In the silent hall Hermione watched the door leading to the other chamber. Her thumb nail was down to the nub, teeth grinding at it for the better half of an hour. Harry. Of all people, Harry. Her stomach churned at the thought, sick with worry. She knew he couldn't have put forth his name. Harry was talented, though his modesty would never admit it, but there was no way he'd have the ability to cross Dumbledore's age line without acquiring a beard. What's more the sheer shock on his face when the Headmaster called his name…no, Hermione knew Harry couldn't have put his name into the Goblet of Fire. If only she could convince others of her logic, however that mission seemed hopeless. The Hufflepuffs had hurried out of the Great Hall after the feast, wanting to prep a celebration party for Cedric while cursing along with the Slytherins. The Gryffindors left just as quickly, Lee Jorden chattering about an old banner they could use during the party. She lost Ron in the crowd but Hermione was hoping beyond anything to catch Harry coming out of the meeting. Instead she was first greeted with Fleur and her Headmistress, Madame Maxime, speaking in rapid French. Hermione could barely understand a word, but it seemed the Headmistress was lecturing the blonde. Fleur froze when she noticed her at the Gryffindor table. The bushy haired witch forced her eyes to look away. All she wanted was to see Harry – to make sure he was alright. She couldn't be distracted. But, then again, Fleur had been in the room. She could tell her what happened. She heard Fleur excuse herself from her Headmistress. She heard heels click against the stone floor until the Veela stood right next to Hermione.

"We need to zpeak. Pleaze?" Fleur said. Hermione didn't respond. The young witch stood, gesturing Fleur to follow. She led the Veela out of the Great Hall and to the first floor. There were still a few students out of bed, so the fourth year ushered the blonde into an empty classroom, shutting the door to wondering minds. Hermione would just have to catch Harry at the victory party.

"I do not want you wearing zat zing." Hermione's head spun to face Fleur, confused by the sudden admission.

"What?"

"Ze Leprechaun charm. I do not want you wearing it." In an instant their argument came flooding back to her, her jaw dropping at the sudden demand. "Wait, let me zpeak-"

"No! You don't get to speak. You already abandoned me to my own devices! I'm not here to talk about that, I'm here to talk about Harry."

"'Arry?" Fleur growled, seemingly astonished by the sudden change in subject, "'Arry? Zat little boy? I come to you to apologize and- and wish to zpeak of 'Arry?"

"Yes! He's one of my best friends and he's suddenly in this blasted tournament! I haven't seen him since the Goblet chose him-"
"Zen he should not 'ave submit 'iz name."

"He didn't! Fleur, you should have seen the look on his face – he was terrified! He has enough stress he doesn't need to worry about losing his life in this meaningless fool's errand!"

"Fool's errand? It iz a honor to be zelected! 'Ermione, I 'ave waited weeks, 'oping I would be chosen to represent my school – my country! Do you know 'ow proud my muzzer and fazzer will be when I tell zem I am ze Beauxbotan's Champion? Zat I will 'ave ze opportunity to place our family's name in 'istory?"

"That opportunity isn't worth your life, Fleur!" Hermione hissed. All she wanted to do was slap that glazed look from the Veela's deep blue eyes. How could she consider honor and glory over the risk of death? "It means nothing if all you receive for it is a funeral!"

"Zer is no turning back, and zat alzo applies to your friend." Fleur's eyebrow twitched in annoyance as the word left her lips.

"Merlin's beard!" Hermione exclaimed in frustration. "First the charm and now Harry? You're jealous of Harry?" The Veela's eyes widened at the claim, clearly aghast.

"I am not jealous of zat little boy!"

"Clearly! Or we wouldn't be having this conversation!" The Veela puffed out her chest and turned, clearly planning her departure, but Hermione jumped for her, grabbing the young woman's arm. "Wait! Please, I just want to know if Harry's alright. I'm beside myself. He's one of my best friends. Please, Fleur." She could feel the Frenchwoman's magic again. It was thick and palpable and it told her the Veela was not pleased with the request. But any verbal assault Fleur might have considered was held from the fourth year. Instead the blonde clicked her tongue before taking a deep breath.

"He haz to compete. Ze Goblet haz a magical contract zat binds 'im to ze tournament, as it does us all. I am afraid I cannot make it any eazier for 'im eizzer. 'e is my competition and I will win zis tournament."

"I don't care if he wins. I highly doubt Harry cares either. I just want him safe."

