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Chapter Text

Hermione knocked on the door. A far simpler design than the one that was used by the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Another change. The response came not a second later as Hermione opened the door to enter the office. It was painted in a shade of blue that wasn’t quite the same as the school, darker, but still a comforting color. Only two paintings hung on the wall, the inscriptions read that it was one for the first Headmaster of Beauxbatons and the other was the previous headmaster. Madame Maxime sat like a queen in her large wooden chair that was carved with intricate designs.   

She walked into the office with her head held high, no sign of nerves. Even if Hermione didn’t live in the spotlight, she had learned, thanks to Hannah, how to operate in the world when you were relatively famous. It was a struggle at first but once it was explained why she handled it better. Still, despite her short training and experience, she felt unsure of herself in front of the Headmistress. A woman who was highly regarded for her progressive views on teaching and her acceptance of anyone, no matter what being they were.   

‘Miss Granger, thank you for coming on such short notice,’ Maxime said with a practiced smile. Hermione knew it was a professional smile.   

‘I appreciate you getting back to me after my letter,’ Hermione replied with a nod of her head. She took the offered seat. A rather comfortable wooden chair with black cushions.   

‘I must say, I was very surprised to hear from you.’  

‘I’m sure it would surprise many to hear that I was hoping to teach here instead of at Hogwarts.’  

Maxime nodded, a folder on her desk that she looked down at.   

‘Miss Granger, my first instinct was to reach out to your former professors and the current Headmistress of Hogwarts,’ she began, then held up her hand before Hermione could speak. ‘I was cautioned against such an endeavor. There is little to no information on you since you disappeared after the war. I sent out feelers to see if anyone had. When it came back without a word to say, I knew that there were reasons you’ve chosen not to be found. I’ll respect that. Your talent isn’t in question. No matter where you go in the world, your name is synonymous with being the brains of the Golden Trio, whether or not you agree with it. You went through the Outreach Program at Beauxbatons and completed your N.E.W.T. level exams with some of the highest marks seen at my school despite a year and a half of not being in school. Then you took the certification classes, and I’ve received glowing remarks from the professors who taught you. The position is yours if you are so inclined to take it, but my only concern would be the safety of you and the students.’  

Hermione nodded.  

‘I do have a solution. One I’ve thought over long and hard in case that might be an issue,’ Hermione stated.   

‘Please, let me know.’  

‘I would like to ward my position as Ancient Runes professor so that anyone who hasn’t seen me here can’t be told my name. That wouldn’t include you, Headmistress, for the legal side of things. It would keep myself and the students safe from anyone who might want to retaliate for my position in the war.’  

Maxime nodded her head.   

‘Then I believe it would be good for you to work here. Professor Rowley is prepared to retire, and I wasn’t sure we’d be able to fill the position in time. He will, of course, stay on throughout the summer so that you can acclimate yourself and have someone to support you before you step into the roll. I expect lesson plans ready before the term starts.’  

‘I would very much appreciate his help,’ Hermione said with a slight smile. One that didn’t reach her eyes. It looked almost reflexive at this point.   

‘Miss Granger, I have one question.’  

‘Of course.’  

‘Why did you choose Beauxbatons? I know there are other schools who would take you as well.’  

Hermione looked away from the piercing gaze of her new employer. She took in the bookshelves, a cauldron bubbling, and the interested eyes of the two portraits on the wall.  

‘It’s no secret that I went through a lot during the war,’ Hermione started. ‘By the end, I didn’t have a way forward. I’m still not sure what the way forward is but the one thing I know is that I need to find that. It just happened that a former student of yours saved my life once and she always said this place was magical. I’m hoping that I’ll be able to find some of the magic again.’  

‘Miss Delacour found the best in everything,’ Maxime replied, a fond smile on her face. ‘One of my best students, although her sister is shaping up to be like her in a lot of ways.’  

‘Well, she never did ‘find the best’ in Hogwarts,’ Hermione reminded her.  

Maxime chuckled.  

‘No, I don’t think she ever did. Welcome to Beauxbatons, Miss Granger. I hope you find the same magic that we all have here.’  

Hermione woke with a gasp. Not because the dream was terrifying but because it was a reminder of what was to come. Maxime had informed her of her decision to hire Fleur for the newly opened Charms position. Which just happened to be the classroom next to her own. Hermione just nodded, not saying much about the subject.   

Since she’d started at Beauxbatons six years ago, Hermione found that she quite enjoyed being a professor. Her first year had been rocky, not because of the students, it had been one student. Gabrielle Delacour. The first time she saw the girl, she had a panic attack. Gabi, as she demanded to be called, looked so much like Fleur that Hermione couldn’t seem to separate the two. Her body would lock up and it forced her to be cold and distant. Each time she looked at Gabi she was hit with those memories. The whisper of the voice of a woman long since dead but the echoes remained. The struggle had led her to distance herself from her new colleagues as well.   

Cassie Allred, the Muggle Studies Professor, attempted to flirt with her and asked her to help in her class. Hermione wouldn’t have minded helping, but she couldn’t stand Cassie’s need to touch her. She declined helping and used her own busy schedule as an excuse. Maxwell Lambert came next. He had walked up to her, chest puffed out, and charming smile on his face. The moment he talked Hermione almost hexed him. She found him vain, egotistical, and sexist. Anytime he came near her, she’d stop whatever she was doing and leave. She had to use several well-placed hexes for the point to get across.   

She had a few discussions with Maxime during those first two years when her temper flared too easily and magic was her shield. Maxime helped the professors to give her the space she needed. It helped her ease into the position better, and the students were always respectful. By the time Gabi started her final year, Hermione had apologized for her icy demeanor and explained how difficult it was to separate Gabi from Fleur. The young woman had smiled and waved her off. She understood Hermione couldn’t help something like that. Her smile had turned sad as she explained that the war often triggered her own sister to this day.  

