Chapter 5

Not once in all her seventeen years had Fleur Delacour experienced such pain – and this pain she was in was not caused by physical hurts, but by emotional ones. Sure, the French beauty had had many a young love, but when they had left, she couldn't remember it hurting this much. Most certainly she had gotten over them in less than a day, maybe two. It was easy for her, moving on, while the person she left, or who left her, pined for her for days afterwards. She had that effect on people, and no one had any sort of effect on her. She thought she was lucky, but now she knew that she just hadn't loved the other enough… She just hadn't been in love.

But it was very different with Hermione. Because Fleur just couldn't seem to stop crying; whenever she thought the tears were about to subside, that she'd have a moment of peace, tears would form at the corners of her eyes again, and slowly, slowly trickle down her pale cheeks. She also stopped eating, or at least ate much less than was healthy for her. She didn't notice her stomach growl when it did; her thoughts only resided on Hermione, the girl whom with she had managed to screw everything up.

She closed her eyes, her head resting on her hands as she lay on her side, nestled warmly under the covers of her bed. Her body was trembling as she forced herself not to cry, to get a grip on herself. It was all that stupid Bulgarian's fault… Krum… She felt sick at the mere thought of his name. He had to be in the way. No one had wanted him there; Fleur certainly wanted him gone. But what she didn't understand was why Hermione had to kiss him in the first place. Perhaps it wasn't all that stupid Bulgarian's fault.

But why? Why kiss him? Was she not good enough?

Fleur found the thought hard to bear, and tried breathing in deeply as her body was wracked with sobs once again. The picture in the Daily Prophet replayed in her head, over and over again. Hermione was constantly on her mind, appearing frequently in her daydreams and even dreams. Fleur wanted her, wished her back… She needed her. The look upon the younger girl's face when she rushed into the room and saw Fleur and Adrienne, decently dressed yet with the tense air of two people who had just been walked in on… It hadn't taken Hermione long to figure out what was going on.

The French witch knew she had been wrong to do what she'd done with Adrienne; she knew it as Adrienne had kissed her firmly and passionately, and it was exactly because of that that she had drawn back and stopped the kisses. But the plain and simple fact was, she had gotten into it because of Hermione. She had been upset, and Adrienne had been there to comfort her. When her best friend kissed her, she could not refuse. She even welcomed it for the briefest of minutes. But then the world came crashing back around her, and she pushed Adrienne off of her.

Now Fleur wasn't talking to Adrienne. She wasn't talking to anyone save for a few girls in her dorm. She hadn't seen Hermione for the past few weeks except for a passing glance in the Great Hall, and when she met one of the other girl's friends in the hallways, they would only glare angrily at her. Fleur knew she fully deserved every amount of hatred Hermione could muster, every amount of despise the girl's friends could hold for her, and she looked away nearly every time, ashamed. But occasionally she would stare right back, her blue eyes icy, letting them know that she wasn't the only one to blame.

But the problem was, they knew that.

They knew Hermione was partially responsible.

But she hadn't been the one who had gone that far.

Hermione gazed listlessly into the fire, only half-aware as Ginny took a seat next to her and sat in silence, glancing towards the brunette occasionally, as though to see whether or not she was really all right – not that she was. Had Hermione been in a better state of mind, she would have appreciated Ginny's companionship, but as of this moment, she merely regarded it with a slight inclination of her head. The two were utterly silent for the next few minutes, and Hermione found it rather easy to tune out the loud chatter that younger years were making, due in part to the loud giggles and whispers Lavender and Parvati would make at night as they gossiped about the latest news.

The brunette knew that lately she had been the subject of Lavender and Parvati's gossips; whenever she entered the dorm, they always fell silent and were quick to busy themselves with other work. Sometimes they would abruptly change topics. Hermione leaned back into the plushy couch, deep in thought. She had cried until she didn't have any more tears left to cry; occasionally a dry sob, a choked noise, would escape her lips, but that was it. She wouldn't allow herself to cry any more. She was over Fleur Delacour. Plain and simple. Easy as pie. And that was that.

