Note: This is hard to write because it's just not coming out quite right, which has called for so many re-writes... I've lost count. I've got points A and B down while D and E are itching to go, but C is not being cooperative. Don't you hate that?
More importantly: It's almost September 19th, which means it's almost Hermione's birthday!
For weeks, I have been hooked on the song about Hermione Granger the Pirate Queen, so obviously I feel I need to write a pirate themed Hermione/Fleur for the occasion. I'd like an opinion on whether I should go through with it, and if you think I should, please feel free to leave what you'd like it to be... e.g. oneshot/multi-chaptered, serious/not serious, what you'd like included. I have a few ideas in mind, but I won't be writing this solely for myself, you know. It's like a gift to our fandom... (Which is making me sound more confident in my abilities than I am, so I'm just going to say read on...) Cheers.
While it was never in her comfort zone to work a plan as she formulated said plan, to act on a whim, and run in head first; Hermione could manage it. She wasn't considered the top of her year for nothing. She was an quick and excellent thinker, a saving grace in the situations she and the boys seem to get themselves into every year. If she could save all their lives with minimal preparation, who knows what she could accomplish with a properly thought-out plan.
The thing about it, though, is that in life or death situations - which always seems to be the case with Harry Potter - the decision was simple. It wasn't even a decision, really.
If you can help it, you pick life.
In situations like these... The entire thing is a gray area. She could, or she could not. If she does, how so? The possibilities were endless, and she wouldn't be Hermione Granger if she wasn't accounting for them all.
There was herself. There was the Beauxbaton she would later learn to be named Fleur Delacour, who she had to meet. Her objective was clear. Now, how would she make her move?
Hermione had never made a move on anyone. How does one make a move, anyway? It couldn't be too hard. It would have to be rather simple, actually. It's simple. Start simple. With a hello. All right. That's sorted. Just say hello.
How does one just say hello?
Hermione frowned at that.
She and Fleur were strangers, but clearly each knows the other exists. Would Fleur just cut to the chase and do something about it? Probably not, no. She might've done so by now. Hermione had probably been "sending the wrong message" or something like that, but still... If you wanted something badly enough, you had to go after it.
Hermione's frown intensified when she realized she'd basically objectified herself. That wouldn't do.
If you want someone enough, you have to try...
It still rang a little like objectification, but she let it go with a sigh.
Hermione motioned through a lot of the night's meal with nods and the occasional polite comment until Ginny started on about Quidditch, and Harry and Ron spared her from even paying attention at all. Luna never needed permission to drift off, and had done it long before Hermione. Both finished their meals silently, and stayed with the company as they went on about stats and strategy with much more vigor and accuracy than anything they would have submitted as schoolwork.
She eventually had her eyes flitting over the Ravenclaw table. Not watching like Fleur, but certainly having a look.
To attempt now didn't seem right, but she felt she'd berate herself later if she put it off too long. She may want time to deliberate, but she knew too much time would ruin the entire thing. There was - she hated to admit because it did almost physically hurt to admit - such a thing as too much thinking.
Just say hello, she told herself while forcing her eyes to feign interest in closer subjects. Come across her, and say hello.
The fortunate opportunity for the how came when she stepped out of the Great Hall completely coincidentally in the wake of the Beauxbaton procession. They always seemed to work as a pack like an intimidating, mobile defense against approach, but something in the group dynamic failed and Hermione was left a clear shot where Fleur was left at the door. Left with the ornate slab of wood suddenly in her face.
She looked so lost; Hermione had to laugh.
Hermione immediately regretted laughing.
Fleur turned around, and then they were there, herself and this Beauxbaton she was set on meeting.
It's a thrill, standing on the brink of a what could be... On the brink of what could be.
Everything in Hermione's physical appearance suddenly underwent Hermione's own lightning quick scrutiny. She didn't trust herself to look well, what with the fidgeting she apparantly developed. By Merlin, she was nervous.
It was understandable. Proximity made things all too real. Minute details made themselves available. At this decreased distance, Hermione could very well see how the Beauxbaton's eyes dilated. An arms length fastly felt intimate.
By Merlin, she was nervous, and it showed, but she could do nothing about that, and there was something admirable about it... Being able to be honest.
