Hermione's eyes snapped open after enduring three and a half hours of agonizing waiting. Sprawled on her seat, she sensed an abrupt shift in the air, the scent becoming almost tangible.
With swift excitement, she leaped to her feet, positioning herself at the water's edge. Bubbles began to rise.
Peter emerged first, but the relief was short-lived. He dragged an unconscious Jermaine along, and the remaining three members of the team followed, bearing evident wounds from the vine-infested depths. Fredrick struggled with a massive moss-like mass dragging it on the ground, it was covered in eerie vines, resembling a humanoid figure but eerily motionless.
"Isabelle, help me!" Peter shouted as she was the only other healer of the group. The blonde witch quickly went to look at Jermain who was turning pale. She quickly used her magic to see what she could do.
"We got it!" Fredrick declared, collapsing onto the floor in pain. Despite the exhaustion etched on their faces, they bore witness to Hermione's unyielding gaze.
"It was floating in the middle, protected by vines and Grindylows. Jermaine reached it first, but it fought back, strangling him. We overpowered it, but it drained all our energy," Fredrick explained between labored breaths.
Hermione scrutinized the massive entity and frowned deeply. "This isn't the heart."
"What?! There wasn't anything else in there! What are you saying this isn't it?" Andrea snapped angrily, clutching her bleeding arm and occasionally glancing at Jermaine in concern. "Don't tell me, we risked our friend's life for a decoy!"
Hermione didn't know what to say. The smell wasn't there. She wanted to make sure.
Perplexed, Hermione walked up to the mass, casting a severing charm. With a crunch, it split open, releasing a splash of water. Undeterred, Hermione waded in, her hand delving into the murky mud. After a brief search, she retrieved a severed arm, still preserved but no longer fresh, marred by blisters and boils, its skin deeply purple. Yet, there was no stench of the curse
"Where is it?!" Hermione gritted her teeth, pacing on the floor, grappling with the puzzle. The discarded arm lay forgotten after throwing away the useless thing. Her mind was preoccupied with worry as her stomach grumbled even louder and her head started to hurt.
Surviving on minimal sustenance for two months, she had put another case on hold, anticipating a more substantial gain from this case. The frustration echoed in her expletive as she was beginning to believe she might have chosen the wrong thing. "Fuck!"
"Ms. Ranger?"
"What?!" She bellows in agitation, eyes turning black, and her teeth sharpening into feral points.
Isabelle's shock-stricken face met hers, momentarily jolting Hermione from her hunger-induced aggression to remind herself she was being insolent.
"I'm sorry." She shakes her head, steps back— fighting to rein in her primal instincts, and hands over her eyes to shield the blonde woman from being frightened of her irises. She'd encountered more than a dozen who ran away screaming when they saw her partly transform. Isabelle wasn't one of the people she wanted to push away. "It's just... I need the heart, but there's no curse on this thing you retrieved. It's hollow."
"We weren't lying. There wasn't anything there. We were sure we felt dark magic from it, but after it attacked Jermain, it didn't have any response."
As if struck by lightning, Hermione straightens up, her nose picking up the smell again. That's it! She was just looking in the wrong place.
"Get away from him!" Hermione shouts as Jermaine's eyes open, blood-red.
"Hahhahhahahha!" Jermaine's body contorts before kicking Peter away and making a run for the exit.
"Oh no, you don't!" Fredrick was not far behind as he had seen the signs much quicker than she did.
Hermione's body convulsed as she chased after them, her once-rosy complexion now turned ghastly gray while her control was treading into a thin line. The thought of her meal getting away molders her sanity. Hermoine waved her hand, and the exit was closed by an explosion, a hasty decision as her body sharpened. Unfortunately, this action caused one of the explosions to rocket a stone at Fredrick's head and knock him out.
"Fredick!" Isabelle hastily conjured a Wingardium Leviosa, rescuing him from further harm as a cascade of rocks tumbled down to seal the entrance.
Hermione neither cared nor even noticed this, as her attention was on the curse getting desperate under her chase.
The heart, sensing being cornered, saw no other way out but through force. It changed tactics and charged at Hermione, its nails transformed into razor-sharp claws. Hermione grinned in anticipation, preferring her prey to come to her.
But before she could block the heart's attack, an unseen force restrained her arms with a glowing rope, and her feet encased in ice therefore forcing her in place. Seizing the chance, the heart triked, slashing at her face. She evaded, but the claws found purchase in her chest instead, she hissed seeing the long dark nails sinking deeper and deeper into her body however the pain was bearable.
Hermione, determined to adapt, cast a spell to stop Jermaine in his tracks. Golden chains emerged from the ground, wrapping around his body, contorting his arms, and clenching his torso. The chains left burn marks, fueled by the spell's strength that grew with each drop of his blood. She knew she might need to apologize later, but letting him escape would trigger her berserk instincts.
As for why she had no choice, she could think of two pesky Aurors.
"What are you doing?!" Hermione glared behind her as Peter and Andrea pointed their wands, while also planning another set of spells.
"what do you think?! Protecting our own!"
"He's been possessed by the curse, you dimwits!" Her arm tensed as she slowly pulled her arms back to gain some sort of control.
"Said the one who didn't think twice about letting an exploding charm that nearly killed Fredrick!" Peter doubled over in his words.
Hermione scowled. "You Aurors and your narrow views! Right now, Jermaine's soul is being eaten away by the curse. If I don't stop it, Jermaine will be lost, and all you'll have is a husk! Is that what you want?!" She growled and pushed her arms forward and tripped Peter who was pulling her back but she was still bound as Andrea was doing a sealing spell on her.
"You're lying!"
"Bwahahhahaha! Ahhh! Pain! Pain! Die! Lot of you!" Jermaine's face contorted with boils, and his eyes bled while howling in pain, the chains glowing in a golden hue as they continued to burn his skin and take more of his blood.
The chain was the tread of Vladimir. The curse chains can hold down any creature on sight so long as they have blood in them and while Hermione knew from experience how painful it grips you, she cannot let the heart leave with Jermaine in tow. Although, she did feel sympathetic for she could faintly feel his soul tearing apart as they spoke and competed with each other's stubbornness to survive. The curse was ravaging his memories and all the happiness he had. Hermione could also feel a slight tremor of it calling out to her... for help.
Blast it!
'Injured Aurors are better than a dead one!' she thought indispensably. Just as she prepared to attack the two Aurors to free herself, Isabelle unleashed two Stunning Spells, disarming and knocking them out with a guilty expression before turning to Hermione pleadingly. Her blue eyes were reminiscent of a French lady she met once before.
"Ms. Ranger! Hurry!"
Hermione nodded towards the blonde. She moved her arms, reeling back the chains back to where they came from before seizing Jermaine's body in a tight bear hug, the brunette's presence slowly imprisoning it. The heart finally comprehending its impending doom, bellows in fright using its last bit of energy to get away from her, struggling under her weight. "No! Abomination! You can take me away! He still hasn't come for me!"