At least, that was what she told herself.

But when she spotted Fleur in the Great Hall at mealtimes or anywhere around the castle, her stomach got that fluttery feeling it always did whenever the French girl was around, and on the rare occasion that their eyes did meet, Hermione's heart never failed to skip a few beats. It seemed the girl still had that effect on her, and Hermione wished the feeling away. It just complicated matters, and things were complicated enough as they were.

All she knew was that she was supposed to be angry at Fleur. And she rightly was, but it was so hard to be mad at someone, especially when said someone caused a fluttery feeling to surface whenever said special someone was present. Hermione hated Fleur for it; how was she supposed to stay mad? But perhaps that wasn't it. That wasn't the only thing… While she might not have been as angry as before, it didn't mean that she wasn't angry.

She inhaled. She wasn't making sense, not to herself anyway.

Perhaps the best way to describe how she was feeling was betrayed. She expected Fleur to at least have waited… how long, she didn't know, but certainly more than a few bloody minutes. She had never thought that she meant this little to the foreign witch – most others had the decency to wait a day or two, or much more. But Fleur was different. It didn't take her long at all to hop into bed with another girl, and what made it worse was that Hermione had a suspicion that Fleur and Adrienne had gone further than she and Fleur ever had.

All in the space of a few minutes.

She wondered if she had entered earlier, would she have seen… She breathed in sharply, refusing to think of it. It hurt too much. Why did it have to hurt like this? The brunette had tried going through stacks and stacks of potions books, trying to find a cure for this horrid feeling, but could find none. The ones she did find were far too complicated, and she was certain that while Professor Snape might have them in his cupboard, there was no way she could nick any. That, and most of the potions had to brew for a long, long time. She didn't want to wait. She wanted something to be done immediately – instant gratification, of sorts.

She thought she might know why Fleur had done it.

No, she did know why Fleur had done it.

But it was still inexcusable… Going so far as to make love – no, shag – the other girl. Hermione would never have done that with Krum. She'd never had the intention of doing anything with Krum. The picture in the Prophet showed what happened, yes, but not the context in which it had happened.

Hermione remembered that night clearly. She had gone to the library to talk to Krum – who had graciously agreed to meet her there. She hated having to see him ask her to Hogsmeade every time, or even just ask her to join him and his friends in the ship for supper. So she had taken it upon herself to tell him why she couldn't go out with him. She had told him very nicely that he was quite good-looking, and certainly he was kind. But that she couldn't be with him because she was, for sure now, attached. Her heart belonged to Fleur, and she couldn't deny it.

So she had told him.

She didn't know what to expect; she didn't know if he would be outraged or upset. She hadn't exactly been taking a risk; most students knew of the relationship, but whether they chose to believe it or not was a whole different matter. It just hadn't been easy watching Krum approach her again and again… It seemed he either paid no attention to the rumours (that were actually true) that floated around, or simply chose not to believe them. Hermione had to admire him for that.

Surprisingly, Krum nodded and accepted it. He told her that, if she'd like, he would still like to be friends – he said he wouldn't expect anything more. And he told her that if she ever changed her mind, he would be there for her. Waiting. Hermione, touched at his understanding, had given him a quick hug and then a quick peck on the lips – and that was the kiss the Prophet got a picture of.

It stunned her how what seemed like a simple, innocent thing at the time could escalate into something so terrible. It didn't seem possible, yet it had happened before her very eyes. She opened her eyes, leaning her head against the couch, willing her pain to disappear.

She hadn't meant to hurt anyone, least of all Fleur.

But she had, and in turn Fleur had hurt her.

What did this mean? Were they even, then? Was there even such a thing as "even" in this case?

"There must be something," Hermione muttered to herself as she scanned the book again, her nose no more than an inch from the page. She shifted the candle slightly so she could get a better look at what she was reading, though when he glanced at her, Harry thought she might just be reading the same line on the page again and again. Not that Harry blamed her, of course… He felt bad; he knew he should have been working on the Second Task much earlier before, and now Hermione was here helping him… even though she still hadn't gotten over Fleur.

