Chapter Two

Fleur couldn't help but giggle, feeling lighthearted and very girlish indeed as she did a full-circle turn right in front of her friends, her silky blue skirt fluttering gracefully up and then back down with her movements. She lifted a hand to cover her mouth, coquettish smile playing on her pink lips, as one of her friends leaned in closer to her, whispering something that only she and the other girls around her could hear. They all burst out into laughter simultaneously, all except for Fleur, who still held that same coy smile on her face, azure eyes twinkling brightly as they flicked from her friends and then to the pale-faced boy who approached the group of them.

Just a few days ago, Professor Flitwick had informed the Ravenclaw students, as well as those hailing from Beauxbatons, of the upcoming Yule Ball. Undoubtedly now the entire school knew as well; each Head of House had certainly told their students. And although Fleur had yet to be asked by anyone, no one in this group had any doubt of who was going to be asked, and the girls around Fleur might as well have just left her with the boy; that was the extent to which they knew this invitation was not for them. As the boy neared, the girls hushed and stepped back, allowing Fleur the boy's full attention.

"H-hello," the boy managed with little stammer. "F-Fleur?" Fleur raised a brow in acknowledgement, but waited for him to continue, knowing before he opened his mouth what would come out. He took in a breath, and then said as confidently as possible, "Would you fancy coming to the Yule Ball with me?" He stopped abruptly, looking at Fleur hopefully, though he did seem a bit uncomfortable, as now Fleur's friends started chattering among themselves, grinning and whispering and watching Fleur to see what she would say.

Fleur knew she had almost every boy in Hogwarts wrapped around her finger; any little thing she wanted, she could get from them – this she knew, and this she had expected. After all, it had been so ever since her birth, and she had long since grown used to the attention showered on her by suitors, which happened to be nearly every boy, and the occasional girl, who set eyes on her. Frankly she had been more than a little surprised at the length of time it had taken the boy to gather the courage to ask her; it had already been a few days since the announcement of the Yule Ball, and he had been the first one to ask her there. Though she knew he certainly wouldn't be the last.

She was aware of the hushed but excited voices behind her, and knew that she should give an answer sometime soon. The boy wasn't going to wait forever – honestly, Fleur thought that if she made him wait any longer he would burst from the suspense. She knew her friends expected her to turn the boy down; that was her nature – she was a fickle person. He looked quite apprehensive, and deep down, the French witch felt badly for having to turn him down… She felt bad for having to turn down nearly every single person she had turned down in the past, though she had never once expressed this regret. More than once she had been regarded as cold and callous, one who received so much attention from hopeful suitors that she could pick and choose which one she wanted, or even charm those she wished to be with.

But this time she wasn't doing that. She was turning him down, yes, and in hopes of someone else asking her, yes – but it wasn't the same as all those other times. Now this time, she specifically had her eye on someone else. Not just hoping for any other student who was slightly more attractive, or more famous, or more popular. No… she knew exactly who she was waiting for. And if said person never got around to asking her to the ball, well – she would have to settle for someone else, because she was a Triwizard Champion, and there was no going without a dance partner.

"I'm very sorry," she finally responded, looking at the boy. He met her eyes and was quick to look elsewhere, mumbling something about everything being okay, and fine. She watched as he turned and hastened to walk away, guessing that the boy was no doubt embarrassed. The girls who had been standing behind her throughout all this now clustered around her again, resuming their giggling and soft whispers. Placing a hand into her skirt pocket, Fleur turned her attention back to her friends and walked on, chattering happily with them, the encounter with the boy slowly fading from her mind as the seconds passed.

"So."

Fleur looked up from her book as the voice began, and a small stack of books was placed on the table in front of her. A light smile lit her face as she was greeted by the sight of Hermione, cheeks flushed – most likely from running to the library from her latest class. Closing her book, Fleur regarded her friend with interest and questioning, and didn't have to wait very long before the other girl continued speaking.

"I haven't seen you of late."

"Miss me already, Mademoiselle Granger?" Fleur teased lightly, grin playing on her lips, quirking one side upwards ever so slightly. Hermione reddened very slightly at the remark but rolled her eyes, which caused the French witch to chuckle. Fleur then leaned back in her chair, and with one hand reached up to her blonde hair, which fell around her shoulders down to her mid-back, and pulled the straight locks back into a loose ponytail. She placed the closed book on the table, on top of the stack already there, and regarded her friend with a polite look, which soon turned into a brilliant smile, "Don't worry, I've been doing well."

