Author: Ladyfun

Title: Hermione's First Day

Pairing: Hermione/Fleur

Rating: Generally K+

Disclaimers: All of this (Ladyfun gesturing big wide circles over the computer with her hand) belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing, and this is all for non-profit fun. And I sure as heck don't own Quiddich.

SUMMARY: For the Quiddich League Fanfiction competition/Round 10. What happens when the brightest witch of her era has to apply that knowledge on her first day on the job in the Ministry? Hermione realizes book knowledge is very different in practical application of regulating magical creatures...one, in particular. Endgame: Fleurmione!

A/N #1: Written for Round 10 /Season 2 of the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition. Position is Beater 2 for the Wigtown Wanderers. BEATER 2 prompt: beast division (Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures)

A/N #2: OPTIONAL PROMPTS: 1. (quote) "Stories of imagination tend to upset those without one." Terry Pratchett. 2. (word) chemistry

Random technicality: I can't post new fanfics, it would appear, so I am posting it as chapter 2 of Second Chances. This is UNRELATED story content to Second Chances.

Title: Hermione's First Day
Round 10/Crashing the Ministry
Position: Beater 2- Prompt: Reg Magical Creatures
Team: Wigtown Wanderers

ROUND 10: CRASHING THE MINISTRY

Hermione was often asked to recount her first day at work, if it was really as fantastic as the urban legend goes.

She would always reply, perfunctorily, "It wasn't that big of a deal, really."

Then after much prodding, she would roll her eyes, huff a little bit, and get down to the telling...

"It was my first day at my new job, as Head of the Department of the Regulation of Magical Creatures, a post I had been working towards for five years at the Ministry. Granted, I was the youngest Head ever, but I didn't feel that I was unprepared, at the time. Little did I realize how completely wrong that notion was!" She chuckled.

"It was quite a first day. A creature crisis, international espionage, lockdown, and I met my spouse...all in one day. This is how I remember it, sort of..."

XOXOXOXO

"They've infested everything! The onion harvest will be ruined!" Farmer McClaggen wailed, looking at an entire season of hard work going down the WC due to an infestation of evil Nogtails.

Although the Nogtail was a creature no bigger than a piglet, it was fierce and mean; accented by it beady and narrow black eyes, a thick stubby tail, and long legs. The longer the Nogtail goes unfettered on the farm, the longer the blight will stay on the farm. There had been reports, sporadically, that the Nogtail population had gone up, alarmingly, and was overrunning a variety of different types of farms.

This was the first major operation that was infested, however. McClaggen oversaw the largest distribution of root vegetables to the entire wizarding world. This could become very problematic very quickly.

Which is why the brand spankin' new Head of Magical Creatures was summoned from the Ministry.

"Chairman Granger," grumbled McClaggen. "I've seen every form of pestilence, but nothing like these little devils! I've tried to do everything – they don't even flinch at hexes!"

The assistants Hermione had brought looked around, nervously. The Nogtail epidemic had depleted their department of the one known defense against these creatures, that were prone to snack on humans as well. This was not good.

Completely ignoring their concerned murmurings, she turned to the farmer and put a reassuring hand on his arm.

"You're the best producer to all of Britain, Mr. McClaggen, you've been doing this for years! And if you haven't experienced these, well then, I can't think of the producer that would have! I have to say…these buggers aren't endemic to here. You wouldn't be expected to know what to do." Hermione Granger said, gently, reassuring him.

He did look slightly relieved.

"Tell me, do your kids have any pets?"

"A few mice."

Why does it always have to be mice? she thought to herself. "Can they bring them out here?"

He called for his children to do so, and they looked around furtively, looking for the Nogtails that had bit them several times. Hermione went to work quickly, reassuring the children and sending them back inside. As she grabbed the cages, her assistants looked at her, confused.

"They'll eat mice, bigger n' shit, Hermione." One said, worried.

"Oh, Smith!" She grinned. "Use a little imagination!"

"How's 'imagination' going to help us with the psycho Nogtails?" He said, defensively.

"Remember...imagination, Smith. Imagination!" Hermione pulled out her wand from its sleeve; most people in this department were paper pushers, and not used to throwing around hexes and jinxes the way Hermione Granger was; then again, she was the first Head of the Department that was an Order of Merlin recipient.

They watched, amazed, as Hermione did the complex wand movements necessary to transfigure the mice to resemble the large pure white dogs that scare Nogtails.

"Sorry," she said, hurriedly to McClaggen, "there's been kind of a Nogtail epidemic…we've tasked out our entire squad of pure white dogs…"

She completed the spell and looked at her small squad of Pure White Dogs, 100% albino, the one thing known to scare Nogtails. Hermione leaned over, and petted the animals, speaking in a soft and reassuring voice. Her assistants only caught part of it, but it sounded something like a pep talk.