"Zafe? 'E will not be zafe. We were not given information for ze first task. It iz zer intention the champions venture blind." Hermione could feel tears welling in her eyes. What sort of administrators thought it wise to send, not only a fourteen year old, but three barely of age witch and wizards into unknown danger? Hagrid had said the first task would be exciting and, she had to admit, at the time it sounded entertaining. But nothing of the tournament seemed entertaining now. Harry had to face some unknown danger that could potentially kill him? Hermione tried to rationalize her fear; tried to find comfort in the fact that Dumbledore would never allow harm to come to his students, that the Ministry had put precautions in place to assure the champions safety, but hadn't they also said that about the World Cup? The tortured screams and blazing fire, that poor muggle family captured and levitating above the tumult – Hermione could still hear that hiss from the Death Eater, that curse playing at his lips – hadn't the Ministry said the same thing involving that security fiasco?

Hermione was snapped from her thoughts as a pair of arms wrapped around her, Fleur's stable hands drawing her into the Frenchwoman's warm body. Her forearms were the only thing separating them, her hands coming to rest on the Veela's shoulders.

"What are you doing?" she choked out, hiccupping slightly through her words. She hadn't realized the tears had begun to fall.

"I am still upset wiz you" Fleur whispered into her hair, causing the fourth year to give a huff of annoyance, "and you are ztill upset wiz me. But zat does not mean I will let you cry wizout comfort. Zat would be cruel." Hermione thought to retort, thought to vehemently deny Fleur the right to care. If she didn't wish to be cruel she would have never placed the curse on Hermione, would have lifted it without becoming emotion over a silly charm, wouldn't have become jealous of Harry for absolutely no reason, but even Hermione could sympathize with the blonde on some of those accounts. Emotions were irrational. Hermione couldn't help the swelling warmth in her chest, nor the heat in her cheeks. She couldn't deny the small glimmer of satisfaction from Fleur's comfort and attention. She couldn't explain why her arms circled the Veela, bringing the blonde closer. Emotions were irrational. Perhaps Fleur's were as well. "I am zorry. I zhould 'ave been…" The blonde seemed to wrestle with the correct words, "zenzitive?"

"Sympathetic?" Hermione offered.

"Oui…zat. I am alzo zorry for ze ozzer night…'owever, we must zpeak of ze Leprechaun charm."

"Oh, will you give it a rest. You're supposed to be comforting me. I don't need a lecture."

"It iz important. Zis iz not only about your…distasteful choice of jewelry." Hermione irritation grew at how Fleur seemed to roll the 'r' of the last word with a vengeance. "Leprechaun magic iz unbalanced, mon ami. Ze are offsprings of good and evil creatures. Ze magic in zat charm iz ze same. Zat zing will only ztay beneficial for zo long and I wanted to warn you."

"Albena said something to the same extent."

"Albena?" Fleur raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Before you drive yourself into another diva fit will you allow me to explain?" Hermione could sense Fleur wanted to argue. Her Veela magic certainly made this fact known. However the blonde, oddly reasonable for the moment, simply took a deep breath, waiting for the fourth year to continue warily. "She's a Veela from Bulgaria I met during the Quidditch World Cup. When the curse began to develop I had to look for answers and it so happened the Bulgarian Quidditch team hired Veela as their mascots. She's the one that gave me the Leprechaun charm. It's been working beautifully since, though I still have the occasional blast-ended skrewt exploding in my face. I still can't get the scent of smoke out of my hair." Hermione shook her head before returning to the topic at hand. "If you really want me to be rid of the thing, I need you to lift the curse." Fleur's arms loosened around her as the blonde stepped away, releasing a deep sigh. "Please Fleur, I am tired of living this way. I'm afraid everyday that something worse than a paper cut or a blast-ended skrewt will happen. The longer I have this curse the worse the accidents become."

"I don't know 'ow" Fleur whispered, and every hopeful feeling escaped from Hermione's soul. A cold, sickening numbness enveloped the girl's mind, dripping down her shoulders and into her stomach.

"You-you don't-"

"'Ermione, I never meant to hurt you" Fleur said, with a new sense of determination. The Frenchwoman took her by the shoulders, keep the fourth year steady when all she wanted was to fall. "I never meant to place zis curse on you – I did not know ze properties of my magic. I do not know ze first zing of Veela's magic. All I know iz zat it originates from our emotions. Mine 'as been present in my life; 'owever it 'as never caused trouble. I will owl my muzzer. She will know what course to take."

"Albena said something of getting in touch with your…gaggle?" Fleur nodded. "She said she was going to speak with the 'elders' in Marseille."

"Oui. My muzzer might already know. Regardless, I will zend my letter. We should zpeak furzzer, butI fear Madame Maxime will zearch for me if I ztay longer. She wishes to begin my training."

