A/N: Hi all, sorry for the long delay. I was sick and just didn't have the energy or drive to write anything- I spent most of my time wallowing or reading other people's fics.
But I'm better now and after a pretty stunted few efforts at typing up- here we are! Once again, Hermione has a lot going on and a lot thrown at her, but finally we see her have a couple moments of breathing space to realise some things.
Chapter 12.
Hermione sat in intense thought at the Gryffindor table. She was sitting across from Ron and Ginny, who were animatedly discussing her argument with Harry from a few nights back. She did quite wish they would stop talking like she wasn't there.
Hermione had yet to bother to try and smooth things over with Harry. She had hoped her best friend would see sense and try to apologise to her first. But, no such luck. She should have known this was how it would go from the many fights she'd seen Harry have with Ron where neither of them would back down first. Harry had always been just as bad as Ron for being hard-headed.
No, Harry needed his time to stew. In the meantime, Hermione allowed herself the luxury of mulling over her time in the Prefect's bathroom. Not just the part that made her pulse spike – holding a nude Fleur tightly in her arms—but also the conversation.
It was true that she and Fleur did not really know each other. They had been close, so damned close, to becoming good friends. But it had been curtailed so abruptly.
Hermione wanted a shot to make the thing between them more than something. More than a missed opportunity.
Lately she had been thinking about how intensely focussed Fleur had been when studying English in the library with Pansy. When not glaring at Pansy so fiercely the Slytherin might actually be burned, Hermione had been watching the blonde. She'd been carefully mouthing the words and looking at the book so eagerly. If Hermione put the memory of her jealous feelings to one side, she had been struck by how much Fleur's focus had reminded her of her own intensity.
It had given Hermione an idea. A way that she could help Fleur with her English and find a way to get to know her some more.
Hermione saw a flurry over at the Ravenclaw table as a few Beauxbatons students got up to head out to their morning classes, Fleur amongst them.
"So Hermione really hasn't tried to talk to him either?" Ginny was asking Ron.
"Nope," Ron replied, taking the opportunity to steal a hashbrown from Hermione's plate, "Neither of them are backing down. Me, though? I said sorry to Hermione for taking her for granted straight off the bat. Too many essays she's helped me through without me giving Hermione her dues…"
Hermione's brown eyes flicked back to Ron momentarily as she snorted.
"Ginny, don't listen to him," Hermione interjected, "Ron is only acting gracious because he has an essay he needs help with."
"Of course," Ginny smirked, stealing a sausage from Ron's plate. Weasleys were incorrigible.
Hermione let her eyes flick back to the Beauxbatons girls as Ginny and Ron continued chatting in the background.
Fleur had shouldered her satchel and was almost at the door of the Great Hall, Julie beside her.
"I've gotta go," Hermione said abruptly to the redheads, grabbing her own bag.
She didn't even notice whether Ron or Ginny had acknowledged her parting words as she hurried to catch the Beauxbatons on their way out.
"Er, Fleur!" Hermione called out, easily catching up to the girls in their high heels. They might look graceful and elegant, but high heels were hardly made for a quick getaway.
Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat as Fleur turned, her platinum blonde hair fanning out as she spun. Her sapphire eyes locked with Hermione's gaze as she cocked her head to one side, curious.
The textbook on Veela had said they were naturally inquisitive creatures, Hermione recalled vaguely, her mind wandering as she appreciated Fleur's beauty.
No, enough about the damn textbook, Hermione inwardly chided herself, That's how I ended up in this mess in the first place.
"Oui?" Fleur prompted Hermione, bringing her back to Earth.
"Oh, ah… Could I talk to you… Alone for a moment?" Hermione asked, grateful that at least she wasn't blushing.
Julie was watching her curiously now too, a small smile playing at her face.
Goddamn pretty girls, why are they so distracting?! Hermione inwardly moaned. She couldn't wait until her hormones settled one day and she wouldn't be so mortifyingly distracted by them all.
Fleur glanced sideways at Julie, seeming a little cautious. Julie smiled at her friend, giving her an encouraging nod. Hermione was fascinated at the exchange between the two.
Fleur finally returned her gaze to Hermione. Their other friends had carried on without them, Julie and Fleur being the last of the Beauxbatons girls remaining in the doorway of the Great Hall.
"Fine," Fleur said quietly, with a polite and overly rigid nod. Hermione wondered if Fleur was embarrassed about their last encounter.
Julie's smile grew a little and she shot a wink at Hermione. She patted Fleur on the shoulder.
