A/N: New story! Before my last paper tomorrow. The title is probably temporary, until I think of a better one. Also, I feel that Fleur is not a name a boy would have, but let's just ignore that fact and accept that there might be parents who would name their boy Fleur. I didn't want to change her name. it just wouldn't be Fleur Hermione anymore. D:

I don't know French, so kindly use your imagination and pretend the conversations between Fleur and her family are in french.

This is mainly AU. Also I've made Fleur younger, so she's only one year older than the trio, but they are in the same grade. Another thing to note would be the triwizard tournament does not at all occur in this fic.

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.

Review if you like it. :D

A young Fleur Delacour bit her lip, sneaked a glance at her mother before deciding to innocently ask a question that had bothered her all this while, "Maman, wh-why do I have to wear this?"

Apolline never bothered looking down.

The tiny Fleur, who was wearing a blue shirt and shorts, had short silvery blonde hair that was just reached her ears. Her face, although young, one could just take a glance at her and they would know she'll turn into a great beauty. Her small fingers clutched onto the suit tightly, waiting for her mother to acknowledge her, to give her a reply. Her mother let out a soft sigh before speaking, all this while not looking at her daughter, "Fleur, from today onwards, you are a boy."

Fleur blinked. She was confused, very confused. She had just spent the past ten years of her life as Fleur Delacour, a girl, and now, right before her eleventh birthday, her mother tells her that she's a boy. "Maman?" She tried to approach her mother again.

"I don't understand you, Maman. I'm a girl. Why do I always have to wear this, this boys clothing? Why don't I have any dresses like the ones I've read about girls wearing them in books? Why can't I leave the house? Why does Maman say that I'm a boy? Do girls turn into boys at eleven? Will Gabby turn into a boy when she becomes as old as me?" she bombarded her mother with questions that she had accumulated over the years, but never dared to ask.

Apolline looked as if she had an internal struggle within herself. Her eyes tensed and she allowed herself to stroke Fleur's hair gently. "You'll understand when you grow old," She said grimly, before continuing to speak, "But right now, from this moment, you will no longer behave as a girl. Do you understand?"

The silvery blonde head bobbed in understanding. Her sapphire eyes, widened, as if waiting in anticipation for her mother to continue her explanation. But there was none.

Instead, Apolline signaled to Fleur's grandmother, who walked over as gracefully as one at that age could, before she spoke again," Your grandmother here will teach you everything you need to know about becoming a boy."

With that said and done, Apolline Delacour walked away with a wrenched heart, her eyes glistening, all this while, she never turned back to look at her daughter once more, and muttered quietly, "Happy birthday Fleur, happy birthday."

Fleur Delacour, now eleven, twenty days and two months old, stepped into the Beauxbatons hall in silky blue robes with her wand tucked into matching blue pants. Her hair was swept back and had grown a little longer in those four months. She was a boy now, but part of her feared that if she kept up this pretense for too long, she would forget that she was once a girl. She had begged her grandmother desperately, to allow her to retain a small part of her which Fleur considered feminine. Something that she was never allowed to since young. Something she had always wanted to try, something she longed for when she stared with envy at pictures of other girls her age. Fleur requested for permission to grow her hair out.

Her grandmother (was that pity in her eyes?), to Fleur's surprise had obliged. "But my dear Fleur, make sure that no matter what happens, you are a boy. Promise me, to stay strong, and never, ever tell anyone your true gender."

Thankful to her grandmother and ignoring the many questions that resided in her, Fleur had promised to do her best. She shifted her feet awkwardly while she admired the silver chandeliers that lit up the entire hall, taking in new sights. Beauxbatons was indeed as incredible as she had read about, in her textbooks. "Salut!" a boy, standing next to her said.

Fleur tensed, feeling rather uncomfortable. She had rarely spoken to anyone who was not in her family and she didn't get to practice much, in that short time she had. "B-Bonjour," she replied nervously, stuttering a little.

The boy didn't seem to notice, shrugging off that nervousness in her greeting as someone who was nervous to start boarding school. He smiled at her before proceeding to greet the others in a relatively chatty manner. Fleur Delacour then, already knew that cross-dressing was a difficult task, but she would never expect, how much worse it could get in the future. She never took Divinations.

Fleur never saw her mother since that day. Every time she returned to her mansion in France during the summer holidays, the only ones she saw waiting for her were the ones who always replied her owls, her grandmother and her sister. Her father was always busy, somewhere out there, doing his job. As for her mother, it was an unspoken rule, no one made any mention about Apolline at all.