At least it kept her mind off the blonde French witch.

"I should've learned to be an Animagus like Sirius," Harry sighed as he rested his head on the desk. From beside him he heard Ron agree heartily. He took interest in Hermione's distracted words – she was now explaining the process of becoming an Animagus to him – and finally he relented, "Hermione, I was joking." Another tired sigh was exhaled, and Hermione frowned slightly at her friend, shutting her book with partial disdain.

"Who on earth wants to make their nose hair into ringlets?"

"I wouldn't mind. Be a talking point, wouldn't it?" a voice said.

Hermione turned to see Fred and George grinning at them.

"What're you two doing here?" Ron asked.

"Looking for you," George began, frowning at his younger brother's tone. "McGonagall wants you, Ron. And you, Hermione."

"Why?" Hermione started, sitting up a little straighter and looking surprised. She tried to think of all the things she might've done wrong in the past few weeks – besides the obvious. Or maybe… maybe it was because Professor McGonagall had noticed how much she and Ron were helping Harry. That was a definite possibility, and she wondered if that was it. Worry began to fill her; it wasn't his fault… And he hadn't even wanted to participate in the first place.

She and Ron stood to follow Fred and George out, the both of them looking very nervous indeed. They paused to bid goodbye and good luck to their friend, with Hermione promising to meet Harry in the common room later that evening.

But as Harry waited and waited, poring through scores of old books, neither Ron nor Hermione showed up.

The twenty-fourth of February arrived, and when nine o'clock neared, Fleur made her way down to the lake. The Champions had not been told what time they should be at the lake, getting ready for the Second Task, but arriving half an hour before the task was to begin, she thought, was good enough. She stifled a yawn, wrapping the thick, heavy cloak around her ever tighter as she spotted the gold-coloured judges table and headed over. As expected, the air was chilly, and Fleur was only thankful that the blasted Scottish winds weren't blowing. Merlin knew she would catch her death before she even entered the cold waters. She saw as she approached that she wasn't the last to arrive; Viktor Krum was already there, and she scowled unhappily at him. The two of them were alone – the judges had yet to arrive, and the same could be said of the remaining two Champions, both of Hogwarts. She almost snorted. This was ridiculous. The host school's students obviously seemed to care little for the task that lay ahead… Or was it that Fleur and Krum were just too eager?

Fleur's eyes narrowed as the Bulgarian shifted slightly, watching out of the corners of her eyes as the boy moved to sit on the cold, wet grass. He seemed to regard her for a moment as she stared angrily at him, and just as his mouth opened to form words, Fleur spun around so that her back was facing him. There was nothing she wanted to say to him, and nothing she wanted to hear from him. Even after two weeks the hurt had not subsided – in fact, it seemed only to increase with each passing day. It was hard to acknowledge the fact that Hermione wasn't hers anymore, and that likewise she was not Hermione's either.

She would give anything to be back in the other girl's arms again.

"That picture-"

"Se taire," Fleur said sharply, effectively causing Krum to pause in his speech. She had heard enough about the picture – what Hermione said replayed in her mind like a tape, and she couldn't get it to be quiet. At least she could get Krum to do so; she knew that he didn't know any French, but she supposed her tone was enough to get the point across.

Besides, she didn't want any explanations – not from him, anyway.

It seemed Krum might have gotten a little exasperated with her, for he didn't bother to say a single word to her after that. The two champions waited in silence, perhaps thinking over their plans for the Task. The minutes passed quickly from there on out, and soon they saw students file into the stands on the opposite bank of the lake. Not long later, the judges approached the table, and Fleur could hear the loud crunching of boots on the cold grass that signaled Krum was getting up. Fleur readjusted her scarf so that it covered her ears as well, watching as the judges took their seats. And then, a few minutes later – it must've been nine-twenty by now – Cedric arrived.

But Harry Potter was still nowhere to be seen.

She sighed as the minutes ticked by and the boy still didn't show up. Sure, he might not have wanted to participate, but the least he could have done was to show up on time so that the rest of them wouldn't have to stand in this cold. The two champions next to Fleur began to shrug off their heavier coats, and Fleur did the same, leaving herself only in her Beauxbatons robes.

