An.: Yes, it took me a while for this. In the future I intend to update rather larger chapters more seldom, than little bits every day. Nothing much happens for now, this chaper has some sort of introducing function.
Thank you for all the reviews I've gotten. It always makes my day to see that this is not completely in vain, but at least enjoyed by a few people.
Again a huge thanks to my beta Elaine, who has to help me with my passion for unnaturally looooooong sentences. *bg*

Disclaimer: Me not own. Me = stupid primate. JKR own. JKR = goddess.

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la terre vierge [= new ground; a place or situation that yet unknown]




"La place d'appel est vraiment belle, n'est-ce pas?"

Hermione started slightly at the voice that intruded her thoughts and turned around. The speaker was a young woman, a bit shorter than Hermione, with skin of a deep caramel coloured tan and long black hair hanging freely onto her shoulders. She definitely looked like she had ancestors from the South – Italy, maybe, or Spain - Hermione decided. Her brown eyes watched her curiously, but all the same she had a friendly and open air about her.

The pause caused by Hermione's attentive regarding of her vis-à-vis was clearly misinterpreted, for the woman laughed and shook her head slightly.

"I am sorry. You are probably not from 'ere, and I speak Français to you…"

"Oh that's quite alright." Now it was Hermione's turn to smile. "I can speak French fairly well, at least enough to communicate without problems."

"Then it doesn't bother you, if we keep talking in French?" the woman replied, immediately lapsing into her mother tongue again.

"Of course not. And oh, yes, it is really beautiful here."

She studied her surroundings once more. Standing in the inner court, she looked directly upon the vast lawn in the middle. Several trees grew upon the green grass. The scent of leaves mixed with that of the flowers blooming on the walls of the main building. Combined with the bright afternoon sun blazing in the sky, it made you think of holidays, only that Hermione had no thought related to a carefree time whatsoever. True, school started only in another week, but a few owls passing between the university and the Londoner hotel she recently inhabited had made it possible for her to arrive herel a week early.

Obviously I'm not the only one, she thought while returning her gaze to the young woman and holding out her right hand.

"I'm Hermione Granger. I'm going to start courses here with the new term, and since there have been some, ahm, inconveniences, I thought it best to come here sooner than most of the students."

The other girl flashed her the most dazzling smile.

"Oh yes, I know. Madame de Gaudard asked me to pick you up. She's already awaiting your arrival." With that she took Hermione by the arm and pulled her into the building behind them.

"And you are?" Hermione felt a bit uneasy at the other woman's composure. Either she had simply forgotten to introduce herself, or she didn't regard it as necessary. It turned out to be the first.

"What? Oh, sorry, I was already thinking of the courses we'll probably take together," again this smile – how often could a human being grin, anyways? – "My name's Julie Marchoise. I'm starting here as well this term, though unlike you I've finished my introducing year at India."

Hermione gulped. India? Her wonder must have shown on her face, for Julie immediately explained, "Well, that's because my family lives on Réunion. And despite them being really annoying sometimes, I wanted to spend some time closer to them than all the years when I was at Beauxbatons. And there's quite a good university at India, so," she shrugged, "why not go there?"

"But it's not like you have to go half a day by plane if you want to visit them from France. I mean, Floo Powder and Apparition don't call for closeness, do they?"

"Guessed you'd pick that. Well, no, they don't, but even the bodies of witches don't adjust if you regularly switch between two time zones that different."

Of course. The world is a ball, after all. For a second the wish to smack herself over her head boiled up in Hermione. Something that simple and she couldn't even think of it herself.

For a short while, Julie stopped talking, and Hermione was rather glad of it. The short distance she'd walked earlier from the magical barriers of Malignaux to the castle itself had given her a slight headache, a result of the humid heat of this summer's afternoon. Inside the castle, she noticed now, it was pleasantly cool, and the air was much drier. Still, plenty of light got into the corridor through the wide, spacious windows. She had just gotten a lot more comfortable, when Julie suddenly stopped in front of a door.