"I will see you in class, Fleur," Julie said confidentially. Again Hermione felt the slight guilt of being able to understand the French the girls spoke between each other.
"You could stay…" Fleur said, a slight desperate edge to her voice.
Julie made a small scoffing noise.
"Fleur Delacour, champion of our school? Afraid of a cute girl? Come on. Give her a chance and hear her out," Julie said in rapid French to Fleur, "I know you're awkward about the last time you saw her, but you've got to get over it."
Hermione felt her stomach jerk. Fleur? Afraid of her? Was it just Julie that thought she was cute, or did Fleur think that too?
"Easy for you to say," Fleur muttered as Julie slipped away, a playful smile on her face.
"Er, thanks," Hermione said, suddenly far more awkward now she was alone with Fleur.
"What did you want to talk about?" Fleur asked bluntly, setting her face back to its usual unreadable state.
Hermione almost lost her resolve then. When Fleur was icy and aloof, the confidence she exuded was even more intimidating than usual. Hermione swallowed heavily, intent on following through.
"I, ah… Wanted… Er… About Pansy," Hermione managed to get out, feeling the temperature rise all of a sudden. Now she was alone with Fleur, the memories of holding Fleur's naked body tight to her kept bursting into her mind.
Bloody hormones.
Fleur sighed, crossing her arms across her chest.
"What about 'er?" Fleur asked. She had a sulkiness about her this morning, evident in her voice. "Are you just 'ere to warn me about 'er again? I already told 'er I do not need 'er assistance anymore. I will simply struggle on wiz zis language on my own."
Fleur looked well and truly petulant. Yet it was still a cute look on the blonde.
"I, er, it's about that actually…" Hermione mumbled, rubbing the back of her neck, "I just thought… If you really did want to work on your English… I could help you? I mean, I get it if you still don't trust me… But I thought it might be a nice way for me to make things up to you and maybe get to know you some more."
Fleur's eyebrows raised slightly as she processed Hermione's words. Hermione withheld a wince as Fleur's facial expression darkened further.
"Mm, so, let me get zis straight," Fleur said, placing a hand on her hip and flipping her hair. Hermione felt a shiver down her spine. Fleur could be truly intimidating when she wanted to be. "You are offering to 'elp me wiz my English instead of zis girl?"
"Erm, yes," Hermione said, rocking on her heels awkwardly.
"Because you know zis girl 'ad ulterior motives?" Fleur asked, straightening her posture even further.
"Yeah…" Hermione replied. She knew where Fleur was about to go, but for the life of her couldn't think of a way to steer the conversation away from it.
"And you zink it would be better for me to study wiz you, a girl 'oo confirmed she 'ad ulterior motives for spending time wiz me?" Fleur said, quirking an eyebrow.
Hermione cringed.
"Fleur, once again, I'm so sorry," Hermione said sheepishly, "But, come on… I think I've been pretty upfront since then. No more secrets, no more dumb mistakes. I want to get to know you better and I think helping you with your English would be a good way for us to start over."
Fleur frowned a little as she digested Hermione's words.
Hermione exhaled, holding her ground. She knew Veela had infamous tempers and that Fleur didn't trust easily, but Merlin…
Finally, thankfully, Fleur nodded slightly, looking a little self-conscious. She bit her full lower lip and tucked a lock of platinum blonde hair behind her ear.
"I'll… I will zink about it," Fleur said.
Her uncharacteristic show of shyness made Hermione's chest flutter. She loved the moments when Fleur's guard lowered.
"Okay," Hermione smiled, "Well… Let me know if you're interested."
She ran a hand through her brunette curls, enjoying the shy little look on Fleur's face. It was beyond cute.
Merlin's beard, this crush…
Fleur straightened, her expression quickly becoming neutral again. She nodded politely before turning on her heel and sauntering out of the Hall in the direction the other Beauxbatons girls had headed.
Hermione sighed, grinning.
Ginny walked up beside her.
"Good news? Judging by the way you're grinning your head off I assume it is," Ginny commented.
Hermione sighed, shuffling the strap of her bag on her shoulder.
"Hopefully," Hermione replied.
The two girls walked out together, falling into step as they made their way through the castle in search of their morning classes.
"Look… About the other day…" Ginny began.
"It's fine," Hermione dismissed with a wave, "I get it, Fleur puts up quite the front. She doesn't let people get close to her easily, so I can see why you would think she's a bit of a jerk."
"Yeah, but… That doesn't mean I should dismiss what you say she's been like," Ginny said, "We talk to each other about everything."
"Yeah…" Hermione murmured, "Although, I've felt a little like I can't really talk to you or the boys about anything lately."
