Chapter Text
Fleur should have been asleep, resting up for the trials that would face her in a short matter of hours. After months of preparation, an encounter with true evil awaited. Tomorrow, she would attempt to defy one of the most powerful dark wizards of all time, one kept unnaturally alive by unfathomably nightmarish means.
Yet here she was, under the pale illumination of the waning crescent moon, looking out over the calm surface of the Black Lake. After saying goodnight to Hermione after a final strategy meeting with her, Hailey, and Dobby, Fleur had retired to her quarters in the Beauxbatons carriage. For over an hour, she tossed and turned in a tangle of sheets that felt just slightly too warm to be comfortable, until she decided to give up on the idea of sleep. She wrapped herself in a velvety robe the colour of the night sky and stepped barefoot from her room.
In truth, it wasn’t the danger on the horizon that kept her mind and stomach churning. Her concerns were altogether more personal. Tomorrow, Fleur Delacour would take two stands. One against the evil that called itself “Voldemort,” and the other against her own mother.
The crisp night air cooled the bare skin of Fleur’s upper chest as she exited the carriage, though her mind hardly registered the change. Her relationship with Apolline Delacour had not always been so strained, but as Fleur approached adulthood, she felt increasingly constrained by the pressure of her mother’s expectations. Apolline was a proud woman, the daughter and heir-apparent to the leader of the most influential and respected veela coven in France. Fleur had always idolized her mother as a child, hoping for nothing more than to grow up to be as graceful yet imperious as Apolline. However, as Fleur began to come into her veela heritage, her feelings shifted from awe to bitterness. Rather than finding her beauty a strength, as it had always seemed for her mother, Fleur found that it brought her nothing but trouble and insecurity. It ostracized her from her peers, lost her relationships with childhood best friends, and led to more than a few adolescent heartbreaks. All the while, she felt like an imposter, trying her best to emulate the effortlessly delicate strength that her mother so embodied.
The tournament had only exacerbated the issue. Finally, Fleur had a chance to prove herself as her mother’s daughter. If she could win the respect of her school, perhaps she could find the inner assurance she had always lacked. That had been the plan, anyway. Then Hermione Granger had changed everything.
Before long, Fleur heard the gentle sounds of swishing water. As a veela, being in nature was always soothing to Fleur, so it was unsurprising that her feet had led her to this particular spot by the lake. A gently sloping knoll of short blades of grass and soft soil resting delicately nestled between the dense tree coverage of the Forbidden Forest and the thin strip of pebbles and coarse sand lining the edge of the Black Lake. It was her favourite place on this cold, dreary island. Instinctively, she bent down and grasped a smooth rock, her fingers working it into position as she stepped towards the lake and, with perfect form, flung the stone along a bouncing path against the surface of the water.
The past few months had changed Fleur. It turned out that falling for a time-traveling mess of a young woman dead-set on making a better future for herself and those she loved was good for the soul. Fleur understood now that the path her mother envisioned for her was not what she envisioned for herself. But her insecurities were not easily cast aside, nor was the façade that had become a second skin when Fleur spent time with her mother.
To her increasingly palpable shame, Fleur had not yet told her parents about her relationship with Hermione. She could already hear Apolline’s incisive voice in her head, questioning how she could allow herself to be distracted from her schoolwork and tournament preparation by a fling with an English girl. Hadn’t Apolline been the one to hold her all those times Fleur had let herself be played by a classmate who valued her only for her sexual proclivities? Hadn’t Fleur learned her lesson by now?
Right or not, fair or not, Fleur simply didn’t want to face the expected judgment—or worse, dismissal. But her latest correspondence with Apolline had reminded her that her parents would be in attendance for the Third Task. She couldn’t avoid this confrontation much longer, and finally, Fleur chose to summon her courage. Thanks in large part to the unexpected comfort and acceptance she had been gifted by Hermione, Hailey, and their small group of peculiar friends, Fleur decided to be proactive about the inevitable meeting between Hermione and her parents.
Part of Fleur had considered whether it would be less terrifying to provide the news of her relationship via letter, in order to avoid the overwhelming power of Apolline’s presence. However, whatever else Fleur might be, she was not a coward. She would have this conversation in person, with Hermione at her side. Fleur felt so much more settled in herself when they were together, and she hoped that Hermione’s presence would be enough to ensure she didn’t slip back into familiar, acquiescent patterns. Even so, a short missive to her father was the best she could manage, in which she detailed a plan for lunch at the same restaurant Hermione had chosen for their first date and an intention to bring along a new friend she wanted her parents to meet. She trusted that her father would be able to sort out what she left unsaid.
Fleur skipped rocks for a good long while, until a single tentacle had burst forth and slapped away her latest throw. Respecting the giant squid’s irritability with her late-night hijinks, she had moved away from the water and laid down, flat on her back. Her arm ached, and her heart thumped wildly in her heart. Henri Delacour had written back only that he was very excited to meet Fleur’s friend and to experience the charms of Hogsmeade before the task. That was a week ago, and now, there were mere hours until the lunch. Fleur focused on deepening her breath, and, eventually, stormy thoughts gave way to a calm serenity. Fleur couldn’t sleep, but at least she could rest.
When she was pulled back into conscious thought, Fleur could not initially grasp why. The soothing sounds of the serene lake remained steady. The light breeze had not shifted nor strengthened. But a familiar scent spread a feeling of warmth through her body, and Fleur opened her eyes and sat up.
There was Hermione.
A wide smile broke across Fleur’s face as she turned to face the young woman she was rapidly falling in love with. She found a matching smile across Hermione’s lips as she approached, dressed simply in dark sweatpants and a well-loved pale red hoodie with the sleeves pushed up to her elbows. Her dark curls poured out of her hood and fell over her right shoulder.
“I hoped I might find you here,” Hermione said fondly. She dropped her bag on the grass and planted herself on Fleur’s lap. Her arms slipped over Fleur’s shoulders as she leaned in to give her a sweet kiss.
“You could not sleep either, mon coeur?”
Hermione’s smile brightened. “That’s a new one.”
Fleur’s brow furrowed. “A new—” she cut herself off as she realized what she had said. A momentary embarrassment passed in a heartbeat, and Fleur locked eyes with her girlfriend. “Ah, oui. I guess it just slipped out.” She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, struggling with an unexpected apprehension.
But Hermione simply rolled her eyes and pulled Fleur in for another kiss. “Don’t second-guess yourself, luv. I’m quite honoured that you think of me as your heart.” She rested her palm flat against Fleur’s sternum, and she could feel the warmth of it through her thin robes. She wondered if Hermione could feel her heart skip a beat at the gesture.
When Hermione spoke again, it was with much more trepidation in her voice. “Can I confess something that you’ll probably think is silly?”
Fleur blinked. “Of course.”
“It’s not because of everything with Voldemort. The reason I can’t sleep, I mean. I know it should be. It’s what I’ve worked so hard for, all this time. Time travel and all that, all to avert the end of the world, and it comes down to you and me and Dobby, tomorrow night. All that pressure. So much at stake. But all I can think about is what your mum is going to think of me!”
The moonlight betrayed Hermione’s blush, and it was so cute. But Fleur couldn’t enjoy it, not with the guilt that twisted her gut into knots. Forcing a half-way believable smile to her face, she responded coyly, “We could both die tomorrow, and you’re worried about Maman?”
Hermione scowled. “Hey, we are not going to die tomorrow. And anyways, your mum is a very intimidating woman!”
The proclamation caught Fleur off guard, and a loud, guileless, “what?” slipped out from her gaping mouth. “’Ow would you know that?”
“I didn’t tell you that I met your mum once?”
Fleur eyes narrowed. “No, you most certainly ‘ave not.”
Hermione looked slightly abashed, at least. “Okay well, in my defence, you got very cross with me the couple of times that I mentioned your marriage to William.”
