Review replies:
frog, Jen, Aeleorn, muggles - Thank you for your reviews!
chill- Haha, you'll know when the next few chapters are up xD
chibi- Bill? I think this chapter will make everything clearer =)

A.N: I apologise for not updating for so long! July has been a busy month for me =/ Also, promotional exams are coming in less then two months time. I really need to study :( But I'll (of course) continue to write when I can=) Hope you guys will enjoy this chapter!

p.s- Review please! I love reviews! xD

Chapter 3: Damnations

Fleur retreated upstairs coolly with swiftness, glad to be away from the presence of Bill Weasley. The air was almost stifling with the thick amount of lust emanating from that gruff, scrubby, unkempt man. Fleur could not be any gladder to leave the room and escape from Bill's presence.

However, it was not until she was halfway up did she realized that she could not return to her room. Facing the gloomy wooden door, Fleur just stood at the landing, with an annoyed scowl invading her pristine features.

Hermione was still in there.

After a minute of silent contemplation, Fleur bit back a sigh, and moved passed the girls' room, having decided not to enter and give the younger woman space. But no, don't get her wrong. Fleur was not trying to be considerate to Hermione; why should she?

The Frenchwoman just wanted to be alone.

Even if she had chosen to enter, she would not have known what to say to the brunette either; and thus, she chose to avoid awkward situations. Fleur rather not waste her energy and time on a hostile girl. Why put yourself in a situation where you would not be appreciated? Although Hermione was anything but hostile the last she saw her; which was not more than two hours ago.

Taking another flight of stairs up to the next level, Fleur retreated into the unused drawing room. A dry, musty smell enveloped her in an undesired welcome when she push the heavy, polished mahogany door open; it looked like Molly Weasley's cleaning troops have not tackled that room yet.

Nevertheless, Fleur still slipped in; despite her disgust at the smell and cleanliness (or lack of) of the room; it was the only place left where she could go without being bothered. Seeing that the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix was specially enchanted so that it could not be seen by outsiders or Muggles, they were forbidden to step even a single foot out of the front door unless they were on their way to take over shifts or returning from them.

Security was a serious issue; something that could not be compromised in the dangerous times.

Which means that Fleur, and the other underage teenagers (Fleur scoffed), were cooped in the house unless under special circumstances.

And Fleur found the system quite ludicrous. She could not understand why she had to stay in despite the fact that she was of age. Fleur did not take bring treated like a child too kindly. But then again, there wasn't anything she could do about it; she could not defy Dumbledore's orders.

It was pretty understood though; times were not the same. Lord Voldemort has returned and risen, and Death Eaters' activities were steadily on the rise too. Though the (dense) Ministry of Magic and its minister refused to believe in Harry Potter's, and even Dumbledore's words, there were still some who held strong faith in the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Dumbledore agreed that Voldemort was back?

Then Voldemort must be really back.

And of course, Fleur believed in their words. This was why she was there, a part of the Order. She remembered the events of the Triwizard Tournament vividly, especially the third and last task. A part of Fleur felt ashamed for not completing that task, but it was not her fault that she was attacked. Still, it was quite a blow to her pride and reputation; after all, she was indeed the best student that Beauxbatons had ever seen. She was Madame Maxime's prized pupil.

And?

Being knocked unconscious in the middle of that task was not something that she could accept easily.

After being rescued (quite unglamorously) from the maze, she had sat and waited anxiously for the winner to emerge. She was rather upset about her elimination, but once again, she hid her feelings behind her mask of cool aloofness. Gabrielle knew; of course she knew, but she did not say anything. And Fleur was thankful for that. Her parents offered a few words of consolation and several assuring pats, but Fleur brushed it all off with brief, stiff nods of her head. She did not want to be reminded of the fact; and the proud woman pushed the thoughts of her failure to the very back of her mind, choosing to focus on the remaining champions in the maze to distract herself.

