Chapter One- The French Kiss
Oh, here she comes, Hermione thought, narrowing her eyes in intense dislike as the tall slim figure of Fleur Delacour broke the glassy surface of the lake with a splash, marking the end of her attempt at the Second Triwizard Task.
That stuck-up French skrewt, why couldn't she just drown down there?
The third Triwizard Champion shook her soaking blonde hair out of her eyes and scrambled to the banks of the Hogwarts lake in uncharacteristic ungainliness. When she reached her fellow Champions and their rescued hostages, Hermione sidled away from her, as though everything she hated about the Beauxbatons champion was contagious. Shivering under the blanket Madame Pomfrey had supplied her with, Fleur gazed anxiously at the icy lake, apparently praying wordlessly for her sister's welfare. Hermione's continued glares at her went unnoticed.
Hermione felt slightly uncomfortable, hating Fleur so much, when she was so downcast about failing to save her sister in the lake. She'd met Gabrielle Delacour last night at Professor McGonagall's office, before the bewitched underwater sleep was shed over the four hostages, and a sweeter, quieter little girl she had never met anywhere. Why couldn't Fleur be more like her sister? But then, Hermione supposed, it wasn't Fleur's arrogant and flirtatious nature that were responsible for the hatred Hermione felt for her...it was the effect she had on her two best friends...
A splash in the lake interrupted Hermione's thoughts. Her eyes darted to the water, hoping to see Ron and Harry, but all that broke the surface was one of giant squid's tentacles. It was only then that Hermione realised how worried she was about Harry and Ron - when she'd last seen Harry, he was hopelessly searching through library book after library book for a suitable underwater-breathing spell, and the look on his face when Fred and George had called her and Ron down to Professor McGonagall's office, stated only too clearly that his chances of success were very low indeed. Yet he must have found some way, because he was nowhere to be seen, and there was no way he would have forfeited - no Gryffindor would do that, especially not her Harry...
Viktor was now trying to engage her in conversation - she half-heard him say something about how he'd never felt this way about any other girl and how much it would mean to him if she could visit him in Bulgaria over the summer, but she really wasn't listening. She was too busy surveying the steely mass of iron-grey water for any sign of a ripple...something...anything from the two boys she cared most about in the world. She felt a little hurt that Ron was chosen as the person Harry would miss most, as opposed to her, but tried comforting herself by assuming that Dumbledore needed her to be Krum's hostage instead. Deep down, she wasn't convinced.
Ten of the most tense minutes in her life later, three splashes smashed the glassy surface of the lake into a million ripples as Harry, Ron and Gabrielle Delacour's heads bobbed out of the water, taking grateful gulps of the clear winter air and looking like breathing was a gift they'd never take for granted again. In a wave of inexpressible joy and relief, Hermione was surprised at the powerful urge she felt, to run up to her friends and kiss them both. She was just jerking her wet shivering legs into a run, when a flash of silver-blonde raced past her, crying, "Gabrielle! Gabrielle! Is she alive? Is she 'urt?", only to be restrained by Madame Maxime's huge arm.
Percy, meanwhile, white and looking considerably younger than usual, went splashing out to meet the shivering trio, by Dumbledore's request.
Harry, drenched to the bone and wrapped in a warm Madame-Pomfrey-supplied blanket, went over to join her a few minutes later. Much as she wanted to fling her arms around him and kiss him, , all that came tumbling out of her mouth, as he moved towards her, was "Harry, well done! You found how, all by yourself."
Why couldn't she just kiss him? What was she afraid of?
Then the last voice she wanted to hear muttered "You haff a water-beetle in your hair, Hermy-own-ninny."
And while she brushed aside the beetle and the comment, Ron joined them, having finally been wrenched from Percy by Madame Pomfrey. Now was her chance, Hermione thought. She loved them both, Harry and Ron, how or why, or who she loved more, she had no idea. All she knew was that they were her whole world, she loved them and that she'll never let them out of her sight again. And now was her chance to show it to them.
"Um, Harry, Ron..." Hermione began, but Fleur came sweeping over to Harry, her sopping robes clinging to her perfect body and said, "You saved 'er. Even though she was not your 'ostage."
"Yeah," Harry sighed, looking like he deeply regretted it.
