Hermione’s twenty-fifth birthday is a disaster.
She’s been in a rotten mood for the last month. Fleur and her are off instead of on at the moment. The most recent fight had led to Fleur storming out of their flat.
Fleur’s last words before the door closed was to inform Hermione that she would be cursing her. It seemed like a spiteful thing to say—the kind of thing Fleur would say to be mean without actually intending to follow through.
Then September happened.
Fleur has not spoken to her since she stormed out calling Hermione a complete and utter asshole.
Everything that could blow up, has.
Every worst case situation that could happen, has.
Harry and Ron were called away on a case so she doesn’t even have them to turn to.
Her office is muggy and smells like cheese. The air conditioning has been broken for two weeks.
Pansy files her nails. The stack of paperwork is untouched in front of her—just as it was yesterday. “She cursed you, Hermione.” Pansy says. Pansy doesn’t even attempt to inject emotion into her tone.
Hermione’s palms press into her eyes. “I am beginning to believe that.”
The awful sound of the nail file continues without a break. Hermione hates the grittiness of it. The sound makes her feel on edge.
It’s been like this every day since their fight.
Pansy was hired as clerical the next day, lines take triple the time they used to, every report gets cocked up, her tea is always cold, she can never get comfortable in bed, her food is never right, and every case becomes a headache.
Her reputation as the best newcomer in the Department of Magical Creature Regulation gets thrown in the trash. She’s known as the shit storm.
If she’s attached to a case, it becomes needlessly complicated.
“Just apologize to her.” Pansy advises.
Hermione scowls. “I’m not the one in the wrong, she is.”
Pansy laughs and it isn’t a nice sound. “Who cares about right when your life is one mess after another.”
“I will suffer however many cold drinks it takes until Fleur admits she’s wrong.”
Their supervisor walks in and Pansy doesn’t even twitch to act like she’s paying attention. Hermione groans—regretting ever meeting Fleur—and Grant smiles sheepishly. “What now?” Pansy asks.
“Leo is kicking his vampire case to you.” Grant doesn’t try to sugarcoat it.
The Morrigan Coven case has resulted in several deaths, it’s politically charged, and it has never made it through the process. It’s essentially doomed.
Hermione doesn’t bother asking Grant if this went through all the proper channels. Of course the proper channels wouldn’t work when she needs them to but she has no doubt this will have checked every box.
Pansy starts laughing. “You are going to get fired.”
Hermione glares at Pansy.
Grant evacuates the room while he still can.
“It’s not just cold drinks. If you don’t get that curse taken care of you will be fired. I’ll probably end up with your job.”
Hermione tries to ignore Pansy and focus on reading through the case notes. A piece of the chair is poking in her back in an uncomfortable way.
The case is the exact mess that she’s been dealing with for the last month. There’s lazy reports, inaccurate statements, and clearly misinformation throughout.
Plus, the mysterious disappearances. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out anyone who could help disappears. Specifically, anyone outside of the coven. It’s led to witnesses recanting their statements and being generally unwilling to cooperate.
It’s completely isolated the coven from outside help and made her job infinitely harder. She has a large and powerful coven lodging several complaints about their case not being taken seriously but only one report to back up their claims and few witnesses.
She hates her job sometimes.
She stands up and grabs her jacket, sliding it on.
The seam splits at her right armpit. Pansy snorts.
Hermione forgoes the ripped jackets.
“I’m going to go to the vampire’s estate.”
Pansy grunts. “Have fun getting eaten.”
Hermione is not going to get eaten. Fleur’s curse—and Hermione is certain that she is cursed at this point—has only been benign issues.
The estate is an old stone building off to the side of what is essentially a magical swap meet. Hermione approaches the property and the gate swings open for her. She supposes that’s as good of a welcome as any.
The door is ornate. It’s black against the washed out white of the stone. She knocks on the door and it slowly opens. They’re big on theatrics.
The estate itself is poorly lit. Drapes cover windows and run along the walls. The furniture is as ornate as the door. The carpeting is old fashioned and bold. It’s not cheap.
Vampires loiter around the entry halfway—curious about the visitor. She has met a few vampires before and they’ve never been like this.
She didn’t realize how much they were trying to mesh into wizarding society. They dressed down, they were muted, everything was meant to disarm. They’re novelties in the wizarding world—the well behaved dark creatures. They’re all truly themselves here.
There’s eight vampires that Hermione can see in the hallway. They’re all elaborately dressed but it’s nothing like wizard fashion. In fact, it’s nearly the opposite.
None of them are muted or simpering. They’re predators in their own home, in their territory. Their gazes are dark and heavy—watching Hermione’s every micro movement.
