A/N: this chapter is a bit more of a plot mover, but there is still a bit of Fleurmione interaction splashed in.

Hermione didn't know what she had expected.

She sat across from McGonagall, on the other side of the elegant mahogany desk. Morning winter light was feebly shining through the window, lighting up the silver streaking McGonagall's hair.

McGonagall was leaning forward in her chair, lips pursed, hands tented in front of her. She had just patiently explained to Hermione that you simply could not risk international relations and an unbreakable magical contract over a hunch.

Hermione had just endured no less than twenty minutes of McGonagall— outraged— listing all of Moody's accolades, how highly trusted he was, how everything he set out to do was about protection, not harm. Hermione was sick of her accusations being dismissed by the man's eccentricities. Thankfully, it appeared McGonagall had realised she had made her point.

"I'm sorry Miss Granger," McGonagall said stiffly in her Scottish accent, "I have to say I am very surprised to see this kind of unfounded accusation from you! Perhaps Mr Potter is rubbing off on you…"

Hermione frowned. Sure, Harry had accused Snape of every conspiracy under the sun each year they returned to Hogwarts, but there always had been something going on. Even if they hadn't been correct in what it was.

McGonagall's face softened as she seemed to read Hermione's mind. She pushed forward a tartan biscuit tin, offering Hermione the shortbread within.

Hermione shook her head.

"I should just get to class," Hermione said, trying to keep the irritation out of her voice. She respected McGonagall, even if every fibre of her being was screaming that the Professor was wrong.

Hermione pushed her chair back with a little more force than intended, slinging her satchel over her shoulder and heading to the door of the office.

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione stopped. She was too annoyed to turn around to face the professor, instead staring intently at an old black and white photo of a quidditch team waving at her from the wall.

"Yes Professor?"

"I'm a big believer in gut instinct," McGonagall said firmly, "If you do come across any solid, irrefutable evidence that someone is tampering with the tournament, let me know."

"Of course, Professor," Hermione replied, narrowing her eyes at the quidditch photo.

"And please refrain from snooping around Alastor Moody," McGonagall replied, "His security consciousness sometimes borders on… dangerous."

"Right," Hermione replied flatly. Because of course wildly dangerous security measures weren't a red flag. Sometimes Hermione couldn't believe this school.

Fleur Delacour pushed her gluey cereal around her bowl listlessly. She wished they would put more fruit and nuts out with the breakfast spread. Instead there was nothing but pastries, sausages, bacon, breads, baked beans… Cereal was the lightest item on offer that morning.

Giving up on the unappealing meal, Fleur instead turned her attentions to the black coffee in front of her. It was the one thing she had to hand to Hogwarts; they did make great coffee.

Julie and the other Beauxbatons girls were talking animatedly beside her, though Fleur couldn't follow the conversation. Her mind was a million miles away.

Her mind was flitting between the dangers that Viktor and her were trying to prepare for and the suspicions surrounding Moody. But mostly… Her mind kept replaying warm brown eyes staring at her like she was the only person in the world. The firm grip on her arm holding her close. The intensity and concern in those brown eyes.

Fleur bit her lip, willing her heart to stop racing. She looked up, as casually as possible, noting that Hermione was still absent from the Gryffindor table. The first classes of the morning were about to start. It seemed strange for Hermione to skip breakfast entirely considering both Ron and a very rattled Harry were in attendance.

"Shall we head off to class?" Julie murmured in Fleur's ear, startling the blonde out of her thoughts.

Julie chuckled lightly at Fleur's jumpiness.

"A little tense after having to reject no less than six of these irritating Hogwarts boys this morning?" Julie teased.

A number of boys caught in her thrall had pestered her. Fleur, even more temperamental with everything on her mind, had been rather snappy in rejecting them.

"Something like that," Fleur muttered. She had told Julie a little about her fears surrounding the second task. But she hadn't told Julie about the previous evening with Viktor and Hermione. Julie still harboured feelings for her and as good-natured as she was, was obviously a little jealous and hurt by the rumours Skeeter peddled.

Before the girls could get up from the table, four large owls burst into the Great Hall, screeching and making a large fuss. It was well after the usual time for owls and mail to arrive, which garnered the attention of many curious students.