"Now, go!" She commanded.

They bounded off, in all directions, barking and chasing the demon creatures who squealed as the scurried away.

"What fur-" he said, but was quickly interrupted by last of the Nogtails squeal, burrowing into a hole in the earth, with the white dogs chasing after them determinedly, attempting to dig.

Hermione chuckled, and walked over to the hole where the dogs looked at her, expectantly. She uttered a spell that sealed off the hole...for good.

She walked back with the pack of dogs behind her, wagging their tails, to a stunned McClaggen and her useless assistants.

She offered an explanation. "Normally, The Pest Sub-Division of the Ministry of Magic's Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures maintains a pack of a dozen albino bloodhounds specifically for this purpose of fending off Nogtails…but lately, they've been showing up in droves! Worldwide, not just Britain."

"Why?"

"I don't know, I really don't. Maybe, I think, it's because of urban development on their natural terrain...but that's honestly just a guess. It's peculiar, that's for sure."

"Wow." He said, amazed.

"Now, " Hermione sighed, "they should be free from your property forever."

"Madame Granger, you're a genus!"

"I'm not," she said, shaking her head. "I just read a lot." She shot a glare at her sheepish assistant, Smith. "And I have a bit of imagination, too. Hard not to, having gone to Hogwarts. But then again, I heard a quote that said, 'Stories of imagination tend to upset those without one.' Seems applicable, to me in this moment, for some reason..."

McClaggen chuckled, noticing the look she was giving her assistants.

The look was not lost on her crew, who felt like they were going to have to go back to school to keep up with their new boss.

XOXOXOXOXOXO

It was pretty eventful, in a good way. Hermione became known as the Nogtail Queen by lunchtime at the Ministry, much to her dismay.

Her ability to archive vast amounts of random and archaic knowledge and facts at a moment's recall was becoming as legendary at the Ministry as it had been in her time at Hogwart's. She was busy teaching her assistants the complex transfiguration spell when the Minister himself came to their department.

"Ten-hut!" Called the first person who saw him.

"At ease, crew." Kingsley Shacklebolt said, calmly. "Ms. Granger, if I may pull you out, for just a moment?"

"Of course, sir." She looked at Smith. "Practice, and I'll check you when I get back."

"Yes ma'am." He said, glumly. He watched her walk out in her crisp stride as she and the Minister walked out of the room.

"Whad'ja suppose that's about?" his mate next to him said.

"Who knows? Hopefully, it's to tell her she's going back to the Auror department!" Smith said, while swishing his wand around, helplessly.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXO

"Hermione, it is only because you still hold the top secret clearance from your time in the Auror department, that I am even bringing you into this."

"Into what, Sir?" Hermione said, confused. "What is it that you're bringing me into, exactly?"

"One of the Black Level One Aurors needs a back brief of your Nogtail sightings. They requested you by name."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. The Black Level One Aurors were a super-secret subdivision within the Auror department; a section that the Minister himself would deny having knowledge about. They had many mythic names within the Ministry; the most common, however, called them "The Unspeakables."

She was led into one of the conference rooms and Kingsley himself warded it off. As he prepared to step out of the room, Hermione called after him.

"Wait-where are you going, Minister?"

He looked at her meaningfully. "I was not invited to this...conference, Hermione. Only with those with a "need-to-know." Good luck."

As he stepped out of the room, it sealed with an almost vacuume- like seal. Hermione felt like she could hear herself think, it was so sterile and quiet.

"Bonjour."

Hermione jumped, completely startled. The voice spoke again, as the owner of the voice turned around from a black leather chair in the middle of the room, to reveal someone unexpected to the Golden Girl.

"Ca-va, 'ermione?" Fleur Delacour said, with a grin.

She was just as radiant, years later, as she had been the day she pirouetted into the Great Hall at Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament, lo those many years ago.

Hermione sucked in a breath. "Ca-va bien, Mademoiselle" She caught herself. "Er, I'm sorry, I mean... Madame."

Fleur cocked her head to the side, charmingly.

"Mais non, you 'ad it right, ze first time. It iz Mademoiselle, still. Mademoiselle Delacour, at your service." She chuckled. Gesturing to the chair in front of her, she urged, "Please. Sit."

Now it was Hermione's turn to cock her head, this time, in confusion. "But, aren't you married?"

Fleur laughed. "No, dear 'ermione. I am not now, nor have I ever been, married."

"But...but...I was at your wedding!"

Fleur's eyes flashed with something unspoken, and the dark hue unnerved Hermione, for some reason. She rubbed her hands on her pants, as they were beginning to feel clammy. She took a deep breath. She felt something she hadn't felt in years...

