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Fleur Delacour stood by the window of her room in the grand Delacour family mansion, gazing at the landscape beyond the marble walls. In the distance lay a green valley, strewn with autumn leaves, but even this could not distract her from the words she had heard during dinner. Her mother’s voice had sounded calm yet firm as she spoke of the impending marriage to one of the pure-blood sons of an influential family. A marriage of convenience. The word echoed in her thoughts like a sentence.
“This is for your future, ma chérie,” her mother had said, her gentle tone concealing a steely resolve. “We must uphold ancient traditions.”
Traditions. That word spread through her veins like poison. They did not think of her, of her desires. To them, she was merely a piece on a chessboard, one that could be sacrificed for a more advantageous move. A marriage of convenience. Just a cold, rational decision where her dreams, her freedom, and her identity meant nothing. Everything was subordinated to a single goal — to strengthen alliances and preserve the family name.
Fleur clenched her fists so tightly that her nails dug into her palms, leaving painful marks. She stepped away from the window, as if trying to escape from the sight of a world that had become foreign to her. Bitterness rose in her throat, filling her from within. She had always taken pride in her heritage, in her family, but now that pride felt like an empty deception, a mask for enslavement. The thought that her life and freedom were traded for political gain filled her with disgust, a feeling so intense that it overwhelmed her entirely.
***
Hermione Granger sat at her desk in the Ministry of Magic when the moment she had feared most occurred. On the surface, it seemed like an ordinary day—quiet footsteps of colleagues echoing in the corridors, parchment rustling, quills scratching, and the magical flutter of documents. But in that instant, the door to her office swung open abruptly, and a senior official entered with a grave expression and a scroll in his hands. He paused at the threshold, reading a brief but devastating announcement.
“A new law has been passed,” his words echoed in the air like the rumble of thunder before a storm.
Hermione felt a chill run down her spine. Just yesterday, this had been nothing more than a threat, a rumor that might never become reality. But now it was a fact. The Blood Purity Act, a new directive from the Ministry, mandated that Muggle-borns marry pure-blood wizards for the “betterment of magical blood.” And all of this came after they had won the war, supposedly overcoming prejudice and injustice.
She clutched the scroll containing the text of the law, her eyes scanning the lines that laid out its horrifying essence. Her face went pale, and her hands trembled with outrage and powerless anger. Every word of this document felt like a mockery of what they had fought for. She remembered how they had dismantled Voldemort’s regime during the war, a regime built on the same ideas, and now—just a few years later—the Ministry itself was enacting measures that closely resembled the old regime.
Each time Hermione reread the text, waves of outrage and pain surged over her more forcefully. How could this happen? How could those who had supported their struggle now turn against them and accept this absurd law? Thousands of thoughts swirled in her head, each filled with anxiety, anger, and despair.
She absentmindedly reached for a piece of parchment where she had already begun to draft a plan for escape. Hermione knew she had to act quickly, but the closer the deadline for the law’s enforcement approached, the stronger her sense of hopelessness became. She tried every option, but each new plan seemed less and less feasible. Anxiety grew, filling her to the brim. Run? Hide? Organize a resistance? But who would go with her? Her gaze darted around the room, but there were no answers.
The idea that she and others were being forced to sacrifice their right to choose for the sake of political games burned within her. After everything they had endured, after all the sacrifices, this injustice was unbearable.
***
When they met at the gala dedicated to the new magical reforms, tension hung in the air like an electric charge. Fleur spotted Hermione across the room and, hesitating for only a moment, resolutely made her way toward her as if she had made a firm decision.
“Hermione, have you heard about this new law?” she began quietly, once they found a more secluded corner away from prying ears. Worry shone in her eyes, but somewhere deep down, there was a glimmer of hope.
Hermione nodded, taking a sip of champagne and frowning slightly. “Yes, I’ve heard. And to be honest, it seems… absurd. I never thought the Ministry would go this far.”
