A/N: A short chapter, but I got to a point where it felt right to round off the chapter. In this chapter: tension! Tension everywhere!

Chapter 13.

Hermione suffered a dreadful night's sleep. Her head was full of buzzing thoughts, each growing louder than the other.

There was something terribly off about Moody.

Harry seemed on the brink of a breakdown.

Pansy—fucking Pansy—had her hands on information about Veela and was up to something with it all.

Hermione tossed and turned so much that the white linen sheets of her bed twisted around her, feeling like suffocating binds.

Fleur…

Hermione couldn't stop her mind turning back to the blonde.

She was hooked on the feeling of getting Fleur to lower her guard. Of seeing that rare flash of vulnerability that Fleur kept carefully locked away from everyone else.

Not to mention the way Hermione's body practically set alight when Fleur was physically near. Hermione had felt ready to spontaneously combust when Fleur had kissed her cheeks in a chaste goodbye the previous evening.

Hermione felt like rubbish as the sun rose over Hogwarts, beaming bright sunlight through the tower windows. She sat up and rubbed her bleary eyes, tiredly disentangling herself from the twisted sheets.

She could already hear Lavender and Parvati up and about, loudly discussing their skincare routines and how they were planning to wear their hair that day. It was already giving her a headache.

Hermione didn't complain though, she had enough on her plate without getting in a disagreement with her dorm-mates.

Hermione felt like her arms and legs were made of lead as she pulled on her uniform, fumbling with the top button.

She was still tying her tie up as she hopped out of the portrait-hole and headed down to the Great Hall. Knowing Ron and his appetite, the boys would have headed directly to breakfast.

Hermione was so engrossed in getting the knot right in her tie that she didn't even notice the sound of wood on stone until Mad-Eye Moody had fallen into step beside her. Hermione felt her body instantly tense up.

Once again, the hallway was almost entirely deserted for their encounter, Hermione stuck halfway between the Gryffindor tower and the Great Hall.

"Granger," Moody grunted.

He was looking a lot healthier than the last time Hermione had seen him—Healthier for a grizzled and deeply battle damaged ex-Auror, anyway. The pale sweats were gone and his glass eye looked more secure in its socket as it rolled around.

"Professor," Hermione replied guardedly. She didn't want another one of his intense and unsettling conversations to arise in the short walk to the Great Hall this morning.

"I wanted to apologise for last night," Moody said gruffly, staring straight ahead as he clunked along beside her, "I, er, feeling very unwell and shouldn'tve taken it out on you and your friend."

"Ah, that's okay," Hermione replied awkwardly. She sped up her walking pace slightly, wanting to get back to the comforts of being around other students.

"I was just worried about Potter, you know, being so young and inexperienced for such a dangerous Tournament," Moody explained, "It came out all wrong with how unwell I was feeling. Please pass on my apology to your friend, Delacour."

"Er, right," Hermione replied. They had turned a corner and now she could see the Entrance Hall in the distance. She was so close. "Well, I hope you're feeling better now, Professor."

"I am," Moody replied, keeping pace with Hermione easily, "But do help your friend, Granger."

Hermione could practically feel the knots of tension coiling in her back as Moody clapped her on the shoulder before lumbering off ahead of her. They'd reached the Entrance Hall. Hermione stood still, allowing Moody to get far, far ahead of her. The less one-on-ones she had with him, the better.

Her eyes almost instantly drifted to the Ravenclaw table as she walked into the Great Hall. She could see a small group of Beauxbatons girls near the end of the table. Fleur was not among them.

"Looking for Fleur?"

Hermione jumped at the voice right in her ear.

Julie sidled up to her, grinning.

"I was just looking around," Hermione deflected.

Julie grinned wider.

"Relax, I know what it is like to want Fleur, remember?" Julie said reassuringly, "Now… I 'ear you can understand French?"

"Er, yes," Hermione admitted. It appeared Fleur had filled Julie in on that particular revelation.

Julie looked almost as embarrassed as Fleur.

"Oh… Ah… We've been quite free in what we discuss in French," Julie said weakly.

