A.N: Long awaited chapter! Told you guys updates will not be far off, right? Haha. I hope you guys will like this chapter as much as I did, especially the tension =P Roars. Promotional exams results are going to be released tomorrow. Nervous. Anyway, thanks for all the reviews! Keep them coming!!! To all reviewers: A great big Thank You! Please keep the reviews coming!
Chapter 4- A for Awkward
Trudging downstairs behind the short and plump Molly, Fleur could just guess what the lady would talk to her about.
Bill Weasley.
Fleur usually enjoys lounging in the living room with a magazine, making full use of the time without Bill stalking her around. Thankfully, he was given more shifts in the Order's secretive work (at where; Fleur has no idea), acting as guards (over what; Fleur did not really care much). Manpower was limited (a benefit in itself), seeing that it was around the period of the full moon and Remus was lying down low until after the moon wane.
And the blonde's patience was waning too.
Bill was becoming increasingly annoying in the little time he was able to spend in the Grimmauld Place; he practically followed Fleur around and stuck to her everywhere she went. And what irked her even more, was that Molly Weasley knew and did not do anything about it. It was almost as if she encourages it!
Ah, but she did encouraged it. To a certain someone's obvious displeasure and of course, disgust.
Fleur was right; Molly wanted to have a chat about Fleur's love life.
Molly barely tried to hide how much she want them to get together during her chat with Fleur; well, either she had really wanted to irked the blonde, or she has zero knowledge about the act of subtlety. She kept dropping hints of Bill's infatuation with Fleur, and kept probing Fleur to find out whether she has "a special someone" in her life.
And as though all that nonsense was not enough, Hermione just had to walk in at that moment when Fleur was cornered. Right next to the hand-scrubbed oven stove. Fleur grimaced; it was the worse situation in which the blonde want the brunette to find her in. Fleur was used to being the assertive and dominating one, not the cornered, meek and vulnerable. Imagine her horror when the brunette entered the kitchen at that time.
"Just getting a drink," an almost incoherent mumble came from the brunette, who pretended not to have noticed anything. Fleur kept a straight face, determined not to let any weakness show, or anything that could make her seem like a laughingstock to the younger woman.
Molly looked slightly flustered after being cut mid-sentence by the appearance of the brunette. The disoriented woman brushed her apron awkwardly and wrung her hands, turning her back to Fleur as she faced Hermione. Fleur, with her head cocked slightly to the right, was still pressed up against the oven stove much to her discomfort. She shot a look of annoyance down at Molly's turned back, unable to free herself, for the older woman had effectively trapped her with her…size.
"Hi, dear. Do you want me to make you some coffee or anything?" Fleur scoffed silently as the matron motioned to the teapot. Hermione's eyes darted towards Fleur, but flitted away quickly when Fleur caught her eye.
"Um no…no thanks Mrs Weasley." Hermione left the kitchen rapidly without another glance at either of the women.
Molly glanced sympathetically after Hermione.
"What's with the children nowadays? First they were getting along fine, and the next moment they were at loggerheads…"
Now she wants to match-make her youngest son with Granger?
Fleur rolled her eyes. Subtlety, Molly; subtlety. She was thankful when the matron took a step away from her, and adjusted her position so that she was not pressed painfully against the edge of the oven stove that felt too slick to be clean. More like greasy. Hand-scrubbed. Fleur thought of taking another bath after she shake Molly off; she did not trust the cleanliness of the hand-scrubbed stove. Magic was still her preferred cup of tea.
"Oh, sorry my dear, where was I?"
In the kitchen? Fleur was trying hard not to roll her eyes. "It's all right, Molly-"
"Ah yes! Don't you think Bill always look so tired whenever he's here? He's taking on too much; I have been telling him that countless of times but he never is so much like Arthur; passionate in whatever he does."
Too passionate, I would think. At least; too much for Fleur's liking.
"I'm sure, Molly."
"Yes," the woman replied with a motherly smile. "Oh, and erm…Fleur dear, do you, by any chance, have any idea what went wrong between Ronald and Hermione? They seemed to be rather…" She paused for a moment, then added on wistfully, "…distant these days."
…
Hermione was starting to feel the frustration and anger building up. Everything seemed to be going haywire, and everyone seemed to be against her. Ronald was being the Ultimate Prat. Obviously, he still had not gotten over that bicker with her earlier on.
