Author's Note: Amazing an update! I know :) Well I won't even give all the excuses but this is just a short summary. Moving house + new job + holiday = one hell of a delay! Sorry about that folks :) Hopefully I will get into my old routine as soon as possible. Again I hope you enjoy this chapter and thanks for reading!


The week following their arrival was a busy one. Hermione spent most of her free time juggling sorting out the students, their training and study schedules, with her own duties as a representative of Hogwarts. Thankfully the students were acclimating to their new surroundings quite well making it easier on Hermione as the days passed. Fleur had been a steady presence despite the haphazard timetable Hermione seemed to be following. However she managed it Hermione wasn't quite sure. Not that she wasn't grateful; in fact Fleurs' presence was fast becoming one of the few things she could rely on. The part-Veela had been there at the worst times in Hermione's life and seen her through. Where she had first been wary of Fleur, intimidated in the face of her perfection, those insecurities had fled during her short stay at Shell Cottage. Now it was akin to reacquainting herself with an old school friend who had been abroad for several years except for the fact that this time round she felt she was getting to know the woman better than she had ever known her before.

"Strange how we change," Hermione murmured, flicking through a large text on the uses of charms in defensive wards.

Sighing heavily she leaned back, staring at the ornate stone carvings of the Beauxbatons' library ceiling. Its almost as grand as the one at home but then again perhaps that's just my opinion. Hermione would never be surprised by her love of libraries. Books were constant: they always had that smell, felt familiar . . . were always bound by two covers. Libraries borrowed this consistency from their very content. While the library at Hogwarts would always be her favourite, those she encountered elsewhere provided the same comfort. Hence it was no surprise that when not engaged in directing students Hermione could be found among the tall stacks of books, head bowed over whatever texts might be of some use.

Realising that she had been in the library for the better part of five hours Hermione closed the charms book tiredly and stretched out her limbs. Rolling her shoulders she left the table and retraced her steps to the entrance, nodding at the librarian who merely glanced in her direction.

The halls were empty, it was well past the pupils' curfew, making Hermione's steps echo loudly in her own ears. Moonlight bathed the passages in a silver glow, illuminating the smooth stone carvings that seemed to decorate every corner of the French school. Hermione pulled her navy jacket on as she walked; however balmy the days in France were the nights brought a cool respite that chilled her to the bone. Once she hit the fresh air she was glad of the extra layer. Skipping down the steps she crossed the courtyard hurriedly, determined to reach the train as quickly as possible. The warm yellow pinpricks of light grew ever bigger as she neared the Hogwarts Express, warming her every step. Minerva and Poppy must still be up. Hermione was enjoying the chance to spend time with both witches outside school. Usually it was with one or the other, the opportunity to observe the older women interact was a rare one.

Occupied by her thoughts of warmth and tea Hermione had paid no notice to the carriages parked off to one side of the outer walls. Resting in the shade of the looming walls they were hardly discernible, even if someone were to study the walls intently. Instead she grasped the door to the common cart firmly and swung herself inside without any warning.

"It is cool outside tonight! God I could murder a cup of tea," she groaned, throwing her scarf and jacket on a hat stand inside the door, "The library had a decent book on charms . . ."

"Glad to see some things don't change Granger."

Hermione would have recognised that sneering tone anywhere. After six years of looking at him you would think his paleness couldn't shock her anymore but like most things concerning Draco Malfoy it did. Draped in a chair next to Minerva he looked every inch the pureblood aristocrat he was born to be; dark, heavy robes fell about his frame, accentuating his blonde hair and sharp eyes. Eyes that looked her up and down, assessing and, to Hermione's mind, finding everything as he would have expected.

"Professor Granger to you Malfoy," replied Hermione, determined that she would at least appear unfazed by his presence, "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

Deciding that standing in the doorway was far too supplicant a position to maintain Hermione strode past him to the kitchenette to make some tea.

"Making tea dear?" inquired McGonagall, who at Hermione's nod requested a cup for herself.

"Malfoy? Poppy? Can I interest you?"

Hermione almost laughed at Draco's expression at the thought of accepting tea, tea that she was brazenly making the muggle way. Smiling at his scowling face she concluded that this was far too much fun to not continue.

