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A Case of Hot Tea

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Hermione looked down at the clipboard and frowned. That couldn't be right. She walked back over to the reception area and spoke with the trainee manning the desk. Apparently, her eyes were not deceiving her. How strange. She hadn't heard that name for nearly five years. She looked down again:

Name: Fleur Isabelle Delacour

Room: 338D

Age: 31

Height: 1.75 m

Weight: 61.75 kg

DOB: October 30, 1977

Other: Part-Veela (1/4 – maternal)

Comments: Having abdominal pain. No specified reason or region. Requests personal visit with a female healer.

Dr. Granger was still frowning slightly as she entered room 338D, but that didn't last long before her jaw dropped to the sight before her. Fleur was in a hospital gown and looked—I kid you not—like a bloody runway model was wearing a rag. How could someone look so good in a hospital gown? Her blonde hair was just as silvery-blonde as she remembered it. High cheekbones, perfect skin, and unnaturally blue eyes were looking back at her. Her skin was tanned, and her legs were pressed tightly together.

Fuck.

Hermione always prided herself on professionalism, but Fleur Bloody Delacour was something of a vice for her. She couldn't stand the woman, but God did she want to fuck her. And it wasn't just the looks, if that's what you're thinking. Don't be ridiculous. Hermione Granger didn't do vapid, and she certainly didn't do blonde, bimbo, and beautiful. No, Fleur Bloody Delacour was anything but that, and that is why she hadn't been able to get her out of her head for the last ten years, as much as she had tried.

Fleur was smart. Really smart. She had learned how painfully smart she was her fourth year when she was in the library. Hermione was searching for an advanced textbook on elemental transfiguration, and the blasted veela happened to be scouring through it. In any event, they got to talking about the contents at great length, and the brunette promptly went back to her four-poster bed to relieve some tension that had unceremoniously built up during their conversation. So, yes. That happened. And that also happened to be the first instance Hermione Granger discovered she was attracted to women, but so what? That wasn't impressionable, right?

Fleur also happened to be a brilliant, resourceful witch, as Hermione saw over the coming years. She was incredible in the tournament with her dragon, and from what Harry said she was detrimentally protective of her sister, which made the Gryffindor want to swoon. When she saw her around the Burrow as a part of the Order, Hermione made sure to steer clear of her, absolutely certain she would make an arse of herself in her newly discovered orientation.

The Gryffindor came out almost immediately after the Battle of Hogwarts. Her fling with Ron ended with a whimper, as they say, when she told him she was much more inclined towards the fairer sex. Thankfully, he understood, and quickly recovered as they sped through every woman in their year on a scale on a "hotness," to which he was almost in tears by the end of when he heard Hermione had gone to second base with not only one, but three Slytherin in her fifth and sixth year.

But now, now, Hermione was Dr. Granger, a witch with a magical medical degree who had published some of the most ground-breaking research on the Cruciatus Curse in the past century, earning her an advanced title in the medical field. She spent five years alone on the effects of the torture curse and its effects of the nervous system, but now she preferred to just see patients. She had no intention of thinking about that specific curse for the rest of her working career.

Fleur was still watching her with wide, beautiful, blue eyes, and Hermione was really trying to maintain her mask of professionalism. She cleared her throat, glancing down at the clipboard again.

"Ms. Delacour," she stated, "what can I help you with?"

The blond goddess squirmed on the medical table, her knees still pressed firmly together. Unknown abdominal pain, hm, Hermione thought, her eyes roaming over her body quickly for any other signs of distress. She didn't look great, shockingly. Well, no. She looked great, obviously. She was unnaturally beautiful all the time, but she looked dishevelled and uncomfortable. Her hair was a little tousled, which wouldn't be unusual for anyone else, but Hermione knew Fleur's hair was basically perfect 99.9% of the time. Her skin was flushed, as if she had been running. Even in battle and when she fought the Common Welsh Green, she hardly looked so red-faced and out of breath.

The blonde looked away at the window. The healer frowned, "Please, think of me only as a medical official. I'm here to help you," she set her clipboard aside. The blonde took a deep breath, but didn't look to be relaxing at all.

Still nothing.

