Wow. It has been quite awhile hasn't it, everyone?

I would first and foremost like to apologize about the ridiculously long wait for this chapter. But Clinicals and my other job came back and bit me in the snobber with a vengeance. But hopefully the length of this chapter somewhat makes up for it. And all mistakes are mine in this chapter; in this entire fic, to be perfectly honest. No Beta, and on top of that I'm afraid I've become a little rusty. So I apologize for any grammar mistakes.

Actual AN: I have read over all of the reviews and I am exceptionally flattered. I'm glad everyone likes this, for the most part. And after a few people pointed out some mistakes that have occured, it actually reminded me. Because It's been quite awhile since I've read any of the Harry Potter books; except the more recent ones, obviously. But I am going to use these minor mistakes and try and add a different approach to everything. I just hope it works out.

And I also apologize about the lack of Fleur last chapter. I just feel that Hermione's first priority would be her friends above her confusing friendship with the Delacour sisters. It just seems more realistic to me; also seeing as how JK Rowling made sure that Hermione still stuck at the mission at hand instead of chasing after Ron when he left in DH. Like I said before, this is Hermione-centric/Trio and the romance will eventually make itself a large part of the story. But for now, the build-up! But Fleur will be in this chapter quite regularly, so enjoy. And I promise, this is Hermione/Fleur. It will NOT be Hermione/Fleur/Gabrielle. Or Hermione/Fleur/Someone else. I think.

And this chapter is slow, so I apologize for that.

Reviews and opinions welcome, as always.

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Howlers(Well Isn't This Fun)/I Wanna Know(Even More)/Lotus Flower

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The Great Hall: 12:16 PM. 2 Days after The Whomping Willow.

"I thin' we actually got outta'it quite well."

Hermione's lips pursed at Ron over the crinkled up Daily Prophet; her knuckles were becoming an even more ghostly white. Every time he brought up their actions two days ago - which he had been doing mindlessly the last five minutes - and the resulting consequences, she was quickly on her way to a complete and utter breakdown. Harry seemed to sense this and kept giving her considerably worried glances, but Ron just continued on obliviously and obnoxiously; gloating, for lack of a better term. It was driving her painstakingly mad; she was pretty sure her cheeks were a violent shade of red that probably matched said counter-part's hair.

She was accustomed to breaking at least fifty school rules a year; it would just be odd if they didn't. But Hermione also reasoned to herself that this only occurred when there was absolutely no choice in the matter; it was their lives on the line, if not the entire Hogwart's population. But what had happened two days ago was just a poor lack of judgement on Harry and Ron's part. And even hers for allowing all of those ridiculous mishaps to even trapse forth! She admitted regretfully to herself that not even she could have stopped the two, but she could have at least tried harder. Hermione was nothing if not disciplined; most of the time, anyway.

And the one part of the time where she wasn't, well, there were certainly consequences; also tangled beautifully with humiliation and annoyance.

"Honestly, Severus! Expulsion?" McGonagall's gaze was narrowed at her rival head-of-house, clearly fuming.

Snape's lips were curled up in a sneer, and he seemed to recall his fellow Hogwart's teacher with amusement. Dumbledore, suprisingly, had chosen to remain completely silent as the argument in front of him became even more fierce by his fellow Lion and Snake; his frayed and aging hands were crossed daintily in front of him, and he seemed to regard the two with a slight frown.

Hermione could feel Harry twitching in anticipation next to her, and Ron was full out scuffling his feet and watching the argument with wide eyes. A part of her could see the way Albus Dumbledore's eyes - while echoing an almost nonexistent frustration at his two teachers - would occasionally grace over the three of them; a part of her knew that everything was going to be alright. Maybe it was the peace surrounding the silver-bearded Headmaster; it could possibly be the almost fondness when he looked over at the three of them, with his blue eyes producing a faint twinkle and his chin raising slightly. She could have sworn she noticed his lips briefly twitch.

"Maybe if you kept your students in line, Minerva -"

"Severus." And just like that, the two arguing voices quieted upon hearing Dumbledore's quiet - but powerful - tone.

Dumbledore now had his fingers interwoven, and he was peering over the thin rims of his glasses. Snape just crossed his arms, pursing his thin lips together; there was an almost air of respect around Snape whenever Albus Dumbledore was present, and especially when the man spoke. Hermione always found herself befuddled and beyond curious; she doubted Harry and Ron noticed these almost imperceptive things like she did. But then again, everyone had that similiar state of mind around Dumbledore; he made you feel like you were merely a weakling in his powerful presence, but at the same time he gazed at you like you were anything but weak. It was as disconcerting as it was inspiring.

"I believe expulsion is a little harsh considering how minor the circumstances," murmured Albus, his voice prim yet nothing but kind.

Snape actually stumbled over his next words as his arms uncrossed. "Minor circumstances, Dumbledore? I found Potter and Weasley in the Shrieking Shack as well as Miss Granger coming out of -"

Dumbledore unlocked his fingers and raised one of his hands, immediately silencing Severus, who looked like Dumbledore had sprouted two heads; a trace of bitterness was there as well. And McGonagall had raised her chin up at Snape, knowing that Albus would never let it get as far as an expulsion; it was a victory for her, but then again, Dumbledore always had been almost annoyingly fair to every student at Hogwarts. It made the aging woman proud that she was his right-hand woman.

" - And I understand that perfectly Severus," the Headmaster nodded. "There will be punishment, so do not fret."

Snape snorted and droned out, "With all do respect Headmaster, your forms of punishment are perhaps...a bit too accommodating?"

Albus Dumbledore pushed a heavily wrinkled finger upon the nose of his glasses, gently peering over the top of them once more. His blue eyes did not falter whatsoever in their twinkling, but Hermione thought she detected a hint of warning in Dumbledore's eyes. His raised a thick silver eyebrow at Snape, who seemed to release an almost inaudible sigh of defeat.

The former Slytherin just sent one final look at the three of them still huddled in the corner, before turning around and sweeping out of the office in a swift pace; the bottom of his cloaked billowed and swept elegantly behind the silently raging man as he shut the door to Dumbledore's office with a firm slam.

Hermione felt Harry's sweaty grip on her hand immediately drop. She had been so caught up in everything that was happening that she hadn't even realized he had grabbed it. She could see him looking plenty relieved in the corner of her eye; she was not ready to look at him directly yet, because she doesn't believe she honestly could without storming off or blurting out something to Dumbledore that Harry would never trust her again with. She kept her lips sealed and her gaze on the Headmaster, trying not to roll her eyes at Ron's ecstatic grin out of the corner of her other eye.

"You three just cannot seem to stay out of trouble."

Hermione's breathing hitched at Dumbledore's words.

He was looking at them with no malice or anger on his face, but more like defeat. She thought she detected brief amusement as well. But he seemed to slowly rise from his chair, ever so slowly coming to walk around his desk. After about a minute of staring at the Headmaster in stunned silence, he finally stood in front of the three of them.

