(Harry Potter) Worthy of you: Chapter 20 - Veela Effect

Chapter 20 - Veela Effect

Summary: Hermione’s summer takes a surprising turn with a magical encounter.

Hermione set her suitcase on the neatly made bed and paused, letting her eyes wander to the open balcony doors where sheer curtains danced in the sea breeze.

The room was bright and airy, with soft white walls, pale wooden floors, and a faint scent of salt clinging to the morning air. Beyond the railing, she could just make out the curve of the coastline—sandy stretches broken by jagged rocks, and waves that rolled in quietly under a pale blue sky.

It was beautiful here. Peaceful. Very different from the stone corridors of Hogwarts or the heavy silence of the hospital wing. She brushed her fingers over the linen bedspread, grounding herself. This was supposed to be a week to relax—to recover.

And though a small part of her still felt tense, as if she were waiting for something to go wrong, another part of her—quieter, but stronger—wanted to let the calm in. Just for a little while.

She loved those vacations with her parents but this year she felt like there were better things she could do than relax on some beach in France.

She spent two months of the last year in the hospital wing, unable to move, speak, read, nothing at all. If it wasn't for Harry she would have lost her mind.

But thankfully her best friend had a heart of gold and a rather clever mind, more so than he let on for the past couple of years.

He would tell her, and apparently everyone else in the hospital wing, about what was happening around the school, about their latest charm lessons or potions and so on... Well, Hermione supposed it was less useful to some upperclassmen like Penelope, but she was sure it was at least entertaining enough for them to not go crazy.

The thought of her best friend caused her heart rate to increase for a moment.

Since they became friends over a year and a half ago, it was obvious to her that Harry's friendship with Ron was more important to him than theirs, and while she kept calling him her best friend from the bottom of her heart she resigned herself to the reality she would always be his second-best friend after Ron Weasley.

Something that was a little hard to accept at times because of her own feelings toward the ginger annoyance.

But something changed in Harry, now that she thinks about it, it began after he found the note in her hand.

She is still a little mad it took him an entire month to find that. Then again, when he took her frozen hand in his warm one, for a moment she felt as if she was floating on air rather than stuck on the same bed for a month.

Before that, Harry would talk about the usual random stuff around the school, but after that he began showing more personality.

He shared his opinion on a lot of different things, he described trips he did to the library and different books he read there.

It was nice to get to know the real Harry better. She wished she could have responded to him, and told him more about herself as well, but she won't complain about what she got, and maybe, just maybe, soon enough they will be able to have a more two sided conversation like the ones he had with her at nights inside of the hospital wing.

Hermione shook her head with a small heat spreading on her cheeks.

How did she reach that topic? Oh yeah, she tried to point out that she had better things to do rather than spend her time in a hotel in France.

Harry apparently now has a place where he can practice magic during the summer. She would love the extra practice after all the classes she is missing, and he is even living with a professor! Hermione had to admit it, but she was a little jealous of Harry at the moment.

Hermione took a deep breath and reminded herself that Harry promised to talk with her after she came back and he would surely invite her to visit and train with him and professor Lupin.

Maybe she really should just focus on taking this week and relax with her parents, she sees so little of them since she began attending Hogwarts.

Just as she thought that her mom entered the room, carrying a suitcase of her own, her dad probably still busy lugging around the rest of them.

Hermione giggled in her mind as she thought about what her grandfather said to her dad a few days ago. 'I pity you son, going on vacation with two women is man's worst nightmare.'

Her mom smiled when she saw the improved mood Hermione was in, "I see you're finally getting into the spirit, Sweety."

Hermione smiled apologetically to her mom, "Sorry mom, it wasn't that I didn't want to come mom, I just think there were other things I should be doing, after all I was bedridden for two months."

Her mom sighed heavily at the reminder of it. Her parents were very worried about her and even sent a letter to Hogwarts, a letter Harry answered with the brutal truth she had no intention of telling her parents at first. "I understand Sweety, but that was a stressful experience for all of us. I think a little calming rest is exactly what we need for the start of the summer." She ended cheerfully.

Hermione nodded with a smile, "I agree, mom. I didn't realize how much I need it. Thank you."

Hermione suddenly felt the warm embrace of her mother as the older woman whispered, "We only want the best for you, dear."

"I know mom, I know." Hermione whispered as she hugged her back.

Her dad walked in exactly at that moment, carrying four suitcases with him. He stopped in the entrance to the room and asked helplessly, "What did I miss?"

The sun was warm on her skin, heavy in a comforting way, like a thick quilt she didn't mind being buried under. Hermione lay back on the slightly scratchy fabric of the tanning bed, her arms stretched loosely at her sides, sunglasses shielding her eyes from the bright Breton sky above. The soft crash of waves rolled in from the shore in a steady rhythm, occasionally broken by laughter—children running along the water's edge, someone calling for a beach ball, the singsong murmur of French carried on the wind.

