Unlikely, but Not Impossible
Pairing: Fleur/Hermione
Rating: PG-13. R in some of the later chapters, just to be safe.
Disclaimer/Author's Note: I own none of these characters... Even though it'd be nice to. Hee. Some of the dialogue is directly from the book, just with the characters' thoughts on the situation… But other than that nothing's copied. Some events stayed the same, although I did change some as well. I hope you guys enjoy – I haven't written a fanfic in a long while (a year-ish), so I may be a bit rusty. Reviews and constructive criticism would be great! Thanks.
Chapter One
"She's a veela!" Ron exclaimed, red in the face and breathlessly. It had just been a few hours since the arrival of the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, and Ron unsurprisingly had already managed to find a girl to fawn over, desire for from afar. Him, and most of the male population of Hogwarts.
"Of course she isn't!" Hermione was quick to snap in reply, the corners of her lips tugging downwards. (She could've sworn that the girl had sent her an almost shy smile when she visited the table, but perhaps that was just a figment of her imagination. Anyway, it didn't matter, for all Hermione had done was glare back.) Hermione did notice Harry raising an eyebrow enquiringly in her direction now, as though trying to figure out what was on her mind, but she showed no sign of having paid him any attention at all. Instead she watched, still frowning, as the pretty Beauxbatons girl walked off, her hips swaying from side to side.
Hermione was vaguely aware of Ron rambling on, most likely something about the pretty French girl, but she tuned him out, looking back down at her meal. Without thinking she started, "Ron, would you pass the bouillabaisse?" When she looked up, she was met only by his incredulous stare, as well as Harry's. "What?" she snapped, frown forming again.
"Hermione…" Harry began slowly, uncertainly.
It was then she remembered that Ron, the bloody idiot he was, had just given the French girl the remaining bouillabaisse. "Oh. Right," she sighed now, cutting off any further explanations Harry might try to offer her, her annoyance replaced by quiet resignation. If only she knew how things would just continue to be like this for the rest of the year.
"Ron, would you stop stuffing your face?" Hermione admonished as she took her seat, late for dinner because she'd decided to take a shower before coming down. She looked at Harry almost imploringly for help, but rolled her eyes when he only laughed. The red-haired boy she was addressing turned to her curiously, but then turned back to his food when he realized that she was just looking to pick a fight. Something of the sort, anyway. "The Triwizard Champions are about to be chosen, honestly…"
"Yeah?" began Ron as he swallowed a mouthful, turning to focus on Hermione. "Then why were you late, if this is so important to you?" He eyed a turkey leg and using his wand, levitated a piece over to himself, causing a younger boy in the House to yelp in surprise and stare at him in shock.
Hermione, watching the staff table, had noticed Professor Dumbledore getting up at this point and thus didn't make any attempt to answer. Soon the headmaster's deep voice filled the room, speaking a little about the Triwizard Tournament. He had most everyone's rapt attention… except Harry's, for some reason.
"Oh, come on, Hermione. Ron has a point," Harry pushed, watching Hermione for her reaction. "Where have you been?"
Hermione let out a derisive sort of snort, but other than that said nothing. There wasn't any sort of secret to keep; she had just gone to take a shower – that was that. Of course, she had forgotten that she'd charmed her hair dry, so it didn't have that stringy look. But now wasn't the time to be talking. She lifted a finger to her lips and shushed her friend, gesturing towards the professor to signal that Harry should listen. And seeing no way not to, Harry turned his attention to the headmaster.
"Any second."
Hermione turned towards the source of the voice, and smiled back at the grinning face. Lee Jordan; briefly she wondered if he had entered his name– he seemed the type who would, and he was of age.
Then suddenly the flames in the goblet, usually a clear, crystal blue, turned red. Red and gold sparks flew from it, and a long dancing flame shot from the goblet's center, and with the flame came a small piece of parchment. Hermione could hear everyone in the room collectively inhaling, and holding their breaths there.
"The champion for Durmstrang… will be Viktor Krum."