"I will leave the punishment to Professor McGonagall," he nodded towards her. "But I hope that the next time this happens, you realize that I cannot protect you every time this occurs."

She could feel Ron slump his shoulders to the right of her; she felt the complete opposite from Harry at her left side; he had tensed his entire body. She summed up all of her courage and looked flinchingly into Dumbledore's eyes as he surveyed them quietly. He met her eyes dead on, before his eyes flickered briefly over Harry's form.

"And always remember - " he continued, peering at the three of them over his moon glasses, his eyes straying towards Harry. " - that if you ever wish...to tell me something, that I will most certainly listen."

Hermione only barely restrained from her eyes widening exponentially, a feat that Ron failed to do as he stuttered. Hermione elbowed him as discreetly as possible. And she surveyed the frightening clench in Harry's jaw; his emerald eyes were burning in what one could only describe as fear, and he seemed to know this as he glanced away quickly from Dumbledore's probing gaze and nodded his head briefly at the not-convinced Headmaster. But as the old man in flaming red robes crossed back over to his desk after giving a nod to McGonagall, she knew that the trouble hadn't even started yet.

McGonagall gave them a stern glare as she ushered them quickly from the office; the stony silence only continued down the halls of Hogwarts as they came near the portrait of the Fat Lady, who immediately shrunk under the firm eyes of the Headmistress. The aging woman crossed her arms in front of her, shaking her head in a barely controlled manner while taking a deep breath.

"You three will serve detention with me for the next four weeks in my office -" her eyes narrowed dangerously at a groaning Ron Weasley, " - for twice a week."

Hermione grit her teeth and looked down at the ground so she didn't throttle Harry and Ron, because this was most certainly cutting into her investigation of Fleur, helping Harry with the competition, and precious study time. She was going to kill them after they fell asleep later on in the night. She was gonna make them pay and wish they had slept with one eye open because she was Hermione Granger and she was pissed the sodding hell off.

" -And I do not know what is happening with you three, but I suggest you sort it all out. Between Miss Granger diving into lakes and shooting grindelows miles into the air along with Mr. Potter -"

The brunette could feel a little bit of red infuse her cheeks at this point.

" - Competing in this tournament not meant for fourth years, I just do not what to do with you three anymore."

Ron opened his mouth, looking at Professor McGonagall with an almost pout on his face; Hermione found herself completely apalled by him. But he was looking hopefully at Professor McGonagall, whose gaze had become even more stern at him; she almost looked hopeless.

"And you too, Mr. Weasley," she snapped at him, watching as his face brightened at the recognition. "For just being...well, your lack of disciplinary self."

So no one could really blame her for giving the stiff shoulder to both Harry and Ron.

Not to mention Fred and George, because they had not helped that situation at all; they kept sending her apologetic looks whenever they could, which have lead to several eye-rolls on her part. She just honestly wasn't in the mood to deal with any of the Weasley's at this point in time; even poor Ginny, who couldn't help who she was related to.

It's just the stress of dealing with Barty Crouch Jr. always keeping a suspicious eye on the three of them, among her confusing interactions with the Delacour sisters and just about any girl that was wearing a Beauxbaton's uniform nowadays; it was starting to affect her sleeping habits and her moods drastically. She had actually doodled in Professor Binn's class yesterday. Doodled! And when Ron had gone to copy her notes from the lesson he had looked at her as if he had never seen her before when she told him that she honestly hadn't taken any notes.

And it most certainly hadn't helped that last night was the first detention that the three had to participate in. Hermione had been given the wonderous duty of polishing all of the trophies for Gryffindor house...without a wand. She swore that if she polished one more bloody golden Gryffindor Lion, then she was transfering houses. And it didn't help that Harry and Ron got the incredibly challenging duties of just sitting there and bitching about why they were there in the first place. She loved her boys to death, but recently she had been ready to hex them into a complete oblivion that not even Dumbledore could arise them from.

She huffed and tossed down her Daily Prophet with a bit more roughness than necessary.

"That's easy for you to say, Ronald Weasley. I have quite a vivid memory of you doing absolutely nothing while I was the one polishing trophies."

He seemed to shrink back on the bench at her fierce gaze; his face was slightly pale and it made his freckles stand out even more so. Harry winced in his seat next to Ron, looking at Hermione apologetically while eating a small portion of his porridge. At least the smaller teen had enough experience - with her flaming temper, of course - and wisdom to stay quiet and not try to outright defend himself, which his red-headed counterpart was attempting. At least Harry had the knowledge that arguing back with Hermione when she actually was correct only infuriated the girl even more.

Ron shook his head balefully. "Im'a just sayin' it coulda been worse, Hermione. We coulda actually been expelled."

"We shouldn't have even been in that situation in the first place! It just proves that you two can't think things through -"

"Cor, Hermione! But everything seems 'ta' be fine and dandy when you go aroun' breakin' the rules!"

"Harry's almost drowned you inconsiderate prat! What would you have had me done? Just sit there with the rest of Hogwarts and watch my two best friends drown because -"

Harry just continually watched the two go back and forth with wide eyes; he looked more than a little frightened when Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, daring him to come to Ron's defenses. She could faintly notice - when Ron wasn't waving his hands in the air like a wild and uncultured baboon - that they were drawing a fair bit of attention from the Great Hall at how loud their argument was getting. She noticed Harry seemed to realize the same thing as he instantly lurched forward onto the bench.

"Enough!" He hissed it loudly and emphatically, causing Hermione to pause in the middle of her sentence.

Ron's hands froze from where they had been gesturing wildly. He looked around the Great Hall slowly and seemed to deflate in his seat slightly; she snorted when his cheeks and ears became a flaming magenta that easily rivaled his hair. Hermione looked at Harry gratefully, who nodded his head and began to send warning glares at the many students watching.

The brunette just latched onto the Daily Prophet - who suprisingly hadn't written any articles of her as of late - to quell her raging temper and mask her slight discomfort. She just took a deep breath as she idly turned the page and continuously ignored her surroundings.

A part of her could see Fleur's questioning blue eyes and she tried to mask herself further into the temperamental - and horribly inaccurate - newspaper.

She had seen Fleur as soon as she had walked into the Great Hall; she honestly didn't know when her first priority had become to immediately seek out the French witch. It confused her and she tried to reason that she just wanted to make sure the silver-haired woman was alright. She hadn't seen Beauxbaton champion since that night; she could remember the wails of the creature, and those hypnotic - yet frightening - red eyes bore into her even though she had been in the invisibility cloak. She could remember the twigs snapping and her panting breaths as she had run as fast as she could from the Veela; she had been terrified and she didn't deny it. She didn't know if Fleur was aware of her surroundings when she transformed into her Veela form; it seemed like Fleur hadn't been aware of anything except her own agony. And while a part of her was still admittedly wary of the French girl, she also felt a blossoming pain in her chest for her friend.