Hermione hugged Jermaine's body closer, his arms constricted by the strength of the grasp as her eyes fully turned black before neon blue irises pops up and her face hardened into bones. Her arms and body grew larger with a slew of purple matter underneath shedding skin.
"I'm sorry. I don't care whose bidding you follow, but to me, you're nothing more than prey," she whispered softly. Her voice dropped to a menacing growl.
Isabelle observed in awe as a whirlwind enveloped the two figures, Angel Flame unleashing black infernos that nearly coalesced into a Protego Diabolica. Even from a distance, the intense heat prickled her skin, and her eyes squinted to shield against its searing intensity.
Never before had Isabelle witnessed such a spell performed in front of her. It was a dark charm, capable of incinerating the enemies of the caster. But why would it perform such a thing?
Jermaine's agonized howls echoed through the air, his voice distorted and snarling. Isabelle could hardly believe her eyes as she strained to see through the flames. There, amidst the inferno, she caught glimpses of a grotesque transformation taking place.
A monstrous form emerged a twisted and contorted body with limbs that seemed to defy nature. Claws, sharp as daggers, gripped onto a smaller human figure, their struggles futile against the monstrous grip. Two large masses protruded from the creature's back and head, one hooking like horns and the other angled webbed spikes. Its hair turned white and even more disheveled than before. Its face was adorned with a bone mask and mandibles lined with razor-sharp teeth.
Isabelle couldn't see everything but the image left her unable to move and tear her eyes away.
At that moment, Isabelle realized the truth. She was not human. Peter's words, once thought to be metaphorical, now held a literal weight. She really was a creature.
She just wasn't sure what though. She was a creature, a cross between a skeletal undead being and a specter. Yet, her lower half remained human, hinting at an incomplete transformation.
It began to breathe in black miasma coming off her friend's body, his face writhing in pain. "NO! HE PROMISED! HE PROMISED HE WILL COME BACK FOR ME!"
The surrounding parts heaved a wave of dark magic that also surged across her body, taking her by surprise.
Isabelle felt herself weakening as if her very essence was being drained away. Dizziness overcame her, and she fell to her knees, her emotions replaced by a numbing emptiness. Regret and sorrow flooded her mind, memories of her once fiancee and a troubled future under the guise of their clan's protege came hurtling back to hurt her. All these emotions swirled in her chest. Tears streamed down her face as she sobbed uncontrollably.
"I..." Isabelle figured out that it might have been the side effects of the curse that was fighting back and causing ripples in the air, enough to affect even her. She tried to move, to escape the emotions the curse was bringing to the surface, but her body was devoid of energy. Exhausted and overstimulated with dark thoughts.
Suddenly, as swiftly as the invasive thoughts had come, they vanished. Isabelle found herself lying on the wet ground, her gaze fixed on nothingness. Her head felt heavy as if filled with cotton, and she could hear a voice above her and to some degree notice a tuff of brown hair.
Her instinct was to push the person away, but she lacked the strength to do so. All she could register was the sensation of being cradled in their arms, carried away to somewhere warmer.
~oOo~
As Isabelle's consciousness slowly returned, she found herself nestled on a bed of warm grass, cocooned in a soft blanket. The air carried the delicate fragrance of jasmine, soothing her senses. But as she attempted to sit up, a pounding headache and a queasy feeling threatened to pull her back into the depths of unconsciousness.
"Here, eat this." To her surprise, a familiar voice broke through the haze. Isabelle looked up to see Miss Ranger extending a piece of chocolate towards her.
The gesture left her momentarily speechless, her mind struggling to piece together the events that had unfolded just moments before. Casting her gaze around, she realized they were no longer confined within the treacherous caves. Instead, they found themselves in a makeshift campsite, her teammates slumbering peacefully on nearby futons, wrapped in cozy blankets. Fredrick and Jermain had been tended to with care, their wounds cleaned and bandaged, while Andrea and Peter, though healed, still bore the marks of their ordeal.
A crackling fire blazed in the center of the campsite, its warm glow casting dancing shadows on the surrounding trees. Above them, a transfigured roof provided shelter, creating an atmosphere of comfort amidst the wilderness. Isabelle's attention returned to Miss Ranger, who sat in a camping chair, engrossed in a book, with the other hand still offering the chocolate.
Miss Ranger's voice broke the silence, her words laced with sincerity. "I know this isn't enough to make up for my behavior, but I hope it helps," she said, her eyes reflecting genuine remorse. Isabelle couldn't find it in her heart to refuse the offering, accepting the chocolate with gratitude. "Thank you." As she nibbled on the sweet treat, she felt a wave of relief wash over her, the migraine easing its grip on her throbbing head.
"You don't have to apologize to me," Isabelle spoke softly, her voice tinged with understanding. "I had a feeling that... you needed it," she trailed off, struggling to find the right words to express her thoughts.
Miss Ranger let out a weary sigh, her gaze momentarily distant. She conjured another cup, pouring fragrant jasmine tea and offering it to Isabelle. As she accepted the warm cup, Isabelle couldn't help but feel a mix of curiosity and concern.
Miss Ranger's response carried a hint of regret. "I did need it, but the reasons are complicated. If I were to explain, you would be subjected to signing a blood contract," she explained, her tone tinged with caution.
Isabelle's brows furrowed, her mind grappling with the implications. "But won't I have to sign one after tonight?" she questioned, her voice laced with uncertainty.
Miss Ranger's reply was tinged with doubt as well. "Maybe... maybe not. I'm not well-versed in the workings of the ministry. Perhaps Mr. Galloway can shed some light on the matter when you meet him again."
"Really, it's fine! You don't need to talk about it if you don't want to."
"I appreciate that," she said with a sad smile.
Isabelle understands Miss Ranger's predicament. What she saw wasn't an easy topic to discuss on any occasion. It also wasn't her place to either.
As Isabelle sat up from the futon and joined Miss Ranger by the crackling fire, a sense of curiosity burned within her. She couldn't help but inquire about the curse that had plagued them instead.
"How did that curse end up there?"
"Not conclusive but the arm you retrieved belongs to a woman, the ring in her hand was probably made in the 1950s to 1960s. It was a wedding ring too. I can only speculate that this is a matter of how hope can turn into regrets and transform into deep longing. A bride waiting for her groom so to speak." Isabelle touched her ring finger and found her engagement ring missing, she frown but hid her dismay.
"So a witch who turned into a curse."
"No, hardly any witch can turn into a curse. It's actually love and desire that turned into a curse, Miss Delacour. Ever heard of the movie grudge?"
"I'm not sure what you're talking about, no"
"It's a muggle movie about a family. Where a father killed his wife and drowned his kid. While also ending his life in the process. It was said that the hate as a result of this stayed on that house and whoever lives next the curse will latch on and kill them." Isabelle glared at Jean as she really hated horror movies even before.
"That's scary to think about."