“What ‘as that to do with ma mère?”
“She was at your wedding, obviously. It was at the Burrow, right before the Ministry fell.” Hermione’s gaze fell to her hands, which had begun to fidget together in the slim space between their bodies. “I didn’t exactly talk to her or anything, but she looked at me once, and let me just say, I felt like a small child again. And not in a good way! Oh shite, she’s absolutely going to think of me as a child. What if she thinks it’s off, you dating a 15-year-old?”
That gave Fleur a bit of pause. Hermione was actually older than Fleur, but it wasn’t like her parents could know that. “They probably won’t notice.” Fleur wasn’t sure who she was trying to reassure more, herself or Hermione. But when Hermione grimaced, Fleur did her best to sound confident. “No, really! I certainly did not think that you were so young when I made up a pretense to come see the confident girl who had smiled at me when I first arrived.”
Hermione’s eyes rose to meet Fleur’s again, a smug smile across her pink lips. “I bloody knew it!” she crowed. It was adorable, though Fleur stifled her natural inclination to grin at the outburst. “There was plenty of bouillabaisse at the Ravenclaw table.” Hermione captured her lips for the briefest moment. “Maybe you’re right. If I made such a first impression on you this time around, maybe I can do the same for your mum.”
“Oh?” Fleur teased. “Are you going to sneak her off for a private tour of the castle as well?”
Hermione blanched. “No! Of course not.” Fleur couldn’t keep herself from grinning, and Hermione promptly thumped her on the arm in retaliation. “You’re not funny, Fleur. And you’re certainly not helping.”
Fleur was still grinning, and she briefly considered pushing her luck by planting a kiss on Hermione’s very kissable nose. But that led her to another, much more intriguing idea. “You know,” she murmured, leaning in to place a soft kiss under Hermione’s jaw, “I think I know a way I could distract you from your worries.” She trailed another couple of kisses along her jaw, relishing the catch in Hermione’s breathing before lightly biting down on Hermione’s ear lobe.
“Fleur,” she panted.
“Hmm?”
“That’s a brilliant idea.” And just like that, Hermione was pushing her down, flat on her back. Her lips were soft but insistent, and Fleur practically drank her in as Hermione sank into her. She let herself get lost in Hermione’s lips and hair and the curve of her hip. Hermione worked at the shoulders of Fleur’s outer robes between kisses, pulling them off of her and exposing the soft silk of her nightgown. As Hermione settled back down onto her, Fleur could feel her heat through the thin fabric. Suddenly, all she could think about was wanting more, and Fleur practically growled into the next kiss, hands squeezing at Hermione’s curves as desire bloomed in her chest.
Their kisses were heated but languid, full of small sounds and electric touches. Hermione’s hand worked its way down Fleur’s body, creating a ripple of sensations that lingered even as her touches continued moving onward.
Finally, skin met skin as her fingers worked under the hem of Fleur’s nightgown and slid up the inside of Fleur bare thigh. The contact dragged a thrilled gasp out of her, which was followed by an immediate whine of outrage as Hermione withdrew her hand and began to pull away from Fleur entirely.
“Oh, calm down,” Hermione scolded. “I’m not going anywhere.” Wand in hand, she began to cast a number of spells. The speed with which she cast spoke to a level of experience and muscle memory that Fleur hadn’t really seen in Hermione before.
“What are you doing?” Fleur inquired.
“Giving us some privacy,” Hermione answered, without looking away from her casting. “Just putting up a few spells in case anyone wanders out here. No one will see or hear us, and they’ll feel an urge to avoid this area if they get too close.”
Fleur had known that Hermione was a gifted witch. She had even known, at least in the abstract, that Hermione’s experiences with magic had been shaped—and no doubt sharpened—by her participation in the war. It was entirely different to watch Hermione in action, however. The basics of the spells she was casting were probably fairly straightforward, but the intricate way she wove them together without much thought or effort spoke to a level of artistry and skill that left Fleur in awe.
If she was being completely honest, Fleur didn’t think she had ever wanted Hermione more than watching her cast these spells. And that’s when the importance of Hermione’s actions hit her, and Fleur suddenly felt breathless.
“Hermione?”
She didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she finished her spells and returned to her bag. From it came a familiar blanket and a few nondescript pillows, which came to rest neatly beside where Fleur remained seated on the grass. As she approached, Hermione’s hair fell into her face, and she quickly slipped an elastic from her wrist to haphazardly pull her hair back. Then, almost as an afterthought, she pulled her hoodie over her head and tossed it aside. Fleur could see the smooth skin of her stomach as she did so, and her eyes lingered on the jut of Hermione’s hip bones peeking out from the low-slung waist of her rolled over sweatpants. Fleur’s stomach somersaulted at the mesmerizing view of Hermione’s torso in nothing but a thin tank top. Freckled shoulders gave way to sharp collarbones, and Hermione’s normally tawny skin looked fair in the silvery moonlight. Fleur was so captivated that she forgot what little apprehension had previously gripped her.
Only once Hermione settled down on the blanket did her eyes meet Fleur’s again.
“Come here,” she beckoned, and Fleur did. It felt almost like a dream, the warm air pleasant against her skin as she left her robes behind and dropped down to straddle Hermione’s lap. But her senses were too sharp to be a dream. The cotton of Hermione’s sweatpants felt soft and inviting against her thighs. Fleur felt every bit of contact as Hermione maneuvered them to rest side by side, legs entwined deliciously. Her hand came to rest on the swell of Hermione’s hip, and Hermione’s own rose to cup Fleur’s cheek.
“Hi,” she murmured, and Fleur heard the wonder in her tone as if she was feeling it herself. The moment would have felt magical if she wasn’t so viscerally aware of how turned on she was right then. Still, she resisted the near overwhelming urge to press into Hermione and unleash everything she was feeling right then.
“Bonsoir,” she responded, breathlessly. The silence that fell between them was tentative, just waiting for one or the other to breach it. Then Hermione slipped her thigh ever so slightly upward from where it rested between Fleur’s legs to press against her center, almost as if to make a point. Fleur gasped, and before she knew it, she was pressing hot, wet kisses to Hermione’s lips again. Hermione kissed her back with fervor, and Fleur’s mind turned hazy with desire.
It took all of her willpower to pull back just enough to press a finger to Hermione’s lips. “Are you sure?” she panted.
“Absolutely,” Hermione answered, her voice raspy with lust but without a hint of uncertainty. “Please, Fleur. Touch me.”
Fleur’s lips were on her again before she could finish the invitation, dragging her teeth lightly across Hermione’s pulse point and then soothing the spot with soft kisses. Her hand, meanwhile, cupped Hermione’s breast through thin fabric. She enjoyed the feeling of its full weight in her palm before beginning to press into the soft flesh with her fingers. Hermione’s thigh pressed into her again, and Fleur’s hands moved to the swells of Hermione’s hip and ass, gripping and pulling.
“I need to feel you,” Fleur panted, her fingers slipping inside of the waist of Hermione’s sweatpants as she pulled back to look into brown eyes now darker than Fleur had ever seen them.
Hermione nodded breathlessly. “Please.”
Fleur slipped them down Hermione’s muscular legs with both hands, trailing kisses from her thigh down to the top of her foot. That last kiss drew a bright giggle from Hermione, and they shared a joyful smile as Fleur crawled back towards Hermione. She leaned in to kiss her, sultry and tantalizing, and Fleur delighted in the small sound Hermione made as their breasts brushed together.
“Your turn,” Hermione insisted, fingers already grasping at the hem of Fleur’s nightgown. Fleur was quick to lift her arms and let Hermione pull the silk from her body. She felt like she might die if she couldn’t feel more of Hermione’s skin against her own, and Hermione’s tank top was quickly discarded as well.