Today was the day she would see Fleur for the first time in seven years. The idea of seeing Fleur was enough to terrify her all over again. She hoped that these last few years had softened her responses to seeing people from her teenage years. Neville had made a stop to check on the gardens. He came by with a bright smile and news from Hannah. They’d chatted easily, and Neville admitted he’d already spoken to Fleur earlier in the day.   

“Are you alright?” He asked with that soft, caring smile that made her feel safe.   

“I’m not sure,” Hermione admitted. “You know how I reacted to Gabi.”   

“That was four years ago. You’ve come a long way during that time. Besides, Fleur would never cross the line.”  

Hermione shrugged. She knew Neville kept in contact with Fleur over the years. He'd been the one to inform her of the divorce. It was the only time Neville gave her news of anyone. She never understood why he did, but he just gave some vague reason about Luna saying it would cleanse her soul. Whatever that meant.   

She went through her usual habit of checking her classroom before the term began. Her classroom was clear of clutter, and it took three years for her to get it just right. The large clock on the wall was a special piece she worked on herself. Roman numerals with gears exposed, with several crystals embedded in the clock face. It wasn’t just a clock, but a rather complex piece of magic. Inside, it contained several runes that she had carefully designed to balance together. It gave her a warning if someone meant her harm and placed a rather complex ward around her office. The desks she had arranged in a semi-circle around the low table where she kept the runes she would work on throughout the year. She preferred the students to see everything and feel a part of the work.   

Around noon, she received a few gifts from Neville, Hannah, and Luna. They started it when they learned of her new teaching position. A habit they all had when they started a new job. Luna sent her an advanced copy of her new book. Neville refused to send her plants anymore but sent her some new stones for her rune work. Hannah, always the outlier, gave Hermione things she didn’t know she needed. This year was a calendar that had random information scrawled in the margins.   

Hermione changed into her usual attire. Black slacks under a crisp white shirt. She shrugged on her powder blue professor robes and looked in the mirror. It still surprised her sometimes when she looked at herself. Gone was the young girl she’d been. The one who tried not to take up space and only used her voice when she felt it was necessary. Her time as a professor had given her the confidence she lacked in her younger years. Here, they celebrated her intelligence. The students listened with rapt attention and took her words seriously. She’d braided her hair, a habit she picked up during her year away from the world. Lorainne, a rather eccentric witch, had pulled Hermione out of her despair with a wide grin and large green eyes. She’d taunted and teased Hermione into arguments to help her burn off the excess power that built in her system. Lorainne spent that year teaching Hermione true magic. The way it lived in her veins and how it connected with the outside world. Her connection had grown over the years with careful practice and patience.   

She let her magic twine along the lines and protections built into the Chateau Beauxbatons. It was often used to ground her in the moment. The magic pulsed under her skin, which gave her the small push to face the one person she never thought she would see again.   

Her feet carried her down the now familiar path towards the dining hall. Hermione once more took the time to appreciate the beauty of Beauxbatons. With its crisp white stone walls, soft, colorful carpets, and the gentle pulse of being seen. She never tired of returning to Beauxbatons. It felt more like home than Hogwarts had. Here she wasn’t Ron and Harry’s best friend. She was Professor Granger, a favorite among the students, and she just happened to be a war hero. From her first year, when the war was taught during History of Magic, Hermione would take that day to talk to her students. Not about the horrors she faced but about what the battle meant to her. She’d sit on the edge of her desk, eyes sharp as she worked her way through those years. The pain and fear that the population felt. How her friendship brought her to the center of the war with nowhere to go but forward. The first time she’d talked, it had been stuttered and stumbled over until she found her way forward. Now, those students didn’t hero worship her. They leaned closer not because it was fascinating but because she told them the truth.   

As she stepped into the dining hall, she let herself fall into her normal professional attitude. Her eyes glinted as they moved across the hall just to appreciate the beauty. The gorgeous white stone walls and the way it seemed to glow in the setting sun. Several circular tables that were designated by year with white gold plates and silver glasses. It never ceased to stun her. While it was beautiful, it was the anticipation that hung in the air. Full of life and excitement. Joy for being at school. This wasn’t just a dining hall. It was her future. A future that held possibilities she never knew she had. A reminder of the pain she’d left behind in search of the magic she once held as a child. She found it here, among the students in France.   

Her magic rolled through the halls with no prompting. She felt the eyes of her fellow professors almost as soon as she walked in. Hermione didn’t bother showing up there often, but she made it a point for the first day. It wasn’t until her magic hit thrall that Hermione remembered just who was in the dining hall. She’d dealt enough with the Veela teenager’s thrall, but it felt nothing like Fleur’s. It bucked under the momentary brush, and it sent a shockwave through her. The magic felt familiar and new. A shudder rippled through the thrall and into her magic which had her head turning before she could stop it.  

Amber eyes clashed with blue.   

Surprise. Happiness. Concern. Fear. Lust. Worry. Acceptance rolled over her like a tidal wave.   

Fleur was stunning.   

Which was all she could seem to focus on. She’d matured in the years since they’d last seen each other. Her long, silvery blonde hair pulled into a tight ponytail that only accented her striking face. Dark blue eyes that seemed to hold her captive watched her with a mixture of emotions.   

Hermione waited for the moment it would hit her that Fleur was in front of her, but it never came. No whispers in the back of her mind. Just Fleur. Her magic had recoiled into her the moment she understood Fleur’s thrall was interacting with her own. That they did that scared Hermione more than she was willing to admit. She couldn’t afford to dig into why it happened, but Fleur was much stronger than she expected.   