A loud cheering came from the Slytherin table first, then spread to the rest of the tables. Ron jumped up, yelling something inaudible over the other cheers of other students. Hermione couldn't help but grin; this really was quite exciting, if she let herself go and just enjoy herself. Viktor Krum rose from his seat and walked to the front of the room, where he was directed towards the small chamber in the back. Soon enough, the claps and roars died down and once again all eyes were focused on the goblet.
Once again, a red tongue of flame shot out, and another piece of parchment accompanied it. "The champion for Beauxbatons… is Fleur Delacour!" A loud commotion, cheers and whatnot, were once again yelled. Hermione frowned, wondering why it was that girl who got to be one of the Champions. It had to be the person she absolutely hated… And as she watched Fleur gracefully glide up to the front of the room, and then disappear into the adjoining chamber, a funny sort of fluttering feeling hit her. But as soon as it had come, it was gone, and she looked towards the table at which the Beauxbatons students were sitting; some of them looked very upset – a few were even crying.
Not too long after Fleur had taken her leave, a silence fell over the Great Hall once again. Now was the moment – the moment to decide who the Hogwarts champion was. Would it be Lee Jordan? Or perhaps Cedric Diggory; Hermione knew he had entered his name into the goblet. She placed her hands in her lap, watching the goblet as it shot out another piece of parchment that Professor Dumbledore caught neatly. She bit her lip, and moments later, Professor Dumbledore boomed, "And the Hogwarts champion… is Cedric Diggory!"
A loud applause rang out over the hall, and Cedric stood, laughing as his friends cheered loudly and clapped him on the back. Hermione turned to Harry and Ron, large grin in place – though she did note briefly that Ron didn't look very happy at this. She saw Cedric make his way into the next room, and when the applause had finally died down, Professor Dumbledore spoke again.
Only, he was interrupted when the goblet shot out yet another name. Confused, she looked towards Harry and Ron, who looked equally confused. A fourth champion? A quizzical look crossed her face. This wasn't quite right; weren't there only supposed to be three?
"Harry Potter."
Hermione's jaw dropped, and she glanced at Harry, who looked positively terrified. The headmaster repeated the boy's name, sounding none too pleased, but Harry refused to budge from the spot. Gently shoving him forward, though she was still confused as to what was going on, she watched as her best friend unsurely walked towards the staff table.
This wasn't quite right.
Hermione breathed in deeply as the double-doors slammed shut behind her, allowing the familiar warmth and smell of the library wash over her. She felt safe in here – no one dared make a noise due to Madam Pince's hawklike watch on every single girl or boy in the room, much less any drawling talk about her bushy hair or bookish ways. As grateful as she was for Madam Pince's ever-alert presence, she couldn't say she took well to the woman, nor vice versa, so as soon as the librarian's squinting gaze fell upon her form, she nodded ever so slightly in acknowledgement before rushing off to one of the shelves, running her fingers over the book spines and pausing only when she found something of interest.
"Oui, ze librarian can be a bit… intimidating, non?"
Hermione paused in her movements, holding her breath and stiffening visibly. She recognized that voice, and it served only as an annoyance. As per usual, she felt the heat rise in her, first merely annoyance, then quickly becoming frustration, before escalating to hatred. It was funny, really, because Fleur Delacour had said nothing to provoke Hermione. Not this time, anyway. But what about all those other times…? Hermione was quick to remind herself that she had plenty of reasons to despise the French witch. And of all the places to be, the bloody girl had to pick the Library! This was Hermione's sanctuary, and now it was being intruded upon. No longer would it serve as a haven from those stinging remarks made by Slytherins or other girls of years younger and older. No indeed; now Fleur Delacour would make this the place to torment Hermione with her shrill voice, grating on the Gryffindor's nerves with every second that passed.
"I suppose so," she replied coldly, plucking out a red book from the shelf and setting it down on a desk nearby, quietly seating herself shortly thereafter. The weeks had passed since the day of the selection, and she had far too many things on her mind – from how Harry had become one of the four Triwizard champions, and how in Merlin's beard the professors had allowed this! Dumbledore had said he would make sure no one underage could enter, right? So how could this happen? She knew there was only one way – it was obvious that Dumbledore's age line had worked, from the massive beards Fred and George had sprouted after attempting to enter their names… So an older student had to have done it. But who? And why?