Hermione was on top of her, and Fleur’s back arched into the contact as taut nipples teased down her stomach. “You’re so beautiful,” Hermione crooned. Her mouth was hot and wet against Fleur’s breast, tongue drawing sparks along the sensitive skin. Fleur’s fingers found their way into Hermione’s hair, tensing in pleasure. Teeth came next, and Fleur felt her legs spread further open as her body sought contact of its own accord. Hermione reacted instinctively, pressing a thigh firmly against the cotton underwear that was now the only barrier between them.
“You’re so wet for me,” Hermione rejoiced. Fleur blushed a little, but not because she was embarrassed by her arousal. She felt intensely vulnerable to Hermione’s unabashed praise. Unable to do anything else, she ground into Hermione’s firm thigh, humming as her body wound tighter at the increased friction.
Fleur could have lived in these moments for ages, relishing in the slow build of steady, exploratory touches. She wanted to learn every subtle detail of Hermione’s body and wanted Hermione to do the same to her. Under the night sky, it felt like they could get lost in each other, and time would cease to exist. But Hermione had other ideas.
“I need these out of the way,” she insisted, relinquishing her lips’ hold on Fleur’s breast so that she could speak again. Her hands grasped desperately at Fleur’s underwear, and Fleur happily lifted her hips to help Hermione accomplish her goal.
Then Hermione’s hungry eyes were upon her. She sat there silently, and Fleur could feel the heat of her gaze as it drifted and savored her entire body. As with most veela, Fleur was proud of her physical form, but the experience of being perceived by Hermione was something entirely different. Hermione made her feel like art. Divine. Decadent.
“I want to taste you.”
«Fuck,» Fleur gasped, her mind too full of lust to bother with English.
“Is that a yes?” Hermione chuckled, and Fleur groaned impatiently.
«Put your mouth on me this instant!»
Hermione’s tongue was nimble and curious. Her hand slipped under Fleur’s thigh, lifting her leg over Hermione’s shoulder. Her nose glided briefly against Fleur’s clit, and her entire body jerked at the sudden burst of feeling. Hermione, ever the diligent student, experimented until she developed a sense of how Fleur responded to her touch. Fleur was drowning in it.
Things suddenly began escalating as Hermione found the right rhythm, and Fleur’s hand reached out, yearning for contact. Hermione’s hand found hers, and Fleur gripped tightly as their fingers intertwined. She cried out, body somehow both tense with barely contained energy as the fire in her nerve endings continued to build. When it happened, Hermione consumed her release with relish. Fleur rode her climax out on Hermione’s tongue until she couldn’t handle the sensation any longer.
“Stop,” she exhaled, and Hermione let her head slip to the side and rest against Fleur’s inner thigh. Their hands still gripped each other tightly, and Fleur felt as though she could feel their heartbeats pulsing rapidly as one through that connection. Slowly, she reclaimed the ability to breathe normally.
When Fleur could form conscious thoughts again, she lifted her head from the pillow. Hermione had not moved, and she looked up at Fleur through hooded, adoring eyes. Her lips glistened in the moonlight, and Fleur felt another shock of arousal run down her spine. Hermione placed a soft kiss to the still slick skin between Fleur’s center and her thigh, and it was somehow the sweetest thing Fleur had ever experienced.
“I think I’m in love with you.”
Hermione’s eyes widened, and after a beat, so did her smile.
“Yeah?” She sounded awestruck.
Fleur sat up enough to reach out and pull Hermione towards her. She kissed her, pouring her overwhelming feelings into it. “Yeah,” she answered softly, and she could feel Hermione’s breath on her lips.
“I think I might be falling in love with you too.”
Tomorrow would bring what it would bring—for now, all that mattered was this.
It was the morning of the Third Task, and Hailey’s insides were so tightly knotted that she barely had any appetite at breakfast. Today, everything would change. And not just because of the confrontation with Voldemort. As if Hermione and Fleur would allow her to be anywhere near that conflict.
No, today was the day Hailey would come out to Sirius and Remus. Friends and family of the champions had been invited to Hogwarts to witness the task. She would get her moment alone with them, finally. While Hailey and Sirius had kept up a regular correspondence during the two months since Sirius was acquitted, she hadn’t seen him in person since that night in Professor Dumbledore’s office. Sirius’s growing presence in her life was comforting, but she still couldn’t quite trust the hope she felt growing inside. For the first time in her life, it was starting to feel like she actually had a real parent, rather than guardians who hated her or vague ideas about long-dead figures she couldn’t even remember.
But it was too scary to embrace Sirius wholeheartedly, because the chance of rejection still felt so terrifyingly real.
Fortunately, two months was a long time to process and, more importantly, plan. Ginny and Hermione had been her primary confidants as she talked over if and how she wanted to come out to Sirius. She’d finally decided to do so after Easter, when she had gone with Luna, Ginny, and Hermione to visit Madam Vance.
Hailey was entranced with the middle-aged witch almost immediately upon meeting her. Ina, as she had insisted they all call her, had radiated warmth, and Hailey had marveled just at the sight of her. She hadn’t voiced the thought at the time, but Hailey would never have guessed that Ina was trans if she hadn’t already known. She just looked like a normal witch, a realization that filled Hailey with more hope than she had ever experienced before. Her friends had left her and Ina alone for the afternoon to share experiences and get to know each other, and before they left, she took samples of Hailey’s hair and blood. The potions were complicated and took time and care, but they had agreed that Ina would have them ready by the end of term.
All she had to do now was figure out where she would be going for the summer, and that started with Sirius’s reaction to her coming out news.
At breakfast, Hermione and Ginny sat on either side of her. They were a bit over-the-top with the bright smiles, encouraging words, and caring touches. Hailey secretly loved it. At the end of breakfast, Hermione gave her a big hug, and Ginny followed it up with an even bigger hug and a kiss on the cheek. While the champions were exempt from exams, everyone else in their little group had final exams right after breakfast. As such, Fleur and Hailey couldn’t bring their girlfriends with them to meet their families.
Not right away, anyway. Hailey knew Hermione planned to meet up with Fleur and the Delacours after her morning exam, with plans for lunch in Hogsmeade. As for the Weasleys, Hailey and Ginny didn’t have any concrete plans. A lot depended on how her conversation with Sirius went. But they had tentatively agreed to tell Ginny’s parents that they were dating, because there was simply no way to convince the twins not to tease Ginny about it in front of them. Still, the anxiety over coming out to Sirius—and probably Remus too, given that their relationship had already grown pretty serious—was already more than Hailey could handle, at least when combined with her concern over the danger that Hermione, Fleur, and Dobby would be in that night.
The tumult surrounding her relationship with Ginny hadn’t simply gone away when Ginny accepted Hailey for who she was. Gossip about their romantic relationship had quickly spread around the castle, and Hailey had suffered no small amount of angst at the resulting commentary about being Ginny’s “boyfriend.” The worst part was the Gryffindors who were genuinely happy for them but didn’t know how much pain they caused by their unnecessarily gendering and heterosexualization of what felt like the most blissfully queer relationship of Hailey’s young life.
All the more reason for Hailey to want to come out, not just to her family and friends, but to the public more broadly. Unfortunately, she genuinely couldn’t imagine anything more terrifying than the confusion, bigotry, and vitriol she felt sure would follow when the wizarding world found out that their beloved “Boy Who Lived” wanted to be a girl instead.
So, she was starting with her godfather. Who would become her adopted father, if everything went well. Hailey’s chest tightened anxiously, and part of her worried she might make herself sick before she could even get the words out.
After a brief, whispered conversation with Hermione, Fleur slipped an arm over Hailey’s shoulder and took Gabrielle’s hand as the three of them walked together towards the antechamber where their families waited. The room off the side of the Great Hall was largely unchanged from the beginning of the school year, but it felt a lot smaller to Hailey. She didn’t think she had grown, so maybe it was just that the room was so full. Cedric and his parents were just inside the door, while Krum and his were conversing in the far corner. What must have been the Delacour clan was waiting for Fleur off to the side, and Gabby immediately broke free of her sister’s hold to rush into the waiting arms of the jovial, dark-haired man who must be her father.
