The next week was pretty terrible for Harry. I felt for him, I really did. Nearly everyone thought he had put his own name in the Goblet of Fire, everyone but Hermione and me. It didn't help that it seemed like he and Ron were not on speaking terms, which was very unusual for the best friends. It also didn't help that most of the kids in school were wearing badges showing their support for Cedric and, when pressed, would change to say something mean about Harry.

I tried my best to comfort him, but he was angrier than normal and avoided the Common Room. Instead, he threw himself into quidditch practice with gusto that rivaled that of the former Gryffindor captain, Oliver Wood. The morning of the first match of the year, Gryffindor versus Slythernin, Harry barely said a word over breakfast. Looking more serious and focused than I had ever seen him.

"Malfoy better watch his back." Amelia whispered to me, also noticing my cousin's foul mood. "Harry looks ready to murder someone."

I glanced at the Slytherin table across the Great Hall to see how Malfoy was looking. He appeared to be feeling just as confident and smug as usual. I could actually hear him loudly boasting about how it was sure to be a quick game, a "Potter Stinks" badge pinned to his Quidditch robes.

Prat.

XXXX

The game did end up being a quick one, but not in Slytherin's favor as Malfoy had predicted.

It was a rainy, windy morning, which Ginny said would make it difficult for Harry to find the snitch, something about limited visibility. But that didn't seem to phase my angry cousin. Usually he was one to fall prey to Malfoy's taunting, his short temper usually got the best of him, but not today. He flew around the pitch slowly, looking for the golden snitch and never losing focus. Malfoy tailed him, and even from the stands I could see his sneer and his mouth moving, no doubt spewing hateful comments. But Harry never deigned to respond to Malfoy, keeping his eyes peeled for the snitch.

The game had been going on for five minutes, maybe, when he broke into a swift drive towards the Slytherin goal posts. Malfoy, who had been in the middle of an insult, didn't notice for a few seconds.

Those seconds cost him the game.

"That was the quickest game in history, I bet!" Lee Jordan was announcing over the magical loudspeakers. "Harry Potter has done it again! Gryffindor wins! 160 to a pitiful 10! Oh boy, Malfoy's father is certainly going to hear about this! How embarrassing!"

"Mr. Jordan!" McGonagall's sharp voice cut him off from hurling anymore abuse to Malfoy or the Slytherin team, much to the Gryffindor's dismay.

The Gryffindor team swarmed Harry as soon as they all landed, and I laughed and cheered as I saw the twins completely topple him to the ground. At least he looked happy again, sort of.

"He could have let it last a little longer at least," Ron sulked from somewhere behind me. He still wasn't speaking to Harry. "Been looking forward to this match for months."

"Grow up, Ronald." Ginny bit back to him, effectively shutting him up.

The party in the Common Room that night was the stuff of legends.

Harry seemed to forget about the Tournament for a few hours, with the help of the twins' smuggled in bottles of butterbeer and everyone congratulating him. Tilly and I shared one bottle, and we were both reduced to giggles for the rest of the evening.

Lee Jordan had bewitched a radio to blare Weird Sisters' songs, and everyone was dancing and having a lovely time. Ginny was twirling Amelia around, while Lee did the same with Angelina Johnson. I managed to grab Harry's hand for a brief, comical dance across the Common Room. He had two left feet, but at least he laughed when I dropped him into a low dip in front of the fireplace.

Even Ron seemed to thaw out a little bit, after a few sips from Seamus's contraband bottle of Fire Whiskey.

The girls and I realized it was time to head to bed when the clock finally hit midnight and the twins decided to challenge two seventh year boys, who were much larger than they were, to a wrestling match. The losers would each be forced to drink one full glass of whatever the winners chose. I had seen the twins win this game many times before, and knew they usually had the losers drink Fire Whiskey mixed with a nasty potion of their own creation that would have the losers' noses leaking purple bogies for at least a week.

We followed Ginny up the stairs, all of us giggling loudly, to our room just as George whipped his shirt over his head and yelled at the older boys to "Attack me, if you dare!"

I yelled a variation of those words back to George the next morning at breakfast, who was decidedly less enthusiastic and a little green around the gills. "Shut up, Eliza." he mumbled around a piece of dry toast, before resting his orange head on the table and promptly falling asleep.

