—Watching You—

Chapter 1: Shiver, The Intensity

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The only way to describe the feeling of Cedric's hand on her thigh would be uncomfortable. He always made Hermione feel uncomfortable, afraid—meek, even. Merely his presence made her shrink into herself. When she had first met him, he had been so friendly; always the perfect gentleman. He was the ideal best friend. Hermione could go to him with anything, talk to him about everything. Back then, she had always felt comfortable with him. There never used to be any unease, or caution.

And then, he changed. His friendly smiles were hinting to something more sinister; his gaze, was dark and smouldering with possessiveness. Hermione had noticed, and her fault had been not taking action—of not preventing his obsession with her from deepening. It was only when she realised exactly how serious things where becoming, did she begin to become frightened of him. Of Cedric—of her best friend. The one person she had thought she would be able to trust unconditionally, irrevocably.

Having your trust broken like that was a traumatic experience. Hermione was friendly, that was undeniable, but there was a certain shield around her; a wall. She was locked inside her own metaphorical tower, protecting herself from Cedric, her metaphorical dragon—just waiting; waiting for that metaphorical prince charming to come and save her. She loved Cedric she really, really did. Just. . . not the way he would have wanted her to.

"You alright, Hermione?" he never called her 'Mione or by any other abbrievation of her name. Last year, she had asked him why; and she almost regretted it when he answered, his growing obsession, his deformed, misplaced and too intense love had been seeping through the pretty words.

"It would be wrong to call you by something different," so sincere, his genuine words. Hermione just hated the way his praise always made her feel so. . . dirty. "You are perfect just they way you are. 'Mione, Herms? That would be desecrating it, vandalising it's beauty and everything that makes you 'Hermione'."

Cedric's words, they were beautiful. But the glazed, almost maniacal glint in his eyes had been enough to convey more than any words ever possibly could. Hermione was sure that he though he hid his feelings well, but she had known almost from the beginning how enamoured with her he had been.

At first, she had been flattered. How utterly naive she had been.

Cedric was a handsome boy, smart and charming. She even had mused about maybe returning his affections, but could never find it within herself to feel more than something platonic towards him. As much as she sounded like a hopeless romantic, there just was no spark, not even a measly little tingle or jolt when she was with him. No butterflies, no nervous rambling. No blushes, no stuttering heartbeats.

Nothing.

"I'm fine," she answered him finally, looking down at the food on her plate. "Why don't you go sit with your friends?" Hermione vaguely gestured to the group of sixth year boys over at Hufflepuff table, all trying to get Cedric's attention. "I'm sure they are bursting with excitement over the tournament. I'm not too pleased with you planning on entering either, you know."

Hermione forced herself not to tense when his hand tightened on her thigh, "Really, love." he grinned at her, in what she was sure most would consider a boyishly-charming way. She saw it as menacing, a warning. "I'll be fine. They will be too, I'm sure. I can talk to them all they want once we head back to the Common Room. Until then, I just want to have a nice dinner with my favourite Gryffindor."

Gryffindor. . .If only she could have some of that so-called Gryffindor courage. "Alright. . ." Oh, how the mighty have fallen. It disgusted her to the very depths of her being—where was the Hermione Granger of the Golden-Trio? The one ready to face down You-Know-Who at any chance?

Apathetic, dark-amber eyes flashed down to her plate again, before flickering up abruptly—for some reason, drawn to something on the opposite side of the room.

"Good." Hermione barely heard his utterance.

It was as though she was drowning in a sea of blue. The depth, was enveloping her completely. A fierce, piercing gaze, drawing her in and swallowing her inside it's beautiful, swirling abyss. It was alike Cedric's smouldering and stormy one, yet this made her feel no fear. No, instead she felt thrills danced down her spine; every hair felt like it was standing on end. Fortunately, Cedric hadn't noticed the way her breathing hitched in her throat, and was instead engrossed in his meal for the time-being.

Never had she felt like this. Like the electricity from a live-wire was running scalding trails over her skin. The girl who was staring at her was more gorgeous than anyone she had ever seen before. It was an blatant beauty, yet no less intriguing or unique. She was older obviously, and a student from Beauxbaton's Academy of Magic; if her silk, powder-blue robes were anything to go by.

Almost trembling now, under the intensity of those eyes, and the powerful sensations rushing through her body; Hermione forcibly removed her gaze from the foreign girl, and instead focused on Harry and Ron; who where bickering over the last piece of chicken left on plate nearest to them. Yet, she could still feel eyes on her, setting fire to her skin as they observed; scrutinised, and studied her.

Anger, suddenly was heating her cheeks. How dare this girl make her feel these things? It was confusing and disorientating and the last thing Hermione needed at the moment. Resolve firm, she effortlessly slipped into mindless, mundane conversation with her friends. Cedric's hand on her thigh, still ominous and oppressive; yet she was able to pretend to ignore it.

Ignoring the girls eyes, however; turned out to be of no use. She could still feel them crawling ever her form, boring into her—even though she wasn't looking in the other girls direction, she could still feel it. A drawling, lilted voice broke her from her racing, muddled thoughts and distracted her from the strong emotions running rampage on her sanity.

"Are you finished with 'ze bouillabaisse?" A shiver made her shoulders tremble; just slightly. Pink, was dusting her cheeks. That was nothing compared to Ron's reaction—who turned an almost purple colour, and opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water. A burning, almost angry sensation assaulted Hermione at his unabashed staring.

