a Maine Coon, a species known for its dog-like behaviour. This was just her chance, it had been so long since she had enjoyed the company of a feline.
The cat briefly looked at her before resuming its walk towards the pond. Fleur could have sworn that the cat had rolled its eyes but she must have imagined it. A cat couldn’t roll its eyes!
Fleur closed her book and sat up straight.
« Miiiinou, minou, minou, minou ! Viens ici ! [Kiiiitty, kitty, kitty, kitty! Come here!] » Fleur said in that typical stupid way people talk to cats. This time, the animal stopped right in its tracks, eyes wide open. Fleur smiled smugly, she had finally caught its attention. “Well I’m stupid, you don’t speak French.” She laughed at her nonsensical joke. “Come here! I just want to pet you!”
She got to her knees on the hard wooden floor of the terrace and held her hand out as a sign of peace. The cat squinted and lowered his head in defiance. After a few seconds though, it seemed to have made its decision. It trotted towards Fleur and sniffed her fingers.
“See, I don’t want you any harm. Who would want to harm a cutie like you?”
After a few seconds, the cat rubbed its face against Fleur’s hand. She took it as consent and started to scratch behind its ear. The animal closed its eyes, seemingly enjoying the strokes.
A few minutes later, Fleur was lying back on the lounge chair with the cat comfortably stretched out on her, purring loudly. The animal’s size was impressive. Its back legs were almost touching her ankles while its head was lying on her belly.
Fleur would most likely have hair all over her dress but she didn’t care. The cat’s bushy fur was so soft that it was a pleasure to run her fingers through it. She was simply ecstatic.
“You know, I used to have a cat before,” Fleur started to say out loud.
When she was a kid, she had pestered her parents until they gave in and adopted a cat. A neighbour had a few kittens to give and offered one of them to the Delacours.
It was a very cute black short-haired cat and Fleur’s mother named it Noir. Unfortunately, the animal disappeared without an explanation after only three weeks and little Fleur was unconsolable.
The year after, they gave it another try and adopted a russet tabby named Abeille but it suffered the same fate. Fleur couldn’t help but feel guilty. Why had both cats disappeared after such a short time? Was it her fault? Maybe she hadn’t been nice enough to them and they had preferred to leave, not that Fleur had done them any harm.
Despite all this, when Fleur’s nanny’s cat got pregnant a few months later, she’d immediately wanted to adopt one.
“It’s the last time,” her mother Apolline had warned. “You’re too sad when they disappear, this cannot go on indefinitely.”
This time, Fleur was tasked to pick a name and chose Moustache, which simply means ‘whisker’ in French.
“What a stupid name!” Fleur said fondly to the Maine Coon, who had punctuated her story with small meowls as if encouraging her to go on. “But, hey, that’s what you get when you ask an 8-year old their opinion.”
Fleur had seen her nanny’s cat getting bigger and bigger until she gave birth to two brown tabby kittens. They were both females, one was short-haired and one long-haired. Fleur immediately took a liking to the short-haired — the other would never show herself anyway.
Once it was weaned, Fleur brought Moustache back to their house and it hasn’t left it for 14 years. Fleur would never know how or why the first two cats had disappeared, but the family has always suspected one of their neighbours of poisoning them.
Moustache could not be described as affectionate, but Fleur clearly held a special place for her. She’d always curl up on her lap and would spend every single night in her room.
The day Fleur’s mother had contacted her through the floo to tell her that Moustache had an epileptic seizure, her heart was shattered. The vet has informed them that, given Moustache’s old age, she would not survive for much longer so Fleur had come to France immediately to be there during her final days.
It had already been two years but since then, she hadn’t had the heart to adopt another feline. She would never miss the chance to pet a cat when she could though, just like today with the Maine Coon.
Fleur smiled dreamily. “She was a warrior, my Moustache! Once, she disappeared for two weeks — I was worried sick — and she came back with an injured leg and a suppurating eye. I’m sure she kicked plenty of asses though.”