Unfortunately, the studious Gryffindor wasn't given the time to contemplate this as Fleur had taken to speaking again, her dark blue orbs glancing towards the brunette briefly, before looking away. It was odd behavior for the usually-bold and –rude girl, Hermione had to admit. But the petite Gryffindor shook her head, turning all of her attention now on the words that flowed from the French girl's mouth.
"…the library."
Oops. A bit too late to try to listen to the girl, since it was obvious that Fleur was done. The girl had turned now to Hermione with a raised brow, causing a flush to spread across Hermione's cheeks. "I- I'm sorry. What did you say?" Such words, coming from Hermione, were foreign. Hardly had she ever uttered these words – usually she was the one to pay attention (or not pay attention and never ask what had just been said), and her friends not to… So she could sigh in mock disdain as she repeated herself. But not so this time.
Fleur looked amused, and at this Hermione bristled inwardly. Amused! The gall the damned girl had! "I noticed you like to spend your time in ze library," Fleur kindly repeated herself, her French accent elongating the 'i's a little. The kind tone she took on was not lost on Hermione, who only seemed to be more infuriated at the other girl's kindness. She took it as pity. But the Gryffindor girl tried to calm herself, and her voice was oddly, forcedly calm as she spoke next, "Yes. I like my alone time."
Hermione looked towards the French girl, who was a few inches taller than she, trying to read the older girl's expression. She thought she saw a hint of hurt for a fleeting second, but when she looked again whatever she thought she saw was gone, all evidence of it replaced with a cool exterior; Fleur's face was neutral. Hermione would have studied the other girl for a bit longer, but she was afraid Fleur would take her staring to mean something it was not – and then, to add to that, the girl would spread nasty rumours about her… She hardened at the thought, and refused to look at the French girl even when the girl spoke to her.
"I see," Fleur replied slowly, her eyes serious. Not that Hermione noticed this; the bushy-haired brunette was far too interested in the book she was reading. Chewing on her lower lip for a few moments, Fleur pondered what she could do. She got the hint; she didn't need Hermione to repeat herself. But the thing was, she didn't really want to leave. She stayed on a few more moments, shifting her weight from one foot to the other and waiting for the Gryffindor to say anything – anything at all. But when nothing came, she suppressed a sigh and added instead, "Very well then. I shall see you later, Miss Granger."
Hermione looked up at that, and Fleur flashed the girl a brief smile, flipped her hair over her shoulder, and left. Hermione watched as Fleur left, scowling deeply. She was glad, relieved almost, one could say, that the other girl had left, but for some reason what Fleur had called her as she said her goodbyes bothered her. Miss Granger. It sounded so impersonal, like she didn't care. Hermione shook her head, annoyed that she had allowed Fleur to get to her like this. Since when had she cared about what Fleur called her? Speaking of which, how did Fleur know her name? It was only logical that she knew Fleur's; the girl was a bloody Champion and pretty much famous around the school for that, as well as her part-Veela heritage. She filed this little piece of information away for later use, watching as the blonde-haired girl found another corner of the library to sit, causing Hermione's frown to deepen.
Fleur quietly made her way over to another side of the library, making sure she could still see the Gryffindor girl from wherever she was seated. Before she situated herself at a table, however, she had chosen a book – The History of Charms – to read. She'd always loved reading, even as a little child. Anyone could attest to that. Perhaps that was why she excelled so in so many of her classes. She flipped open the book to the first page, and started there, glancing in the direction of her object of interest every so often. She made a point to make sure Hermione wasn't looking her way when she looked up, though once or twice she had stared too long and abruptly had to tear her gaze away from the girl as she stared right back at her, a blush colouring the half Veela's cheeks as she looked back down at her reading again.
"She doesn't like you, you know."
Fleur sighed at this, placing a hand to her temple and rubbing it, before responding, "Hello Gabrielle." She looked at her sister and forced a smile; usually she never had to – she always loved seeing Gabrielle, but her sister could be overprotective a lot of the time, and this was one of them. "How did you find me?" she asked tiredly, blue eyes regarding her sister with a hint of curiosity.
