A.N: All right, chapter 2! Thanks to all those who reviewed, you guys really made my day! =) Junior college is...hectic, but I'm trying my best. Plot bunnies are evasive, but I'll catch them one day. xD

And for the problem with my tenses...Please point them out to me if you guys spotted any! Looking for a beta-reader xD

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For the sixth years, the first few days back breezed pass in the blink of an eye, far too quickly for their liking. Neither were the first lessons of every subject interesting or welcoming to them, what with all that seemingly incessant nagging from their subject professors. Constant reminders were laid upon them again and again, and all the reminders pointed blatantly to the fact that the NEWTs were fast approaching in less than two years time. Mere days were all it took to etch that fact deeply into their heads, whether they had liked it or not. It was so extreme to the extent that Hermione Granger found herself learning Professor McGonagall's lecture on the importance of the NEWTs by heart, after having heard it for at least three times. It couldn't be helped; the sixth years' performance in Transfiguration were so far from the strict woman's desired standard that she found herself repeating the same old speech every other lesson, in quite an agitated and worked up manner too.

It wasn't that the students had not knocked that dreaded fact into their head. The transition to the higher level of education was not as easy as most had initially thought. Some were already struggling with their work, and it was barely one month back at school. Well, not all were in that tragic state though. There were some exceptional individuals, who with their high level of adaptability and intellect, managed to cope with the heavy topics and complex wandwork. Hermione was, not surprisingly, one of them. Seeing that she had started her preparations during the summer break, it was not much of a surprise, really. What was surprising though was that she still felt that she was not doing enough.

"'Ermio-ne, whuy arh yew rehding tha' now? Eet's brehkfast!"

Specks of food and saliva flew out from Ron's bulging mouth, which was so fully stuffed that it took every ounce of effort for him to chew and swallow without choking. Taking that into consideration, it could be considered quite an achievement for him to speak, even though what he said was hardly understandable. Hermione seemed to think otherwise though; her expression explained everything. She snapped the thick volume of Tricky Transfiguration shut and attempted to dodge the horrible spray of food. Disgust was apparent on her face, and her lips were pulled back in an obvious grimace as she recoiled away from the sprinkler of a boy.

Harry thumped the glutton of a boy on the back, and that was all it took for the redhead to jerk forward sharply and swallow everything down in a single breath. A coughing fit took over as the poor boy grabbed his throat with his massive, rough hands in a vain attempt to clear his airway.

The sight of Ron hacking and coughing away invoked the slightest amount of pity in the brunette. Hermione wasn't all that heartless; if she were, she would not have been sorted into Gryffindor house but Slytherin instead, right? Seeing this as the wrong time to be angry with Ron, who was turning a nasty shade of purple as his body shook with violent coughs, Hermione, though somewhat reluctantly, whipped her vinewood wand out. A flick of her wrist, a thought of the incantation, and Ronald's windpipe was unblocked. She hastily whipped her precious book out of harm's way once again as Ron gasped and spluttered, gulping down huge volumes of air thankfully.

"Th-thanks..."

The brunette merely turned her face away irritably as she stuck her wand back into the confines of her robes after siphoning off the bits of food sprayed onto her unfortunate book. Ron shot a glare at Harry, who merely shrugged and returned to his plate.

"You should take smaller bites, Ron. Preferably more manageable ones."

Stubbornness seemed to run in the blood of the long standing Weasley clan. Ignoring Harry's wise advice, the redhead stabbed a hard-boiled egg (the shell has already been removed) quite aggressively and shoved the entire egg into his cavernous mouth. Not more than a second later, Ronald suffered the consequence of his ignorance and choked.

Again.

Having enough of all the nonsense, Hermione rolled her eyes, gathered her stuff in silence and stiffly walked off towards the Entrance Hall with her head stuck high. Ronald, with his eyes streaming from the violent coughing fit, poured the entire contents of his goblet into his mouth and then thumped his fist repeatedly against his chest.

