Chapter Text
Hermione stumbled into the darkened building she’d once called home. The stillness of the house was a painful reminder of all she’d sacrificed and its importance. Her back rested against the nearby wall as her knees gave out, sliding down until she sat on the ground.
The house felt cold.
Empty.
It felt fitting considering how much her heart twisted and ached inside her chest. She wanted to rage or scream, or both, but found her throat too constricted for either option.
She had no fight left. Not anymore. Because of him.
Six years of friendship. Countless hours of conversation. Far too many fights and grudging acceptance of apologies between them. This is how their friendship ends. A loud, angry dismissal of her feelings and their shared history.
One night.
A single instance of desperation and the need to connect. Just for him to run from the consequences and blame her.
Some part of her knew he would do this. Despite what the world thought of their unbreakable friendship, Hermione knew she would never be more than an object to him.
She wanted to hate him, but she couldn’t dredge up any emotions at all. Her world, her life, irrevocably changed because of that single night. Now, she had to pick up the pieces of her life. Alone.
A knock at the door startled a frozen Hermione. She had no idea who it was and didn’t want to risk opening it. Not after Ron’s accusations. His furious, angry red face flashed in her mind, making her tremble.
The knock sounded again. This time with more force and a hint of impatience. She didn’t move. Hermione lived in a Muggle neighborhood, and it gave her some respite from the worry that someone was there to harm her. It would set off alarms at the Ministry if they were trying to hurt her.
Another knock. It rang loudly in the empty house and echoed down the hall.
“‘Ermione?”
Her body tensed in surprise. That couldn’t be? Could it? Hermione stared at the front door, her brilliant mind unable to comprehend that Fleur Delacour was on the other side. Maybe she was asleep, and it was some kind of hallucination.
“Please, can you open the door?”
Fleur’s voice was gentle instead of the haughty tone she was used to. A tint of fear in her words finally drove Hermione to her feet. She couldn’t understand why Fleur was at her door or why the worry in her voice made her move, but she did.
Her fingers wrapped around the cool metal of the doorknob as she twisted it to open the door.
Fleur stood on the other side looking haggard. The sun glinted as it disappeared over the horizon and cast shadows across Fleur’s concerned face. Dark blue eyes swept over her as if determining Hermione was okay. Fleur’s pristine silvery-blonde hair seemed to swirl in a breeze she couldn’t see or feel.
“Fleur?” Hermione forced out. Her throat was dry and raw from crying earlier in the day.
“May I come in?” Fleur asked.
Hermione frowned but stepped aside to let the older woman in. The door clicked shut in the silence. Neither moved nor spoke as they stood in the darkened house.
“Why are you here?” The question left her lips before Hermione could think of stopping them. Her shoulders sagged along with her words as the stress of the day caught up with her.
“I—” Fleur began before her mouth snapped shut. She blew out a breath as she leaned against the same wall Hermione had been using. “I wanted to check on you.”
The soft admission caught her off guard. Not just from the quiet, pain-filled way Fleur spoke those words but from the sheer relief that someone cared enough to check on her. Tears filled her eyes, and it didn’t matter that they’d only ever had heated discussions or spent more time snarking at each other than talking. Fleur was here and Hermione didn’t know what to make of it.
Overwhelmed, Hermione couldn’t stop her tears from falling. Her shoulder shook; her eyes stung from the tears she thought she’d cried out hours ago. Warm arms wrapped around her shoulders as the scent of sandalwood and roses surrounded her. She clung to Fleur as she tried to keep from falling in sheer despondency.
Her best friend had shattered her world, and she couldn’t understand how it all had gone so wrong. Hermione just held on tighter to Fleur, who whispered calm words against the top of her head. She had a moment to appreciate Fleur’s height, and safety in the arms of someone who wasn’t quite a friend but more of a friendly rival. Someone who showed more compassion than the person she’d considered her best friend.
Unable to speak, she let Fleur hold her, crying out years of pain. It didn’t help that her emotions were all over the place. Hermione was guided to a wonderfully soft couch that was certainly not hers since she’d gotten rid of the furniture. Her analytical mind was trapped, her thoughts a hurricane inside a pinball machine.
“Do you need some water?” Fleur asked.
Hermione sniffled, her fingers rubbing her throbbing head. She curled against Fleur’s side, feeling a bit ridiculous. Words were too hard and she nodded instead. Fleur used magic to summon her a glass of water, and she took it with a grateful smile.
It should feel weird to be curled against anyone. Hermione wasn’t a tactile person and only hugged those she felt comfortable with. But with everything going on, the need for comfort far outweighed her hesitation about personal space and touch. She sipped from the glass as they remained silent.
“Why did you come check on me?” Hermione asked.
For once, Hermione wasn’t concerned about time. She had nothing to look forward to and too caught up in her emotions that time seemed irrelevant.