"It's not hard," the younger French girl continued, tucking a dark blonde strand behind her ear. "You watch her all the time, you try to find out more about what classes she takes, what she likes…" She stopped abruptly as Fleur sent her a cold glare, but then added in a small voice, "Okay. Fine. I know you like books." Fleur seemed more pleased with this answer, and leaned back in her seat. "But you still-"
"I don't want to hear it, Gabrielle."
And with that she let out a sigh, folding her arms across her chest and sitting there for a minute, just like that. She glanced at the empty spot Hermione had been sitting in not too long ago… Then got up, returned the book to its original place, and left the library, her little sister trailing behind her.
"Concentrate, Harry, concentrate…" Hermione said imploringly for the umpteenth time that evening, determined to help her friend perform a proper Summoning Charm by the next day. Yet again the days had passed quickly, leading them all up to the First Task of the Tournament, which was – well – the very next day. Or, should one say later that afternoon. It was one in the morning already, and Harry was just barely starting to get the hang of summoning things, even though they had practiced since midafternoon (granted, they had taken a break because they still needed to attend classes).
"Accio quill!" Harry tried, and for the second time in this session, the object he summoned zoomed towards him. He grinned at Hermione, who had a cheerful but tired expression on her face – as though to say she still had some hope left in him. He tried again, summoning another quill, and then again, though this time with a chair. He had to duck out of the way as the chair came zooming towards him, and lowered his wand. The chair crashed to the ground a few feet away from him, and right in front of Hermione, who merely raised an eyebrow and shook her head at him.
Finally, around two o'clock in the morning, Hermione exclaimed, "That's loads better, Harry." And repeated this a few times; she was so tired. She collapsed onto one of the chairs that remained intact from Harry's summons, closing her eyes. But sleep didn't come to her – not that she was trying to sleep in this empty classroom, but she had expected… well, for her mind to be blank. However, all she could think of was Fleur – and she told herself not in that sort of way, because how could she ever like someone like that? And how would Fleur ever like someone like her? – and their (what was now becoming) frequent meet-ups in the library. Usually Fleur was the one who approached her first (after the first time they'd met, Hermione was genuinely surprised that Fleur didn't hate her), but lately Hermione had been going up to the French girl, taking the lead of sorts, as well. An uneasy sort of friendship had formed: unexpected, but surprisingly not unwelcome.
"Harry, we'd better get some sleep. You're going to need it…" Hermione yawned, stretching her hands over her head as she got up and headed to the door, slowly, carefully opening it and peering out to make sure no one was there. She stepped outside the room then, gesturing for Harry to follow along, and the two of them silently made their way back to Gryffindor Tower.
The day of the First Task went along very quickly, speeding along like a blur. And try as she might, Hermione couldn't quite recall what had taken place in her classes, or even what their homework was – and she hoped they didn't have any, because she certainly would not have it done if they did. She was as excited as the rest of the school, but almost as nervous as the Champions themselves. Because now not only did she have one friend to worry about, she had two. The second 'friend,' of course, was debatable, but Hermione did worry about Fleur – even if she didn't admit it to herself.
By late afternoon the students and staff of Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang were all ushered into the stadium stands. Hermione made sure to keep close to Ron, Ginny, and Neville, not wanting to get separated from them and having to watch the tournament alone. As they rushed over to get the seats near the front, the three of them chanced glances down into the pit. Hermione bit her lip nervously; it certainly looked ominous, and she was sure being in there felt worse.
"Bloody hell," Neville murmured in awe, and perhaps some intimidation.
And for some reason, just this one comment from the boy made Hermione feel worse – threefold. What would happen to Harry? She had no doubt that the charm would work, but dragons were unpredictable creatures – like all creatures, she supposed. And if Harry wasn't careful, he could get hurt. She looked at Ginny, Ron, and Neville, worry evident on her face, and now she saw, on theirs too. She didn't even want to think about Fleur; the girl was a bit older than Harry, and certainly had more experience in spellcasting, but that didn't stop Hermione from worrying about her, too.