The owls circled the Hall dramatically, before parting and arcing towards the four different House tables. An owl landed in front of Viktor at the Slytherin table, knocking over a pumpkin juice. One thudded in front of Cedric at Hufflepuff and one in front of Harry at the Gryffindor table.

Finally, the last large owl landed directly on top of Fleur's abandoned cereal bowl, capsizing it and causing the gloopy contents to spill over Fleur's silk-skirted lap.

Fleur frowned, reaching for the letter even as Julie murmured an incantation to clean her skirt up for her. She recognised the wax seal on the letter already. Fleur's stomach was sinking so hard she feared she may throw up.

Tugging the letter from the owl and breaking the seal, Fleur's fears were confirmed.

"What is it?" Julie asked, leaning into her and looking at the letter.

"The second task…" Fleur replied numbly, "It is set down for three days from now."

Hermione wasn't surprised at Ron and Harry being late to Potions.

Hermione impatiently set out her things on the table in front of her, trying not to let the bad start to the day ruin the rest of it.

She felt a gaze on her and glanced up to see Pansy watching her across the dungeon. Pansy quickly averted her gaze and began talking animatedly to Malfoy beside her.

The dungeon door swung open and Snape glided in, dark robes flowing.

"Turn to page 327 in your books," Snape ordered abruptly, immediately sweeping over to the blackboard to write up instructions.

Hermione opened her textbook, her brow furrowing. Where were Harry and Ron?

Ten minutes passed, punctuated only by Snape's nasal and monotonous voice.

Finally, the dungeon door burst open and the boys walked in. Harry was pale, the lightning scar stark on his pallid forehead. Ron clumsily attempted to tuck his shirt in as the two boys hurried to the back of the dungeon, as if tidying his uniform would make up for their tardiness.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor," Snape announced without even turning around from the blackboard.

"Got eyes in the back of his greasy head," Ron muttered, sitting himself down beside Hermione. Harry sat on his other side.

"I can't say you don't deserve it," Hermione said haughtily, looking sideways at Ron, "Why are you two so late?"

Harry pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket, sliding it down the table to Hermione.

Hermione recognised the official coat of arms at the top of the parchment, her eyes quickly scanning the words etched below it.

"Task is in three days," Ron murmured as he pulled his textbook out, "Harry threw his guts up after he got it. I waited in the bathrooms with him 'til he was done."

"Hey!" Harry hissed, elbowing Ron.

"Nothing to be ashamed of, mate," Ron shrugged.

"Silence down there or I will deduct a further fifty points from Gryffindor!" Snape bellowed, suddenly whirling around to face the class.

Ron and Harry promptly quietened, leaving Hermione to mull over the information for the rest of the lesson.

Three days.

Three bloody days.

That wasn't a lot of time to do anything.

To prepare Harry for the task, to stop whatever sabotage may be occurring…

Hermione racked her brain. How to keep everyone safe? How to figure out the full extent of sabotage? How to stop whatever might be going on?

It was lunchtime when Hermione finally broached the subject with the boys. They were sitting in the Great Hall after eating. Harry had finally settled enough to eat some bread, determination returning to his face. This was where Harry Potter was known to thrive, acting in the moment— not planning for something far in advance.

"I think there is definitely more to the second task… I feel like it's a trap and the Champions are marching into certain harm," Hermione said bluntly, putting down her knife and fork.

"Hermione!" Ron shrieked, reminding Hermione awfully of Molly Weasley, "We only just calmed Harry down!"

"I'm not a toddler," Harry growled, "I don't need protecting or calming down. What are you talking about Hermione?"

"Fleur and Viktor firmly believe the second task is being sabotaged. I think for your own safety you should throw the task," Hermione said gravely, "I can't think of any other foolproof way to keep you alive and safe."

"I said I don't need protecting!" Harry objected, exasperated, "Fleur and Krum probably just said that to you to convince me to throw the task so they can win!"

"Harry, they're scared. Genuinely so. With only three days until the task, there's no way we can figure out exactly what is going on in time. The safest thing to do is just throw the task," Hermione replied calmly, "Just, I don't know, tread water on the surface of the lake until the time is up. You're bound by the magic contract to compete, but that doesn't mean you have to delve right into the danger."

"I'm not a little kid!" Harry said, his voice raising, "Don't you think Fleur and Krum might have an ulterior motive?!"

Others at the Gryffindor table were beginning to glance in the trio's direction.