"But the idea is the same, a curse artifact can be from a death and then formed through either emotions, desire and longing. These things are the basic ingredients for disaster. I think the curse of the marshland was the same. She loved him too much she waited and waited for him to come back but he never did, so she's stuck there under water pulling victims to her cage and also trapping them in a life not worth living. An illusion. Maybe it started off small, then it started to have more victims and it's curse grew larger. Until it was too much to handle."
"So, was the curse lifted?" she asked, her voice filled with anticipation. "We did, right?"
She sat up from the futon and joined Miss Ranger by the fire, sitting on another chair while holding her warm tea.
Miss Ranger's response was unexpected, causing Isabelle to raise an eyebrow. "I wouldn't say lifted. More like digested is a more appropriate term," she replied with a nonchalant shrug, followed by a small burp.
Isabelle's surprise grew as she processed Miss Ranger's words. "You... ate it?" she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.
Miss Ranger nodded, her expression unapologetic. "Yeah, as you found out, I am not entirely human. I have a particular appetite for dark magic. Well, magic in general, but the nastier it is, the more it sustains me," she explained, dusting off her book before closing it and turning her attention back to Isabelle.
Isabelle's mind raced, trying to comprehend the revelation before her. "You're not kidding me, right?" she asked, a mix of awe and skepticism in her voice.
Miss Ranger shook her head, a smile playing on her lips. "Nope, I'm not kidding. I am fully reliant on magic to sustain myself. It's a far better diet than what I used to have," she admitted, her tone tinged with a hint of longing and shame.
Curiosity got the better of Isabelle, and she couldn't resist delving deeper. "What was your original diet?" she inquired, her eyes fixed on Miss Ranger, awaiting her response.
"I can't tell you, but if you guess I won't stop you either," she said with a smile.
Isabelle pondered for a moment, her mind racing through various possibilities. "Magical creatures?" she ventured.
Miss Ranger shook her head, her face scrunching up at the thought. "No, I could still eat them, but they wouldn't fully sustain me," she explained, a hint of disgust crossing her features. Isabelle agrees, her face crunched up thinking of Miss Ranger eating a phoenix for lunch or something.
Before Isabelle's imagination could take a dark turn, she blurted out, "You don't eat witches or wizards, do you?"
Miss Ranger's immediate response was filled with both disgust and relief. "No!" she exclaimed, reading Isabelle's thoughts before they were even spoken. "Eating witches or wizards would be too gruesome, even for me. It's just not my diet," she reassured, which Isabelle was grateful to know.
Isabelle's mind raced once again, searching for another possibility. "What about one's magical core?" she asked, her voice filled with curiosity.
Miss Ranger fell silent, her gaze fixed on the dancing flames of the fire. She sipped her tea, contemplating her response. Isabelle's anticipation grew,
"Did I hit the mark?"
"Yes and no."
Frustration crept into her expression as she sighed, surrendering to the enigmatic nature of the situation. "I give up. You keep your secrets," she muttered, frowning as she continued to savor the bittersweet taste of the chocolate, hoping it would bring her some solace.
But her mind couldn't help but wander back to her teammates, especially Jermain, the bald and jolly man who had faced the brunt of the recent ordeal. "Is Jermain going to be alright?" she asked, her concern evident in her voice.
"Yes. Surprisingly, he held out strong and endured the takeover. The curse didn't leave any lasting effects, but he would be exhausted for a few days, thanks to the cursed chains I placed on him. Have him consume copious amounts of spinach and red meat to aid his recovery."
"And what about the others?" Isabelle inquired, her worry gradually dissipating as she listened to the reassuring words.
"Superficial wounds," came the reply. "Frederick, however, suffered a broken rib. I did my best to heal him, but it would be wise to have a proper healer examine him."
A wave of relief washed over Isabelle as she realized that her teammates were all safe and sound, albeit with some paperwork to tackle in the aftermath. Grateful that her own responsibilities were relatively light, she savored the momentary respite.
As Isabelle felt a gentle hand on her shoulder, the memory of the monstrous creature lurking in the cave resurfaced, causing her to instinctively recoil. Regret flashed across her face as she realized her reaction, but Miss Ranger, understanding the underlying fear, simply withdrew her hand, a pained expression briefly crossing her features.
"I'm sorry. I-" Isabelle began to apologize, but the brunette waved it off, offering a half-hearted smile. "It's fine," she reassured her. "I shouldn't have invaded your personal space like that."
With a graceful motion, Miss Ranger rose from her seat, retrieving her bag from beside her. "Anyway, the case is solved. You no longer have to worry about the marshlands. Please convey my regards to Mr. Galloway. Until next time," she said, bidding farewell.
"Wait, Miss Ranger!" Isabelle called out, her voice filled with urgency, just as Miss Ranger was about to leave. She extended her hand, holding out a worn-out envelope. "Please, hear me out."
Miss Ranger looked at the letter, a hint of confusion in her eyes. "What is this letter exactly?"
"This is the last letter I received from my family. After tonight I decided that I would recommend you to my mother?" Isabelle declared, her tone resolute.
"Your mother? Is this a marriage proposal because I'm-"
"As much as I find you extremely amazing, Miss Ranger. I have a fiancee already," Isabelle retorted with a huff, causing Miss Ranger to chuckle.
"I was talking about your mother."
"My father is still alive, thank you very much!"
The brunette couldn't help but smirk."Well, are they divorced?"
With a glare, Miss Ranger finally stopped joking and rolled her eyes. "Okay, so what does your letter say?"
Isabelle's expression turned serious as she spoke. "As I was saying. They told me that six months ago, three members of our clan fell ill. No healer has been able to determine the cause or find a cure. One of them has already passed away, and five more are showing the same symptoms."
Miss Ranger crossed her arms, concern etched on her face. "I'm not sure how I can help with that, Isabelle. I'm not a healer, and my healing abilities are limited. I barely even healed Fredrick hoping I didn't vanish his bones like my professor did with my best friend in my second year."
Isabelle's hand tightened around the letter, her voice filled with determination. "I have a feeling it's not a sickness, Miss Ranger." Miss Ranger nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. "You think it's a curse?"
Isabelle nodded. "Yes, I do. I know I don't have any concrete proof, and even my own mother doesn't believe me. But someone dear to me will die if nothing is done. I'm willing to pay any price to convince you to take on this case. Please."
Miss Ranger looked apprehensive. "How about this, Isabelle? I'll investigate, and see if there's any indication of a curse. If you're right, and it is indeed a curse, I'll accept the case. If not, I'll have to, unfortunately, decline your offer. Does that arrangement suffice?"
Anything was better than nothing, Isabelle supposed.
Isabelle's eyes filled with gratitude. "Yes, thank you. That's more than I could ask for."
The air seemed lighter as Isabelle watched Miss Ranger depart, a sense of closure settling over her.
She drank her tea while watching the fire dance, mind returning back to the cave once again. Miss Ranger was by far a mystery of her own but a ferocious one, she was sure. At least this time, she can find a way that neither of those curse breakers and healers had done so before. Isabelle has bet her last chips on Miss Ranger, hoping she can save her little sister.