She herself found her voice missing as well, as she got a closer vision of the mysterious girl. The lingering anger, however, hardened her features into a glare. Unprovoked disdain, was rushing in her veins towards the unwanted feelings she was experiencing.

"There." Cedric was the one to answer, shoving the plate towards the girl with disinterest. Harry and Ron were still staring, and Hermione continued to glare—becoming more furious as the seconds passed.

The blonde smiled disarmingly at them all; even, bright white teeth looking as though they were almost sparkling. The younger witch valiantly tried not to notice how beautiful she looked in that moment. "You 'ave finished with 'eet?"

Hermione's scowl deepened when Ron began speaking. "Yeah," he breathed, his expression dazed. "Yeah, it was brilliant. . ."

"Thank you, Monsieur's. . ." cerulean lingered on Hermione a second longer than the rest, and the aforementioned girl shivered again. ". . . Mademoiselle." carefully, she picked up the dish, and not without meeting Hermione's eyes for another heart stopping moment, walked fluidly back to Ravenclaw table.

"She's a veela!" Ron's voice was raw and hoarse, and it was only out of unjust irritation that Hermione snapped back at him. It was rather unfair of her, but she needed to vent her frustration somehow, and Ron was a good outlet.

"Of course she isn't!" the already thunderous scowl set on her features deepened, "I don't see anyone else gaping at her like an idiot." that really was quite dishonest, because she had noticed various eyes fixed on the girl as she walked away—including her own. Most, also seemed to go momentarily speechless as well.

"I'm telling you, that is not a normal girl—" Ron continued to argue his point, his hands coming to rest on the table as he leaned forward earnestly.

"If Hermione says she isn't a veela," Cedric interrupted, his voice sounding friendly—yet, all three could hear the threatening undertone. "Then I trust her judgement. After all, she is the brightest witch in her year. Right boys?"

Harry and Ron stared at him for a long, pregnant moment, and then looked at Hermione, before nodding reluctantly. Hermione's darkened mood, blackened even further; and silently, she clutched her fork until she could feel her nails digging into the flesh of her palms. Cedric, almost smugly, moved his hand from her thigh and curled it around her shoulder.

Hermione met blue eyes across the room once again.

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"Why do you let 'im snuff 'zee passion inside of you?" A familiar, lilted and accented voice reached her ears as she attempted to study quietly in the library.

Hermione's grip on her quill tightened, and as she pressed down to hard on the parchment it tore. Hands shaking, she didn't look up; but did pause in her writing. "I don't have a clue what you are talking about." she did have a clue, but she wasn't going to admit it. Not to this girl, who was eliciting all these unwanted emotions from her.

"Of course you know what I am speaking about." glancing up, Hermione finally looked at the girl which had been plaguing her thoughts since she had met her eyes last night at dinner. "I 'ave 'eard you are the brightest witch of this age. A promise of a grand future, 'zey all say. Surely, you do know what I am referring to, 'Ermione Granger."

Hermione wasn't surprised that she knew her name. Being best friends with the Boy-Who-Lived was guaranteed to give anyone a medium of fame in the wizarding world. "Maybe. But I don't see how it's your place to say anything. Plus, I'm not going to answer to someone when I haven't even been given their name."

"Fleur Delacour," as she spoke, there was a measure of pride shining through her tone. "Now, tell me. Why do you let him smother out your fire? You 'ave 'zuch a fierce flame inside of you. It would a shame for 'zomething that beautiful to go to waste, non? I would 'ate to see something like that burn out. . ."

Hermione trembled in her seat. "You don't know what your talking about, Fleur." the name felt so good, sliding from her tongue. Merlin, it was too fast. Too confusing and disorientating. She couldn't keep up with her contradicting thoughts and feelings. Standing, Hermione gathered her things and mustered up a glare. "Go tell your cryptic words to someone else. I'm not interested."

"But you are," Fleur smiled calmly and it didn't falter under Hermione's displeased expression in the least, "You are just as interested as I, oui—if not more so. I see you, 'Ermione. There is no use in hiding from it. You are trying to avoid the inevitable. An impossible task, I must 'zay."

Hermione brushed past her, none to gently; her heart beating loudly in her chest. "I'll keep avoiding it, until it goes away. And it will." she stopped for a moment, "It will go away."

"It will explode in your face, 'zat is what will 'appen." Fleur looked over her shoulder, still the epitome of calm. Hermione again found her skin burning, her hairs were standing on end at the other girls mere proximity, even when she was feet away. "Not an ideal outcome, I would theenk?"

"It wont." Hermione wasn't sure who she was trying to fool. Without waiting another moment, she stalked from the room, feeling adequately shaken from the short, almost nonsensical conversation.

Fleur smiled down at the table that Hermione had been sitting at previously, and ran a hand over the book the younger girl had left behind. "How can you avoid the unavoidable, my dear 'Ermione? Denial is but a river in Egypt, especially when you cannot even convince yourself." she murmured quietly, gazing town at the cover.

Hogwarts, a History.

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Note: A vague dialogue, I know lol. But I hope you understand what they are talking about, and if you don't, Fleur is expressing her opinion on Hermione's relationship with Cedric, and how it will all only end it disaster. Hermione, even though she had come to terms with what Cedric had become, is avoiding the entire subject. A typical reaction amongst those who have a boyfriend or girlfriend who is obsessed or overly possessive of them.

Oh, and I don't own the Harry Potter Series.

Review? xD