She was kidding herself thinking she had to devise some sort of scheme. If she had to try, she was trying too hard and thinking too much. What she really wanted to know was if they'd get along, and that couldn't be done if she were faking her disposition. The best way to go about anything was organically.
Just say hello, she reminded herself. When she spoke it, it was nervous, it showed, and that was perfectly all right.
She found herself displaying one of those despite-yourself smiles, and it felt lovely. Playing confident became true confidence, and she couldn't help but think that's how it's supposed to be.
Then, she had to think about it.
The cogs of her mind seemed to be a curse upon itself.
Finally, truly despite herself, she let her insecurities invade her. Her smile? Her teeth. They were always a sore spot. Being picked on for them, she never learned to accept it in herself. Her busy hair and abnormally large front teeth made her dorkiness apparent in younger years even before other children got to know her, and the idea seemed to stick with her all this time. Incoming self-consciousness.
You have such a beautiful smile were the exact words Fleur had used, and they were exactly the right thing to trigger her anxiety, regardless that it was meant as a compliment. Hermione just couldn't take it as one.
"You're heading back to your carriage, right?" Hermione asked suddenly looking for an escape from this decreased distance thing, "I don't mean to keep you up... Er... Good night."
Shuffling backwards to put a little comfortable space between the two of them, Hermione's sight dropped to the floor dejectedly.
It was silent between the two, and Hermione relied on Fleur to break it.
"I was on my way out... when my friend..."
By her tone, Hermione could tell she was using the term begrudgingly.
"She decided to lock me in. Rudely."
Hermione looked up to see for herself, if only momentarily distracted by Fleur's eyes, and was confused to see the door behind Fleur wide open. She pointed it out, to the Beauxbaton's disbelief.
A double-take at the door for Fleur, and she must've realized what happened. Hermione wondered.
"Oh..." was all Fleur could say on the matter, "I suppose, this is bonne nuit, good night."
Hermione took far too much pleasure at the disappointment in Fleur's voice.
"I'll see you around, yeah?" Hermione smiled, feeling remnants of her earlier courage sneak up on herself through confidence in being able to garner the attention of Fleur Delacour. She still did not know why, but she understood that she could.
"Oui. I shall see you," Fleur bid farewell.
That was that, Hermione thought, and Hermione thought wrong.
Fleur stepped closer, promptly drawing the younger's suspicion. A gentle hand took Hermione's once more, directed it to an even gentler pair of lips, and in an instant they were gone with Fleur walking away like it was no big deal.
Surely, this was a big deal because Hermione's mind had no idea what to do with this. This confused her greatly.
Maybe she likes you, a more dreamy-eyed but certainly not dreamier blonde had told her. It was not too big a jump to that conclusion anymore. Hermione felt like jumping.
Gathering her wits about her to spot another Beauxbaton Fleur met beyond the door, Hermione wondered again. Did she have an ally in this endeavor? It now felt far too coincidental to catch Fleur excluded from her group. She'd have to look into this later.
It was nearly bed time, and Hermione began to ponder whether she could dream of a dreamy blonde tonight, and whether or not that was creepy. She wasn't the one outright staring at a person she'd never met before - she argued beecause maybe she couldn't simply let that go - so obviously she wasn't the creepier one in whatever this was or would be.
She found her usual group half-heartedly ascending the stairs that lead t the rest of the castle from the Entrance Hall with more than a few backward glances. Ronald was in fact all backwards, only following along as Ginny was dragging him by the arm.
" 'Mione, what have you done?" was Ron's flabbergasted greeting.
"What are you talking about, Ronald?" Hermione questioned.
The group came to a halt near the base of the grand setup of the moving stairwell to accommodate the exchange. Ginny stopped tugging on Ron's sleeve once she realized he'd glued himself to the spot petulantly, and Harry was forced to wait for them as well.
"You were with one of them - the French girls - how?" the adolescent break in his pitch further emphasised the sheer immaturity in such a statement.
"I spoke to Fleur, yes," Hermione's attention was brought to the power of a name, "I spoke to her. You know, like an actual person. She is just another human-being, after all."
The just part was a little arguable in Hermione's mind, but that was romanticized bias and beside the point. Hermione would not have Ron's ignorance. You treat women like people because women are people. Anything less is objectification, and unjust.
"I bet you, though, she's a veela. At least, some part," Ron continued almost conversationally, but there was a light of wonderment in his eyes that hinted that he still hadn't gotten Hermione's point.
