Authors' Note: Hi! It's me again :) This chapter took a little longer - deciding where to end it and begin the following chapter required a little more thought. In any case I hope you enjoy the latest offering.
Jaely: I think that the hint in this chapter should be sufficient for everyone to realise who the spy was :) Indeed Hermione is not a witch to be trifled with, be assured that Sylvie will not go unscathed.
Tanner12: Thank you for your lovely comments. I personally prefer when both of those men are removed early on - I'm more interested in the logistics of the relationship between Hermione and Fleur than in dealing with the emotional fallout regarding Ron and Bill! Glad you are enjoying the story, thanks for reviewing :)
Ladyfun: Good things come to those who wait . . . lol Glad that you are 'ape-shit jealous' over nothing, that's the best kind of jealous ;) You know when you're jealous over 'nothing' that there is something there :P
Khrat9: Thank you for your kind offer! If I decide that French is needed I will definitely contact you. I think at this stage I will be just sticking to italicising 'french' so that those who speak English won't have to scroll for meaning. It does mean a slight loss in terms of authenticity but I myself hate scrolling for translation - though my french comprehension aint that bad :) Delighted that you enjoy the story! Perhaps you might have some opinions on how I'm portraying the French as a nation? let me know if I'm getting too stereotypical :)
, monkgirl, Incubus, wkgreen, guests: Thank you all for your continued support!
Laughter bubbled up through her chest, slipping out despite her best efforts: never had she felt so light. It had been quite a while since she had been able to truly let go; without the pressure of work or future tasks weighing on her mind Hermione found herself relaxing and letting the worries that had occupied her mind up until this point drift away. Etienne was one of the most interesting characters she had ever met. While steering her round corridors and past various rooms his running commentary on everything from the school to French cuisine, English style and textbooks had entertained her no end. Not once had she been bored by his conversation. Instead she had been surprised at their quick return to the doors of the Great Hall after circumnavigating the whole school . . . apparently.
"There you 'ave it madmoiselle! The whole of Beauxbatons in under an 'our," blue eyes twinkled mischievously, "well almost all."
She laughed as he shrugged nonchalantly. Etiennes' laissez faire attitude suited him, it didn't offend and yet she couldn't help but admire and aspire to be as light-hearted. Whatever brand of potion he's drinking I'll pay anything for a small vial. Crossing her arms Hermione tried her level best to maintain a serious façade. It wasn't as easy as she thought: It was akin to trying to reprimand a particularly cute toddler whose actions, though inappropriate, are hilarious.
"You monsieur are a cad! The whole school?"
"All the important parts I assure you 'Ermione!" he replied, arms outstretched defiantly. It seemed her all-knowing glare had no effect whatsoever on Etienne who shrugged coyly before glancing over her shoulder. "Ah look there is Fleur, ask 'er if you don't believe me, and your fellow 'Ogwarts professors!"
Hermione didn't even think twice about following as he made his way towards the seated group of witches. Poppy waved enthusiastically beside Minerva who waved briefly before finishing whatever conversation she had been having with Fleur. Etienne greeted the witches with kisses on the cheek before reprimanding Fleur for slouching.
"Etienne I do not slouch. Delacours' do not slouch," she replied flatly.
Fleur was, as always, perfectly dressed. Her hair, shining in the natural light of the hall, was draped about her shoulders, loose and tangle-free. Alongside Minerva and Poppy she was every inch the professor but they couldn't match the ease with which she moved, making the most banal of actions graceful. Glaring pointedly at Etienne, Hermione noted, Fleur was a perfect match to his natural good looks . . . his charm however had yet to be bested.
The interaction between the two was quite entertaining to watch. Fleur completely disregarding everything that poured from Etiennes' mouth as he detailed their tour round Beauxbatons. Pointedly disregarding his tale Fleur took to scanning the crowd in the hall while sipping a cup of tea. Ignoring his fellow French professors' expression of exasperation at his dramatic account the young wizard continued to regale Minerva and Poppy, much to their amusement.
"Mercifully I was able to pry Professor 'Ermione from Professor Bovets' tour! For a second I thought she would not come with me!" Etiennes' feigned dismay was perfectly played, hands on hips and eyes wide with shock. "Mais I . . . 'ow do you English say? Turned on my charm yes?"
Turning to Hermione for confirmation Etienne wagged his eyebrows, daring her to refute his claim. She grinned in return; delighted at the effect the Frenchman was having on McGonagall and Pomfrey. Both womens' attention was fixed on the young man, Minerva the more sceptical of the two looked at Hermione out of the corner of her eyes as if to say is he serious?