From the way Fleur smiled and talked to a few of her Beauxbaton classmates, everything seemed to be fine. But now Hermione knew better. There was something deeper; it was digging at the French witch and causing her to actually change on school grounds, and no one but Maxime - and possibly Gabrielle - seemed to be none the wiser. She had only skimmed briefly over the Veela book and it only mentioned a Veela changing if its mate - or one of them - were in danger or if the Veela itself were scared and completely overwhelmed with emotions.

And the book then mentioned that it was rarely the latter.

So Hermione knew that it must have been something horrible for the French girl to turn into her Veela. Because according to Gabrielle, there hadn't been any Veelas with a mate over the past century; it made her afraid for her friend. It also made her completely curious as to why Fleur had been feeling such strong emotions that she had turned. And Hermione remembered that the French girl had been only partly transformed; an incomplete transformation, if you will. It had been stuck in her head for the past day now and unable to make its way out.

She hadn't even realized that she had now discarded the Daily Prophet and was now surveying Fleur quite openly.

The French witch in question received a gentle nudge to her shoulder by her friend; Hermione quickly recognized her as that mysterious Beauxbaton girl who had read her palm and had been accompanying Gabrielle over Hogwart's grounds. The brunette Beauxbaton had raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow at Hermione and nudged Fleur once more, who finally turned to her.

Hermione felt her face flush when Fleur turned towards her direction - after a subtle head gesture from her friend - and met her gaze head on.

Fleur's eyes were boring into her own, and there was a friendly smile starting to grow upon her flawless face. Hermione's breath hitched briefly as she imagined magenta eyes replacing the stunning blues; she could see the feathers on the French witch's arms extending up towards her neck. She could see the veins in Fleur's neck and hear her wailing in agony; she could still hear the twigs snapping and Maxim's commanding roar as she ran as fast as she could. She hadn't even realized that she was breathing heavily now, her palms sweating against the tabletop as the bright sunshine of the Great Hall replaced the Forbidden Forest that she had ventured into deep inside her memory.

Fleur's smile had completely faltered now, and pure worry was etched upon her features; her blue eyes reflected unparalleled fear.

Hermione realized that she must have looked completely terrified, because Ron was looking at her with his brows furrowed and Harry was grabbing her hand from across the table. She felt as if she were being pulled from a vortex; Hogwarts and everyone came back into focus, where they had previously been just blurry figures. It was odd seeing everyone converse and eat happily as if nothing dark had come upon them.

Hermione inwardly groaned when she realized that she was probably going completely nutters. Better reserve her a spot at St. Mungo's in the insane ward.

She exhaled shakily, "I'm fine, Harry. Just nervous about this Ancient Runes exam."

Ron snorted, but she noticed he looked significantly relieved. He gently knicked the remaining tart of her plate - after her distracted nod of approval - and ate silently; he would occassionally look up at her as if to reassure himself that she was actually alright. No such luck with Harry, though. His emerald eyes were boring into her, and his brow was quirked up in doubt. She just attempted her best at a smile and tried to ignore the burning of Fleur's eyes on the side of her face as she looked away.

She looked up gratefully when Ron attempted to start a conversation.

"So how about them Chudley Cannons?"

She couldn't quite keep her lips from twitching upwards in fondness.

"Ron, the Cannons are the worst team in the league," stated Harry, his voice rather bland. "Didn't they loose against Scotland by three hundred points?"

Hermione let loose a slight grin as Ron retaliated with a quick fire defense. Despite the fact that she wasn't too keen on Quidditch, she was glad that they were at least attempting to cover up the awkwardness that had previously been present. She wasn't necessarily paying attention, with them discussing 'Chaser statistics' and all, but it was enough to make her shoulders lose their previous rigidness. Ron's brown eyes were bright with anger as he attempted to preserve the honor of his Quidditch team while Harry just looked plain amused by the red-head's vigor. It actually got to the point where Ron looked ready to explode before he looked towards the many owls that were swarming in and then paled significantly. He look horrified.

Both her and Harry turned their heads and she could faintly make out both Hedwig and Pig. Hedwig was merely carrying a white standard envelope while Pig...

Pig was carrying a bright red envelope with a black bow tied along the middle. She knew exactly what that was, given their humiliating experience with it back in Second year. And she heard Ron's breathing pick up frantically as Pig neared them, his brown wings spread wide and his rapidly swaying form justling the owls next to him. She heard Ron squeak as Pig finally arrived at the table; it was good to see Pig's landing had vastly improved seeing as he only soiled a glass of Pumpkin juice. The three of them just looked at each other, watching as the envelope squirmed impatiently to be opened.

She vaguely noticed that Ginny was sending them sympathetic looks while surrounded by the rest of her Third year friends.

Well, at least someone didn't happen to find the humiliation of a Howler completely hysterical. Because Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas were roaring with laughter and antagonizing Ron to open it. She hastily shot them seething glares and their laughter only grew louder; Seamus was laughing so hard that you could barely understand what he was saying, which was also helped by his thick Irish accent.

"C'mon, Ronnie! We ain' got all day now do we?"

Ron's face was a flaming magenta and his freckled hands were shaking horribly as he went to pick up the now hissing envelope. She watched as the majority of the Gryffindor house peered over at the envelope with curious glances; most of them had excited grins on their faces. Luckily, the rest of the Great Hall didn't seem to know about someone receiving a Howler.

Until now.

"RONALD WEASLEY!"

Hermione winced as the absolute raging voice of Molly Weasley permeated the entire Great Hall.

"OFF OF SCHOOL GROUNDS AFTER HOURS? AN ENTIRE MONTH OF DETENTION? YOUR FATHER AND I ARE ABSOLUTELY APPALED AT YOUR BEHAVIOUR, RONALD WEASLEY! WE HAVE NEVER HAD THESE DELIQUENT PROBLEMS WITH PERCY, CHARLIE, BILL AND GINNY! BETWEEN YOU, FRED, AND GEORGE ALWAYS GETTING YOURSELVES INTO TROUBLE AT HOGWARTS I'M SUPRISED THAT PROFESSOR DUMBLEDORE HASN'T EXPELLED THE THREE OF YOU!"

She felt her own face flame - almost as much as Ron and Ginny's - as the power of Mrs. Weasley's voice caused the entire student body to turn and survey them; a fair amount of them were snickering and gesturing at a stricken Ron. And despite feeling remnants of annoyance at both Ron and Harry, she couldn't help but feel a bout of sympathy overtake her as she surveyed Ron sinking onto the bench and looking at Harry helplessly; Harry himself was blushing quite spectacularly. She could just see the students of Beauxbaton and Durmstrang craning their heads and looking at their little area with faint amusement; a few had their noses turned up in arrogance and disgust.

"YOU, HARRY, AND HERMIONE ALWAYS FIND SOMEWAY TO END UP IN DANGER -"

This time it was both Hermione and Harry that sunk down into their seats; her hand came to rest upon her now perspiring forehead as she attempted to ignore the stares of everyone and the hysterical jeers made by several Gryffindors; Seamus, Dean, and Lee Jordan, if she wanted to be accurate.