The Maine Coon contorted itself and caught Fleur's hand between its paws. For a second, she was afraid it would scratch or bite her but no, its claws weren’t even out. Quite curiously, the cat started to lick her fingers with its rough tongue.
“Why are you doing that? Is that because I stopped petting you?” Fleur said, noticing it was wagging its tail in annoyance.
She carefully started to scratch the cat’s chin, which it seemed to appreciate given that a few seconds later, it was purring again and its four legs were up in the air.
“I’m sure Molly gives you a lot of treats each time you come here! Well, sorry to disappoint, but she’s not here. That’s actually the reason why I’m outside and not hiding in my room,” Fleur snorted. “I’m enjoying the calm before she comes back and starts pestering me with grand-children.”
While Arthur was respectful and kind enough to consider it wasn’t any of his business, Molly seemed to be on a mission. She didn’t miss an opportunity to remind Fleur that she was already expecting Bill at her age and that they shouldn’t wait for too long if they wanted a big family.
“Molly would be very disappointed to know that there will be no grand-children!” Fleur laughed grudgingly. “Well, she’ll have loads of them, but not from us.” The cat opened an eye and watched Fleur curiously, still purring. “You know how to make babies, do you? Maybe you’ve already had babies?”
She suddenly realised that she didn’t know if the cat was a male or a female, not that it really mattered.
“Well, I’ll tell you a secret. In order to have babies, you have to have sex. And Bill and I are never going to because”— Fleur looked around her to check that she was still alone and whispered—“we’re both gay! Yes, gay as fuck.”
Fleur was grinning like a child. It felt good to say it, even to a cat. Sure, her family was aware of their particular situation, but they’ve been lying to the Weasleys for so long that it was a relief to say the truth for once.
“I trust you buddy, this will stay between us!” Fleur looked down at the cat fondly. It had stopped purring but seemed otherwise completely indifferent to the big news.
As she was now retelling, Bill and Fleur had gotten married in the middle of the war as an attempt to rally the support of the European Veela clans. They were good friends, times were hard and marrying a pure-blood wizard was also a good move for Fleur given her blood status. After all, she was not human and Voldemort had never been creature-friendly.
It all had been in vain though, the Europeans clans had flatly refused to take part in a war that was not on their soil. Fleur had always thought they were fools, though. If Voldemort hadn’t been defeated a year later, he would surely have tried to extend its influence to the continent.
But after the Dark Lord’s demise, Bill and her stayed married. At first they had agreed to wait for a few months — Fleur wanted to be sure all the anti-Muggle and anti-creature laws were annulled — but when things had settled down, Bill had admitted he was scared to come out to his family. Out of friendship and loyalty, Fleur had accepted to keep the charade up with the only condition that they would divorce as soon as one of them was in a serious relationship. Unfortunately, dating girls when you were supposed to be married and when your family had the attention of the media was nearly impossible. Fleur hadn’t had much more than a few one-night stands, and only when she was in France.
“I don’t know why he’s so scared to come out to his parents. They’re nice people even if Molly can be a bit scary sometimes, I’m sure they’d understand.”
As much as Molly had made her life difficult when she first started dating Bill, Fleur couldn’t argue that she was a loving mother. She would never turn down on him.
“You know who was not afraid to come out? Hermione. It was exactly a year ago actually.”
Ron and Hermione — who were supposedly still together at the time — had come to Harry’s birthday just like usual. After dinner, Hermione had stood up and called for attention. She had an announcement to make.
From the way Ron was proudly looking at her, Fleur thought they had just gotten engaged and she didn’t like it one bit.
Hermione coughed uncomfortably and after one last encouraging glance at Ron, she simply said, “So, er, I’m gay.”
The table fell silent and every head turned to look at Molly. Fleur would forever remember the look on the Weasley matriarch's face, frozen somewhere between shock and surprise. It clearly wasn’t what she was expecting Hermione to say.