"Minerva, Poppy I didn't stand a chance when Etienne turned on his charm," she stated, her face as deadpan as she could manage given the circumstances. That being two mature witches looking quite stumped at the drama involved in what would normally be quite a standard tale, as a certain Frenchman gazed expectantly, arm outstretched, at Hermione.
Her dull reply only seemed to egg Etienne on while Fleur, still making a point of studying the passing crowds, smirked at the answer given. Allowing Etienne to dominate discussion with Minerva and Poppy Hermione pulled a seat beside Fleur and collapsed into it gratefully. Despite her shoes being the most comfortable she had to offer . . . bar her slippers . . . Hermiones' feet were tired and aching. A soft chuckle alerted Hermione to Fleurs' amusement.
"Glad I am of some use," she grumbled good-naturedly, " I see you have tea. Not coming down to the Hogwarts Express then?"
Fleurs grin dropped from her face instantly, putting aside the now empty cup of tea she hurried to explain herself.
"Minerva was kind enough to offer and I didn't want to refuse! I apologise 'Ermione!"
Hermione laughed openly, it wasn't often she saw Fleur remotely flustered, before reassuring the witch she was joking. Fixing her gown Hermione chuckled, "Would you like to come down now? The students will be occupied for another hour or so and it is a beautiful day!" folding her arms she smirked at Fleur, "That is if you can stomach more English tea of course?"
Fleurs' hurried apologies dissipated the minute Hermione had begun to laugh. Chagrined at the English woman's obvious needling she eyed her suspiciously before replying, "Of course," laying a hand on Hermiones' arm gently, " only if it suits you 'Ermione?" Time to see 'ow open you are to a little attention cherie.
Fleurs' sudden recovery and intent gaze put her possible host on the back foot. Laughing with Fleur or at Fleur was much easier to deal with, than staring into her eyes that were little more than a foot away! That was another matter altogether! Swallowing Hermione desperately fought for some semblance of calm before nodding, not trusting herself to speak just yet. Fleurs' smile was blinding: impossible to look at and yet impossible to ignore. Hermione registered the squeeze on her forearm distractedly as the Veela stood, shaking her head she noticed Fleur was waiting for her to rise and lead the way. Jumping out of her chair rather awkwardly Hermione drew the attention of the rest of their small group.
"Leaving Hermione?"
Minerva was smiling, a secretive smile that set Hermione on edge whenever she was on the receiving end of it. How did Ron describe that sort of smile? Like there is something coming, something unpleasant?
"Ah yes, I promised Fleur I would show her the Hogwarts Express yesterday," she explained hastily, "I suppose you are going to be down shortly?"
The hopeful lilt at the end of Hermiones' inquiry pulled a wry grin from her Headmistress. Minerva glanced at Fleur before shaking her head slightly.
"I'm afraid I agreed to a short tour of the grounds," gesturing at Etienne and Poppy she appeared rather pleased, "Etienne has been kind enough to offer his services."
"Well Minerva I'm sure this young man would rather accompany the two young ladies to the Hogwarts Express!" Poppys' interjection was cut off by the man in question himself.
"Non, non Madame! I must show you the greenhouses, they 'ave the most wonderful . . . mandrakes there!" pausing briefly he swept a hand carelessly in Fleur and Hermiones' direction, "These two do not need me! I would rather show you the grounds, they are most beautiful this time of year."
Mandrakes? Wonderful? It seemed Minerva was thinking along the same lines as Hermione: her face scrunched in confusion at the Frenchmans' choice of adjective. Poppy, however, was completely distracted.
"Oh hush!" Poppys' rosy cheeks stood out against her pale complexion, "You wouldn't want to show some old bat the way round!"
Hermione choked at Poppys' reference. The matron was acting nothing like an 'old bat', smiling coquettishly at Etienne. 'Old Bat' my backside, she has more fun than me on school breaks.
"Well I for one would love a tour!" exclaimed Minerva, managing to look quite affronted, "Old bat indeed!"
Realising her mistake Poppy rushed to explain her choice of phrase, glasses askew and hands fluttering here and there. A light pull on her elbow redirected Hermiones' attention. Fleur grinned at the scene before jerking her head towards the entrance of the hall. Smiling Hermione rolled her eyes before throwing one last glance back her fellow staff and following Fleur.
As she moved off Hermione didn't notice Etienne grinning slyly nor the twinkle in her Headmistress' eye as she continued to engage Poppy in a heated debate.