Fleur nodded; her eyes slightly warmer than usual as she looked at her friend. “I think it’s unfair too. We’ve known each other for so long, and now, because of this law, our future is in someone else’s hands. You don’t want to submit to it either, do you?”
Hermione scoffed, a small smile creeping onto her lips. “Of course not. I like to keep my life under control, not leave it to the mercy of bureaucrats.” She looked at Fleur, her expression becoming thoughtful. “Are you suggesting something?”
Fleur leaned in a bit closer, lowering her voice as her hand lightly touched Hermione's, as if seeking support. “Yes. We could, let’s say, enter into a formal union. It would give us a chance to escape the law's clutches. And the rest… we’ll see.”
Hermione studied her friend closely, gradually realizing the seriousness of her proposal. She understood that this could not only be a way to avoid imposed obligations but also a chance to strengthen their friendship. And yet, the idea seemed crazy.
“Are you serious about this?” Hermione tilted her head slightly, squinting. “We would become an official couple for the Ministry?”
Fleur smiled, a playful spark flickering in her eyes that always lifted Hermione’s spirits. “Well, why not? Wouldn’t that be a fabulous response to their silly law?” She winked. “You mean something to me, Hermione, so why not help each other out?”
Hermione felt warmth rising in her chest. She smiled, her gaze softening. “Well… maybe this really is our chance to take our fate into our own hands.”
***
Fleur led Hermione through the corridors of the family mansion, her face calm, but emotions churned inside her. She knew this dinner would be a turning point. Her parents expected her "fiancé," the heir of a pure-blood lineage, to appear at the table tonight. Instead, they would see her "bride"—the Muggle-born Hermione Granger.
“Are you sure this will work?” Hermione asked quietly, feeling her heart race in her chest.
Fleur glanced at her, a half-smile flickering at the corners of her lips.
“We’ve already started down this path, ma chère. There’s no turning back now. Hold your head high,” her voice was resolute, though a spark of tension flickered in her eyes.
They stopped in front of the massive dining room door, and Fleur took a deep breath before pushing it open. Her parents were already seated at the table: a tall, imposing man with a penetrating gaze who immediately noted their entrance, and her mother, an elegant woman with a cold dignity. Across from them sat the one her parents had chosen for her—the heir of a pure-blood family, whose polished manners and refined appearance instantly filled Fleur with disgust.
As they entered, her father stood up, a slight frown on his face as his gaze shifted from Fleur to Hermione, finally resting on her with suspicion.
“Fleur,” he said, greeting her with restrained formality. “We expected to see your fiancé... Who is this?”
Fleur raised her chin, her voice sounding clear and confident, even as she felt the tension mounting with every moment.
“Allow me to introduce you to my bride, Hermione Granger.”
The silence that followed her words was almost palpable. Fleur’s parents’ eyes widened in shock, and her prospective fiancé’s face twisted with anger and confusion. Fleur’s mother was the first to break the silence, her voice taut as a string:
“Fleur… you’re joking, right? We talked about a marriage with… a suitable candidate. You can’t be serious.”
Fleur looked at her mother with unwavering confidence.
“I am completely serious. Hermione and I love each other, and I intend to marry her. This marriage will be real, not fake.”
Hermione, standing beside her, lifted her chin slightly, trying not to betray her excitement. She knew this was just a game, but with every word Fleur spoke, her heart raced even faster. The way Fleur said it, as if it were the truth, left a feeling that their bond was something more.
Fleur's father frowned even deeper, his voice growing harsher.
“You cannot reject our family, Fleur. We expected you to marry that young man and uphold our traditions.”
Fleur smiled coldly.
“I know what you expect, Father. But I refuse to marry for convenience. I have made my choice.”
The fiancé, who had been sitting in silence all this time, finally spoke, his voice full of discontent:
“Is this some kind of game? Do you really think your parents will allow you to break centuries of tradition for... a Muggle-born?”