" - AND I ALWAYS HAVE TO FRET WITH HARRY COMPETING IN THIS RIDICULOUS TOURNAMENT AND HERMIONE ACTING OUT AS A SCARLET WOMAN -"

It was now Fred and George that had fallen off the bench because they were laughing so uproariously. Her face was on fire, and it grew to the tips of her ears as she noticed the Beauxbaton girl's giggling and prodding a still astounded Fleur; the French witch looked more than a little befuddled. And she could see Viktor frowning and looking oddly enough between her and a blushing Harry.

" - AND IMAGINE MY REACTION WHEN I LEARNT THAT HERMIONE HAD BEEN COMING OUT OF THE FORBIDDEN FOREST AND YOU TWO HAD BEEN CAUGHT -"

NO! Hermione's eyes widened in sheer panic; she could see Harry and Ron's doing the same as Harry hastily sat up on the bench and attempted to grasp at the shrilling envelope. She shakily grabbed her wand out of her Hogwart's robes and stood up in a rapid fire speed. Crouch Jr. absolutely could not know that Harry and Ron followed him, and she could feel the fear consume her veins and rush into her pre-palpitating heart as she realized that Fleur was now prone to the knowledge that she had been in the Forbidden Forest that night.

Her fiery brown eyes turned upon the envelope and she could vaguely make out Harry's eyes widening in seeing her aiming her Redwood and Dragon-Heartstring wand at the moving envelope. He quickly released his hands from around the envelope and took a quick stumble back off of the bench, half-heartedly pulling a frozen Ron with him.

"Incarcerous," she hissed furiously, watching as the envelope was lit by harsh flames and the harsh shrills of Mrs. Weasley ceased before she could say anything more.

Both Ron and Harry were looking at her gratefully; they also looked the lightest bit frightened, which she really couldn't blame them. She probably looked raging right now. She just lowered her wand slowly and attempted to regain her pride a little by raising her head in the air, attempting to fade her blush. Besides the obvious laughter of the previous culprits, she carefully grabbed her knapsack and gestured for Harry and Ron to do the same, which they did without much prompting. She carefully avoided looking at the Ravenclaw table as she strode down the table with a scurrying Harry and Ron on the other side.

She thought she heard Terry Boot say faintly, "That was a sixth year spell."

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Moody's Abandoned Classroom: 6:42 PM.

Hermione ducked hastily as another stunning spell was sent at her rapidly moving form.

They had been dueling for the past hour and the brunette wouldn't deny that she was exhausted. But that didn't matter to her, because she vowed to help Harry in any way she could and she figured both of their dueling skills could definitely be improved. And with the Triwizard Tournament, it was safe to say that Harry could use the practice and skill more than she could. She flinched as another desk was hurled across the room towards her, and she grunted as she shot a deflecting spell at it. She straightened and her thoughts raced as she pointedly ignored the sickening crack of wood splintering on the wall.

"Aguamenti!" She bellowed.

She smirked in victory when Harry looked up confusedly at her; he was sweating just as much as her, and his glasses were slightly askew as a particular vein in his neck bulged as he battled. She watched as his eyes widened in understanding at her tactics, and he was barely able to regain his footing from the massive amount of water hurled at his scuffling feet. But even that brief moment to regain his footing cost him.

"Petrificus Totalus!" murmured Hermione, watching in satisfaction as Harry could not quite get up his shield in time.

The spell broke through Harry's developing - therefore small - shield and struck him in the middle of his chest. His eyes had widened as the spell hit him, and she watched as his already pale complexion became pallor and statuesque. His hands snapped to his sides, and she slightly winced as he dropped to the floor with a loud thud. She could already feel the apologies forming in her head as she hastily went to fix her fallen friend. Harry's wide emerald eyes stared up at her as se hovered above him and waved her wand.

He slowly regained his color and breath, and she extended her hand to him as she helped him off of the cold ground.

"Looks like you bested me again, Hermione," he muttered, scratching the back of his head.

She sighed at his disheartened tone and she leaned forward and gently readjusted the crooked glasses on his nose. She just peered up at him - it seems as if he had grown an inch or two - and gave him a reassuring smile, grabbing his hand gently and squeezing his thin and lengthy fingers.

"You're a good dueler, Harry," she spoke, gently stowing her wand back in her Hogwart's robes. "Quite a bit more powerful than me, actually. You just need to use -"

" - As many resources that are presented around me," Harry finished, quoting the brunette. "I know."

Hermione just nodded her head and sat down, finally allowing herself to properly relax. She gestured toward the empty space on the desk beside her, which Harry quickly made his way over to. She just exhaled softly into the silence of the room, watching as the many artifacts of the room moved about.

"I know that you don't want to talk about this right now, but have you given any thought on telling -"

"No, Hermione," Harry interjected swiftly. "I'm not telling Dumbledore."

The brunette found herself huffing indignantly and pursing his lips up towards the ceiling of the classroom; she was desperately trying to reign in her annoyance with her best friend's lack of logic pertaining to his life. It was absolutely exhausting always having to be the one who was the voice of reason. She honestly didn't know if she would be able to do it much longer. Eventually Harry - and Ron, especially - would have to grow up and realize that she wasn't always going to be there to help them make decisions and supply the answers. And she wouldn't deny that it hurt, knowing that when that day came that her immediate presence with the two boys would slowly begin to fade away; she would only be their friend who happened to be a girl, not their friend that they relied upon day in and day out.

"I was talking about Sirius," she whispered.

Harry froze up unexpectedly at Hermione's words, clearly suprised that she was no longer pushing the Dumbledore issue. He turned to look at her, frowning slightly and twitching his fingers against the desk; she knew immediately that this idea of hers might be the only thing that could get through to Harry. Sirius Black might be the only figure that Harry would approach with this, so Hermione planned to take full advantage of Harry's strong liking for his newly reinstated Godfather.

"Just-just think about it, Harry," Hermione interrupted, watching as Harry opened his mouth. "If there is anyone we can trust, it's him. He could help us."

Harry's emerald eyes just stared forward.

"Because we don't know what Crouch Jr. is planning. He clearly wants you to get through the Third Task, but we haven't the slightest idea of what he is capable of."

He eventually turned his head toward her and looked at her; there were numerous emotions flashing across his face. But what had always made Hermione breathless were his eyes; not only was the colour beautiful and unique, but it was also the many emotions that she could always search and find. Whenever Harry looked brave, his eyes reflected fear; whenever he looked uncharacteristically carefree, his eyes would burst with happiness that would consume his entire iris and pupil in an unmistakeable twinkle. She could always figure it out just by his eyes alone.

And they were currently radiating with a desperation.

"I promise I'll think about it, Hermione," he muttered, turning his head away from her and looking down.

She nodded almost imperceptively. "Alright."

She watched as he moved off the desk, his shoulders hunched and his head down. He just trapsied towards the main entrance of the room, flicking his wand and muttering the cleaning spell. Hermione just watched Harry's form arrive at the closed door, the numerous objects occassionally obscuring her vision, but not quite distracting her from her quest to observe.