A few moments passed, and Hermione sighed before saying, "I will get another healer, Fleur. I want you to be comfortable."

What she was not expecting was the veela's reaction, in which she essentially shouted from the hospital bed, "Non!" she yelled, and looked again at the window, chewing on her lower lip now. Her eyes were scrunched together and her breathing seemed laboured.

Hermione frowned again, crossing her arms at the woman before her.

"I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on, Fleur," she asked gently. The veela was still staring intently out the wall, but she kept rubbing her bare knees together and squirming on the table. Her face was nearing an unflattering pink which Hermione thought was probably transgression for the woman.

The healer walked a little closer, noticing her muscles straining in her legs. Maybe her stomach really does hurt, her mind ran through at least ten different scenarios as her hands started moving without a second thought, checking her pulse and feeling her temperature the Muggle way out of habit. She like a more holistic approach anyway.

What she wasn't prepared for was Fleur's reaction to her hands on her neck. The blonde let out a panted breath and her whole body tensed again as she scrunched her eyes closed. The brunette immediately removed her fingers, but she was done with the timidity now.

"Fleur," she said firmly, waiting until blue eyes found her again, "Tell me what the hell is going on."

Her pretty mouth opened and closed a few times, and the Gryffindor waited for her to spit it out, trying to remain patient.

"I—I—I need 'elp," she finally said, still gnashing her knees together.

"Yes, I can see that,” Hermione replied exasperatedly, "What happened? What is happening? What hurts!? Jesus, Fleur, tell me something, anything!"

So much for patience.

Blue eyes were wide and looking around the room frantically as if she was thinking about leaving, but the discomfort seemed to win out and she finally nodded to herself, swallowing thickly, before speaking again.

"I don't know what is 'appening. I went to lunch yesterday wiz a friend and 'ad zis tea and now I can't…I can't…" she was looking frantic again. Hermione's brows furrowed, and she uncrossed her arms and stood directly in front of her so that she had nowhere to go. The blonde was looking down.

"Can't what?" her eyes narrowed.

Fleur's eyes suddenly snapped up, cutting through her like a knife. She reached out and grabbed the healer's hand, and Hermione's eyes widened when she roughly guided her hand between her legs.

"Oh, fuck," the healer groaned at the feeling of her palm pressed her core, and Fleur whimpered a little at the contact, trying to pull her in even further. The veela was ridiculously wet, and swollen. The heat radiating to her hand was unbelievable. Unnatural. Blood went rushing to the brunette's cheeks.

The logical side of Hermione's brain was thinking about her patient, of course, and trying to maintain her façade of professionalism. Obviously, the veela was having some…reaction…to whatever was in her tea. Perhaps it was a veela thing? She had no idea what ingredient could do such a thing to a human.

The other part of Hermione's brain was switched off from any reasonable thought, as if the lights were off and she was stumbling around guided only by her senses. Her hand was still pressed against the swollen, silky folds of the woman of her dreams and she wanted to move it so badly. Fleur was still panting and now trying to rock against her hand a little and Hermione bit down on her lip to avoid the moan trying to escape her throat.

"Please, please, please, 'Ermione, I need you," the blonde begged, tears threatening to spill from the corners of her eyes, "I have tried everyzing! I need someone else; I know it. Please! If you don't 'elp me I will run out into the 'all and ask a stranger, I don't care anymore!"

You can't do this, you're her doctor! logical brain reasoned.

She also used to be an acquaintance. I can't very well leave her to get off by some stranger, horny brain retorted.

You don't think you are taking advantage of the situation a little if you go through with this? logical brain thought.

I don't know, but what other options does she have. Look at her! horny brain replied.

Fleur was now fully in tears and pleading in French. Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath, removing her hand from Fleur's sex and placing in on her knee comfortingly. The blonde cried out and begged again, tears streaming down her rosy face.

"Fleur," the healer started calmly, interrupting her, "I want to help you, but I need you to verbally consent first. I am your doctor, and this is far, far past the legal boundaries for you as a patient. I am only considering it because you are…a friend, of sorts. Do you understand?"

Fleur was nodding through her whole lecture, her blue eyes bright and wide. She closed them, and the brunette could see her wet lashes clumped together. Who can look this good when they cry?