George, bless him, had been the one to break the tension with a joke. “Ron, what did you do to make her never want to be with a man again?”
“Nothing! Tell them, Hermione. I did nothing!” he shouted, but her now ex-girlfriend just rolled her eyes and everybody, except Molly and Arthur, started to laugh and mock him.
“Honestly George, I don't want to defend my stupid brother, but the two of them, it wasn’t working,” Ginny said and Harry nodded next to her. “It’s a relief that they’re finally calling it quits.”
Molly and Arthur still hadn’t said a word so when Hermione spoke again, her words were full of emotion.
“I know this is some big and unexpected news. But I wanted to tell you myself.” Hermione’s voice faltered. “You’re all like family to me and— and—”
Molly stood up and hugged a now sobbing Hermione tightly, assuring her that her being gay wouldn’t change anything. It has been a heart-warming thing to see and true to their word, Molly and Arthur have invited Hermione to every big family event since then.
Fleur had to admit, Ron had been a great friend to Hermione during that time. When her homosexuality had inevitably made it to the newspaper a few months later, the journalists had harassed Ron for a witty comment or a juicy story but he had always rebuked them.
Fleur looked down at the cat. “Ever since Hermione has come out, I’ve been dying to ask her out on a date. Do you think I should ask her out?” The cat meowed shortly, as if answering her question. “That would be weird, though. I’m married, we’d have to hide — if she wants to be with me that is. She doesn’t deserve that kind of relationship.”
Fleur looked faraway but before she could get too lost in her thoughts, the cat stood up and rubbed its face against her chest.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m not forgetting about you,” Fleur said. She kissed the animal’s cheek fondly and resumed scratching its head. “She’s a badass, you know? Hermione, I mean. She’s a badass witch.”
Fleur has always been impressed by Hermione’s determination to fight for what was right. In Hogwarts, it was S.P.E.W. and later it was her complete involvement in the war. By Merlin’s beard, the girl was barely seventeen when she gave up her studies and sent her parents to the other side of the world to go on a suicide mission with Harry and Ron!
But Fleur fell in love with Hermione when she was tending her wounds at Shell Cottage. It didn’t happen overnight, of course, but her feelings for the younger witch grew stronger with each moment they shared, whether it was when Fleur nursed her, when they talked about anything and everything or when they cooked together in silence.
Right after the battle of Hogwarts, her heart had shattered at the sight of Hermione and Ron together as a couple. She had tried to bury her feelings deep down her heart without much success and when Hermione came out, Fleur spent sleepless nights wondering if she should pursue the witch but she never had the courage to do so.
“She can seem a bit cold but it’s just a mask, really. She’s actually very sweet. She’s my sweet badass witch… Well, I wish she was…” Fleur looked down at the cat and laughed. “Why am I telling you all this? It’s not like you can understand!”
The Maine Coon was still sitting on her lap, watching her intently. It had the most curious eye colour, Fleur realised. Hazel was pretty rare among cats.
But before she could dwell on that thought too much, it yawned widely and curled up into a ball. Fleur laid back down on her chair, rested her hands on the cat’s soft fur and closed her eyes, a small smile on her lips.
“Are you two comfortable?” Ginny asked, waking up Fleur with a start.
Harry, Ron, George and Ginny were just back from the orchard after their Quidditch game, their brooms still in their hands.
“Oh, Morgana, I can’t believe I fell asleep!” Fleur said after she had recovered. The Maine Coon was still on her lap, stretching and yawning, and Fleur was swooning at how cute it was. “Have you seen this cat before, by the way? It’s very affectionate.”
Ron snorted but it was George who answered. “Well, it comes and goes. But be careful, last time it was covered with fleas!”
“Yeah, she’s never grooming herself. What do you want? She’s just a stray cat,” Ginny added while Harry rolled his eyes.
Fleur worriedly examined the cat’s fur but it was spotless. The animal was very taken care of and its long hair was perfectly brushed.