He turned back around around. "You might want to consider leaving soon, Hermione. Mood- Crouch Jr. might want his classroom back soon."

His sardonic tone cause Hermione to close her eyes and sigh loudly. She really couldn't blame him; Crouch Jr. had been pushing Harry to train for the Third Task, even offering little hints as to what lied ahead in the Third Task. It only clued them both in that he was most certainly trying to get Harry through the Triwizard Tournament alive. But that only frightened her more; she didn't how this was all going to end. It anguished her that Harry refused to tell anyone and that he would have to face whatever it was alone if he continued down this similiar path.

But Crouch Jr. had been ecstatic when they asked if they could practice dueling in his classroom. He kindly suggested that he would love to supervise and give them useful information. Hermione had somehow convinced them to leave them be, because Harry concentrated the most when only she was around. He seemed to find this believable, because he had charmed his classroom to remain unlocked. And after searching for the Marauder's Map thoroughly and ultimately failing, they had set to work.

She reopened her eyes and watched as Harry's lips upturned into a bitter grin. "I'll catch up to you later, Hermione."

"Wait!" She hastily shouted as he paused halfway out of the doorframe. "Don't forget to start on your Charms essay, Harry!"

He turned around and shot her a genuine smile, before nodding his head and walking out.

She sighed and lowered herself onto the floor with a bit of reluctance. In all honesty, she needed to take a walk and clear the current mess in her head; she consciously began to realize exactly where she wanted to go. And because of this she found herself walking in direction of the owlery; after checking her knapsack and making sure she had a quill and parchment, of course. She knew exactly what she was going to do, with or without Harry's permission. She was exhausted from stress and worry over her friend and his reluctance to tell an authority figure. So she was taking it into her own hands, regardless of the anger and silence she might be privy to in the future.

So she walked down the corridors of Hogwarts, occassionally passing by someone and exchanging a brief greeting. She could see the beautiful glow of the Great Hall as she passed it by; she concluded that it must be around the time for the evening festivities, because people were starting to emerge from the opposite end of the corridor and further on outside. She quickened her stride and she could vaguely see the blue Beauxbaton uniforms congregating towards the entrance to the Great Hall. She thought she heard her name, so she waved a hand to placate the person; she didn't necessarily turn around though, because she was in a rush to get to the owlery.

She finally turned around the corner of the last corrider, where only three students where miling around and exchanging pleasantries. Luckily they didn't distract her.

But what did distract her were the pair of familiar heels that she heard turn down the particular corrider she was on. She breathed deeply as she didn't stop walking, adjusting the nuisance that was the straps of her knapsack. She finally reached the stairwell that curved gracefully up into the tower that was known as the owlery. She trudged her way up the steps, listening to the sounds of the owl's trilling getting closer.

She finally arrived at the anciently textured wooden door, pushing it open with both of her hands. She immediately scrunched up her nose at the smell of all the owls and more than plenty of their droppings; their annoying trills made Hermione cringe and immediately make her way over into the small corner. It really was beautiful, she mused; the sun had all but faded and had left the perfect transition of approaching nightfall intermingled brilliantly with hues of pink. She could only keep watching the mesmerizing sky as she distractedly sat down upon the significantly small bench. She slowly began to pull out a spare bit of parchment and a quill, still keeping her eyes glued to the sky.

But then she stiffened.

The faint clacking of heels had reached the top of the stairwell, and she could only pretend she hadn't noticed when the door slowly opened, its creaking obnoxious and causing the owls to flutter about once more. She took several deep breaths as the door closed gently; the heels created a different sound upon the Oak wood as they lightly and gracefully moved forward. Hermione clench her eyes closed as an airy French-accented voice rang out in the room.

" 'Ermione?"

She breathed in and breathed out, not even aware of the fact that she was now clutching her parchment in a desperate grip. Her eyes snapped open as the footsteps grew closer to her spot in the corner, and she hastily got to her feet and gripped on tightly to her knapsack. All the air had simultaneously exited her chest in such a way that Hermione almost choked; Fleur's stunning face was now peering at her emotionlessly, but there was so much anxiety in her eyes that Hermione had to grip onto something to remain stable. And she fought. She fought ruthlessly not to walk over to where Fleur was; to grab her hand and reassure her everything was alright and that she was just being completely barmy. But for some complicated reason - of which she wasn't aware - she couldn't.

Fleur's head was raised pridefully - as always. And her shoulders were pulled back regally and gracefully; if it were someone who didn't know the French witch they would probably reckon that she had taken a turn back into her arrogance. The brunette witch knew that that assumption would be anything but right. Because it was always her eyes that revealed everything; she fiercely told herself that the reason she read Fleur so well was because Harry was almost the same way.

"Fleur," she breathed softly, finally averting her eyes.

The blonde girl's head tilted and she peered at her silently; it made Hermione flush the way that Fleur was attempting to read her, and she found herself hastily turning and making her way over to one of many owl perches. She closed her eyes and dropped her knapsack; the brunette knew that if she left than she would be an open book, and Fleur would know that she was escaping. But she didn't necessarily know what she was escaping from; perhaps it was the fear that made her gut clench and her palms sweat. Because it was obviously the Veela that caused this; making her heart speed up before skipping a beat. It couldn't be Fleur in her - absolutely stunning - human form; it had to be the creature that was doing this.

She shakily perched her parchment on the ledge and tried to grasp her quill; she could at least pretend that the letter was the first thing on her mind.

"I was -" she swallowed, "-I was just writing an important letter to a friend of mine."

She could see Fleur cross her arms lightly out of the corner of her eyes. And somehow the French witch could sense her absolutely idiotic case of nervousness and jumpiness, because she approached her with light, hesitant steps until she was by her side. There was plenty of space beside them, but she swore she could feel the blonde's breathing. She should back away. Right now.

"Zey don' zeem zat important if 'ou can't even zink of w'at 'ou should say," stated Fleur, her tone light and non-threatening.

Hermione's jaw clenched harshly, because dammit this was important; her irrational fear and Fleur should not be her first priority, because it should be Harry at this point in time. And possibly her own sanity. She almost turned and snapped at the girl next to her, but she refrained. Because this was Fleur Delacour. She had treated Hermione with nothing but respect and she had even reached out to her in graciousness when she could have reached out to Harry - because he saved Gabrielle too - or anyone else at Hogwarts. And Hermione knew they would positively fall over themselves with the chance to be Fleur's friend.

"It is important," murmured Hermione, hating how faint her voice sounded. "It concerns Harry."

'Shite,' she chided herself inwardly.

" 'Arry?" Fleur asked. "Iz zere somezing wrong?"