"There we are. You can go in yourself, I just meant to deliver you." Slight twinkle in her eye. "I hope I didn't scare you off – I always tend to talk too much. We'll probably see each other later then, okay? Bye!"

And gone she was. Hermione, still a bit dumbfounded and not quite sure what to make of her, hesitated a moment, knocked on the door, once.

"Come in!" a melodic voice in French called out.

Hermione pushed back her shoulders with as much resolve as she could muster, and entered the room. A woman about forty was sitting behind a wooden desk, shoving a pile of parchments into a folder. She rose politely and motioned Hermione towards a chair. At first sight, the younger woman found it hard to believe that this was someone Severus Snape regarded with all possible respect. At least he had given her that impression, when they corresponded over her study's details throughout the last weeks. From how he had talked about her, Hermione had rather expected a tall, dark witch who easily frightened people. This woman seemed like the exact opposite: Her stature was small, almost frail in build. Her blonde hair wasn't strictly pinned up, but down on her shoulders.

"If I might give you a final piece of advice," she heard Professor Snape say to her the last time she'd seen him at Hogwarts, "do me a favour, and don't underestimate the Headmistress. I do not wish to see her wrath fall on me, only because you don't keep up to the glowing images I drew of you to convince her."

"So you're Hermione Granger." Mme de Gaudard fixed Hermione's gaze with her own, and suddenly the girl understood that looks were indeed deceiving in this case. These eyes were boring themselves into her mind, powerful and demanding at once, telling her clearly on some unspoken level, that this was not someone to be played with.

"Yes." Hermione fought the strange shudder that ran down her spine.

"Well," the older woman began to shuffle through the parchments, looking on them, and then returning her gaze to Hermione, "you do have a lot of good recommendations, here. Or great recommendations, I should better say, since this is the first time I remember Severus saying anything positive about a student. Voluntarily, even more so."

She shut the file that contained the dicuments with a sudden 'clap' that made Hermione jump.

"However, you will soon discover that I don't give too much on other people's opinions. They may be justified or not, but the only thing that counts here, are your accomplishments. Did I make myself clear on that point?"

Hermione only managed to nod.

"All right, then." The force in these eyes disappeared as soon as it had occurred, and Mme de Gaudard held out her hand to Hermione.

"Welcome to Malignaux."

Trying to keep herself from shaking, Hermione clasped the offered hand. The Headmistress' grip was as firm as her eyes, but now there was a different air about her, more cordial, which was confusing. How could the atmosphere in the room turn a hundred and sixty degrees in just a second?

"If I remember correctly you wish to move here early, don't you?"

"Yes. Otherwise I won't have a place to stay." Which was sort of true – her Muggle money was almost finished, and she couldn't afford another week at a hotel. Fleetingly she wondered whether Snape had told de Gaudard about her parents, then let the thought drop. If the Headmistress didn't mention it, she certainly wouldn't push the matter. At the moment, she still evaded the subject, dreading the now familiar sting from her heart that came along with it.

"That is no problem at all." The older woman handed her a piece of parchment. "This map shows the location of the faculty. You'll find your quarters here," she pointed to a particular section. "I assume you've already met Miss Marchoise?"

"She brought me here."

"Then I'm certain she'll find it a pleasure to help you settle. And if there should be any problems – address me directly. At the moment I still have some time to handle such business."

Hermione rose and smiled still a bit timidly. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

She was just stepping through the door, when the voice of the headmistress rang after her, "Oh, and Miss Granger? Good luck."

***

As it turned out, Julie was going to be her roommate.

"Well, roommate is probably the wrong word," she chattered while helping Hermione carry her luggage to her quarters. "It's more like the students are split into small communities, about four or five students from the same year. This isn't anything like your sleeping dorms at Hogwarts. After all, we pay enough money to deserve a chamber of our own. So, everybody has a bedroom, and each community shares a living room and a kitchen."