"Au coeur de l'incertitude, il y a toujours l'espoir, si fragile soit-il"
~oOo~
PARTIALLY FORMED:
Notes:
And that's a wrap for the first case. Unto the next one! This time to France!
A few notes:
Translation:
"At the heart of uncertainty, there is always hope, however fragile it may be"
Also my inspiration of the curse of the marshlands was actually take off the British folklore Jenny greenteeth but I took it a bit silly.
P.S.- Picture I took from Pinterest under "Milan Randika", I'm not sure if they're the artist but I borrowed it. Also, for the mistakes I'll edit it out little by little.
Chapter 4: RespiteSummary:
An easy afternoon.
Notes:
So wrote this filler for no apparent reason other than I want to establish at leat some context out.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Hermione strolled through the serene park, juggling four colorful leashes in one hand and a bag brimming with treats and toys in the other.
It was the weekend, and she had initially planned to spend the entire day walking. However, a friend had called, offering her a ticket to any show in London's West End in exchange for walking their dogs. Despite not really needing the ticket, Hermione agreed, deciding to take the energetic quartet to the park.
She found a quite part of the park with a tree, and slowly lets the four golden retrievers on the run, making sure she throws a few tennis ball here and there. Halfway they completely forgot about Hermione and opted on chasing a grey squirrel. As they gleefully chased after other rodents, Hermione relaxed, periodically checking on them while reading a book and sipping tea from her vacuum flask.
She was giggling by herself when she heard voice coming behind them. A group of them.
"Come on, James. I told you this is nice. Fresh air, lots of spaces and we can relax. Merlin knows you've been hold up your shop with Sirius and Lupin for good know how many weeks. This is a good day for family time." Hermione saw a couple and a kid walking near her spot. When they were closer, they stop and a bit surprised that Hermione was sitting there. It would seem the vantage view hid her until the very last moment.
"Oh, I'm sorry. We thought this spot was unoccupied," the woman said apologetically to Hermione.
She smiled at the couple. "No, its fine. I am told I blend in the background most of the time when I'm too engrossed in a good book. If you guys like and it wouldn't bother you, you can share this spot with me."
The woman had dark long wavy red hair, beautiful and very approachable with her easy demeanor. She might have been the same height as her with a fit stature that even more chaser would die for. Her husband beside her was taller, with black flippant hair and wore glasses. His stance common for a middle age man but still athletic in some regard.
"We wouldn't want to intrude and there are a lot of spots for us to choose from."
"But mom, there are dogs here."
Hermione look down to see a little boy tugging on her mother's cuff. Dark hair, green eyes and fair complexion. He was looking more at the golden retrievers Hermione brough with her than at her but this doesn't bother the brunette as she found the boy adorable.
Hermione puts her hand on her lips and whistled for the four to come to her. The four golden retrievers were in a digging match before raising their head up and stumbling back to her.
The brunette laughed as she was tackled by the sheer size of them while patting them back to behave.
"Hey, you wanna pat Hiemdal? He doesn't bite, I swear."
Hermione kneeled closer to the boy and offered her most behaved boy but not before looking at the parents permission. The woman was beaming at the her and her son, while the father had an easy grin.
The little boy was scared at first, looking at the fluffy golden dog but after showing that no matter how many times Hermione pats his head, all he did was pant and waggle his tail, he calmed down.
When he got over his initial fear, the boy raised his hand and bobs the dogs nose to which it licked his hand and he started laughing.
"Mom, did you see that? He's licking my hand." Before he fully detached from his mother to fully pat the dog. Hermione for her part, ushered Pillow and Snicker to also get their heads pat and having Sparky last to be introduced since he was always the most troublesome.
"See. They like you." Hermione said warmly.
"If you don't mind, we brought a lot of food along with us, would you mind joining our little picnic?" The man asked as he as well suddenly join the little boy in spoiling the heck of the cute dogs.
"If you also don't mind me joining." Hermione beamed.
Once they set up the blankets and brought out some snacks, they each got a plate while offering some to her. Hermione didn't decline as she thought it would be impolite to do so.
As for the little boy, he said he wasn't hungry yet and went running with the four energetic canines on the fields but enough that they can still see them.
"Thank you for having us. This spot has the best shade and view. I've been longing for some family time, a picnic perhaps. Oh, I almost forgot. Pleased to meet you. My name is Lily, and this is James and our son Harry," Lily said warmly, her words tinged with a sense of longing for simple, carefree moments.
Hermione's smile widened, but her eyes betrayed a hint of sadness. "Yes, thank you for having me as well. My name is Jean. We've actually met before," she said, her gaze fixed on the couple.
James suddenly looked uneasy as they exchanged glances before turning back to Hermione. "We had a feeling, but we weren't sure. You're Jean Ranger. The Jean Ranger, right?"
Embarrassment flickered in Hermione's eyes as she nodded. "Yes, we met during a meeting with the Order. The Potters, am I correct?"
Lily, taking a bite of her pie, remarked, "What a small world, huh? Might I ask why you didn't join the Order when Dumbledore asked? I mean, you did great things with the Ministry, but..."
"What Lily means to ask is if we could have supported you more than the Ministry," James interjected, his concern evident.
Her eye changed direction and looked at Harry from across the plain. He was smiling, Pillow sitting on his back while his brothers tussle him like a weak lamb but he still enjoyed the scuffle. It was this kind of things that made Hermione think it was worth it.
"The reason is because of moral differences. We both know how the order operates. You fight for the good of all. I fight because it's my only and last choice. The war was different for the order and for me. Dumbledore and I would have clashed on what I believed in, it wouldn't help as most of you would oppose to my plan the second you found out. It wouldn't have worked, and I couldn't bear the thought of failing. So, I declined his offer. The Ministry was easier for me. They have their agenda, and I have mine, but our paths aligned more seamlessly than if I had stayed with the Order," Hermione explained, her words carrying neither regret or resignation.
For the most part, she did believe that had she reached out to Dumbledore for help, they might have reach a clash of egos. Dumbledore believe in his own ways and she, as well, believe in what she could do. Information of the future would had done nothing to quench each other's views. Not to mention, the order would have stopped her plans if they knew the ending and what she was capable of doing just to prevent it.
They're just too upright. Although... egos and secrecy aside. Dumbledore is still pretty highly regarded and for good reasons.
She remembered how Dumbledore approached her in the den of night after killing a death eater. The mad old crone looked at her unfazed while she was still bath in blood and her arms loosely inside a man's bowel all the while all he did was asked her if they could drink tea after her razing. She sighed at the memory, the man never disappoints even after all these years.
"Is that so? Well whatever it is, its done. You-know-who is killed and we can all relax." As Lily tried to lighten the mood, Hermione put on a brave smile, but a hint of sorrow lingered within her.
The war isn't over... not yet.
"Anyways, I know I haven't been the most outspoken person that Dumbledore has introduce, but I hope that if anything happens, anything at all, you can ask for my help, with or without a formal case," Hermione earnestly expressed.