The tour of the train didn't take long at all, not that Hermione was anxious to extend the duration of Fleurs' stay aboard the magical engine. It wasn't that the French witch had been hard to please or difficult to engage, it had been quite the opposite. Fleur followed Hermione round the train obediently, asking insightful questions, appreciating the magical input and praising the mode of transport at every opportunity. Once or twice Hermione found herself having to think before answering. Fleurs' gaze distracting enough in normal circumstances, within the confines of the train its influence was magnified significantly. Embarrassed at her stuttered responses Hermione was determined to get a grip before she completely lost the run of herself.
Tea, make some tea Hermione. Sit down, ask her some relevant questions and mention Bill. Make tea, ask sensible questions. Make tea, ask sensible questions. . .
The mantra repeated steadily in her mind as she briskly led Fleur to the common cart. Pulling back the door she held it open for the visitor. Fleur's body passed by rather closely, her hand brushing against Hermiones' on the doorjamb. Hermione held her breath; her body, attuned to the light brush of Fleurs' clothing, felt every movement as she slid past. Licking her lips she rushed to pull out the required cups and teapot to complete the task that would free her.
Fleur sat at a window from where she observed bands of roving students moving in and out of the castle. Their merry laughter brought her back to her own schooldays. The carelessness of youth, shared joy and curiosity with good company were just a few of the memories that assaulted her. That had changed of course with her development; at least half of her school experiences were ones she treasured. The latter years of her education were not as pleasant; her physical maturity due to her Veela blood became increasingly apparent, as she had grown. Jealousy, lust and envy began to taint the life she hadn't treasured, as she should have. The appearance of a mug of tea with a plate of biscuits interrupted her melancholy musings. The English and their biscuits. Fleur smiled at the plate of ginger nut and shortbread offerings, a world away from French pastries and petits fours.
"You seemed lost there for a moment," Hermione noted, blowing gently on her own cup of tea.
Fleur nodded absentmindedly, distracted by the soft puffs of air disturbing the surface of Hermiones' tea. Running her tongue over her teeth Fleur played with the handle of her own cup, deciding how honest she should be.
"Oui, I was remembering my own time at Beauxbatons," she replied, her smile dimmed slightly at another laugh that echoed outside.
Hermione tilted her head, squinting at the part Veela who was lucky enough not to be sitting directly in the path of the bright sun. Clutching her cup in one hand she waved lazily, freeing the drape closest to her from its tether. Comfortable in the shade she sat back holding her cup securely on her crossed legs.
"Why do you seem to be less enthused by those memories than I would expect?"
Fleur sighed; Hermione was never going to let a comment like that slide without investigation. The witch in question was more distracted than the French woman could have known: Hermiones' focus was trained on the lip caught behind Fleurs' teeth.
"I suppose my 'eritage started to impact my school life sooner than anyone expected?" Shrugging vaguely, Fleur turned her gaze on the students outside the train. A whimsical smile made her seem years younger, her eyes vibrant in the sun. "I began to navigate those waters earlier than I thought I would 'ave to."
"You were always surrounded by girls though?" realising her question had revealed more than she had intended Hermione rushed to qualify her previous statement, "Well during your time at Hogwarts anyway! You Beauxbaton girls all travelled in quite large groups . . . yours being the biggest . . . I think . . ." Blushing at her inept manner Hermione gazed out the window, tapping a finger against her cup steadily, "I always presumed the Veela thrall affected males more so than females?"
Hermiones' confusion was endearing. Fleur smiled at her companion, if you only knew ma belle.
"You are right. The Veela thrall when used to its full effect reduces men, most men, to nonsensical fools," her distaste was clear, nose crinkled at the memories that flooded her inner mind without permission, "mais even when a Veela curbs 'er thrall women can be affected also. Usually it is more toward the envious and jealous end of the spectrum."
"Usually?"
Oh God! I really don't know when to shut up! Stupid, stupid, stupid!
Fleur grinned openly at Hermiones' expression. It was obvious that the English professor hadn't thought before she spoke aloud. Deciding it was too good an opportunity to miss Fleur examined her company's reaction for any clues.
"There were a few occasions where I was courted by my fellow students," Fleur, to Hermiones' dismay, did not just leave it at that. Eyebrow raised the Frenchwoman expanded upon her previous point, quite bluntly to Hermiones' mind, "In fact they were better than the boys I encountered over the summer."
I do not want to know how they were better, I really don't. Please don't tell me. . .
Somehow her internal monologue must have reached Fleur as she left the topic at that. Mercifully Hermione regained some of her famed composure.
"I apologise for the behaviour of the Hogwarts boys. I can't imagine how that was for you!"
