Title: Domestic(ated) Tranquility
Author: shyath
Feedback address: shyath@aim.com
Date in Calendar: 20 June 2009
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Fleur/Hermione
Rating: M
Word Count: 1130
Advertisement: Part of the FSAC:DD09

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and places belong to JK Rowling. No infringement or monetary gain intended.

Note: The characters are well above the legal age of consent. The characters and storyline follow my Fleur/Hermione series, which can be found in my LJ account. It is otherwise fine as a one-shot. Enjoy the story.

“Sweetheart, what do you think?”

Being a woman, Hermione Granger had mistakenly believed that the technicalities of Sapphic relations would be a matter of instinct. It had taken her three nights on the couch before she learned the correct response when asked such a question by a spouse. “Stunning, absolutely stunning,” Hermione intoned perfectly, running her eyes appreciatively down the length of Fleur’s body. Though she was infinitely aided by the fact that Fleur looked inhumanly gorgeous in most everything the fashion industry deigned fit to churn out for the season, or any season for that matter.

“Really?” Fleur murmured uncertainly, a glint in her eyes and a pout on her lips as she picked at the dress’ impossibly high slit that did a marvellous job of exposing a dangerously indecent amount of flawless skin.

Fleur was standing near enough that Hermione could reach a finger out to touch the bare skin tempting her so. “Really,” she purred, tugging at the flimsy material of the dress and urging Fleur to come nearer.

Fleur walked forward and arched an eyebrow at Hermione. “How stunning?” she asked in a tone that sounded like a challenge.

“Positively delectable,” Hermione whispered, licking her lower lip as if for show. She had a hand firmly splayed across Fleur’s outer thigh underneath the slit of the dress, drawing circles on the naked skin with her thumb and even more if events took a turn for the better. Her imagination was going too fast for her to decide which scenario to enact. Not that she was complaining.

“Show me,” Fleur murmured, bending down to hover her lips over Hermione’s.

“Here?” Hermione asked, snapping her head to look around at the other patrons in the Muggle store they had chosen to pass time before their lunch date with their friends and family in a nearby restaurant.

“Is something wrong with showing me here?” Fleur asked, sounding very serious and slightly disappointed. She had drawn back and had her arms now crossed over her chest. The view of Fleur’s impressive cleavage the dress had afforded Hermione (and the world, her mind added snidely) was now concealed. I am so buying that dress for her, Hermione decided then and there, but now to the matter at hand.

“No!” Hermione responded automatically. She lowered her voice after that, feeling the slightly unfriendly stares of the other patrons. “Well, yes. We’re in a public place, dear.”

“Last time I checked, it wasn’t that much of a problem,” Fleur murmured, clearly on her way to a full-out tantrum. The quarter-Veela might very well be the elder of the two and she had her moments of absolute maturity, but there were times when she was too much in tune with her inner child for Hermione’s comfort. Though Fleur was right, they had had sex in public before and she was not quite sure why she was bothered by it this time. She loved Fleur and she knew very well Fleur loved her. They had survived three years together, ever since Hermione left Ron and Fleur left Bill, and while they had had their fair share of fights (both the verbal and physical sorts), they had managed to pull through just fine. To start a fight over such a small issue would be pointless.

“Honey, we’re meeting your sister and her girlfriend, not to mention my best friend and her girlfriend, in less than an hour and you want to have sex in a Muggle changing room?” Hermione enunciated clearly, as if she were trying to understand something a horribly obtuse child had tried to impart to her.

“That is about the gist of it.” Fleur puffed her cheeks rather adorably.

“Sweetheart -”

Fleur turned promptly and headed back into the changing room. Hermione was a little relieved that she had decided to drop it, but she was completely mistaken. With the door handle in her hand, Fleur paused in the doorway, looked over one shoulder and shot Hermione with her most smouldering ‘come-hither’ look that had yet to fail her. Judging by the gobsmacked look on Hermione’s face and her hurried motion to stand up and follow, it had once again delivered.

Hermione sighed, but smiled as she allowed herself to be pulled into the changing room with Fleur. She simply had to apologise profusely for any untoward noises they would inevitably be responsible for. The two of them were loud separately, but together … Let’s just say the neighbours thought the free earplugs they distributed a week after moving into their flat were heaven-sent.


“You were so wet,” Fleur whispered, running her hand scandalously close to Hermione’s groin as she sat herself down next to Hermione.

Hermione blushed furiously and ignored Ginny’s inquiring look. “What’s that about not talking ever about it again?” she hissed back, squeezing Fleur’s hand a little too tightly for it to be considered loving.

“I bet they didn’t expect you to suddenly begin to recite the twelve uses of dragon’s blood when I did that to your -”


“Though you did stop when I started to -”

“Baby, for the love of all the deities you believe or do not believe in, I love you, but I swear to Merlin, shut up.”

Fleur went on nonetheless, “But when you crashed so hard against the wall that it fell on the lady next door -”

“Fleur darling,” Hermione grated out, smiling with too much teeth at Fleur, “drop it.” In the quietest whisper she could manage, she said, “Or it’ll be the couch for you for a week.”

Fleur’s mouth clamped shut, but it was obvious that the other four women at the table had heard enough to draw conclusion.

“So,” Ginny tried cheerfully, though she was flushed as she tried to maintain eye contact with Hermione.

“Yeah, so, uhm,” Tonks started as well. Both attempts by the more well-meaning friends failed spectacularly.

Hermione should have known better than be relieved when neither Pansy nor Gabrielle had started speaking in response. When they did, all she could do was drop her face against the table and drown out the noise. She figured stabbing her tablemates with the silverware would be rather unsightly.

“I didn’t peg you for the loud type, Hermione,” Pansy said in a most civil tone. It was as if she were dealing one of her business transactions.

“Oh, I always knew you had some wild blood underneath all that boring surface,” Gabrielle said rather saucily. “Why, Tonks herself -”


“Yeah, I don’t need to hear about what my sister does or did, or who she does or did. You get the picture.”

“Then maybe we should go with Pansy instead -”


This is going to be a long, long lunch, Hermione thought.