Thank you for all the reviews! I was amazed when I logged on and saw the number. I hope the characters aren't ooc and that you enjoy the new chapter-Lark
Hermione was still blushing fiercely as she rounded the corner to the common room. She paused and took in several deep breaths; there was an off chance Harry had put down his book for the night, which meant he would ask questions she didn't want to answer. Her worry was superfluous; Harry's eyes scanned the page of his book, his green eyes intense in their concentration. Ron was gazing vaguely into space, or rather; his eyes were gazing unfocusedly at the group of girl seated by the window.
Hermione was too tired to feel more than slight jealousy; it was becoming harder and harder to muster up. Perhaps it was for the best. The thought made her sad; things were changing, even when she didn't want them to. Yet the tighter she gripped onto the old ways the further they slipped away. Like pulling on a length of elastic that was so out of shape you knew in your heart of hearts it would never snap back.
She sunk into her seat opposite Ron and waited for him to slide his gaze to her. He took his time, apparently watching, fascinated, as Pavarti swung her school bag over her shoulders. Hermione tapped her quill against the parchment, considering how to word her introduction. She could probably write most of it before Ron thought to greet her. She had nearly made it to the body paragraphs the previous time. She wondered if Ron had always gawked at girls so much, or if she was noticing it now since Harry was no longer a distracting factor. A glance in his direction told her that he was not emerging from his thoughts for a conversation any time soon.
She made it two sentences into the first body paragraph before Ron acknowledged her presence for the first time. "Hey 'Mione, can you help with the potion's essay?" She sighed; she had expected a greeting of this kind but that hardly made it less tiresome. "I already said no, I have to finish mine," She refused as politely as possible. "Come on 'Mione," He begged, a whiny edge to his voice that was threatening to give her a headache. "No," She refused coolly and turned her attention back to her page.
"I'll fail," He moaned as she grit her teeth, "Harry, tell her she should help." Harry mumbled something unintelligible in response, which Ron took as agreement because he grinned triumphantly. Hermione took one look at the expression and gathered her things, angling for her dorm room. She wouldn't finish this with him minging in her ear all night and she had a detention tomorrow. The thought made her feel faintly sick, even after all these years. She was in detention and for once it was of her own fault, not some hair brained scheme of Harry or Ron's invention.
The essay did not lend itself to methodical explanation; the art of catching moonbeams was fraught with malpractice and lies. As such it took her a long time to be sure her fact were straight. The moon was hidden above the spires of the castle and the stars were performing their nightly dance. The breeze through creaking tree branches provided the melody that only the gods could fully appreciate. Hermione lay back, gazing out the window, loosing herself in the inky canvas of the night. Counting stars and wishing the stars would reverse and take her back to a simpler age.
Hermione still religiously received the Daily Prophet, not that it contained much truth or value any more. The articles assuring people that the Ministry had everything under control sat proudly beside scoops of murders and disappearances in full, lurid detail. In truth she only bought it for two reasons, firstly, it was an excuse not to talk to Ronald in the morning. Secondly, she found fretting about the bigger issues rather easier than fretting about the small ones. Currently her lips were downturned as she pursued an article about the death of a wizard by the name of Vincent Abercalm. Dead and disemboweled, though the writer was Rita Skeeter so the facts could hardly be trusted.
"Is that Fleur?" Ron asked rather loudly and Hermione flicked her eyes up to the teacher's table where Fleur was indeed seated. She looked casually bored; she had rejected the black robes traditional of a Professor and was instead dressed in a crisp white shirt and dark jeans. Hermione scowled, the woman was disrespecting the school in so many ways without even trying. It was an insult to Dumbledore's memory to have her sitting up there. "You right Hermione? I don't think that fork ever tried to hurt you," Ron noted with a smirk. Hermione blinked, realizing she was holding her cutlery in a death grip and blushed slightly as she released them. "I was thinking," She replied sheepishly.
"About someone you don't like apparently," Ron snorted and returned to shoveling food into his mouth with the ecstasy Hermione though was thoroughly out of place. That sort of expression should only be seen on the faces of those who had just had their life changed. A blind man's first sight, a mother's first child, a child's first field gold deserved the expression. It certainly was not to be seen daily as Ron gorged himself.
Would it kill him to have more manners? She hardly expected him to be feminine but he could aim for the level generally accepted my humans. As her thoughts turned to femininity her gaze retuned to Fleur. Fleur was handling her cutlery with precision and grace as she laughed at something Slughorn had said; though Hermione doubted it had actually been amusing. Grinding her teeth together she took a sip of coffee and returned to the paper. She read the articles without really paying attention, only pausing when she noticed a small add requesting Aurors. Hermione frowned; she would have expected them to have an overflow of applications as people dedicated themselves to protecting their homes. Apparently the masses were far more cowardly than she gave them credit for. Something about that irked her immensely.