As she crossed along the side of the table, their connection snapped, and Hermione drew in a deep breath. Fleur was well and truly here. Which meant she was seated right next to Hermione. A placement like their classrooms. Hermione settled into her seat.  

A part of her wanted to say something, but she wasn’t sure she could open that door. They were strangers with a brief history. She knew through Neville and Hannah that Fleur’s involvement in saving her life never surfaced in the many discussions about the war. It made her grateful that no one knew just what happened during her time at Shell Cottage. This was the same woman who spent days keeping her alive at the temporary cost of her own magic. She never complained. It was the first time Hermione saw Fleur. Not just as Bill’s wife or the harpy that Molly would often call her. She got to see the healer. Each comforting touch, the soft brush of fingers against her fevered forehead, and the gentle words spoken in the dark. Fleur put a lot on the line to save her, but she never asked for anything, not even recognition.   

Words threatened to bubble out of her chest with Fleur next to her, but the entrance of Maxime stopped her. Hermione felt a bit of nostalgia wash over her when she stood. She could still remember how the delegation from Beauxbatons stood when Maxime entered the Great Hall. At the time, they thought it was silly, but having spent the last six years inside these walls, she understood. The students and professors didn’t stand up just because Maxime was headmistress. They stood because they respected her. Respected the way she accepted everyone into the walls of her school. The way she allowed professors to find their feet without any hovering and always available to whoever might need her.   

Hermione held that same respect for Maxime. The same woman who gave Neville emergency floo access because Hermione struggled with her past. She never pushed Hermione to explain anything and always let her have the space she needed.   

As they regained their seats, dinner was finally served. Hermione picked up her fork to enjoy the divine dinner that the house-elves worked on when she noticed something. Fleur, who was silent and excited, had reached for a bowl of strawberries that appeared next to her plate. She looked at the young Veela students, who all held similar bowls of strawberries in their hands. Many of them devoured theirs despite the main meal waiting for them. Hermione was struck by the realization that every Veela student was eating them. Fleur seemed content and lost in her own little world as she ate her own, a soft hum under her breath like it was a treat she didn’t get often enough. The sheer joy on their faces was a sight to see.  

Hermione found their enjoyment magical in its own way. Fleur looked much younger at that moment. A flash of the young woman she’d been the first time they’d met. It twisted something in her chest that she remembered from years ago. An emotion she’d long since lost but seemed to grow as she watched in fascination as Fleur turned into a kid with her favorite candy. Her eyes pricked at the sudden onslaught of emotions that the simple gesture produced. Fleur had never looked as beautiful as she did now, and it stole her attention. Her hand hovered over her plate as she paused in her eating just to breathe in the simplicity.   

She’d always known Fleur could draw emotions from her that no one else did, but this felt...special. It was clear that it was common enough among Veela, but she’d never witnessed it. The way those young Veela seemed to vibrate with happiness from the bowl of strawberries was adorable. Added to the fact that Fleur seemed equally happy about her bowl, almost made her swoon. Which was ridiculous, right?   

Fleur’s eyes were locked on the young Veela in the dining hall and didn’t notice that her bowl was running empty. An idea popped into her head as she sent a message to the house-elves with her magic and was rewarded with a smaller bowl of strawberries. She wasn’t ready to speak to Fleur but maybe this small gesture would help. As Fleur ate the last one, a pout trembled on her lips before she noticed Hermione holding a new bowl out to her.   

Hermione enjoyed the look of confusion on Fleur’s face as she followed her hand up to her face. She kept her emotions off her face but couldn’t keep it from showing in other ways. A smile almost broke out when she saw the faintest flush rise on Fleur’s cheeks as she gave a shy smile and nod before taking the offered bowl. The shy way she took the bowl mixed with the joy of having more strawberries stole her breath.   

She could also feel the attention of the professors further down the table. None of them knew about the history she had with Fleur, no matter how brief it might have been. The simple fact that she was making any kind of connection with a fellow professor would be enough to get their attention. Maxime may be the only one who knew they were connected enough for Fleur to be warned she was there.   

Their moment ended, and Hermione shifted her focus back to her dinner. She listened with rapt attention to Fleur’s conversation with Fontaine and Lavigne. It was interesting to hear how Fleur let the teasing slide off her back with little worry. This also gave her a glimpse of the woman she’d shaped up to be. Her voice no longer had the edge of an accent now that she was speaking her native language. It held an edge of playfulness she’d never heard before and the melodic hum to her voice lulled Hermione’s normal anxious nature. She shouldn’t be surprised by the effect Fleur had over her. The woman had always been charming and to hear the relaxed quality of her voice helped her understand Fleur had never felt comfortable in England. Even in her own home.   

There had been a shield around Fleur anytime she was around others. Here, there was no shield. Fleur seemed to weave into Beauxbatons like she’d never left. It was interesting to hear of Fleur’s misadventures in school with her need to learn. She’d seen the brief flashes of it when she’d stayed at Shell Cottage, but didn’t quite grasp it like she was now.   

Hermione maintained her silence but found that she didn’t feel weird about Fleur working alongside her. Even as she spoke to the other professors, she never turned her body to block Hermione’s view. Something that would bother Hermione in any setting. She needed a clear view of the occupants and escape routes. Despite them not speaking, Fleur’s body language was open if Hermione chose to speak. A small gesture to remind Hermione she was seen by Fleur without having to say it out loud.  

Maxime got to her feet when the meal ended, and everyone’s attention shifted to her. Hermione knew what was coming and still felt uneasy about the prospect.  

“Welcome to another year at Beauxbatons,” Maxime said in a calm voice. She didn’t need any spells to be heard or get the attention of her students. “We are pleased to report that after much deliberation we’ve been selected to host the Quidditch tournament this year.” Applause rose from the students, and Fleur frowned.   

Hermione noticed the frown on her face and knew what she was thinking. She spoke before she could think better of it.  

