A/N: This first chapter is dedicated to the fanfic authors who 'turned' me to Fleurmione. Whistle the Silver, Here's To, Jue Jue and Metal-Panda-Alex. Also a shy 'Hi' to those who ship this. Not many people 'get' it, but because you do, here's for you.

Reviews are love! Enjoy!

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CHAPTER ONE

Hermione fidgeted in her suede blazer. She was wearing her trusty legging-jeans and knee-high laced boots, all magically warmed yet it did nothing to quell the chill of the crime scene before her. Served cold by the absence of blood and the presence of death.

She nodded to her junior partner who took out a camera and proceeded to take shots of the yellow-taped enclosure. Like the four cases before, an adult male was found dead in a hotel room. A swanky suite with a plush carpet and thick walls that swallow whispers and screams. Hermione already saw the security footage, the man checked in alone and had no visitors.

Which did not explain why the man ended up sprawled shirtless on the king sized bed with the look of frozen exhilaration on his face. Hermione waved her arm across the body, her wand concealed in a custom harness inside her jacket sleeve. The digital watch on her wrist changed its clock display into a coded graph which only Hermione can decipher.

'Spell: Unknown

Caster: Magical Creature – species unknown.'

The brunette swiftly took out a small pen from her pocket, used its sharp point to prick the man's neck. The pin sized wound shone red and healed in the next second. Hermione clicked the pen and read the words now engraved on it's silver casing.

'Potion: None.'

'Well, that answers a lot,' Hermione muttered sarcastically as she stashed her pen away and switched her watch back to its normal clock face.

Thanks to her three-year training at The Guild, Hermione became adept at fusing rune magic with simple muggle technology to speed up investigations. After clinching the highest N.E.W.T. marks in Hogwarts on her final year, Hermione received a mysterious black enveloped letter from The Guild – a secret university for exceptional wizards and witches selected from all over the world. They only take 25 students a year so it was a great honour to be invited. With their education fully funded by an international coalition of Magical Ministries, graduates proudly serve as Guild Intelligence Agents (Hermione refused the colloquial term 'spies') who gather and utilise magical knowledge for global security (aka seizing emerging Big Bads, averting wizard wars and mass muggle attacks etc). They also investigate cases deemed unsolvable by Aurors.

Which brings her here on this peculiar case of mighty dead men. Mighty because all the victims were either extremely wealthy or politically powerful. It was Hermione's first serious case as a Guild agent, and she did not want to screw this up.

Her brows knit into a frown when she spotted a thin strand of pale hair underneath the bed. She snapped on a rubber glove on her right hand and knelt. As she bagged the evidence she saw in her periphery a pair of dark, low-heeled boots stepping into the room. The faint scent of almond and vanilla wafted to her nose.

Hermione's heart stilled.

Could it be?

'The name of the victim is Gregory Rosseu. Vice President of Une Banc Francais.' A soft, deep feminine voice said. Its enunciation was crystal, barely a trace of an accent that Hermione knew was there two years ago.

Hermione stood quickly, evidence bag made a dull thump on the carpet. 'Fleur?' she whispered.

The brunette couldn't believe what she was seeing. Fleur Delacour stood a few feet before her. She looked exactly as she remembered, but different at the same time. Her silver locks cascaded in perfect disarray, a few wisps strayed near plush heart-shaped lips. Her eyes slanted up ever so slightly, fringed with everlong, thick lashes. Orbs of piercing blue bore into Hermione, yet gave nothing away. She wore a velvet trench coat that hugged her tall, slender hourglass figure, the dark material contrasting with the blonde's smooth olive skin.

Hermione gulped. She almost forgot how overwhelmingly beautiful Fleur can be.

God how she missed her.

Her arms were already half raised and feet ready to spring to engulf the blonde with a hug when she was frozen in place by narrowed sapphire eyes.

Oh. Undercover. Right. Hermione caught herself in time.

'Detective Granger,' Fleur said with a curt nod, her eyes pointedly glancing at the muggle police officer who was busily taking photos. 'I don't believe we've met. I'm Agent Delacour from Interpol France. I'll be taking over from here.'

Not a trace of warmth in that voice. Not even a flicker of recognition of their sort-of friendship. Hermione knew it was part of the undercover act, but she had no word from the woman for two freaking years and here she was. All hard-core business in her face.

Without missing a beat, Hermione used her own brisk boss voice. 'It seems Interpol has sidestepped protocol. I'm afraid you are not allowed to take over this case without authorisation.'