"Fleur wouldn't lie to me," Hermione said quietly.

"She bloody would!" Harry retorted, "I can't believe you would be so daft over a bloody pretty girl! She doesn't even like you!"

Harry's words stung more than Hermione thought they could.

Harry at least had the self-awareness to stop talking after the words had left his mouth. He still looked angry, but seemed as if he regretted the jab about Fleur.

"Right," Hermione said, raising her chin, "Well, if you aren't going to do anything about this, I guess it's up to me."

Hermione got up from the table, slinging her satchel over her shoulder.

"Hermione—" Ron began.

But Hermione turned on her heel and walked out of the Hall. She avoided looking at any of the other House tables.

Hermione didn't even know where she was going. Her brilliant mind had all but seized up at the sting of Harry's words.

She doesn't even like you!

Hermione, instead of taking a left to the staircases, went right— opting to walk outside into the bleak winter. She didn't feel like talking to anyone.

Hermione pulled her robes up tightly around her, casting a warming charm. It was snowing lightly, a layer of white coating the grounds of Hogwarts. Hermione looked across the grounds at Hagrid's Hut. It looked like a small iced cake in the snow.

Her mind turned back to the time she accidentally got Fleur high. The way Fleur had kept close to her. The blonde's stoned awe over Hermione's bushy hair. The adorable way she had been scared by Crookshanks, straddling Hermione's lap to get away. How good it felt holding Fleur in her lap… The firmness but softness of the Frenchwoman…

Hermione cleared her throat, casting her eye further across the grounds in an effort to clear her mind of Fleur. There was no point allowing herself to become a hormonal teen. Not with the second task looming.

Hermione's eye caught on a familiar figure crossing the grounds rapidly, close to the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

Pansy.

Hermione, gathering her robes up, suddenly sprang to action. She hadn't been an athletic child, but Hermione knew how to hustle when it mattered.

She caught up with the Slytherin girl just as she entered the shadowy Forest. With the wintery weather, the ominous forest seemed darker than ever.

"Pansy!" Hermione called out.

Pansy jumped, whirling to face Hermione in the dim light.

"What the hell, Granger?!" Pansy snapped, "What is a goody-two-shoes like you doing following me into the Forbidden Forest?!"

"When it comes to my friends being harmed, some bending of the rules can be excused," Hermione dismissed, "What are you doing here?"

"None of your business," Pansy retorted. She turned her back on Hermione, continuing to walk deeper into the forest.

Hermione fell into step with the Slytherin, refusing to let Pansy shake her. This was the first time since the previous evening that Hermione had seen Pansy on her own.

"I wanted to talk about last night," Hermione said, "About the second task. And… Well… About this too, to be honest. What are you doing here? It's out of bounds."

"No shit," Pansy replied tartly, "And yet it hasn't stopped you from tagging along."

"You're involved, aren't you?" Hermione replied, "In rigging the competition. You and that Durmstrang boy are the ones feeding information to whoever is rigging the competition. Barty Crouch?"

"Crouch?!" Pansy retorted with a laugh, "Why would the Ministry want to rig the competition? They're loving the opportunity to suck up to the foreigners."

"He was there last night," Hermione replied, her brow furrowing with confusion.

"He definitely wasn't," Pansy laughed bitterly, "Look, I already said I was only roped into this because of my stupid parents."

"Why? What do your parents have to do with this?" Hermione asked, "And why can't you get out of it?"

"That's what I'm trying to do, if some bloody annoying cutesy Gryffindor wouldn't stop stalking me," Pansy growled, "My parents are stuck in this because of their own personal affiliations. And that's all I'm saying on that. Leave it alone, Granger."

"Cutesy?" Hermione echoed, entirely thrown.

Pansy rolled her eyes.

"Of course that's the part you fixate on," Pansy groaned, "You're almost as bad as Potty and the Weasel."

Hermione's mind was whirring, replaying the surprise kiss with Pansy in the library and the way Pansy had protected her the previous evening.

"Do you like me?!" Hermione asked suddenly.

Pansy groaned loudly.

"Can you shut up?" Pansy snapped, "I just told you I'm trying to get out of all this and all you can focus on is the fact I think you're cute."

Hermione shook her head in disbelief, walking alongside Pansy while her mind processed this new information.