Hermione bit her lip, nodding and trying to quell the funny feeling that surfaced in her. She knew just how well Fleur had been doing; she had been witness to many a boy stopping and inviting the French girl to go to the Yule Ball with him. And what puzzled her was the fact that Fleur seemed to turn down each and every single one of them that had asked her – Hermione could tell by the distraught looks on their faces as they turned away from her. The Gryffindor girl knew that by now, the French witch would have already had a date… there was no questioning that. But she wondered who it was, for Fleur seemed quite happy indeed, and she took that to mean only one thing, the one thing she had already known: That she had a date, a date who made her quite happy indeed. Which made her happy for her friend, but yet sadness crept in at the edges, and she tried her hardest to ignore this strange feeling.

"How are you?" the French girl's lips curved into a grin, as she lightly, cautiously prodded, "Do you 'ave a date for the Ball already?" Fleur leaned in a bit closer at that, studying the brunette who was now seated in front of her, absently muttering, more to herself than to Hermione, "Such a pretty face; certainly you have someone?"

The brunette flushed, the heat rising from her chest and then claiming her neck and cheeks shortly after at Fleur's remark. She averted her eyes, fidgeting under Fleur's strong gaze. She wondered if the girl was joking about her having a date, because she'd assumed that everyone who knew her knew there was no way that Hermione Granger would get a date – ever. That might just have been the Hogwarts student body talking, although to their credit, they had been rather surprised to hear that Neville had gotten a date before Hermione had. Which wasn't exactly a compliment, but nonetheless she found the fact they'd thought her more capable of getting a date than Neville comforting to hear. But then she felt bad for thinking that way about Neville.

"No," Hermione laughed nervously and halfheartedly, the butterflies rising in her stomach as she noticed Fleur play with a strand of her blonde hair. She looked up then and was surprised when her chocolate brown eyes met Fleur's blue ones. "No date."

"No date?" Fleur repeated with an arched brow, absolutely startled at the revelation – which Hermione found flattering, since it seemed her friend had such confidence in her. After the initial shock had worn off, Fleur thought about this information she had just received, and a wave of relief washed over her, though she was careful not to let any of it show. Instead she allowed her eyes to trail over the girl's face again, before resting her head on one hand and allowing her gaze to fall on the books.

"You can't possibly be surprised," Hermione answered, a hint of irritation in her voice. Was Fleur really that clueless? She understood if the girl was trying to be friendly and supportive, like any other friend… but this was getting a bit much. Because it didn't seem possible that Fleur could be that surprised and mean it. Hermione found herself thinking that at least with Harry and Ron, while they did try their hands at being supportive, they were honest with her, and wouldn't have been surprised if she didn't have a date for the Ball.

Fleur frowned at this, catching the annoyance in the other girl's voice; whatever had caused Hermione to think she couldn't ever have a date? If Fleur was brave enough, she would have asked the Gryffindor to be her date right then and there – but as things were, she couldn't muster up the courage and instead felt her own share of irritation towards the girl. Hermione was pretty, anyone who looked twice could see that. Why did she have all this doubt? It seemed unnatural, and Fleur hated that the other girl was putting herself down as such. And before she could help herself, Fleur had blurted out rather bitingly, "Well, it's no wonder no one's asked you; listen to yourself!"

At this, Hermione stood abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the wooden floor-boards and causing Madam Pince to send an angry glare their way. Hermione easily ignored the librarian, glaring angrily at Fleur, hurt that the girl could even say such a thing. The French girl was someone she liked, and if nothing else she'd thought she'd made a friend, but obviously she'd been mistaken. She was quick to snap back, "Well at least I'm not the one who goes around rejecting every boy who asks her out! You are so bloody spoiled!"

"Rejecting every boy?" Fleur snarled back, standing so quickly her chair fell back with a loud clatter. This was unbelievable. Hermione was being ridiculous. "I'll have you know that the Davies boy has asked me, and you know what? I said yes!"

"Well – well, good for you!"

"I know," Fleur glared angrily at Hermione, blue eyes ablaze, ignoring the fact that Madam Pince was now headed towards the two of them and threatening to hex them if they didn't keep it down.

Hermione glared right back at Fleur, turning away briefly only to glance at Madam Pince, who was advancing with a raised wand. And then without another word, she stormed off, the twin doors slamming shut loudly in her wake. The blonde-haired girl stared after her, feeling her heart rate return to normal as she calmed down, closing her eyes as she slumped down into the chair she hadn't knocked backwards, leaning her forehead against the stack of books that Hermione had left in her rage, breathing a soft yet frustrated, "Merde!"