"No? Well then you don't mind if I . . ." she gestured with the cup she had grabbed from the cupboard.

"Well excuse me Hermione! Mr. Malfoy might not be interested but I would certainly love a cup!"

"Of course Poppy."

"Oooh be a dear and make some of that lovely Muggle herbal tea!" Poppy turned to Draco, whispering conspiratorially, "It's my favourite."

Grinning delightedly Hermione busied herself with the tea, ignoring the displeasure on Draco's face. Crossing his legs, Draco brushed his robes as if they were covered in invisible lint. How does he manage to look so pompous all the time? Realising he was not the center of attention nor garnering the 'respect' he deserved Draco glared balefully as Hermione passed out the cups of tea before seating herself in a large wing backed chair opposite his own.

"Professor Granger it can hardly be a surprise to find me here? I am, after all, a Ministry official."

Hermione sipped at her tea before answering. I'll be damned before I let the git get a rise out of me! Draco had finished his schooling the same year as Hermione, one of the few Slytherins who had returned to complete their education. She hadn't seen much of him that year or at the graduation despite his marks being second only to hers. Narcissa and he had been isolated figures at the event, leaving much earlier than the rest of the congregation. After that she had heard he had taken a position in the Ministry . . . something to do with sport or international co-operation or some such nonsense.

"I do remember something being mentioned. What department is it Draco?"

"Glad to see you remember my name Hermione," he sneered, "International Magical Co-Operation."

"Hmmmm," Hermione paused, a biscuit halfway to her mouth, "I thought you wanted to do something with Quidditch?"

Draco pursed his thin lips in irritation.

"Yes," he replied, barely opening his mouth, "The position was filled."

"By Blaise Zabini if I'm not mistaken?"

"You're not," Draco replied through gritted teeth, "Though we all can't get what we want can we? I hear Care and Regulation of Magical Creatures can be a torture. Horrendous mountain of red tape and all that before anything happens."

Hermione bit the inside of her lip, recognising the comment for what it was: a direct hit at her own ministerial career.

Minerva and Poppy watched the exchange in fascination. The two students who, for most their school careers, had been very upfront and open about their dislike of one another were playing a very mature game of cat and mouse. Hidden quips here, a backhanded compliment there. These two people were very different from the nose-breaking girl and hostile boy that had once sparked rows in the corridor every other day.

"Still I am not here to share stories of days spent in the Ministry," Draco continued, facing Minerva and Poppy for the first time since Hermione had arrived, "I was explaining to Headmistress McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey the reason for my visit before you barged in."

"Well pardon me for entering what essentially is my home for the next year without knocking!" spluttered Hermione, glaring at the coy smile that graced Draco's mouth.

"That's quite enough Mr. Malfoy," interrupted Minerva, "You may no longer be a pupil of mine but you will show the respect a member of Hogwarts staff is entitled to."

Minerva's stern expression was enough to stop Hermione in her tracks. Draco simply nodded before carrying on with his explanation.

"Apologies. As you know my department is responsible for any international events that concern Great Britain. As such a representative will be present at all events related to the Triwizard Tournament."

"Much like Bagman during the last competition I presume," added Poppy, sipping her herbal tea.

"Exactly, my role will be to represent the Ministry at the tournament. Since the Goblet of Fire is to be lit next week I decided that I would visit a few days early and make myself known to both the Hogwarts staff and the other competitors."

Hermione hated to admit it but from what she had heard of Draco's work he was considered a very good politician and one who was well able to represent himself and the Ministry at various events. He did very well during the War memorials. Hermione had been amazed at his appointment and subsequent presence at the various events held to commemorate the War. Despite the murmurs and whispers Draco had been at each and every one both at home and abroad. Dressed impeccably and on his best behaviour Draco Malfoy was a hard man to ignore.

"Mr. Malfoy had been inquiring as to the choice of students Hermione before you arrived. Perhaps you might fill him in since you are in charge of their preparation," Minerva's lips twitched, the last fifteen minutes of keeping Draco Malfoy entertained had left her with little patience to spare.

Hermione sat back in her chair, deciding where to begin.