"Argument with Harry on your mind?" Ginny surmised, "He'll get over it. At least it's Harry and not Ron. In fact, Ron is weirdly fine with it all."
"Yeah, well, he's no stranger to getting distracted over pretty girls," Hermione replied, rolling her eyes, "And pretty open about using me to help him finish his essays. I think half the reason he apologised so fast was so I would keep helping him."
"Maybe," Ginny said, a smirk on her face at Hermione seeing straight through her brother's antics, "So have you thought about what you're going to do about Harry?"
Hermione groaned.
"I don't know, Gin," Hermione sighed, "I'm terrified for him with this tournament. Obviously I don't want him to die. But it's exhausting that he relies so heavily on me to get him through these things. He just takes for granted that I'm going to do it without even saying please or thank you."
"He hasn't exactly lived the most normal life, 'Mione," Ginny said, slowing down as they got close to Hermione's Arithmancy class, "He's under a lot of stress too. On top of that, the Slytherins seem to have doubled down on how much they mess with him."
"Yeah? Like he's the only one the Slytherins try and fuck with?!" Hermione said, her temper unexpectedly spiking, "I get that he's stressed… But I can't be at his beck and call for the rest of my life. That isn't a fair friendship."
Ginny nodded sympathetically as Hermione stopped and leaned outside her classroom.
"Maybe you should talk to him about all this in a calmer setting?" Ginny suggested, "He's a reasonable guy."
Hermione frowned.
"Maybe… I'm just sick of being the only one that makes an effort around here," Hermione sighed.
"You're making an effort to fix things with a girl you like," Ginny pointed out, "Why not with your best mate?"
Hermione shook her head, frustrated. It just wasn't the same.
"I was in the wrong with Fleur," Hermione pointed out, "Harry was in the wrong here."
"'Mione," Ginny groaned, "Harry's a great guy, he had no idea he was doing the wrong thing by you."
"Yeah, well, maybe if he admitted that it would be a start," Hermione grumbled.
Ginny gave her a sympathetic smile before waving and joining the throngs of students on their way to classes further in the castle.
Hermione sighed, folding her arms as she waited outside the door to Arithmancy. She did want to talk to Harry. She was curious as to whether Harry had tried putting the Golden Egg underwater like Fleur had. Despite all her annoyance at the boy, she was worried about him and did want him to pull through the Tournament.
Almost on cue, a thudding wooden leg rang out in the hallways as students parted to make way for a grizzled Alastor Moody. The retired Auror was limping his way to a class, his bright blue magical glass eye whirling wildly around in its socket.
Hermione felt a creeping shiver crawl over her skin as the glass eye suddenly fell on her and held its gaze.
Something about Moody really set her on edge.
He limped over to her on his way past, his hair somehow even wilder than when she had seen him in the storm outside.
"How's it goin' Granger?" Moody growled, showing a couple of his missing teeth as he gnashed his mouth. He truly had a horrifying way of speaking, even if he was being friendly. He barked his words out and wet his lips an unsettling amount with his tongue.
"Erm, good thanks, Professor," Hermione replied guardedly.
"Did ah… Did Potter try ah… The water thing with the egg?" Moody asked, looking around cautiously to check no other students were in earshot.
Once again, Hermione was shocked that the professor appeared to be actively helping Harry to cheat.
"Well, I, er, I don't know," Hermione said honestly, "Harry and I had a bit of a falling out a couple of days ago. Should you really be telling me—well, him, via me—these things?"
Moody seemed to scrunch his features up in disapproval, though it was hard to tell with how grizzled his face was. With all the chunks missing and scars, it was difficult to tell whether he was truly upset or not.
"Granger, are you sure it's wise to be falling out with Potter in the middle of this Tournament?" Moody retorted, "Everyone knows that Potter needs his friends when he deals with dangerous scrapes."
"Everyone except him," Hermione muttered under her breath.
"Look," Moody growled, stepping into Hermione's personal space. Hermione felt vaguely threatened, though couldn't put her finer on why. "We've all heard the stories… Everyone knows that Potter wouldn't be alive today without the help of the 'Brightest Witch of Her Age.' Even Potter knows that. He's a teenage boy, though. He's probably too proud to admit that or thank you for your help."
"Err…" Hermione wasn't sure what to say. Moody was being so intense.
"Hermione!" Pavarti, who Hermione often sat beside in Arithmancy, was calling out to her as she walked up the hallway towards them.
"Just… Help him, okay Granger?" Moody growled, before withdrawing from Hermione's personal space and limping off rapidly.