“No fleas! I would have gotten rid of them otherwise, I know a few spells,” Fleur said. She gave the cat a few long strokes on its back, a gesture that it seemed to appreciate.
Ginny gave her broom to Harry and approached. “You got it all wrong, she prefers to be pet on the belly. I’ll show you.”
She started rubbing the cat’s abdomen vigorously but the animal rebelled. It grabbed Ginny’s hand between its paws and frantically scratched it with its back legs while biting her middle finger.
“Ouch! You little piece of— I’m never letting you stay in my room, ever again!” Ginny threatened, her index pointed towards the cat as a warning in a way that reminded Fleur of Molly.
“You should have left her alone, Ginny,” Harry said. “You know she doesn’t like that.” His girlfriend shot him a murderous glance.
“Don’t worry, you can stay in my room,” Fleur said fondly, scratching the cat’s head. The animal started purring loudly but was still shooting vicious looks at Ginny and wagging its tail in annoyance.
Ron stifled a laugh. “Well, I’m pretty sure she’d love that! She might push Bill out of the bed, though.”
Fleur smiled. She could very well picture the cat behaving that way.
“Yes, she’s made it abundantly clear that men were not to her taste. Right, Ron?” George said to his brother.
“Hey, it’s not my fault!”
Fleur watched them curiously. Sometimes she felt a little bit left out on their family jokes.
“Come on guys,” Harry intervened, putting an end to the conversation. “It’s nobody’s fault. Now leave her alone.”
The four of them put their brooms in the little stone outhouse that served as a shed for their Quidditch equipment. As they passed Fleur to go inside of the house, Ginny glared at the cat and mouthed a silent ‘I hate you’. Ron and George were laughing, looking at Fleur and the cat in a way that made her wonder who they were mocking.
“Sometimes I don't know why I’m still putting up with this… Well, I know exactly why I’m putting up with this,” Fleur sighed. “How would I see Hermione otherwise?”
Fleur heard the loud crack of an apparition, shortly followed by a second one. She probably had slept longer than she realised.
“Oh well, little cutie, as much as I would love to stay and chat with you, I have to go. Molly and Bill are back and we’ve got to prepare Harry’s birthday dinner.”
She made to stand up, but the huge animal on her lap wouldn’t bulge. After a few more strokes, the cat finally moved with a disapproving meow to let Fleur get up. It seemed grumpy that his comfortable cushion had gone.
“Will I see you again tomorrow?” Fleur asked. Of course, there was no reaction from the animal. What had she expected? She snorted and gave the cat a goodbye kiss on the head.
In the kitchen, Molly was already busy putting away the groceries. With more than 10 people for dinner tonight, there was no time to waste and the two witches were soon in full action. Fleur was washing and chopping lettuce for a feta cheese salad while Molly was attending to the two big chickens. Curiously, the rest of the family was nowhere in sight.
Hermione had not left her room all afternoon and Fleur started to wonder if she should get her. Surely, it could not be healthy to spend such a beautiful day inside. Fleur had also hoped that they could have chatted for a bit before everyone was back home and she couldn’t help but feel a tinge of disappointment.
Once the chickens were smeared in oil and covered with herbs, Molly put them in the oven and then started to help Fleur by chopping an impressive quantity of tomatoes and cucumbers.
“No, no, use olive oil instead,” Molly said as Fleur started to work on the vinaigrette. “The grocer told me it was very good for women who try to conceive!”
“Molly, Bill and I are not trying to have kids,” Fleur said tiredly while discreetly looking at the magical timer she had started when she entered the kitchen earlier. 8 minutes and 23 seconds before bringing up the subject of grand-kids. It was nowhere near her record of 3 seconds but it was pretty decent!
“Not yet! But you’ve got to be prepared. I’d love to have grand-children roaming around the house, you know?”
Fleur sighed and obtemperated. Her long years of experience taught her that there was no point in arguing against Molly Weasley.