“Multi school competition,” Hermione whispered, catching Fleur off guard. “They figure the Tri-Wizard tournament is too dangerous, so they switched to Quidditch.”  

“Thank goodness for small favors,” Fleur replied. She watched as the tension eased from Fleur’s shoulders and a grateful smile graced her lips. Hermione didn’t fault her for the response at the news. When Maxime had first told her, she felt the same way. Fear.  

“Hogwarts, Ilvermorny, Castleobruxo, Durmstrang, Mahoutokoro, Uagadou, and Koldovstoretz will be joining us this year for the tournament. As a special surprise, we were able to secure agreements from the lesser-known schools. Zakopane and Kebnekaise are the other two schools in Europe . Zhangjiajie in China is their first competition with the other schools. Bendigo from Australia is excited to compete with the rest of the schools. From India we have Nanda Devi. Davao covers southeast Asia. The other two North American schools agreed to join. Tenochtitlan outside Mexico City and Minnewanka in Canada . A few professors will be setting up in all common areas and classrooms translation spells to help ease the transition for students and faculty. Tryouts for the Beauxbatons team will be held at the end of October. Schools will arrive during the first Saturday in November. A total of ten students from each school will attend and the event will be shown at each school. Expect visitors during the matches. I’m also pleased to announce that Miss Delacour has agreed to take up the post of Charms Professor. As always, I expect all my students to act with respect and decorum with all professors. As always, please head out to the grounds for the annual welcome bonfire.”  

Students and professors chatted as they rose from their seats to make their way outside. Hermione remained seated even as Fleur walked past her. Her body remained tense until she had space between herself and the last of the professors. She got to her feet and made her way outside. The night was beautiful. A cool breeze and a sliver of the moon rose in the night. It cast a soft glow over the grounds.  

Hermione paused at the doors, and watched the students as they milled around the prepared firepit. Her eyes drifted to where Fleur approached the fire set up for the staff. The glow of the moon danced off Fleur’s hair, casting a slight glow around her. A soft smile stretched across her lips in the darkness.  

It should be weird, having Fleur among the staff but for the first time since the war ended, Hermione didn’t feel worried about seeing someone from her past. While they had been strangers once before, maybe they could become friends.   

You know I’ll find you. The words whispered in the back of her mind. A voice she’d never been able to shake. A reminder that she was never truly free.   

She fought down her panic.   

I will find you and when I do, I’ll remind you why running away was a bad idea.  

Hermione felt the tremble in her hands just as she saw Maxime light the fire for the students. It burst into life with an array of colors that burned into the shape of a dragon. Her chest ached.   

When you least expect me, that’s where you’ll find me. No one can help you now.  

She shook her head, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her professor robes as she headed toward the staff fire. Her teeth dug into her cheek until it bled. The combination of pain and the taste of blood helped bring her back to the moment.   

Hermione paused when she saw Fleur lift her wand. Her hands moved with grace and precision as the stack of wood burst into flames. A gorgeous falcon rose from the flames arching into the air before it dove into the fire near the students. It burst into a display of beautiful blues, greens, and yellows. At least that was what she could see out of the corner of her eyes because her gaze was fixed on Fleur. The way the lights played across her face and Hermione found herself captured once more by the beauty that was Fleur Delacour.   

She wondered, for the thousandth time, if this would always be her life. Just on the fringe of being a part of something. There was a tension that hung in the air from the moment she locked eyes with Fleur. She had no idea if it was good or bad, but she knew it wasn’t new. Fleur had always brought a tension to her life. A mixture of complex emotions each time she smiled. Even after seven years, Hermione couldn’t escape the feeling that being around Fleur brought out in her.   

As Fleur settled away from the other teachers, long legs stretched towards the fire, Hermione decided she should say something. She moved to where Fleur sat, ignoring the surprised looks she received as she settled next to Fleur. Her whole life she’d spent ignoring the looks people sent her way. The tension she associated with Fleur pulled taunt around her. The unspoken settled between them like a weight that neither could escape. One Hermione had spent years trying to run from.   

Instead, she leaned into the tension. Let it settle across her chest and burrow its way into the defenses she kept up to keep people out. Because no matter what she said or did, she couldn’t run forever, and Fleur was just the first step. She sat next to Fleur and took up space. Space she never felt comfortable taking.   

“It’s good to see you, Fleur,” Hermione said. Her voice was soft, rougher than she meant it to be.  

“It’s good to see you too, ‘Ermione,” Fleur replied. A smirk flickered on her lips when she heard Fleur pronounce her name. It seemed some things didn’t change, and it warmed the emptiness in her heart.   

Who knew what the night would bring.  

Chapter Text

Hermione gripped the edge of her desk as she attempted to draw a shaky breath into her starved lungs. Her body reeled from the burst of emotions. She wasn’t sure what caused the flashback, but it took everything in her not to lose control of her magic.

Look at you, shaking like a scared first year. All that power and you’re still afraid.

She shook her head, chest tight.

Not again.

Not here.

The weight of the past pulled at her with enough force to buckle her knees. Her hangs tightened further on the desk as she fought off the pain in her chest.

You’ll never get rid of me. I’m in your blood, in your magic, in your memories. There is nowhere you can go that I will not find you.

Her hand balled into a fist as she slammed it into her desk. The jolt of pain helped to quiet the voice in her head. It wasn’t the best way to clear her head, and she hadn’t needed it much over the last two years. Hermione sighed before she took her seat behind her desk. She dropped her head into her hands.

There was nothing she could do about the echoes that replayed in her mind. She’d learned that the hard way. Part of her hoped the nightmares wouldn’t come back, but that didn’t happen. Her magic stayed cloaked around her to keep from interacting with Fleur’s Thrall. It took her less than a day to realize that Fleur’s thrall felt...contained. The young Veela she taught felt freer than Fleur. She’d stopped by the classroom on the way to dinner one night to check and felt the surrounding magic. Not a typical spell, but one crafted to dampen Fleur’s thrall.