Her mother was beside her on the neighboring bed, humming faintly as she tilted her face to the sun. Her dad had wandered off ten minutes ago, promising cold drinks and likely getting distracted by something informative. Hermione smiled faintly at the thought but didn't open her eyes.

She resisted the urge to reach for the nonexistent book in her beach bag—twice already. Her mother had made her leave it behind at the hotel, with that soft but immovable tone that only mothers could truly master: "You need to rest, darling. Not your mind—your everything." And maybe, for once, her mother had been right.

It was... strange, lying there with nothing to read, nothing to do, just herself and the sun and the echoing world around her. Strange, too, to be wearing a two-piece bikini for the first time in her life. It was deep navy blue with thin white trim, nothing extravagant, but it still felt bold. Her mother had helped her pick it out just the day before, insisting she had the figure for it, but Hermione couldn't help glancing—discreetly—at the elegant women passing by with flowing sarongs and effortless grace. Some were tanned like sun goddesses, lounging with lazy perfection. Others strolled confidently with their partners, not a single awkward step in sight.

Hermione shifted slightly, crossing one ankle over the other. She wasn't one of them. She knew that. But for once, she wasn't buried in her robes or worrying about exams or trying to remember the counter-curse for some obscure jinx. There were no school corridors, no castle shadows, no mirrors showing her stiff in a hospital bed.

Just sun. And sand. And air.

And for the first time in a long time, she didn't feel like the girl who was almost turned to stone.

She was just... Hermione. A girl with unruly hair, slightly awkward elbows, a quiet mind trying to be quiet for a day. Resting.

Maybe she could get used to this.

That was until she could feel something subtle in the air. A little shimmer of magic flowing around in the breeze.

The feeling was similar to the one she got on the grounds of Hogwarts when people were using magic, but on a much smaller scale.

But it wasn't just the kind of magic she was used to; it was something different. Magic she usually felt and ignored, she got used to it in the past couple of years, but the sort of magic she felt now demanded her attention.

It was like her eyes were forced to focus on a pair of girls playing just at the edge of the water.

The first girl she noticed caused her to inhale sharply, and her heart to skip a beat. She looked a couple of years older than her, maybe 15 or 16 years old. She had a mature figure with long flowing blonde hair and smooth, pale skin. She was wearing a bikini like Hermione's but hers was pale blue and looked much smaller on her figure.

Hermione tried to calm her heart and move her eyes away from the older teen, but she couldn't find the strength in herself to do so.

The bushy haired girl never considered herself one to be attracted to other girls. The only person she was ever attracted to was Harry, with his lean, athletic body, messy hair and deep green eyes.

The teen in front of her was something different, and still Hermione couldn't find it in herself to deny the attraction she felt right now. It was a feeling so overwhelming that she wanted to go and speak with her.

Fortunately, she had enough willpower to at least not embarrass herself that much, it was already bad she was practically drooling over the older teen as it was.

Her cheeks burned when she remembered her mother was still next to her. Hermione turned her head slowly to see her mom had her eyes closed under her own sunglasses and almost let out a sigh of relief.

When she looked back at the pair of girls she was staring at, most of the spell she felt under disappeared and she noticed the second girl.

That one was younger than Hermione herself, maybe 10 years old, her own blonde hair was tied in a simple pigtail style. She was wearing a one-piece, white swimsuit. The girl was bouncing trying to reach for something the older girl was waving above her head.

Hermione's eyes widened when she noticed the tree branch the older girl was waving in the air in a very familiar pattern.

The only logical conclusion was that the gorgeous teen was a witch!

Now Hermione really wanted to get up and talk with her. There was so much she wanted to ask the older teen about magical France and their own magical school.

Hermione wasn't sure what to do. If this was happening last summer, the choice would be clear. Stay on the bed and try to ignore the curiosity.

But the last year opened her up a lot. Between Harry paying her more attention and giving her more confidence, to the couple of study sessions she had with Susan and Daphne in the beginning of the year, and even Tonks, the new friend she acquired during the train ride back. She felt like socializing was not the horrible experience she was used to from her childhood.

Maybe there was also some residue of the spell she felt earlier because suddenly Hermione found herself standing up from her bed and walking toward the pair of girls she was rudely staring at for the past few minutes.

As she got closer behind the older teen, Hermione's heart rate kept going up. Until she finally took a deep breath and spoke in English, "Excuse me."

The beautiful smile playing on the older teen's lips faded away into a natural look as she turned toward Hermione, raised a perfect eyebrow at her and asked in a heavy French accent, "Oui?"