The two girls stepped over the large and overgrown roots, getting deeper into the Forest now.

"Is this why you always bully me?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows.

Pansy stopped walking, turning on Hermione.

"Look, stop it!" Pansy said, throwing her hands up in frustration, "Anyone with half a brain knows you still have a massive hard-on for Delacour. I'm not trying to date a nerdy Gryffindor and I'm not here to stroke your ego."

"Pansy, what—"

"Shut up!" Pansy growled, "I need you to be quiet and stay here, okay?"

"You're… You're meeting the person to tell them you aren't helping them sabotage the tournament anymore— aren't you?" Hermione asked, her mind suddenly processing Pansy's actions of the last couple of days.

"Yes," Pansy huffed, "And if you know what's good for you, you'll stay here. You can't risk finding out who this person is and getting on their radar."

Hermione scoffed.

"And you'll stop me—"

"Petrificus totalus,"

Hermione found her words frozen as she stiffened and fell to the ground, her body rigid.

That Slytherin cow, Hermione inwardly swore.

Hermione heard the crunching of dead leaves as Pansy walked away.

Hermione silently fumed, able to do nothing but stare up at the trees above her. If looks could kill, the trees would be aflame.

Only a few seconds later, a scream rang out. Hermione heard the crunching of leaves rapidly heading towards her. She cursed her inability to move, hoping like hell this wasn't the person who was sabotaging the tournament.

"Hermione," Pansy gasped, coming into view rapidly, "We need to get out of here."

Pansy cast the counter-spell, allowing Hermione to move again. The Slytherin jerked Hermione roughly to her feet.

"What's going on?" Hermione asked, trying to hold the jumpy Slytherin still. Pansy's eyes were wide and fearful.

"Crouch— the Ministry judge for the tournament— He's dead!" Pansy stammered.

"What?!" Hermione exclaimed, "There is no way."

"There bloody is!" Pansy said, beginning to shake, "I found his body just over behind that boulder— where I was supposed to meet… Supposed to meet…"

"Supposed to meet the person you can't tell me about," Hermione replied flatly.

Hermione withdrew her wand.

"W-What are you doing?" Pansy stuttered.

"Going to see for myself," Hermione replied, wand out, "Besides, if it's just a dead body, it can't hurt me, can it?"

Hermione crunched through the dead leaves, stepping carefully over tree roots and rocks. She heard Pansy call out her name again fearfully.

Hermione swallowed heavily, suddenly wondering when Harry had rubbed off on her as she stepped around the boulder in question.

Nothing.

Nothing but a small chicken bone.

It was mysterious, really.

The entire walk back to the castle, Pansy insisted that she had seen what she said she saw. Hermione believed her. She wasn't sure someone could fake that level of fear. The usually smug raven-haired girl had been trembling even once they had got inside and out of the cold weather.

Pansy believed that the person setting up the tournament had left the body there as a message for her. A message threatening her not to try to get out.

As such, she had entirely buttoned up on releasing further details.

In fact, as soon as the girls had returned to the castle, Pansy left Hermione and rushed off, pale. Crush or no crush, Pansy was now too afraid to tell Hermione a thing.

Hermione sat through the rest of her classes in a daze, barely taking anything in.

A dead body.

Who had killed Barty Crouch?

Why?

How had they got rid of the body again in the short space between Pansy seeing it and Hermione seeing it?

Had the body just been some kind of magical illusion, that only Pansy could have seen?

How could anyone prove what had happened? Hermione felt as if she had fallen into some alternative dimension, where she was suddenly the one insisting that people believe her wild accusations and everyone else was demanding the cold, rational evidence.

Hermione rubbed at her eye with the heel of her hand as she left her last class of the day. She successfully dodged Harry and Ron — No doubt they just wanted to clear the air between Harry and Hermione after lunch.

But there were more pressing matters at hand for Hermione than mending bridges with Harry just now. Number one was finding a way to stop the second task. If whoever was tampering with the tournament was bold enough to kill a Ministry official — or at least make it appear as if they had — this was far more dire than Hermione had initially feared.

She headed to the library, her usual sanctuary when she had problems.

Everything going on came back to the same issue — no evidence.

Hermione was powerless to bring attention to a thing without evidence.

She found herself at her usual table, head in her hands, trying to think of something, anything that could stop the tournament.

"'Ermione?"