As she grabbed said oil, Fleur saw Hermione smirking in the doorway, shortly followed by Bill. She was wearing simple blue shorts and a white t-shirt, and her hair was tied in a low ponytail. She looked gorgeous, as usual, and Fleur couldn’t take her eyes off of her.
“Hey, I was starting to think you were avoiding me!” she said to the witch, not paying an ounce of attention to her husband who had come to greet her with a kiss on the cheek.
“Hi again Fleur. I had a good afternoon, Fleur. Thanks for asking, Fleur,” Bill said sarcastically.
“Yeah, I fell asleep. I’m sorry,” Hermione answered, also ignoring Bill. “Oh, olive oil! I heard it was very good for women trying to get pregnant!”
“You see!” Molly exclaimed, completely missing Hermione’s wink. If she didn’t look so cute, Fleur might have been mad at her. Maybe.
“Hermione, do you know what ‘mettre de l’huile sur le feu’ means in French?”
“Put oil on the fire?” she said not-so-innocently. “No idea!”
“It means ‘add fuel to the fire’, and that’s exactly what you’re doing right now so stop it and come help us!” Fleur exclaimed with all the seriousness she could muster.
Bill was ordered to put the tables out while Hermione and Fleur were spreading the black olive tapenade that Fleur had brought from France on small toasts. Molly was busy baking Harry’s birthday cake, a task that she wouldn’t entrust to anyone but herself, so it gave the perfect opportunity for the two young witches to catch up. Hermione seemed to be in a good mood today, judging by the way she was teasing her, and Fleur couldn’t stop smiling and laughing.
Just before dinner, Fleur went up to her room to get a cardigan. What she didn’t expect was for Bill to follow after her and drop a bombshell.
“Fleur, I think I’m ready!” he said as he closed their bedroom door behind him. “I’m gonna come out to my family!”
She gasped loudly. “Really?”
“Yes, I’m tired of lying to them, especially to mom. She pestered me with grand-children the whole afternoon…”
“I’m so happy for you,” Fleur said as she hugged Bill tightly. He wasn’t just a fake husband, he was also one of her best friends. She would love nothing more than him being true to himself after so many years of hiding.
But all of a sudden, she realised all the implications on her life and her head started to spin at the possibilities. They would have to divorce, which meant she would be free to live wherever she wanted to. Would she move back to France? Her parents had inherited a nice little house on Ré Island, maybe she could make a permanent residence out of it. She’d see Gabrielle more often and the weather was much better. She’d need to commute everyday to Gringotts though.
Would she see Hermione again? The two witches were friends, right? Maybe she’d finally ask her out. Would she enjoy the house on Ré Island?
Fleur shook her head before she could get too lost in her fantasies of romantic dinners and walks on the beach at twilight with the girl of her dreams.
“I’m sorry but I have to ask. Where does this come from?” She said as she pulled back from their embrace.
“I guess I’ve wanted to do so for a while now.” He scratched the back of his head. “And I realised that it wasn’t just me that I was holding back, but you as well. I’ve been watching you and Hermione preparing dinner, and I think you two should be together.”
“Bill, she probably does not think of me this way—”
“My point exactly! If you were single, she’d already have asked you out by now,” Bill countered. “I’ve seen her interact with you tonight, Fleur. I’m pretty sure she likes you.”
“Since when are you so observant?” she asked, watching her fake husband curiously.
“You’re not giving me enough credit sometimes!” he joked, but his laugh soon died out, replaced by something more wistful. “I’ll miss living with you, you know.”
Fleur hugged him again. “Me too.”
Dinner was a loud affair, as usual at the Weasleys, but it was overall pleasant.
Fleur hadn’t been lucky enough to have a seat near Hermione — the younger girl was at the other side of the table talking animatedly to Ginny — but she had a nice enough conversation with Bill, Percy and his girlfriend Audrey who had arrived for the occasion.
All throughout the evening, Fleur caught Hermione watching and smiling at her and it made her heart flutter. She even had to clear her head and drop the seductive grin off of her face a few times. Her stupid husband had planted a very dangerous seed in her brain and now she couldn’t wait to unleash her seductive force on Hermione. The witch wouldn’t know what got her.