Nervous.

Fleur Delacour was making her nervous.

The intensity of her gaze wasn't helping matters, any. "So, we 'ave a...'ow you say...a "situation," 'ermione." The French witch began, gently. "Normally, in zis type of zing, I would simply extract your memory into a pensive, and then obliviate your memory. C'est suffit!"

Hermione looked a little startled. "But...arn't we on the same side?" She reasoned.

Fleur looked amused. She arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "Ah, 'ermione! When it comes to trust, surely you are not so ... naive, to zink sat ze Black Aurors are on anyone's side but zer own?"

In spite of herself, Hermione couldn't help but to steal a glance up and down Fleur's frame. Time had been good to the former Beauxbaton student. She was perfectly manicured, and impeccably dressed. She was perfect. Then again, she had always been perfect, to Hermione. The Gryffindor could never manage to feel the disdain for the French witch that her other female classmates did. And after what she did for her at Shell Cottage, well...

There would always be a place in Hermione Granger's heart for that amazing girl who patched her up and put her back together.

"See some zing you like, Mademoiselle Granger?" She said, amused.

Hermione began to blush, furiously. "I'm sorry, my thoughts were ... drifting. You were saying?"

"I waz saying...notzing, actually. I waz watching you."

"Oh."

Hermione looked away, feeling very uncomfortable under the heat from the steely blue gaze that Fleur's cerulean blues were generating, at the moment. She closed her eyes, and willed herself to find her Gryffindor courage and get herself together.

After a moment, she opened her eyes, looking at Fleur, and forced herself to smile. "Well, then, if that's the protocol, let's get on with it, then, shall we?"

"No."

"No?" Hermione said, confused. "But I thought you said..."

"I said, no, 'ermione."

"Um...I ... I don't understand, Fleur." Hermione stammered.

The Black Ops Auror stood up, and slowly headed towards her direction, like a predator with its prey. "I said no, and I mean...no." Fleur lowered her voice. "Because I don't want you...to forget, this time."

"I don't follow?"

"Of course you don't." Fleur said, Bitterly. She was pacing in a languid way; she seemed to be admitting this to herself as much as to Hermione. "Let's start with ze Nogtails. Ze Nogtails are ours, 'ermione."

"What?"

"Zey 'ave been hexed, to ferret out stolen plutonium zat is being hidden in radiation-free containers in ze ground, across ze globe. When zis irradiated Plutonium iz charmed in a certain way, and attached to ze base of ze wand, it can make ze unforgivables curses...exponentially more so."

Hermione gasped.

"Mais oui, belle!" Fleur said, acknowledging her shock. "It will attack multiple people, not just one. Unfortunately, ze people who have acquired sis 'ave set up very dangerous booby-traps, and it is too dangerous to retrieve sis de novo; so we have trained ze Nogtail to dig out ze containers."

"Oh..."

Fleur grinned. "Zen, we slowly escalated ze Nogtail epidemic, and would release our trained ones interspersed wiz ze regular ones...and we have been very successful with zis method, until today."

"Oh." Hermione said, heart sinking. "I see. I... I never heard of this...training..." she stammered, inarticulately.

Fleur finished pacing, standing directly in front of Hermione, leaning down with her arms flanking Hermione's arm rests. Hermione tried with valiant effort not to gaze down her cleavage, on display right in front of her.

"Nor would you, 'ermione." Fleur said, pointedly. "We zink zat zere iz a mole, in ze ministry zat is assisting ze rogue Wizards wiz ze irradiated plutonium."

"Do you know who?" She asked, figuring what could it hurt to ask, if she was going to be oblivated, anyway?

Fleur chuckled, the deep and throaty laugh of hers. She looked at Hermione, briefly, and tucked a strand of Hermione's hair behind her ear.

That's nice... Hermione thought to herself, vaguely recalling something. Wait! She's done that before...she furrowed her brow, and then said with a gasp. "You've oblivated my memory before, haven't you, Fleur?" Hermione said, with a shocked realization. She then stood straight up, suddenly. The unexpected movement nearly sent the Veela sprawling backwards.

Hermione was furious. "When? When did you do it, before?" Hermione said, angrily.

Fleur sighed, rubbing her brows. She closed her eyes, and exhaled. "Shell cottage." She admitted.

"Why?" Hermione said, furious.

Fleur did not speak, for a long time, rather, she stood silently, looking away. After what felt like an eternity, she turned back to Hermione.

"In your new post as 'ead of Magical Creatures, 'ermione, tell me...what 'ave you learned about Veelas?"

Hermione shook her head. "Not much. They are very secretive, as you well know, and actually classified as extremely dangerous because of their physical prowess, speed, and hyper-intellegnece. This, coupled with their human-form thrall, makes them a very persuasive and deadly foe, if angered."

