After lunch, Fleur led Hermione through the inside of the school up to the fourth floor, where Fleur had booked a study room in advance. Beauxbatons, despite the size, did not have randomly available abandoned classrooms to use for whatever purpose students might have, and she laughed when Hermione asked.

"We have rather more students that Hogwarts," she reminded her, eyes dancing. "There are no empty rooms."

Right; Beauxbatons accepted the French equivalent of hedgewitches, Hermione remembered. They hadn't had an issue with a Dark Lord in a while, either, to cause a population decline.

The study room Fleur had booked was a large, stone room. It was charmed to be soundproof, despite the window it had on the wall, and there was a portable Potions set up in the corner, along with a chair and a music stand.

"The room is used for many studies," Fleur explained. "Music practice, often – for those taking lessons, it can be dangerous to practice elsewhere."

"Dangerous?" Hermione repeated. "From hearing music?"

"Of course." Fleur conjured a ribbon from nowhere and set about tying her hair back. "If one is practicing a song to encourage courage and bravery for battle, for example, and it sounds throughout the boys' dormitory…"

"I see," Hermione said, understanding immediately. "The magical effect always takes place, then? You can't just practice the notes and hold back on the effect?"

"Including your magical intent is part of the music, Hermione," Fleur said, laughing. "Turn around."

Hermione obediently turned around, and a moment later, Fleur had tied her hair up and back too.

"Perenelle had a circlet, but these are rather more flexible," she said, amused. "Shall we begin?"

"With Alchemy?" Hermione said. Her mouth was dry. "Fleur, I don't actually know any Alchemy…"

"Then help me." Fleur shrugged, taking out a set of long sticks of chalk. "I have to present a project to justify the excursion. With your help, it will go quicker, and we can chat while we work."

"If you say so," Hermione said. "What do you want me to do?"

Fleur instructed Hermione to begin by drawing long, straight lines emanating out from the center of the room. It was easy enough to do with an enlarged ruler, and when Hermione went back to for her next task, inspiration struck as she looked over Fleur's shoulder at her notes.

"It's like a ritual circle!" she exclaimed.

Fleur's head whirled around to look at her. "What?"

"You're drawing a ritual circle," Hermione repeated, excited. "Look – the circle is to contain the magic and energy, the ring is where the runes go, and these lines are channels and veins to bring in more carbon from outside the circle, right?"

Fleur puzzled over her paper.

"Not… quite?" she ventured. "The lines, they are not… they are creating the structure for the carbon."

"How do you make it work?" Hermione pressed. "Do you just push your magic into the circle?"

"I do not know, Hermione," Fleur said, exasperated. "I have yet to try."

Sensing irritation, Hermione dropped the subject and let Fleur boss her around, instructing her what lines to draw where while Fleur focused on doing all the runes.

"How did you learn Ancient Runes?" Hermione asked, tracing out a triangle. "It didn't look like Beauxbatons offered it."

"We learn in our Language class," Fleur said. "We learn English, German, Latin, and ancient language systems." She drew out another rune. "We also learn as part of our Enchanting class. Some charms take an anchor."

That seemed a very practical way to go about it, in Hermione's opinion. If they had all learned runes from the start at Hogwarts, they'd have been able to start long-lasting charmwork before O.W.L. level Charms. And Harry wouldn't be struggling so much with Arithmancy, constantly looking everything up…

"Do you have Arithmancy here?" Hermione asked. "I didn't see if on the course list. Or Divination."

Fleur paused, chalk hovering over the floor.

"Beauxbâtons does not teach either," she said neutrally, resuming her writing. "Beauxbâtons, as a policy, does not teach… err… we call it Les Arts Divinatoires. The whole field."

"You group Arithmancy together with Divination?"

"They are both future-looking, are they not?" Fleur glanced over at Hermione.

"I suppose," Hermione said, frowning. "It's just… Divination seems so woolly and like guesswork, whereas Arithmancy is hard and crunchy and you can figure things out—"

"One uses magic, the other uses mathematics," Fleur said, lips quirking. "They both still attempt to divine what is yet to come, yes?"

"Well, yes—"

"And Beauxbâtons holds that it is not for us to know," Fleur said simply. She shrugged. "Who are we to know the future in advance?"

"But when you know in advance, you can plan for it," Hermione argued.

"Nothing is unavoidable," Fleur countered. "Il faut cultiver notre jardin. We must path our own destinies, Hermione, not just accept what 'is to come'."

It was such a staggeringly different take than what Hogwarts and wizarding Britain held that Hermione fell into silence for several minutes, mulling over Fleur's words.

"…do you take music?"

Fleur glanced over at Hermione, a smile playing on her lips. "Done discussing Divination?"

Hermione flushed. "I'm asking about your other classes. We don't have music at Hogwarts."

"I did, for a time." Fleur shrugged. "I played violin. I stopped, though."

"You did?" Hermione asked. "Why?"

Fleur paused, weighing her words.

"After a time, I became uncomfortable with anything magic influencing others," she said delicately. "I thought I had enough of that in my life, and that which I had, I did not like."

Hermione bit her lip.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to bring up something painful…"

A ghost of a smile haunted Fleur's face.