Fleur narrowed her eyes, her voice turning icy:
“How dare you speak of my bride with such disdain? She is the best choice I could have made. And this marriage will be on my terms, not yours.”
Hermione felt Fleur’s hand grip hers, which was unexpectedly comforting. It was a hidden sign of support that gave her strength to remain calm under the heavy gazes of Fleur's family.
Fleur's mother leaned back in her chair, her voice now cold and calculating:
“Are you sure this is your final choice, Fleur?”
Fleur nodded:
“I am absolutely certain.”
Fleur's parents exchanged glances filled with unspoken tension. This battle was not yet over, and both sides understood it perfectly. But this time, Fleur seemed to be holding the situation under control.
***
The soft patter of rain created a cozy backdrop in Hermione's apartment. They sat on the comfortable couch with cups of tea in hand, enjoying the tranquility. Hermione wore cozy sweatpants and a soft sweater, while Fleur was dressed in a simple home dress. The atmosphere felt relaxed, but there was something elusive in the air.
“Have you ever regretted coming to England?” Hermione suddenly asked, looking at Fleur over the rim of her cup.
Fleur, who had been lost in her thoughts, was slightly surprised by the question but couldn't help but smile.
“Sometimes. It rains all the time in England, and I prefer the sun and warmth,” she replied, shrugging lightly.” But there’s also a lot of good. Here, I’ve met interesting people... and you,” she added with a soft accent that made Hermione smile.
“I also enjoy spending time with you,” Hermione quietly replied, her voice becoming a bit more thoughtful. “I never even thought we could become friends; you always seemed so... distant.”
Fleur raised an eyebrow slightly and grinned mischievously.
“It’s because I’m such a beauty, isn’t it? Were you afraid of me?”
Hermione laughed, feeling the tension gradually dissipate.
“Maybe a little. You really looked like someone from another universe.”
“And now?”
Hermione looked at her a bit longer than usual.
“Now... you seem much closer.”
Fleur briefly averted her gaze, as if something had touched her, but quickly regained her usual calm confidence.
“I’m glad we can be like this,” she said, and there was sincerity in her words. “Without all that public charade. Sometimes it’s just nice to be ourselves.”
“That’s what I’ve always valued in true friendship,” Hermione added. “Peace. Without masks and pretense.”
Fleur smiled, feeling her heart lighten. In their fake marriage, there was a lot of calculation and formalities, but now, away from prying eyes, she began to feel the warmth of this friendship. She genuinely enjoyed spending time with Hermione.
“Have you ever thought about spending more time on something other than work?” Fleur unexpectedly asked, carefully interrupting their light conversation with a more serious question.
Hermione squinted, pondering.
“You mean... something like a hobby?” she asked.
“Not necessarily. Just something that would bring you joy. You’re always so busy, ma chère. Maybe something that allows you to relax?”
Hermione, slightly embarrassed, shrugged.
“Maybe you’re right. I’m always working... and I never thought I could relax like I am today,” she said with a smile.
Fleur looked at her more softly, feeling a growing sense of something more between them.
“You know, I feel very at ease with you too. It’s strange... but nice.”
They exchanged glances, and that moment felt special. The beginning of their fake union had gradually transformed into something more real. Simple evenings together, like this one, had become important to both of them.
***
Hermione sat on the couch in the living room, facing her parents. They had come to talk about work and, of course, couldn't resist the usual questions about her personal life.
“You never tell us about your new... well, your girlfriend?” Hermione's mother began cautiously, sipping tea from her cup. “Fleur, right? Are you really serious?”
Hermione nervously rubbed her temples and sighed. She wasn't ready for this conversation, especially since she didn't fully understand how to define her "seriousness" with Fleur.
“Mom, Dad, we... We’re just trying to figure out what’s important to us,” she replied uncertainly.