Hermione looked up, smiling hollowly at the small Veela girl standing at the end of her table.

"Hi, Gabrielle," Hermione said weakly.

"Are you okay?" Gabrielle asked, cocking her head to one side adorably, "You look all pale and upset."

"Just a rough day," Hermione said slowly, forcing another smile.

"I 'aven't seen you for a while," Gabrielle commented, hoisting herself into a chair beside Hermione, "I zought you and Fleur were friends again."

"We are friends… Ish," Hermione sighed, "Is she doing okay?"

"She is always wiz Viktor," Gabrielle replied, scrunching her face up, "'E is not so friendly."

"And how are you?" Hermione asked, changing the subject, "Anything exciting going on with you?"

"Oh! Oui 'Ermione!" Gabrielle replied, bouncing up and down excitedly before her face fell, "But I cannot tell you."

Hermione's infamous curiosity was piqued and she turned to the small blonde child.

"You can tell me anything, you know," Hermione told Gabrielle.

Gabrielle looked around her in an almost comical way, before leaning forward in a conspiratorial way.

"Madame Maxime says zat for ze second task when ze Champions must rescue someone close to zem… I 'ave been selected to be Fleur's special person!" Gabrielle was practically jiggling with excitement.

Hermione's stomach sank in horror.

"You… You're going to be involved in the second task too?" Hermione asked, swallowing heavily.

"Oui!" Gabrielle grinned widely, "But you didn't 'ear it from me!"

"Of course not," Hermione said weakly, staring off into space.

The clocks were churning ever closer to the second task, and it seemed like every hour that passed more and more people were being roped into danger.

Hermione exhaled heavily, her shoulders slumping.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Gabrielle asked sweetly.

Hermione nodded, though she felt sick inside.

"So, uh, Viktor isn't so friendly, huh?" Hermione asked, trying to force a smile again.

Gabrielle shook her head.

"Non, he is so cold and un-talkative," Gabrielle pouted.

"But at least Fleur seems to like him, yeah?" Hermione responded.

"She never looks at 'im as much as she looks at you," Gabrielle muttered, "I'm glad zose rumours in ze paper about Fleur dating Viktor are not true."

"What?" Hermione felt sudden flurry of butterflies at the mention of Fleur looking at her.

"Ze rumours," Gabrielle insisted, "You must know. Zat lady always puts zings in ze paper."

"Skeeter…" Hermione said slowly, her mind suddenly whirring into action, "Yes… She does always put everything in the paper…"

Fleur was clicking her way to the Hogwarts library after dinner.

Her heels echoed loudly on the cold stone floors of the Hogwarts halls. She preferred the evenings. Less students were around, which meant less pesky boys staring at her or making forward remarks.

Two days until the second task.

Viktor and Fleur had crammed all the previous day. But today, Viktor had locked himself up in the Durmstrang ship, not even leaving for classes. Fleur was left to the Beauxbatons girls, whose over-confident insincere encouragement did nothing to help her.

Julie wasn't so bad. But Fleur couldn't take seeing the worry in her best friend's face.

So she was going to the library solo tonight.

She shivered against the cold in the hallways. It had been almost unbearable crossing the grounds from the Carriage to the castle, even with warming charms and Hermione's scarf wrapped tightly around her neck. The damned Veela blood running through her veins was making the cold that much more excruciating for her.

It seemed so unfair. There was almost zero chance that she would be able to last long in the iciness of the Black Lake.

A door ahead of Fleur in the hallway rattled, causing the blonde to halt in her steps. The door opened slowly and Rita Skeeter emerged, stuffing an acid green quill into her crocodile purse.

"Well, I can't say much for your sour attitude, but that was a very valuable scoop, dear," Rita was saying, before spotting Fleur and smiling widely.

Fleur's eyes were on the brunette that was emerging from the room behind the toxic journalist— one Hermione Granger. Fleur was stunned.

"Well, hello Miss Delacour," Rita grinned predatorily, "I just got one hell of a story— but if you'd like to give me a quote about your relationship with Viktor Krum, I'm sure our readers will also enjoy that!"

"I'm not in a relationship with Viktor," Fleur replied flatly, her eyes not leaving Hermione.

"You know a smart girl would capitalise on her fifteen minutes of fame, darling," Rita advised rudely, before smiling sweetly, "Until next time sweethearts!"