"An equal number of students have been chosen from each of the houses based on the recommendations of the Hogwarts staff. As with the tournament during our fourth year there was an age limit thus our students are from the older year groups," Hermione hesitated, seeing no questions were forthcoming she continued. "The N.E.W.T. students did have to get particular permission seeing as it is an exam year and while we are here I shall be maintaining their studies with extra classes."

"What do you think are our chances?"

Hermione raised her brow at the question. Surely Draco didn't expect her to predict the outcome of the tournament? Looking briefly at Minerva and Poppy she was glad to see she wasn't the only one who was surprised.

"Well I can't really say," Hermione muttered, "I haven't seen much of the other schools candidates. They are quite secretive, especially Durmstrang and . . ."

"Don't worry about Durmstrang," Draco stated calmly.

"Don't worry?"

Looking at the witches Draco smiled slyly "Doesn't do any harm to have old contacts in other ministries."

Hermione was, momentarily, at a loss for words. Poppy was doing her best impression of a fish while Minerva had taken to cleaning her spectacles.

"Mr. Malfoy," Minerva began, replacing her glasses on the bridge of her nose, "I hope you are not inferring what I think you are inferring?"

Draco folded his arms across his chest, Loving every minute of this I bet, basking in the reaction he had garnered.

"Headmistress I am merely relaying what I happened to hear from old friends of mine," Draco replied, far too pleased with himself by half, "Simply put I was told that Durmstrang's pupils are rather weak this year. Not a one that should trouble us."

Hermione snorted audibly.

"That's what people said about Harry."

Poppy nodded fervently, "Mr. Potter was not expected to make a dent in the competition. Ms. Delacour was considered a much tougher prospect."

"Please! Potter had fake-Moody pulling for him!"

Hermione bristled at the slight against her friend.

"I was there for Harry and I can tell you what he had to go through to finish those tasks Malfoy!"

"Granger I'm not insulting Potter but you can't draw a comparison. Not only did he have a dark wizard working the odds in his favour he had you!"

Hermione wasn't sure whether that was meant to be a compliment or not. Draco realising his misstep jumped back in before Hermione could answer.

"Look just forget about what I have heard. What about our candidates?"

"What about them Mr. Malfoy?" queried McGonagall, staring at the former pupil as if daring him to disparage the quality of student Hogwarts produced.

Draco ignored the Headmistress in favour of looking at Hermione who was still reeling from his last comment.

"Well . . . not bad I suppose. There are a few that I would put money on . . . one or two Ravenclaws, three Gryffindors, a Hufflepuff and perhaps two Slytherins," stuttered Hermione, trying to gather her thoughts.

"Two Slytherins?"

Hermione glowered at Draco.

"Oh for goodness sake! Yes! One or two Slytherins," she huffed, annoyed that he still thought her completely biased.

Draco nodded to himself, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"What is it to you what our students are like?"

Poppys' question seemed rather obvious to Hermione before she realised whom it was directed at. Draco had never really had much school spirit. In fact unless it was concerning Slytherin Draco had never been a huge cheerleader for school events. The only time I saw him wearing a badge for Cedric was to annoy Harry!

"As the representative for the Ministry I am interested in how our students are going to perform!" Draco replied as if it were a given.

None of the witches looked convinced but they didn't get a chance to question him further. Draco stood in one swift movement, fixed his robes and thanked them for their hospitality before sweeping from the compartment. As soon as he had appeared he had gone leaving three stunned witches in his wake.

"I don't like this one bit," chattered Poppy, shaking her head warily, "Not one bit."


By breakfast the next morning Hermione still hadn't unravelled the mystery that was Draco Malfoy. Whose presence at the staff table, a few seats from her own, was causing a stir. Chatting, in French, with some of the Beauxbatons' staff he looked every inch the gentleman. Chewing slowly Hermione decided she would have to get to the bottom of his reasons for the interrogation she had suffered last night.

Sipping her strong coffee Hermione caught Fleurs' gaze. The Frenchwoman's head was tilted questioningly. Shaking her head Hermione mouthed 'Later' before smiling at Fleur in what she hoped was a comforting manner. Lifting her head Fleur acknowledged Hermione's response and turned to Etienne who had nudged his companion. Fleurs' ability to read Hermione was slightly disconcerting for the witch in question, still it was nice to know she had a friend.