Fleur swooped down on him and kissed him twice on each cheek, with the strong seductive passion the Veelas at the World Cup possessed.
Hermione was quivering with uncontrollable fury, and her hand closed automatically over her wand under her blanket. But the worst was yet to come -
"And you, too," Fleur purred to Ron, "you 'elped."
"Yeah," said Ron, with a tone so hopeful it broke Hermione's heart, "yeah a bit..."
As Fleur kissed Ron, Hermione's knees began to buckle. She felt her heart break slowly and painfully as it sank slowly and sickeningly into her disappearing stomach. The dazed, dreamy look on the boys' faces pierced her heart like a dagger. How could she possibly compete with a part-Veela? She wasn't half as pretty, half as forceful or seductive...and she didn't want to be. She hoped Ron and Harry would love her for the bushy-haired, big-hearted, gentle, caring Hermione Granger she was, the same way she loved them for who they were. The looks on their faces, however clearly stated what kind of girl they were interested in, and it wasn't what Hermione had to offer.
Hermione almost didn't object when Viktor draped his arm around her shoulder as the marks were given. She hardly noticed. In the back of her mind, she felt terrible for ignoring him like this – he had saved her life, after all, and she obviously meant a lot to him, or she wouldn't have been chosen as his hostage. She was very fond of him, too – he was very sweet, as well as an excellent date for the Ball (if not her first choice) and she often got extremely annoyed when anyone held the old Durmstrang prejudice against him…
Now she was really confused – she was in love with her two best friends, neither of whom loved her, and she rather liked Viktor, who, in return, seemed to love her… yet she didn't love Viktor, she wanted Harry and Ron…
As they joined the rest of the school trouping back to the castle a few minutes later, only one thought rang furiously in Hermione's head -
"I'll get you for this, Blondie! If it's the last thing I do - I'll get you for this!"
A/N This is a prologue for the story. Not much of a plot just yet, but I hope it's okay anyway. Like I said, this is more of a preface rather than a first chapter. The story really begins next chapter. Please please review! By the way, the chapter title the word "kiss" is the verb here – it's like "the French can kiss" or "do kiss". Clever, eh? Thought of it myself!
Oh, here she comes, Hermione thought, narrowing her eyes in intense dislike as the tall slim figure of Fleur Delacour broke the glassy surface of the lake with a splash, marking the end of her attempt at the Second Triwizard Task.
That stuck-up French skrewt, why couldn't she just drown down there?
The third Triwizard Champion shook her soaking blonde hair out of her eyes and scrambled to the banks of the Hogwarts lake in uncharacteristic ungainliness. When she reached her fellow Champions and their rescued hostages, Hermione sidled away from her, as though everything she hated about the Beauxbatons champion was contagious. Shivering under the blanket Madame Pomfrey had supplied her with, Fleur gazed anxiously at the icy lake, apparently praying wordlessly for her sister's welfare. Hermione's continued glares at her went unnoticed.
Hermione felt slightly uncomfortable, hating Fleur so much, when she was so downcast about failing to save her sister in the lake. She'd met Gabrielle Delacour last night at Professor McGonagall's office, before the bewitched underwater sleep was shed over the four hostages, and a sweeter, quieter little girl she had never met anywhere. Why couldn't Fleur be more like her sister? But then, Hermione supposed, it wasn't Fleur's arrogant and flirtatious nature that were responsible for the hatred Hermione felt for her...it was the effect she had on her two best friends...
A splash in the lake interrupted Hermione's thoughts. Her eyes darted to the water, hoping to see Ron and Harry, but all that broke the surface was one of giant squid's tentacles. It was only then that Hermione realised how worried she was about Harry and Ron - when she'd last seen Harry, he was hopelessly searching through library book after library book for a suitable underwater-breathing spell, and the look on his face when Fred and George had called her and Ron down to Professor McGonagall's office, stated only too clearly that his chances of success were very low indeed. Yet he must have found some way, because he was nowhere to be seen, and there was no way he would have forfeited - no Gryffindor would do that, especially not her Harry...