Sipping her tea Fleur thought it was high time she found out if she had any competition. No use going in half blind. If she was going to be successful before the end of the tournament she needed to know what and perhaps whom she would face.
"Come now, cherie, no young man 'as caught your . . . fancy?"
Hermiones' reaction put any theories Fleur had about the possibility of a boyfriend to bed. Not that Bill hadn't been clear on the subject.
"Hah, as if I have time for a relationship! After Ron I moved from the Ministry to Hogwarts and haven't had the chance to even consider it!"
While delighted at the answer Fleur realised she would have to seem a little shocked. Personally she would have been quite happy to leave it at that, still appearances had to be maintained . . . for now.
"No! Not even on 'olidays? In the 'ighlands or by the sea?" Fleur questioned innocently.
"Been talking to my headmistress have we?"
Hermione looked knowingly in her companions' direction. God knows what those two women have been blathering about!
Disregarding the tone with which she was asked Fleur smiled secretively into her cup of tea, not offering any answer. Hermione rolled her eyes playfully, putting her cup down so that she could count off on one hand the number of dates she had enjoyed since Ron.
"Five?"
The part Veela's surprise rankled Hermione.
"Yes Fleur, some of us only go on a date once in a blue moon! Think about it! It's not like I have the cream of the crop at Hogwarts? Flitwick? Slughorn?"
It was as if the Frenchwoman was immune to Hermiones' displeasure: she thought nothing of continuing to question her after most would have backed off. Peering over the rim of her cup Fleur searched the recesses of her mind for the phrase she was looking for.
"Ah 'ow does the saying go? Where there is a will there is a way no?"
Hermione shrugged at Fleurs' valid point. It was true. If she had been more willing there were plenty of young wizards her age, and more not so suitable candidates, to choose from. After the war and her break-up it seemed like the entire wizarding world was waiting for her to settle down and bring the whole epic tale to a grand conclusion. I'll be damned before I go out with people who are only interested in my connection to Harry!
"You know what it's like? To know that the reams of letters you receive declaring undying love and devotion all are spawned from some kind of hero worship?"
Hermiones' frustration was evident in her tone. Fleur noted the stiff expression and folded arms of her companion. Imitating the younger womans' pose she decided to play with fire.
"Indeed I do mon amie, more than most."
Hermione realised how silly she was being. Of course Fleur would understand being appreciated for one thing and one thing only. Scratching at her head she apologised as best she could for her ignorance.
"Please 'ermione! I understand, but remember that you are not the only one who 'as 'ad to deal with this."
Surprisingly Hermione believed her. Fleur had been nothing but earnest since she had arrived. This old distrust she held regarding Fleur would have to be set aside. The woman did risk her own life to complete tasks for the Order and look after me! Hermione groaned inwardly at the thought. It was simply unforgivable: her delay in thanking Fleur properly. Well no time like the present I suppose. Gathering her courage she pushed her cup aside, resting her folded hands in its place.
"Fleur I want to take this opportunity to thank you for everything you did for me at Shell Cottage," seeing the witch was going to interrupt Hermione held up her hand passively, "Please, let me finish?"
Fleur nodded, biting her tongue. It was hard to watch Hermione relive the memories of that dreadful time. When they had shown up at the cottage Fleur was almost overcome at the sight of the younger woman unconscious in her companions arms. Bill had seen it right away of course.
"After getting away from . . . Malfoy Manor," Hermione shuddered at the name, "I was in a bad way," forcing herself to look Fleur in the eyes she continued, "I know it was you who looked after me. I know what you saw. If you hadn't been there I don't know what we would have done. I don't know what I would have done or if I would be here."
Blinking back the tears that were stubbornly welling, Hermione turned and looked out the window snatching at whatever control she could muster. Blue skies and wild meadows calmed her somewhat, enough for her to be able to face Fleur once more. Tearing her eyes from the landscape she realised the French witch was gripping the table, tight enough to cause her knuckles to blanch at the strain. Whatever courage she had left was used to reach over and grasp Fleurs' hand.
"You saved me. I have never properly thanked you for that. Thank you."
Cursing her unsteady voice Hermione could only grip the hand in her own, chewing her lip allowed her some control over the tears that threatened to spill. Fleur squeezed Hermiones' hand with her own. Swallowing back her despair at what Hermione had been through, she forced herself to remain calm. Silently she turned the hand in hers over and peeled the covering jumper back to reveal the bare forearm beneath. Murmuring softly she pierced through the charms hiding what she knew to be there.
"You should not 'ide this," Fleurs finger traced the scarred word, "It is a . . . testament to what you survived."