Pushing her plate and cutlery away from her picking fingers Hermione cleaned her hands on a napkin before rising to get to class. Monday mornings were devoted to N.E.W.T. student revision classes, the only slot Hermione could work out to suit all the pupils. Saying goodbye to Poppy and Minerva Hermione left the hall quickly, mentally running through the topics she would cover this morning. Turning the last corner from her destination Hermione spotted Sylvie waiting at the door to the room.

Hermione hadn't had much contact with the French professor since their visit to this very room but the woman always seemed to bump into Hermione between classes or in the library. Never when Fleur was in her company though, Hermione had noted and decided to ask Fleur about that later.

"Bon matin 'Ermione!" greeted Sylvie, her dark locks curled to perfection off of her shoulders.

Hermione smiled warmly at her French counterpart, replying in a similar vein.

"'Ermione I wanted to ask if you 'ad a chance to visit our gardens? They 'ave some very useful plants that might be worth studying for the tournament."

"Sylvie I hadn't thought to take the students! That's a brilliant idea!"

"I would love to show you them. They are a 'ome from 'ome being a potions professor!"

Chuckling at the joke Hermione nodded and arranged to meet with the witch in an hours time. The two discussed their respective classes until Sylvie had to leave to get to her first morning class.

"Why am I always rushing 'Ermione?" grinned the witch, "What 'ave you done to me?"

"Excuses Professor Bovet! Excuses!" replied Hermione, wagging her finger mockingly.

Rather than laugh and rush off the French witchs' response caught Hermione by surprise. Finding her finger grasped in a soft hand she was dumb at the sarcastic reply she received.

"If only I could figure it out hmm?" whispered Sylvie, before laughing and releasing Hermione's hand.

Hermione didn't move until Sylvie had disappeared from view. Catching herself staring after the Frenchwoman Hermione looked round. Why am I soo muzzy headed? These dizzy attacks are not going away at all! Shaking her head to clear it as much as possible Hermione moved into the classroom that was bursting with tired students.


"I don't like it Etienne," Fleur's opinion was not a new one.

Ever since he had informed her of Sylvie's behaviour after the staff meeting Fleur had watched the potions professor like a veritable hawk.

"I know, I know," he replied, flipping through the first year essays piled on his lap, "She is up to no good, she is messing with Hermione. . . yada yada yah . . . so what are you going to do about it?"

Etienne watched Fleur chew her lip considering his point. What could she do? Sylvie hadn't hurt Hermione. She hadn't enthralled her. She hadn't even touched her. Until Sylvie did something Fleur had nothing but her hunches and that was no good when trying to convince a logical witch like Hermione Granger. Fleur sighed heavily before making her problem clear.

"'Ermione will never believe me unless I can prove it. Sylvie 'asn't been meeting with 'ermione while I am with 'er but I know that she 'as been catching 'er between classes!" groaning loudly Fleur dragged her fingers through her hair. "That one 'as been working on 'ermione. I can smell it on 'er. Every time I meet with 'ermione there is a stronger smell!"

Etienne put aside the essays, realising he wasn't going to get anything done with Fleur in such a state. His friend had been driving him crazy for a week with her paranoia regarding the visiting professor. It was getting ridiculous . . . and a little irritating.

"I still don't see why you don't just tell 'er?" Etienne shrugged at Fleurs' dismissive gesture, "Then at least 'ermione will know and you can start to 'elp me!"

" 'Elp you with what?"

"Finding out 'ow to get that Malfoy man alone!"

Fleur hung her head in despair. This was just what she didn't need. Etienne mooning over Draco Malfoy!

"Etienne forget it! 'e is a pompous ass and that is coming from me, the most pompous ass you 'ave ever met apparently!"

"Forget? Not a chance," Etienne grinned slyly, "I 'aven't even 'ad a fair shot."

Fleur recognised that look. Whatever she said it wasn't going to deter him. Leaning over she flicked his ear sharply making him yelp in surprise.

"What was that for?"

"Come back to reality and 'elp me with my problem!"

Etienne groaned at his friends' persistence.