Viktor Krum emerged from the maze about ten minutes after her, looking disoriented and confused. He ignored the questioning eye that Fleur gave him, and refused to let the matron take a look at him for injuries. He sank into the bench a few feet away from the Delacours, and slouched forward, holding his head in his hands. Fleur glanced at his defeated figure, then back to the ominous-looking maze extending out before her. The towering hedges seemed to reach up to the skies, worshipping it with dark reverence.

Four champions.

Two down.

The cold wind of the night licked at exposed skins, and there were occasional ripples of shiver in the silent crowd. Thousands of eyes were fixed on the expanse of vegetation; and every now and then, a look of uncertainty was exchanged.

Time seemed to be teasing the crowd too, crawling along at the speed of a snail. All was eerily calm, save for the occasional rustle of robes of the patrolling teachers at the borders of the huge maze. Like so many others, Fleur was anxious to know the outcome of the third task.

But the outcome was nothing she, nor any others, had expected.

The crowd roused in a frenzied applause when two bodies suddenly appeared a few feet above the ground and slammed into it. A golden, muddied cup was lying ominously a distance away from the two grimy forms flumped on the grass. The tournament was over. But amidst the chorus of excited yells and whoops, Fleur knew that something was not right. A mask was discarded, forgotten. A piercing scream ripped through the skies, a scream that Fleur had later realized, came from her very self.

Cedric was dead.

The horrific scene was painfully etched into her head. She had thought that the Tournament was going to be free of deaths, seeing that the Ministry had set such strict rules and regulations before allowing it to be continued. It scared her to see Harry Potter, disheveled and defeated, and the pale, lifeless body of Cedric Diggory.

Because the entire, horrific picture could only mean one thing.

Lord Voldemort was back.

Fleur moved away from the doorway, unaware that she had been standing in it for a good few minutes while she recalled the horrible chain of events. Each of the champions was affected by the death of Cedric Diggory, no doubt about it. And Fleur knew that what she was feeling was insignificant in comparison to what Potter would have felt and went through.

Potter…Fleur wondered how the boy was doing. They had not conversed ever since the end of the third task, and merely exchanged a few words of farewell when the three schools parted ways. She felt a slight hint of pity for him, for having to cope with so much at such a young age.

Moving warily through the room, Fleur took care not to touch anything, knowing full well that the things in the House of Black were all far from being innocent. She spent her time scrutinizing the faded tapestry, examining the several burnt spots in it. It seemed to be of the Black ancestry; the burnt holes were probably those who were dishonored and disowned. Yes, it seemed to be so; Regulus Black's name was up there, and Sirius Black, Sirius was a hole next to his brother.

Fleur moved on to view the objects in the old display case through its grime-coated glass, not without difficulty. The blonde did not go near the buzzing curtains though, but eyed it with suspicion and disgust. Until Molly Weasley peeped in through the door that she had conveniently left open, to tell her that dinner was ready.

Fleur entered the dining room, and a frown came onto her face when she took in the seating arrangement. Aside from Arthur and Molly Weasley's usual seat, there remained only one other empty seat between Hermione and Bill. Ronald was sulking away on the other side of Bill, while Hermione ignored him totally, seeming to be more engrossed in the silver cutlery marked with a faded crest. Bill looked up when Fleur entered the room, and a wide smile appeared on his face when he sensed the part-Veela's presence. Or thrall, to be more exact.

Hermione knew that Fleur had just floated into the room with perfect grace, and wasted no effort in ignoring the gorgeous blonde as she took her seat beside her. She thought that she heard Ginny muttered "Phlegm" under her breath beside her, but Hermione chose to ignore the younger girl's rude comment. Out of the corner of her eyes, Hermione noticed that Fleur looked anything but happy, her back poker-straight, so much so that it looked pretty uncomfortable. Was it because she had to sit next to me? Hermione was confused at the blonde's behavior. Just earlier on, she had thrown off her high-and-mighty front and apologized to her, and now, she was behaving so coldly that Hermione felt an involuntary shiver down her spine.