Fleur sighed. A heavy sound that made her wonder just what Ron had done after their talk.
“I went by the Burrow to pick up something for Tonks,” Fleur said. “Most of the family was out, and I wasn’t looking forward to talking to Molly, but…” Silence hung in the air. “I didn’t hear everything or much of anything, but I knew enough to come check on you. As part of the Order, most of us have been assigned to keep an eye on you and your parents. It’s how I knew where to find you.”
Hermione let the words settle. Whatever Fleur heard from the Burrow led her back to Hermione. Alone, desperate, a failure. Shame, regret, and anger roiled in her upset stomach.
“I’m pregnant.”
The words cut like glass as they escaped her lips like a confession. Charged with emotions that drove her to the dark desolation of her childhood home. Devoid of the parents she loved and the memories of a loving family. Adrift between the worlds of childhood and adulthood.
“Ron’s?”
Hermione snickered at the derisive way that Fleur said his name. Her lips tilted up in a slight smile as Fleur just shrugged.
“Yes, sadly.”
“He didn’t take it well?”
A pointless question, but Hermione appreciated Fleur giving her time to explain for herself what happened. Her smile faded as her chest constricted.
“He called me a manipulative slut who is trying to baby trap him in the middle of a war because no one else would ever want to be with me because I’m a self-righteous know it all.”
Hermione’s words came out flat, devoid of emotion. Just like she would if she were quoting a book she didn’t care about. When Ron had spoken to her, it wasn’t with kindness but red-faced anger and hatred. The words had shattered her, and she felt like the eleven-year-old version of herself that had cried in a bathroom only to be saved from a troll. All their time together flashed through her mind. Once happy memories faded to gray.
The crack of her hand broke her free from years of recollection. Ron clutched his face, mouth open in surprise as her hand stung.
‘One day, Ronald, you’ll look back on this moment and remember this with the shame and disgust that I feel now. You will understand that you destroyed years of friendship over your inability to accept that actions have consequences.’
Hermione growled out the words through her tight throat. Her eyes were full of disgust and hatred as she left him standing there clutching his cheek.
Fleur seemed to explode from the couch, while her hands moved in irritation as she slipped into her native tongue. Stunned, Hermione watched Fleur lose her temper for the first time. Her brows drawn together, blue eyes dark with rage, and the unending stream of French curse words. As her gaze followed Fleur’s erratic movements, her lips tilted in a soft smile. The immediate defense of her character from Fleur was endearing and painted a sad picture of her life.
Fleur came here to help Hermione. Not Harry, Ginny, or anyone else. She had no idea how the others would react. Ginny was Ron’s sister, and the Weasley family seemed close. Harry had always been closer to Ron than to her. In part because they were both boys and shared a dorm, but because Ron leaned into Harry’s worst attributes. It felt good to have someone care enough about her to be upset.
“What do you want to do?” Fleur’s question snapped Hermione out of her thoughts.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, do I need to take you to see a healer?”
The sincerity in Fleur’s voice was too much, and Hermione sobbed, again. Fleur rushed over, apologizing, but Hermione waved it off.
“I already went,” Hermione said through tears. “A-As a M-Muggleborn, I need the father’s permission to…” She trailed off, unable to admit she’d gone to do just that.
Fleur’s soft hands cupped her face to gently tug her eyes up. Dark blue eyes swirled with understanding. No pity. But flecks of respect could be seen.
“‘Ermione.”
The way Fleur said her name made her want to cry, and she was tired of crying.
“What do you need?”
This time she thought about the question. It was a pressing matter she couldn’t run from.
“My parents,” Hermione admitted. “For there not to be a war going on. To not have to run off finding horcruxes with Ron and Harry because Dumbledore left us, three teenagers, to end the war. I need money. I’ve already sold the house and have nowhere to go because Ron told me not to come to the Burrow. I need to know my rights in case his family tries to take this baby. I-I need a time turner to go back to last month and stop this!” Hermione yelled as tears fell.
She didn’t know who would be on her side or what Ron would do in the meantime.
“How can I stop them?” Hermione questioned. “If I can’t make a medical decision as a Muggleborn, how can I stop them from taking this baby? I’ve always wanted children just not at seventeen and during a war, but…even if the father is an asshole, it’s my child. There is no way I’m running off on a blind search pregnant with the same boy who called me a whore. At least he didn’t call me a gold-digger.”
Fleur snorted and tried to cover her mouth, but it made Hermione chuckle.
“That’s one thing they don’t have,” Fleur said with a smirk. Her eyes glinted with mischief. “How about we tackle one problem at a time?”
“Okay,” Hermione replied. She could do that. Set a plan. “But first you should sit down that can’t be good for your knees.” Hermione pointed to Fleur’s kneeling position.
“It's not but that’s not the point.” Fleur’s grin was wicked, but she got up and retook her seat. “Where are your parents?”