She would do the same thing every summer, tell her grandmother about the woes that she couldn't write in letters, mainly involving comical situations about her having to be a boy, but never once complaining. Her grandmother would sit there patiently in her rocking chair and chuckle. Fleur would then play with her sister, who she knew would have the same fate as her, do her homework, read, and drink the potion that her grandmother made for her. It was something that she had to drink every month. Her grandmother had told her it was something she had to drink to ensure that her secret would not leak. What exactly that greenish potion did, Fleur never knew. And on the day of her birthday, she would ask her grandmother the same question every year, "Am I old enough now?"

Her grandmother would smile at her, touch her hair the way her mother last did, and say in a soft gentle voice, "Not yet, my dear Fleur."

She would then resume the usual activities until it was time to return back to Beauxbatons. This happened for the past three years. But this year, it was slightly different.

A fifteen year old Fleur was standing at King Cross Station, platform 9 and ¾, with her long hair tied in a low ponytail. She had matured beautifully throughout the 4 years spent at Beauxbatons and experienced many things. For starters, she learned that keeping quiet, doing her homework diligently and being aloof, so as to avoid unnecessary interaction with others had the contrary effect. This behavior, coupled by her pretty face had only resulted in her very own fanclub, filled with girls and boys, who admired Fleur, the pretty boy. Cringing at that memory, Fleur heaved a sigh of relief as she entered into a cabin, settling down. She knew she made the right choice of behaving that way, when her grandmother, broke the mini-tradition they had formed, and told her that she'll be leaving Beauxbatons and studying in Hogwarts instead. Staring out of the window, waiting for the train to move, she had a recollection.

"Grandmère, why Hogwarts?" she asked politely, "I've been doing fine in Beauxbatons."

"That is why you are going to Hogwarts," her grandmother replied, pausing a little before she continued to speak, "That was the plan. For you to undergo training in Beauxbatons as a boy, ascertaining that your disguise would not let up, before we send you to study in another country. Because no one would know you there, and that itself is a good thing."

Fleur had merely nodded, knowing that there were many more things that she was kept in the dark from. She would wait, patiently for the day she turns of age, an age in which her family would deem her worthy of knowing the information.

Breaking free from the window, Fleur resisted an urge to express her shock. She remembered vividly that the carriage was empty when she entered, and now, there were three other people sitting in it. A redhead, a brunette and sitting right next to her, a boy in glasses, coupled with messy jet-black hair. The brunette, who was holding the Standard Book of Spells, grade 4, first spoke, "Uh, we're sorry. We couldn't find an empty carriage and you were sitting alone, so we tried to ask for your permission but you didn't seem to be responding to us as you were busy…"

"Zat zis fine, I do not mind," Fleur replied curtly.

"I've never seen you before!" the redhead exclaimed.

Fleur frowned, that boy was (rude?), she didn't know a word to describe him. "I would be surprised if you saw me. I'm Fleur, Fleur Delacour, transfer student from France," and she reached out her hands at the other two, blatantly showing her displeasure at the redhead.

"Hello Fleur. I'm Harry, Harry Potter, nice to meet you," and he smiled at her, shaking her hand.

"Hermione Granger. That rude boy is Ronald Weasley. He's tactless, so don't take it too hard. I never thought I'll meet a transfer student. I mean, Hogwarts: A History only mentioned about it a few times. I'm really surprised. Were you studying in Beauxbatons? How was it there? Are you in our year? I'm sorry for rambling, there's just so much that I want to ask you-"

"Zat zis fine, 'Ermione," Fleur spoke, saying her name for the first time, and shuddering at how uncouth her English sounded. The possibility of another fanclub forming in Hogwarts was worse and she was glad to have a chance to learn more about the English and Hogwarts.

"I zink we 'ave a long way before we get to Hogwarts, non? I'll answer as many as I can," Fleur replied, "I will be in the same year as you,"

Ron cut her off, "How did you know what year we're in?"

Fleur pointed at Hermione's book, before continuing to speak.

By the time they arrived outside the castle gates, she had not only managed to learn some information that Hogwarts: A History, didn't include, such as the different Defense Against the Dark Arts Professors they got each year, the trio she just met had also kindly hoped fervently that she wouldn't be sorted into Slytherin. "Good luck," Harry mouthed to her, patting her back.

Fleur grinned at them as they separated at the hall. "I think he's prettier than a Veela!" Ron commented, his eyes following the other thinner boy's back.

"Don't be stupid Ron. Young Veelas no longer exist now. And there's no such thing as a male Veela. He just has good genes," Hermione retorted, "And besides, I didn't know you swing that way."

Harry just laughed.