"No!" She yelped quickly. "Nothing is wrong. I-I'm just worried about him in the tournament and keeping up with his studies because Merlin knows the boy is hopeless -"

Fleur cleared her throat gently, and Hermione trailed off her sentence with a faint blush and an apologetic look. And there was something that had flashed across Fleur's eyes; they had briefly darkened and narrowed before a friendly concern had replaced it in a flash. It was so quick that Hermione was absolutely sure she had imagined it, because she was beginning to accept the fact that she might in fact be going completely nutters. Ron's words, and now hers she supposed; reluctantly. But Fleur's head turned so that she was now facing the dark sky, her curtain of silvery-blonde hair twinkling almost as much as the stars above.

" 'Arry iz a good wizard," the French witch said, after a few moments of silence. " 'E iz zo much more zan a little boy."

Hermione nodded unconsciously at her words. "Yeah. That's why we became friends. He was - is different, and I care about him so much and it's killing me to watch him go through this."

From the corner of her eye she noticed Fleur's form go completely rigid for the briefest of seconds; she reckoned that there was still plenty of room in St. Mungos. In fact, this letter should be addressed to them and not someone else. And Hermione hated - no, absolutely detested, feeling so confused, lost, and helpless. If this was how Harry had been feeling than she was going to go hug the bloody hell out of him.

Fleur's body was now completely relaxed next to hers; she had even leaned her arms up against the vacated owl post and arched up against it. And Hermione knew that only this beautiful French woman could successfully accomplish leaning up against an owl post in the middle of a covered-in-droppings owlery and look sophisticated and lovely. The childish girl in her wanted to grumble jealously; she would never admit that the other part in her would just want to watch for hours and contemplate on the abstract qualities that she would never herself possess.

Fleur's perfectly manicured hands were skimming artfully against the intricular patterns on the Oak. Her lovely blues were slightly content now and she seemed to be far away from Hogwarts and from all the anguish that Hermione had been privy to two nights ago. It honestly warmed Hermione's heart a tad bit. She actually found herself become content; her eyes traced the corner of her parchment lazily and she found herself consciously smiling. And it was a genuine and delighted smile; not embarrassed, fake, or half-arsed. She was surprised when she heard gentle, mesmerizingly rhythmic laughter next to her. And she turned her chocolate orbs onto Fleur's intense stare. She was surveying her as if she had never seen Hermione before, and the girl in question found herself turning her head back to face her parchment.

She gasped.

Her breath hadn't vacated her body; it was struggling and rushing through every corner and vessel of her body. She was utterly certain that all the blood had pumped into her heart and had made it beat tons of thousands more the normal limit. Because Fleur was now so close to her that she could actually feel the girl's breath on her face. She could almost see every freckle of silver in Fleur's blue eyes; and blonde's eyes were positively radiating. They were radiating with a healthy dose of protectiveness and the corners crinkled with anxiety.

The girl's lean hand still lingered on Hermione's cheek, and she wasn't just grasping it now; it was holding her in place and forcing her not to run off into the night. And Hermione could feel her eyes darting back and forth confusedly across Fleur's face, silently questioning what the woman was doing. Because that's all she could hear other than her thrumming ears; utter silence. Somehow even the owls sensed the presence of the room and now most them had their heads tucked under their wings. And if Hermione weren't so damn confused and thrumming, then she would laugh with bemusement.

She thinks she might have possibly dropped her quill, but she wasn't certain. She wasn't neccessarily certain of anything right now; well, except for the fact that Fleur was right there and twinkling in the dark and confusing the sodding bloody bleeding blasting hell out of Hermione. She outright gasped, embarrassingly so, when Fleur finally broke the heavy silence.

" 'Ermione," breathed Fleur, and her voice was lower pitched and much huskier than normal.

Hermione looked at Fleur and tried not to be scared or intimidated by the closeness of the French witch. She attempted to maintain the eye contact between the two of them; she was brave and she was a Gryffindor, and she would most certainly not back down from whatever this was. And the almost desperation that was escaping Fleur in waves made her grasp her concern of her friend rather than run and never look back.

"Y-Yes?" She cursed the shakiness of her voice, and she mentally throttled herself.

"I know zat 'ou saw me," she whispered, her voice outlined in trepidation.

Hermione's entire body froze, and she felt herself unconsciously pulling away from the French witch. An irrational fear swept through her and she could just envision those magenta eyes; she was sure her breathing was erratic and that her face reflected that night. She could feel the sweat building up and the quivering chin and she prayed to Merlin that Fleur would just let her go. Let her go and not chase her; a part of her was raging inwardly with herself because that rational part knew that Fleur would never hurt her.

Fleur could never hurt her, and Hermione trusted her with her life. But her body wasn't listening to her mind; it was preparing the flight of the flight or fight mentality, and it had by now attempted to wrench away from the now clearly desperate French woman, whose eyes were burning and pleading and just so confusing. Because it seemed like Fleur cared more than she should and it frightened Hermione to the point of tears. And it must be tears, because she notices a flash of heartbreak in those eyes and could feel the rough tugging of Fleur's hands.

Fleur is at the point right now where she looks furious; her hands tighten exponentially on Hermione's arms and tug her harshly against the French woman's body. She has a hold on her so tight that Hermione can't even think straight at this point. The blonde is muttering tidbits of French, and Hermione concludes that it must me soothing words because those lean hands are no longer harsh and she could feel her body relaxing without her consent. She could no longer feel the flight in her because Fleur is gazing at her with reassurance and not that previous fury.

Fleur seems to sigh in relief, because that odd moment of panic and misunderstanding seemed to be over. And though Hermione doesn't show it, she gives woman the benefit of the doubt. She gazes at Fleur speculatively through watery eyes, wondering what the blonde wanted to say. Fleur takes a deep breath and seems to attempt to convey her point.

" 'Ou must know zat I would never 'urt you, 'Ermione," She breathed, looking at her with pure honestly and grasping her softly. " 'Ou are my friend."

Hermione releases a breath and swallows, attempting to nod at the now composed blonde. She had honestly never seen Fleur this open before; the only other time had been the Black Lake with Gabrielle. And this was amazingly all of hers, which made her feel somewhat selfish that she had unconsciously provoked this in Fleur and actually reveled in it. She knew that Fleur considered her a friend, but she had no idea that the level of friendship had been this deep for the older Delacour. She surely must have dozens of friends in Beauxbaton and France. Surely the brunette was one amongst many.

But that's when she realized that her assumption was completely wrong. She couldn't believe how oblivious she had been. She had seen Fleur giggle with a few Beauxbaton classmates before, and she had seen her with that one brunette studying in the library once or twice. But sometimes when Hermione had been with Gabrielle and having fun with the girl, the older Delacour would be on her own - more often and not - or looking at the two wistfully. And she remembered asking about Fleur's friends in France and the blonde had only mentioned one dear friend in France.

Hermione wanted to pick the quill up off of the floor - because apparently it had taken a fall - and write 'prat' across the top of her head. Fleur did consider her a dear friend, despite the lack of time they had known each other. Fleur held her in suprisingly high regard and went out of her way for the brunette and Hermione hadn't even noticed.

"I-I know you wouldn't have," she murmured, looking up at Fleur in earnest.