"Kitchen?" That was surprising. Hermione had never entertained the thought of learning to cook, especially since, at Hogwarts, one never had to worry about that sort of thing. At home there had been her mother… She gritted her teeth. That's of the past now. No more 'Hermione! Dinner's ready!' – get used to it! She looked back at Julie who shook her head in emphasis.

"Yes, I don't get it either. What does she think? The people who make it here have so much money they'll certainly have house elves further on in life," Hermione couldn't help but wince at that, "so there's no reason why they have to do it themselves here." Julie snorted derisively. "My mother said it's all about taking responsibility and care of yourself and others." Seeing the confusion on the other girl's face, she hurriedly continued, "well, because you're not only supposed to cook for yourself but for your whole community." She shrugged. "I hope we'll get at least someone who's got at it, because I don't have a clue. What about you?"

Too stunned by Julie's speed of speech, Hermione simply shook her head. She hadn't quite understood her explanation earlier, but now she got why Julie had presented herself as too talkative. The only person she could compare her to, was Parvati. And here I thought intelligent people are always reflective and introverted… Okay, so Parvati only talks about boys and make-up, but the resemblance…

"Do you always talk that fast?" The words had left her mouth before she could stop them.

Fortunately, instead of looking offended, Julie clapped a hand to her face.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said hastily, "it's just rather difficult to follow, since French isn't my mother tongue, and all that."

"Oh, that's fine," the black-haired girl was already grinning again, thank God, "You even have to mention this if I repeat it. It's a bad habit I guess. I can talk people into oblivion, or so my father always says, especially when I know what I'm talking about. You think this is fast? You haven't seen me in a discussion about, say, arithmancy, yet. – Oh, we're there!"

Hermione watched the other witch lay a bare hand on a white marking on the stone wall before them. 'Danser sur la plage' she whispered, and for a moment, nothing happened. Then, suddenly, she was downright sucked into the wall, and disappeared with the trunk she'd been holding. After hesitating a second, Hermione repeated the actions and the phrase –

- and, without any warning, was pulled into darkness with a force that stunned her. A white stone floor came into her view, as she stumbled out of this void, and into a room. Pulling herself up from the ground, she discovered Julie next to her, laughing.

"I probably should have warned you. It's a bit like travelling through the Floo network – you have to get used to it."

"And what exactly… was that?"

"Selectus charm. Way more effective than a simple password – first of all, the entry isn't where the room is located. Plus, if you don't have both the body structure –therefore the touching – and the password, it sets off the alarm. We can still take along guests, but we have to give their names before passing the barrier ourselves."

"Whew." Hermione was impressed. "But isn't that… exaggerated for a college?"

"This was the residence of the Heads from the French Ministry of Magic, some decades ago. I assume they didn't bother replacing them. They're effective and not complicating things too much, so, why not?"

Nodding, Hermione looked around the room, taking in every detail.

"That explains why there still is a fireplace. Or is it disconnected?" Curiously she went closer, and laid her palm onto the wooden mantelpiece.

"Don't know," Julie shrugged. "And I didn't think about checking, either…"

The room they were standing in was obviously the living room – small, but cozy, with a Mediterranean flair. The only thing that looked out of place was the large hearth with its dark wooden outlines. Everything else – the floor, the furniture, the walls were kept in light shades, mostly beige and pastel yellow and orange. It looked a bit naked, though…

"We can decorate this the way we want it?" she asked, amazed. The only time of the year she used to have a room to herself, had been the holidays at home. So much already adorned the walls at Hogwarts—there was no space for any other paintings... And the dorms were shared by several students, so the students didn't bother hanging individual personal affects anywhere.

"Don't be too enthusiastic," Julie warned her, "there are still some people that have to agree with your choices – except for your bedroom. Which is upstairs…"

Shaking herself out of her reverie, Hermione followed her new friend up the steps, using Wingardium Leviosa to move her trunk and Crookshank's cage. This seemed fairly good, if she compared it to her former lifestyle. Okay, it isn't Hogwarts – but it's something. A start. And Julie was probably nice as well – at least she didn't look down on her. Ignoring her babbling couldn't be that difficult, could it?