Hermione shook her head. Each interaction with the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor was becoming stranger and stranger. Why did he only act so intense when nobody else was around to catch it?
After Arithmancy, Hermione had Ancient Runes. Then she spent her lunchtime in the library studying and getting a head start on some of her assignments, so the first time she got to see Harry was in their Defence Against the Dark Arts class after lunch.
Ron, seeming eager to help push his two friends into talking, slid into a chair closest to the window in class. The last two seats available in the classroom were beside him, meaning that Harry and Hermione would have to sit beside each other.
Harry was looking a little worse for wear. He was normally a thin and pale boy with messy hair. But lately he was looking gaunt and almost sickly. He had dark marks under his eyes and his hair was messier than normal.
It was clear from looking at the boy that he was stressed about something. Hermione wasn't sure if it was from not being able to work out the clue or that he had figured it out and was freaked out by what it was. She couldn't even bring herself to find out via Ron, knowing the redhead would just prompt her again to fix things up with the Boy Who Lived.
Harry sighed heavily, sliding into the seat beside Ron. His robes were askew, his tie loose and his shirt untucked. He pulled out his textbook tiredly and slammed it on the desk in front of him.
Hermione paused partway to the desks, not exactly keen on sitting beside Harry.
Moody shot her a meaningful look from his perch at the front of the classroom.
Sighing heavily herself, Hermione came and sat beside Harry.
"Hi," Hermione said tensely. The two of them had been avoiding each other pretty well since their argument and hadn't been this close since then.
"Hey," Harry replied dully. He kept his eyes on his book.
Hermione tensed her jaw, taking her own textbook out and some parchment for note-taking.
"So class," Moody said, getting up with a wince from his seat, "Today we're going to be discussing defence techniques to employ against certain magical creatures."
Moody began going through the lesson, seeming to focus a lot on aquatic based creatures such as Grindylows. Hermione was a little disappointed, a lot of this they had covered in their Second Year with Lupin.
Hermione shot a few glances over at Harry.
As the lesson got further and further, Harry seemed to grow more pale. By the end of the lesson, a muscle was twitching in his jaw. He appeared almost clammy and like he was going to throw up.
"Harry," Hermione whispered under her breath.
She was usually dead set against talking in the middle of a lesson, but she was growing seriously worried about Harry.
Green eyes darted up briefly from his parchment to meet hers.
"Sorry, I've gotta take notes," Harry muttered, before turning his gaze back to his parchment.
He was scratching notes like a madman. He'd almost filled a full scroll with his chicken-scratch writing already. Not even Hermione took such elaborate notes for a standard lesson.
Hermione shot a look across Harry to Ron. Ron looked similarly thrown, raising his eyebrows and widening his eyes in shock.
Finally, they got to the end of the lesson. Moody stood up and gave an assignment to the class, telling them they could write on any topic they wanted, on any magical creature they wanted.
As Hermione packed her bag, Pansy Parkinson slid past her desk.
"Good thing you already did that research project on Veela," Pansy muttered as she walked past Hermione. Her dark and intoxicating perfume played at Hermione's senses. Hermione was instantly irked.
"Bite me, Parkinson," Hermione shot back.
"In your dreams!" Parkinson countered as she slid into the crowd of students filing out.
Hermione, deciding not to take the bait, turned her attentions back to Harry.
"Harry… I know things are weird between us… But is everything okay?" Hermione asked. Harry was running his hands nervously through his hair, messing it up further.
Ron was looking at Harry with pure concern.
"Hermione," Harry said, looking at Hermione. His face was all pinched and he looked like he was about to hyperventilate.
"Yeah?" Hermione prompted.
Ron seemed to be encouraging him silently, placing a big paw of a hand on Harry's shoulder.
The late bell rang out for their next class.
"Can I talk to you tonight?" Harry asked.
"Yeah, yeah, of course," Hermione replied. She wasn't about to let Harry walk all over her again, but she was seriously worried about her friend.
It was after dinner when Hermione was sitting in the library, getting started on her essay for Defence Against the Dark Arts. She had decided to definitely, positively avoid the subject of Veela.
Instead, she was writing on the legal rights of the Undead. It was quite fascinating. It appeared from her reading so far that vampires and other types of Undead had next to no legal rights.
She'd sketched out a really good plan for her essay and had already earmarked a few strong passages in the tomes scattered over her table.
Thankfully, having a very brief dinner had ensured she'd claimed her favourite hidden table in the corner of the library. It allowed her plenty of peace and solitude for her work.