She could see the relief bloom in Fleur's eyes and the blonde gave her a soft quirk of her rosy lips. Hermione could feel herself reaching up and grasping Fleur's arms gently; she squeezed and felt the lean, sinewy muscles dance under her touch. She unconsciously traced her fingers over her elbow, and noticed the French woman's long eyelashes fluttering gently.

But Fleur must have come to her complete senses, because she let go of Hermione's arms softly; the blonde took deep, even breaths as she straightened her shoulders and took a fair step backwards. The older Delacour really must have been desperate, because it seemed as if she were currently reaffirming her dignity. Hermione felt her heart skip once more at the thought of being one of the only few who had ever seen Fleur like this. And now she felt as if it should be her to do the comforting this time around. She took a step forward and took Fleur's hand.

"Thank you, Fleur," Hermione whispered. "You're a good friend and I know that you would never put me in harm's way. I was just being silly."

Fleur's eyes softened even more so. "Non, 'ou were 'ust being logical. I zink zats how everyone would react if zey 'ad seen w'at 'ou had."

Hermione shook her head fiercely and released the woman's hand. She bit her lip and looked at her with nothing but apology and self-loathing; she was the voice of reason, and she was the one who was taught never to judge and never to assume anything. Hell, she had learned that being who she was and being friends with Harry Potter.

"But I'm not everyone else," she bit out, furious with herself. "I feel so hypocritical for saying never to judge and I immediately go and I hurt you by doing just that."

Fleur stepped closer and looked at her with fondness ringing in her eyes. She leant forward and chastely kissed both of Hermione's cheeks, backing up away slowly and gesturing towards the door. Hermione just blinked for a minute before nodding her head in understanding, slightly disappointed in Fleur's departure. She attempted a weak grin when Fleur opened the door, immediately stepping in its frame and turning back to partly face the brunette. The blonde looked commanding.

" 'Ou are most definitely not anyone else, 'Ermione," she said, her tone holding authority. "I ezpect 'ou at ze Ravenclaw table tomorrow night. Gabrielle and I miss 'ou."

And without any warning she turned and walked out the door, shutting it softly.

And Hermione didn't know how long she stood there blinking, but she reckoned it was quite awhile. The owls were trilling once more and she hadn't even noticed when the candles had been lit. And a confused smile tugged at her lips, because she hadn't seen Gabrielle in only a day and Fleur in a few, but the woman had blatantly stated that they missed her. It left her feeling more than a little foolish when she began grinning happily, more than happy that a weight had been gracefully lifted off of her shoulders by Fleur herself.

And she tried to push away the self-resentment and curiosity when she realized that Fleur had spared her every single detail about why she had turned. She refused to frown, because now was not the time to go on ruining all of the peace just because of her insatiable curiosity again. She absolutely refused to this time. It was the French woman's business and she would tell her -possibly, hopefully - when she was one hundred percent ready.

She sighed and picked off her quill and parchment, once more walking across the to room and sitting at the bench. She placed the parchment onto the table; she did her best to push aside her thoughts on Fleur and everything else and focus solely on Harry. 'Harry,' her mind affirmed. 'It's time for Harry now.'

And taking a deep breath and positioning her quill, she began writing in her elegant script.

'Dear Padfoot'...

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Near the Black Lake: 5:30 PM. The Next Day.

Hermione just shook her head softly, internally amused by her friend's antics.

"Wha'?" Ginny snorted. "You can' actually blame me, now can you?"

The brunette shuffled her books to the side and leaned up against the gigantic Oak tree; there were just the right amount of clouds that day, because they were dutifully blocking a portion of the sun and causing the remains of the golden hues to spread across the almost gaunt surface of the Black Lake. It was a lovely - and quite relaxing - visual.

As soon as class had ended, she had been pleasantly suprised when Ginny dragged her out here. It was beautiful and it made Hermione forget all of her current worries; Ginny had always been the insightful friend out of the group and she was reveling in her appreciation. Somehow Ginny had taken one glance at her - surely - worn face and immediately demanded that Hermione accompany her outside to study and enjoy the weather. Now the older witch was certainly glad that the fiery haired girl wouldn't have accepted 'no' as an answer.

"Actually yes, yes I can," she smiled.

Ginny immaturely stuck her tongue out at Hermione and reclined her head back against the grass. She couldn't help but find the contrast between the sun's golden light and Ginny's fiery red hair absolutely gorgeous. It was also the surroundings; the mid-Spring grass was almost an emerald at this point, and the leaves of the trees were the same matching colour. Ginny's red hair, the stunning surroundings, and the warm weather made Hermione shut her eyes for the briefest of seconds and just allow herself to feel; to not think.

Her eyes snapped open when Ginny yelled, "Oi! Neville!"

She looked over towards the uphill and could see the gangly boy in question; he was clutching parchment delicately in his hands as if his life depended upon it. He had previously been furrowing his brow and mumbling incoherent information under his breath, but his head had snapped up as soon as he heard the familiar voice and his name.

Neville certainly had developed and grown since they had first come to Hogwarts. All of his baby fat was gone and he - like Ron - had sprouted a fair few inches. He seemed to realize that his Gran wasn't the best judge of character when it came to haircuts, because it was now considerably - but somehow charmingly - shaggy. He admittedly didn't have the aristocratic handsomeness or Draco Malfoy - which Hermione would never, ever admit to, the prick - or the boyish charms of Cedric, Harry, or Ron, but he was charming in his own little way. And it made Hermione feel guilty that she honestly hadn't interacted with Neville since before the Second Task; she normally helped him with his lessons and he ecstatically told her stories of Herbology and exotic plans that she had never heard of. Admittedly, it was more for the boy's own excitement rather her own.

His grip on his parchment tightened, but one of his hands came up into a shy wave.

Ginny looked towards Hermione with a raised eyebrow, and the brunette just shrugged her shoulders. The fiery girl grinned and emphatically gestured the now confused looking Neville over to where their spot was; Hermione plastered a soft smile on her face and made sure to contribute her own light-hearted gesturing. Neville grinned slightly and made his way over to the two girls; his Hogwart's robes were off and he was wearing his Gryffindor tie hanging loosely, much like the two girls.

"Er...hey, guys," he mumbled, settling down a few feet away from them. "How's your day goin'?"

Ginny grinned. "Excellent. Astoria Greengrass, who's a Slytherin, knocked over some'a tha' healin' potion on Snape's shoes. Bleeding potion boiled through."

The red-head burst into raucious laughter, keeling over onto her open books and promptly struggling to right herself during her hysteria. Hermione almost made a sound of disapproval, but Ginny looked so delighted at this mishap that she simply couldn't ruin the girl's good mood by her seriousness. And Neville looked simply horrifed for the briefest moment before his head turned away; his thin lips were struggling not to quirk up into a smile, and that's when Hermione released an amused smile of her own. Neville clearly still detested Professor Snape - which it was probably reciprocated - and was still simultaneously terrified of him. Ginny was still laughing happily, her face as red as her hair now.

But then Ginny's smile faded. "That tart didn' even get a single point taken off."