"I noticed," Hermione said, quirking an eyebrow.

There was a small pause between them before Julie laughed lightly.

"Well, zat is embarrassing," Julie shrugged, "But I am not as embarrassed as Fleur!"

"She's embarrassed?" Hermione asked. She felt a little bad at that. She'd worried that would happen when she admitted her comprehension of French.

Julie pursed her bright pink lips, seeming to deeply consider what she was going to say in response.

She hummed lightly, grinning puckishly for a moment.

"Well… She is embarrassed easily in front of you," Julie said finally, winking at Hermione.

Hermione opened her mouth to reply but Julie swept away coyly, taking away any chance for Hermione to continue the conversation.

Hermione gaped after the girl for a moment before bursting into a dumb, goofy grin.

Fleur was easily embarrassed in front of her.

Thoughts of how awful Moody was had entirely been banished from her mind. Because Fleur was easily embarrassed in front of her.

Hermione practically floated over to the Gryffindor table. She sat down beside Ginny, across from Ron and Harry.

She was wrenched back to her senses as she saw Harry was still looking quite pale and tired.

"How's it going?" Hermione asked cautiously. The Weasleys both grunted in response, deeply engrossed in their breakfasts. Harry pushed around some baked beans with his fork.

"Better, not great," Harry groaned, his eyes downcast.

"Harry, we're going to find a way for you to breathe underwater, I know it," Hermione reassured.

As she ate her own breakfast, her mind rolled over the problem at hand. She hadn't heard of any spells that could make someone breathe underwater—yet. All she could think of was Muggle scuba gear, but she doubted that would be allowed or functional on the grounds of Hogwarts.

She had heard of charms to protect against certain types of harm—such as a fireproof charm. Surely there would be one to protect against drowning.

Hermione's brown eyes flicked up to follow the movements of the students across the hall. A gaggle of Slytherins had got up and were making their way out of the hall in drips and drabbles of emerald green.

Hermione's eyes narrowed as she remembered the Pansy issue. She felt the flame of rage reignited within her.

Hermione tossed down the last corner of her toast, grabbing her bag quickly.

"I'll see you guys in class," Hermione muttered, leaping out of her seat. She had just caught a sleek dark bob trailing behind the other Slytherins.

It turned out Hermione needn't have worried about catching up to Pansy. She had barely made it around the first corner of the hallways to the dungeons before she was grabbed and roughly pushed against a wall.

Dazed, Hermione found herself staring into intense grey eyes. Pansy was glaring at her, holding her against the stone wall by the shoulders.

"Why did you get Delacour to stop English lessons with me?" Pansy demanded.

Hermione snorted in response. The nerve.

"Maybe because whatever you're up to, it's messed up?" Hermione shot back.

"It's not a crime to want to get closer to Delacour," Pansy sneered, leaning further into Hermione.

Hermione was inwardly glad nobody else had headed down the hallway. The position they were in would probably appear a little compromising.

"You don't want to get closer to her, you want to… Collar her and stuff," Hermione retorted, mumbling the latter part of her sentence.

Pansy raised an eyebrow, suddenly smirking.

"Who says that's a bad thing? Plenty of people are into that if it's consensual," Pansy said suggestively.

Hermione, to her embarrassment, blushed and looked away.

"You're such a prude," Pansy sneered.

"Shut up," Hermione snapped, remembering why she had chased Pansy down in the first place, "I know you have my book and my notes. Give them back."

"I don't think I have the foggiest as to what you are on about," Pansy said, smiling broadly.

Hermione glared at her, trying to wriggle free. Parkinson had a surprisingly strong hold.

"You know what I'm talking about," Hermione said, struggling harder, "The strawberries, making her trust you…"

Pansy pushed herself harder against Hermione, fully pinning her against the wall. She grinned villainously.

"Has it occurred to you that maybe I'm just charming?" Pansy challenged.

Hermione snorted again.

"Why are you even bothering? I remember what you said about her—you don't see her as an equal," Hermione growled.