XXXX

The high spirits from the win and party that weekend lasted all week. I was still sporting a grin as I walked into Arithmancy that Wednesday afternoon. Malfoy was glaring at me already from his spot at the back of the classroom. There were rumors that he had trashed his dorm room the night after the match. He still looked very angry indeed. He had been absent in Ancient Runes on Monday, so I hadn't had to see him yet this week.

I tried to ignore his glare as I sat down, but felt like daggers were hitting me in the back of the neck as class started.

Luckily, about ten minutes into class, I was granted an amazing distraction from Malfoy's anger when there was a knock at the door to the classroom. Professor Vector paused her lecture and told whoever was at the door to please come in.

I was not expecting the handsome french boy, Maxwell, to come sauntering into the classroom like it was the most natural thing in the world, looking pristine in his Beauxbatons uniform.

"May I help you?" Professor Vector asked him.

"Oui, Madame. I have a note from Headmaster Dumbledore. I am to join this class, I believe." his voice was smooth, with just a hint of a French accent coming through. Not like some of the other Beauxbatons students that I had heard walking the corridors who were barely understandable through their thick accents.

"Oh how lovely!" Professor Vector said, striding forward to grab the parchment from his hands. She quickly scanned its contents and smiled at the boy in front of her. "It seems you are!" She looked around the classroom at her students, before directing Maxwell to the empty seat next to mine, "Here's fine. Let's chat after class about how to get you caught up, alright, Mr.-"

"Laurent." Maxwell purred, as he swiftly took the seat next to mine.

I physically started when he turned to me and gave me that megawatt smile that I had seen the night he came to Hogwarts. "Bonjour!" He said in a friendly way.

"Bonjour." I heard myself whisper back, in a terrible imitation of a french accent.

"Ah, parles-tu Français?" He asked me excitedly.

I had no idea what he said, so I just shook my head and shrugged my shoulders. He chuckled but directed his attention to the front of the class as Professor Vector jumped back into her lecture.

I tried my hardest to pay attention to what she was saying, and wrote down everything that appeared on the magical black board, but I was very distracted by the boy next to me. I glanced at him, trying to be secretive. He was also writing everything down, scribbling quickly in an elegant cursive across his parchment. His dark brows were furrowed and he was biting his bottom lip in concentration. This close I could see how dark and thick his eyelashes were.

It wasn't fair when boys had such nice eyelashes, I couldn't help but think.

When the bell rang at the end of class, his concentration finally broke. He looked over at me with his dimples out, "I have to be honest," he said. "I have no idea what she was talking about."

A barking laugh escaped my throat, which had my cheeks heating immediately. His smile seemed to grow wider, if that was even possible.

"It can be alot at first, but once you get the hang of it, it's really not bad." I said. I was trying to sound reassuring, but his smile had my head feeling slightly fuzzy.

"Mr. Laurent, Ms. Dursely, could you both come to my office for a moment?" Professor Vector's words sounded from the front of the room.

"Oui, Madame," Maxwell said at the same time that I said "Yes Ma'am."

We both quickly gathered our things and stood to walk to her office, which was located through a door on the side of the classroom.

I had been wrong when I had first seen him; he was actually quite tall. Maybe even as tall as Ron. He positively towered over me.

"Think we are in trouble already?" Maxwell asked, his smile turning just slightly mischievous as we walked through the emptying classroom.

I giggled, actually giggled like a school girl at his words, and let him hold the door open for me as I walked into Professor Vector's office.

The professor gestured to the two seats in front of her desk, as she sat in her's on the other side. "Tea?" She asked, conjuring a teapot and a few cups at the same time.

"No, merci." Maxwell said politely.

"Sure, thank you." I said, picking up one of the cups she had just poured some steaming black tea into and nudged in my direction. I usually drank my tea with loads of sugar, but didn't see any in Professor Vector's office. She didn't seem like the type to drink her tea sweet.

The older professor took a large sip of the piping hot tea, and started talking. "I was thinking, Mr. Laurent, that it would greatly benefit you to have one of my students catch you up on what we have learned this year thus far. A tutor, if you will. I considered asking Ms. Granger, who is in your same year, but I worry she may not be the best fit." she said, looking at Maxwell next to me.

