Hello. :D

Alright, so this is an answer to the Challenge Fic issued by Tsukura Rakugaki and I'm hoping I did it some justice. Oh, and please also note that I'm new to the Fleurmione fandom so if there are times when they go off character, forgive me.

Really don't have a beta so any mistakes you find in here, grammar, spelling or whatever, I solely take responsibility. And fair warning, this is femmeslash so if you've got no respect for fics of such, please vacate the story. Thank you.

Disclaimer: Well, I was so sure Hermione and Harry would end up together when I first saw the movie as a kid, so, no… I don't own Harry Potter. I also don't own the plot so kudos to one Tsukura Rakugaki for giving me a reason to finally indulge myself to write a Fleurmione fic.

Summary: When Hermione start to come of age, strange things start happening. She's able to hear things nobody else should, see things clearer than the average human being. Controlling wandless magic becomes easy, and she's stronger, than she's been before. It isn't until her mother tells her what's going on with her body that she understands things are about to change.

Enjoy.

Chapter One

The sun had just begun to rise over the horizon, Hermione absently noted as she stared out her bedroom's window. It was the third night in a row ever since summer started that she didn't get much sleep, at all; and it wasn't because of her addiction with reading, but because of aches from different parts of her body.

It started with her teeth at the beginning of the previous school year. At first, she thought it was a cavity forming—she didn't dare share with her parents since they were sure to have a heart attack and she definitely did not want to be an orphan just yet—because everytime she chewed, a slight pain emerges.

Though as two and a half months passed, she swore with every breath of her being that her teeth grows—as if she needed it to be bigger—when in close proximity to food, specifically meat. Sweet smelling, deliciously tempting meat. What's even odder was that her appetite now rendered Ron's normal. If stomachs could speak, she was pretty sure Ron's would spout out its incredulity, just like its owner. It had now become her friends' favorite topic, much to her dismay.

Her misery didn't end there, though. Even though she had reluctantly—she feared for her mental health—gotten used to the feeling of her teeth growing every other meal time, the pain had now taken residence on her nose and jaw and she was absolutely certain they were trying to elongate.

Everytime the pain struck, she couldn't help but worry because, sweet mother of Merlin, it was bad enough to think she was becoming a rabbit—she had crossed the idea of it being her animagus—but now she had the additional thought of possibly being a relative of Pinocchio to be even more anxious about. Not that she had any qualms about the adorable wood creation, mind you.

For the whole of third year, Hermione was a nervous wreck and it showed with how easily she got irritated by the smallest things; like, Ron's table manners or Draco's snide comments. That was one the reasons she punched him, in the first place.

After her violent retort, the professors started noticing and, naturally, started fussing over her. Like when Professor McGonagall found out about her aches, she immediately sent her to Madame Pomfrey for some potions to lessen the pain. It did help.

Speaking of her professor, she was just thankful her problem hadn't swayed her Head of House to take back the time turner, thus, affecting her studies and Sirius' life in a bad way.

So that's why, after the whole Harry-rescuing-Sirius-by-travelling-back-in-time debacle, for the first time ever, Hermione was looking forward for summer. Maybe, just maybe, she would catch a break. She should have known not to get her hopes up.

As soon as she woke up the next day after her arrival back home, her shoulder blades ached like there's no tomorrow, which caused her to brood. And trying to brighten up a grumpy Hermione was no easy feat to accomplish, as her parents once had the displeasure of knowing; it involved their little girl, a book, a park, a pond and a duck.

Guiltily, she would spend her day with them, trying in vain not to snap at them because of the slightly there pain. She would have to find a way to buy some pain killers now that she is in the muggle world because there was no way she was going to brew a potion in her room. She still had her magic detected and she definitely did not want any agents from the Ministry to stick their nose up in her business. That was just a disaster waiting to happen and she had no urge to explain why she did it in the first place.

A knock on her door brought her back to reality.

"Yes?"

She watched as the knob turned before her mother's head poked through the opening. Her mother smiled.

"Hello, darling. Are you feeling any better?"

Monica W. Granger was like an older version of her daughter, except that her hair was a bit darker, tamer and, not to mention, shorter than Hermione's.

Hermione tried to return her smile as she sat up and leaned on her headrest. "Good morning," she greeted as her mother entered the room and softly closing the door behind her before walking up towards her and sitting on her desk chair then placed a tray of food on her lap. "And, no… Not much. The pain seems to be getting a bit worse. That reminds me… Mum?"

Monica hummed as she sat back down, a cup of tea in hand, and looked up, giving all her attention to whatever Hermione wanted to say.

Hermione shifted, body and mind a tad uncomfortable from the pain and her mother's scrutiny, respectively. "Would you mind terribly if we were to visit a drug store?"

That earned her a raised brow, a small quirk of lips and a slight tilt of the head.

She busied herself by jamming up her toast. "Well, you see… I'm running a bit short on potions and so, err, since I'm here, I was thinking… I might as well get some muggle medicine, right?"

Consciously, she was aware that by the end of her rant, the volume of her voice gradually decreased before it finally settled into a mere meek whisper. She may be a Gryffindor, but there was something about her mom that made the lion in her submissive. It was almost as if it were acknowledging its alpha.

Monica hummed thoughtfully before she took a dainty sip from her cup. "I see," she mumbled.