"That's quite the offer, considering the rumors about seeking your assistance being as rare as meeting a unicorn," Lily chuckled.
Hermione laughed with the redhead woman. "I don't believe so. It's just... people want to ask for my help but I have certain conditions I must consider before accepting."
"Oh, what are those?" James inquired.
"My main reason for taking cases has to do with curses. Cursed objects for example. Anything that requires me to handle cursed artifacts, items or even location infested with it. Another reason is if it involves dealing with malevolent creatures, wizards, or witches. Those are my main areas. If it doesn't fall into those categories, I might take on special cases for personal reasons," Hermione explained. She found it amusing how people portrayed her as some kind of big shot supernatural detective, when her work mostly involved either beating or killing something and someone until they croak. The occasion where she would do any detective work would be even rare as all her expertise would ravel only with the dark arts. But she is resourceful so she's not wholly ignorant of other fields.
"Wow, then I admire you. Dealing with such dangerous things can be quite intense, but at least you know what you're doing. You should consider becoming a curse-breaker," Lily suggested.
It wasn't the first time she had been told that, but it was a rather niche occupation. "I'll consider it in the future. Anyway, how old is Harry?" Hermione asked, steering the conversation towards a lighter note.
"He's 6 now," Lily said joyfully, with James adding, "Before we know it, he'll be off to Hogwarts! I can't wait for him to get into all kinds of trouble," his voice filled with excitement, prompting a smile from Hermione.
"I'm sure he'll have plenty of friends," Hermione said with a smile, though a pang of pain accompanied her words.
"I just hope he won't take after his father; a bunch of troublemakers when we were at Hogwarts, responsible for turning McGonagall's hair white," Lily remarked, rolling her eyes as James hugged her affectionately. "As if you weren't part of some of those pranks," he teased.
"Because you always roped me into whatever mess you lot came up with," Lily retorted.
Hermione sighed. She guess now she knew where Harry gets his troublesome tendencies from. But in hind sight, it should have been obvious given Sirius recollection of when they were younger.
"Also, I hope you don't mind me asking, but did you also attend Hogwarts?" Lily inquired, her curiosity piqued after pulling away from James.
"Ye-" Hermione stopped herself at the last moment as she bit her lip. "Ow! Sorry! Give me a sec," she exclaimed.
"Here, have some water." She took the glass offered by the redhead and, while drinking, pondered how to respond without getting into trouble.
"Thank you. Ah, no, I didn't attend any wizarding school," Hermione cleared her throat as the couple looked shocked.
"Really? Then how did you become so skilled?" James inquired.
"Apprenticeship. My mentor was a nomad, a self-proclaimed nomad. Very eccentric and, well, rather mad individual. Never one for standard procedures. I learned a lot from him, and after parting ways, I continued learning through experience and books," she explained, a hint of truth in her words. Her encounter with her teacher in a tower of Dementors had indeed been enlightening... and definitely got more than she would have wanted. "Traveling helped in that regard, as you meet people every day and pick up a thing or two from them."
"Miss Ranger, you must have led a very free life," James remarked.
"Please, call me Jean. Also, it's not all it's cracked up to be. If I had the chance, I would have loved to attend Hogwarts. Beats being taught by a sadistic, narcissistic madman, that's for sure," she added, shooting a nasty look into the sky. She hoped she would never have to encounter him again, wishing he rots dead in his cell.
"Maybe in another life, we could have been classmates," James grinned. "By the way, how old are you, Jean?"
Hermione's eyes widened. "Ahh..."
Suddenly, Lily slapped James' arm and glared at him. "Don't you know never to ask a woman her age? Don't answer that, Jean. But you do look young, so you might have actually been classmates," Lily interjected.
Hermione laughed at James' playfully betrayed expression while she rubbed her neck, as they ignored her for a bit.
Her age. To be honest, she wasn't sure anymore. It had been a long time since she had thought about it. It didn't help that it was the least important thing on her mind. Fortunately, Lily and James didn't seem to mind her evasiveness.
The group of adults was surprised when Harry returned to them, looking like he had ventured into an underground city to play tag with his four-legged companions. "Mum, Dad, I'm hungry!" the excited little boy declared before slumping down beside Lily and Hermione to grab a sandwich.
Hermione stared down at him, shocked by how small he seemed. She raised her hand to compare it to Harry's and found that she could easily cover it. A bitter smile formed on her lips as she was reminded of how profoundly alien she was in this world, an impossibility.
"Hey there, champ. Are you enjoying your time with them?" Hermione redirected her attention to Harry, pushing aside her negative thoughts.
"Yeah. They're fast! Fluffy too! Can I keep them?" Harry finally met Hermione's eye for the first time since they had met, and she struggled to hold back her tears as the eyes of her best friend met her so innocently that she wanted to run away. Despite her emotions, she stayed composed.
"I'm sorry, Champ. I don't own these guys. They already have an owner," she said sadly. The boy frowned as if he were being scolded.
"Oh, don't cry, honey. We'll get you a puppy next time, okay?" His mother comforted the little boy, who started sobbing when he saw the golden retrievers playing nearby.
Feeling remorseful, Hermione quickly rummaged through her bag and retrieved something. Once she found what she was looking for, she took it out and held it up for Harry.
"Okay, buddy, can you open your hands for me?" The little boy was a bit apprehensive but stopped crying to offer his palms. His small palm was adorable, but she pushed aside the conflicting thoughts in her head and slowly placed the small golden object in his hands.
"Is that a snitch?" It was James who noticed it first, before Lily also took notice.
"What is it?" Harry asked, examining it from all angles.
"It's a snitch. This one is used when you play Quidditch. I think your dad and mum are going to teach you once you're a bit older. What you do with it is catch the snitch," Hermione explained.
"Catch it?"
"Yes." Hermione smiled and demonstrated by opening his palms, and the snitch's wings unfurled, hovering above Harry's face. "Wow, so cool!" he exclaimed, his face following the elusive object.
"Yes, it is. It was given to me by my best friend, but I think you'll need it more than me"
"Jean, we can't accept this," Lily interjected. "It means something to you; you shouldn't give it away so carelessly." Upon hearing his mother's words, Harry frowned once again, and Hermione couldn't bear to see it. She ruffled his hair before smiling at the two parents.
"It's fine. I have more things of his than this. Also, I'm not much of a Quidditch fan anyway. He can keep it, but..." She looked at Harry, his eyes hopeful. "you have to promise me that you won't lose it, okay?"
"I promise," he said eagerly, his grin wide.
"Then it's yours now," Hermione declared, her heart feeling a bit lighter than it had just moments before.
Harry was content after that. After eating, he, the snitch, and the four dogs went to play again, now with a competition to see who could capture the snitch the fastest. Hermione was delighted to see them playing, and Lily and James were good company, albeit quite competitive, especially with each other.
After long, the day was spent and they were leaving.