"Ms. Dursley, however, would be perfect for the job, if you're up for it." She added, looking at me now. "Perhaps you could devote an hour or two each afternoon to getting our French friend up to speed?"

An hour or two… every day? With a gorgeous french boy? On top of all of my other studies? My head spun slightly.

"This is too much!" Maxwell said. He seemed shocked at what Vector was asking of me. "Surely I can catch myself up. I can't be that far behind?"

"I'm afraid you are, Mr. Laurent. Arithmancy is a difficult subject for anyone to master, and is very rarely learned through self-teaching. I would offer to tutor you myself, but, with the tournament this year, my plate is rather full."

I finally found my voice. "I don't mind!" I said a little too loudly.

Vector and Maxwell both looked at me then. "Are you sure?" Maxwell asked, looking at me with a doubtful look on his face

"Of course, it is no bother."

"Well, that's excellent! And if it ever becomes too much with your other schoolwork, Ms. Dursley, you'll let me know right away, won't you?" Vector asked, as she pulled a stack of parchments towards herself, getting ready to settle in for an afternoon of marking essays.

"Yes ma'am, of course." I said and stood, placing my half-full tea cup on her desk and grabbed my bag off the floor, picking up on the professor's nonverbal dismissal.

Maxwell was still looking rather aghast, brow furrowed and smile tucked away, as we made our way out of the office and through the now deserted classroom.

When we made it into the corridor, he stopped me with a soft hand on my arm. "It is too much. I will just choose a different elective. Really." He said softly, looking down at me.

I was less nervous around him than I was an hour ago, thank Merlin. But his dark gaze directed right on me had butterflies swarming my stomach.

"It's really fine, I don't mind at all. I really like Arithmancy and am kind of good at it, I guess." I said back.

I actually was quite good at it. Not as good as Hernione, but had top marks in my class at least. And no matter how Amelia tried to spin it, the point of the Tournament was to make friends, and wasn't that exactly what I was doing by agreeing to help him?

"What do you mean, you guess?" He said back to me, finally cracking a smile. "'Has this Vector woman given me some terrible tutor? Oh great."

His dimples were back as he teased me, thank god.

"I'm Eliza," I finally told him, holding out my hand to shake his.

"Maxwell," he laughed back. Grabbing my hand and planting a swift kiss on my knuckles. "Thank you for agreeing to help me, Eliza."

If I had known what it meant to swoon, I might have swooned in that moment.

Before we went our separate ways, we agreed to have our first tutoring session the next evening in the library at seven sharp.

XXXX

My friends were ecstatic about this turn of events, to say the least. Several heads turned in our direction at dinner that evening due to the decimal of Tilly's squeal.

"Good on you, Eliza!" Ginny said excitedly.

"Taking my toast to heart, I see!" Amelia laughed, just as thrilled as the rest of them.

Even Hermione was excited, but about the schoolwork aspect of it, of course. "Oh, Eliza! It will be such fun for you! I'm jealous you get to spend even more time on Arithmancy!"

XXXX

Exactly twenty-four hours later, I was finishing my dinner and getting slightly nervous about the impending tutoring session. What if I was terrible at it? What if Maxwell thought I was an idiot, muggle-born loser? What if he turned out to be just as awful and snobby as Malfoy?

I shook my head, trying to rid it of the negative thoughts, and focused on the story that the twins were telling us. Something about a prank they were planning to pull on Filch. I was only half listening and gazing into my pumpkin juice, when everyone at our section of the table suddenly went quiet. Ginny nudged me sharply in the ribs, and I quickly looked up.

Maxwell was standing on the other side of the table, smiling down at me, dimples on full display.

"Are you ready to study, Eliza?" He asked.

I heard Amelia say something off color under her breath that had Ginny snorting, and got up as quickly as I could to avoid Maxwell hearing anything else my so-called friends had to say about our tutoring sessions.

"Yes, yes, coming Maxwell!" I grabbed my bag and scrambled around the table to meet him at the doors of the Great Hall. Unfortunately, I had to walk down the length of the table to reach him.

Ron whispered to me as I passed, "Got yourself a french boyfriend already, Eliza?"