And Ginny too, learnt to stay away from Hermione after seeing how moody the brunette was during dinner. Leaving Hermione alone in the dimly lit room, with only her books for company.
At least she does not feel awkward around books; unlike how she feel when she was around Fleur. There was something about the Veela that made Hermione…un-Hermione whenever she was near. But she could not pinpoint the reason why.
Like earlier on, in the kitchen. A totally awkward scenario.
Hermione was too deep in thought about the earlier bicker/argument with Fleur when she went downstairs to fetch a drink for herself, that she did not even realize that Fleur and Molly were in the kitchen, talking about…Bill? It was only until she entered did her mind fully register their presence. She contemplated leaving, but the two have already spotted her.
She felt the burning gaze of deep blue orbs on her, as well as the warm, brown ones of Molly Weasley. There was something about Fleur's stare that made Hermione feel…strange. No other word to describe the feeling, just…strange. She chanced a glance, but turned away immediately as the Veela's intense gaze met her own, uncertain one.
Probably just the Veela thrall (Hermione hoped).
She took a small sip of the water thoughtfully as she maneuvered her way back up the stairs; it was cold.
And before she knew it, she collided into something.
"Ah! I'm sorry!"
"Watch where you're going man! Damnit! Now look at what you've done you…oh-" Ronald peeled his wet shirt away from his chest and looked up angrily, only to come to the realization that Hermione was the one he had collided into.
"Um, oh." Ron started rather lamely, unsure of what to say.
Awkward situations; it seemed like a cursed day for the brunette. A pregnant silence filled the staircase landing; Hermione directed her gaze to the notch in the door to the right, anywhere but into the eyes of the Weasley. But before long, the silence got on her nerves.
"This is ridiculous." Mumbling, the girl tried to move past the redhead and continue her way upstairs.
But a tug at her sleeve held her back. Ronald had turned around and his mouth was half-opened, as though he had something to say.
His hand dropped to his side when he saw the brunette's glare. Brown curls whipped around and grazed past his face as Hermione made to continue her uninterrupted way back up to her room.
"Um…wait, Hermione, will you?"
Ron's shaky voice grew stronger as the girl stopped in her tracks.
"I'm sorry for being such a prat."
"I'm glad that you had realized."
He fell silent, unsure of what to say. A few fleeting seconds passed.
"Why are you so concerned about her? You never were."
A sharp intake of breath was heard, and that did not go unnoticed by the redhead. Hermione's grip tightened around the cup.
"Am I? Whatever makes you think that I am concerned about that part-Veela?"
"Your reaction." Hermione was surprised, but angered. But before she could say anything in her own defense, Ronald cut in.
"Don't even try to deny it. I saw you looking at her during mealtimes; and not to mention the fact that you always seem to get very worked up every time she is present."
Back still facing the boy, whose face was well-hidden in the shadows of the landing, the brunette replied in a sharp spat. "Why would I be concern for that unfeeling, snobby French woman? And who gave you the permission to probe into my affairs-" A slip of mouth. But Hermione managed to regain herself and continued. "Mind your own business, Ronald Weasley."
This time round, the girl marched up the stairs without any interruptions, silently berating herself for her bad choice of words. Ronald was very much annoyed with the brunette's mood swings, and slammed his door angrily.
Below, a figure stood in the shadows silently, watching the dismissal of the two.
...
After shaking off a persistent Molly (with quite some difficulty) and promising (rather reluctantly) that she would have a talk with Hermione to find out what went wrong, Fleur strutted out of the dingy kitchen into the...also dingy-lit living room. Turning towards the stairs, Fleur was about to return upstairs. Until…
"Fleur?"
A figure rose from the armchair, initially hidden by its high, cushy back. Fleur's mouth fell open in surprise.
"Harry, bonjour! When did you arrive?!"
"A few moments ago. Tonks dropped me off at the door and headed off; she said she was involved in some shift. Then I realized that you people are…um…busy talking, so I plopped myself here."
"Oh, my apologies. You can go to the kitchen now; I am sure that Molly would be please to see that you have arrived. Meanwhile, please excuse me," Fleur gave him a small smile, and motioned towards the stairs.
"Oh, uh…I wouldn't go up there if I were you. Um…Hermione and Ron were having some quarrel upstairs just a few minutes ago; that was why I did not head upstairs." Harry gave an awkward, lopsided twitch of his mouth, eyes darting surreptitiously towards the stairs.
But Fleur was not any deterred by that. All the better. Perhaps she could have the talk with Hermione right then and get it over and done with.