"Oh- oh my gosh. Harry! I need to find Harry!" Hermione stepped out of Fleur's reach, rushing to the door. "He might be at the Gryffindor celebration-"

"'Ermione!" The Gryffindor halted at Fleur's voice, turning back to face the blonde. "We will find a zolution. I promise." Hermione's mouth twitched, smile breaking through her worry. The Veela smirked, strolling up to the fifteen year old before placing a small kiss on her cheek. "Goodnight, mon ami," and with that the French champion walked away, heels clicking down the staircase. Hermione stood rooted to the spot, her face heating to abnormal temperatures.

"Oh my gosh, that was so flirty" she whispered to herself, her hand covering her mouth in shock before she ventured up the moving staircase. It seemed every encounter with the blonde Hermione could recall had some element of a…romantic nature. Upon reflection, even their argument the previous night seemed more of a lover's spat than anything. The fourth year had to inhale a stiff breath, nerves getting the better of her. The idea of a…romantic relationship both shocked and confused her. The mere thought made Hermione want to shit herself, so foreign and scandalous to her solitary fifteen year old mind. But with Fleur, she didn't need to think. It just sort of…happened. It wasn't until the Veela did something radical, like kissing her cheek, that the fourth year realized what was occurring. Hermione made her way to the Gryffindor common room, where the party was still in full swing. She couldn't spot Harry and gave up her search when George informed her he retired for the evening. Defeated, the bushy haired witch did the same, hoping to catch her friend in the morning.

She rose early the next day, wishing to surprise Harry with breakfast. She guessed the boy wouldn't be keen on socializing so she rushed down to the Great Hall, grabbing a bundle of toast and returning to the seventh floor. She caught Harry on his way down and, from the expression on his face, she had guessed correctly. They enjoyed their toast by the lake as Harry regaled her with details of the meeting and his argument with Ron. She tried to encourage him to rationalize with the red head, a feat she knew to be difficult, however Harry remained as stubborn.

"Where were you last night?" Harry asked, averting the topic. Hermione huffed in annoyance but allowed the boy the small victory.

"Well I- I was originally waiting for you in the Great Hall. I was worried but Fleur was the first person I saw."

"Did you talk to her?"

"Yes Harry, because that is how adults deal with disagreements. They talk-"

"Hermione" Harry growled.

"Fine" she replied, conveniently leaving out the bit where she and Fleur argued. The term

'lover's spat' once again entered her head but she ignored it. "We talked and Fleur doesn't know how she placed the Trespasser's Curse on me, much less how to remove it. She said she'd owl her mother. And Albena mentioned she'd be in contact with someone. Elders, I think she called them. Hopefully something will come of it. I'm continuing my research; however all I'm certain of is that Veela magic operates on their emotions. Wizarding magic can be channeled in the same fashion but Veela magic seems overly dependent on them."

"It's a start, isn't it?" Harry said reassuringly, grabbing another piece of toast. Hermione merely smiled. It seemed all she could do for him at this point. Once school resumed Harry grew exceedingly introverted and increasingly agitated. Most of the school was against him. She hadn't seen such an organized front against Harry since their second year, when everyone thought him to be Slytherin's heir. What's more the boy still refused to speak with Ron, and vice versa. Hermione was forced to spare time for both. Ron had the same sentiments as Harry, angry and upset he hadn't confided in him. All he ever talked about was how Harry was being a git. Most of their conversations ended with Hermione storming off in frustration. As much as Hermione tried to comfort Harry there was only so many, "ignore them"s she could muster. She wanted to say more, wanted to assure him things would get better and that what others thought didn't matter. But whenever she opened her mouth to voice these pleasantries it just turned into, 'ignore them'. Harry was just so locked in his anxiety she didn't know how to help. A few days passed in this manner: Harry in his silent suffering, Ron in his vocal frustrations and Hermione ready to rip her bushy hair from her head.

"Have you seen Fleur around?" Harry asked her as they left the Great Hall, moving to the dungeons for double potions. It was the first time the boy inquired anything for a few days, giving Hermione hope he was recovering from the social abuse.

"No. I've seen her in the halls but we haven't spoken since the selection. I haven't heard from Albena either. Well, nothing horrific has happened in a while."

"Hermione, the staircases moved us to the same floor Peeves just happened to be flinging the worst dung bombs I have ever smelt. We were covered."

"Oh Merlin, is it sad I don't find that horrific?"

"Yes. We were covered." Hermione winced in guilt.

"Sorry."

The pair finally made it to Snape's classroom only to find the students waiting outside for the Potions Master to show, Gryffindors and Slytherins separated into their groups. Ron stood with Seamus and Dean in the corner while Malfoy seemed to be having a laugh with his Slytherin mates over some odd badges, stating: Support Cedric Diggory – the REAL Hogwarts Champion!