"Veela or no, she's a person, Ronald."
"...Well, yeah," Ron coughed awkwardly. She could still see that he wasn't getting it, but this could go on for ages if she let it and they all needed to report to their dormitory soon. The halls were almost empty, and the stairs were getting restless in their shifting.
"Let's just go," Hermione suggested taking the lead up the first flight.
Harry remained unsurprisingly silent through it all, and didn't bring anything up about it as they continued. He was usully respectful of other people's business; espescially, when he knew he had no real part in it. Ron was making himself a part of it by asking about Fleur. Ginny...
Ginny was surprisingly silent.
Hermione had forgotten all about how this may make Ginny feel. Ginny was at least to some extent involved, being the one that brought it to Hermione's attention that she had someone looking at her some time ago. Ginny had made it known how she felt uncomfortable at the amount of focus being thrust upon Hermione by a stranger.
At first it was occasional, and Ginny was just curious while Hermione thought nothing of it. It became more frequent, and Ginny kept getting edgy about it regardless that Hermione still thought nothing of it. Finally when it came regularly, Ginny resolved to be altogether agitated for Hermione while she still refused to think anything of it.
The lack of vocalization of her thoughts made Hermione glance furtively over Ginny.
A taut expression was all her face could reveal. Hermione would have to look into that later as well.
They reached the tower, separated at the common room even though Ron was still pressing uselessly for information on "the veela", and went straight for bed in the case of the girls.
Ginny didn't even respond to Hermione's purposeful good night when she broke off from Hermione at the door to the room for third years.
The following morning, Hermione went with Harry and Ron to breakfast as usual, took a seat by Ginny, who was already discussing some assignment for Astronomy with Luna Lovegood, and it seemed to be all normal enough.
"Did you sleep well, Hermione?" Luna inquired around Ginny's shoulder.
Ginny herself turned around to get Hermione's reply. When it was a positive one, Ginny turned back toward her breakfast.
"Oh good... I was just telling Ginny I was afraid you may not... I'm convinced those wrackspurts may have a detrimental affect on your daily routine. Can't be sure you actually have them until I acquire a pair of spectrespecs, of course, but I'm certain I see the characteristics of their presence forming... I told Ginny to warn you..."
Hearing this, Hermione momentarily forgot she didn't quite believe in Luna's fantastic creatures to gauge Ginny's input in this information. To see if Ginny would offer any input, really.
"Yeah..." Ginny mumbled over a bite of jellied toast, "Sorry... I meant wrackspurts, not nargles..."
There was a playful smile along her face, but Hermione could pick up a few traces of unspoken tenseness in it. It remain unspoken, and eventually dissolved as the conversation around them progressed. If either of the boys caught on, though Hermione could bet anything they wouldn't, they did not comment on it.
Luna drifted in and out of the conversation while also - Hermione could tell - examining Hermione for more evidence of her wrackspurts.
She didn't realize she was doing it until she already did, but she searched for Fleur's eyes among Luna's house table.
It took a moment for Fleur to realize, but she did catch Hermione's gaze.
How odd, it seemed, for Hermione to be the one initiate eye-contact. It was still so new.
Fleur had a sweet expression with one of those smiles that were the precursor to a soft but genuine laugh. Her eyes dipped bashfully, but remained decidedly locked with Hermione's.
An unhelpable tremor of delightful excitement made Hermione feel all bubbly, all too confident, all gratified with herself.
" - Definitely wrackspurts," Luna commented dreamily.
Note: I expressed earlier that this part was puzzlingly difficult to write, but now that it's written, that's that for what I have labelled the Introductory Arc. Groundwork's set and stuff. Tried so hard to avoid it, but I used the V-word. It took the third story, chapter three for me to finally allude anything about Fleur's veela-ness, and I'm honestly a little proud it took that long. This is me warning you that it's not going to be that big a thing in the scheme of stuff; I don't intend to go far into Veela culture because there are so many other stories that do a wonderful job at creating those sort of plots, but it's necessary to mention it along the way. I'd also like to know whether this doubling-back into previous scenes is off-putting. What I have worked up for future chapters tries to fuse into a more fluid point of view to avoid redundancy. Thanks in advance for your consideration, and I will reply to every review for this chapter even if it's just to thank you once more.