Marching right up to the bedroom, Fleur rapped smartly on the door. A muffled "come in" was heard. Fleur thought she caught some indistinct sniffles along with the words too, but still went in without any hesitation.
The figure on the bed tilted her head towards the newcomer, and her teary eyes widened in disbelief. "Since when did you start knocking before you enter?" Hiccough. "Didn't you say it was your room too?"
Fleur smirked slightly, but tried hard to hide it and to keep a straight face. "Since when have you become so concern for me that you stand up for me to that Ronald Weasley?"
Brown orbs widened further, and the brunette quickly threw her head down. "Don't be so full of yourself." Even with the harsh retort, Hermione could not keep the firmness in her tone, and neither could she stop the redness from coming on to her cheeks. Fleur, with her well-trained eyes, of course did not fail to notice the blush.
Truth be told, Fleur found it cute that Hermione could get embarrassed so easily. Wait a minute, now where had that come from? The blonde shoved the thought to the back of her head, frowning.
"I only came up to see how you were. Harry said that you were quarrelling with that...boy," Fleur spat out the word, "…a moment ago."
Hermione was slightly taken aback by Fleur's disgust in her tone when she referred to Ron, but she was not very much surprised. She knew all along that Fleur never really liked Ronald because of his intrusive acts, and she knew that Fleur never really felt comfortable around him. She probably felt like how I am feeling right now. But she could not help feeling vulnerable being in the same room with the part-Veela. She did not need the Frenchwoman to know that she was doing all these because of genuine concern. She would no doubt have a good laugh about it if she find out-
"Wait a minute, did you say 'Harry'?"
"Oui, I believe I did a minute ago. He has arrived."
"Ah! Why didn't he came up?" For a moment, Hermione forgot that Fleur was still in the room, until she answered.
"Because you were busy shouting at Ronald."
Hermione nodded absent-mindedly and then realized what she was doing and scowled. Before she could say anything, Fleur (knowing only too well that the brunette was about to make some harsh remark) cut in.
"Are you all right?
"I'm fine; why don't you mind your own business?"
"You can mind my business but I can't mind yours? That is, how do you British say… not fair, oui?" Fleur took the other's silence as acknowledgement, and continued in that smooth, calming melody of hers that Hermione so hate. "I will not lie. I am here because Molly wants me to talk to you and find out what had gone wrong between you and…that boy."
"You don't like him."
"Oui; Of course I don't."
"You already know why we quarreled."
Fleur pursed her lips with subtle sexiness and Hermione, try as she did, could not pull her eyes away from the lips of Fleur Delacour. Of course she knew. But for what reason(s)?
Curses.
The blonde slid closer to the bed, and the brunette's breath caught in her throat-
- the same moment the bed was depressed from the weight of the slim, slender body that was Fleur.
It looked like Fleur Delacour was really serious about that talk. But deep inside Hermione, she secretly wished that the topic of conversation was not about her and that boy.
And Fleur Delacour? Maybe she was not as snobbish, unfeeling and insensitive a person as the brunette had thought. A quick glance up; Fleur smirked.
All right. Maybe not.
**
A few days passed after the little argument and The Talk in the room. It seemed to Fleur that the bookworm really did know one or two things about romance; Hermione was a much more intuitive and observant girl (um…or woman) than what the blonde had given her credit for.
In the past few days that had came and trickled away, everything was just like how they were before the two started to be more bothered with the other. Or perhaps, it would be more accurate to say before their paths crossed. It was not like Fleur really did bothered herself about Hermione though; Hermione was the one who was taking the lead in their little game.
Or could it even be considered a game?
Well, whatever it was, Fleur was…well, Fleur. She could not care less; Fleur Delacour was never one who makes the first move. She had never needed to, not in her entire life. The ball would always come to her naturally; she never had to go for it, and she never did. Why should she? There were much better things to do…
Hermione sighed, and rolled over on her bed. Everything was so confusing; her mind, her thoughts, her actions...everything about her. Enigmatic Fleur Delacour. She so obviously disliked Ronald, and she did not deny that. But why did she encourage Hermione to..."get back together with that boy"? It was not as if they were together in the first place. Thank goodness no. Hermione liked Ronald, yes; but only as a brother, just like how she had regarded Harry.
But for Fleur...who was she to Hermione? They were not too close to be friends, but neither too distant to be mere acquaintances.
Confusing, confusing.