A moment of silence enveloped them and Hermione took her chance of munching up her toast; well, at least she thought she was munching it. If seen from another's perspective though, it looked like she inhaled her food, like a vacuum would with dirt.

Monica couldn't hold back the chuckle, smile now hidden behind her teacup as her daughter looked up to her questioningly, face covered slightly by her bushy hair as her head tilted to the side—a trait she got from her. She watched as Hermione swallowed her food, chocking a bit in the process, before washing away the remnants with a big gulp of her orange juice.

"What?" Hermione asked.

Her mother shook her head. "Nothing," she answered innocently but her smirking lips and twinkling eyes said otherwise. She shot her mother a suspicious glare, question being answered as Monica said with a lilt, "It's just a miracle you're still fit, what with your increasing appetite and all." She finished off with a too-innocent-to-be-taken-seriously shrug.

Despite her indignation, she couldn't shake off the amusement with regards to her mother's antics. She scoffed haughtily as her nose turned up, arms now crossed against her chest. "Oh, please, mother. No matter what, I am always fit."

They stared at each other for a few minutes before bursting into a fit of giggles.

"My dear, you do have a way with words," Monica said, a hint of pride showing in her tone as she gazed at her daughter lovingly.

Hermione grinned. "Of course. I am your daughter, mum."

Monica chuckled heartily. "Oh, yes. How could I ever forget that, dear?" she asked rhetorically.

They shared a smile before they lapsed into companionable silence.

~:~

"Hermione?"

Stomach now content and tray safely placed on her bedside table, Hermione lazily looked at her mother from her perch on the bed. "Yes, mum?"

"Are… are you alright, dear?"

Hermione perked up as her mother's gaze held concern and an unknown glint she couldn't quite place. She was well-known for her curiosity, after all. She pushed her questions to the side, however, as she contemplated on how to answer her mother. She did not want to let it slip that her teeth are hurting. She swallowed her anxiety—she never was a good liar but she is getting better at it with the help of the boys—and hurriedly said, "Yes, of course. Why wouldn't I be? It's not like my teeth are grow—err, I mean, I'm perfectly fine, mum. Why are you asking?"

Merlin, hex her now. Because that was totally convincing.

She bit her lip when her mother eyed her skeptically. Oh yes, Merlin, hex her now.

For her part, Monica didn't believe a single word her daughter uncharacteristically just stuttered out; if Hermione was stuttering, she was hiding something. Besides, she had a pretty good hunch on what was happening to her daughter after that slip about her teeth—she'll fret about that later, she mentally promised her inner dentist.

"Right," Monica dragged the word out and cracked a smile as Hermione blushed.

Hermione opened her mouth to try and convince her mother that she was fine when the woman asked something unexpected.

"Did this all start with your teeth? Like, it was being ripped apart with no anesthesia? But then, after a few months, you'd think you're going crazy because you are sure they're elongating whenever you're near food, especially meat?"

Hermione's lips parted partially in shock. How could her mother possibly know that?

"And just when you thought you're getting used to it, your face starts to hurt. Tell me, Hermione, why do you need to buy some pain killer pills?"

Hermione was certain her face resembled that of a fish out of water as she struggled to work out a form of answer to her mother's abrupt change of topic. Was there something in her tea? Unconsciously, she sniffed the air, placing an indefinite amount of attention on her mother's teacup, but found no out of place scent.

So bewildered was she with her actions, she jumped out of bed, well, tried to jump out of bed. In her haste, her feet got tangled up with the sheets, causing her to reacquaint with her bedroom floor.

She groaned in pain.

"Oh dear…"

Hermione heard her mother say, tone a bit strained and she had a hunch as to why.

"Her—pff… ehem… Hermione?"

Hermione grumbled something about floors and clumsiness and genes and changing sheets that it was getting harder for Monica to downplay the amusement on her daughter's predicament. Monica coughed into her hand, hoping to not let the laugh bubble out of her so she wouldn't inflict any more damage to her daughter's bruised pride. "Hermione, dear, are you alright?"

She watched as her daughter's head slowly came into view, cheeks tinged with red as her eyes shone in embarrassment and lips quirked sheepishly.

Hermione scratched her cheek as she nervously laughed her plight out of the building. "Fine and dandy, mum. But, uh, to answer your question… err, I just have a little body ache, that's all."

She swallowed down her nerves as her mother once again scrutinized her. She donned on a, hopefully, passive face as she mentally made a list. One, she had to work on her convincing abilities. Two, she had to figure out what the bloody hell was that about with her nose a minute ago because there was no way her sense of smell was that keen. Three, keep a calm composure at all cost. And, lastly, never ever let it slip that's something wrong with her teeth ever again.

After a few minutes of tense silence, Monica finally cracked a smile while Hermione released a relieved sigh. "If you say so, dear." She got up from her seat and placed a chaste kiss on Hermione's forehead. "I better go. I'm sure your father's done with his shower. Come down and greet him before he goes to work?"

Hermione nodded her agreement as her mother glanced at her while collecting the tray.

"Okay," was her mother's parting word before she disappeared out of her room and down to the kitchen where her father was presumably waiting.

She let out a breath after she was sure she was completely alone. Her mind raced as thoughts swirled and assumptions made. There was something happening to her and judging by the glint in her mother's eyes, it was safe to assume she knew something she didn't.

She sighed. "Might as well freshen up," she mumbled to herself before heading off towards her bathroom to do just that.