As the day drew to a close, they prepared to leave. Hermione had Pillow, Heimdal, Snickers, and Sparky already leashed and ready to go home, while Lily carried their belongings and James carried a sleeping Harry. Hermione had wanted to say goodbye to him, but she didn't want to wake the tired boy just for that reason.
Knowing he's safe, was enough for her.
"Thank you for today, Miss Ranger. It was so nice to meet you, really— not how the rumors make you out to be," Lily hugged Hermione, who accepted it carefully.
"Hopefully not in a bad way, I suppose. I also had fun; little Harry is adorable," Hermione said, stepping back to give James a nod of mutual understanding before watching them walk away.
As Hermione watched them depart, a mixture of emotions swirled within her. Meeting Lily, James, and young Harry had unexpectedly stirred both joy and sorrow in her heart.
Despite the bittersweet feelings, she found solace in the warmth of the fading evening sun and the playful antics of the golden retrievers. The simple pleasures of the day had brought a fleeting sense of peace to her troubled mind. As she walked home with her loyal companions, a small smile graced her lips, a testament to the moments of genuine happiness she had experienced, even amidst the tinge of melancholy.
The encounter had been a reminder of the complex layers of her past and the intricate tapestry of her present. Though tinged with poignant memories, she found comfort in the simple joys and the unexpected connections that had brightened her day.
Meeting Harry again, albeit not in the same circumstances but he was happy, safe, and his parents alive and well... meant she did the correct thing. Everybody is alive.
That's what matters.
Notes:
🥺🥺🥺 Hermione please don't cry.
Chapter 5: Second Case: SerendipitySummary:
Is there such a thing as fate? :)
Notes:
Thank you for the kudos and those who are commenting. I love reading them. So let's start the train, shall well? :)
Also since I don't want to butcher french, "«»" will be the indication they'll be speaking french.
Thank you. 😊
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Hermione hums softly as she leisurely swims along the coast, taking in the serene surroundings.
After her meeting with the Potters, she opted for the scenic route to France. Their encounter reminded her to enjoy whatever small things she still had in life before being inevitably pulled back into the mire of obligations.
Upon receiving Isabelle's letter detailing the Veela clan's guarded nature regarding their secrets, she learned that an envoy would be designated to accompany her. Not only to be her guide but to ensure her stay with the clan would be safe and assisted.
She was told to stay in Biarritz while she waited for her envoy and then both of them could go inspect the members with ailments. There was a set time and day of her departure to France and their meeting arrangements, but after thinking it through for a whole weekend, she decided to go a week earlier than planned.
The reasons were that she wanted to get accustomed to the place and the language before her arrival. She thought the experience would teach her basic local mannerisms and proper etiquette, least she bumbles her way into a ticket back home.
So here she was staying in a hotel after dashing in the middle of the night with only one luggage and a satchel with an extension charm.
Hermione told herself that she hadn't visited beaches for a while and went ahead to the nearest one to spend her day. At first, reading a book under the shade of a beach umbrella was pretty nice—relaxing even. But it would defeat the purpose of going to the beach without at least dipping a few times so that's how she got herself floating like a log on a rainforest.
The weather was definitely warmer. The cuisine was a tad bit different but she wouldn't complain, they were delicious anyways.
As she was paddling back to shore, wanting to go back to her shade to get her things when she noticed her familiar blue umbrella and spot being occupied by a stranger, engrossed in "Les Fleurs du Mal." Her book.
Feeling intruded upon, she irritating approached the blonde bird and stood next to her, frowning in check and her hands on her hips while she glared down at her.
"Ahem." Hermione tried to get her attention but the woman raised one bored eye and looked her up and down with an unimpressed snort before going back to her book.
"I said, ahem." This time with more intonation.
The blonde woman barely glanced up at her this time and instead moved the umbrella to her side and ended up hitting Hermione's face with a splutter.
"!" Hermione instinctively pinched her nose, frustration mounting higher in just one move.
Breathe in, Hermione. Don't get riled up. You don't want any issues with the french ministry by scaring off muggles.
She stepped to her other side, away from the umbrella that obstructed her view, and attempted to muster a forced smile in her direction.
«Hello, mademoiselle. I believe you are on my bench and reading my book. Could you please...» Hermione paused, searching for the most appropriate word to use as she was still learning the language. Sometimes, she needed to stop and think carefully before mistakenly saying 'water' somewhere in her sentence. However, before even a minute passed, the woman snorted again with a smirk on her lips, indicating she wasn't reading at all but mocking Hermione's language competency.
This prompted Hermione's eyebrow to twitch with vexation.
«Please get out of my seat,» she blurted out hastily, her voice strained.
The woman finally turned her attention back to Hermione, removing her sunglasses. As she did, her shawl slipped from her shoulders, revealing a stunning white two-piece bikini underneath.
Hermione couldn't help but be taken aback. The woman was undeniably beautiful—fair-skinned with a hint of ivory, her wet blonde hair neatly combed, piercing blue eyes mirroring Hermione's own irritation, and lips so supple they formed a frown akin to a perfectly shaped apple.
"Ahem." This time, it was the blonde woman attempting to redirect Hermione's gaze to meet hers.
Hermione quickly averted her eyes, feeling a slight blush creep onto her cheeks. She wasn't staring!She swears!
«Pervert.» That was the only word she uttered to Hermione as she rose from her chair, chin held high, and strode away with her book.
Hermione snapped out of whatever delirious imagination she had been lost in and hurriedly chased after her to retrieve her tome, which was now slung under the shorter woman's arm.
«Excusez-moi, but this is mine. You can leave it as well,» Hermione stated, her voice now somewhat calmer as they stood facing each other.
The blonde halted her stride— or rather, was halted by Hermione's insistence, turning back with a scowl etched across her features.
Hermione couldn't help but feel a twinge of unfairness; even her scowl looked stunning, which only added to her frustration.
«You English and your need to own things. This book is mine and has been since I was 7,» she declared, her long, nimble finger gripping the opposite end of the book, her eyes flashing dangerously.
However, Hermione was not one to back down. She scoffed and laughed in response, returning the glare. "Prove it because as far as I can remember, I bought this one just two days ago." The woman's expression morphed as if Hermione had said something utterly repulsive, appearing even more offended as she closed the distance between them.
The sudden action caught the brunette off guard, her piercing blue eyes and regal demeanor leaving the brunette reacting before she could think. She instinctively stepped back just as the blonde advanced.
«Step back! I don't want to hurt you,» Hermione yelped as she stumbled, the back of her knee colliding with something solid, sending her sprawling onto her flimsy deckchair. Now seated, she found herself gazing up at the smirking blonde, hands on hips as if posing victoriously.
«If you want to avoid trouble, mind your manners,» the blonde retorted, tossing her hair dramatically before twirling away from the beach.
Hermione was left speechless, questioning herself as doubts flooded her mind. "Did I just let someone walk all over me?" she muttered incredulously. What the hell?!
Hermione reluctantly let go, resigning herself to the fact that her book was now someone else's property.