Ugh, damn Bill!
After the main course, Fleur took the opportunity to stretch a bit and went to the little pond at the back of the garden. When Arthur had gotten back from his emergency at work, he had to bring the rubber ducks that were scaring Muggles in Hyde Park with him otherwise he wouldn’t have made it on time for dinner. They were now swimming quietly, following each other in a single file. Fleur was pretty sure the big cat would love playing with them.
She’d really enjoyed her interaction with the Maine Coon that afternoon and hoped it would come back tomorrow for another snuggling session. Fleur tried to think of a name for it — ‘the big cat’ would only do for a while — but came up empty.
“Furry, maybe? No, too obvious… Biggie? Ugh, I’m definitely no good with cat names!”
“Am I interrupting something?” a voice asked behind her, making her jump in fright.
Fleur turned around to find Hermione beside her, her hands in her pockets and a sly smile on her face. “No, I was… talking to myself? Yeah, this is embarrassing…”
“Don’t be,” Hermione laughed, bumping her shoulder against Fleur’s. “Don’t tell anyone, but I might think out loud sometimes, too.”
Fleur noticed, not for the first time that day, that Hermione looked impossibly cute with her laid-back attitude. She has put on a green and white plaid shirt that made her look so much like a raging lesbian that Fleur wondered how she had not noticed before the witch came out.
“Would you like to grab a drink after work next week?”
“Oh, yeah, sure!” Fleur answered. She couldn’t say she wasn’t surprised but she wouldn’t miss an opportunity to see her favourite witch. “What’s the occasion?”
“No occasion, really,” Hermione shrugged off. “Would you mind going to Muggle London though? I don’t want to make the front page again.”
Hermione laughed but it was sour. Ever since she came out last year, the journalists have been following her like the plague and Fleur could say it was wearing her down.
“Sure, no problem. Who else would be there?”
Hermione scratched the back of her head, blushing. “Er, just the two of us.”
“Oh.”
Wait, what?
“I mean, we never get to talk properly with all those Weasleys around!” Hermione joked but Fleur could say it was a way to hide her discomfort. “But if you think it is a bad idea, I understand, I just—”
“No, I would love to,” Fleur said with her best smile. “I was surprised, that’s all. What about Tuesday?”
“That would be perfect,” she answered with a sly smile.
What a day! Bill was going to come out to his family, Hermione just invited her for a drink. It couldn’t be real… Fleur wondered when the other shoe would drop.
“Oi, you two!” Ginny yelled. “Cake! Hurry up!”
“Coming,” Fleur and Hermione answered in unison and made their way back to the table.
Fleur noticed immediately that George was watching them with a mischievous smile. From experience, she knew nothing good came from that smile and she didn’t like it.
“Hey, Bill,” he said without even looking at him. “If I were you, I wouldn’t let Hermione get too close to your wife.”
“What are you talking about, George?”
“Well, they were pretty close this afternoon. So close that Fleur even invited Hermione into her bed. Pretty sure she’ll steal your wife with her seductive purr,” he said, emphasising the last word.
Now. The other shoe was dropping now.
She watched Hermione warily. Her expression was somewhere between concern and embarrassment, and her eyes—
Her eyes! How could Fleur have missed it? They were the exact same shade of brown as the Maine Coon.
“You were the cat.” It wasn’t even a question.
“I’m an animagi, Fleur. I thought you knew that,” she said uneasily. The blonde pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation. “I told everyone after I registered with the ministry.”
Fleur turned to look reproachfully at Bill. “That… might have slipped my mind,” her husband told her sheepishly. “What? It didn’t seem important at the time.”
“I can’t believe it! Do you know how embarrassing this is?”
