A.N: THis is more or less a linking chapter, so I apologise for the lack of Fleur/ Hermione interaction. More to come!

Chapter 4

Transfiguration lesson the next day was no different. Much to the delight of a certain Ron Weasley, Fleur Delacour once again stood by the teacher's table, welcoming the students with the same, familiar, simper on her face. The very same one that Hermione used to hate with all her guts. Yes, used to. But now? Hermione was unsure of what she was feeling.

The intern was wearing the same, boring, plain black robes that the other professors often donned; save for the stupid, black pointed hat which she has fashionably chose to leave out. Hermione could not understand why and how she could manage to carry off the entire look so vastly differently. The dull robe accentuated her perfect figure, clinging to her curves almost sinfully, giving her an air of elegance. It seemed to make her skin emanate a soft, silvery glow, bringing out the contrast between skin and robe. Golden hues of the Sun's morning rays filtered through the numerous windows along the walls, illuminating her silky, flowing hair of silvery-blonde, and adding a touch of iridescence to her eyes of blue. Hermione cringed as she thought of yesterday.

The students entered the room just like they have always done, and took their respective seats in chatters and excited voices. The famous Trio strutted to the front and took their places at the front of the classroom, led by an excited Ron who practically skipped his way to the seat, though almost tripping a few times over his own elephantine feet.

Being in such close vicinity of the Veela, Hermione Granger's heart leaped just as a wave of ambivalence engulfed her. Her body tensed, and she felt...feelings that she had never felt before, not in her seventeen years of life. She tried to put a name to these feelings, but she could not, and that irritated the girl. She slammed her armful of books onto the desk, making such a commotion that everyone turned to look her way

"Anything wrong, Ms Granger?"

Hermione silently cursed herself when the Frenchwoman walked to her side, perfectly poised.

"Hmm?"

Hermione averted her eyes away from the woman, trying hard not to think about how sexy Fleur looked with her head slightly tilted to the side in a questioning manner. She jerked her head violently to show that nothing was wrong, but she wasn't sure whether Fleur understood her.

But Fleur did. But not in the way that Hermione had really meant. Being an intuitive woman, and with Veela blood flowing in her veins, she knew that Hermione did not feel comfortable around her, not at all. From the first few days back, she picked up signs of the brunette's hostility towards her, though why, she still did not know for sure, but she assumed that it was just her blood heritage.

And now, Fleur thought that Hermione was just annoyed with her, or maybe jealous? It didn't make much of a difference, not to Fleur anyway. For she just could not be bothered to care.

Giving a curt nod to no one in particular, the action probably was just an acknowledgement to herself, the blonde moved away from the brunette and floated to the front of the class.

Hermione, on the other hand, knew the reason. Of course she does. But she was afraid to face it. She would rather choose to be in denial, then to accept the truth head on in this complicated case. She was pretty much annoyed with herself when Fleur walked away. It would not do for Fleur to find out how she really feels; she would only laugh at her and mock her for being a naive little girl. Her expression hardened at the thought, and she frowned at her desk in annoyance. And then Hermione decided to busy and distract herself with her notes during the lesson so as not to risk giving her feelings away, the feelings that she should not be having in the first place.

After the last sounds have died down, Fleur Delacour addressed the class in that irresistibly smooth voice of hers, which sent shivers down Hermione's spine. Hermione visibly shuddered, and the action was not missed by the sharp eyes of Fleur Delacour, who brushed it off as another sign of irritation of the brunette.

"Bonjour class. You must be surprise to see me here again today, non? Unfortunately, Professor McGonagall's cold from yesterday has worsened, and she has temporarily lost her voice. While she recuperates and regain her health, I will take over her lessons. So I guess zat means zat I will most probably be seeing you for ze rest of ze week."

Whoops and cheers from the boys interrupted her words, while the girls merely rolled their eyes, all except for one. Hermione Granger stared hard at her Transfiguration textbook, as though expecting it to jump up and perform a series of complicated cartwheels. Her face was void of expressions, but a million thoughts ran through her head. But this time, she was not going to let her thoughts take control of her expressions, no, in fact, not anymore.

**

Teaching, like any other thing, was not a problem for the smart and capable Delacour. Nevertheless, Fleur was thankful that the class has been very cooperative with her in lessons. Well, largely thankful. Aside from a bunch of infuriating Slytherins whom she have to constantly dish out detentions to, the rest were pretty much well behaved. That however, could not make her disagree that some of the students' behaviour do irked her quite a lot; like that particular Draco Malfoy, who had tried to flirt with her during lessons. It took every ounce of self-control in the intern not to punch that little prick and put him in his rightful place, though she did gave him a well-deserved detention with Argus Filch for his insolence. Hopefully, the Slytherin boy would know better in future not to mess with Fleur Delacour.

Another thing, which the Frenchwoman had found disturbing, was Ronald Weasley constant staring at her in a disgusting, sappy fashion, topped with a dreamy look in his eye, as if she were some tasty-looking morsel of food. There was no need to mention how much he drooled either. She was greatly turned off by his drooling and perverse staring, but there was nothing much she could do about it.

At least, Fleur thought, he was still in the condition to jot down the occasional notes that I wrote on the board.

It was not that Fleur was not glad and flattered to have him, and the rest of the class (save for a certain brunette), giving her their fullest attention, but it was just that she could get uneasy and uncomfortable to have them keeping track of her each and every move too. She hated it because it gave her the feeling that she was under surveillance, without any freedom to do what she want to without people knowing.