She opened her eyes again after taking a few deep breaths. Her knees were still pressed tightly together, but it looked like she had regained some semblance of composure.

"I understand, 'Ermione. Please, I asked to see you. I wanted you. I don't even live in London..." she trailed off, and the healer's eyes widened at the admission.

"You…wanted…me?" her eyes were unfocused as her brain reeled with this information. What the hell?

"I…like you, 'Ermione. I always have," her eyes scrunched up again as a wave of something passed through her body and she tensed up, her neck straining until it passed, "Please. I trust you. I just…I don't know who else I would ask. I can't bear this any longer." The blonde's blushing face was cast down as she waited, each pained breath unravelling the healer's resolve more and more.

Hermione Granger was very seldom left speechless, but she had no idea what to say. Instead, she took her wand out of her lab coat and wordlessly silenced and locked the door. Fleur's head snapped up, her eyes revealing some hope.

"Lie back," Hermione instructed, gently guiding her to lie flat on the sterile bed. The veela's chest was rising and falling rapidly. Her vibrant eyes watching her every move as the brunette took off her lab coat and folded it neatly on the chair nearby. She took another deep breath, trying to still her racing heart. She felt a little faint. Her own sex was throbbing now too. Fleur Delacour was lying on the bed, waiting for her? Suddenly, Hermione's experience didn't seem like nearly enough. What would she want? What did she need? What did she like?

The healer walked up to the side of the bed and looked down, assessing her like one would a patient, but with very, very different intentions. Fleur's eyes read excitement and thirst, and so she began. She tentatively leaned down into the blonde's personal space, a hand coming to rest on her cheek. She could feel the woman's breath tickling her chin.

"You're sure?" she asked again.

Fleur's eyes darkened just before she reached up with both hands and pulled the younger witch by the back of the neck towards her, their lips crashing together. Although it was needy and frantic, Hermione had never felt lips so soft, so wonderful before. She moved her hands to the veela's jaw and pressed her tongue to her lower lip, indicating what she wanted. The blonde pulled her in even more, giving her access and moaning into her mouth.

The brunette could hardly breathe. She had never felt so braindead. She felt like she was floating. Who knew kissing could feel this good? This woman—this absolute goddess—was winding her hands into her curls and pulling her deeper. Hermione swallowed a groan and she could feel Fleur's back arching slightly beneath her, beckoning for more contact. Remembering she was needed for something, she let her hand trace down the blonde's perfect figure until she reached the hem of the hospital gown. She paused again, unsure.

Fleur could feel her unease apparently, because she just whispered, "Please," against her lip, her tongue tracing her lower bit before biting down gently.

Her heart skipped a beat. Fucking hell.

Hermione traced her fingers up to the top of her toned thigh and over her hip bone. She raked her short nails up her ribcage and palmed a perfect breast. She could feel the blonde's hips rolling slightly and her tongue vibrated a little as she felt the blonde groaning into her mouth, evidently displeased she was taking the scenic route. She circled a nipple with her thumb, and Fleur moaned again, her hands tightening in her hair.

Hoping desperately that they could practice a little more foreplay another time, Hermione got the message, and her hand reached back down to find the wet folds that were waiting impatiently for her. Still in complete awe of how swollen the blonde was, she ran her two fingers gently through her, collecting her juices. Fleur's hips bucked and she gasped. Hermione took the opportunity to trail kisses down her neck as her fingers kept circling the sensitive bundle of nerves. Fleur's fingers were tight in her hair and the healer could feel nails pressing into her scalp.

"Please, please, please," she was stammering and writhing. The healer could feel hot tears against her cheek. The lady wants what she wants, she thought wryly, and the brunette bit down a little on the base of her slender neck as she entered her with two fingers. Hot walls clenched tightly around them.

"Fuck, fuck, yes," Fleur's hands left her hair and found purchase in her shoulders, pulling her in more. Hermione was all but on top of her at this point. Her own underwear was undoubtedly soaked, and she briefly wondered how she would relieve her own tension when this was over.

She was pumping into Fleur deeply, fingers curling ever so gently towards the textured wall as the blonde's fingers dug into the skin on her shoulders.