Fleur’s return to her world had shaken her. Almost like it shook loose the cobwebs that clung to the pain she never spoke about. She should have anticipated it. Prepared better. It was foolish to hope it wouldn’t happen. After all these years, she knew better. Somehow, she managed to hope.

Soft hands cradled her face. It was the softness that made Hermione realize she was not at Malfoy Manor anymore. The warm, soft press of a mattress at her back and the gentle way her face was tilted to the side. Bellatrix had no warmth, and her mind flashed to Dobby. They’d rescued her.

Her eyes felt heavy, but she forced them to open. Pain sliced through her head from the light, but it didn’t stop her gaze from connecting to an endless pool of blue. Blue that cradled her broken, tattered body and soul. There was no pity here, just the brief knowledge that she was seen. Seen on a level that no one had ever seen her before.

‘Don’t let go, ‘Ermione.’

The words felt far away but carried a gentle warmth that wrapped around her like a blanket. It grounded her. Pink, full lips moved but no words could penetrate the ringing in her ears. She looked at the woman who trembled with unspoken pain. Could see the worry that burned bright in those blue eyes.

How could one woman see what no one else had?

A stranger.

The brush of magic didn’t scare her. She felt nothing. Her emotions had long burned to a crisp but her body still echoed pain.

As her eyes closed, she saw it.

Quick as a flash, but there.

Magic.

Not the magic used to heal or hurt. This was a different kind of magic that looked oddly like the future wrapped in happiness and safety. A promise that no matter what happened, that future waited for her.

She jolted with the force of the memory. Hermione gasped, clutching her chest as her heart crashed into her ribs. A broken, startled cry burst free as her magic spiked beyond her control. The world titled and her vision grew hazy. Her other hand reached out for something to hold when her magic brushed Fleur’s thrall. Time slowed as her magic took notice of Fleur’s thrall, and a warmth cradled her aching chest. The pain eased and panic fled.

When the connection snapped, Hermione’s forehead pressed against the cool wood of her desk. She wouldn’t give into her pain. Would not let it take the progress she’d made from her. Her mind shifted inward, focusing on taking deep breaths before letting them out.

“You’re spiraling.”

Hermione didn’t lift her head as she heard the familiar dreamy voice.

“I’m centering,” she responded.

“Both can be true,” Luna remarked. “You shouldn’t run.”

“I’ve been running for over ten years. I’m not sure I know how to do anything else.”

“You find a hold, then you find another until you have given yourself the strength to keep going.”

“Is that all?” Hermione replied sarcastically.

“Do you doubt me?” Luna questioned.

Hermione blew out a breath, lifting her head to gaze at her old friend.

“Never.”

“Then don’t argue with me. I’m glad I was the one who came to see you. As much as I love Neville, he never understood.”

“He does his best.”

Luna smiled, a fond smile.

“He does,” she agreed. “I think you are where you need to be.”

“Which is good because this is my job,” Hermione teased.

“She always did scare you.”

Hermione nodded, unable to fight or question her friend.

“Nothing ever gets past you.”

“I think that’s a good thing for you,” Luna admitted. “I’ve known you since we were young teens. You never did like me back then.”

“I didn’t understand you then,” Hermione reminded her. “You see what others don’t.”

“Which is why I never held it against you. You’ve gone through a lot, Hermione. It’s okay to ask for help.”

She sighed, leaning back in her chair as she rubbed her face.

“There is so much that still terrifies me,” Hermione began. “Things I can’t talk about. If I could, maybe then I could get past it but that’s not happening. I feel raw, disjointed.”

“Fleur reminds you of too many things,” Luna nodded. “It might just be what you need.”

Hermione scoffed.

“I don’t see how that will help me.”

“That’s because you’ve clouded your sight with logic.”

Hermione laughed, a full sound she forgot she was capable of. Luna’s dreamy smile found its way onto her face, blue eyes full of affection.

“That is true. Should she scare me?”

Luna shook her head.

“I think she scares you because of what she represents. It's a clash between the past and the present mixed with the future. You remember her from the time she saved your life, and you are trying to figure out who she is in the present and how it will change your future. You feel it, whether you admit it or not, but there has always been something about Fleur that bothers you. No matter how you feel, you’ve a right to walk through that door.”

“She’s never left my mind,” Hermione said.

“I can tell, since you’re teaching at the school she attended.”

“She gave me a chance at the future, and I wanted to see what it was about Beauxbatons that Fleur could be the person she is.”

“What have you found?”

“That there is beauty everywhere if you take the time to look for it.”

Luna grinned.

“Which sums up Fleur Delacour.”

Hermione nodded.

“You found beauty here. You found a place to rest, even if temporarily. There is someone on the other side of the wall who can help you when you’re ready. It doesn’t seem like much, but there is a lot more to her than meets the eye,” Luna told her.

“I’m not sure I can do this.”

“Then don’t. You don’t have to do anything, Hermione. If you don’t, we will love you no matter what. If you do, take it in steps. Like you have with your journey since leaving Britain. No matter what, we will be here to catch you.”

************************************************************************************************

Hermione did her best to make it through the week. She heard rumblings about how wonderful Fleur was amongst her students. Fleur seemed to be capable of the impossible. Which was getting students excited about Charms again. It had the unintentional effect of her students gaining more confidence in her classroom. She was quickly becoming one of the favorite professors.

While Luna’s visit had helped cool some of her worries, the emotions still cropped up on her when she wasn’t paying attention. It would catch her off guard in the middle of a lesson and she had to cover the sudden change in her attitude with a smile.

