Disclaimer: I do not own Hermione. Bugger. I do own her situation, M. André Charlebois, Michelle and Mme Chantal. Unfortunately, they will not make me millions of dollars as JK's characters have made her. Double bugger.

Author's Note: I know this is a short chapter and nothing very exciting happens but I thought I should at least give you something. Ron seems to be alluding me. I know he's somewhere in London, but I can't find him and I don't know what he's doing. If I didn't know better I'd think he's cast an Unfindable charm on himself. Of course, good ole Ronny wouldn't do that to me. If you find him tell him I want to talk to him. If you know where he is or what he's doing tell me. I'm open to suggestions. Anywho, thanks to everyone who reviewed. Mina, yes, I know cliffhangers are evil, but hey, I like them. This chapter may not make you feel any better about the cliffhanger but it's something. Lady of the Dark and devilgurl121 I'm glad you like the poem. I thought it was good to and I was very shocked that I wrote it. (I'm not fishing for a compliment don't worry. I was truly shocked.) fey, thanks, I like Seamus and Lavender as well, and Lionel does sound pretty funny in writing doesn't he? If I didn't mention you don't worry I still love to get your feedback. So have fun with this chapter.

Yours in ink (more like bytes),

Lily Michelle

Chapter 4: The Class

The next day Hermione woke up at seven to get ready for her eight o'clock meeting. She apparated to St. Antoine's five minutes early. She stood and looked at the building. It was brown brick and looked like it had been a convent or something in the past.

It probably was, she thought, recalling her History of Magic classes.

She went in the front doors and walked down the high-ceilinged hall to the headmaster's office. M. André Charlebois was a balding man in his fifties, and he was quite friendly. Hermione usually enjoyed her meetings with him. Still the sound of her footsteps on the hardwood floor echoing through the hall was unnerving. She reached M. Charlebois' office and knocked on the door.

"Oh, Mademoiselle Scott, bienvenue, bienvenue."

"Bonjour Monsieur Charlebois," Hermione greeted.

"Oh, 'ow many times 'ave I told you, call me André," the robust man said.

"Then you must call me Camilla," Hermione responded looking down at André. He was short, only 5'2". Hermione reached 5'5" in heels and always felt tall around André, even though she wasn't.

Ron always made you feel short, but you liked it.

Hermione frowned at that annoying little voice and focused on André.

"Ze class is learning French poetry at ze moment as I told you in ze letter. Zat is all you really need to know. Just do roll call, assign some poems and let zem do ze rest," André explained. " 'ere, let me show you ze classroom."

André led her out of his office and to a classroom down the hall.

" 'ere it is. Room 215. Ze class comes in at 8:30. Zat gives you fifteen minutes to prepare. Mme. Chantal sent a list of instructions for you. It is on ze desk. Au revoir."

André left and Hermione sat down at the desk and read the list. Assign this poem, have them answer these questions to be handed in tomorrow. Easy stuff. Hermione looked around the room. It was an average classroom. Twenty desks, twenty chairs, art a blackboard. Nothing special. She spent the rest of her time writing Mme. Chantal's directions on the blackboard and looking through her notes.

At 8:30 the bell rang and students started coming in. When they were all seated Hermione began roll call. She started with 'Antoine, Louis' and had gotten all the way to the last name when she hesitated.

"We-Weasley, Mi-Michelle," she stuttered.

" 'ere."

A little girl in the front row sat smiling with her hand raised. Hermione looked at her closely. She recognized the bright blue eyes but this girl had long, white-blond hair. Hermione frowned a bit.

"Is zere a problem, Mlle Scott?" Michelle asked.

"I am trying to place you. You do not have the Weasley red hair," Hermione explained.

"I know. My papa was disappointed at first but he loves my 'air now," the girl informed Hermione.

"Your father? Which Weasley is he?" Hermione asked. "No wait, I know! It's Bill. You're Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour's daughter."

"Yes, I am. Do you know zem?"

"I did," Hermione said sadly. "A long time ago."

"Zey will be 'appy to 'ear I 'ave met you."

"They won't remember me. Don't bother telling them." It's not like they'll recognize my name, since I changed it, she thought.

Hermione turned to the class. "Now class, Mme. Chantal has left you this poem for you to read. There are a few questions she wants you to answer for tomorrow," she said pointing at the blackboard.

"Oui, Mlle Scott," the class cheerily said, and started in on the work.

Hermione spent the rest of the class looking at Michelle Weasley and wondering what else had changed since she'd left.

Author's Note 2: See I told you. Not very exciting. By the way I know I said they are six and you may be astounded that they are doing French poetry at six, but it is very simple poetry and they can read a little and write a little. Just suspend your disbelief and imagine they are a little advanced for their age, if you want. Now review. You can use that button at the bottom. Happy Easter!

PS- The bugger/ double bugger bit is in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. Cheswick says it. It is a very good book. Really funny, but really sad too. We just did it in English.