"Fine!" he replied throwing his arms up, "It's simple Fleur! You 'ave to catch 'er at it!"

"I 'ave been trying that Etienne!" growled Fleur, exasperated at the repetitive advice.

"Then try 'arder! I 'eard Sylvie offering to show 'ermione round the gardens at eleven. Go there and 'ide in the bushes or something!"

The Frenchman made a show of hiding behind his hands and peering over his palms with wide eyes.

"Etienne!" shouted Fleur, "That's in ten minutes. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Please," replied Etienne, sprawling in his chair as if talking to the ceiling, "all you ever do is talk about 'ermione. I 'ave been on 'ermione watch since that meeting last week! I'm tired and can't concentrate! I swear I know more about that witch than you!"

After five minutes of no reply Etienne decided he had better check on his friend. Finding himself alone he nodded at the vacant chair opposite him.

"Perfect Fleur, thank you very much! Typical Veela . . ."

Muttering various obscenities he gathered his things together and decided to see if Mr. Malfoy was free for a personal guided tour of Beauxbatons.


Hermione couldn't figure out whether she had taken a wrong turn or if she was just missing the door she had to take to access the potions garden. Studying both ends of the hall Hermione decided that while Etienne was an entertaining guide she had been far too amused for her own good. Striding round a bend she finally spotted Sylvie waiting outside the door she had been looking forward.

"Sylvie!" Hermione started speaking as soon as she saw the French witch, "I am soo sorry!"

Thankfully Sylvie didn't seem to mind too much, smiling she laughed at the harried witch. Dressed in long robes that clung to her frame under a darker blue cloak Sylvie was stunning.

"'Ermione please, do not worry. I 'ave only been 'ere five minutes!"

"Don't lie! It has to be at least ten! It won't happen again."

Sylvie turned to the door they were both interested in and produced a intricate, iron-wrought key from her robes. The key looked heavy, its ornate handle looped through a hoop that held several similar keys. Noting Hermione's interest Sylvie held the key up for her inspection once the door was unlocked.

"Some areas of Beauxbatons are kept secure because of the danger they pose students. Many of the plants 'ere are only for the use of professors or the nurse," Sylvie explained.

"It is a marvellous key," Hermione praised, before pulling a handful of plastic zip lock bags from her pocket. "I hope you don't mind if I take a few samples for the students to study?"

"Not at all!" Sylvie exclaimed, peering curiously at the zip lock bags, "As long as you are present and keep the samples in a safe location?"

"Of course!"

"Well then, pas du tout mon amie!"

Sylvie held the door open for Hermione to pass through before following herself. The potions garden was a small, enclosed area that held raised beds with distinct rows of plants. Each row was clearly labelled, though all were in French Hermione recognised a few of the plants by sight and others by their Latin names. Scanning the first plot she noted Milkweed and Snarksfoil amongst the closest rows. Keeping her hands to herself she moved between the beds carefully: while not a potions professor Hermione was proficient enough to recognise the dangers inherent in some of the plants on offer.

"You might wish to take some Elanor?" pointed Sylvie, directing Hermione to a bed close to the far wall. "It is a useful 'erb used in many anti-venoms."

"I haven't seen that before!" Hermione enthused, using small clippers to clip a few sprigs of the plant.

Sylvie moved round the bed smiling at the engrossed witch. If she could distract the woman for long enough Hermione wouldn't notice the layered thrall she had begun to build since their meeting in the classroom. It had been a measured process so as not to raise any suspicions. Too quickly and Hermione would have been a robotic, mechanical human obsessed with Sylvie's every thought, word and move. 'Time consuming but worth the wait,' Sylvie thought to herself. Turning as silently as possible she watched her companion move from bed to bed.

"Sylvie have you anything here that might be effective in revealing enchantments?" Hermione questioned, eyes raking the plants for useful specimens.

Making sure to keep her tone and voice level Sylvie steadily increased her aura until it was encompassing a small area round herself.

"There are a few that might be of service," standing still Sylvie gestured to a purple-headed plant a metre or so from where she stood, "Entwhistle is a cousin of heather and foxgloves. It has been known to make visible charms that are placed on objects."