The closest vampire has long wavy hair and a dusky pink ensemble. She looks like she should be inviting—friendly—but the blood around her mouth and look she’s giving Hermione is anything but.
“Is Morrigan here?” Hermione asks and the vampires murmur.
“Who’s looking for her?” The nearest vampire asks. She runs her finger over Hermione’s arm.
She hopes Pansy was just being an ass and she won’t actually get eaten.
“Hermione Granger, I’m with Creature Regulation.”
Hisses bounce off the walls. “What are you doing here?” They are a lot less friendly now. They weren’t all that friendly to begin with. The vampire’s trailing fingers have turned to nails pressed against Hermione’s arm.
She will not be eaten.
Into the fire. Hermione has never shied away from a situation before. She’s never flinched at a cass. She won’t start now.
“I’ve been assigned your case and I’m here to correct some facts.”
A hearty laughter beats through the air and all hostility ceases. The vampires turn towards the sound. “Correct some facts? My, what a savvy way to put it.” The woman’s voice is deep and she’s probably one of the most beautiful women that Hermione has ever seen.
She—like the house around them—is a dark image.
She’s tall—taller than most women. She fills out her frame and cuts a striking image. Dark hair, dark clothes, and a hint of anger behind her eyes.
It’s well buried from most but Hermione is not most.
“Morrigan.” Hermione gathers.
“I am she. You’re Hermione Granger. Your name has fallen from the lips of many of our visitors.”
“Will you meet with me?”
Morrigan gestures around the hall. “We are meeting.”
The slight is obvious. She doesn’t respect Hermione or the ministry enough to invite Hermione to a private audience or beyond the entryway. “We will be discussing the sensitives of this case.” Hermione warns Morrigan.
“My coven knows all. We—unlike yours—do not hide the truth.” The venom is strong enough to scorch.
“Let’s get started then. I see you’ve lobbied the ministry over the incident on June—”
“And the incident from August.” Another vampire cuts in, taking a spot next to Morrigan.
She’s smaller than Morrigan but her shoulda are set with confidence. She has a challenging look that Morrigan does not. Morrigan looks like she wants to end this as quickly as possible, this new vampire looks like she wants to draw it out.
To what ends, Hermione isn’t sure.
She must be in high regards in the coven because she stands next to Morrigan like an equal. A co-leader. Their files only mention Morrigan.
They don’t mention anything about an incident in August.
Hermione’s eyes narrow. “There is only one incident from June.”
She feels a Fleur induced headache coming on.
“We reported an assault in August.” The unknown vampire says. The hostility is back and the assembled vampires are on edge.
Hermione read the case cover to cover. She knows there was no report from August in it.
Hermione pulls out a notebook and pen.The vampire who has not taken her hand off of Hermione briefly tightens her grip at Hermione’s sudden movements but then relaxes. She saunters behind Hermione and rests her chin on Hermione’s shoulder—peeking at the notebook. Hermione is pretty sure she had to go on her toes to accomplish this.
She’s also rather sure this vampire serves as a guard of sorts.
“Who did you report it to? What exactly happened? No—let’s start at the very beginning.”
The vampire’s thumb brushes over the side of her neck and Hermione just knows she’s looking at her throat.
Fucking Fleur.
She will not get eaten because Fleur can’t admit to being in the wrong.
Fleur has to realize she’s wrong. She’s just too stubborn to actually admit it. Instead, she’ll curse her long term girlfriend. Well, they may not exactly be girlfriends at the moment. It’s always so unclear during their off times if it still counts as girlfriends.
Hermione knows despite her sheer indignation, she loves Fleur. She still considers Fleur her girlfriend even if she can’t stand her at the moment and they haven’t spoken for a month.
The case provides a distraction from how much she misses her girlfriend on her birthday.
Four incidents over the last six months and the Department of Magical Creature Regulation only has one half assed report. Hermione feels her blood boil with rage. She isn’t sure if it’s incompetence or injustice.
Morrigan and Lucienne—the apparent co-leader no one mentioned—do end up inviting her in to sit when they see the brewing warpath in her eyes. Hermione always loves a good righteous anger. They offer her wine but she politely declines. They actually become pleasant once they realize she’s taking it seriously.
Lacey stays by her side even when they start to relax. She lounges on the side of the chair and presses against Hermione’s side.
Hermione isn’t sure if it’s for seduction, intimidation, or both. Morgana, she misses Fleur.
She leaves with a clearer story and a lot more annoyed than when she started. She storms into the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and grabs the first supervisor she finds.
His eyes widen at Hermione Granger of all people physically accosting him. He wisely doesn’t speak when he catches sight of her expression.