Before her parents could ask more questions, a familiar whoosh came from the fireplace, and in the next second, Fleur appeared in the room. She stepped through the fireplace with complete confidence, her long blonde hair shimmering in the firelight. With a wide smile on her face and a ring in her hand, she quickly found Hermione's gaze and, not noticing her parents, exclaimed loudly:
“Darling, I’m here! And I bought you a ring for our wedding!”
Instantly, the room froze. Fleur, realizing she was not just in front of Hermione but also her parents, froze in place. A flicker of embarrassment crossed her eyes, but she skillfully maintained her composure. Hermione felt her cheeks flush with surprise.
“Oh, Merlin...” Hermione whispered under her breath.
“Um... Fleur, these are my parents,” she said, trying not to reveal her excitement, but her voice trembled slightly. “Mom, Dad, this is... my fiancée.”
Hermione's mother looked at the blonde with surprise, noting that, despite the situation, Fleur remained completely calm and at ease. Hermione’s father coughed, clearly taken aback by this unexpected meeting.
“Oh... very nice to meet you,” the mother slowly said, glancing at the ring in Fleur's hands.
“Ah, Monsieur and Madame Granger,” quickly regaining her composure, Fleur stepped forward and graciously bowed. “I apologize for my sudden appearance. I just... wanted to surprise Hermione,” her voice was soft and polite, but her eyes sparkled with confidence.
“How... how sweet,” Hermione's father added, somewhat bewildered. “We didn't expect things to be so serious between you.”
Hermione looked at Fleur, and their gazes met. In that moment, there was something more than just upholding their plan. Fleur looked at her as if she truly cared about the meaning of the ring.
Smiling, Fleur approached Hermione and sat down next to her, taking her hand. She gently slipped the ring onto Hermione's finger, her movements slow and deliberate.
“Of course, it’s serious,” Fleur said, not taking her eyes off Hermione. “I couldn't find a better person for myself.”
Despite the absurdity of the moment, Hermione felt something warm spread within her. She didn't know how real it was, but those words and that gesture did something to her heart.
***
Joyful shouts of children, laughter, and the sound of clinking glasses celebrating the newborn filled the Weasley home. The Weasley family had gathered almost in full force to celebrate the arrival of Ginny and Harry's new baby. Hermione felt a bit nervous as she approached the door with Fleur beside her, holding her hand. They had already grown accustomed to their "plan," but they knew their appearance at the family gathering would raise many questions.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Hermione asked, looking at Fleur.
Fleur smiled reservedly; her gaze full of confidence.
“They’ll find out sooner or later. It's better this way than through rumors,” she replied with a light French accent that always made Hermione smile slightly.
As they entered the house, attention immediately turned to them. The first to see them was Molly Weasley. Her eyes widened in surprise, but she quickly composed herself and rushed to hug them both.
“Hermione, dear! And... Fleur?” her voice trembled slightly, but she tried to maintain warmth. “This is... a surprise!”
“Mom, who’s there?” Ginny called from across the room, approaching them with a smile until she noticed Fleur. Her smile faltered for a moment, then returned. “Fleur! I didn’t expect to see you here,” she said more quietly, exchanging a brief glance with Hermione.
“Hi, Ginny. We thought it was a good time to visit. Congratulations on the baby,” Fleur replied warmly, scanning the room and noticing Bill standing off to the side, watching them.
Hermione felt the silence linger in the air for a few seconds as everyone exchanged glances, clearly waiting for some kind of explanation. She took a deep breath and decided to take control of the situation.
“We came together,” she finally said, trying not to appear too tense. “Surprise, I guess?”
Harry, who was standing next to Ginny, leaned closer to his wife and whispered:
“I thought they hadn’t been together for a long time...”
Ginny quickly nodded, her eyes darting to Bill, who stepped closer, his expression calm and friendly.
“Fleur and I are on good terms,” he said, smiling at Hermione and Fleur. “It’s all good. I’m glad you both came. Congratulations to you both.”