"Please, oh my God, oh my God. More, please, 'Ermione," she begged, tears still streaming down her face now. Her legs were twitching, hips rolling of their own volition. Thankful she could speak French, Hermione added another finger and Fleur threw her head back and let out a guttural moan. Her wet walls were squeezing her fingers. The blonde was nearly hyperventilating and her back bowed when the healer sucked on a sensitive spot on her neck. It had probably been less than a few minutes, but the healer could tell she was close already.

Jesus Christ, I am about to give Fleur Delacour an orgasm, she thought suddenly. This was not how she expected this day to go. The veela was so painfully beautiful as she muttered and moaned some select expletives in her native tongue.

The brunette moved her mouth back to capture soft lips, keeping up the pace as she pressed her thumb gently to the swollen nerves. Fleur's mouth hung open; her eyes widened as the healer thrust into her. A quiet, "Oh, fuck," escaped as if her throat had closed. Hermione could see her pupils dilate as her body began quivering in spasms and the brunette kept her pace, her hand almost completely covered in her essence now.

Blue eyes rolled and her body shook violently. Hermione was in awe of her beauty, of this intensity. She had never seen the blonde so unravelled; so vulnerable and sensual. Her fingers relented their punishing pace as the veela's shuddering slowed. Fleur put her hands over her face and was talking to herself, but it was muffled and the brunette struggled to hear her. She decided to give her a minute.

The healer slowly removed her hand from her slick heat, and Fleur whimpered slightly from the sensitivity. Her hands fell from her face and her arms dropped to the hospital bed like they were made of stone. Blue eyes met brown, and Hermione was surprised by how spent she looked. It made her grin a little, and for the first time since seeing her biggest crush, she got to see a genuine smile back at her. And she laughed. And then Fleur laughed. And it was so bloody ridiculous what just happened that they couldn't stop. Hermione was in tears and Fleur was holding a stitch in her side by the time they finally were able to control themselves.

The healer spoke first, "So, I take it you are, erm, feeling better now, Miss Delacour?" she put on a fake professional voice and Fleur's eyes danced gleefully at her playfulness. Hermione's heart was pounding.

"Oui, you could say that. Merci, 'Ermione. I don't know what I would have done without you," she replied.

This is it, Granger. Don't be such a baby. Just ask her out. You already fucked the woman for crying out loud, why is this so hard?

But it was hard. For some reason, the need to relieve tension was different than an actual date. That had intentions. A date had meaning. Fleur probably didn't mean anything by…this.

Just do it. The worst thing she can say is no, and you're back to your boring life anyway.

Hermione sighed. Fleur was watching her with those bright, intelligent eyes and god she looked so beautiful right now. Her skin was glowing in the aftermath of her climax. Her hair was hanging down in tousled wisps, framing her face.

How fucking ridiculous. The healer still had her juices coating her fingers and she couldn't ask her out for dinner? No, enough is enough. She bit the bullet, "I…I know this might be presumptuous of me, but would you like to go on a date with me, Fleur?"

The blonde tilted her head and raised a perfect eyebrow.

"I am certain I owe you more than a date at this point, Dr. Granger," she replied in a low, sultry voice that made Hermione's knees go weak.

Oh, my God. This woman is dangerous.

"Oh. Well, erm, lovely," she squeaked. Her gay heart was trying not to fall out of her ass. "I think I would like that. Quite a lot." She grabbed her coat and started walking backwards towards the door, "I'll, erm, I will leave you to get dressed, but I'll leave my address with the reception. Owl me?"

Fleur smiled, her perfect teeth gleaming and her damn dimple taunting Hermione to stay and ravish her again.

"I will do that, 'Ermione. Please keep your weekend open," she replied with a wink. A wink!

The brunette reached the door and waved her wand to let down her necessary spells. Just as she was about to close it, she frowned when a sudden thought hit her and turned back towards her patient.

"Just out of curiosity," she started, and Fleur raised her eyebrow again, "What kind of tea was it?"

A predatory smile stretched across the blonde's face, and the healer could have sworn her eyes turned a darker shade of blue, "What tea?"