The Gryffindor girl was so caught up in her thoughts that when the whistle blew, she nearly jumped out of her own skin in surprise and fright. Ginny held on to her in an attempt to stable her, and she sent her friend a smile to let her know she was okay. But her friend's grip didn't loosen; in fact, it only tightened throughout the task. She didn't mind, though, knowing Ginny needed someone to squeeze the living daylights out of when the "scary" moments came. Hermione gasped and hid behind her hands as the dragon breathed fire directed at Diggory, the Hufflepuff boy, afraid he would get hurt. But he managed to get the object he was supposed to – the egg – without too much harm.
And next up… Next up was none other than Miss Fleur Delacour. She only knew so because that was what Mr. Bagman announced. Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat, and her heart skipped a few beats. This time, it was her turn to clutch at Ginny, who raised an eyebrow at her curiously. It was well-known, after all, that Hermione didn't take well to Fleur. But certainly she didn't hate her so much so as to be excited at the prospect… at the possibility… of Fleur dying? No, no; that couldn't be so. "Ow, Hermione," Ginny began, prying Hermione's fingers off of her arm, "It hasn't even begun yet – Fleur's not even out of the tent yet, and you're already hurting me…"
"Sorry," Hermione apologized, sounding and even looking apologetic as well. It was then that the second whistle blew, and Hermione, making sure to keep her hands to herself, clung onto the wooden support in front of her, watching worriedly as Fleur appeared, cautiously making her way around the rocky pit. The Gryffindor watched the French witch's every movement, from the way her wand flicked to the way she skirted around the edge of the pit to get to the egg, avoiding the dragon just in case the charm she placed upon the dragon lifted. But nevertheless, the dragon happened to snore in its sleep, and with this came a blast of flame that shot from its nostrils, setting her skirt alight. The crowd gasped and so did Hermione; the girl even went so far as to rise a little in her seat. But Fleur put it out without much fuss, and then she, too, got her egg. Hermione allowed a sigh of relief, and her eyes followed the girl's form as she made her way back to the tent.
Then it was Krum's turn. The Bulgarian was quick to hit the dragon in the eye with some sort of spell, and the crowd applauded – until the dragon stumbled forward, and trampled its own eggs. Which Hermione thought was unfortunate, for otherwise Krum had done well. As Krum's scores were given, Hermione couldn't help but drift off slightly, wondering how Fleur was doing. But it was Harry's turn next, and Hermione had no wish to go running off to see Fleur, even if she wanted to, when her good friend was going to be battling a dragon.
Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth as she saw the dragon Harry had to face; it looked much more dangerous than the others, and certainly its temperament did not seem any better. As soon as the whistle blew and Harry was out there, she watched him, willing with all her might for him to summon the broom. And he did. Not too long later, his Firebolt came speeding into the stadium, and swiftly and easily, Harry jumped on it, flying around until he, too, had grabbed his egg. The crowd cheered – he had made fastest time, and he was the youngest Champion – and just like that, the First Task was over.
After saying goodbye to Ginny and Neville, Hermione and Ron made their way down to the first-aid tent, recounting the different ways each Champion had chosen to get their egg and each attempting to out-yell the other as they debated who the best of all was (they had at first started out with how Ron should apologize to Harry, but things progressed from there). Well, they didn't touch on Harry. They had a silent agreement that Harry was obviously the best of them all, but excluding him, the other three Champions were fair game. Hermione took Fleur's side naturally – it only seemed right, and if Fleur couldn't have first place because Harry, as a long time friend, took that spot, then Hermione was determined to make her second place … though really it didn't matter if Ron agreed with her or not.
"How could you say Fleur should get second place? Harry's tied with Krum for first place, and Krum didn't get hurt t'all!" Ron exclaimed.
"Hey guys…" Harry began from where he sat, Madam Pomfrey still tending to his scrapes and minor burns. He began to get up, but Madam Pomfrey pushed him down firmly, telling him to sit. He did as he was told, watching his friends bicker back and forth.