She also gets the auror who’s taken the reports. She doesn’t grab him but the supervisor—Clint—tells him to join them. “I was assigned the Morrigan Coven case.”
“Okay?” He’s obviously annoyed. Aurors usually think they’re better than the rest of the ministry,
“You haven’t turned in three of your reports.”
He scowls and crosses his arms. “You haven’t asked for them.”
It’s the cockiness and superiority that nearly gives her a coronary. He’s wrong. He’s so blatantly wrong that it’s embarrassing. Yet he’s giving her an attitude.
She sees red but she keeps her calm. The moment she acts like him is the moment she loses ground in this encounter. Clint’s lips thin—he has more sense than the handling auror. He must actually know the policy. “That’s not policy. Policy is that you turn your reports into the correct department in a timely manner—especially with sensitive cases. We do not know there is a crime until you send it in. The Morrigan coven is being harassed and assaulted and we had no bloody idea.”
Hermione cuts herself off before she really bites his head off. She tries deep breathing.
“They’re vampires.” The auror says defensively.
Clint cuts in before Hermione can say the ill advised words resting behind her grit teeth. He pulls the auror back and gives him a severe look. “He’ll get the report to you today.”
“Uh.” The auror awkwardly starts.
Hermione stares at him with absolute loathing. “You haven’t even finished them, have you?”
“Brent. Go write your reports.” Clint looks in pain now.
Hermione cannot believe the utter fuck up of this whole case.
Hermione sends an owl to the Society for the Tolerance of Vampires advising them that they may want to reach out to Morrigan Coven. They ask Hermione to ask Morrigan if that’s something she would like so Hermione has to make the journey again.
She hears the yelling before she enters the house.
Fucking. Fleur.
Gwen—the coven’s previous leader and reason for the entire case—is yelling in Morrigan’s face.
Morrigan’s arms are crossed and she has a bored expression but her shoulders are tense.
“Enough!” Hermione breaks into the scene and Morrigan relaxes. Gwen turns her soulless gaze on Hermione.
By the time the skirmish is over, Gwen is knocked unconscious and Hermione is sporting three separate bites.
Fucking Fleur.
Two of the bites weren’t even Gwen. They were from vampires trying to help Hermione and Morrigan.
At least she thinks.
She does find it suspicious that Lacey just happened to accidentally bite her.
Ron shows up with two other aurors and his eyes go wide at the sight of Hermione. “Bloody hell, Hermione. What happened?”
Hermione pulls him aside. “Listen, after I give my statement I’ve got to get back to the office. This isn’t my jurisdiction. This case was messed up by a sloppy auror. Make sure they get help, yeah?”
Ron nods and pats Hermione on the arm. “I’ll get it handled.”
“I know.” Hermione says fondly and Ron smiles back. “When did you get back?”
“An hour ago. They recalled Harry and I because of some issue with reports. Which I’m realizing was this whole mess.”
“Precisely.”
“Hey, ‘Mione? Happy birthday.” Ron says with a crooked little grin.
Hermione laughs at the utter mess of a birthday it is so far. “Thank you, Ronald.”
Hermione looks like a wreck on her way back to the office but she’s too tired to care.
Pansy looks up when she walks in and grins. “Called it.”
Fleur is sitting on her desk. Her feet are propped on her chair and she’s thumbing through a magazine. “Where have you been all day?” Fleur keeps reading the magazine. She sounds annoyed.
“If you told me you were coming I could have been here at a set time.” Hermione reminds her.
Fleur turns a page. “I’m not talking to you.”
Hermione huffs a laugh—too tired for a full laugh. “She says to me.”
Fleur finally looks up to scowl at Hermione but her words freeze in her throat. She looks Hermione up and down several times. “What happened?” Fleur asks with no shortage of bewilderment.
“Your curse has thoroughly fucked Hermione up. I approve.” Pansy is no longer filing her nails. She’s moved onto writing hateful letters to former classmates using ministry stamps.
“Why are you even here?” Fleur asks. Fleur looks at Pansy like dirt. Pansy easily counters the look.
“Your curse, we just talked about it. I know there’s not much going on in that head of yours but try to keep up.” Pansy says and Fleur puffs up.
Hermione presses her fingers against her throat where the bite marks are healing. “You’re bitten.”
“Vampires.” Hermione shrugs and walks past Fleur. “Have you come here to apologize?”
Hermione sits down in her chair and it collapses on her. She doesn’t react. She just continues to sit in it like nothing happened. She raises an eyebrow at Fleur. Fleur covers her mouth and looks away. Hermione sees her shoulders shake until she eventually loses the battle. “I cannot take you seriously on a broken chair.”