Hermione had just begun penning the introduction to the essay when she felt the hairs raise on the back of her neck.
She could smell expensive perfume in the air.
"Salut," a velvety voice greeted.
Hermione felt her stomach squirm excitedly as Fleur Delacour elegantly slid into the seat beside her.
"Oh, er, hi," Hermione greeted, "Did you, ah… decide?"
Fleur didn't respond, instead pulling up her satchel and withdrawing a couple of thick textbooks. Hermione looked at the covers. French to English.
"I want to get better at conversing in English," Fleur said in her thick accent, before frowning, "I want to be able to express myself as freely as I do in French. I'm sick of sounding like an idiot."
Hermione digested the last sentence in which Fleur had switched to French. She wondered if she should continue feigning ignorance to the language.
No. She had decided no more lies or games with Fleur.
"You… ah, do not sound like an idiot in English," Hermione managed in French. Her speaking ability was far below her listening and reading skills, but she knew enough to blag her way through a conversation.
Fleur stared at her in shock and mortification for a moment.
"You… You speak French?" Fleur asked slowly, her face reddening a little, "Why did you not say?"
"I'm not a confident speaker in the language," Hermione said sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck, "And it seemed rude to interrupt any conversations with my poor attempts at French."
Hermione sincerely hoped Fleur wasn't going to take the revelation badly.
But Fleur merely continued blushing, before opening a book and flipping to a page.
"I cannot seem to get pronunciations correct," Fleur said, looking intently at the pages of the book. She seemed embarrassed.
"What else would you like to work on?" Hermione asked gently. She felt a little bad now. She just wanted to get it out in the open that she could understand French, she didn't want to embarrass the girl.
"I take too long to understand sentences and zink of ze right words," Fleur said self-consciously, letting a curtain of silky hair fall and conceal her face, "I spend so much time learning ze words but zen am too slow to get zem out."
Hermione hummed thoughtfully, leaning back in her chair and tapping her chin. Thoughts of her crush on the blonde were pushed sharply to one side as she considered the academic problem at hand.
"So it isn't so much about the textbook learning then…" Hermione mused aloud, before turning her attention to the uncomfortable looking blonde, "How many people do you speak to in English?"
Fleur tucked her hair behind her ear, turning in her chair to face Hermione fully. She seemed curious by Hermione's question.
"My professors, any 'Ogwarts students…" Fleur replied simply.
Hermione furrowed her brow as she thought.
"But not any of your friends," Hermione surmised, "So would you say you're spending most of your day speaking French?"
Fleur cocked her head to one side, considering the question.
"Per'aps," Fleur conceded.
"I think maybe it is just a matter of practice," Hermione said, smiling in a way she hoped was non-judgmental, "If you spend more time engaging in practical conversations in English you'll probably find yourself able to call on the words more quickly. We can work on that—pronunciation too."
Fleur again took a while considering the suggestion presented to her. Eventually she nodded.
"Okay," Fleur agreed.
Merlin's beard she looks so cute with her guard down.
"So… Conversationally… Do you want to talk about our conversation in the Prefect's bathroom?" Hermione asked, drawing on all her Gryffindor courage. Fleur had pretty much fled from the bathroom after Hermione had confessed she really liked her.
Fleur straightened her back, doing her best to appear aloof.
"I would razzer focus on pronunciation," Fleur requested primly.
Hermione decided to not press the issue, she had plenty of time to get back to that particular line of questioning. She sighed and smiled.
"Fine, which pronunciations bother you the most?" Hermione asked. She was quickly learning that to deal with Fleur, one had to have the art of patience.
"Ze 'th' sound and ze 'h' sound," Fleur said, spelling out the letters that plagued her, "I cannot seem to get zem sounding correct no matter 'ow 'ard I try."
Hermione smiled. A lot of people would not sweat their accent altering the pronunciation of words in another language, but Hermione supposed Fleur might be a bit of a perfectionist.
"Let's start with 'h,'" Hermione suggested, "It is the easiest one to tackle. When people say a word with an h at the start, they push air out of their mouth, almost like a gasp or laugh. Try saying 'huh,' and really push the air out of your mouth."
"'Uh," Fleur repeated, before frowning.
"Huh," Hermione repeated, smiling encouragingly.
"'Uh," Fleur repeated, frowning more deeply.
The back and forth continued a few more times before Fleur huffed and shut the book in front of her, hard.
"It is useless," Fleur said with an edge to her voice, "I just cannot get it."
"Fleur, it's okay," Hermione soothed, moving her chair closer to the blonde's, "We've only been trying for a short while. Besides, these are such minor points. You handle the language fine."