Fleur nodded gratefully at Bill, their brief but warm exchange of glances showing that there was no tension between them, only understanding and respect for the past.
“Thank you, Bill. I'm glad you feel that way,” she replied softly, then turned to Hermione, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.
Ginny finally broke the tension with a light smile.
“Alright, I guess we need more champagne if this is such a special evening. So, how long have you two been together?” her voice had a teasing hint, but it was clear she wanted to keep the conversation going.
Hermione breathed out, feeling the situation gradually ease.
“Not long, but... long enough to know that this is something important,” she replied, glancing at Fleur.
Everyone around seemed to begin accepting this, though a few surprised looks still darted their way. Molly, clearly still a bit confused, stepped closer and hugged Fleur.
“Well, since you’re part of the family again, Fleur, welcome! We’ll have to discuss all the details sometime. I do love wedding stories.”
Fleur smiled and nodded.
“Of course, Mrs. Weasley. I'm sure we’ll have plenty of time for that.”
Their brief conversation became a springboard for further discussions, but the evening continued in a warm and relaxed atmosphere. Although the surprise had not completely worn off, everyone was slowly beginning to accept the news. Fleur and Hermione knew this was just the first step on their long journey, but they had managed it, and their union was starting to be taken seriously.
***
The hall of the Ministry of Magic was adorned with sparkling garlands and golden ribbons. The soft light of candles reflected off crystal chandeliers, filling the hall with a warm glow. This ball, dedicated to yet another anniversary of the end of the war, brought together all the important wizards of Britain and their friends. Among the guests were those who had played key roles in the battles, and Fleur and Hermione were also in the spotlight.
As soon as they entered the hall, all eyes were fixed on them. Hermione wore an elegant dark blue dress that flattered her slim figure, and a ring sparkled on her ring finger. It was simple yet refined, as if it spoke volumes without needing any extra embellishments. Fleur, beside her, radiated aristocratic calm in a dress made of delicate silk, her blonde hair cascading down her back.
Whispers and surprised glances followed them like waves. Among the guests, phrases could be heard: "Fleur Delacour and Hermione Granger?" "Are they really married?" Some older ladies clearly disapproved, but most were simply astonished by such an unusual union.
Fleur leaned slightly towards Hermione and whispered, her voice a bit teasing:
“Everyone is talking about us, ma chère. Are you ready?”
Hermione struggled to contain a smile, feeling a mix of excitement and something else within her that she wasn't quite ready to name. The ring on her finger felt heavier than it actually was.
“This is all part of the plan, right?” she asked, trying to assure herself that this was still a game.
Fleur looked at her, her eyes sparkling.
“Of course,” she replied, but there was something in her tone that made Hermione doubt. The feelings that were beginning to accumulate in her heart became harder to ignore.
They slowly made their way through the hall, receiving greetings and congratulations, but when Fleur's parents approached them, the tension rose once more. Fleur's father stood with a straight back, and her mother looked at them with a cold squint.
“How lovely to see you both,” Apolline Delacour said with icy politeness, her gaze dropping to the ring on Hermione's hand. “It seems we now have a new topic for discussion, don’t we?”
Without the slightest hesitation, Fleur took Hermione's hand, her fingers gently brushing the ring.
“It was our private ceremony,” she replied with unflappable grace. “We didn't want to make a spectacle of it for society.”
Hermione felt her heart racing as Fleur spoke those words with such confidence, as if it were truly the truth. Fleur's words increasingly sounded sincere, and that made Hermione uneasy. She could no longer perceive this as just a game.
“So, this is really serious,” Fleur's father remarked, his eyes narrowing as if he were trying to read their thoughts.
Hermione pressed her lips together and nodded.
“We... yes,” she said, feeling the warmth of Fleur's hand on hers. “We made this decision together.”
Fleur squeezed her hand a little tighter, and in that gesture, Hermione sensed something more—support, care, and perhaps something much deeper. Everything felt real, too real.