A beaming Molly Weasley re-entered the dining room, levitating floating dishes of delicious-smelling delicacies in front of her, still oblivious to the tension between the different parties in the room. Fred and George were busy having a fake sword fight with the trick wands they invented underneath the table, while Bill was still staring at Fleur with a faint smile on his face. Ron barely looked up as the smell of his mother's cooking wafted passed, which was unusual.

It was then Molly Weasley noticed the difference in the seating arrangement; usually, her son Ronald would automatically plop himself next to Hermione, and Bill would usually choose a seat next to his father. She set the dishes down onto the table, and sat herself down, scanning the table thoughtfully just as Arthur Weasley entered with the remaining dishes.

"Fred, George, stop fooling around with those ridiculous toys! How many times must I tell you to stop doing all the stupid things in the dining room?!

"Sorry Mum!" The twins chorused, though they looked far from being apologetic. They exchanged identical grins and shoved the wands into their pockets.

The short, plump matron made sure that the rubber wands were safely stowed out of her sight before giving her husband a nod of thanks. Arthur Weasley beamed and settled down.

"Where's Sirius?" One of the twins chirped.

"He's upstairs with Buckbeak. He asked us to go ahead without him; said he doesn't feel like eating." Molly replied with slight annoyance. She never liked the bird/horse, and always made sure that Sirius keeps his pet in one of the abandoned rooms at the topmost level. Of course, she never went up there if she could help it.

"All right children! Let's eat!"

Dinner was quite a quiet affair, though not with several secretive glances here and there. Also, there was the occasional chatter from Bill, who was trying to start an intelligent conversation at the table in his vain attempt to impress the stone-cold lady next to him. Fleur ignored him and tuned him out, choosing to focus on chewing her food slowly and swallowing. Hermione, too, remained in silent mode throughout the entire dinner, though allowing her eyes to dart over to Fleur's face once every few minutes.

"Pork chop, Fleur?"

"Non, monsieur, thank you."

"How' bt some gravy?"

"I am fine, it is all right."

Fleur's face was frozen into a stiff, stone sculpture when Hermione once again, allowed her eyes to drift over the perfect features. But then, Fleur turned her head away from Bill at the very moment and caught the brunette's eye.

Caught by surprise, the brunette immediately shifted her focus back to the pot of gravy in front of her. She had not expected Fleur to turn around, and mentally chided herself for glancing at the part-Veela in the first place.

Damn Veela and her damn thrall.

Fleur tilted her head ever-so slightly when she noticed Hermione looking at her, surprisingly without her signature glare that was reserved for her. She was rather amused when the brunette withdrew her gaze hastily, her face pink. Ever so curious, Ms Nosy Granger.

The exchanges between Bill and Fleur were not unnoticed by the sharp matron of the Weasley household. The rest of the table, save for Hermione, remained oblivious to the tensions between the two. Fred and George were busy discussing beneath their breaths between bites about something regarding a joke shop, if Fleur did not hear wrongly. Ron was stuffing himself much more than usual, shoveling food into his wide cavern of a mouth as if there was no tomorrow. Fleur eyed the specks of food that had escaped onto the tablecloth around the redhead with undisguised disgust.

Molly Weasley hazarded a guess that there was something fishy going on. Bill was not usually that helpful or talkative during dinnertime; he would usually be concentrating hard on eating, especially after returning from a whole day of shifts.

And on Ron's side…the seating arrangements told her enough. It was obvious to her that something happened between her son and Hermione.

"I am done, may I be excused?"

Molly was slightly taken aback when the polite French-accented voice of Fleur Delacour interrupted her thoughts. She caught sight of Bill's face, which was sagging in blatant disappointment that he did not even bother to hide. Fleur, however, has an unreadable expression on her face.

"Of course you may, dear."

"Thank you. Then I shall excuse myself first."

Fleur rose from her seat smoothly, and Bill's eyes were fixated on her behind as she did so. Hermione stared up at Fleur with a frown, not even bothering to be discreet. The blonde was so stuck-up and rude to leave the table before the rest completed their first course. And she had barely taken more than ten bites!