Finally, Hailey found Sirius and Remus chatting pleasantly with Molly and Bill Weasley as the four of them stood around the fireplace. Locking eyes with Mrs. Weasley first, then Sirius, Hailey drew in a steadying breath. She squeezed a quick side hug out of Fleur, who whispered a reassuring “Good luck” in her ear and left her side with a smile and a wave.
“Surprise!” Mrs. Weasley said excitedly as Hailey approached the group. “Thought we’d come and watch you, Harry!” She bent down and kissed Hailey on the cheek. Then her eyes narrowed as she took in Hailey’s features. “We have got to do something about your hair, dear. I think it’s longer than Bill’s!”
Hailey shrunk back, feeling intensely awkward. Her hair hadn’t been cut, save for trimming her fringe, in nearly two years at this point. She wore it in her usual style, her hair half up in a bun at the crown of her head, with the rest flowing down in dark waves. She had only recently realized that her hair had gone from brushing against her shoulders to resting gently upon them at all times.
Her hair was one of her most regular sources of gender euphoria, but now she feared that it exposed her far more than she would like. There had been rude comments and bullying from Malfoy and others about how girly her hair seemed, but that only added to her feelings of triumph—the irony of Malfoy’s taunts actually being affirming to her sense of self was a delicious in-joke with Hermione and Ginny. But it was different coming from Mrs. Weasley. Hailey glanced down at herself, worrying that any other hint of her true gender was making itself known. Fortunately, her baggy school robes hid the shape of her chest, which had recently forced her to begin wearing one of Ginny’s old training bras.
Fortunately, it was immediately obvious that Hailey was the only one who gave Mrs. Weasley’s comment a second’s thought. Sirius dropped to a knee as he chided, “Come now, Molly, I told you I already let him know we were coming,” Then he wrapped Hailey up in his arms with a playful growl that made her giggle. When Sirius pulled back, he smiled at her so brightly that she felt like just maybe, everything would work out just fine.
Bill greeted Hailey with a quick squeeze on her shoulder. “Charlie wanted to come, but he couldn’t get time off. He said you were incredible against the Horntail.”
“Don’t worry,” Molly added, “Arthur will be here for the Final Task tonight, as soon as he gets off work at the Ministry.”
Hailey smiled at that. As nervous as she was about, well, everything, the Weasleys were still great at making her feel so very cared for. “Th-thanks for coming,” she beamed. “This is really nice of you.”
“We wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” Remus answered, and Bill and Molly nodded in agreement. “How are you feeling about the task?”
“Good,” she answered, honestly. Hailey had no intention of winning it, or even really facing down any of its obstacles. She has strict orders to keep herself safe until everything was in place and then bow out gracefully. “How are things going with the new flat? Are you all moved in?”
“Oh yes,” Sirius answered for his boyfriend. “We’re quite cozy now that I finally convinced dear Moony that the world won’t end if an acquitted murderer and a werewolf move in together.”
Remus rolled his eyes, but happily kissed Sirius’s cheek. “I had legitimate concerns.”
“Bah, who cares what the world thinks. One thing I’ve learned from all the suffering and loss is that you've gotta celebrate love as often and as much as you can. It’s the most precious thing in the world, and I couldn’t give two shits who has a problem with it.” Sirius winked mischievously at Hailey, and his words warmed her heart.
It was remarkable how much had changed since she and Hermione met up with the two of them at the Hog’s Head earlier in the term. Now cleared of all wrongdoing and restored to his place as the sole surviving member of the so-called Great and Noble House of Black, much of Sirius’s courage and brazenness had returned. Now it was Remus who was the more cautious of the two. Even so, it was beyond obvious that the two were very happy together.
Molly, however, was quick to scold. “Language, Mr. Black. Even if it really is a lovely sentiment. You two make a darling couple.” Only Hailey noticed how taken aback Bill seemed to be at his mother’s acceptance of Sirius and Remus, though he quickly hid it behind a soft smile.
Remus, however, shied away from the attention. “Okay okay, this is all very lovely, but I should remind you all that we’re here for young Harry.”
“Um, actually,” she sputtered, casting an apologetic look in the Weasleys’ general direction. “S-sorry, but I-I need to t-talk w-with—” Her stuttering attempt to ask for some privacy with her godfather was cut off abruptly as Sirius stood behind her and bolstered her spirit with a warm hand on each of her shoulders.
“Actually,” he explained confidently, “my godson and I need to have a bit of a private conversation. Perhaps we could meet up with you all a bit later, say, in the Gryffindor common room? I'm sure we’d all love to see our old haunts again while we’re here.”
Mrs. Weasley frowned slightly, then conceded, “Well alright, dear.” She exchanged a glance with Bill, then Remus, and added, “I suppose we’ll be alright left to our own devices for a bit.”
Hailey looked from Sirius to Remus and back again, then made a decision. “Umm, Professor Lupin, you should come too. Now that you two are living together and everything. Could we, maybe, go for a walk out by the lake? It’s nice out.”
She’d specifically chosen that location because of how well her coming out to Tonks had gone. Hailey didn’t know if she believed in luck, necessarily, but she hoped that the good memories would give her strength. Remus simply smiled and nodded, then followed Sirius as he began to lead Hailey out of the room.
“We won’t be gone long,” she said, turning her head to face the Weasleys again. “See you soon!”
On the way out of the Great Hall and towards the castle’s main entrance, Remus stepped up to Hailey’s other side and commented, “You really can just call me Remus now, you know. I’m no longer a professor, after all. Just your godfather’s boyfriend.”
The three of them laughed at that, and Hailey offered a quiet, “okay,” as they stepped into the warm light of the morning sun. They walked in silence for a few moments, then Sirius asked, “So what did you want to talk about? Are you rethinking the adoption thing? Because I’ve been thinking about it, and I want to do whatever will make you the happiest, Dumbledore’s worries be damned.”
Hailey could feel them both watching her, but she didn’t slow her pace towards the lake. Once there, and encouraged by Sirius’s willingness to stand up to Dumbledore, she glanced around to ensure no one was within listening distance before answering, “No.” She made a face. “Well, okay, yes. But there’s something important I have to tell you both before.” She swallowed, her mouth and throat suddenly feeling dry. As they approached the gently lapping waves at the bank of the lake, she considered summoning her broom and flying away. “You might not even want to adopt me after I tell you,” she whispered.
Both men immediately stopped walking, and Hailey turned to face them, her heart racing. Remus looked confused, while Sirius had an expression something closer to outrage. Then, as if sensing her trepidation, his face softened. “Kiddo, there is absolutely nothing you could tell me that would ever change how I feel about you. No matter what you do, you will always have a home with me, for as long as you want it.”
“You mean that?” she asked, gob smacked at his certainty. “You promise?”
“I promise,” he assured, and Remus took a step forward beside him.
“As do I. I know I’m not your godfather, but your parents were my best friends. And I am desperately in love with Sirius. If it’s what you want, we both promise to make our home, your home. No matter what.”
Hailey could already feel herself tearing up, and she sucked in a deep breath to try and hold it back. She decided she couldn’t face them if she was going to get all of this out, so she turned to face the lake. “The thing is. . . I’m not Harry Potter. I’m not the “Boy Who Lived.” I’m not a boy, at all.”
For a moment, silence settled in around them, broken only by the soft sounds of nature around them. Behind her, Sirius took a step forward, only for Remus to hold him back, shaking his head as the two of them communicated silently. Then, with the gentlest voice Hailey had ever heard him speak in, Sirius asked, “What do you mean?”
