Chapter 2
It started with a zipper. A simple, innocent zipper that, in Fleur Delacour's eyes, became the harbinger of doom. The townhouse was quiet that afternoon, save for the faint hum of Hermione's charmed kettle in the kitchen. Fleur's dramatic outburst shattered the peace.
"Hermione!" Fleur's voice carried through the walls, tinged with urgency and despair. "Come here immediately!"
Hermione, halfway through pouring tea, froze mid-action. That tone—the unmistakable mix of command and impending disaster—had become all too familiar. Sighing, she set her cup down, grabbed her wand, and ascended the stairs, already bracing herself for whatever calamity awaited.
The scene in the bedroom was one for the ages. Fleur stood before the full-length mirror, dressed in a sleek black gown that stubbornly refused to cooperate. The zipper was stuck halfway up, gaping open like a rebellious house-elf defying its master. Fleur's silver-blonde hair gleamed in the sunlight, and her expression oscillated between fury and despair.
"This," Fleur announced, gesturing dramatically at the zipper, "is a catastrophe. A tragedy of epic proportions. My dress, my favorite dress, has turned against me. It is treason."
Hermione leaned against the doorframe, struggling to suppress her amusement. "Maybe it's not the dress's fault?" she ventured cautiously, noticing how it got tight in all the right places. She had noticed Fleurs chest and hips a bit fuller in the last few weeks and was loving it.
Fleur turned, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. "What are you implying?"
"Nothing," Hermione said quickly, raising her hands in mock surrender. "Just that maybe… it's time to retire this dress? You've had it for years." She said carefully
"Retire?" Fleur gasped, clutching the fabric as though Hermione had suggested she throw a Monet into the bin. "This dress is a classic! It is timeless! It is…" She trailed off, smoothing her hands over her hips. "It is supposed to fit me."
Hermione sighed and stepped closer, her tone softening. "Fleur, your body changes over time. It doesn't mean anything bad. You're still gorgeous—more than gorgeous."
"Non," Fleur said firmly, waving her hand dismissively. "This is sabotage. Clearly, I have been cursed." She turned back to the mirror, her hands moving to her fuller hips and softened stomach. "Perhaps a jealous goblin at Gringotts hexed me. That would explain… this." She gestured at the zipper, her tone growing more conspiratorial. "They must have slipped something into my tea. It is the only explanation."
Hermione's laughter spilled out before she could stop it. "Fleur, I promise you, no one has hexed you. Let me help."
With an air of resigned dignity, Fleur turned back to the mirror, allowing Hermione to take hold of the zipper. Hermione tugged gently, then with more force. The zipper refused to budge.
"It's stuck," Hermione admitted, her voice thick with suppressed laughter. "Maybe… maybe we should try another dress?"
Fleur groaned, throwing her head back in exaggerated misery. "This is the end of the world," she declared. "How am I to show my face in public?."
"You are the most beautiful person I've ever seen, and no tight dress is going to change that." She said smiling.
The sincerity in Hermione's voice gave Fleur pause. She glanced at her reflection again, the storm clouds in her expression softening. "You really think so?"
"I know so," Hermione said, stepping closer and wrapping her arms around Fleur's waist. "But if it bothers you so much, we can always work on it together. You know, diet, exercise—"
"Exercise?" Fleur interrupted, her expression scandalized. "Veelas do not exercise. We do not need to exercise."
Hermione couldn't hold back her grin. "You're twenty-five percent Veela, Fleur. That leaves seventy-five percent of you entirely human, and humans need to move a bit."
Fleur crossed her arms, her lips twitching with reluctant amusement. "Fine. But no running. Running is for emergencies and undomesticated animals."
"Deal," Hermione said, pulling back to retrieve her wand. With a flick, she charmed the zipper open, freeing Fleur from the offending garment. "Now, why don't we find something else for you to wear?"
The rest of the afternoon was spent with Fleur trying on every dress in her wardrobe.. By the time they finally settled on an outfit, Fleur's mood had improved significantly, though not without a few more proclamations of doom.
Afterwards they started to get the house ready for their friends visit.
Later that night, the townhouse was alive with activity. Hermione had spent the afternoon tidying up the living room and arranging an impressive assortment of magical and Muggle board games on the coffee table. Fleur, having finally recovered from her earlier dress debacle, now stood in the kitchen arranging charcuterie with the precision of an artist.
"Are you sure this is enough food?" Fleur called out, inspecting the platter critically. Her silver-blonde hair shimmered under the warm kitchen lights, and her perfectly tailored outfit showed no evidence of the earlier drama.
"It's more than enough," Hermione replied, carrying an extra stack of coasters into the living room. "We've got snacks, drinks, and games—what more could anyone want?"
"Better friends who don't make such a mess," Fleur muttered under her breath, though a playful smile tugged at her lips. "Last time, Ron spilled Butterbeer on my silk rug."
"And you forgave him," Hermione said, grinning. "Eventually."
Hermione crossed the room, placing a hand lightly on Fleur's waist as she peered over at the charcuterie board. "It looks perfect," she said softly. "You're amazing."