Viktor was now trying to engage her in conversation - she half-heard him say something about how he'd never felt this way about any other girl and how much it would mean to him if she could visit him in Bulgaria over the summer, but she really wasn't listening. She was too busy surveying the steely mass of iron-grey water for any sign of a ripple...something...anything from the two boys she cared most about in the world. She felt a little hurt that Ron was chosen as the person Harry would miss most, as opposed to her, but tried comforting herself by assuming that Dumbledore needed her to be Krum's hostage instead. Deep down, she wasn't convinced.
Ten of the most tense minutes in her life later, three splashes smashed the glassy surface of the lake into a million ripples as Harry, Ron and Gabrielle Delacour's heads bobbed out of the water, taking grateful gulps of the clear winter air and looking like breathing was a gift they'd never take for granted again. In a wave of inexpressible joy and relief, Hermione was surprised at the powerful urge she felt, to run up to her friends and kiss them both. She was just jerking her wet shivering legs into a run, when a flash of silver-blonde raced past her, crying, "Gabrielle! Gabrielle! Is she alive? Is she 'urt?", only to be restrained by Madame Maxime's huge arm.
Percy, meanwhile, white and looking considerably younger than usual, went splashing out to meet the shivering trio, by Dumbledore's request.
Harry, drenched to the bone and wrapped in a warm Madame-Pomfrey-supplied blanket, went over to join her a few minutes later. Much as she wanted to fling her arms around him and kiss him, , all that came tumbling out of her mouth, as he moved towards her, was "Harry, well done! You found how, all by yourself."
Why couldn't she just kiss him? What was she afraid of?
Then the last voice she wanted to hear muttered "You haff a water-beetle in your hair, Hermy-own-ninny."
And while she brushed aside the beetle and the comment, Ron joined them, having finally been wrenched from Percy by Madame Pomfrey. Now was her chance, Hermione thought. She loved them both, Harry and Ron, how or why, or who she loved more, she had no idea. All she knew was that they were her whole world, she loved them and that she'll never let them out of her sight again. And now was her chance to show it to them.
"Um, Harry, Ron..." Hermione began, but Fleur came sweeping over to Harry, her sopping robes clinging to her perfect body and said, "You saved 'er. Even though she was not your 'ostage."
"Yeah," Harry sighed, looking like he deeply regretted it.
Fleur swooped down on him and kissed him twice on each cheek, with the strong seductive passion the Veelas at the World Cup possessed.
Hermione was quivering with uncontrollable fury, and her hand closed automatically over her wand under her blanket. But the worst was yet to come -
"And you, too," Fleur purred to Ron, "you 'elped."
"Yeah," said Ron, with a tone so hopeful it broke Hermione's heart, "yeah a bit..."
As Fleur kissed Ron, Hermione's knees began to buckle. She felt her heart break slowly and painfully as it sank slowly and sickeningly into her disappearing stomach. The dazed, dreamy look on the boys' faces pierced her heart like a dagger. How could she possibly compete with a part-Veela? She wasn't half as pretty, half as forceful or seductive...and she didn't want to be. She hoped Ron and Harry would love her for the bushy-haired, big-hearted, gentle, caring Hermione Granger she was, the same way she loved them for who they were. The looks on their faces, however clearly stated what kind of girl they were interested in, and it wasn't what Hermione had to offer.
Hermione almost didn't object when Viktor draped his arm around her shoulder as the marks were given. She hardly noticed. In the back of her mind, she felt terrible for ignoring him like this – he had saved her life, after all, and she obviously meant a lot to him, or she wouldn't have been chosen as his hostage. She was very fond of him, too – he was very sweet, as well as an excellent date for the Ball (if not her first choice) and she often got extremely annoyed when anyone held the old Durmstrang prejudice against him…
Now she was really confused – she was in love with her two best friends, neither of whom loved her, and she rather liked Viktor, who, in return, seemed to love her… yet she didn't love Viktor, she wanted Harry and Ron…
As they joined the rest of the school trouping back to the castle a few minutes later, only one thought rang furiously in Hermione's head -
"I'll get you for this, Blondie! If it's the last thing I do - I'll get you for this!"
A/N This is a prologue for the story. Not much of a plot just yet, but I hope it's okay anyway. Like I said, this is more of a preface rather than a first chapter. The story really begins next chapter. Please please review! By the way, the chapter title the word "kiss" is the verb here – it's like "the French can kiss" or "do kiss". Clever, eh? Thought of it myself!