If the Veela had saw the look the brunette was giving her, she gave no sign and ignored the look. Gathering up her dishes, she proceeded into the kitchen stiffly, aware of a pair of predatory eyes on her.

After the tap water ceased running, the blonde reappeared in the doorway leading off to the kitchen.

She gave Arthur and Molly a stiff nod and a slight smile, then headed out into the living room. She never spared a single glance for any of the others though. Hermione stared down at her plate, while Bill was busy trying to catch her eye. Fred and George were still stuck in their own little world, while Ronald was still stuffing himself endlessly. The next moment, swift, quick steps could be heard ascending the stairs, before ending with a sharp click of a door somewhere.

The rest proceed to finishing their dinner in an even quieter affair, with Bill looking rather upset and forlorn now that Fleur was gone from the table. Hermione kept her eyes to her own plate for the rest of the dinner, silently hoping that the awkward meal would end fast.

After Fred, George and Ginny were dragged into the kitchen to help with the cleaning up, Hermione scooted away from all the awkwardness and headed back up to her room. It was the first time that she had sat through such a tensed meal, and she was not at all unwilling to escape from it.

However, she still felt rather indignant that the Delacour woman did not respect the Weasley parents well enough to stay on to the end. Ginny had appeared a little too happy when the blonde left the table, but the red-head had been courteous enough to hold back her comments when she saw that Hermione was not in the mood to chat.

She pushed open her bedroom door, and was surprised to find a blonde-haired figure seated on a bed with her back to the door, apparently gazing out of the window into the grim night.

"Why did you leave so early?"

There was no movement from the figure, and Hermione was about to open her mouth to prod further when a quiet voice answered her.

"I was not feeling very well."

It was the truth; the blonde was not the least bit comfortable during dinner, not with a certain man next to her who was hawking her like a predator would a prey. She could not stand how Bill kept trying to get close to her, yet decided not to snap at him because of the presence of Arthur and Molly. After all, he was their son, and they are her seniors.

"What illness is so bad that you cannot wait for the rest to finish? It would barely take up ten minutes."

Hermione knew that Fleur was fine, perfectly fine. She was not ill, that the brunette knew. The reason why Fleur left was because of Bill.

"He was bothering you, wasn't he?"

Hermione thought that the slender figure stiffened slightly after the words escaped from her mouth. She had hit the nail on the head.

"Why would he?"

Fleur's response was cold, nothing like what the brunette had expected. It burst her momentarily bubble that had formed when she thought she had finally rendered the blonde speechless. It seemed like the articulated Hermione Granger could never outtalk Fleur Delacour. She took two steps forward, closer to the woman.

"I saw."

A whip of silvery-blonde hair, and Fleur was up, facing the young brunette. Her eyes were black in the dim room, the only source of light being that from the corridor, let in by the opened door.

"I do not know what you are seeing, and you most certainly don't either." Damn.

Hermione did not know what to say. The two held eye contact, neither willing to back down. Fleur, as a prideful person, of course would not; Hermione, being famously stubborn, would never too. Until, Molly Weasley came into the room with a cheerful smile on her face. "Fleur-"

"What's happening here?"

The plump witch took in the scene with some confusion. The offensive stance of both young women broke when bright light invaded the room as suddenly as Molly did. Both automatically brought their hands up to their faces to shield their eyes from the glare.

"Nothing."

Molly glanced at Fleur with a dubious look on her face.

"Yes, it was nothing, Mrs Weasley. We were just talking."

Molly turned to the younger girl, who flashed a small, assuring smile at her. Then, she turned back to look at the older one, who acknowledged with a nod.

"All right, I am glad nothing's wrong. Oh, Fleur, can you come with me for a while please? I need a little help with something."

"Oui," Fleur did not even bothered to dip her head.

Molly exited with a small smile. Fleur strode to the door, briefly stopping next to the brunette, who remained silent. The brunette glared back, but Fleur merely reciprocate with an impassive look at the girl out of the corner of her eye, before striding out, leaving Hermione standing alone in the room.

And the room was left dark and cold.