As Rita primly walked away, Fleur narrowed her eyes at Hermione.

"What were you doing with her?" Fleur asked.

This was her worst fear. That she had let someone close to her, though fleetingly, and they turned out to be morally corrupt. A part of her didn't believe that Hermione was capable of something like that, with her sweet smile and warm eyes, but Fleur couldn't deny what she had just witnessed. Was Hermione the one feeding ludicrous rumours to Rita Skeeter?!

"It doesn't matter," Hermione deflected, "What are you doing here?"

"Going to the library," Fleur replied, crossing her arms tightly across her chest. She tapped one of her heels impatiently on the stone floor, continuing to meet Hermione's gaze.

Hermione sighed, kicking the stone floor awkwardly.

"Fleur, I can't tell you about what just happened with Skeeter," Hermione said, frowning, "But I promise it was for the best."

"Your opinion of what is for the best, or what is actually for the best?" Fleur asked, raising an eyebrow.

Hermione stepped forward then, looking at Fleur with those eyes that could break her heart into a million pieces.

Hermione looked down, seeming nervous for a second, before looking back at Fleur. She boldly reached forward, placing her hands on Fleur's elbows. Fleur's arms twitched, but she made no move to stop the brunette.

"I know Gabrielle is wrapped up in the second task too," Hermione said softly, "I don't want her to get hurt. I don't want Harry to get hurt."

Hermione bit her lip, looking deeply into Fleur's eyes. Fleur felt rooted to the spot, like she couldn't move away even if she wanted to.

"I don't want you to get hurt," Hermione added quietly.

Fleur's chest ached. She longed to uncross her arms and pull Hermione into an embrace. But she couldn't excuse the fact that Hermione had hidden awful things from her: the research project, the fact she had kissed Pansy, and now this clandestine meeting with Rita Skeeter.

"I won't," Fleur retorted with false confidence. She pulled herself out of Hermione's grasp. Though her body inwardly protested at the loss of touch, she took a step back from the brunette.

"Fleur… I'm trying to protect you," Hermione said, her voice low, "I… I care about you."

"You have a funny way of showing it," Fleur replied. She turned her gaze from Hermione to look pointedly down the hall in the direction of the library.

"I didn't kiss Pansy!" Hermione blurted suddenly, "She kissed me… I— She has a crush on me."

Fleur returned her gaze to Hermione, searching her face for any sign of truth. But then it wasn't like she could read Hermione terribly well. Hermione seemed to sense how unsure Fleur was.

"I… I know I've messed up…" Hermione said sheepishly, "But I really do care about you, Fleur. I'd do anything to make things up to you."

"Including meeting with Rita Skeeter?" Fleur replied, arching an eyebrow.

"That will make sense, I swear," Hermione said quickly, raising her hands defensively, "She only takes leads from sources that will meet her in person. If this works — and I hope to Merlin it will— then hopefully this will protect you, even if only for a little longer."

Fleur stared at Hermione, wondering what she was up to. But then the reminder that Gabrielle was at stake in the second task spiked her anxiety again.

"I should study… For the task," Fleur said firmly.

It was too easy to get lost in Hermione's promises and her warm features. She needed to focus.

Hermione nodded, looking a little disappointed.

Julie knocked insistently at Fleur's door.

She had a copy of the Daily Prophet tucked under her arm and concern etched across her pretty features. She had pulled her smooth raven hair carelessly back into a low bun, all thoughts of appearance cast to the side with her need to talk to Fleur.

Julie felt the familiar surge of electricity from her toes to her wrists as she knocked again. She always felt a tingle when she was about to see Fleur. Julie ignored it.

It wasn't fair, really.

All she wanted, with every fibre of her being, was to just be able to hold Fleur's hand again. To embrace her in bed each night as they fell asleep. To kiss those soft, angelic lips.

She'd known it was foolish to develop feelings. They'd always been so up front about it being 'just fun' and a bit of comfort.

And dammit if she hadn't had her heart broken by the most gracious girl.

Fleur seemed to put the same energy she put into preparing for the tournament as she did into treading lightly around Julie's feelings. Though she shivered, she never asked Julie to cuddle her, even though they both knew it would soothe her and make her feel better. She hadn't called Julie to her room to stay the night at all. Yet she had still been as sweet and attentive as a friend. It almost splintered Julie's heart more. It would have been easier to deal with her rejected feelings if Fleur had been a jerk about it.