Her nights weren’t any better. While she rarely dreamed in pictures, the emotional impact was enough to leave her shaken. There was no escape from the constant torment, but she powered on because what else could she do?

Hermione, for the first time since she began working at Beauxbatons, showed up at every meal. It felt...wrong not to show up. Just the reminder that Fleur was there helped ease her anxiety. Almost like she had a friend waiting for her. They hadn’t spoken, though she had seen Fleur open her mouth to speak before stopping herself. It would be up to Hermione to talk to Fleur, and she knew she wasn’t ready for that just yet. At dinner, Hermione found herself overwhelmed with the need to speak to Fleur but never did. The silence, at least, was comfortable despite the tension that lingered.

She also made sure to always keep her magic in. She’d never heard of the way her magic seemed to react to Fleur’s thrall. Like they had a mind of their own. It wasn’t aggressive but curious, much like its owner. Fleur’s eyes lingered on her and the look in her eyes made her feel like a puzzle. The brushes of magic also left her feeling tingly all over. Her heart would race in her chest and her fingers twitched. An odd combination of sensations. Hermione could ask if Fleur understood what was happening, but the idea of her magic being used against her was enough to keep her silent. Wary.

Luna was positive that Fleur was important in her journey, but Hermione wasn’t sure. At this rate, she would be speaking full sentences to Fleur in fifteen years. There were just some things that she didn’t do.

As the first week came to a close, Hermione let out a breath. She wasn’t sure she could handle the amount of stress in her life. Anytime she thought about going to take a sabbatical, the mere idea of not speaking to Fleur kept her still. What was it about the Veela that she couldn’t let go of? Far too many hours had been spent trying to answer that question. Fleur was beautiful, talented, and kind. Not in a way that felt forced but a genuine care for others. She’d seen Fleur interact with the young Veela occasionally, and happiness radiated from her when she did. It was captivating. Fleur was captivating. The more Hermione saw, the harder it was to look away. She’d wait just to glimpse the sparkle in those blue eyes.

As she took her seat for dinner, she heard Fontaine and Lavigne ask Fleur about her first week. Her teasing words felt natural and full of the joy at having found the place you needed to be. Hermione looked at the small bowl of strawberries she’d requested. She wasn’t ready, but she couldn’t help but show her support for Fleur.

Hermione placed the bowl on the table next to Fleur’s fork and as she pulled her hand back, Fleur’s hand brushed hers. She didn’t look, didn’t need to, because she could feel the tension tighten. It was the only way Hermione had discovered to show Fleur that she would be ready one day. That Fleur loved strawberries had stayed locked in Hermione’s mind. She couldn’t shake the look of contentment Fleur had when she ate them. All the energy Fleur radiated paused for the briefest moment when she ate them.

The tug in her chest as Fleur picked up the bowl no longer scared her. They had a starting point. Even if they didn’t talk or acknowledge it, that one moment gave Hermione enough courage to bridge the gap. The soft hum Hermione heard as Fleur enjoyed her treat, she found endearing. She doubted that would ever change.

Dinner continued in the usual fashion. Hermione kept half an ear on Fleur’s conversation with the other professors while she ate. When enough students had left, Hermione did the same. The year had just begun, and Hermione felt hopeful. She knew it had everything to do with Fleur. Her magic, for the first time, was let free as she passed Fleur. The brush of their magic made her heart race, and a wave of warmth blanketed her senses. Her magic vibrated with the power she felt in Fleur’s thrall. She drank in the feeling and felt like she could breathe for the first time in years. After a few seconds, her magic came back to her, the connection snapping, but the feelings lingered.

Before she left the dining hall, something pulled in her chest and brought her to a stop. Her head turned and found blue eyes watching. Something shifted inside of her as their gaze clashed.

Fleur Delacour was going to change her life.

******************************************************************************************

Maybe she spoke too soon. Hermione continued to struggle as September faded into October. She withdrew further because she was triggered too often. The voice she’d managed to quiet over the years sounded louder, more demanding. She hated it.

One day. Remember that. I promised to get you one day.

Hermione rocked on her heels as she paused on her way to her classroom. She let her magic sink into white stone. Used the magic of Beauxbatons to diminish the sound of that voice. It didn’t stop the cackle she felt in her bones, but the voice was quiet. Neither option was good to hear.

As she tried to center herself, she felt the flaring of several Veela thrall. All playful. She’d been feeling the young Veela for weeks. With her classroom next to Fleur’s, she knew when the students were in her classroom. Their thrall leaked through the wall into her classroom. She could hear their excited chatter, and it brought a soft smile to her face. Alone in the hallway, she let their joy fill her. She loved teaching. Could remember the days when she had felt that same joy before it was torn away from her year after year. Being around the students helped ease the ache of a stolen childhood. The knowledge that she could hopefully prevent them from feeling the pressure of war on their shoulders. Peace was temporary. It was in that peace that she could make the difference. To build their skills in a way that they never question themselves when faced down by someone who was out to kill them.

‘You need to find what makes you happy, little one, or you’ll never survive the next few months,’ Lorainne said where she was perched on her stool. Her hand moved in slow, clockwise circles as she stirred the potion on her worktable. ‘You can’t hide from the pain forever.’

‘I still hear them in my head, feel them on my skin,’ Hermione grumbled as she flipped through another book.

‘Because you haven’t confronted your pain. You’re going through the motions.’

‘I ran away.’

‘You ran to survive,’ Lorainne pointed out. ‘That is different. What brings you joy?’

‘Learning.’

‘Keep going.’

‘I’m not sure I know what joy is. I feel like I haven’t been able to find the same spark I had when I was younger. I hurt. I’m scared. Sometimes it feels like there is a clock ticking down over my head and I’ll find myself under the control of those I ran from.’