"I don't want to be fine," Fleur grumbled, "I want to be perfect."
Hermione raised her eyebrows, amused.
"You're a perfectionist?" Hermione asked, enjoying getting to know Fleur a little more. Fleur shot her a sulky look.
"I just do not like being bad at zings," Fleur replied.
"You'll get it," Hermione encouraged, "It isn't so hard once you figure how to make the sound. 'H' can sound a little like a pant, even."
Hermione exhaled in a sigh-like pant to demonstrate her point.
Fleur stared at her, an unreadable expression crossing her face. Her eyes seemed darker than usual and were stormy again.
"You okay?" Hermione asked, after a silence had fallen between them for a few moments.
"I… Erm… I zink I can… Zat was a good example," Fleur managed, suddenly averting her eyes. There was a slight colour in her cheeks.
Hermione felt herself smiling slightly. She liked these moments where she saw Fleur look a little more unedited. Fleur held on to her icy façade tightly, rarely letting anyone see her in anything other than total control. It renewed Hermione's feelings towards the blonde. Her desire to know Fleur more was coupled with her natural curiosity and need to work things out.
That and Fleur looked even more beautiful when she relaxed. There was a warmth to her delicate features that was lacking when she was guarded. It reminded Hermione awfully of their conversation in the Prefect's bath, when she had moved close and pulled their nude forms tightly together.
Hermione couldn't help but let her gaze run over Fleur a little more hungrily at the memory. Her loathsome sex-drive was playing up again as she imagined pulling Fleur into her arms again, kissing the smooth expanse of neck that was visible above her powder-blue collar, running her hand up one of Fleur's long and toned thighs…
"'Ermione! Fleur!" a small voice called out.
Hermione snapped out of her reverie, blushing guiltily. She had been all but ogling Fleur. Fleur, whether she had sensed the nature of Hermione's gaze or not, was still looking away uncomfortably, the pink in her cheeks even more pronounced.
Her arctic eyes immediately snapped up to the source of the greeting, the small miniature version of herself standing restlessly by a bookshelf.
"What are you doing 'ere, Gabrielle?" Fleur asked, a terseness to her voice. She often seemed to take a parental tone with her much younger sister.
Hermione watched silently as Gabrielle rocked back and forth on her heels, holding tightly on to the straps of her backpack. She was beaming.
"You two are friends again?!" Gabrielle asked excitedly, "I 'ave missed spending time wiz 'Ermione!"
Hermione shot a cautious glance at the blonde. In the Prefect's bathroom, Fleur had said she didn't know what to think of her.
"We…" Fleur trailed off for a moment, glancing down for a moment before looking back at her sister, "We are studying togezzer. 'Ermione is 'elping me wiz my English."
"Oh right, you 'ate zat you cannot say 'er name properly," Gabrielle commented, coming to stand beside her sister.
"Gabrielle!" Fleur chided, her cheeks pink yet again.
Gabrielle's large blue eyes moved to look at Hermione, full of warmth and happiness.
"You know, 'Ermione, I don't zink I 'ave ever seen my sister forgive anyone so fast!" Gabrielle informed Hermione, "I knew you were special."
"Erm, thanks," Hermione replied with a smile.
"Gabrielle," Fleur said in a firm and low voice, "I zink we should get you back to the Carriage."
"Aww! But I just got 'ere!" Gabrielle whined, pouting, "I never get to spend time wiz 'Ermione!"
"No… No, I zink we should take you back to ze Carriage," Fleur insisted, looking at Hermione, "Ah, apologies for cutting our studying short, 'Ermione. I will practice what we discussed."
She hurriedly packed up her bag and said her goodbyes, steering Gabrielle away through the bookshelves with a firm hand.
Hermione stared after the Delacours, hoping she hadn't scared Fleur off with the heated way she had been looking at her.
She briefly entertained the possibility of getting up and following the Delacours to try and talk some more, but was foiled by Harry emerging from between the bookshelves.
"For a hidden spot in the library, everyone sure seems to know how to find me," Hermione commented.
Harry ran a hand through his dark hair, causing it to spike even more wildly. He came and sat in the seat Fleur had just vacated, still looking pale and sleep deprived.
"Hey Hermione," Harry greeted, his voice a little hoarse, "Is now a good time to talk?"
"Sure, Harry," Hermione replied. After seeing how freaked out her friend was in their class earlier, she was more than ready to hear him out.