She was glad that she had started eating more regularly for the past week; granted, it had been at Madame Maxime's firm suggestion that she do so, but now she knew why. She really would've had caught her death out here, or in the lake, if she hadn't eaten. Wouldn't be able to come out first in the Task – and she had every intention of doing so.

Fleur watched as the judges gathered amongst themselves; perhaps they were truly thinking of eliminating the Potter boy from this task. Because as of now, he was late. But before the judges could reach a decision, Potter arrived at a quick run, stopping only when he reached the banks of the lake – but unfortunately not stopping quickly enough, so that he spattered a spray of mud on Fleur's robes. She frowned at him, but in all honesty she couldn't have cared less about her robes at the moment. She was just angry at him because he was one of Hermione's friends, one of those who frowned at her as she passed.

She frowned as Bagman whispered something inaudible in Harry's ear, and watched as Harry gave some sort of reply, and then began to tense as Bagman moved off to join the other judges. She felt Madame Maxime's grip tighten ever so slightly on her shoulder, and she tried to shrug it off but to no avail. Her headmistress leaned closer in to Fleur, asking if she knew what awaited her.

Fleur nodded. She thought she had the general idea: Get in there, rescue whoever, and then get out. Preferably within an hour.

"On the count of three, then," a large voice – Bagman's – boomed over the grounds. "One… two… three!"

The whistle blew, and Fleur could hear loud cheers rising from the stands. She didn't spare a glance to the other champions, instead pulling her shoes, her socks, and her robes off, revealing a swimsuit. She heard catcalls in the stands, but she was used to that by now and merely took her wand from the wand holster attached to her left leg (courtesy of Madame Maxime), and muttered a quiet incantation, pointing to herself. She waded into the lake slowly, waiting for a few moments.

Then taking a deep breath, she plunged into the icy water.

She could feel the effects of the spell working their magic almost immediately; at first, she wasn't so sure if she had done it right, but when the water began to rush up her nostrils, she suddenly felt something tingle… and all of a sudden she could breathe, and she could see. The filmy bubble that started at the ridge of her nose surrounded the lower half of her face, ending at the bottommost part of her chin. She didn't know what had happened to her eyes, but if all of the books she'd read were right, then the charm had simply allowed her to see underwater and hadn't actually done anything to her eyes.

She started swimming, not really knowing where she was going except down, down, and down… The murky green surrounded her, and for the longest period of time she thought she wasn't moving at all. Once or twice she thought she felt something whiz by her, but when she turned around, there was nothingness. Dread overcame her, and she kicked forward, thinking. She knew from Madame Maxime that the person she had to rescue had to mean a lot to her.

The first person that came to mind was Gabrielle. Come to think of it, she had not seen her little sister at breakfast this morning. She hadn't seen Adrienne either... Although in Adrienne's case, she hadn't been speaking to the girl as of late. Fleur actually hadn't seen much of her recently for obvious reasons, save for in the dorm late at night or in the early hours of the morning. But she really wouldn't put it past Madame Maxime to send her best friend (even if they weren't on speaking terms) to the gloomy depths of this lake, especially if she thought they needed to start talking to each other again. Her headmistress was funny like that.

She was pulled back to reality as something suddenly and forcefully grabbed onto her wrist, pulling her down. Caught off-guard, she shrieked, but all that came out her mouth were bubbles of air that went blub-blub-blub as they penetrated the film that surrounded her mouth and nose and escaped into the lake. It wasn't satisfying at all, not being able to scream and hear herself – but her mind wasn't on that right now. She reached back for her wand, wincing in pain as the creature – which she could now identify as a grindylow – raked its sharp claws against the length of her arm as she grabbed hold of her wand.

"Stupefy!" she tried, and while the regular underwater blub-blub-blub sounded, it was also accompanied by what appeared to be a force that pushed the grindylow back. She hadn't tried spells underwater before, and she had expected a jet of red light, but nevertheless the spell worked well enough, as the creature was propelled backwards and released its hold on her.