"See? I told you." A calm Harry merely continued with his breakfast, finishing the last few mouthfuls of scrambled eggs and toast. Ron choke over his food so very often that Harry couldn't be bothered to care, for he knew that it was nothing unusual or life-threatening. At least not for Ronald Weasley.

After breakfast, and after Ron had got over his second choking of the day, the boys hastily headed back to the Gryffindor Tower and their dormitories to grab their Transfiguration stuff. They had not seen Hermione ever since she left the breakfast table, and both assumed that she had headed off for class straight without them, which was exactly what she had done. Hermione was not going to waste time waiting for them to return to their dorms for their books and risk being late for class. One could always count on Harry and Ron to forget their Transfiguration books when it was the first lesson of the day.

Ascending the steps, Hermione took care to skip the trick step, which would trap the feet of the unaware. She subconsciously twitched her mouth in irritation when she recalled all that had took place during breakfast. Ron always seemed to be able to get on her nerves with just the slightest bit of effort. She could not stand that boy's immature, rough and uncouth behavior sometimes, and wondered why she still put up with him. But it was not as if she could just avoid Ron without avoiding Harry, and they were the only true friends that she has, aside from Ginny, who unfortunately was Ronald's sister. So, the only way was to put up with him. Hermione let out a sigh.

Narrowly avoiding a cackling Peeves who was looking for his the next unfortunate victim for his dust balls, she turned into the corridor which led to the Transfiguration classroom. Her arms were straining under the weight of the many reference books she have borrowed for the subject and her left shoulder was hurting too as the strap of her Puma sling bag dug into it. Ron always reckoned that all the books the brunette has read could be used as weights in a gym. The corner of her mouth twitched once again in irritation and she quickened her footsteps, looking forward to free her arms of the burden.

Hermione leaned her right shoulder against the heavy wooden door gingerly and pushed it open with her weight. What greeted her sent confusion coursing through her brain. A pair of cerulean orbs glinted in the dimly lit room, and as Hermione pushed open the door wider, light spilled into the dim room and illuminated a figure with hair of the lightest silvery-blonde. Not unexpected, the bushy-hair brunette was the first student to arrive. But as she glanced around at the almost empty room, she could sense that something was amiss. Professor McGonagall was nowhere to be seen, and that surprised the teen. The strict Transfirguration Professor was always present whenever Hermione arrive, ready to answer any question and clear any doubts of hers before the lesson had even started.

But not today. What made Hermione confused was why Fleur Delacour was seated at the teacher's table. And the expression on the blonde's face was unreadable.

But Hermione struggled to keep a minimal amount of respect in her voice when she greeted the French intern, despite her strong dislike for the woman. Her voice was rather hard and cold though, and some sarcasm still managed to leak through into the words of the brunette.

"Good morning Professor."

A stiff nod; a strained smile, one that was obviously faked. With her mountain of books, Hermione strode to her usual seat, deliberately choosing the path that would not bring her close to the professor. She was secretly relieved to be free of the burden when she deposited the many books that she was cradling in her arms onto the table. The books plopped down onto the wooden table with a thud that resonated throughout the entire room, which seemed eerily empty with only the two present.

"Same to you, Ms Granger." Her tone was neutral. Fleur Delacour's eyes shone as her lips curled up into a small smile. Perhaps a smirk, the brunette thought snidely. Either she had not noticed the brunette's cold attitude towards her, or she could not be bothered to care. However, to the intern herself, only the latter was true. She was not so dense that she could not pick out the younger woman's hostility. She just chose to ignore. It was exactly the type of thing that Fleur Delacour would do. She would not condescend herself just to let the other woman have the satisfaction that she has affected the blonde in any way with her attitude.

Instead, Fleur chose indifference.

Noting the curiosity that the Granger girl was trying hard, but had apparently failed to hide, Fleur voiced out the question that Hermione had been bursting to ask at that moment for her.