"Uh, well, first I wanna apologise…" Harry said, running his hand through his hair again, "I'm- ah- I really did take you for granted and I'm sorry. Sometimes… I guess I let the stress get to me… I never wanted you to feel like I was heaping everything on you. I just… I really appreciate you and even if you never helped me with anything again I'd still wanna be mates."
"Harry, that means a lot," Hermione said, relaxing considerably. It was all she had wanted to hear from Harry.
Harry relaxed too, offering a half-smile.
He offered a hug, which Hermione accepted.
"And I did take the egg to the baths myself," Harry said, releasing Hermione from the hug, "It… It worked. I got the clue."
"I assume that's why you've been looking a little freaked out?" Hermione inquired.
Harry bit his lip. He spread his hands out on the desk in front of him, tapping his fingers nervously.
"I don't want to bring you down with my problems," Harry said, shaking his head, "I've done enough of that over the years."
"Harry, it's okay," Hermione reassured her friend, "All I wanted was for you to appreciate how much I help you. Well, that and maybe stop asking me to help you with your schoolwork."
"Really?" Harry furrowed his brow. He seemed wary of upsetting Hermione again.
"Really, Harry," Hermione insisted, "Now, tell me about this clue."
Hermione's mind was whirring as she left the library later that evening. Harry had told her all about the voice from the Egg telling him that something incredibly important to him was going to be stolen, and that he (with Myrtle's help) had figured out that the voice was likely referring to a person and not his Firebolt broom.
It suddenly made sense why Harry had been so agitated. He had no idea who these mysterious creatures were going to kidnap, though he had figured out (also with Myrtle's help) that they would likely be held underwater in the Black Lake.
Hermione was on her own as she made her way through the candlelit hallways. She had once again outlasted all her peers in the library. Harry had wanted to stay with her and keep talking things out. But once he had apologised, explained the latest with the clue, and apologised several more times, Harry had looked like a corpse. Hermione had bossily insisted that Harry finally go and get some sleep.
Now Hermione was walking through the hallway she was wishing she had bossed herself to sleep a couple of hours earlier too.
She yawned widely, rubbing her eye with the heel of her hand sleepily. Her satchel felt even heavier than usual.
She turned a corner and almost bowled directly into Mad-Eye Moody.
Hermione let out an involuntary gasp.
Moody didn't look well. He was pale and sweaty, one hand planted on the stone wall of the hallway. He seemed to be trembling a little and was wetting his lips with his tongue even more frequently than usual.
"Er… Professor?" Hermione ventured, "Are you okay?"
Hermione inwardly cursed her luck for running into the unsettling Professor on her own yet again.
Moody snapped his head to look at her sharply, beads of sweat flying off his jaw and brow as he turned.
"What the bleedin' hell are you doing here, Granger?!" Moody snapped, causing Hermione to jump in surprise.
"Oh, er, well I'm not out of curfew yet," Hermione explained, "Not for a Fourth Year. But I'll leave you to it…"
She awkwardly went to move around him when a scarred but strong hand flashed out and grabbed her roughly by her upper arm. Hermione winced at the tightness of his grip.
"P-Professor?!" Hermione was startled.
"Tell me," Moody wheezed, "Tell me you've helped Potter with his game plan for the Second Task. Tell me he has a plan."
There was something off about his voice and his magic eye seemed to be practically bulging out of its socket. Hermione felt like her skin was crawling being so close to him.
"Professor, this seems a little inappropriate, don't you think?" Hermione asked, trying not to let the stress show in her voice. He was scaring her now. There was something decidedly dangerous about this man—Ex-Auror or not.
"I'll—" Moody let out a pained gasp, "-I'll show you inappropriate—" Moody muttered, so low that Hermione barely caught the words.
Hermione felt a jolt of fear course through her. His hand was so tightly gripping her arm she couldn't easily grab her wand.
There was a quick clipping noise on the stone floor as someone else whipped around the corner, wand raised. Hermione's eyes widened as she recognised the blonde in the powder-blue uniform.
"Zis is tres inapproprie," Fleur demanded coldly, "Release 'er immediately."
Moody wrenched his head to look at Fleur, scowling.
"Do I have to tell the Headmaster about a student threatening a teacher with a wand?" Moody grunted.
"Do I 'ave to tell ze 'Eadmaster about a Professor man'andling a student and attempting to get 'Arry Potter to cheat in ze Triwizard Tournament?" Fleur shot back, without missing a beat.
Fleur's hand was unwavering as she held her wand pointed at Moody.
Finally, the grizzled ex-Auror let go of Hermione with a growl.
"I don't have time for this bollocks anyway!" Moody roared, before abruptly taking off down the hallway at some pace.