But as soon as she had rid herself of that one grindylow, a second, and then a third and a fourth, were upon her. She sent jinxes and hexes at them, using impedimenta a few times and trying to get them off her, and when the last one finally let her go, she pushed forward as quickly as she could, glancing back once to see the creatures stare back at her with displeased looks on their faces, before swimming away.

She stowed her wand back in its holster and swam on, ignoring the pain that coursed through her, pushing on through the light green weed that stretched for a long while, and then over dark mud. Oh, yes. Get in there, rescue whoever, and then get out. If only it really were that easy. After a long while – it could have been around half an hour, she wasn't sure – she started to hear eerie, haunting voices of the merpeople, much like she had when she cracked the egg's code back in the bathtub. Somehow it sounded more… eerily beautiful in real life.

A bit more encouraged at the prospect of nearing her goal, she sped up. The mercity was covered in green algae, and their buildings looked to be made out of stone. She swam past the buildings and saw a few curious faces poke out to stare at her as she passed. Finally she arrived in what she guessed was the town center, and standing there was a large statue of a merperson. And tied down to the tail of aforementioned statue were those that the champions would miss the most.

She swam forward quickly, her eyes searching for blonde hair – but she found none. Only a shock of red hair, wavy lengths of black hair, light brown locks, and a darker brown shock were to be seen. So unless Gabrielle or Adrienne got a last-minute hair-colour change, it meant that neither of them was down here. They were not the ones who Fleur had to rescue. But then who…?

As she drew closer, it became obvious who the person she would miss most was.

She would recognize her soft curves, the shape of her lips, her everything anywhere. She inspected the ropes; they were thick and would be tough to cut – and she didn't want to waste any time trying to find a sharp object. She reached down to her wand, and just when she had been about to mutter an incantation, she noticed someone else right next to her – it was Potter, she saw as she turned towards him - hovering in the water as he pondered what he could do.

She gestured to her wand, but he seemed to take no notice of her. She rolled her eyes; this wasn't the time for petty things as a grudge against her because of his very best friend. Besides, couldn't he see that the girl was her hostage? Shouldn't that mean anything? Then again, she herself wasn't so sure why Hermione was hers to save. Funny headmistress she had, indeed.

"Diffindo!"

She pointed her wand at the rope that held Hermione down, and with more bubbles, the rope was effectively cut. She swam up to the brunette, holding the girl tightly by the waist, but when a half-transfigured shark headed her way, she pushed the girl up quickly, diving down and sending Krum – she knew it was him – a loathing look. His sharp teeth cut into the rope holding down a boy who she did not know very well - she had only seen him a few times in passing, usually with some of the other Durmstrang boys - with just a little difficulty (for a moment she thought he was going to eat his friend), and he swam upwards.

Fleur inwardly reprimanded herself; how could she be so silly so as to let this distract her? Now Krum was going to get up there first… She quickly kicked upwards, leaving Potter behind, and it seemed in that time Hermione had managed to disappear. She swam up and up and up, increasing her stroke, and soon enough she caught up with Hermione – in time to see the girl start paddling, and she surmised she was trying to keep her head above the lake while swimming towards the bank. (How she'd floated up there was anybody's guess; it certainly puzzled Fleur.)

The French witch broke the surface mere moments later to a loud roar of applause and cheers, and she swam alongside Hermione, making her way over to the bank. When she felt the firm ground beneath her feet, she gave a tired sigh and promptly fell back onto shore, sitting there, her breathing heavy. The cold struck her again, but she paid it no attention as Hermione turned to her. She couldn't tell if the girl's expression was one of disgust or joy or just plain resentment, but she didn't get to say a word as Madam Pomfrey bustled along, first wrapping a thick blanket around Hermione, and then turned her shivering frame and did the same, though also clucking her tongue in disapproval.

"Are you okay?" Hermione finally asked as she looked at Fleur and the cuts on her arms and face; not to mention the large rip in the navel area that revealed the pink tone of cut flesh Hermione had noticed when they had first dragged themselves out of the lake. The Gryffindor witch watched as Madam Pomfrey tended to Fleur, who wasn't listening to Hermione and instead was stubbornly insisting, in hushed tones, on something that Hermione couldn't quite catch.