The Weasleys started to mock Fleur profusely — apparently the view of Hermione sleeping between Fleur’s legs had been hilarious — but she honestly didn’t care. She’d withstand the teasing for the rest of her life without complaining if she could take back everything she had said to Hermione. Fleur was mortified. She always had a soft spot for cats, but why had she spilled all of her and Bill’s secrets to the Main Coon?
Fleur understood now why Hermione had invited her for a drink next week. She wanted to let her down in a more private environment, and while that was considerate of her, it hurt.
“It’s okay, Fleur,” Hermione said, touching her arm delicately.
“No it’s not, it’s—”
“♫ Happy birthday to you! ♪” Molly had just arrived with Harry’s cake and Fleur couldn’t have been more happy with the distraction.
“♫ Happy birthday to you! ♪”
Fleur sat down at her chair, far from Hermione, and put her head in her hands.
“♫ Happy birthday to you, Harry! ♫♩ Happy birthday to you! ♪”
This was possibly the longest gift opening Fleur had never witnessed. Merlin, she wanted to get away from here as soon as possible so when Bill finally gave her a plate with the cake, she feigned nausea.
“I don’t feel very well,” she said to him. Her husband knew she was lying but just nodded. “I’m going upstairs.”
“Oh, is it something you ate?” Molly said as Fleur stood up. “You know, when I was expecting Charlie, I—”
“I’m not pregnant!” Fleur yelled, stunning everyone into silence. She turned around and went inside the house, relieved to have finally escaped. It didn’t last long, though.
“Fleur!” Hermione called after her.
She didn’t answer, knowing full well that Hermione was too stubborn to leave her alone. They’d have to talk anyway. Why not now? There was no point in waiting so when she entered her bedroom she was ready to face what was to come.
“You!” Fleur exclaimed after Hermione had closed the door, pointing a reproachful finger at her. “You could have told me you were… you!”
Hermione shushed Fleur and pointed to the open window. The room overlooked the garden and anyone could easily eavesdrop on their conversation.
“I’m sorry, at first it was funny. And Merlin, your strokes! Ginny’s always rubbing me the wrong way.”
“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” Fleur said indignantly, careful not to talk too loudly this time.
“Yes!”
Fleur raised her hands in exasperation and started to pace. This was the moment she was dreading. Hermione was going to explain that, yes, Fleur was a very beautiful woman but that, no, she was not interested but that the two of them could stay friends.
“I talked to Bill earlier.”
Fleur stopped right in her tracks and looked at Hermione incredulously. “What! When?”
“Just before we came down to the kitchen.” Hermione took a step forward. “I asked him if I could still steal his wife.”
“What?”
“He thinks it’s a pretty good idea.” Another step forward. “Which I’m really thankful for, because I’ve been wanting to do it for a while now.”
“Really?” Fleur was smiling now. “But I thought— oh, were you asking me out earlier?”
“Yes! You can be really dense, you know?” Hermione laughed. “So I’m gonna say it more clearly this time. I’d love to be your sweet badass witch.”
Fleur closed the remaining distance between the two of them, grabbed Hermione by the waist and kissed her fervently. The other witch answered with a moan and cupped her face with both of her hands.
Maybe Fleur wouldn’t move back to France after all. She could totally picture a life in the UK with Hermione by her side if it was the other witch’s wish. They would buy a little house in Muggle London where they’d have kids someday. She was pretty sure Bill would accept to be their donor and—
“What do you mean, you’re gay?” they heard Molly yell outside. “But you’re married to a woman!”
Hermione and Fleur looked at each other and erupted in laughter.
“Do you think we should go back outside?” Hermione said. Fleur shook her head and captured her lips again.
“WHAT? She’s gay, too?” the Weasley matriarch exclaimed.
“Ron, what have you done this time?” George shouted. “First, Hermione, now Fleur!”
“It’s not my fault! Why does it always have to be my fault?”
Fleur groaned. She didn’t want this moment to end but she knew she should be supporting Bill in this. She gave her witch one last peck on the lips before leaving the room to face the shitstorm that was sure to be waiting for them downstairs.