A hint of a smile ghosted the blonde's lips. She slid her hand underneath the lapel of her trench coat, briefly exposing the top of her left breast. 'Here's my authorisation,' she murmured.

A small intake of breath escaped Hermione's suddenly slack lips.

Don't be an idiot, Granger. Stop acting like a pubescent boy. Hermione berated herself as she closed her mouth and tore her eyes away from the briefly exposed skin.

She inwardly shook herself and found her eyes staring into a blank sheet of paper held out by the blonde. Slowly, words started to swim into sentences, filling the blank space. Hermione blinked rapidly to prevent being further enchanted by the obviously charmed paper.

'That will be enough Agent Delacour. We can do a collaborative investigation, but until you clear this with my superior, you have no authorisation to take charge of this case.' Hermione said with finality. She picked up her fallen evidence bag and stuffed it quickly in her magically enhanced pants pocket. She was known at The Guild for perfecting the undetectable extendable charm, having done the advanced spell since she was 17.

The two women nodded at each other before combing the room together. Hermione started with the walls, holding up her hand to scan the scene with her magically tweaked watch. Fleur stood at the centre of the room and did a slow 360 turn, she held a smart phone and appeared to be taking panoramic shots. Hermione bit back a grin. This was almost like old times, back when Fleur was assigned as her student-mentor at the Guild. They would go inside a conjured crime scene and tried to outdo each other in finding the most clues.

'How did you ascertain his identity? There's no recovered wallet, paid the hotel in cash. Fingerprints have not yet been run through,' Hermione asked as she carefully rifled through a drawer on the bedside table.

'His face is his ID. Because of his indiscretions as a playboy businessman, he is a favourite feature in the French dailies,' Fleur said as she stowed her phone away. She saw the muggle cop inspecting items in the bathroom and approached her at the doorway.

'There's no need for that. I'll take it from here,' Fleur said dismissively.

She forgot how stand-offish Fleur can be to other people.

Jane, her muggle cop partner, paused in her inspection and flashed her eyes at Fleur. She stepped out of the bathroom and faced the blonde with an even glare. 'Now just hold on a second Blondie. I don't care if you are from Interpol, but you can't boss me or Detective Granger around. This is our case,' Jane huffed.

'It's okay Jane,' Hermione approached the woman and made a reassuring squeeze on her shoulder. 'You got most of the important shots. I'll handle this stuck-up witch, I mean, bitch myself. You can go ahead, I'll meet you at the office.'

Seemingly mollified, Jane scowled one last time at Fleur before packing her paraphernalia and heading out the door.

'Bitch?' a perfectly arched brow nearly reached Fleur's hairline.

'I have a character to play you know. I am London's hard-arse crime buster and they don't mess with me.' Hermione said with a shrug and a hint of a swagger in the way she tilted her head to the side.

'Mmm.. I've always thought you'd become a sexy sorcerer assassin 'Ermione, but a lovely assed muggle police detective will do.' Fleur's voice slid smoothly like silk against Hermione's ears.

Maybe it was magic. Or maybe it was the blonde's athletic grace. Hermione didn't see the blonde move. All she knew is that the distance between them was now gone and Fleur was a mere inches away. 'You grew up beautifully mon amis,' Fleur husked, her breath caressing Hermione's face.

Warmth spread across Hermione's cheeks as she felt Fleur's blazing sapphire eyes frisk her form, settling on her lips. She had seen Fleur flirt with a lot of people and always laughed at how they easily became a puddle of witless gits around the blonde.

And here is me, a second away from losing my wits. What is Fleur playing at? She never flirted with me before.

'Erm.. thanks.' Hermione mumbled as she hastily stepped away from the blonde. Her nearness was too confounding. She crossed her arms around her chest and steadied her breath. 'So what happened to you, Fleur? I wrote you a ton of mail for a year. The last news I had was from the Weasleys. They said you broke your engagement with Bill and seemed to disappear from the earth.'

Fleur sighed. The brief flicker of warmth in her eyes were gone the second Hermione distanced herself.

'Zis tale deserves to be talked over drinks, and not a dead body, non?'

Hermione grinned, seeing some of the old Fleur she knew coming back.

'Fine. Let's wrap this up. You better have answers to all my questions.'

'Well if all questions are answered cherie, where's the fun of mystery in that?'

And right before Hermione's bewildered eyes, Fleur twirled on the spot and disapparated with a pop.

Shit balls, she did it again.