Hermione sighed, guilt welling up in her gut.
“I wiped their memories and sent them to another country because I was afraid of them being killed while I went off to help Harry.”
The answer felt cold to her. A justification for a failure on the side of the light. An admission that Hermione didn’t trust the Order to protect her parents while she fought to stop a war meant to enslave them.
“That’s brave and terrifying,” Fleur said. “I understand missing family because I’ve been here fighting this war, but what you did is brave.”
“Gryffindor.”
“You have always been more than just a Gryffindor. More than just a know-it-all. And way more than Harry and Ron’s friend. We will inform the Order of the mission, and I don’t care what Dumbledore told you to do. What’s the point of not telling the people meant to help?”
“Harry won’t like it, but you’re right,” Hermione sighed.
“As for everything else, I have an idea, but you’re going to think it’s crazy,” Fleur admitted.
“Crazier than getting pregnant by my ex-best friend who turned on me?”
“Oui. Marry me.”
Hermione blinked. She stared at Fleur, unsure if she’d heard her correctly.
“Did you just ask me to marry you?”
The words sounded strange coming out of her mouth.
“Oui.”
Fleur held her gaze, eyes full of determination. All she could do was laugh. The hysterical kind that happens when your emotions have been through the ringer. Her body shook before she doubled over in tears.
“I told you it was crazy,” Fleur groaned as she hugged Hermione. “You just need to breathe.”
“Why would you marry me?” The word came out harsh, full of disdain. She shook her head, unable to grasp Fleur’s logic. “We don’t even know each other.”
“Because it’s the answer to all your problems and I’m a much better option than Ronald Weasley.”
“How does that answer my problems?”
Fleur grinned.
“What do you know about me?”
“Not a lot, you’re a Curse Breaker and a Veela,” Hermione admitted.
“‘Ermione, the name Delacour, means something in the wider world. My father is the owner of the largest magical company in Europe. My mother was a Ministry official before she took her place as the head of the French Veela clan as well being on the Veelan High Council. I’m heir to two legacies and am one of the youngest top curse breakers in the history of Gringotts. My family is rich. If you marry me, not only do you have access to the Delacour vaults, but if we soul bond, you’ll have a clan of Veela to protect you. The soul bond also guarantees that I will be named as the other parent, and if they are born in France, the Weasley will have to petition French courts for custody. Who will refer it to the Veela clans for judgment which would make the family take the trials to determine the validity of such a claim. With me, you won’t ever be alone again. I’ll be there every step of the way. When it comes to feeding, bathing, playing, and loving this child as a partner. No one will take the baby from you if we get married.”
“Wouldn’t a soul bond be permanent? How…”
Fleur grinned.
“Even though we don’t know each other, I know that you can feel the same pull whenever we argue. The understanding that you don’t have to pull back or dumb things down because you know I’ll understand. You don’t have to hide how smart you are to save someone’s feelings. I think, with time, we’ll become best friends, and they always say to marry your best friend.”
“It’s insane,” Hermione let out. “No one would believe you’d marry me.”
“Why not?” Fleur demanded, offended on her behalf. It was cute. “We are both intelligent. Beautiful. Who cares about what other people think about us? I’ve never lived my life by others' expectations, and I won’t start now. I’d be proud to marry you. To raise a child together.”
“I would be a gold digger if we got married,” Hermione mumbled.
Fleur groaned, cupping Hermione’s face again.
“‘Ermione. You are not a gold digger. You’re a powerful witch who will make her own path and money when this war ends. Until then, I will protect and support both of you.”
“Yes.”
The word came out before she could stop it. Before she could talk herself out of it. It wasn’t about money since she’d never been materialistic. Her decision was based on one simple fact.
Fleur cared.
A woman who offered to protect her in a way that no one she’d met in the wizarding world had. She could have said no. Hermione would be able to find a way to raise a baby and finish the war, but she didn’t have to. Fleur was right. Even in their heated discussions, she’d always felt energized after them. They might have already been best friends in other circumstances.
“You will?” The hope in Fleur’s voice surprised her.
“I can’t think of anyone else who would be better than you to raise a child with.”
Her admission felt like the last chain of her past was slipping away. It wasn’t an end but a beginning. She’d seen the patient way Fleur had treated her younger sister while at Hogwarts and the fierce need to protect her during the second task. Despite Fleur’s haughty and cold demeanor, she showed warmth to those she loved.
Tears pooled in Fleur’s eyes like Hermione had given her a gift and not the other way around.
“We’re going to be amazing parents,” Fleur agreed. “For now, let’s head to my flat I’ve got a spare room you can stay in until we figure everything out.”
Fleur stood up, hand held out to her. Hermione took it and knew she’d made the right decision.
She was going to marry Fleur Delacour, and they were going to be a family.