A cool breeze came off the lake, refreshing against her skin and hair, and suddenly, everything clicked into place. This is going to be okay, Hailey told herself, then spoke her truth. “I’m a girl. I only realized it this year, but looking back, I think I always have been.”
She was surprised when Sirius’s warm hand enveloped her shoulder, and she turned to face him. He was on his knees again, erasing their height difference. Hailey did her best to stand confidently under his gaze, willing him to trust that she knew who she was. Time passed, and then Sirius’s mouth curved into a crooked smile, and he took her other hand. “Well, then, lass. What’s your name?”
Her eyes turned hot, a gasp escaping her lips. “Y-you . . .” Warm tears splashed down her cheeks. “You don’t have questions?”
Sirius chuckled, then wiped away her tears. “I’m fairly sure I just asked one.” Hailey gaped at him for entirely too long before registering what he meant, and then they both broke into a fit of giggles. She snorted, then wiped at her nose so she could breathe better through the tears.
“Yeah, okay, you did, but . . . I guess I didn’t expect you to just accept it so quick. Most p-p-people are skeptical at first.”
“Well, I've never really bothered with being like most people," Sirius joked. "So? You gonna answer my question?"
“Hailey,” she exclaimed. “Hailey Evans Potter.”
Sirius smiled even brighter. “A beautiful name. James and Lily couldn’t have done any better themselves. But I do think they’d have been so proud of you.”
Hailey was back in his arms before he finished talking, wrapping her arms around his neck in a tight hug. Sirius held her just as tightly, and she sobbed into dark curls that smelled pleasant. It was a scent that could easily picture herself calling “home.” She felt like her heart might explode. Hailey had no idea why Sirius was being so cool about everything, and she honestly didn't care.
She was going to have a home. A father. Who she could actually trust.
Who actually loved her.
“You really think they would’ve been okay with—with me, being a girl? Proud of me?” Hailey hadn’t pulled free from the hug, and Sirius was holding up her entire weight like she was nothing.
“I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life,” he assured her, stroking her hair. Finally, she pulled back from him, and again, he wiped her tears away.
“Thank you,” she whispered, overcome with feeling.
“You will never have to thank me for supporting my daughter,” he answered, and the two of them just beamed at each other. She had no idea how much time actually passed before they both remembered that Remus was there, too. But even then, Sirius continued to hold Hailey in his arms, even as he turned a questioning gaze on his boyfriend.
“You’re being very quiet there, Moony. Want to share with the class?”
Hailey breathed a sigh of relief when Remus cracked a wry smile, and only then did she notice the sheen over his eyes and the tear tracks down his cheeks. “Didn’t want to ruin the moment, of course.” His face turned wistful. “I’m so proud of both of you. James and Lily would be so happy to see you both embracing who you are. And loving each other like it’s the easiest thing in the world.” Then he knelt down and opened his arms. “Also I think I’d like a Hailey hug too. If that’s alright?”
When she leapt into his arms, he sprang up in the air and spun her around. Hailey didn’t even pretend not to be delighted. For the first time in her life, she genuinely felt like a little girl. It was everything she could’ve ever wanted.
“I want you to adopt me,” she practically shouted when Remus put her back on the ground. She grabbed both their hands. “I don’t ever want to see the Dursleys again.”
“The girl has spoken!” Sirius proclaimed in a funny accent, “And so it shall be done!” Once more, the new family burst into a fit of giggles.
“But first,” Remus suggested, “maybe you want to explain yourself, young lady.”
“Yes, yes,” Sirius concurred. “Tell us your story!”
Despite getting very little sleep, Hermione had floated through her morning on a cloud of love and satisfaction. Breakfast with Fleur and their friends had been bliss, even if Hermione kept blushing wildly every time she made eye contact with Fleur. She had rushed through her morning exam, utterly distracted by thoughts of the night before. Her original teenage self would have been horrified, but Hermione hoped to track down Hailey, Sirius, and Remus before she was scheduled to meet up with the Delacours in Hogsmeade. Fortunately, they were in the first place she looked, the Gryffindor Common Room, along with Molly and William.
Her eyes first met with William’s, and Hermione had to remind herself that this version of her friend didn’t really know her very well yet. Unsure of how exactly to handle the fact, she blushed and quickly turned her gaze to Hailey. Adorably, she found her perched piggy-back on Sirius, animated explaining something that had Molly and Remus enraptured. It was a testament to the former convict’s improving health that his posture betrayed no difficulty in holding Hailey up.
That one image told Hermione everything she needed to know about how Hailey’s conversation with her prospective adopted father had gone. A wave of pride threatened to knock her over as she hurried over to the group with a broad smile across her face. Everyone turned to face her with genuinely happy expressions and warm greetings. “Hermione, dear, how are you?” Molly asked after a brief hug. “I take it that your exam was no match for you?”
Hermione chuckled and answered with a quick, “No, it was not.” She was pretty sure she’d have a worse grade than she had originally and was delighted to realize it didn’t pull at her anxiety like it would have years ago. Instead, she couldn’t stop watching Hailey, who looked more at ease than Hermione had even seen her. Hailey beamed back at her, nodding a gleeful affirmative in answer to the silent question behind Hermione’s gaze. Her heart continued to explode with joy, and Hermione exchanged a glance with Sirius next. He blushed when she mouthed an obvious, “thank you,” at him, but she could tell he was just as excited as Hailey.
Before Molly or William could comment, Remus spoke. “We were just listening to Harry's stories about class with Professor Moody.” The slight stumble over Hailey’s dead name probably wasn’t even noticeable to the Weasleys. “To be honest,” he continued, “I am quite surprised to hear about his teaching style, not exactly what I had expected when I heard he would be serving as my replacement for the year. How have you found his classes, Hermione?”
The question hit her like a ton of bricks. Moody was, after all, not Moody at all, and none of them had any idea. Horror and anger welled within her, and Hermione only barely held in a venomous retort, something along the lines of “Shockingly good teaching for a Death Eater.”
Her face turned hot as she scurried about the suddenly empty recesses of her mind, desperate to find any response that she could actually say out loud right then.
“He’s fine. A bit unorthodox,” was the best she could cobble together, and it came out in a pitch at least an octave higher than usual. Trying her best to collect herself, she added, “I can’t actually stick around and chat. I’m meeting my girlfriend and her family for lunch. Just wanted to swing by and say hi.”
Before she could turn and leave, William choked out an astonished, “What do you mean, ‘girlfriend?’” The second the words left his mouth, he looked as though he had snapped out of a trance, and his red cheeks looked almost as hot as Hermione’s felt.
Memories of her night with Fleur flooded her mind. The electric feel of Fleur’s skin against her own. The way her body heat warded off the slight chill of the night breeze. The taste of Fleur as Hermione explored between her thighs. Hermione could feel the pressure between her own thighs build, embarrassed to realize just how aroused the memories had made her. She almost couldn’t breathe as she finally paid attention to how everyone else had reacted to the question.
Molly looked utterly baffled, while William appeared to be equal parts embarrassed and apologetic. The other three just looked worried for Hermione. Overcome with a need to fill in the silence, Hermione’s mouth began talking before she could overthink anything. “Yeah, I’m actually dating the Beauxbatons champion, Fleur Delcour. And I’m meeting her parents for the first time. Which I don’t want to be late for, so I guess we’ll have to talk about this later!”
This time, Hermione fled the room without regard for the quiet gaggle of mixed words coming from behind her. She was down the Great Stairs and in the Entrance Hall before she realized that her heart was beating out of control. What the hell was that? she asked herself. She had been convinced she was done with the “getting nervous about coming out to adults” part of her queer journey, but if that was true then, seriously, what the hell was that?
“You having a panic attack, there, Granger?” Hermione jumped two feet into the air as the voice, combined with a teasing press of fingers to her ribcage, jolted her out of her mental fog. Breathing even harder now, she glared at Helen Dawlish, who had the most annoyingly smug grin on her face. Even worse, the expression fit her stupidly beautiful face far too well.