"Doesn't mean she isn't hot," Pansy sneered, "Besides, it bothers you a lot… Which makes it even more entertaining for me."

"Bitch," Hermione cursed. She wasn't usually partial to swearing, but Pansy got under her skin like few other people could.

"Better than a Gryffindor with a hero complex," Pansy shot back hotly.

"Better than a Slytherin out to ruin lives," Hermione volleyed back.

Expecting Pansy to continue exchanging barbs, Hermione was entirely caught offguard when Pansy lurched forward, pressing her lips against her own.

"Mmmf-?!"

Pansy pulled away abruptly, releasing Hermione. She had a mortified look on her face.

"What the—" Hermione began, before getting cut off.

"That never fucking happened," Pansy snapped.

"What—Why—Did you—Do you like me?!" Hermione stammered. She was not often lost for words, but she felt like reality had just taken a wild tilt.

"Of course not!" Pansy spat back, "Shut up and never talk about this again!"

Pansy turned on her heel swiftly, marching off down the hallway as fast as she could.

Hermione leaned against the wall, utterly confused and a little dazed.

She stayed there until a few Gryffindors rounded the corner, on their way to their morning Potions class in the dungeons.

Harry and Ron walked up to her.

"What happened to you?" Ron asked casually, nodding at her, "You look like you've run into another troll in a bathroom."

"Something like that," Hermione muttered, dazed.

Pansy wasn't in Potions that morning.

Nor in Care of Magical Creatures.

But Hermione was quite relieved about it. She was still entirely confused by what had happened by the time she made it to the library that evening.

Harry was going to join Hermione later in the evening to look for water-breathing spells. In the meantime, Hermione was hoping that… Yes.

As she slipped behind all the bookshelves hiding her favourite study place, she came across Fleur.

Fleur was sitting patiently at the table, books ready and waiting in front of her.

She was looking beautiful in the warm light of the library, her white-blonde hair glittering and showcasing its silvery quality. She was shivering in her blue satin uniform. While it clung to her quite deliciously (in Hermione's opinion), it was terribly impractical for the castle. Let alone for a girl that was predisposed to hating the cold.

If Julie or one of her other Beauxbatons friends were here, Fleur at least would have someone to sit closely with for warmth.

Or I could be the one she sits close to for warmth… Hermione thought to herself.

She slipped into the seat beside Fleur, bold enough to sit close, but shy enough not to sit too close.

"So, uh, you want to continue our lessons?" Hermione asked, inwardly berating herself for stating the obvious. Why did pretty girls make her brain turn to mush?

Fleur smiled politely at her, nodding cautiously.

"Oui—yes, if that is okay by you," Fleur answered, "I have been practising."

She pronounced the 'h' on 'have' incredibly carefully. She looked like she was focussing hard.

Hermione felt herself inwardly swoon.

"Er—okay," Hermione said, averting her eyes for a moment and rubbing the back of her neck. She could feel a slight blush in her cheeks. Something about Fleur studying really hard to perfect the language was just very attractive to her.

"We can practice conversations again?" Fleur suggested. She shivered a little and Hermione repressed the urge to put an arm around the blonde.

"Sure," Hermione said, smiling a little.

"Where did you grow up, Hermione?" Fleur asked carefully, focusing on enunciating each word.

"A small town not far from London," Hermione answered, "Quite boring really. How about you?"

"Marseille," Fleur answered, barely taking a beat to register the question, "It is a beautiful place in the South of France. Do you have any siblings?"

"No, I'm an only child," Hermione said, smiling warmly, "Growing up I always wanted a little brother or sister… But now I have Harry and Ron! They're pretty much brothers. What about you? Any siblings other than Gabrielle?"

"Non—Er, no," Fleur corrected quickly, remedying her instinctive return to her native tongue. Hermione didn't mind. She quite liked hearing Fleur talk in French.

"'Ow did—ugh – How did you find school before Hogwarts?" Fleur asked, wincing as she missed the 'h' pronunciation at first, "I heard you're a Muggleborn. Life must have been different."