Of course that wasn't really the most painful part. The most painful part was the way her heart would feel as if it were slowly tearing every time she caught Fleur looking at Hermione Granger. Though Fleur lost trust in people easily, and was slow to forgive, it was undeniable that the blonde was drawn to the brunette.

And judging by the frequent looks snuck Fleur's way from the Gryffindor table, the bushy-haired brunette felt the same way.

It was only a matter of time until Fleur's feelings were pushed far enough that it overcame her defense mechanisms.

Julie wasn't sure how she would handle it.

She'd always imagined it would be her.

After all, wasn't she the one who had holidayed with Fleur and her family?

The one who had taken Fleur's virginity?

The only one who had seen the way Apolline spoke to Fleur behind closed doors and had held Fleur extra tight that night to keep the tears at bay?

Julie opened the door and felt her stomach flip at the tousle-haired teen goddess sitting up in bed groggily. Even in an old sweater and bundled up in blankets, Fleur looked stunning.

Julie swallowed hard and ignored her feelings. She focussed on the issue at hand.

"Fleur! Of all the days to sleep in!" Julie exclaimed, "You have to see this! Maxime is losing it!"

Before Fleur could protest, Julie leapt into the bed beside her, nestling up to her and handing her the paper. She ignored the flood of memories that rushed through her senses at being close to Fleur in her bed. Instead she watched the blonde, now alert, read the article.

"TRIWIZARD SECOND TASK REVEALED: By Rita Skeeter"

"She leaked the task," Fleur exclaimed, reading the large article.

"In incredible detail— exactly what the golden eggs sung, that Gabrielle was to be your prize— everything. She even interviewed an adventure sport specialist about possible tactics, a zoologist about all the living creatures that could be present in the Black Lake and a herbologist about the plant life that could be down there. Even a half-wit could muddle their way through the task now."

From the article, it appeared Skeeter really had done some extreme digging. A large number of options were explored— various methods of breathing underwater (gillyweed, bubble head charms and a rare powder were especially featured) as well as how to combat various creatures and plants. Rita had spared no expense in calling on experts as to the best strategies and options.

Fleur let out a low whistle.

"She might be a terrible person, but she sure does know how to actually investigate when she pulls her attention away from peddling rumours," Fleur said, shaking her head.

There was a loud slamming on Fleur's door.

"Maxime," Julie cried, leaping out of the bed, "I'm telling you Fleur, she is really worked up about this."

The doorframe splintered before the door was pushed in, wrenched clean off its hinges. Madame Maxime ducked to get through the doorway before filling the room with her large presence.

"Miss Delacour, what on Earth have you been telling reporters?!" Maxime bellowed. Fleur winced. An angry Maxime was a terrifying sight to behold.

"Nothing, Madame, I promise you!" Fleur exclaimed, sitting up straighter in her bed. She cursed her messy appearance.

"Do you know how this looks? The only prize revealed was your sister!" Maxime shouted.

"Ask the Skeeter woman, it was not me who told her the task," Fleur insisted, "I could take veritaserum and and it would not change my answer."

Maxime stood before them, chest heaving and nostrils flared as she processed Fleur's reply. Her face was red and her shoulders raised.

"Fleur would not do that— she would not risk bringing disgrace on her family by doing such a thing," Julie chimed in. Fleur shot Julie a glare, obviously trying to wordlessly get her best friend to shut up on the subject of her mother.

When Fleur looked back at Maxime, however, the large Headmistress had seemed to calm down a little. Her shoulders had lowered a little and her face wasn't quite as red.

"There is talk of cancelling the second task," Maxime confided in the girls, "Of scrapping it now so much has been ruined. A new task would be created and a new date set."

"Oh…"

No freezing cold Black Lake. No Gabrielle captive deep under the water.

"Ludo Bagman will be making an announcement later today on what they decide. Crouch was supposed to, but apparently he has gone missing. They now need to appoint a new judge!" Maxime informed them.

"That is crazy," Julie replied, "What kind of a tournament is this?!"

"You're telling me," Maxime growled, "But as long as Beauxbatons brings home the win…"

Maxime marched back out of the room, mumbling something about sending a staff member to fix Fleur's door.