Fleur's lips curved into a small smile, and she leaned slightly into Hermione's touch. "You say that now. Wait until Ron starts eating."
The Floo flared to life in the next room, and Hermione heard the unmistakable voice of Luna Lovegood. "Hello, Hermione! Fleur! I brought snacks!"
Hermione turned to see Luna stepping out of the hearth, wearing a flowing dress adorned with glittering moons and stars. Rolf Scamander followed, carrying a small crate that emitted faint chirping sounds.
"Luna, Rolf, come in!" Hermione said warmly. She glanced at the crate. "What's in there?"
"Baby bowtruckles," Rolf said proudly. "Don't worry, they're very friendly. Mostly."
"Lovely," Fleur said with an exaggerated calm, placing the charcuterie board on the coffee table. "Just what we needed for a relaxing evening."
"Relaxing? With this crowd?" Ginny's voice carried over the hum of the Floo as she stepped through, Harry trailing behind her. Ginny's eyes swept over Fleur, lingering a moment too long on her chest before she smirked. "Fleur, you look incredible. Alright, spill. What's the spell?"
Fleur's cheeks flushed faintly as she waved a hand dismissively. "It's not a spell, Ginny. But thank you."
Hermione caught Fleur's hand as she moved past, intertwining their fingers briefly before Fleur continued toward the living room. Ginny watched the exchange with a knowing grin, but Hermione ignored it.
The Floo roared again, and this time Bill stepped out, arm-in-arm with a striking brunette. "Hey, everyone," he said, flashing his trademark grin. "This is Ella. Ella, meet the chaos."
"Welcome, Ella," Fleur said warmly, stepping forward to greet her brother-in-law's companion. "Don't let them frighten you."
"We're not that bad," Ron said as he emerged next, pulling a nervous-looking woman into the room. "This is Clara," he announced. "Be nice, everyone."
Clara offered a tentative wave, her wide eyes taking in the roomful of faces. Hermione quickly stepped in to ease her nerves. "Clara, it's lovely to meet you. Come in, make yourself at home."
Fleur appeared beside Hermione, her presence grounding. "We don't bite. Well, most of us don't," she said with a teasing smile, casting a quick glance at Ron, earning a round of chuckles.
Soon, the room was filled with laughter and the clinking of glasses as the guests settled in. Luna had already claimed a spot on the floor, arranging the board games into a pyramid that made little practical sense.
"We should start with Gobstones," she said dreamily. "It's the best way to set the tone."
"The tone for what?" Ron asked suspiciously.
"Chaos," Luna replied, as though it were obvious.
Predictably, Gobstones ended in a mess, with Neville and Seamus narrowly dodging a spray of foul-smelling goo. Fleur, sitting next to Hermione on the sofa, sighed and flicked her wand to clean the rug. "Every time," she muttered, leaning back against Hermione, who wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
Next came Muggle Scrabble, which turned into an intense debate when Luna insisted that "nargle" was a legitimate word. To everyone's surprise, Fleur defended her.
"If 'quidditch' is allowed, why not 'nargle'?" Fleur said, arching a brow at Ron, who looked ready to protest.
"It's not in the dictionary!" Ron argued, waving his hands in frustration.
"Neither was 'firebolt' until they invented it," Fleur countered smoothly, earning a round of laughter.
Hermione watched the exchange with a fond smile. She leaned closer to Fleur and murmured, "You're brilliant, you know that?"
Fleur smirked, her gaze flicking to Hermione. "You're not wrong."
By the time Exploding Snap rolled around, Harry had claimed victory, and Ginny had crowned herself "Queen of Scrabble" after beating Hermione in a rare upset. Clara, however, had mysteriously disappeared halfway through the evening, leaving Ron sheepishly muttering excuses.
As the night wound down, Hermione found herself watching Fleur. She was perched elegantly on the armrest of the sofa, deep in conversation with Bill and Ella. Her cheeks were flushed from laughter, and her hair glowed in the warm firelight. Hermione felt a surge of affection so strong it left her breathless.
Luna, ever observant, sidled up beside her. "She's beautiful, isn't she?" Luna said softly.
Hermione's ears turned pink, but she didn't deny it. "Yes. She is."
By the time the last guest had departed through the Floo, the house was quiet again, save for the crackling of the dying fire. Hermione collapsed onto the sofa with a sigh, her head tilting back against the cushions. Fleur joined her, slipping gracefully into her lap.
"Well?" Fleur asked, her tone light. "Did everyone have fun?"
"I think so," Hermione said, smiling up at her. "Even Ron, once he realized Clara wasn't coming back."
Fleur chuckled, her fingers playing idly with a strand of Hermione's hair. "And you, ma chérie?"
"I always have fun with you," Hermione said sincerely.
Fleur's lips quirked into a small smile. "Good," she said, leaning down to kiss Hermione gently. "Next time, we win Scrabble."
Hermione laughed, pulling Fleur closer as the firelight flickered around them. The night had been chaotic, unpredictable, and utterly perfect—just like their life together.