Hermione stared after him, utterly flummoxed by the increasingly erratic behaviour of the professor. This time he'd done more than make her uncomfortable, he'd genuinely scared her. She wondered if there was another professor she could speak to about the issue… Maybe McGonagall.
"Are you okay, 'Ermione?" Fleur asked, lowering her wand.
Hermione smiled weakly at the blonde.
"Utterly freaked out by Moody's behaviour, but otherwise fine. I can look after myself." Hermione replied, shuddering at the memory of the interaction, "What are you doing in the halls so late, anyway?"
"Let me walk you to your dormitory," Fleur offered, "I was 'oping to catch you at ze end of your study so I could talk some more."
"Really?" Hermione was surprised. She'd thought her study session with Fleur had gone poorly at best.
She fell into step with the blonde, eying her curiously. She was looking flawless as ever, platinum blonde hair fluttering after her as she walked, her satin uniform clinging to her form sinfully. Hermione swallowed and tried to bring her mind out of its almost single-minded drive to successfully pursue the girl.
"Does 'e always treat you like zat?" Fleur asked, "Professor Moody seemed entirely inappropriate."
"He's a new professor here," Hermione explained, "Apparently known for being eccentric and heavy-handed since his Auror days. Still… He's been unsettling me a little lately. I think I'll talk to Professor McGonagall about it. But enough about that… What did you want to talk to me about?"
Fleur bit her bottom lip, seeming awkward.
"Gabrielle," Fleur said, a light pink suddenly adorning her cheeks, "You shouldn't listen to what she says. She's… She says stupid things."
Hermione found herself quirking a small smile. Fleur was embarrassed about Gabrielle telling her about Fleur wishing she could pronounce Hermione's name properly.
"I won't read into anything," Hermione promised. She was glad to see that Fleur's shoulders seemed to relax as she said the words.
"Bon," Fleur sighed.
Hermione admired the graceful way that Fleur walked beside her. Even at the very end of a long day, she was still gliding in her high heels with the elegance of a runway model.
"So… You came all the way back into the castle right near the end of curfew… Just to check I hadn't taken Gabrielle's words too seriously?" Hermione asked boldly. Fleur briefly looked embarrassed, before hiding her expression carefully again.
"Ah, also to tell you zat I want to continue our lessons," Fleur said, dodging Hermione's question, "I… I enjoy zem."
"I'm earning back your trust?" Hermione asked, her spirits rising. Perhaps the path to winning over Fleur was about to become a lot smoother.
Fleur smiled lightly, shaking her head a little so her hair shimmered.
"You are persistent, 'Ermione," Fleur commented, "But… I do like spending time wiz you—even if I do not quite know where we stand just yet."
Hermione felt the urge to fist-pump, but restrained herself.
Hermione was curious about one other thing. They were drawing closer to the portrait of the Fat Lady that led to the Gryffindor common room.
"So… I'm curious," Hermione said cautiously, "You don't trust easily at all. You shoot down everyone that approaches you that you don't know… How did Pansy get you to agree to English lessons with her?"
Fleur seemed to consider this carefully, before shrugging.
"I cannot explain it," Fleur finally replied, "Somezing about 'er was unzreatening and… Ah… Inviting? I cannot express it properly."
"Pansy… Unthreatening and inviting?" Hermione echoed in a deadpan voice, "What did she do to give off a vibe like that?! Completely disguise herself?!"
They had reached the portrait now and the Fat Lady was eying them curiously. Fleur leaned in and kissed Hermione on each cheek. Though entirely innocuous, the action lit a fire deep in Hermione's belly. She longed to lean in and kiss Fleur goodnight on the lips.
"Non," Fleur chuckled as she began to walk away, "Alzough she was ze one 'oo sent me zose strawberries!"
Hermione felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over her as Fleur continued to glide away down the hall.
Pansy sent Fleur strawberries?
How would she know that Veela loved those? How would she be able to make herself seem unthreatening and draw a notoriously untrustworthy Veela girl in?
Hermione felt like she was going to be sick. Unless this was the biggest coincidence in the world, there was really only one way that Pansy could suddenly know all that.
She suddenly flashed back to tossing her notebook and the book on Veela into the bin. She'd been so emotionally charged all she had focussed on at the time was getting rid of it all. But now she realised just how stupid she had been. She hadn't burned them or thrown them out in her bedside bin… How could she be so careless?!
"Are you okay, dear?" the Fat Lady asked from over a glass of sherry.
"Nope," Hermione replied hoarsely.