Hermione watched, dumb as soft fingers traced Bellatrix's parting gift. Nobody had ever dared to remove the charms she placed there, not even Harry. Still this was the last thing she had expected. Wrenching her eyes from the white scar emblazoned on her arm she caught Fleurs' gaze.
"I hide it so that it doesn't distract my students."
Fleur accepted the excuse. Knowing that wasn't the case she refrained from arguing. Now is not the time, it is too soon. Instead she reached for Hermiones' jumper, pulled it down once more and released the hand she had held captive.
Hermione sat back once more scrambling for something to say, perturbed at what she had just revealed. If she was honest with herself the nervousness she felt had more to do with the comfort she had taken from Fleurs' presence and support than the information she had shared.
The Frenchwomans' silence at her answer was significant; she knew Hermione was lying, how . . . Hermione wasn't sure. Thankfully her roving eyes caught sight of a vibrant red book cover that had been tossed carelessly by a student on a free chair. A random act that now provided the very inspiration Hermione needed.
"Bill!" at the mention of her former partner Fleurs' eyes widened, "He wanted me to pass on his congratulations? You told him about your new position and he was talking to me before we left for France. Wanted me to say hi?"
Hermiones' rambling would have been amusing if it wasn't quite so frantic. Aware that the previous topic of conversation was the root of that fraught change of subject Fleur decided to go with it and not make Hermione any more uncomfortable that she was.
"Ah Bill! Oui, I write to 'im sometimes. Is 'e well? 'Ow are the Weasleys?"
Grateful to have been given an out Hermione talked solidly about Bill, Ron, Ginny and the remaining Weasleys for at least ten minutes. Fleur sat back and listened to tales of domestic bliss in the Potter household, family plans of Ron and the latest recipes that Molly Weasley had been trying out on the entire clan. As she spoke Hermione appreciated the chance to find some balance. It all was second nature to her: detailing the lives of her friends as if they were characters in a novel. Her captive audience was more interested in the narrator than the tale but it made no difference to the pair. Now they were in safer territory, ground that was stable and unlikely to fall away from under them.
Before she knew it Hermione was saying goodbye to Fleur and returning to her rooms. They had missed dinner but, according to Fleur, that wouldn't be noticed. Pah with these visitors there will be more people in the 'all than usual! There will be more missing than us I am sure! Hermione snorted at the thought of anyone not detecting Fleurs' absence. The idea seemed rather ridiculous to her.
Clearing away the used plates into the kitchen Hermione idly wondered about the witch she had just seen off. Fleur was still Fleur: impossibly good looking, charming, intelligent . . . French. There was something different though, she wasn't . . . as haughty? Or maybe it was just because she was more used to Fleur and her manner that she found her warmer this time round?
She did have quite a lot in common with the woman compared to when they were at school. Both witches found magical law with regard to magical creatures fascinating. Hermione explained the aims of S.P.E.W. to Fleur while she detailed the troubled history of the fight for Veela rights. From there they had fallen into talking about their students and trying to instil a sense of fairness and equality, a task they both recognised as a mammoth one. The minute I mention magical creatures I 'ave to be very careful. Many of my pupils are descended from the very creatures we are studying while the rest are either pureblood, muggleborn or in between. Hermione had thought that being from a mixed heritage herself would have given Fleur the edge concerning the subject. An advantage? They think I only care for my students that 'ave a mixed background like me! If anything I 'ave no arm to stand on. Smiling Hermione recalled the subsequent discussion of English idioms: their frustrating variety and scope.
Scanning the empty cart for any more dishes Hermione decided on a whim to check the mini-library the staff had thought to fit to one side of the carriage. Supposedly it contained textbooks that might be useful for research during the tournament. Skimming the titles with a practised eye she plucked a slight book from the shelf. 'Curiosities of Mixed Magical Heritage: Magical Creatures, their Descendants and Magical Anomalies' was embossed on the spine, its cover well worn with use. Flicking through the pages Hermione wandered slowly back to her rooms. Something to occupy myself until the rest return.
Fleur breathed the evening air in. Smiling she moved through the courtyard briskly, ignoring the stares of some of the visiting students who lingered. Her talk with Hermione had been everything and more than she could have wished for! All that remains is to win 'er over. Her lips twisted wryly at the thought, as easy as that. Glancing at the emptying hall she decided against checking in with Etienne, he would fill her in regarding Sylvie and her exploits soon enough. All she wanted to do was retire to her rooms and bask in the memories she had of her successful afternoon. Striding purposefully to her rooms Fleur's plans for Hermione began to take shape.