"You must be wondering why Professor McGonagall is not here, oui?"

The brunette looked taken aback for a moment, but effectively wiped the shock off her face as fast as it had appeared and put on a nonchalant look. It was almost amusing to Fleur, who no doubt has effortlessly seen through the act that Hermione has been struggling to put up.

"Actually, yes. I was thinking about that."

"She is feeling a little under ze weather. Eet appears that she have caught a small cold. Nothing serious though. But I feel eet will still be better for her to take a day off and take care of her health. Zerefore, I will be taking over her lessons for today."

It came as a surprise to Hermione, the fact that Fleur actually have a heart, the ability to show concern for others. The blonde had always appeared to be so full of herself, and seemed not to hold anyone in her eyes. Everything seemed to be just about her, her, her, and she seemed to care for nothing else except her very self.

Just Fleur Delacour.

But now, it seemed, to Hermione Granger, that the blonde was not as self-centered as she looked.

**

A chorus of voices and the shuffling sounds of feet filled the room as the rest of the students filed in amidst excited chatters. Chairs scrapped against the cold stone floor as they took their respective seats, and Fleur Delacour rested herself against the front of the teacher's table casually with her hands on either side of her, waiting for the students to settle down. Hermione, already scowling in her seat, was silent.

Just as the intern opened her mouth to speak, two frantic figures burst into the room, flustered and red-faced.

"Sorry Professor McGonagall! We were looking for Ron's Transfiguration book!"

The bespectacled teen panted and clutched at his sides, his round glasses almost falling off the bridge of his nose, and his hair more unruly than usual. Hastily, he shoved his specs up and kept his back bent and head bowed, one hand grasping his knee for support. The lanky red-head beside him was heaving hard and gasping for breath in audible huffs, nodding exhaustedly with as much strength as he could muster, and bent over so much that his nose was close to touching the grimy floor.

Both their heads remained bowed, awaiting the professor's stern voice to lash out at them.

None came though, except for a response of laughter that they never would have expected. Confused at the barrage of laughter from their classmates, they looked up, jumping back upon seeing the face of the part-Veela. Ron's mouth stretched into a wide and stupid grin and his eyes glazed over, while Harry just looked surprised with his mouth gaping. The class burst out into another fit of laughter as Professor Delacour merely smiled at them.

"It's alright. Please take your seat."

She motioned for them to settle down before walking to the front of the class, with her hair flowing behind her like the finest of all silk.

Hermione scowled deepened (if that was possible) when Fleur began to speak.

"Well class, I am sure you know who I am, so I shall skip ze introduction." The brunette twitched in her seat, irritated at how the woman said it in that casual, couldn't-be-bothered tone of hers.

"Professor McGonagall is not feeling very well today, zerefore, I will be taking over her lessons for today. Please open you Transfiguration textbooks to page 236, 'Ze Principles of Elemental Transfiguration, and let us begin our lesson."

Saying that Fleur knew nothing about the art of teaching would be very unfair to the blonde. Hermione realised that she really knew more than she had given the woman credit for. This realisation however, did not put Fleur in Hermione's better books than before. In fact, it made Hermione even more irritated with the part-Veela.

Hermione found it hard to believe that someone could be so perfect. Utterly, absolutely perfect. But yes, there was such a person, and that person was right in front of her eyes.

Fleur Delacour.

Even if Hermione have to inevitably accept the fact that there is perfection, or to be more exact, that Fleur is perfection, she could not stand that woman's attitude. She hated her nonchalance, her indifference, her stoic, her imperturbability and her self-centeredness. All right, maybe minus self-centeredness. She hated her, for being so phlegmatic. Hermione wanted to see her shaken, emotions behind that pretty face, see her being affected, see a change in that expression. She hated seeing blatant apathy on the face of Fleur Delacour.

Hermione refused to accept that Fleur is just that... perfect, perfect, perfect.

**

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