Hermione drifted toward the plant, admiring its purple colour. Sylvie watched as Hermione stopped at the boundary of her thrall. Slowly she edged toward the distracted witch, speaking in the same tone as before.

"While not particularly useful for brewing Entwhistle is one of the few plants that can be found in gramaries as far back as the fourteenth century. It's a favourite of mine."

As she spoke Sylvie's eyes tracked her thrall as it broached Hermione's personal space, until it clung to the other witch's feet. Hermione slowly reached to brush a purple sprig of the plant with her forefinger, entranced by its delicacy. Before it could reach its destination a pale hand held it back.

"Non, 'ermione you mustn't touch the 'ead of the plant without covering your 'ands."

Sylvie knew she was lying through her teeth, still she couldn't allow the foreign witch to touch the plant while her thrall was active on her person. Entwhistle would sharpen her focus and possibly snap her from any of Sylvie's enchantments. Hoping that Hermione was far enough gone to disregard the nonsense she just uttered Sylvie took the hand she had stopped from touching the plant.

"We should use the clippers," she continued pulling Hermione upright as she did so.

"Right. We should use the clippers," parroted Hermione, looking from her own hand in Sylvie's to the luminous green orbs that were trained on her face.

Again she felt a rush of dizziness that left her breathless. Gripping Sylvie's hand Hermione struggled to stand upright on her own two feet. She registered the noise of the clippers and bags hitting the gravel beneath her feet distantly. All she could concentrate on was Sylvie . . . and her eyes . . . that were coming closer.

A door closing jolted Hermione from her daze. Clarity doused Hermione with an awareness of everything from the wind on her face to the sound of birds chirping beyond the walls of the potions garden. Turning her face aside she didn't even reach for her wand before Sylvie was thrown back across the garden, hitting a barrel before landing flat on the gravel.

"You!" shouted Hermione, whipping her wand in front of her. "I thought I was sick! I thought I was coming down with the flu! But it was you all this time!"

Every sentence was punctuated with a stride as Hermione advanced on the shocked siren. Scrambling Sylvie tried to back away as gracefully as possible without looking guilty. The stormy hazel eyes that were trained on her own didn't give her much hope.

"'ermione what do you mean? We were talking and . . ." Sylvie spluttered, reaching for her own wand.

"Talking!" Sylvie heard no words before her ash wand flew from its pocket to Hermione's hand, "You were using a thrall! Did you honestly think that I would be trapped like that?"

The shocked Frenchwoman could only hold her hands up as peacefully as possible, eyes darting round the enclosed garden for some escape. Her options were swiftly removed as she was thrown against a wooden trellis that spanned the granite wall behind her. Eyes wide Sylvie could only look on helplessly as Hermione glared stonily in her direction. Hermione's gaze never wavered as she moved forward and pressed her wand firmly against her captives' sternum. Swallowing nervously Sylvie watched as Hermione, nostrils flared and jaw clenched, tightened her grip on her wand.

"Don't even speak!" Hermione cut off Sylvie before she could open her mouth; "I worked with various magical creatures during my time at the Ministry. Sirens were among those who asked for my help. I cannot believe you would use a trait that they are fighting so hard to be recognised as non-threatening in such a manner!"

Hermione could hardly contain her anger. The minute she had realised what was happening she had lost her temper. Sylvie's face was wincing in pain; gravel had grazed her hands and elbows as she had skidded back from the force of Hermione's wandless spell leaving streaks of blood in its wake. Unfazed Hermione breathed heavily through her nose, struggling to maintain control over her emotions. With a whispered word Sylvie was roughly dragged down until she was eye level with the irate witch.

"Let me make myself clear," Hermione emphasised each word with a jab from her wand. "I do not want to speak with you. See you. Hear you. You will stay far away from my students. You will stay far away from anyone associated with myself. If I hear a whisper of any trouble from you I will report you to the French Ministry of Magic and to Madame Maxime."

Sylvie jerked her head in acquiescence, her once perfect hair now more like a nest.

"The only reason I am not reporting you immediately is because I hope, against all hope that this is an isolated incident. Mark my words I will be checking with Fleur and Etienne. If either of them has had similar or observed similar behaviour I will not hesitated to report you."