Then Helen raised her hands in surrender. “Now, before you get all angry with me, please take into consideration the fact that that was the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen, and I enjoyed it tremendously.” She slipped closer and slung an arm over Hermione’s shoulder, as if hoping the proximity would prevent Hermione from exploding. “As my best friend, shouldn’t you be happy to bring me such joy?”
Hermione was so stunned by Helen’s brazenness that she hardly noticed her body mechanically following Helen’s lead by starting a slow walk towards the doors of the castle. “Since when am I your best friend? We’ve hung out exactly twice.”
Helen stiffened, then covered it by offering an over-the-top pout and a faux-sad, “Mean.” She sniffed dramatically, as if deeply offended. “Maybe after that second time, I decided to adopt you as my best friend. Maybe you don’t have any choice in the matter, and just accept that you’ll be seeing a lot more of my great ass and it will be very confusing for that ginormous gay brain of yours.”
Hermione snorted out a laugh at that, then started to retort that she couldn’t even see Helen’s ass through her robes before she really took in Helen’s appearance for the first time that day. The sixth year was wearing muggle clothes. And while she clearly lacked much knowledge about muggle fashion, her red tartan trousers hugged her butt quite nicely. “Whose clothes did you steal?” she joked.
“Always so quick to impugn my honour,” Helen scolded, then made a clucking sound as she bumped a hip against Hermione’s. “I’ll have you know that I traded for these clothes fair and square.”
Helen was a pureblood, and Hermione had never seen her in anything but traditionally witchy attire. She hadn’t really said much about her family yet, but Hermione could tell, despite sharing a similar wardrobe with the majority of the well-off bigots in Slytherin house, the similarities ended there. So, seeing Helen in these clothes made Hermione feel all warm and gooey inside. She felt seen.
Maybe she did want to be best friends with Helen Dawlish.
Then, they passed through the front gates of the school. Hermione blinked, her head twisting back even as Helen kept them walking forward. “Where are we going?” she asked.
“I’m guessing Hogsmeade at this point. But you’re the one leading us, you tell me where we’re going.”
Again, Hermione frowned deeply. “What do you mean, I’m leading?” Hermione suddenly become mortifyingly aware of how little she had thought about the movements of her body ever since Helen insisted she was Hermione’s new best friend. She wasn’t sure she liked how easily Helen flustered her. But she was at least a little right—now that they were beyond the gates, Hogsmeade was really the only plausible destination for them. Still, it was fun to banter with Helen, so she quickly added, “whatever, you’re full of it, Dawlish.”
Helen rolled her eyes. “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about, darling. But seriously, where are we going?”
Hermione thought about the question for only an instant before her stomach fluttered nervously. “Actually, I’m having lunch with Fleur and her family.” She blushed. “I would invite you, but—”
“But you’re meeting the parents for the first time,” Helen finished, her eyes turning suspiciously soft. “That’s a big deal in muggle culture, right?”
“Yeah, I s’pose it is, a little.” Hermione frowned. “But I’m gonna be the only muggle there, so I’m not sure it matters much.”
“Does Fleur know that it’s a big deal for you?” Helen inquired gently.
“Of course, she—” Hermione’s voice trailed off as she realized that she and Fleur hadn’t ever discussed it. Hermione, in love for the first time in her life, hadn’t given nearly enough thought to how her muggle expectations of romance and relationship might not perfectly align with the expectations of Fleur and her family. When Fleur had asked Hermione to have lunch with her and her family, Hermione had taken that as a sign that Fleur felt confident in their relationship. But the way Helen talked about it, “meeting the parents” wasn’t really a thing in magical culture, or at least, not for pureblood families. She felt suddenly out of her depth, and she hated it.
Stupid, Granger. Always question your biases. You know better.
“You’re thinking really loudly over there, Granger.”
“Just realizing that I have no idea what I’m doing.” They had reached Hogsmeade now, and the streets were bustling more than usual. But Hermione barely noticed. “I barely know what I’m doing when it comes to romance, even by muggle standards. But I’m not dating a muggle, and even if I was, things are different when it’s two girls. And on top of that, I’m dating a French witch, whose family is really well off. What do I know about French magical dating culture?! And she’s veela!”
Hermione’s heart sank. What if she messed everything up? What if she couldn’t live up to Apolline Delacour’s expectations?
Warm hands squeezed her shoulders, and Hermione realized that they were no longer walking. Helen was facing her, concern painted across her features. “Breathe, Granger. I promise it’ll be okay.”
Nodding, Hermione worked to slow her breathing, forcing herself to focus as she sucked in the warm summer air, held it in her chest, and released it carefully. She became aware of the street around them. Crowds of people continued to mill about, their voices muddled and indistinct. Across the street was Tomes and Scrolls, which meant that Helen had stopped them in front of the post office, Hermione guessed. When she met Helen’s gaze again, Hermione felt her body release the panic.
“Thanks, Dawlish. I needed that.”
Helen affected a haughty expression as she released Hermione. “I aim to please,” she preened, then turned serious again. “Listen, I don’t think you have anything to worry about. You strike me as the thoughtful type. Just be respectful, pay attention, and be your lovely self. You’ll be fine. You’re crazy about Fleur, and that’s what’s really important.”
Hermione smiled. Maybe it really was that simple. “Thank you. Something you should know about me is that I tend to overthink things.”
“Yeah, that’s pretty obvious, nerd.” She took a step closer. “You gonna be okay now? Need me to walk you to the restaurant?”
Hermione shook her head. “I’m okay. I can take it from here.”
Helen’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Don’t want to be seen walking up with the hottest woman any of them will ever see, I get it. Might give the parents the wrong idea.”
Unable to stifle a deep laugh at her antics, Hermione did her best to act exasperated about it. “Careful. You know all the women are veela, right?”
Helen’s cheeks pinked. “Shit. You’re right.” Hermione took the opportunity to be the smug one for once, which Helen only seemed to take as a challenge. “Maybe I should come with. There’s probably a sister or cousin or someone they could set me up with, right?”
“You wish,” Hermione quipped. They each stepped closer to each other, then froze as they realized what they were doing. Were they friends who hugged now? Before she could overthink it, Helen closed the distance and pulled her into a warm hug. Yeah, they were definitely friends who hugged now.
They pulled apart, and Helen wished her luck. Apparently, luck was a shared cultural concept. Hermione turned to walk away, and Helen waited until she was several steps away before startling her, again, with a shouted, “And tell your girlfriend I’ll be rooting for her tonight!”
Hermione laughed out loud, and the good cheer carried her the rest of the way to Grimblehawk’s. No one was waiting outside, so she entered the restaurant without another thought. She was almost to the host’s desk when she saw them, and she nodded politely as she made eye contact with the witch at the desk and walked awkwardly past her. The Delacours, along with Katarina, were seated together at a rectangular table in the far corner. Fleur’s back was to Hermione, sitting in the middle of the table with Katarina to her left and an empty place to her right. Across from them, their backs to the wall, were Gaby and a handsome man that must be Fleur’s father. And at the head of the table, in the corner and right next to Hermione’s empty seat, had to be her mother.
Apolline Delacour was the most regal person Hermione had ever seen. Her jaw looked sharp enough to cut glass, and her high cheekbones elegantly framed her piercing blue-grey eyes. She was the first person to notice Hermione, and for just a moment, time stopped as Apolline’s sharp gaze captured Hermione. She felt like an insect being studied under a microscope, as if every aspect of her existence could be seen in uncomfortably vivid detail.
It was not a pleasant experience. But then Fleur had turned to see her, and everything was okay again. The entire table stood as Hermione slipped into Fleur’s personal space, hesitating just long enough for Fleur to take the initiative and pull her close for a soft kiss to her cheek. Fleur’s hand settled around Hermione’s hips as they both faced the table for introductions.