Lorainne nodded. ‘Those are valid concerns. We’ve done as much as we can to move you forward, but somethings don’t go away as easily. Is there anything you want to know? To see? To do?’

Hermione sighed, setting the book down before she propped her head in her hand as she watched Lorainne work. Her mind drifted. She wasn’t sure what would make her happy or if she was even capable of that emotion anymore. There was an entire world to explore if she could just go. If she traveled, she could be spotted. The only way she would survive is if no one ever found her.

‘It’s beautiful,’ Fleur argued to Roger Davis, who looked enthralled as he nodded his head at her. She could see the spark of annoyance at the glazed look in the boy’s eyes as Fleur attempted to talk to him not at him.

Hermione could still remember the passionate way Fleur spent dinner at the Yule Ball describing her school. Despite her terrible performance, she’d been chosen as a Champion. Hermione had seen and heard hints of Fleur’s intelligence since she’d arrived. They hadn’t spoken or even crossed paths, but Hermione had found herself lingering in the shadows to hear Fleur and her friend's chat. Her French was good enough to understand but not good enough to talk, or it was when she was fifteen. Fleur often got into heated debates with her classmates about whatever they were doing in class.

As she watched Lorainne work, she wondered if it was Beauxbatons that made Fleur formidable or being Veela. The look in those blue eyes as they lit up with a joy Hermione had lost when it came to Hogwarts. Maybe there was something to Beauxbatons that Hermione should figure out. After all, Beauxbatons taught Fleur, the woman who saved her life at the expense of temporarily losing her magic. Was it the environment? Did Beauxbatons teach more than Hogwarts did? What kind of place gifted Fleur to the world?

‘I think...I might know where I can find that spark,’ Hermione said in a low, soft voice.

‘Where is that?’

‘Beauxbatons.’

Lorainne paused in her work, as dark green eyes locked on Hermione’s face. ‘Not that I don’t love my school, but why there?’

‘Because the woman who saved me, who gave me my freedom, went there. She always boasted about how it was truly magical and not in the way you think. I’d like to teach there. Teach future generations about more than survival.’

‘Well, there is a list of programs that Beauxbatons has for certification and completing your N.E.W.T courses you missed. Although, I think Hogwarts passed you anyway,’ Lorainne remarked.

Hermione picked up the parchment that Lorainne pointed to.

‘What was her name? The woman you can’t seem to forget.’

‘Fleur Delacour.’

Lorainne snorted. ‘Those Delacours are something else, but if she gave you a way to figure out your spark, then I think she’s worth something.’

‘That’s a high compliment from you,’ Hermione teased.

‘Delacours are a force to be reckoned with. You’d do well to remember that.’

Hermione sighed, making her way to her classroom. Fleur was just as impressive as she’d seemed when she was younger. She never boasted and always listened with a patience that took Hermione years to learn. Fleur was such a natural that Hermione was sure that Fleur had some teaching experience that she was just unaware of.

Her hand lingered over the stack of books at the back of the room. She’d purchased them during her third-year teaching. It was after a rather spirted discussion with Lorainne about the good and bad of Ancient Runes versus Charms. They went together and most of their work could be boosted with a well-placed Charm. Their conversation had led Hermione to contacting a few Curse Breakers she’d taught in her first year of school. After a few talks, she came up with the idea of creating a voluntary class to merge the two at school to open the students minds to other choices for careers. When she brought it to the Charms Professor, she waved her off and said she wasn’t about to get deep into a new project when she was gearing up to retire. Hermione couldn’t blame her and kept it on the back burner in the hope that the next professor would want to help her. It seemed her path would always find its way back to Fleur.

Why would she help you? It’s not like you’re any good. She is a skilled curse-breaker and could run circles around you. Why would someone like her want to be around you? A broken nothing with no friends or family. Would she still talk to you if she knew about what you’ve done?

Hermione shuddered as she pushed the voice to the back of her mind. Her skin itched at the phantom grip on her shoulder. She dug into the skin as she scratched her shoulder. The feeling had her shoulders tightening and loosening as her magic churned in her chest.

Her thoughts were broken when she heard the excited chatter of students as they left Fleur’s classroom. Hermione bit her lip, eyes locked on her own door, as she tried to determine if she could even bring the idea to Fleur. There hadn’t been a reason to talk to her before this and while it was already halfway through October, Hermione wasn’t sure what to do. Fleur didn’t attempt to speak to her, the only Professor who didn’t despite the warning they all got. That single thought propelled Hermione through her door and to knock on Fleur’s door.

“Hey,” Hermione said when Fleur turned to see who was stopping by so late. Her stomach knotted as she waited for Fleur’s response.

“Hey,” Fleur replied, a bit surprised to see her.

“Do you have a second?”

Fleur nodded. That silence. The one that Fleur left after every opening Hermione made. It wasn’t oppressive but a simple allowance for Hermione to continue if or when she wanted to. Fleur’s constant ability to put Hermione at ease made her move.

She stepped into the room, taking in the new setup in Fleur's classroom. Fleur leaned back against the edge of her desk as Hermione approached just to lean against a random desk. Her arms were crossed over her chest and once more found the silence an opening.

“I was going to stop by earlier, but I saw the students and figured it was best to wait,” Hermione began.

“Ah, yes, we were talking to the newly risen Veela to see how they’re adjusting,” Fleur explained. She felt each word wrap around her in the melodic voice that she’d only heard hints of as a teenager. Fleur’s voice had always been beautiful whether she spoke English or French.

Hermione nodded in understanding and could see a hint of recognition in those blue eyes before her gaze moved to the side.

“It must be nice for them to have you as a professor.”

Fleur smiled, she could hear it in her voice as she spoke. “They seem happy about it. It's certainly something I could’ve used when I was in school.”

“Is that why you wanted to teach?” Hermione asked before she could stop herself.