Fleur and Hermione spent the next week avoiding each other; or rather, Hermione spent the next week trying to avoid Fleur as much as was humanly possible. When she spotted the platinum-colored hair in the hallways, she would duck behind Harry or Ron, or if she was alone, took another corridor or hid behind a statue. She was aware of Fleur's efforts to talk to her again, maybe apologize… But she wasn't in the mood to hear the girl out. Nor was she about to apologize for what she had said to the other girl. She realized that the French girl had the books she had left that day in the library, but there was no way she was going to give in. There wasn't a chance of her approaching the other girl to reconcile; not one bit. She would just send Harry in her place – not Ron, because the sight of him pining after Fleur made her angry, and she justified her anger as not wanting Ron to get hurt, but neither Harry nor Ginny seemed to buy the excuse, as was obvious from the exchanges they shared.

"Hermione," Harry sighed one day at dinner. "Why don't you just go talk to her?"

"Absolutely not," the Gryffindor girl responded stubbornly, crossing her arms against her chest. Her gaze drifted to the walls around the Hall, taking in the decorations and Christmas lights that had just been strung up that afternoon. "If she wants to talk, she can talk to me first. There's no way I'm going to see her first." She couldn't help being this way, she thought as she stabbed at a little piece of meat angrily, ignoring the stares and whispers about the fight she and Fleur Delacour supposedly had. She knew they were all wondering if that was the end of their friendship… and she also knew that the rumours got more elaborate and frankly quite ridiculous as it was passed on from person to person. Her pride wouldn't let her be the first one to cave in and try to be friends with the girl who was responsible for all this rumour-mongering again. So she spent those seven days this way, with Harry and Ginny trying to coax her into talking to the pretty blonde, but with Hermione refusing every time.

But as everyone knows, there's really only so long one can avoid another, and as fate (or whatever higher power you believe in, should you believe in one at all) would have it, one Saturday afternoon exactly two weeks after Hermione's and Fleur's falling out, the two girls met face-to-face again. It was unplanned, of course, as Hermione was still angry and hurt by what Fleur had said to her, and embarrassed at what she had said to Fleur in response. But as aforementioned, it wasn't to be helped.

It was a beautiful day out, and Hermione was sitting in the Courtyard, watching Fleur darkly as she laughed with her Beauxbatons friends, clenching her jaw as it dawned on her that the Ball was no more than a week away. She herself had gotten a date; it seemed that Viktor Krum had taken an interest in Hermione, and perhaps because she was flattered, she agreed. He was good-looking, and he certainly hadn't said anything that gave her a reason to be mad at him, unlike certain other people she wouldn't name.

But although the Ball was just a week away and anyone with a sensible brain would have known that Fleur already had a date, it never did stop boys from trying. In fact, right this very moment Hermione spotted a familiar shock of red hair, determinedly striding towards Fleur and her friends, who just so happened to be slowly drifting in the Gryffindor girl's direction. Hermione was about to call out to Ron, knowing nothing good could come of this (after all, she had already informed him of Fleur going with Roger Davies), but before she could the redhead had already yelled out loudly across the Courtyard, "Oy! Delacour!"

Fleur turned around to face the boy, hand placed neatly, dare one say sexily, on her hip. She had been about to approach Hermione, hoping the girl wouldn't rebuff her, only to be interrupted by this boy. Who seemed rather rude, yelling at her like that, or at least rude for someone who was good friends with Hermione, and the girl found herself wondering why Hermione kept this sort of company. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Hermione burying her face in her hands, and a light smile reached her lips. "I'll 'ave you know that no, I will not go to ze Ball with you, especially not after ze way you have just spoken to me," Fleur said coolly, getting rather tired of having to turn down numerous boys in one day, and instantly turned around, catching Hermione's eye briefly but not really knowing what to say if she did speak to her, and then marching off towards who knew where, her friends following behind her.

Hermione had spent most of the rest of the day trying to comfort Ron, who was mortified at what he'd done and was inconsolable. When he finally spoke, all he managed to say was, "Why's she going with Davies? He's not that good-looking." And Hermione was asking herself the same thing, though outwardly she just nodded and went along with her friend, trying to comfort him as best she could. When Ron seemed fine and Hermione thought he wouldn't run off to try and do himself in, she decided to leave him – though she was relieved to find Harry nearby and told him to look after their friend.

She, on the other hand (and with Harry's full support), headed off to the library, which she hadn't frequented ever since what she referred to as "The Fight" with Fleur. She had a feeling that the girl might be there this evening, and when she arrived she was disappointed by the lack of the girl's presence. She picked out a random book and sat down with it, reading but not really reading, not sure exactly what the feelings she was experiencing were. Because how could anybody be sad, angry, frustrated, and all around just upset… but mainly with herself… at the same time? It seemed impossible.