Someone tapped on her shoulder and she turned, fully intending on lecturing them on proper etiquette. She was half way through the first word when she realized who it was. "Good morning, Professor," Hermione mumbled, gazing over the woman's left shoulder. "Bonjour 'ermione," She smiled; Hermione could just see her lips out of the corner of her vision. "What happened to Miss Granger?" Hermione shot back and instantly regretted it. When no response was forthcoming she raised her gaze to meet Fleur's eyes. Ice cold and she knows it. "Shall we make it two detentions, 'ermione," Fleur drawled, accenting Hermione's name so it sounded more like a challenge than a taunt. "No, Professor," Hermione conceded.
"Fleur, it's great you're here!" Ron beamed; he seemed to have managed to swallow his food before speaking. Fleur turned her irises of ice on him and he froze in place; perhaps he was remembering the dismal time he had asked her out to the Yule Ball. The cruel smirk on Fleur's lips told Hermione that Fleur at least was recalling the day. Ron's eyes returned to his plate and he mumbled something along the lines of, "Could at least say hello."
"Your detention shall be at five o'clock, my office. You will require a quill," Fleur smiled, gazing down her nose at Hermione. Never had Hermione wished she were taller more than at that moment. Hermione had been subjected to many forms of torment during her life but rarely, if ever was she patronized. She certainly didn't like it. "Of course Professor," She replied, her voice sweet and innocent as she seethed on the inside. "Where is your office?"
"Bore others with your incessant questions," Fleur sneered and Hermione scowled.
"I'll find it on my own then," Hermione shrugged, her face carefully composed.
"Good, don't be late, or, pourvre con, there shall be consequences," Her eyes glinted, like white light off pure ice. "Consequences?" Hermione paled considerably. "Come on Fleur, give Hermione some slack," Ron grinned, clearly having decided to take another crack at the veela. Poor fool, just as Fleur had called her. "Le cerveau il etait en option chez toi, non?" Fleur chuckled and left him there, mouth handing open slightly as he tried to guess what she had said.
Hermione allowed herself a tiny smirk as she translated the insult before the thought of more detentions came crashing down. She dove into her bag to find her timetable; a literal dive, her head vanished inside the cavernous carrier as she moved aside books. She scanned her timetable; fretting about the lack of opportunities she would have to find the office. She was bordering on panic, the kind of panic only a true teachers pet could experience, when she realized that her third class of the day was dueling. There was the teacher's name in incriminating black font: Fleur Delacour. Hermione glared into space miserably; she wondered if Harry felt this bad when he got detention? She shot a glance at him; hair unruly and lips slightly downturned, which seemed to be their only position these days. Somehow she doubted he fretted nearly as much as she was currently, then again, she doubted any one did.
For once, Hermione was not the first to class; in fact, she was the third last. She had 'forgotten' a book at the library and gone back to get it. In truth she didn't want to be left alone with Fleur. She told herself it was because any conversation she held with the new Professor would most likely only lead to detention but really she was scared. Something about the blonde scared her as much as the manic witch Bellatrix Lestrange, not in the same way admittedly, but in equal measure. There were different kinds of dear, Hermione decided, and they could be ordered in potency. Many kinds of fear were irritating but held their uses; like the fear of a man wielding an axe that told you to run, or the fear of certain creatures that taught you to avoid them. This fear however, was useless, as far as she could tell any way. Fleur was not poisonous, dangerous or deadly, at least as far as Hermione knew, nor was she a lethal creature. She was wrong on three of the four, but she didn't know that, but people learn. That's what fear is for.
Hermione slid into a seat at the back of the class, noticing without any real curiosity that the front two rows were made up entirely of guys. Fleur was seated at the desk, posture relaxed and eyes gazing up at the ceiling. When she lowered she pointedly met the gaze of all the students, one after the after. Cobalt met butterscotch and Fleur's lips quirked into an unreadable smirk. She rose gracefully to her feet, her height increased by towering stilettos. "I am teaching here this year upon request of Professor McGonagall. She believes it is of the upmost importance that you can defend yourself when the time comes. I say when not if, because it is most definitely going to be a case of when," She fixed them in place with an intense stare. Hermione found herself fascinated and constantly had to fight to keep an expression of interest off her face. "The only real question is which side you will exercise your skills on. Be it the Death Eaters or your fellow students and their families. I suggest you choose carefully when the time comes. The problem is that people often only choose wisely, once all other easy options have been exhausted."
The class was watching her raptly but Hermione wondered how many focused on the words and not the slender figure and graceful cherry lips. She pulled herself back to reality, mentally slapping herself for getting sidetracked with such odd observations. "I believe it is best if you divide into pairs and duel so I can garner an idea at what standard you all fight," She instructed. Chairs scraped back as people hurriedly gathered partners, eager to show off. Harry and Ron paired off and she was left alone. In most subjects people practically begged to be her partner because it all but guaranteed them an O. When it came to facing the best student in the year at a duel the number of volunteers was, unsurprisingly, lacking. The numbers finale drained away until she and Neville were left alone. They nodded to each other and joined the formation the others had formed, standing ten feet apart and raising their wands.