Yet, a nagging feeling persisted. Why did this woman feel so familiar? Each time she tried to recall her face, it seemed to blur into obscurity. Have they met before?
That's impossible! Hermione prided herself on her remarkable memory, both of past events and present researched. While some details might differ from her original timeline before the time jump, she couldn't forget the events that had been etched into her mind through countless nightmares.
Forgetting would be a disservice.
"But that still doesn't explain why she seems so familiar," she exclaimed in frustration, but ultimately dismissed it as perhaps a fleeting and insignificant encounter not worth dwelling on.
Feeling disheartened by the turn of events, Hermione retrieved her small bag and trudged back to her hotel. However, amidst her walk, she spotted a familiar blue umbrella shade reminiscent of her own and felt compelled to investigate.
Upon approaching, she noticed a book resting on the chair, its cover a mirror image of the one she had lost but had a slightly worn cover. A wide grin spread across Hermione's face as she reached for it, reclaiming it as her own before continuing on to her hotel room.
Sinking into her bed, Hermione prepared to retire for the night when she noticed the blue-covered book resting on her drawer, remembered her earlier idea.
She placed it on her lap and opened the thick cover, she was a little impressed with how neat and well-taken care of it was. Hermione's finger grazed the pages and was surprised to feel it was warm, a scent of flowers deeply ingrained in each nook and pages. Once she reached the botton of the first page and found a childlike scribble.
"Fleur D," Hermione murmured, feeling a sense of daze wash over her.
That's a beautiful name. she mused, lost in idle thoughts.
For a moment, Hermione's head throbbed, causing her to forget the book in her lap until she heard it thud to the ground. However, her focus was consumed by a sharp pain between her eyes and a stabbing sensation in her chest. After what felt like an eternity, the discomfort subsided, leaving her gasping for breath as if she had been deprived of air.
"What was that?" Hermione pondered, but the answer eluded her.
Once she had regained her composure, she carefully returned the book to the drawer and retired for the night.
That evening, Hermione drifted into an uneasy sleep, unable to recall her dreams upon awakening, only to find dried tears on her cheeks come morning
Hermione made a decision to visit the library on Wednesday, though she couldn't help but acknowledge the lack of originality in the stereotype. Hermione the bookworm. The muggle witch who lives in the library.
She rolled her eyes at the memory of those insults, though begrudgingly admitted there was some truth to it—well, not the living in the library part—but you get the idea.
But going to France and not even taking a look at some of them would be a crime in her dictionary. That was why she plans on sneakily making a copy of those books she found lovely. Maybe in the future she can also ask someone in the French Ministry if she can peruse their restricted section.
Hope to Merlin, they wouldn't kill her once they found out, she might steal some of them.
The brunette had been wandering for hours, searching for the shelves that held the recommended books her friend had asked her to buy. Still not entirely accustomed to French, she struggled to navigate the labyrinthine aisles. Eventually, she surrendered to her frustration and decided to ask some help.
Overall though, the library was surprisingly deserted. She looked and looked and found the first person after half an hour. A blonde woman sat at a table cluttered with papers, engrossed in her writing.
Hermione sighed with relief. Finally!
Approaching the woman with a hopeful smile, she cleared her throat and gently tapped her shoulder.
«Hello, mademoiselle. I am looking for the literature section; would you mind helping me with the direc—» Hermione's smile faded as the woman turned, and a familiar scowl met her gaze.
«Oh, it's you again, Pervert,» the woman scoffed, rolling her eyes at Hermione's shocked expression. «Just turn left at the fourth shelves, and you'll find the literature section. Now shoo,» she added dismissively, before turning her back and returning to her work.
As the woman's words sank in, Hermione's annoyance resurfaced as if it had never left.
«Stop calling me a pervert, you know I'm not,» Hermione retorted, her frustration evident.
«Oh, I'm sorry. I think the better term is stalker,» the woman teased, causing Hermione's temper to flare once more. She felt her twitching eyebrow back again.
«I! You!» Hermione sputtered, struggling to form a coherent sentence in her frustration. «I—I'm not stalking you! I've been here since the library opened,»
This time, the woman's hand paused mid-motion before she turned to face Hermione, pulling her chair closer to get a better look. Her eyes narrowed as she scrutinized Hermione.
«Hmm. Well, you do look the part,» she remarked, leaning back to assess Hermione's appearance.
«Like what?» Hermione asked irritated.
«Like a librarian who had fifty cats and feeds ducklings on weekend because they don't have a life outside of the library,» she replied with finality.
Hermione was at a loss for words, but after a moment, her retort came. «You sound so bitter one might think your boyfriend dumped you for another woman,» She fired back, surprising herself with the sharpness of her response. She wasn't about to tolerate insults without offering a bit of her own free service.
The woman's expression shifted from mocking confidence to offense, eliciting a smirk from Hermione as their roles reversed.
«What? Hit a nerve there, gorgeous?» The blonde glared and Hermione grin got bigger.
«No one dumps me. I'm the one who does the dumping. But I understand your confusion, considering you might never have been in a relationship it would seem. I pity you.» Her blue eyes turned sad, seeming like she was sad for her misfortune while this just seemed silly to Hermione.
«Fine. You win, you insufferable woman,» Hermione muttered under her breath, knowing this wouldn't end if she stayed. She got what she wanted anyway.
Before leaving, Hermione glanced back at the smirking French woman, who sat with her legs crossed and hands clasped on her knees, exuding the air of a child who had gotten away from her little crimes.
"Anyway, if you're trying to learn about the Grimestalk plague, try reading under Deplesium by Gunhilda de Gorsemoor, released back in 1120, 2nd edition." She didn't utter this in French, intending to offer both assistance and obstruction to the witch's research.
Hermione noted the woman's words on her parchment, and the book title immediately sprang to her mind. It dawned on Hermione that the woman was indeed a witch; otherwise, a charm would have concealed the true context of those tomes. Additionally, she realized that the blonde woman was delving into a plague from centuries ago, information likely absent from later renditions of history books. Consequently, all the references spread across the woman's table were essentially useless.
However, extending an olive branch to someone who had judged her based on her appearance didn't sit well with Hermione. Yet, departing without attempting to help felt equally unsatisfactory. Therefore, she opted for the middle ground: blurting out a book title and offering her best wishes before making her exit.
Hermione left without a single glance, her eyes quickly scanning on the plates situated besides each row. Following the blonde's directions, she found herself redirected to the science section.
The disappointment never came though as Hermione was more surprised at herself for even believing that woman.
Abandoning her search, she decided to go to nice place with a pond instead to relax her mind from that exhausting encounter, the thought of feeding ducks does sound lovely but wasn't sure if it's illegal in this country. So she went to ask locals.
Hermione decided to visit Place Cachée on Friday, seizing the opportunity to stock up on potions and ingredients before heading to the Veela clan's secret location.