"Hi Harry," Hermione turned to Harry briefly in acknowledgement, then turned back to Ron, protesting hotly, "Yes, but Krum's the one who got all the eggs trampled on!"
"Well, at least he didn't do himself 'ny physical harm!" Ron shot back.
"Since you love him so much and he's so perfect why don't you go marry him!" Hermione threw her hands in the air, frustrated, and gestured for Harry to make some room so she could sit with him on the bed. Convinced that their argument was over, she turned towards Harry and began to form a question, when Ron, obviously not done yet, interrupted loudly.
"Well- since you love her so much, why don't you go marry her!"
Hermione coloured and nearly fell off the bed, and spluttered half-words back at him. Nothing came to mind, no good retort, no nothing. All she could think of was what Ron had said… and how much she wanted to clobber him. How embarrassing! What made things worse was the fact that both Fleur and Krum seemed to be in the vicinity, and both had peered over from their beds, watching Harry, Hermione, and Ron. Fleur in particular seemed amused, and she quirked a brow at Hermione, aquamarine eyes twinkling.
Still blushing from what had just happened, as well as from the grin she received from Fleur, Hermione turned her attention back to Harry, sending a steely gaze to Ron, and then asked, "Harry, how are you?" She glared at Ron again, and he was quick to clear his throat, though he said nothing, only eyeing Harry warily. "Boys!" she exclaimed, rolling her eyes. She gave Harry a light hug, so as not to hurt him, and then left him with Ron, trusting them to work things out. She, meanwhile, had another visitor to visit.
"Hermione," Fleur stated matter-of-factly with a hint of cheer as the girl came forward. The French girl settled back onto the pillow provided, smiling at this welcome distraction: her visitor. She patted one side of the bed, inviting the Gryffindor to sit there if she pleased, and then played with the strands of blonde that were gathered near her left breast. She looked away almost shyly as Hermione moved forward to sit, recalling what the girl's red-haired friend had said and how she wouldn't have minded it so much, even though she didn't know her as well as she would have liked, and then returned her gaze once again to the other girl's face.
"Fleur," Hermione breathed, glad to see that her friend was alive and well. "How are you? Were you burned… badly?" She wanted to tell Fleur how she'd wanted to come as soon as Fleur had left the stadium, but she didn't. She also wanted to hug Fleur, but she also didn't. All in due time, she supposed. Or… never. She tried to clear her thoughts as Fleur spoke once again.
"Not so bad," she laughed, and Hermione was surprised to find that it wasn't the annoying laugh she so hated. Instead it was one that tinkled, like wonderful bells. Fleur paused here, before continuing, "Madam Pomfrey… Ze is a good nurse, non? Ze will 'ave me fixed."
Hermione smiled, looking now at Fleur's face, her eyes tracing each and every contour, from her ears to her chin. And finally she looked where she had been avoiding all along: Into Fleur's eyes. She felt something she had never felt, felt something she never thought she would ever have felt. She felt safe, yes, but simultaneously she felt a sort of daring – like she could do anything, and as long as Fleur was there, everything would be fine. It was sort of cliché, like something one would read in books but never experience. Except that she was feeling it now. But then realizing she was staring, she gave a little nervous laugh and looked away.
Which was when Fleur sat up, her hand gently, just barely, brushing over the other girl's and causing them both to shudder ever so slightly. "I think…" she began, but then trailed off as she looked to one side of the tent. She smiled at Harry and Ron; she couldn't tell what exactly they were doing, but Ron was being animated and was making funny faces, which caused Fleur to giggle, and in return caused Hermione to roll her eyes but smile nonetheless.
"Tell me about what happened in the pit. When the others fought zere dragons."
Hermione looked surprised for a moment, and then graciously complied, adding the occasional stretch wherever she felt one was warranted. She and Fleur talked for a long time after that, not just about the First Task but about school, and books, and the like… And when it was time for supper, they both headed to the Great Hall, and sat at their respective tables, each wanting the other's company more than either would ever admit.
A/N: Gahh. I hope it was all right. x.x lol. I'll try to add more Fleur/Hermione scenes next!