But what seemed even more impossible was that at that very minute, a hand, cool and tingling to the touch, gently tapped her on the shoulder, causing her to jump in surprise, but somehow she had a feeling that this was the person she was expecting. And now, in addition to those angry feelings, she also felt happiness, and… well, she would never have admitted it, but fluttery.

"Fleur?" she whispered.

"Oui," came the also-whispered affirmation, the French witch's breath tickling the Gryffindor's ear and causing Hermione to chuckle nervously, wary of the tingling sensation than coursed through her. Fleur removed her hand from the brunette's shoulder and took a seat next to Hermione, watching her carefully before studying the (rather rude) etchings on table.

A silence passed between them, and no one made a move to say anything. Madam Pince, however, glanced over, wary that they might cause a ruckus again. Hermione had no intention of doing so, not wanting to give the student body more reason to whisper behind her back, and took to staring at her hands.

Finally, when she couldn't stand the silence anymore, she started unsurely, "I'm really so-"

But Fleur waved a hand, cutting the girl off, "No. If anyone should apologize, it should be me." She paused. "I'm sorry."

"Listen," Hermione began, small grin forming. "You don't get to be the only one who does the apologizing." This time Fleur held her tongue, and waited for Hermione to go on. "I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have said all those things about you." Her cheeks coloured, and she stared down at her lap again. "I guess I was just jealous."

"Of what?" Fleur prodded gently, though she looked incredulous at the thought.

Hermione hesitated. "I don't know," she spoke at last, inwardly slapping herself for not being able to be more honest with the Beauxbatons witch. "I guess… Just of all those guys who asked you out." There. She had said it, and Fleur could take it any way she wanted to. She bit her lip and cast her gaze downwards for the umpteenth time that evening, and after a few moments she felt a gentle hand brush her chin, lifting it to meet those cerulean blues she was so afraid of looking into. The two of them stayed this way for a few moments, before Fleur flashed the girl a sad smile.

"They only like me because of my Veela blood," Fleur said seriously, but didn't want to weigh her friend down by telling her how much she hated looking up into glazed-over eyes, knowing that they didn't hear a single word she'd said. "It's nothing to be envious about." She said this kindly, forcing a small smile to show Hermione she did not mean anything bossy by it. Then tentatively she added, glancing at Hermione so she could see how the girl reacted, "I'm glad we're on speaking terms again."

Hermione smiled brightly, "Oh, me too."

Because having Fleur was better than not having Fleur, even if it meant just her friendship and nothing else.

The Yule Ball was finally upon them; Hermione would've been able to tell weeks before merely by the excited tones in which people spoke. Girls got more and more gigglish as the days passed and she thought she would collapse if she had to spend another day with both Lavender and Parvati, who would squeal about the Ball till the early hours of the morning, at which point Hermione would have to tell them to shush. And as she stepped down the main stairway, her gaze falling upon Parvati and Harry, she knew better than to expect the two Gryffindor girls to stop their hushed whisperings at night; once the Ball was over, they would just find new and better things to gossip about – all about things that happened at the ball, of course. She was so preoccupied with her thoughts that she didn't notice Viktor walking towards her until he was right in front of her, offering his arm. She took his arm, and as they passed Harry and Parvati, she greeted them excitedly and a bit nervously, but when she passed Fleur and Roger Davies, a deep scowl formed on her face, though she tried to fix this quickly by forcing a smile instead, though it just made her look queasy.

Noticing this, Viktor turned to her, concerned, "Are yoo all vight, Hermy-own?"

Hermione nodded, smiling at him now, and paused to admire the decorations. She could see the gorgeous interior of the Great Hall, and it was covered in white; ice statues stood, unmelting, in the center of some tables, and a drinks and snacks table was on one side – Hermione could see it clearly from where she was. As Professor McGonagall called for the Champions and their dates, Hermione turned away from the entrance to the Great Hall, and headed towards the Deputy Headmistress, her arm still in Viktor's.

Fleur, her arm in Roger's, walked in the general direction of Professor McGonagall, slightly put off by the fact that Hermione had just breezed by her without so much greeting as a hello, and slightly hurt by the fact that Hermione hadn't bothered to tell her about her date. Although that could be seen as partially being her own fault for not having asked, she hadn't wanted to upset the girl by bringing up Yule Ball questions on the day they just made up.

It was funny, really, because Hermione seemed so oblivious to the fact that people were staring at her. Fleur, too, had been surprised – Hermione looked stunning in her dress robes, and she had done something to her hair… The French witch looked away quickly as Hermione turned in her direction, looking up and Roger instead and trying to look as though she had been talking to him all the while, though talking did not seem like it was going to be an option since she saw his eyes were already glazed-over – or at least, if she talked, she could be sure that he would be paying no attention.