It may seemed incredibly shocking that a part-Veela like Fleur Delacour was still not used to gawking men or women, but that, unfortunately, was the sad truth. Fleur heaved a sigh. Part of the reason why she hate all the attention was also because she was afraid to be caught in embarrassing situations. How would you like having tons of people staring at you all the time? What if she fell down on her nose or bang into a wall? It would not take long for thousands of people would know about it. The embarrassment that she would have to face if that happens was too much for her to bear, that she could not even stand thinking about it.

Okay, enough mention of the sensitive stuffs.

Going about the lesson, Fleur could not help but noticed that a particular student seemed to be paying less attention to her than she desired. What she totally did not expect was that the student was Hermione Granger though. Hermione seemed, to Fleur, to be a little off that day; like there was something bothering her.

Not once has the brainy witch volunteered an answer to a question or even asked any. Neither once has her well-timed hand shot through the air before the others, or even after. It seemed to Fleur that her Transfiguration textbook was much more interesting Fleur was; an unexpected change for once. Hermione was staring so hard at it that she could have burn a hole in it with her glare. Fleur could not think of any other reason for Hermione's weird behaviour towards her. The girl had not glanced at Fleur (surprisingly) even once ever since she had entered the room. Maybe she did, but most certainly, Fleur did not notice.

During the entire period, the brunette just sat there and furiously scribbled down notes. This was the first time that she has not treated the intern with blatant hostility too. In fact, she seems to be totally ignoring any eye contact with her, let alone a glare or a single scowl. Things were indeed queer, especially to the intern, who was very much confused by the young woman's inconsistent behaviour.

Fleur highly doubt that it was any fault on her part which caused Hermione to behave this way. They were never on talking terms, and it was not as if they were very close in the first place. Fleur could not understand why she even care so much about the girl in the first place; it was not as if she really mattered to Fleur that much. She was just another student of mine, no doubt a very gifted one. Her level of intelligence was something Fleur could never disagree with.

Though sometimes Fleur do get rather irritated with Hermione for being such a know-it-all. She never knew whether Hermione's passion for answering questions was just that, a passion, or whether it was more than that. Could she be trying to flaunt her intelligence? Maybe.

However, she was oddly reserved and silent in Fleur's lesson.

Fleur put it off as anger and irritation on Hermione's part. Guessing that she was overly concerned of how Hermione has been reacting towards her, she decided not to care so much anymore. What was the point of putting herself at the receiving end of the brunette's fury? Her cold and harsh attitude could really hurt.

Though she has decided not to care anymore, some part of her still cling on to thoughts of the brunette, refusing to let go. It was then Fleur started to question her confused self. Why was she so bothered about that brunette and her response towards her, that she let it affect herself so much? Why does this particular girl, or young woman, have such an influence over her? Shouldn't she be used to the hostile and jealous treatment of the females as a whole?

Growing up as a part-Veela, Fleur had to learn to live with many things, no matter how much she disliked doing so. Stares from the male population (sometimes even from the females) was normal, and Fleur has learnt to live with it, regardless of how much she hated it. Jealous vibes from the females was no unusual phenomenon either, and Fleur has learnt to ignore them. Gotten used to all these do not mean that she felt totally comfortable with it (no one in their right mind would be). It just meant that she have reached the stage whereby she could tune them all out, and ignore all of these, which always tend to make her uncomfortable.

Because of that, Fleur would not be surprised if she was thought to be a stuck up or arrogant, rich brat, because she just could not be bothered to deal with the jealousy of others. Let them think what they want; Fleur Delacour has no heart to care. She would never condescend herself in the hope of getting others to accept her, or to bring herself down to their level just to accommodate them, for that's simply just not her.

She would give anything to bet that Hermione was just jealous of her blood heritage, or to be more exact, herr jealousy was caused by Fleur's thrall, and that was where the problem lies. But since there was no way to rein in the Veela's thrall completely, it would not be Fleur's problem. It would be Hermione problem, and she would just have to learn to accept the thrall. Fleur have never worried her brain cells over the other petty females; she does not see any need to do so. So why should the brunette be any different?

**

[in the evening]

"Acid Pops."

The stone gargoyle flanking the entrance to the Headmaster's office moved aside upon registering the password, though not before casting a look of suspicion on the student. The movement from the gargoyle and the wall behind it revealed a majestic moving spiral staircase, which would indeed be quite an amazing sight to a Muggle's eye. Harry Potter stepped onto the staircase with practiced ease, and the staircase began to move instantly.

"Come in." Dumbledore's calm voice ricocheted off the walls of his circular office as Harry knocked twice on the wooden door. Pushing the door open gently, the teen stepped into the office and greeted the elderly professor.

"Good evening, Professor Dumbledore."

"Ah, yes, it has been a rather pleasant evening so far. Let's begin, shall we? Please take a seat."

Fawkes the phoenix let out a squawk as Dumbledore gestured to the seat in front of his desk. Resting upon his desk was what Harry had first assumed to be a huge stone basin, when he did not have the slightest inkling on its uses. Feeling uneasy, he remembered his previous trip (without permission, of course) into the basin and its strange swirling contents. Snape had been so upset and angered that he refused to continue the Occlumency lessons for Harry.

"If I am not wrong, bless me if I am, but I am sure that you know what this is?"

Dumbledore queried, his right hand holding down the half-mooned spectacles, which rested low on the bridge of his nose, allowing his eyes to peer over the top.

"A pensive, sir?"

A small, warm smile stretched itself slowly across his face, lined with signs of age. His eyes twinkled, synchronous with the smile that lit up his face.

"Indeed. And it is this pensive that shall help us along in the lessons to come."

**