"'Ermione I . . ."

"Get out of my sight," Hermione spit from behind gritted teeth, interrupting the stunned witch.

Stepping aside Hermione let the Frenchwoman fall clumsily from the hold she had been in. Glaring at the dishevelled professor Hermione held her ground while Sylvie scampered past. The part-Siren plucked her discarded wand as she ran from the garden, pulling her robes into some semblance of order as she pulled the door behind her.

Hermione holstered her wand slowly. Breathing through her nose and out through her mouth she counted to ten. Gradually her shoulders lost the tension that had held her rigid, her jaw loosened itself and fists unfurled to reveal the imprint her nails had left behind on her palm. Staring at her palm Hermione didn't notice anything until clapping erupted from behind her. Spinning on her heel she pulled her wand out to find herself face to face with a grinning Fleur.

"Bravo! Bravo! 'Ermione that was amazing! Formidable!"

The French witch ignored the shaking wand in her face in favour of sharing her enthusiasm at the display of magic she had just witnessed. If she had had any doubts regarding Hermione's abilities they had been immediately dismissed. The effortless way in which Hermione had handled Sylvie left Fleur breathless and . . . a little hot under the collar.

"How long have you been here?" sputtered Hermione, dropping her wand to her side.

"Ah mon amie! I arrived to see Sylvie thrown five metres across the garden!" cried Fleur in delight, flinging her arm out demonstratively.

Ignoring the obvious shock that Hermione was in Fleur pulled the witch in for a quick hug.

"That was amazing! I didn't even see you move! 'ow did you manage to pull her down like that?… "

Fleur's ream of questions went unanswered as she followed a determined Hermione from the enclosed garden. The stiffness of Hermione's back and gait went unnoticed as the part Veela continued her monologue of praise that was only interrupted when the Frenchwoman was startled by the sudden appearance of angry hazel eyes.

"Fleur!"

"Quoi? . . . I mean what?"

"I know what quoi means! Fleur you were here and you did nothing!" Hermione spit furiously.

Suddenly Fleur noticed Hermione's stance. She was shaking, not very noticeably but shaking nonetheless. The encounter with Sylvie had unnerved her more than Fleur had thought. While she had watched Hermione had seemed the epitome of calm danger, now Fleur could see the upset Sylvie had caused.

"'ermione I arrived and you 'ad thrown Sylvie through the air! I didn't think I should interrupt. Sylvie was only getting what she deserved," mumbled Fleur contritely.

"What she deserved?"

Immediately Fleur knew she had misspoken. Hermione's eyes lit up with understanding before staring at the increasingly uneasy part-Veela.

"You knew!"

"'Ermione I …"

"You knew what Sylvie was doing didn't you!"

Fleur didn't get a chance to respond before Hermione had started to speak again.

"I cannot believe this! Why didn't you tell me? Why did you let me go anywhere with that woman?" Hermione fired off question after question before she deflated completely. "Is that why you have been around so often? Keeping an eye on me?"

Fleur could not keep up with the questions that were being thrown at her from every direction. Just as her mouth opened to answer another was tossed in her face, all the while Hermione was growing more and more distressed.

"Non, non . . . well oui, but I was making sure you were safe! I couldn't accuse Sylvie of anything without proof! I 'ad no proof!"

Hermione gazed sadly at the flustered French professor. So Fleur had been following her round because of Sylvie. Why else? Of course why else? Licking her lips Hermione ignored the stream of words that was pouring from Fleur's mouth. She couldn't move past that fact and as much as she wished she could hold on to it her anger was slowly seeping away to be replaced by sadness and hurt. Realising her control over her emotions was slowly fading Hermione decided she needed to get away and sort through what had just happened. Holding up her hand she stopped the French woman in her tracks.

"Fleur I have just had to deal with almost being enthralled. I can't listen to this right now. I'm going to the Hogwarts Express," Hermione muttered, turning from the stunned witch. "I'll see you around . . . maybe. "

The soft 'maybe' drifted by Fleur as she stood in the doorway to the place of Sylvie's humiliation and her own failure. Staring at the thick, heavy wooden door she wondered where exactly it had all gone spectacularly wrong.