"Shut it, Ronald." I grumbled and walked even faster.

I felt like everyone in the Great Hall was staring at me as I finally made it to Maxwell, and we started for the doors out of the room.

"Are you ok, Eliza?" Maxwell kindly asked. "You seem, um, flustered I think is the word."

"I'm fine!" I said, and whispered "My friends are just tossers," where he couldn't hear.

It took me until we were in the library, settled at a cozy table by a window, to fully calm down.

Maxwell was sitting across from me, looking like an eager puppy. Dark hair artfully mussed and his dark blue Beauxbatons tie still on.

"Right," I said, while pulling out my textbook for the class, some parchment, a quill, and some ink. "Thought we would start right where Vector started at the beginning of term. The alphabet," I said, pointing to a chart at the beginning of my textbook. "Once you learn which numbers correspond with which letters, everything will make a lot more sense."

We worked without stopping for the next hour. I would explain something, he would ask a few questions, and then we would solve practical problems, based off of what I had just explained, together. He seemed to pick up on everything fairly quickly, which made things a lot easier for me.

When I thought we had covered enough information for one night, I closed my textbook. He did the same. Neither of us made to leave, though.

"Did you friends embarrass you about tutoring me, Eliza?" He asked seemingly out of nowhere. He seemed genuinely curious.

"What!? No, of course not!" I said, too quickly and too loudly.

This earned us a sharp "Shhh" from Madam Pince, the librarian.

Maxwell couldn't stifle his chuckle, but he tried.

"Why would you think that?" I whispered back to him.

"It's just that they seemed to giggling alot as you left the table. That dark haired one,"

"Tilly." I offered.

"Tilly, even made some high pitched little noise I don't know what to call. It was charming," He added quickly when he saw me start to get defensive about my friend, "But still, sort of unusual, non?"

"They just, well, it is quite embarrassing actually, if you really want to know." I said. I sometimes had moments where I couldn't control what I said. This appeared to be one of those times.

Fantastic.

He leaned forward in his seat and had that eager expression on again, brows raised high on his forehead. "I do!" he whispered, like we were old friends. Which it kind of felt like we were.

"It's just that, my friends, well, they think that you are rather fit." I could not believe I had just said that out loud and had to fight the urge to slap my hand over my mouth.

But his brow furrowed and he looked confused. "Fit?" Something must have gotten lost in translation.

"Oh, it means, well, attractive? Handsome?" Why was I still talking?

I saw the instant it clicked in his head, and he tilted his head back and let out the nicest, but loudest, laugh I had ever heard. A true, happy laugh.

Madame Pince was on us in an instant. "Out! Now!" She hissed.

Maxwell was still laughing as we packed our things and made our way out of the library, earning even more stares from the quiet, well-behaved students who were still trying to finish their work. I think I even saw a pair of angry grey eyes staring at us from over a large textbook, but didn't have the courage to see if they belonged to the Prince of Slytherin himself. That was the last thing I needed.

My face was on fire by the time we made it into the corridor.

"I'm sorry," he finally said, "But it was very funny, Eliza!" coming to a stop in the middle of the corridor.

"I guess…" I said, looking up into his crinkling eyes, still very embarrassed about the whole situation.

He smiled down at me. "Thank you for agreeing to help me. I think we are going to get along just fine. He grabbed my hand and kissed it like he had done the day before, and walked towards the stairs. "I'll see you tomorrow evening. I promise to be good and not get us kicked out of the library again."

I hadn't responded when I heard him shout up the stairs he had just disappeared down, "And tell your friends that they are all lovely as well!"

My friends were still in the Common Room when I crawled through the portrait hole a few minutes later. Or course they had waited up.

"Tell. Us. Everything!" sweet Tilly demanded.

I told them how we had worked for an hour, and then how he had asked if I was embarrassed to tutor him.

I have to admit that it was very satisfying to say, "And then I told him you lot all find him really fit."

Which was met with silence.

"You did what?" Amelia asked in a low and dangerous voice.

I dashed for the stairs to our dormitory and yelled behind to my stunned friends, "He got a good laugh out of that! And he thinks you all are lovely too!"

"What?!" I heard all three of them shout, before all three of them scrambled up the stairs after me.