"You would classify my existence as something painful?" she said. "I am Veela. I cannot change it."

"Yes, but…" Hermione made a noise, somewhere between a groan and a complaint. She didn't know how to articulate the emotion she wanted to express. "Still…"

Fleur laughed. "Come here."

Hermione went, and Fleur tugged Hermione down into her lap.

"Do not bemoan my existence as a thing of pain," she said, tapping Hermione nose. "It is simply life. Raging at the sun would have more of an effect than wishing the Veela allure was gone."

"I feel like I'd never get used to it or get over it," Hermione confessed. "I would constantly be just so angry. Like… no one would ever be able to see me. They'd all think things of me without actually seeing me, who I wanted myself to be."

"I was, for a long time," Fleur sighed. "It is exhausting, to rage against the world for so long. My mother helped me reconcile my identity, eventually." She poked Hermione in the hip. "That, and you."

"Me?" Hermione said, astonished. "How did I help? I'm not a Veela. I don't know the first thing about what it's like."

"No," Fleur said, amused. Her eyes were soft, and she gently tucked back a piece of Hermione's hair that had fallen from the ribbon. "But you were the first to see and love Fleur, not the Veela allure."

Hermione felt her heart clench. She didn't know what to say.

It seemed so monstrously unfair, that Fleur should be so brilliant and beautiful and such a wonderful person, and yet be damned to be reduced to her Veela heritage and allure. Fleur should have had many people to fall in love with her by now – genuinely in love with her, not because her allure seduced them into believing they were – and the fact that she only had one…

Hermione looked up into Fleur's deep blue eyes, which were steadily holding hers. Fleur had long since accepted her fate, it seemed; she was just waiting for Hermione to come to peace with it, now. Hermione blinked rapidly, an odd, choking feeling in her throat.

"I'm going to kiss you," she told Fleur, and Fleur laughed.

"You are welcome to," she teased, eyes sparkling. "Whenever you like, Hermione."

Hermione shifted in Fleur's lap, putting a knee on either side of her legs so she could face Fleur directly, kneeling over her. She traced Fleur's lips with a finger, lightly, looking down at her, and Fleur let her eyes drift closed as she did, her blonde hair hanging all the way down to the floor.

Fleur's lips were soft against hers, and Hermione only had to kiss Fleur for a moment before Fleur was pulling her closer, her arms holding her close, cupping her face as the older girl kissed back. A warm feeling bloomed inside Hermione's heart, and she was able to relax into the kiss, her own eyes fluttering shut.

When Hermione returned to Hogwarts that evening, feeling queasy from the ley line hopping, Blaise was waiting for her.

"So?" he prompted, raising an eyebrow. "How did it go?"

"It went well," Hermione said diplomatically. "I think I have what I need to help us sort out the blackmail issue, and the New Zealand representative is going to write to me within a fortnight."

"Yes, good, good." Blaise rolled his eyes. "How was Fleur, Hermione?"

Hermione's face colored.

"Fleur is doing well," she said, trying to keep her voice aloof and detached. "She enjoyed the Alchemy lesson, and we spent most of the evening working on her field trip project, making a diamond."

"Of course you did," Blaise said, nodding wisely. "That's why you have an enormous hickey peeking out of your robes."

Hermione clapped her hand to her neck, her face flaming, and Blaise laughed.

"Fleur possessive much?" he teased. "It looks like a toothless vampire had a go at you."

"It does not," Hermione hissed, tugging up the collar of her robes. The neckline was too low; she tried rearranging her hair to get it to rest on her shoulder and cover the mark. "And… we just got a bit carried away."

"Sure." Blaise smirked. "Go change your robe. I'll wait here."

Hermione fled to her dormitory, where she chucked her bag into her trunk and hurriedly stripped off her robe. She'd looked pretty in it, and the boatneck neckline had been flattering, but it had rather exposed a fair bit of skin.

She returned to the Slytherin common room in short order, wearing a turtlenecked black robe her mother had gotten made for her from a muggle dress. Blaise only grinned when she came out.

"I'm cold," Hermione said, defensive.

"Of course you are," Blaise agreed. "You're just being prepared. The Great Hall is known to be drafty, after all." He offered her his arm. "To dinner, then?"

Hermione had already had dinner once, with Fleur at Beauxbatons, before she'd Time-Turned back, but most of the delicious French food she'd eaten had been lost on her ley line hopping and practicing back up the French countryside. With a sigh, Hermione took Blaise's arm with a wry grin.

"To dinner," she agreed. She shot Blaise a dark look. "Don't say anything to the others."

"Me?" Blaise gave her an expression of mock horror. "I would never."

"Oh, don't pretend you're so innocent," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "You and Tracy race to swap gossip the fastest."

"Maybe, but not about you," Blaise emphasized. He glanced to his right, meeting her gaze. "Your business is your private business, Hermione. I'll not betray your confidence like that."

Hermione bit her lip. "You make it sound so heavy. It's just who I've been snogging."

"Your romantic liaisons are yours and yours alone," Blaise said, with a slight smile. His voice was fond. "I will keep your secrets, Hermione. No matter how large, how small, how silly, or how serious they are."