The music started playing again, and Fleur turned to her:
“Ma chère, shall we dance?”
Hermione nodded, unable to refuse, and they made their way to the dance floor. The waltz enchanted their movements, and their steps became smoother and more confident, as if they were yielding to an invisible connection that stretched between them.
“Fleur,” Hermione began, her voice soft, “you do understand that this is no longer just a game, right?”
Fleur looked at her with a half-smile, and there was something in her eyes that Hermione had never noticed before.
“What do you think?” her voice was gentle, but it carried a dangerous proximity to the truth they had both long tried to hide.
Hermione didn’t respond, but her heart was beating so hard that it seemed Fleur could hear it. And although this had started as a plan, a way to escape family pressure and imposed laws, she could no longer deny that their connection was becoming something much more important and real.
***
Hermione walked out of the Ministry, her face glowing with laughter as she chatted with a tall young wizard in a formal robe. They were animatedly discussing a recent project, and it was clear that their conversation brought pleasure to both of them.
Hiding behind a column opposite, Fleur watched them. Her heart began to race, and anxious thoughts flitted through her mind. What if, for Hermione, this was just a game? Maybe she was just using me to distract her family from her real life?
Unconsciously, she clenched her fists, feeling something akin to jealousy rising in her chest. Fleur couldn't cope with this feeling. She was used to attention, but now, seeing her "fiancée" so sweetly interacting with another man, she was overwhelmed by a strange sense of... disappointment and fear.
Later that evening, when they met at Hermione's apartment, Fleur couldn't hold back: “I saw you today with him,” her voice was restrained but cool. “You looked so... happy.”
Hermione froze at the accusation. She frowned, not understanding what Fleur was talking about: “What are you talking about? If you're referring to Michael, he's just my colleague; we were discussing a project.”
“Just a colleague?” Fleur crossed her arms over her chest, feeling the tension rising. “You looked too close to be just colleagues. Maybe you... aren't that into our "arrangement"?”
Hermione stared at her in disbelief: “Fleur, are you serious? We were just talking. Why does it bother you?”
In response, Fleur faltered, realizing that the words had slipped from her lips before she could stop them. Her expression softened, but she still couldn't comprehend where this jealousy was coming from. Quite strange for a fake relationship... But why did it affect her so much?
“I just...” Fleur sighed and sat on the edge of the table, trying to sort through her emotions. “I don't know what's happening to me. But when I saw you two together, I felt... uncomfortable. I didn't expect that.”
Hermione smiled gently, stepping closer to Fleur: “We agreed that this would all be for show. But, Fleur, I have never felt as at ease with anyone as I do with you. And if something's wrong—you can always tell me directly.”
Fleur looked up at her, and in that moment, she realized that her feelings had changed. This was no longer a game. Her gaze softened, and she whispered: “I think for me, this is already more than just a game...”
Hermione felt a pang in her chest when Fleur confessed that this had become something more for her. For all those weeks, they had been playing roles, putting on display a relationship that, at its core, was merely a shield against an absurd law. But every time they returned home after public events, Hermione caught herself thinking that she didn’t want to let go of Fleur's hand. Now, seeing the sincerity in her eyes, she realized that she had deceived not only the Ministry’s bureaucrats but herself as well.
Her hand trembled slightly as she raised it to Fleur's cheek, gently touching her skin, which was so warm and surprisingly familiar. She wanted to say something, to explain how she felt, but the words seemed to stick in her throat. So she simply leaned in, their gazes meeting, and finally, Hermione tilted her head, allowing her lips to brush against Fleur's—softly and cautiously, as if testing whether it would feel right.
When she pulled away, her voice came out almost as a whisper, but in the silence of the room, the words were crystal clear.
“Fleur,” she whispered, looking into her eyes, which were full of warmth and wonder. “You have become something more to me, too.”