Fleur was dangerous like that. She put Hermione at ease and made her forget her own rules. It was hard to not let herself just exist alongside Fleur. A part of her still desperate to find connections in the world. Neville, Hannah, and Luna were wonderful in their own way, but Fleur was on another level that she couldn’t quite explain, even to herself.

“Yes, and no. I’ve always wanted to teach, but Gabrielle refused to let me teach while she was in school. The elders and I hoped that by having a mature Veela at school would ease the transition for the younger ones.”

“That’s admirable.” She heard the hint of awe that crept into her words. Mentally kicking herself for letting her emotions show in such a way. Her gaze locked on her scuffed but professional low heeled black boots she favored since she started teaching. They were comfortable and well-worn. She should replace them soon, but she was attached to this specific pair. A present from Hannah, her first-year teaching.

Fleur didn’t continue the conversation, content to wait Hermione out. Almost like she knew that whatever brought Hermione to her door was important. It still caught her off-guard that Fleur didn’t push. She didn’t hint at anything and never tried to control the conversation. Not that they had many, but she’d done the same thing back at Shell Cottage. Her quiet presence soothed the raw edges of her emotions and gave her an escape from pain. It didn’t keep the tension from her shoulders.

You shouldn’t be here. No one can help you. You’ll never taste the freedom that she has. Never understand what it means to have someone in your corner. You belong to me.

Hermione had to fight from visibly flinching. Her body locked tight from the combination of speaking to Fleur and dealing with the echo of the voice in her head. Lorainne promised it was an echo and nothing more, but it didn’t stop her fear. Fear of the voice becoming real again.

“Well,” Hermione cleared her throat. “I’ve discussed with Maxime over the last couple of years about doing some combined sessions between Ancient Runes and Charms since they run counter to each other. The last professor wasn’t interested in adding more work at the end of their career. Maxime figured you’d be opened to doing the work. It doesn’t have to be this year since it's your first year but maybe next year? We can plan out the schedule for next year. Not that you have to, but it was an idea.”

She rambled.

Hermione rambled to Fleur.

Something she hadn’t done in years. Tears stung her eyes at the realization. Her fingers drummed on her thigh, a nervous habit she’d long forgotten she did. She watched the way her fingers tapped an inconsistent beat, fascinated that a single conversation could bring out traits and habits buried under years of pain.

Hermione's mind was a million miles away when Fleur spoke up.

“That sounds like a fantastic idea,” Fleur said. Her tone was full of surprise and excitement.

The tension in Hermione’s shoulders disappeared at her words.

“Really?” Shock reverberated through the word as Fleur’s face broke into a smile. A very pretty smile.

“Of course. I know some schools do it, but to have a dedicated class to it would be amazing. With a bit of time, we could even get students certified for Curse Breaking and skipping the entire first year of training.”

“Would Gringotts go for that?”

Fleur shrugged and Hermione found her interest locked into the possibility of having a certified class by Gringotts.

“Maybe? They did say I owed them for letting me out of my contract early to teach but I could talk to a few Goblins who might be able to take it to the King.” Fleur said it in such an off-handed way that Hermione knew she was downplaying how important it was that Fleur could even ask.

“It would help to create a curriculum for the combination of classes,” Hermione nodded, though she was still positive Fleur had more connections than she let on.

“Did you want to do a few practice classes for the seventh years before the year ended?” Fleur asked in excitement.

Hermione blinked, surprised at the enthusiasm. Fleur’s blue eyes were bright with wonder, and it was that look Hermione missed. Even though she eager as well, she didn’t show it in the way Fleur managed to. With an unwavering desire to see it come to fruition. The same determination that once lived inside Hermione.

“We could. If you’re free next weekend, we could work out the first steps of it?” Her words felt thick, heavy on her tongue.

“I should be able to do that,” Fleur said with a nod. “It would give us the week to think about what we need from each class.”

“I also wanted to get it out of the way before the schools arrive and added to our schedule.”

“Oh, that’s coming up. I keep forgetting. I swear, all I think about is what homework needs to be graded.” Fleur gave a lighthearted chuckle.

Hermione gave a half-smile at her words a milestone for her. She just couldn’t seem to help it when Fleur’s enthusiasm was so contagious.

“Homework never ends,” Hermione replied. “Thank you for talking to me. I’ll be by next Saturday after breakfast if that works for you?”

“That’s fine with me.”

With a final nod, Hermione pushed off the desk and headed for the door. She decided that talking to Fleur wasn’t that scary. It was easier than she thought it could be, but she knew it had everything to do with Fleur. She gave her space to exist, to find the words she needed, and never made her feel rushed or judged. The voice in her head remained silent for the moment.

She paused in the doorway when another question popped into her head. Hermione turned, seeing the soft smile on Fleur’s face, blue eyes distant as she seemed to think something over. It took a second to ask her question since she was a little distracted by that smile.

“Hey, did you spell your classroom so no one would feel your thrall?” Hermione asked, catching Fleur off-guard once more.

Fleur blinked, her head tilting slightly as she digested the question.

“Yes. I wasn’t about to deal with hormonal teenagers reacting to my thrall. My robes were spelled the same.” Fleur replied with a sheepish grin.

“Does that keep them from building a resistance to it?” She continued because curiosity always got the better of her.

“No, enough still escapes. It’s not enough to impact them entirely, but just enough to be felt if you pay attention.”

Hermione nodded.

“I thought so. Have a good night, Fleur.”

“You as well, ‘Ermione.”

A smile broke free as her name lingered in her mind. She could almost hear a tint of emotion in the way Fleur said her name and she couldn’t get over the way her voice seemed to curve around her name like it was a secret meant to be heard by just them. That was Fleur, who made Hermione feel important and seen just by saying her name.