"Like them, Potter?" Malfoy exclaimed, flashing them his own badge. "And this isn't all they do – look!" With a press of his finger the badge changed from the red letters to glowing green, stating: Potter Stinks.

"Oh, very funny" Hermione countered sarcastically as the Slytherins began laughing, "really witty."

"Want on, Granger?" Malfoy said with a cocky grin, offering her one. "I've got loads. But don't touch my hand, now. I've just washed it, you see, don't want a Mudblood sliming it up." Before Hermione could counter her words were lost to shock as Harry withdrew his wand, poising it at Malfoy.

"Harry!" Hermione hissed as Malfoy followed the motion, pointing his own wand at Harry.

"Go on, then, Potter. Moody's not here to look after you now – do it. If you've got the guts-"

Hermione stepped away from the two, their eyes locking for a split second. She turned to Harry, thinking of something to say; anything that would calm him from Malfoy's jabs, but before she could both boys acted.

"Furnunculus!"

"Densaugeo!"

All Hermione saw was a jet of light before she hit the ground. For a moment she was gone, too shocked from the impact to think properly. Then she felt it. Something brushing her bottom lip. The invasion persisted and Hermione's hands shot to her mouth.

"Hermione!" She heard Ron call but ignored him as she pressed her finger against her mouth, feeling the ever growing teeth now brushing her chin. She saw Ron coming, shook her head in desperation, but the boy pried her hands away from her mouth, revealing effects of Malfoy's jinx.

"And what is all this noise about?" Of all teachers. Of all teachers, Hermione would have given anything to not have heard Snape's voice. She clamped her hands firmly over her face once more as Malfoy began to explain, revealing Goyle's damage from Harry's jinx.

"Malfoy got Hermoine!" Ron yelled, "Look!" Once again Hermione tried to wrestle Ron's hands away, but he was too strong. Her teeth were revealed to the whole corridor. Pansy Parkinson released a horrible shriek of laughter. Snape remained passive. His unmoved face was the worst reaction of all.

"I see no difference."

She ran. Hermione barely registered Harry and Ron yelling profanities at Snape, or even the tears streaking down her face. All she could do was run. She took a secret passage, leading to the fifth floor, and collapsed in an uninhabited corridor, sinking to the floor before curling her knees into her chest. Well, she tried. Her teeth were now well past her collar, deflecting her knees. This only increased the witch's frustration. For a brief moment, Hermione would have given anything, even undergoing another sprained ankle, to have avoided that mess; to have avoided living one of her worst fears. She had always been teased for her teeth, always a size to big. She just followed her parent's advice, accepting the trait; however Hermione had always been insecure involving her appearance. Now, with her bushy hair and her ever growing teeth, she might as well be a chipmunk like everyone called her in primary. Go live in some hollow and collect nuts for winter. Why hadn't she listened to Albena, or Fleur for that matter, when they had warned her of the Leprechaun's charm? She would have preferred to suffer another bookshelf falling on her than- than- She choked back a sob, grabbing the necklace roughly. She struggled to remove it but managed to get it past her teeth and threw the charm across the corridor, curling as best she could. Suddenly she heard the clicking of heels.

" Ermione?"

No. Hermione's mind flooded with panic. All she heard was hurried heels against the stone floor. No, no, no- Not Fleur. Anyone but Fleur. A hand touched her shoulder but Hermione turned away. Another sob and a hiccup escaped her as she fought Fleur's hands.

"'Ermione, what-"

"Leff me alone!" Hermione sobbed, mostly at the mispronouncing some of her words. "Leff me alone!" Fleur gasped, having caught a glimpse of Hermione's teeth.

"Wha-what 'as 'appened to you?" All Hermione could do was cry in response. When it was clear she wouldn't get an explanation Fleur wrapped her arms around the fourth year, drawing her to her feet. "Mon dieu. Do not worry, I will get you to ze Hospital Wing" the blonde whispered, removing her muffler and secured it around Hermione's neck. Properly adjusted, the fabric hid her teeth and Hermione allowed herself to be led. She didn't trust herself to move freely at the moment. All she could manage was to cling to Fleur as she guided her to the Hospital Wing, hiding her face best she could. Madame Pomfrey took her in at once. Fleur stated she had to leave momentarily, but promised to return once her business was sorted. And with a kiss atop Hermione's bushy hair, she left.

END CHAPTER

A/N:

I apologize that it took two weeks to get this chapter up. To put it poetically, the universe decided to take a huge dump on my life. But I'm not here to talk about problems, I'm here to write. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I promise more soon.

Have a nice day,

O'Faolain