Similar to Diagon Alley, Place Cachée boasted a variety of shops and cafes tailored specifically for magical folk. But since the smells does tend to overboard Hermione's sense when people buy magic objects from stores to stores, it does leave her a bit overstimulated with the different and surplus amount of them so she wore a simple black mask over her large cloak.
Her first stop on the journey was Dr. Aziz Branchiflore, where she intended to stock up on ingredients she had last used during the summer. Having prepared a list beforehand, she handed it over to the man in charge, who set about gathering the necessary items with his own brand of magic. However, given the unique nature of some of her ingredients, it would take some time to procure them. Hermione was instructed to wait patiently and explore the store in the meantime, in case anything else caught her eye.
Thanking the man, she took her advice and went around the giant store eyeing everything possible.
Hermione was browsing the scales section of the shelves when she caught wind of an argument brewing behind her, punctuated by the unmistakable clacking of heels.
Curious, she made her way towards the commotion, now able to discern the voices more clearly. «I am so sorry, truly I am... but our last stock of Wormflobber has been bought by an English witch already,» the voice belonged to none other than the owner, Aziz Branchiflore, profusely apologizing to someone.
«Well, I am prepared to pay more than her. Just give me the price,» came the response from the customer, a voice Hermione found vaguely familiar and undeniably irksome, prompting her feet to move almost instinctively.
When she rounded around the corner, she found herself meeting a very disgruntled blonde french bird.
«I apologize, but I have my own integrity to uphold; once my products have been sold, I cannot recharge another even if you would pay me more,» he explained rather pointedly.
«I know, Monsieur Branchiflore, but this is an emergency. You know which house I belong to; I would never haggle if it's not needed. Please!» Hermione leaned in, casting a glance at the woman, her urge to chuckle was very much palpable in her face.
Mr. Aziz finally noticed her presence behind the blonde and waved his hand to indicate she should handle the situation. «I will do no such thing, but if the customer is willing to forfeit the purchase, I will do so happily.»
«Then where are they?»
"Behind you, Fleur," Hermione said, her tone teasing.
The woman named Fleur twirled to face Hermione, her hair fluttering as she did so. For a moment, Hermione was taken aback. Fleur's dark green dress perfectly complemented her temperament, enhancing the natural makeup she wore, although she hardly needed it. Her hair was styled in a loose braid that could make any passing man stare.
She just feels a bit disappointed that she can't stare at her calm face for more than a few seconds before her scowl, frown and mocking stare would pervades in it's place.
«You again!» Fleur's face betrayed her bafflement at seeing Hermione. «Why are you everywhere?!»
Hermione rolled her eyes. «I am not everywhere. I am where I am supposed to be, and it just so happens that you are there too. So please, don't tell me I'm a stalker because apparently, I got here before you did. That's why I got to the Wormflobber first.» With that, she stopped leaning on the shelves and walked closer to Fleur— if that was even her real name.
Hermione looked down at her and raised a competitive eyebrow. «Oh, by the way, I will not give it to you either.»
She looked pissed as Hermione told her this which made her feel happy she got some payback.
«How much?»
«Excuse me?»
Now it was the blonde's turn to roll her eyes. «I asked how much you are willing to offer for the Wormflobber?»
«You must not know French. I already said I won't give it to you,» Hermione replied challengingly. The blonde stepped closer, bringing their faces inches apart. So close even Hermione mask did not block the sweet scent of dew on her.
«Fine, have it your way... If money does not suffice, then do you want my body?» The shorter woman's eyes gleamed with an unsettling intensity, sending a shiver down Hermione's spine. A buzzing feeling gripped the brunette's mind like a whip.
The French woman stood on her toes and whispered into Hermione's ear, "I have seen how you looked at me before," her perfect English catching Hermione off guard. The influence felt stronger now, entangling her body.
"Just sell me the thing I want," she pleaded, her voice laced with an irresistible allure.
Where had she felt this before?
But she didn't have any time to wonder because Hermione released her own magic and got out of the thrall in one breath. Shocking both of them for different reason.
Hermione's expression turned serious as she stepped back, her hand firmly grasping the woman's shoulder to keep her still. She could sense that Fleur had done something she shouldn't have, and the guilt written on her face only confirmed Hermione's suspicions.
«This is a waste of time,» the blonde stated firmly.
The shorter woman tturned to walk away, making her way towards the exit, but Hermione let out a loud sigh. «I don't need it anymore, Monsieur Branchiflore. I seem to remember that I actually have a few more with me, so please take it off the list,» She made sure her voice was loud enough for Fleur to hear as her heel stopped abruptly.
«Of course, mademoiselle. I'll have it ready shortly,» Mr. Branchiflore responded dutifully.
As Hermione prepared to return to the scale aisle, she caught a small "thank you" from behind her. She peeked at the blonde to see her looking at the floor, cheeks red but was still pouting. Hermione might have thought she was cute if she was more honest.
Once Hermione had gathered all her ingredients, she noticed that Fleur was still waiting, courtesy of Hermione being served first. With a pointed look, Hermione bid her farewell. "Till next time, Fleur," she waved, before apparating away.
As she disappeared, she heard Fleur's voice calling out, "How did you know my name?!" However, she was already gone before she could respond.
Hermione chuckled, finding herself in a good mood the whole day. It seemed that the woman had finally caught on to Hermione's subtle reference to her name. She wondered if the woman would eventually connect the dots.
"Although I never managed to return her book," she mused aloud as she lay on her bed that night, "and I'll be leaving soon." With a shrug, she added, "Forget it. She has mine anyway. If she wants her book back, she'll have to return mine first. But if we never meet again, then I guess that's it."
Hermione was impeccably dressed, feeling crisp and refreshed as she prepared to meet her envoy - her partner and guide for her stay with the Delacour and Veela clan.
Initially, she hadn't been looking forward to this encounter. Isabelle had sprung the issue on her out of nowhere. But now that she was here, Hermione realized she had the opportunity not only will she get some sustanance if it's proven but also to gather insider information about one of the most secretive clans in the world. Some part of her, the ever-inquisitive part, was still functioning well.
She found herself at Griffon Buveur, the designated meeting place mentioned in the letter. A wizarding bar located on Rue Girardon in Paris. A very lovely cafe. She only order espresso and a small cake, oftentimes staring at her watch.
"They said 11, but it's already 11:30. Did I mess up the dates again?" Hermione mused, considering checking the letter once more, when she heard the unmistakable clanking of heels approaching, accompanied by the scent of dew so close by...
...and then Hermione heard that voice.
"I'm so sorry for being late, I had to retrieve something important and I-" The woman walked past Hermione to sit in front of her, and the moment their eyes met, they were both struck by surprise and bafflement.
"You!" They exclaimed simultaneously.
Hermione knew immediately that this case was going to be a very long one.
Notes:
I miss writing romance fic. Hahahaha. I am bad at muti-tasking so this is what you got. Half supernatural, half romance and half mystery.
Also, this is my last update for now, next week I will be out of town so I can't post. but still I like hearing from you guys. Cheers and be safe.