Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or its characters in any way.

Warning: This is femmeslash. If you have a problem with that... Go get some therapy. Seriously.

A/N: Begins in the summer before Hermione's 4th year at Hogwarts. Also, apologies for any errors I make with my French - I don't speak it at all! Hope you enjoy...

Chapter One

It was perhaps the most perfect week of her life thus far. Hermione Granger was lying on a warm, sunny beach in the south of France, reading a book and sipping champagne. Not for the first time was she delighted that her Aunt Daria loved to take her on vacation. She had spent the past week eating fine French food, relaxing on the beach, and getting a fabulous tan.

Daria had convinced her niece to wear a small bikini - it was dark blue in color - in order to get a better tan - or so she said. Hermione suspected that her aunt wanted her to be a little more daring. The young witch was very glad that she had developed some serious curves for this summer. She would be fifteen in just a couple of months, and Hermione had decided that she would like some attention for more than her brain.

She was almost a woman now, and deserved to be treated like one. Of course, if she had looked up from her books while on the beach, Hermione would have realized that plenty of the French locals - men and women alike - were noticing her... physique, and admiring it quite studiously as they walked by.

It was two o'clock when Hermione finished another chapter of her novel and decided to take a quick dip in the ocean. She left her book on her towel, pushed her hair away from her face, and proceeded to the water.

She hissed slightly at the feeling of the cold water as she stepped into it. After a moment, Hermione began to like the temperature, and waded deeper. A minute later, she felt ready to dive underneath the water, wetting herself thoroughly.

Hermione surfaced and breathed the air again.

"I love France," she declared to herself, then dived back underneath the waves.

She relaxed under water, letting the waves pull her slowly towards the shore. But this time as she surfaced, something struck her hard in the head - so hard that Hermione saw stars, and then nothing.

Fleur Delacour was walking along the beach when she saw it happen. A beautiful girl had emerged from the water, her gaze directed towards Fleur - when a boy on a surfboard struck her full on the back of her head.

The French girl ran through the sand and plunged instantly into the water, swimming towards the girl she feared might drown. Within moments she was at the girl's side. Fleur wrapped her arms around the girl and carried her from the water and to the sand. She lay the brunette down on the beach and administered CPR.

"Oh God," the surfer said anxiously from beside Fleur. "I didn't realize..."

Fleur ignored him and concentrated on removing the water from the girl's lungs.

"Mon dieu," Fleur breathed, and pressed on the girl's chest again. Having pulled away, she could finally see the girl properly. Fleur could tell that she was a beauty, with her long, flowing brown hair, her delicate eyelashes, her supple lips, her sweet curves... This was not the time, Fleur scolded herself, to be checking the girl out.

Then the angel - for what else could she be, Fleur thought - coughed up the water and inhaled air quickly and heavily.

"Mon ange," Fleur spoke softly. "Vous allez bien?" My angel - are you allright?

It took a moment for the girl to respond.

"Bien… je crois." Good - I think.

The angel did have an adorable British accent, and Fleur smiled.

"You would rather speak Eenglish?"

"Oh… Thank you," the girl breathed, her eyes riveted on Fleur's own sparkling ones.

"I'm very sorry," the American surfer boy said, sounding ashamed.

"It's okay," the angel said slowly, sitting up with the help of a hand from Fleur. "I'm alive, aren't I?"

It was Fleur who wondered if somehow she had died gone to heaven. It was rare for her to have such a strong attraction to somebody - in fact, she couldn't remember having been so quickly infatuated with anybody before.

The surfer boy said something else and left, but Fleur wasn't paying him any attention.

"I doubt you 'ave a concussion," Fleur smiled, touching the other girl's head gently. "But I'd like to check anyways."

The girl nodded, her eyelashes fluttering as she lowered her head and let Fleur inspect it. Running her hands through the girl's dark brown hair, Fleur murmured a diagnosis spell so quietly that the muggle girl wouldn't be able to tell.

The diagnosis spell chirped into Fleur's mind that the angel was fine, except for bruising.

"What - that was a diagnosis spell," the girl gasped.

Fleur withdrew in shock.

"You… 'ow did you?"

"I suppose its because... We both happen to be witches," the other girl smiled shyly.

"Oh." Fleur was at a loss for words. To think that fortune had gifted her with such a beautiful girl, and one who could so easily share in her life of magic…

"I'm Hermione," the brunette introduced herself softly.

"And I am Fleur."

"It's lovely to meet you," she continued. "Thank you for saving me."

"It would be a crime to let un ange drown."

Hermione shivered at the intense gaze fixed upon her.

"An angel?"

"Oui," Fleur said, reaching to take one of Hermione's smaller hands in her own. "A beautiful angel."

Hermione flushed. Were all of the women in France so flattering and complimentary?

"No, you are…"

"Let us compromise." Fleur leaned in a bit more, and Hermione found herself unable to move. "We would be even more beautiful together..."

Oh, Hermione almost gasped - she wasn't being flattered… She was most definitely being flirted with. Besides the occasional teasing flirt from the Weasley twins or Anthony Goldstein that she had received last year, this was a first time for Hermione. Except now it wasn't a joke, judging by the steamy way Fleur was looking at her.

Hermione wondered how she could be shivering when Fleur's gaze made her feel she was burning up.

"You are cold," Fleur crooned softly. "My villa is very close, and once there I'm sure I can warm you up."

Hermione nodded, and helped Fleur pick up her things before following the taller girl's lead.

Fleur took her hand in her own larger, yet infinitely delicate hand, and to Hermione it felt like the most natural thing in the world.