"We shall proceed one pair at a time, I will offer sparing help, today is for observation, from then on it is for teaching," She nodded to the first pair who eagerly threw spells at each other. As ready to attack a friend as a hungry dog is to devour a bone. The match didn't last long; it ended with Dean falling back, stunned as Seamus grinned like a self-satisfied cat. "The power and speed are there, but in a duel one can not fight second by second. You must plan, dueling is more about strategy than even chess," Fleur intoned, face blank as she moved on to watch the next pair.
The whole class fell silent as Harry and Ron faced off, Harry calm and composed as Ron worried the grip of his wand. "Incarc-" Ron cried but Harry's silent spell was released faster and Ron leapt from its path with a squeak. Harry's second spell came half a second later and Ron was frozen in place. Hermione watched Harry levelly; clearly he had been studying more then Horcruxes. "Harry is at the level I had hoped all of you would be at," She announced as a lot of people smiled sheepishly; they were no-where close and knew it. Hermione steeled her mind; it was her turn to duel next. Neville was sweating profusely and he seemed to be suffering a slight nervous tick of the lips. Fleur smirked and nodded, a clear command to begin as her azure eyes sparkled with amusement.
"Expelli-" Neville began but Hermione was faster, her Rictusempra dead on course…until it just bounced off in a random direction. Students scattered as cast the duelers nervous glances. Neville was preparing so curse her again so she fired off three spells in sequence: Salvio Hexia, to block Neville's curse, confundus and impedimenta. The second and third were offensive spells and shot forwards only to bounce off once more. "Finite Incantatum!" she cried and the air shimmered ever so slightly, but the spell was still in place. Whoever had cast this particular protection was powerful and most certainly not Neville. She shot Fleur the most murderous glance she could muster in current situation and the witch returned it with a Cheshire cat grin. Hermione swept her wand through the air and a blast of wind knocked the entire class backwards and effectively shattered the shield. A well-placed Deprimo spell sent Neville sprawling as his wand spun away.
Hermione was panting slightly as she stepped back and lowered her wand, there was no doubt as to who the victor was. "Miss Granger is the victor, but she made several mistakes," Fleur smirked and sauntered over to Hermione, standing too close for Hermione's comfort. "I cast a protective charm to prevent Miss Granger touching Neville. The match was very uneven. It is not, however, uncommon for a second wizard to protect the first in a duel and one should always be wary of this. Miss Granger should have noticed the spell earlier and removed it quickly rather than continuing to attack," She smirked. Hermione grit her teeth and didn't respond, she had no doubt Fleur was baiting her. "I want a list of reasons on how to improve your dueling and suggestion for lessons, to be on my desk by the end of the lesson."
"Sorry Neville," Hermione murmured as he passed her.
"It's alright, no damage," He smiled; she supposed it wasn't. People were used to her beating them, it was on the days that she lost that things could turn ugly. "Miss Granger," Fleur called. Hermione bit her tongue to stop the moan of annoyance passing through her lips.
"Yes Professor?" She asked dutifully, walking back over to Fleur but keeping a five-foot distance between them. "Some of you wand work is sloppy, come here," She beckoned.
Hermione approached reluctantly and nearly jumped when the older witch placed her palms of Hermione's shoulders. "Raise your right arm to ninety degree's," She instructed and Hermione obeyed. She was acutely aware of the stares and glares of her classmates and she blushed. "Now flick you wrist," Fleur commanded and once more she obeyed. "No sharper than that," Fleur sighed in frustration and stepped closer. Hermione turned crimson and Fleur slid one hand along her arm and out to her wrist. Fleur was behind her, radiating heat and causing Hermione to blush intensely at the proximity, Fleur was pressed flush against her back and her breath puffed in Hermione's ear. "Flick," Fleur murmured and controlled Hermione's wrist with her hand and guided her through a sharp flick and swish motion. "Good, go finish the task 'ermione," Fleur smirked as Hermione squeaked a thanks and fled back to her seat.
Her face was crimson and she refused to meet anyone's eyes as she sat down. Ron gazed at her jealously, "What do I have to do to get some special help?" He murmured, voice dazed and eyes dreamy. "I don't like people being that close," Hermione muttered and turned to her work. Fleur knew she didn't like it and that was the exact reason she was going to demolish the girl's idea of personal space. She found a significant amount of pleasure in doing it to. Her lips lifted into a Cheshire cat grin; crimson to match Hermione's cheeks.
Hermione fled from the classroom at the end of the period and realized far too late that she hadn't found out where Fleur's office was. That left her with two options; risk being late for the detention considering she had no idea where the office was, or seek out the woman during the lunch hour. How many times would the goddamned woman's company be thrust upon her in one day? She was deeply disappointed that she had to choose between two evils again. There was a grinning devil at the end of both paths and Hermione could only imagine Fleur's reaction were she late. In fact, she couldn't imagine Fleur's reaction and in the end, that's what scared her the most.
Le cerveau il etait en option chez toi- the brain was optional for you?
I will go into and explain Harry and Ginny's relationship as well as Fleur and Bills in the next few chapters. Maybe a bit about Ron and Hermione as well. Consider the extra long and early chapter a reward for all the lovely feedback I've received. Thanks for reading and please review-lark