As they were ushered into the Great Hall, Fleur found that the setup was slightly different – it seemed the Champions had a table of their own. Taking a seat right opposite Hermione and next to Roger, she glanced around at the decorations. It really wasn't too bad. When the food appeared in front of them, everyone dug in. Fleur snuck glances towards Hermione when she was finished; it seemed the girl was having trouble teaching Viktor how to pronounce her name – he didn't seem to be able to get past "Herm-own-ninny," which despite the circumstances amused her. But to get her mind off things, she started critiquing the Hogwarts decorations, slapping her hand onto the table for effect. She watched as Roger merely nodded and agreed with her, slapping his own hand in imitation, and she let out a sigh.

The lights soon dimmed, and as the Champions around her started getting up, she got up too. It was time to dance, and Fleur placed one hand on his shoulder and held on to his other hand with her remaining hand. She felt his hand on her waist, and as soon as a sad tune started playing, they started dancing. One-two-three, one-two-three… It really was better than she'd expected it to be, and considering she'd been expecting this to be horrible, well, this was very, very good. That was, until she felt the boy's hand trail downward slowly… and she pulled away from him, affronted. At this point other students as well as professors had joined them on the dance floor, and so no one's attention was directed to the two of them, save for perhaps a few students close enough to see what was going on.

"What? You don't want to dance anymore?"

"No," Fleur replied coldly and promptly sat down at the nearest chair. She was relieved to see Roger walk off, thinking he had grown frustrated (or something) and had gone to find someone else to harass. But unfortunately he was back soon, bringing drinks. She tried to remain civil as she took the drink from him but didn't drink any of it, placing it down on the table instead and watching Hermione dance with Viktor, a sigh escaping her lips.

Hermione did her best to ignore Fleur, ignore her as politely as possible. When Fleur had asked her to pass some of the mashed potatoes over, she had done so politely, even smiling slightly at the girl and trying to make conversation with her date, Roger Davies. Though after the first few seconds she began to see her attempts as hopeless and pointless, for the boy seemed only to have eyes for Fleur. Something twisted in her gut as she saw him look at Fleur, goggle-eyed. For all his subtlety (or lack thereof), he might as well have been drooling.

She tried to keep an eye out for Fleur, though, but that was increasingly difficult on the dance floor, especially when the entire school joined in. Somehow through the crowd she managed to catch the French witch sitting down, chatting to Roger Davies. Her eyes followed the pair as they both got up and left, although she couldn't see where to, and suddenly she didn't feel like dancing with Viktor anymore. She pushed away from him, muttering something about drinks, and being the gentleman that he was, Viktor offered to get something for her, and he hurried off to the refreshments table.

When he returned, they took their time, leisurely heading towards the balcony and sipping their drinks while talking. "So how did you know you wanted to play Quidditch for the rest of your life?" Hermione asked curiously, though when Viktor made to reply, she wasn't listening anymore. She was gaping at the scene in front of her, not knowing what to think. Viktor, noticing this, turned to see what she was looking at.

"Fleur?"

The girl with the platinum-blonde hair turned from the hunched-over form that was Roger Davies, twirling her wand in her hand, glancing first at Hermione and then at her date Viktor, and then back at Hermione again. "Hermione," she greeted evenly, staring daggers at Viktor, and then brushing herself off, watched, amused, as Roger suddenly dashed off into the hall, his face a sickly green, before turning her attention back to Hermione.

"Is something vong?"

Fleur turned to Viktor as he addressed her, thinking it was kind of him to ask. "No. Mr. Davies just decided to get a little… how do you say… cheeky with me."

"Oh?" Hermione intoned, her voice sharp and challenging now.

Fleur regarded her with amusement, twirling her wand again before stowing it back in her wand sleeve, then shrugged. "So I 'exed him. He'll be lucky if he stops vomiting in an hour."

Viktor chuckled at this, and Hermione couldn't help but smile, relief washing over her in bucketfuls. And much like the day she had gone to visit Fleur after the First Task, she stayed with the French girl and chatted with he, not minding Viktor's presence too much, although she had a feeling Fleur was giving the poor boy a bit of the cold shoulder – it seemed Fleur could do without him. She didn't press it, though, instead enjoying every moment she had with the French witch.

Because like she'd realized in the library, having Fleur around was better than not, even if it meant she could never have her all to herself.

A/N: Thank you for the reviews everyone! -hugs all- Let me know what you think about this one. My finals are coming up and I'll try to have another chapter up soon, but if I don't, then expect one shortly before Christmas.