But finally Madam Pomfrey sighed, "Miss Delacour - Miss Granger is fine, I can assure you. Now please let me bandage you up." Fleur turned pink at this and refused to meet Hermione's eye for the next few minutes as Madam Pomfrey finished with her bandages, going back towards the nurse's station and muttering something about injuries and potions. Fleur barely paid the older mediwitch any attention, and when she was aware of a pair of small arms around her, she immediately hugged back, allowing the younger Delacour to settle in her lap. "Gabrielle," she smiled through her exhaustion, placing a gentle kiss on the girl's forehead.

"I thought you would never come back up!"

Fleur tightened her hug, rocking her sister back and forth and shushing her. "It's all right, I'm here now, yes?" She stood as Madame Maxime helped her to her feet, somehow managing to carry Gabrielle with the blanket around her. She spared a glance at Hermione, who stood as she did. She didn't know what to think, what to say. Who knew that this was where they would be now? They had been so happy, content… And now here they were, cold and shivering yet unwilling to talk to each other. Fleur was afraid of what she might say should she open her mouth to speak with the brunette, and she wasn't sure she wanted to risk it.

Madame Maxime turned Fleur to face her and tapped her wand on the girl's head gently. Fleur looked confused for a minute, but then remembered the Bubble-Head Charm she had cast was still in effect. She allowed her headmistress to remove it, and set Gabrielle down on the ground. The girl hugged her sister at the waist for a long time, refusing to let go and sticking her tongue out at Hermione, which promptly earned her a gentle but reprimanding tap on the arm from Fleur.

The brunette looked at Fleur.

"I was wondering where you were."

Referring, of course, to when she had first surfaced with no one around her and only a chorus of cheering to greet her.

"Trying not to get snapped in 'alf," Fleur responded, deadpan, interrupting Gabrielle – who she was sure, had been about to say something no one here needed to hear. Where her little sister learned such foul words, she never would know. Well, actually, Fleur was certain she was the one to blame for that bad habit.

Hermione raised a brow, but Fleur merely shook her head.

"Look, I-" Hermione stopped when she saw Gabrielle eyeing her.

Fleur bent down to her sister and whispered something in her ear. Gabrielle paused to consider, glaring at Hermione, and then, when Fleur nudged her gently, she went to Madame Maxime, who was now a good few feet away.

"I just can't believe you slept with her," Hermione began, her voice a notch higher than usual, even though she tried to keep it down. "I never, ever slept with Krum!" Her eyes were fierce now as she regarded Fleur, her anger erasing all thoughts of how much she just wanted to kiss Fleur again, how much she ached for her touch – even a simple graze of her hand would have sufficed. But maybe it was better that way, for if Fleur were to touch her, hold her… Hermione knew she would just melt into her arms, and that wasn't the objective here.

"Slept with her?" Fleur's voice was high as well, incredulity lacing her words. "Is that what you think we did?" A pause. "We did no such thing."

Several of the judges, as well as Krum and his hostage, had their attention on the two quarreling girls now. Noticing the new attention on them, the both of them took their conversation further away, where they could not be heard.

"Don't lie to me," Hermione began, and the words came out sounding more like a plea than anything else.

"I am not," Fleur replied softly.

Hermione looked up and met Fleur's blue eyes.

Encouraged, Fleur went on, "I waz just upset, and you are right, it is no excuse, but I thought that… I thought…" She breathed in, trying to gather her thoughts. "I just… seeing you and him…" She paused again. "But I couldn't do it."

Fleur said no more as she suddenly found Hermione very, very close to her. Her heart rate seemed to quicken, and she held her breath. No. This could not happen. Hermione owed her an explanation too – more than just a quick 'it meant nothing.' When she let it out, she breathed in a low whisper, "And what of you and Krum?"

"I told him," Hermione began, "That I couldn't be with him. That's why I gave him that kiss." Then she paused. "I told him… I told him that…"

Fleur didn't interrupt.