Neville frowned softly and shook his head. "And to think I got points taken off for simply showing up to tha' class."

Ginny looked dumb-struck; the female Weasley looked torn between sympathizing and bursting out into inappropriate laughter. Luckily, Hermione saved her the indecision. An abrupt chortle of amusement left her mouth before she could truly stop it, and she slapped her hands up against her mouth ungracefully. She shot Neville an apologetic look when his head snapped toward her.

But to her great suprise, he grinned. He fiddled with the parchment in his hand before beginning to laugh softly himself. "It's alright. Snape hates me."

Hermione slammed her eyes shut and she felt like like a cruel tart when more laughter escaped her lips. But luckily the boy didn't seemed the least offended by it; he was actually grinning himself and shaking his head wistfully. Ginny finally seemed to realize that no offense was taken because she began guffawing, her lightly freckled hands coming up and clutching the both of her cheeks happily. And after it finally slowed down, she tilted her hand at the bit of parchment clutched in the boy's suprisingly small digits.

"So whatcha got there, Nev?"

He just shrugged his head nonchalantly and tucked it under his knee; he seemed to flush a little bit and Hermione nearly groaned when the youngest Weasley got that scary grin on her features. It looked so similiar to Fred and George's that Hermione almost wanted to dart away.

"Is it'a love letter? Hmmmm?" Ginny over-exaggeratedly fluttered her eyelashes. "Tell Auntie Gin all about it, love."

Neville seemed to blush all the way down to the beginning of his collarbone and back. He shook his head frantically and retrieved the parchment from under his knee; even his panic over Ginny's teasing hadn't affected its value, because he delicately and diligently unfolded the inticate folding of the parchment. He looked over it briefly before putting it down onto Hermione's Transfiguration book, seeing as how she was the closest to him. The fiery redhead went to snatch it but Hermione grabbed it before the girl could get her hands on it.

She looked over at Neville, who looked grateful, and nodded his permission. She took a soft breath and looked down at it. There, covering a third of the top half of the parchment, was a flower. But it didn't seem to be just any flower, because this flower had a design that she had seen before; it was beautifully sketched and every single petal had the absolute perfect precision and imagination. Soft little buds had actually stemmed from each of the large petals. And the center was surrounded by many curved little pearls; it was so beautiful that Hermione could barely tear apart her gaze.

She could vaguely see chicken scratch below the flower; it looked like a possible definition or assumed details. And there was even a line drawn from the very center onto the outer parts of the parchment. And she squinted her eyes at the lackluster script, but she thought she could make out the words 'fairy dust.'

She blinked for an entire minute, pointedly ignoring Ginny's whining. "What is this, Neville?"

Neville's eyes brightened almost breathlessly, and he got an excited grin on his face. Hermione half-heartedly handed the picture over to Ginny when the girl made another attempt to reach for it. The brunette just peered at the boy and she knew that it obviously had something to do with Herbology.

"That," he enunciated, " -Is the Lotus Flower."

Hermione frowned and racked her intelligence and memory for anything pertaining to this beautiful flower. And she was quite frustrated when she came up with absolutely nothing. She breathed a little sigh of relief when she realized she wasn't the only one, because Ginny handed it back to Neville while looking at the boy as if he were a three-headed dog.

"I'm'a - well, sorry, Nev," Ginny frowned. "But what the bloody hell is a Lotus Flower?"

He grinned. "A Lotus Flower has been around for many centuries, or so the Herbologists experts explain. It is defined as 'the love flower'."

Both Hermione and Ginny's brows quirked up at the definition of the beautiful flower, and the brunette notices Ginny's smirk growing wider by every second that passes by. Poor Neville looked like he was going to be teased quite obnoxiously by the youngest Weasley; it seems like he knew it too, because he instantly paled and began stumbling over his words. Hermione just looked at him with reassurance, and she turned and shot Ginny a warning look; this cause the younger girl to pout and cross her arms, sticking her tongue out at Hermione once more.

"Isn't that a bit like Amortentia?" At Neville's confused look, she explained the potion and how it normally worked.

But she was quite suprised when Neville grinned and shook his head. "With Amortentia, you can love anybody. This flower makes you realize you love someone."

Hermione unconsciously frowned; for some odd reason, she felt challenge rise up through her body and she tried to instantly quell it. Because she didn't want to challenge the boy's obvious research that he put into the flower. Maybe if it were another subject, but this was Herbology, and this was Neville's field of expertise; so she quickly scourged the doubt and questions that had built up and she found herself nodding her head and smiling reassuringly at the boy. He seemed to find this inspiring, because he suprisingly stood to his feet again and smiled excitedly, grasping the parchment in his head and peering down at it.

"Well, I hope you have luck finding it, Nev," nodded Ginny.

"Thanks, Gin. And see you around, Hermione." And with that, he waved at them gently as he began to make his way back up the hill and towards Hogwarts.

He seemed to occassionally peer off to the sides and double check the parchment when he came upon a flower, and this made Ginny and Hermione giggle heartedly as they rested back down against the grass. She just peered up into the sky and listened freely as Ginny began to hum a familiar Weird Sister's song. But she was suprised when the melody momentarily stopped and the red-head leaned up on her elbows and peered down at her curiously. Hermione felt her own eyes connect to Ginny's embarrassed ones.

"Do you think that Lotus Flower is real?" Her voice sounded suprisingly timid.

Hermione's brow quirked at the red-head's question and she almost wanted to point out that the girl had been the one teasing Neville about it earlier. But then she remembered that this was Ginny; she was exceptionally strong and had almost unfathomable will-power, but the girl was exactly that; a girl. She might try and hide it with jokes and laughter, but the girl believed in love perhaps more than anyone. And she peered her gentle brown eyes up at Ginny's diverted hazels.

"I honestly couldn't tell you," she murmured. "But I do know that they will realize they love you when the time is right; you have to be patient and just be yourself. You don't need a stupid flower."

Ginny's shy smile could have cured Snape from his uneccessary harshness; it was blinding and hopeful simultaneously. And the brunette couldn't help but laugh as the girl grinned excitedly and peered over at the Black Lake, occassionally twirling the grass between two freckled fingers. But she as honestly suprised when the girl turned her gaze back upon her; there seemed to be an odd...knowing in the girl's eyes before it disappeared. She was suprised when the girl stood to her feet and wiped all of the grass off of herself, gently grabbing her stuff and giving Hermione a soft smile.

"Maybe you're the one that needs the Lotus Flower, Granger," she winked.

Hermione felt herself going completely jaw-slacked as the redheaded girl sashayed back up onto the Hogwart's grounds, her head held high.

The next time she saw Ginny she was going to give the girl a real stern talking to. Because she was Hermione Granger; she wasn't in love and she certainly didn't need some stupid flower to make her life even more complicated than it already was. Hell, she wasn't even remotely attracted to anyone. She just huffed annoyingly and closed her eyes.

Stupid Ginny and stupid flowers.

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So...whatcha think?

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