“Maman. Papa. I would like to introduce you to Hermione Granger, my girlfriend.” A goofy grin spread across her father’s stubbly face, in direct contrast with Apolline’s tightening jaw and skeptical gaze. “Hermione, this is my papa, Henri, and my maman, Apolline.”
Hermione forced what she hoped looked like a confident smile and extended her hand to Henri, who took it and kissed it softly. Unlike Fleur, Hermione was careful to speak in French. «Mr. and Mrs. Delacour, I’m so happy to meet you.» She started to offer her hand to Apolline as well, but when their eyes met again, it suddenly felt inappropriate.
The half-veela was shorter than Hermione expected, but her height in no way diminished the power of her presence. Hermione did her best not to wilt under the woman’s discerning glare. Her heart sank a little as Apolline took her seat again, without a word to Hermione. Everyone else followed suit, and Henri was quick to break the tension.
«The pleasure is all ours, Hermione. But, please, call me Henri. Your French is quite good, but some of us--» he paused to cast a playful glance in Katarina’s direction, then switched to English, “Some of us don’t speak French quite as well as you.” Gabby laughed as Katarina rolled her eyes, but her affection for Henri’s teasing was obvious. Hermione, however, could see that Henri’s friendliness and humor masked a nervous aura as his eyes cut briefly towards his wife, who remained silent.
“Yes, Hermione. Do stop embarrassing the rest of us,” Katarina drawled. The Delacour sisters both snickered, well used to Katarina’s dry humour and faux scorn for Hermione’s more perfectionistic tendencies.
Then, for the first time, Apolline spoke. “I take it that you are acquainted with Miss Granger as well, Katarina?”
Her tone was odd. Not obviously antagonistic, but not particularly friendly either. Curious, perhaps. But it was enough to give Hermione the sneaking suspicion that Apolline didn’t want her there. If Fleur’s suddenly stiff posture and Katarina’s narrowed, suspicious eyes were any measure, she wasn’t the only one unnerved by Apolline’s question.
“That’s a weird question,” Gabby said, clearly the only one at the table not picking up on the weird energy. “’Ermione is friends with all of us, ever since she captured Fleur’s ’eart.”
“And when was this?” Apolline asked, her voice measured.
Hermione’s face scrunched at that. What did she mean, when? Didn’t she know? Hadn’t Fleur mentioned it? She turned to Fleur, desperate for an explanation. Fleur’s face was rigid in a way Hermione hadn’t seen since Second Task. Then, their eyes met. Immediately, her face softened, and Hermione could feel the shame and regret radiating off of her.
“Fleur?” Katarina asked, sounding just as confused as Hermione.
Fleur’s eyes cut back to Katarina, then to Apolline, then her attention fell back fully on Hermione. Her hand squeezed Hermione’s, and Hermione got the message. Fleur needed her to trust her right then. Hermione placed her hand onto Fleur’s and squeezed gently before turning her hand over to entwine their fingers. Then she smiled as reassuringly as she could.
Hermione watched as Fleur’s posture relaxed, and she flashed a smile before turning to face her mother. “We’ve been seeing each other since just after the Second Task, Maman.”
Katarina snorted, drawing the ire of both Fleur and Apolline. “So that wasn’t your first date that caused all that drama, back in November? In this very restaurant?” Fleur blushed adorably, but before she could say anything, Gabby chimed in.
“And you went to the Yule Ball together.”
“As friends,” Fleur growled.
“Do friends usually kiss after going to a dance together?” Katarina countered.
“Okay, I think that’s enough embarrassing Fleur for now, girls,” Henri interjected, but his smile practically glittered with affection for the banter. “But I am so happy to see my daughter so taken with someone. You must be quite the charmer, Hermione.”
Hermione had never really thought of herself as someone possessing any amount of charm. She supposed if “messy muggle lesbian who knows too much” really appealed to someone, Hermione Granger would be the epitome of charming, just by being herself. The thought made her turn a fond gaze upon her girlfriend.
“What are you thinking?” Fleur asked softly, just for the two of them. Around them, the rest of the family conversed easily. Most of them, anyway.
Hermione cracked a wide grin. “You find me charming.”
Fleur blushed again, then narrowed her eyes. “Have you really not recognized this fact until now? You are the most charming mess of a woman I have ever met.”
Hermione couldn’t help but giggle, but any further affection banter was cut short by Henri asking Hermione for a recommendation from the menu. Before long, the entire table had ordered their meals. Katarina and Gabby seemed more than happy to whisper to each other while Henri made the most of his opportunity to get to know his oldest daughter’s new partner.
And speaking of charm, Henri Delacour had it in spades. He was at once both the goofiest and most enchanting man Hermione had ever met. As the lunch was served and the table’s occupants began to eat, he conducted the conversation masterfully. Hermione found herself relaying details of her life with shocking ease, managing even to discuss her no longer quite so fraught relationship with her mother even as she continued to fidget under the shrewd observation of Fleur’s own mother.
Apolline contributed to the conversation, but her questions were much more pointed. How old was Hermione? How many more years of school did she have? How did she feel, dating an older girl who was competing against her best friend in such a prestigious competition? Hermione managed to answer each question without embarrassing herself too badly, and always with a save from either Fleur or Henri. But it was becoming very clear that both Fleur’s and Apolline’s frustrations with each other and the situation were like a volatile potion on the verge of boiling forth from the bounds of the cauldron. What sort of damage that would wreak, Hermione could not imagine.
Somehow, the oddest turn of the conversation came as everyone was nearly finished with their meals. Hermione was discussing her friends with Henri, which included input from the other girls about their own impressions of said friends. Fleur and Hermione were sharing fond anecdotes of the respective eccentricities of Luna and Dobby when suddenly Gabby interrupted with a question that took Hermione by surprise.
“What is S.P.E.W.?” she inquired, teasing out the last word like she found it equally confusing and off-putting.
Hermione blinked several times and then her mouth gasped out a guileless, “What?”
“The Society for the Prom . . . moteeon of Elvish Welfare,” Gabby answered, brow furrowing at her inability to say the stupid English word. “I saw it on a badge in Ginny’s bag.”
“Oh.” Hermione’s brain started to catch up. She hadn’t thought about the S.P.E.W. badges much over the last year. They were a naïve solution to a problem that teenage Hermione couldn’t quite wrap her big brain around back then. Back now, she reminded herself wryly. At the time, she hadn’t comprehended the truly labyrinthine nature of the systemic oppression facing the elves in magical Britain. In truth, she had only begun to parse out the insidious nature of the bigotry ingrained into their society after discussing with Fleur how different things were in magical France.
Fleur squeezed her hand, and they shared a smile. The memories of their conversations on this topic sprung to mind. Hermione had, of course, mentioned to Fleur her misguiding attempts at juvenile activism, and while there were more pressing issues facing the couple, she knew that Fleur felt just as passionately as she did about championing non-human rights once the threat of Voldemort had passed.
“Well,” Hermione began, eyes fixed on Gabrielle before she could let herself get intimidated by Apolline again, “the elves in magical Britain face tremendous hardship and bigotry. I only began to find out about it at the beginning of the school year, when I found out that Hogwarts—” she paused, pondering how to describe the living conditions of the elves in a way that was understandable to a young child, “—forces a lot of elves to make all of our meals at the castle, and to clean the whole castle and perform other tedious tasks, without payment or thanks.”
The air grew charged around Hermione, and while Gabby continued to look curious, everyone else presented various expressions of outrage, horror, or both. Katarina was the first to break the silence.
“You mean they work against their will?”