"I told him that I loved you." Her breath caught in her throat. "And I still do."

Who knew that those few simple words could cause her such happiness and lift such a heavy weight off her shoulders? Hermione's words carried the blonde French witch through the rest of the task, and even when Hermione ran to Harry's and Ron's sides as they trudged out of the lake, Fleur didn't mind. She stood there, staring after the brunette, gently stroking Gabrielle's hair as her younger sister rushed over to hug her again.

She went through the rest of the day in a haze – a content, warm, and fuzzy haze, with her mind barely registering the fact that she had managed to get second place in the Second Task – which put her at second place overall. Her fellow Beauxbatons students cheered her as she reentered the carriage later that day and threw her a party. She laughed as the cheering went on, and finally, when night fell, she closed the door to her dorm room and collapsed on her bed, utterly exhausted.

Fleur heard the door creak open but had no strength to see who had entered. But when she felt someone lie down next to her, lean over, and place a gentle kiss on her lips, a smile formed on her features and she whispered, "I love you, too." A light giggle caused her eyes to flicker open and narrow, and she found herself staring at a person who was very much not Hermione.

"Adrienne?" Fleur sounded affronted."What are you- Get off me-"

"Do you really love me?"

"No, of course not – now get off me, that wasn't for you-"

"Fleur?"

Oh, Merde, no!

Adrienne scowled at the intruder, and then at Fleur, and got off her.

"Hermione – zis really is not-" Fleur began, sitting up now, only to be interrupted by a hurt Adrienne.

"What do you see in her? You've only known her for a few months! I've known you forever. I've loved you forever. Just… forget it." To Fleur's horror, she started to tear up, and when she spun around to face Hermione, Adrienne added, this time in English, "You can 'ave 'er. I am done with zees matter." Then she stormed out of the room.

Hermione stared after the girl for a moment, then turned back to Fleur, who looked as though she had just been knocked over the head with a stick.

"How could you?" Hermione started. "How could you do that to her? To me?"

"What?" Fleur managed, thoroughly bewildered now. Sometimes she hated girls; why did they all have to be so confusing? "Do what? I did not do anything!" Fleur wanted to grab Hermione, to make her see that Adrienne had been the one who'd made the first move – that Fleur had tried to get her off. Did Hermione not see that? But then it hit her. Of course Hermione had seen the interaction; the girl just hadn't been able to understand a word of it. It was all spoken in French, and she had just misunderstood… This was all so wrong…

"Ne pas comprendre," Fleur pleaded, reverting to French – before realizing the English girl did not understand a word, and then repeated, this time in English, "Hermione, you do not understand."

"No, I think I do," Hermione said quite calmly, though her voice held a hint of a cold edge to it. "You were leading us both on." The Gryffindor closed her eyes. "I can't believe I ever loved you." She stared chilling daggers into Fleur's hurt blue eyes. "But I'll never make that mistake again."

Hermione turned on her heel and left like she had those few weeks ago, ignoring Fleur's attempts at explanations, pleas for her not to go, leaving for the second time with a shattered heart, and breaking Fleur's again as well.

A/N: I was on a roll last night and today… That, and school's out. I think the other category for this fic should be angst or something. lol. It'll get better soon! Hope you guys liked it. (I originally wasn't going to have Hermione be Fleur's treasure, but ah well.)

LitaDelacour: My take on Fleur kissing Adrienne was that she was so distraught after what happened between Hermione and Krum that although she still loved Hermione, she just needed someone else at that moment. Sort of like, she was trying to rid her thoughts of Hermione, if that makes any sense.

Sexc-Lady-Croft: All right. Just realized that I -am- old enough to be posting an M story, LOL! (I thought it was 18, but then saw on the little guide thingy that said writers/readers had to be 16... that's why I didn't post it originally; didn't want to be sued or anything) So, to answer your question, I'm 16. Thanks for the great review and compliments! -blushes-

Thank you EVERYONE for the lovely reviews, and thanks everyone for staying this far into the fic with me.