"Don't be so hard on yourself with the pronunciation," Hermione said, moving closer and putting a hand on Fleur's shoulder. She kept it there as she answered Fleur's question.

"Life was quite different," Hermione answered, "Not just because of the magic thing. But…" Hermione sighed, "I didn't really have any friends back then. Nobody at my school wanted to be friends with the bushy haired, bossy, know-it-all."

Hermione couldn't look at Fleur's face as she answered.

She almost jumped as she felt Fleur's soft hand come to place itself on top of her own.

"Well, zey did not know what zey were missing," Fleur answered softly, "And… Your hair is quite cute."

"Cute?" Hermione snapped her head back to look at Fleur so fast that it cricked.

Fleur smiled softly and looked down, before resetting her aloof expression. She looked up and swallowed.

"My schooling was quite lonely too," Fleur told Hermione, "At least once my zrall began to come in. It takes people a while to get used to it, you know? Girls hated ze attention always being on me at school and boys acted strangely. Awful."

"But Beauxbatons is better?" Hermione asked. She was intensely aware that her hand was still on Fleur's shoulder, Fleur's hand on top of it. Her skin was so soft. A little cold though. Hermione wanted nothing more than to wrap Fleur up in her arms and warm her up. She resisted.

"It is," Fleur smiled warmly, seeming to lean in a little closer to Hermione, "Most people are used to ze zrall," Fleur winced, "Hermione, can you teach me how to say 'th' properly?"

"Ah, sure," Hermione said slowly, finding herself leaning in a little more too.

It was so easy to get lost in Fleur's deep sapphire eyes.

"How do I do it?" Fleur asked Hermione.

"You, ah," Hermione cleared her throat. Her mouth was suddenly dry, "You put your tongue to your teeth and push air against it. Like this."

She opened her mouth a little, showing Fleur where she placed her tongue against her front teeth.

Fleur's eyes dropped to her mouth. Hermione wondered if she imagined seeing Fleur's pupils dilate a little.

Hermione swallowed heavily.

"Ah, you try," Hermione encouraged.

"Tttthhhh…" Fleur tried, spreading her full lips open a little as she tried. Hermione could see the small pink tip of her tongue protruding a little past her perfect white teeth. She tried not to stare too intensely.

"That's… Uh… That's really good," Hermione murmured. Her eyes flicked back up to Fleur's sapphire ones, before flicking back down to Fleur's full lips. She subconsciously wet her own lips with her tongue.

"Really good?" Fleur echoed. Hermione's eyes flicked back up to meet the blonde's. Fleur's eyes seemed a little glazed. She almost seemed entranced. Fleur moved forward a little more and Hermione could feel short soft breaths brushing against her face.

Hermione, her careful self restraint beginning to slip and fray, began to lean in a little too.

A throat cleared nearby and the two girls separated abruptly, Fleur looking away with a light blush on her cheeks. She seemed to be inspecting a nearby bookcase with a curious intensity.

Hermione, on the other hand, flustered as hell, turned to the source of the noise.

Harry was standing nearby, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Er, we said we would study together tonight?" Harry said questioningly, his green eyes moving to Fleur, "But if you're busy…"

"Non," Fleur said suddenly, standing up abruptly, "We were just finishing."

"Fleur—" Hermione started, but Fleur hushed her with a raised hand. The blonde packed her books into her satchel with lightning speed.

"I, ah, have Tournament preparations to attend to, anyway," Fleur said, without looking directly at Hermione, "Bonsoir!"

With that, Fleur swept away, leaving nothing but the lingering scent of her expensive perfume in the air.

Harry awkwardly stepped forward, taking Fleur's now-vacant seat.

"Are you sure this is a good time?" Harry said, before leaning forward, "What was going on there, huh?"

Hermione shook her head, trying to dispel her now-spiked sexual frustration. Damn hormones.

"I have no clue," Hermione answered honestly, "But let's not waste time on my failing love-life. Let's start looking for magic that can help you breathe underwater. I'll start with Charms, you start with Transfiguration."

"Deal," Harry replied.

They were in for a long night.