“Not exactly,” Hermione answered, hesitantly. She didn’t know how comfortable she felt discussing such a horrifying subject with Gabrielle at the table. On top of that, there was so much else going on that some part of her felt like this wasn’t the time or the place for this conversation. But there was no avoiding it now, and Hermione refused to back down from the truth. “It is actually so much worse than that. They are—”
“Brainwashed to believe that they are lesser beings,” Apolline finished, interrupting Hermione in a tone so fierce it almost gave her gooseflesh.
“Yes,” she confirmed, while at the same time Fleur faced her mother and hissed, “You knew?!”
For the first time since Hermione had officially met the woman, Apolline’s frigid exterior thawed a bit. “Of course I know, ma belle. This has long been a point of . . . disagreement,” she spat the word out like it tasted foul, “between the various Ministries of Magical Europe. It is one of the most infuriating parts of my position with the Ministry.”
Then Apolline’s attention returned to Hermione. “It is a pleasant surprise to hear that the English moldu have a much more enlightened perspective on non-human rights than the magical pure-bloods in this awful country.” Cracking a wry smirk, she added, “Though perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised. My Fleur wouldn’t want anything to do with someone so comfortable with casual bigotry.”
A small smile broke across Hermione’s lips. Maybe having a relationship with her girlfriend’s mum wasn’t completely out of the question after all. “That’s what I want to do, after I graduate,” she explained, but stumbled at the sight of Apolline’s raised brow. “Advocate for change, I mean. For non-humans. And mold—er, muggles. Sorry, Fleur, the French word still feels weird to me.”
For a long moment, Apolline studied her, then hummed nonchalantly. “A bold choice, and not one for the faint of heart.”
“That’s my lioness,” Fleur responded dreamily. “She is a bold one.”
Hermione bent over to hide her now bright red face, drawing a pleased chuckle from both Fleur and Henri. Fleur’s words set her veins alight with pride and affection, but even so, she didn’t dare chance a look to see how Apolline reacted to them. Fortunately, Gabby chose this moment to break the tension.
“Gross,” she chided her sister, much to everyone’s amusement. “So, the English wizards treat the elves badly in this country? And this SPEW—” again, the word was pronounced with a mocking sort of melody, “—is supposed to make everything better?”
“That was the idea, I s’pose.” Hermione grimaced. “I was much more naïve when I came up with it. And you’re right, the acronym isn’t exactly inspiring. Still, I guess I couldn’t stop myself from doing something, anything. When you find out horrible things are happening where you live, how can you not stand up and say something?”
Before anyone could comment further, their waitress arrived at the table with the bill, which Apolline took almost as an afterthought. Hermione considered whether to offer to contribute to paying for the meal, but Fleur stopped her with a soft shake of her head. She guessed it was probably a point of pride. Whether that was because Apolline was French, wealthy, or just veela, Hermione wasn’t sure.
After summoning the appropriate amount of coins—wandlessly and wordlessly, much to Hermione’s amazement and delight—Apolline stood. As the rest of the party followed suit, she spoke again. “For now, the final Task should be your focus, Fleur.” She locked eyes with her daughter, and Hermione couldn’t decipher the look that passed between them. Then Apolline was off, leading everyone out of the restaurant like nothing was amiss.
As her little group of friends and family made their way to the Great Hall for the evening feast, Hailey excused herself. She had told everyone that she was meeting up with Hermione for one last strategy session, which was technically true. When Ginny and, more surprisingly, Ron offered to accompany her, things had gotten just a little awkward. Neither of them had been much involved in Hailey’s “preparation” for the Third Task, but Ginny was her girlfriend, and Ron had been making an effort to be a better friend the last few months. After stumbling over herself for a good minute, she finally landed on the excuse that she didn’t want to ruin the surprise of what they had planned, and fortunately, no one pushed her any further on the issue.
Afterwards, she practically ran to the Reading Room, where Dobby, Fleur, and Hermione were already waiting. Two small sofas faced each other a good distance from the heat of the room’s fireplace. On one were the two witches, and on the other sat Dobby, looking impossibly small in the center of the two cushions. To his right, the Sword of Gryffindor rested, gleaming, atop Hailey’s invisibility cloak.
”Hailey!” Hermione beamed, and she leapt up. Her arms were around Hailey before she could take more than two steps into the room. Not for the first time that day, Hailey found herself noticing how safe she felt in someone else’s arms. As Hermione pulled away, she asked, “How did everything go?”
“I’m getting adopted! And I’m never going back to those horrid people ever again!” Hailey was too excited to feel bashful about practically shouting at her friends.
Forgetting for a moment the life-threatening peril they would be facing that night, the other three cheered and clapped for Hailey without reservation. Dobby and Fleur were still seated on two small sofas facing each other across a small table, and Hailey flopped down next to Dobby while Hermione took her place across from them next to Fleur. Slipping her hand into Fleur’s, Hermione pressed for more information. “From what I could tell, Sirius seemed pretty pleased to learn that he’s about to have a teenage daughter. Did you tell anyone else?”
Hailey blushed, remembering Hermione’s brief appearance in the common room. “Umm, I told Remus too. I think they’re kinda like my two gay dads now?”
Fleur snorted in laughter at this, while Dobby gawked at Hailey in confusion. Hailey explained that gay was when two men had romantic feelings for each other or two women, like Fleur and Hermione. Fortunately, Dobby was already familiar enough with the basic structure of English human families to understand what Hailey was saying about them becoming her dads. Hailey felt like she might explode from the happiness of just talking about it.
“And how was Molly?” Hermione questioned cautiously.
That soured Hailey’s perfect mood just a little. Not long after Hermione made her hasty exit from Bill’s awkward questions about her love life, Ginny showed up, followed not long thereafter by Ron, Fred, and George. Rather than wait for the twins to break the news, Ginny had rushed over as Hailey got Sirius to put her down and greeted her girlfriend with a brash kiss on the cheek. She had then taken Hailey’s hand and turned to face her mother, as if daring her to comment.
“She was excited, of course. They all were, though I could tell Sirius and Remus were worried about all the times she misgendered me. And we both got some more teasing from the twins.” Hailey shrugged. “But it was mostly okay. Ginny, Sirius, and Remus know the truth about me, and they’re fine with it, so—”
“They better be more than just fine with it,” Fleur admonished. “Or once we finish with Voldemort, ‘Ermione and I will fight them next. And the Weasleys, if it is necessary.”
And just like, the four of them sobered up. All their plotting and planning would end tonight, one way or another. Hailey knew that her part in the plan was small, and at some point, she had accepted that she didn’t have to face off against Voldemort herself. She had made her choice, and she was not the Boy Who Lived. In some other timeline, a closeted girl named Harry Potter had chosen the world over herself, martyring herself on the altar of destiny before she could ever face any of the difficult questions about who she was and what she wanted in life. And it had all been for naught, in the end.
Not this time. Hailey Potter knew who she was and what she wanted. And she didn’t have to face her destiny alone.
Maybe it felt odd for there to be big scary things happening at the end of the school year and not being a central part of it, but Hailey honestly didn’t regret it. She appreciated feeling so protected and cared for, and that was really special to her. It wasn’t something she ever felt before Hermione came back in time. While she worried about Hermione, Fleur, and Dobby, she believed in them. They were all powerful magical beings, and they would look out for each other.
Voldemort didn’t stand a chance.
“Are we ready for this?” Dobby squeaked, trembling slightly like he was already energized for the fight ahead. The others nodded, and as Fleur and Hermione stood to leave, Hailey found herself in awe of them. Fleur was in her tournament attire, a black outfit almost identical to what she wore when facing down her dragon, her wand strapped snugly into the holster on her right thigh. Hermione was also in black, wearing a thin hoodie and a functional, but distinctively muggle pair of trousers, tucked into a pair of Doc Martens. In the glow of the firelight, they looked determined and dangerous.
“Let’s get this bastard,” Hermione snarled, and her ferocity inspired Hailey even more. She would follow her big sister into any and every battle ahead of them. Of that, she had zero doubt.