"Hmm. And what did you zink of zis?"

"Well, if you must know, the more I read about your physical abilities, the more I wondered why you sucked at the Triwizard Tournament, actually." Her eyes widened. "No offense, Fleur."

Fleur chuckled. "None taken, belle. A good point. And, if I might add, it took ze brightest witch of ze era to realize zat."

"Realize what?"

"Zat I ... how you say... "threw"? I threw ze tournament."

"What? Why?" Hermione said, incredulously.

"Well..." Fleur said, in a far away voice, "It waz between ze first and second tasks, actually, zat I was recruited into ze Black Forces, 'ermione. My 'andlers didn't want me to win. It would bring too much notoriety, actually."

"He-your handler- actually asked you to do that, Fleur? That's insane!"

"She, 'ermione. She. My 'andler was a she...and yes, she did."

Hermione just shook her head, but it made sense to her. Fleur should have run rings around the other Champions.

"Well, that explains a lot." Hermione said. "I hope your "handler" bought you a nice drink, afterwards!"

"Well, no, not exactly...she died, shortly thereafter. My 'andler was ... my mozzer, Apollene." Fleur sighed. "I had no choice, really, ozer san to go into ze family business, so to speak."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "Oh, Bloody Hell! You're kidding me!"

Fleur laughed. "Zat's exactly what you said, ze first time!"

Hermione's eyes grew dark, as Fleur continued. "I told you about zis, at Shell Cottage, and why I couldn't be wiz you, 'ermione, despite my 'eart crying out desperately for you..."

A single tear fell from her eye, and she looked downward, ashamed. Hermione resisted the urge to comfort her.

She looked up, sorrowful. "In your readings, what did you learn about Veelas and zee mates, 'ermione?"

Hermione's jaw was tight. "Very little." She said, briskly.

"Well, let me tell you, zen. Ze Veela has but one "perfect one." One chance, to get it right. I didn't realize, completely, sat you were my one during ze Triwizard tournament, because you were underage." She paused. "But what 'append, at Shell Cottage, 'ermione?"

Hermione's eyes widened with realization. "My...my birthday..." she said, quietly.

"Oui. Your birthday, 'ermione. You became...of age. And my Veela recognized you; you, 'ermione, its one and only true love and mate." She exhaled.

Hermione slammed her eyes shut with the admission, a series of memories assaulting her. Times they were lying together at the beach; times they laughed; times they had meaningful talks; times they made lunch; times Fleur rubbed her feet; times they kissed...

"No, no, no!" Hermione wailed, now crying, the emotions too much for her to relive. "How could you?"

Fleur looked stoic, and utterly defeated. "Really? 'ermione, I was going to leave for a suicide mission, wiz Bill, shortly after your departure! We weren't expected to live! Why would I tie you to me, when I thought I was going to die?"

"Really?" Hermione asked, skeptically. She wiped her eyes, and asked, cynically. "Well! What happened?"

The French Veela stepped disturbingly closer. "Well," she began slowly, "We lived. And I have not stopped zinking about you, ever since." She admitted. "And I can't help but wonder, if fate has brought us back togezher over zees silly creatures, for a reason..."

Hermione sighed. "Fleur, let's just get this over with. Do what you have to do." Hermione slumped down in the chair, preparing for her mind to be erased.

Fleur aimed her wand, pointing it at the younger witch.

"First, answer me zis, 'ermione...could you have ever loved me, back, do you zink?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Could I have? What? Are you mental, Fleur? Could I have loved you..." She muttered, disgusted. "Fleur, I always have!" She huffed. "Now, get on with it, please!"

Fleur aimed her wand at Hermione's chest, and the Gryffindor braced herself.

As the Black Ops Auror incanted her spell, Hermione expected a bolt of amber light to shoot from her wand, the memory erasing spell that she herself had once cast.

However, no Amber light shot out.

Instead, a spell was uttered that Hermione was unfamiliar with. Instead of a flash of Amber light, a small fizzle of pink shot out from the end of Fleur's wand. And in from of Hermione Jean Granger was two dozen red and pink roses, wrapped with a white bow.

Fleur leaned over, and picked them up. She kneeled before the brunette, looking ashamed.

"I can't take back ze past, 'ermione; but our chemistry is undeniable! All I can hope, all I can ask...is zat you be mine. Can you forgive me, 'ermione? Can you find it in your 'eart, to commit to me, and be my one true love?"

Hermione looked at the earnest face in front of her, all thoughts of errant Nogtails, plutonium, moles, and other things flying out of her head. Instead, she looked at the gorgeous woman before her, and uttered the singular thought remaining in her head:

"Of course, goose! " Hermione smiled. "I already have."

The End.