“You should stop breaking my things then.” Hermione grumbles.
Fleur offers Hermione a hand to stand and Hermione glares at her. She pulls herself free of the chair wreckage without any grace or Fleur’s help.
They stand face to face, not saying a word. Neither wants to cave first—they’re too stubborn for that.
“It’s Hermione’s birthday. Are you two really going to keep this up?” Pansy interrupts—again. She sounds almost impressed. Hermione questions her actions if Pansy is impressed.
Pansy really was a genius stroke of the curse. She thinks she’d take a year of broken chairs over ten minutes with Pansy.
“She refuses to admit she’s wrong.” Hermione gripes and Fleur sputters.
“I’m wrong? Ha!”
“What happened? I’ll be your uninterested third party.”
Hermione rolls her eyes. “You’re enjoying this.”
“Yep.”
“Hermione left makeup all over the counter and then blamed me.” Fleur airs their dirty laundry.
“It was you! You know it was you!” Hermione spits back.
Pansy lets her stack of hate mail drop on her desk. “No. No fucking way that you homosexuals have been fighting over who left makeup on a counter.”
Hermione and Fleur look at each other. “Is she being homophobic?” Fleur asks.
Hermione makes a seesaw motion with her hand. “She’s gay. She’s dating a French model.”
“Why is that so specific?”
“She figured out we were fighting so she decided to date a blonde French model and invite her over for lunch.”
“To what ends?”
“Drive me up a wall.”
Watching Pansy stick her tongue down a model who looks similar to Fleur during a breakup-fight made Hermione’s blood pressure spike. The fact she hasn’t thrown Pansy out of a window is commendable.
“You know the best part of all of this?” Pansy asks. “I left the makeup on the counter.”
Hermione stares at Pansy without a single thought in her mind. It’s as if all her brain functioning stops for a moment. “What?”
“We know better than to invite demons into our house.” Fleur argues.
“I crashed your party last month. I used your private bathroom. I left the makeup. I’m the reason you’ve been fighting for a month.” Pansy gets more and more gleeful with every word.
Hermione lunges for Pansy. A month of grievances and it all rests at Pansy’s feet. She’s going to kill her.
Fleur’s arms are wrapped tight around her waist. She’s fighting to keep Hermione in place, pulling Hermione away. “Whoa! Down, girl.”
“I’m not a fucking horse, Fleur!”
Hermione’s legs kick Fleur’s shins at least twelve times. “Fuck.” Fleur hisses. “You cannot commit murder in the ministry.”
“I want to. Let me commit ministry murder.” Hermione thinks it’s a solid argument.
Pansy smirks at them. “Happy birthday, Hermione.”
Fleur has to physically drag Hermione out of the room and shove her against the opposing wall. Luckily there’s no one in the hallway to witness this. “Breath, Hermione.”
They stare at each other as Hermione’s rage mellows out. “We didn’t speak for a month because of Pansy fucking Parkinson.”
Fleur grunts, just as displeased. “It is possible that I was hasty in accusing you.” The wall behind Hermione crumbles and she falls halfway into it before Fleur catches her. “…the curse might have been a bit of an overreaction.”
Hermione snorts and then breaks into full bodied laughter. “You actually did curse me.”
Fleur’s cheeks pinken. “I was upset.”
“Why’d you come in today?”
Fleur straightens Hermione’s collar. “I may have been angry and we might have been fighting but it’s your birthday. I heard Harry and Ron weren’t here either.”
“You’ll curse me but won’t let me spend my birthday alone?” Hermione is incredulous.
“Oui, I understand priorities.” Fleur says without shame.
“You’re demented.”
“Oui.” Fleur smirks—looking entirely too proud of herself.
“Can you lift the curse? I’m running out of clothes.”
Fleur laughs and nods. “I will. We can’t have you falling in a puddle while we’re celebrating your birthday.”
“Oh, we’re celebrating now?”
“Yes. No more fighting during birthdays. I missed you.”
“Me too. I just wanted to spend the day with my girlfriend. Instead, her stupid curse got me caught up in departmental issues and an assault.”
Fleur winces. “It is also possible that I should have ended the curse before your birthday.”
Hermione shakes her head. “You think? Let’s make a deal not to fight for longer than a week. We have to talk it out at the week mark.”
“Deal.”
Fleur takes Hermione’s hand. “Come on, let’s go make up and eat cake.”
“Can I invite some friends? The Morrigan coven and I are pretty close now.”
Fleur shakes her head. “No one who bit you is welcome in my home.”
Hermione grins at Fleur. “That excludes half our friends.”
“Hermione!”