Hermione stood beside Ron, scowling at a spot on the wall behind his head.
"Look, would you rather practise with me? Or with Neville?" Ron said, scratching at his patchy attempt at a moustache.
The Gryffindors were standing around awkwardly in pairs at Professor McGonagall's instruction, attending their mandatory dance practise for the ball. Hermione was more than miffed. She hated practising with Ron— they kept stepping on each other's feet and both trying to lead.
"I'd rather practise with a girl since I'm taking one to the dance," Hermione replied waspishly, "I need to know how to lead."
"Well, Lavender and Parvati didn't want either of us as practise partners," Ron replied defensively, before rolling his eyes, "We didn't even stand on their feet that much."
"Overdramatic," Hermione agreed darkly, "The both of them. Okay, let's try again. You can have a go at leading this time and then we can swap."
Ron furrowed his eyebrows as he attempted to do the dance steps and not step on Hermione's feet. Hermione set her jaw as she focussed as hard as she could. She definitely couldn't keep stepping on feet if she was going to dance with Fleur at the Yule Ball. The girl was elegance personified— it wouldn't do for Hermione to be stumbling on her.
"Okay, I think we're getting there," Hermione said optimistically, a few minutes later, after deciding to count the steps out loud.
"One-two— erm," Ron stumbled, narrowly avoiding stepping on Hermione's toes.
"Right, now we swap," Hermione insisted, "I'll lead. One-two-three, one-two-three…"
This attempt went better than the one before it, with Ron and Hermione falling into an okay, if not uneasy, dance.
"I think I'm going to take Padma from Ravenclaw to the ball," Ron told Hermione victoriously, "Only had to throw Harry in with the offer. He's going with Parvati."
"Makes sense, given Cho is still with Cedric," Hermione mused aloud.
Ron gave a lopsided grin.
"He still gave it a crack though," Ron replied, "And asked Cho. She said no, naturally. But you've gotta admire the balls on him to ask."
"Well, leaping into scary situations has never been a weakness of his," Hermione replied diplomatically. Harry was thankfully absent from the lesson, required at another press event for the Champions. He was to join a different dance lesson later in the week to make up for his absence.
Things were still tense between Harry and Hermione, and only seemed to be getting worse. Every time Harry saw Hermione with Fleur, he scowled, as if doubling down on his opinion that Hermione had changed.
Hermione thought she had changed, a bit. But not for the worse— the old Hermione was so impatient and would have written off Fleur before ever bothering to get to know her. Being with Fleur was broadening her horizons and giving her a patience she had sorely needed.
Hermione rather thought Harry was overreacting. He still didn't look like he was sleeping well, and seemed to fly off the handle more and more with others around the castle, even having got in a physical altercation with Malfoy earlier in the week.
Ron seemed to remember something, missing a dance step, before fixing Hermione with a serious look.
"Oh, I almost entirely forgot to mention," Ron said, falling slightly out of rhythm, "Harry's been having his nightmares again."
"He's been having them on and off for a while," Hermione replied, wondering where Ron was going with this, given his unusually serious expression, "Does he need to talk about it?"
"That's the thing," Ron said, before Hermione inadvertently stepped on his toes, "Ouch—Hermione! Anyway, that's the thing— turns out he's been turning to old Mad Eye Moody for help with his nightmares and on the tournament. Says he lets him stand on his own two feet, and that we don't."
"Oh, if that isn't the biggest pile of rubbish I've ever heard!" Hermione snapped, releasing Ron and ending the dance.
"Miss Granger," McGonagall warned in her thick Scottish brogue, "Back to the dance with Mr Weasley, please."
Hermione, nodding absently and taking Ron's hand and shoulder again, returned to their awkward dance.
"Yeah, I tried to talk to him about it," Ron said uncomfortably, "About all the concerns you have about Moody. But he got so angry… I worried he was about to give me the cold shoulder too."
"And then we wouldn't have either of us close enough to him to keep an eye on him," Hermione surmised, "Wise move, Ron. But we have to do something."
Ron and Hermione bumped into Lavender and Dean Thomas, before careening off chaotically towards a wall— both trying to lead at the same time.
"Dunno what, though," Ron replied, as they narrowly swerved to miss the wall, "Hard to convince him not to trust an ex-Auror from the Order when there's no solid proof."
"Proof… Yeah…" Hermione repeated slowly, beginning to think quietly to herself.
She would find a way sooner or later to prove that there was something to Moody's suspicious nature.
"How was dance practise?" Fleur asked, nestling in to Hermione at lunch.
Once again, there seemed to be an array of Veela-specific delicacies only where Hermione sat. As Harry shot another glare at Fleur sitting so closely to her, Hermione resolved to visit the kitchens to ask Dobby what was going on.
In the meantime, she let her girlfriend happily binge on the irresistible treats.
"Awful," Hermione said, rolling her eyes, "Lavender and Parvati said Ron and I were too bad at dancing so we had to practise with each other."
"Oh, poor Hermione," Fleur said, running her hand through Hermione's curls, though she was laughing.
Ginny, sitting across from the two of them, glowered.
"At least you get to go to the ball," Ginny said darkly, "Dean has only gone and decided he's back with Lavender, so that's my opportunity gone."
"There's plenty of people in my year and up that are still free," Hermione counselled, "Besides, I'm sure you won't be the only one in your year that misses out."
"I bloody will be!" Ginny replied, stabbing a lettuce leaf violently, "Harry has a partner! Even Luna has a partner!"
After mentioning both the friends Hermione was sure Ginny harboured some kind of attraction towards, Hermione suppressed a smile.
"So Harry's going with Parvati," Hermione replied, "Who's Luna going with? A Ravenclaw from my year?"
Ginny scowled at the lettuce before stabbing it more forcefully.
"That's the truly unbelievable part about it," Ginny growled, "She's only gone and agreed to go with Pansy bloody Parkinson!"
Hermione paused in her eating at that, her eyes immediately snapping over to the Slytherin table. Pansy was sitting alone, casually eating her salad. Her hair was impeccable, her makeup was not out of place. The only thing odd was that she was sitting a little separately to the other Slytherins, dining off on her own at the end of the table.
"Strange," Hermione commented aloud.
"Mental," Ginny concurred, still annoyed at Luna attending the ball with the Slytherin.
"Would you rather go sit and have lunch with Pansy and talk to her about the ball?" Fleur asked dangerously, bringing Hermione's attention back to her girlfriend. She looked at Fleur and saw a worrying flash of jealousy in her azure eyes.
"Errr, not at all, Fleur," Hermione said hastily, her nervous tone earning a loud chuckle from Ginny.
"Well, that's you told, 'Mione," Ginny giggled, "That's cheered me up—seeing the bossiest girl in Hogwarts get bossed around herself."
"Hey! I am not bossy!" Hermione shot back defensively.
"You are," Ginny replied, sticking out her tongue.
"But do not worry, it is very cute," Fleur murmured quietly into Hermione's ear. Hermione blushed.
"I don't even want to know what you said to Hermione to make her blush like that," Ginny said, shaking her head.
"Get your head out of the gutter!" Hermione yelped, her blush worsening.
Fleur plucked the last of the strawberries from the bowl in front of her, smiling smugly at being able to make her girlfriend blush so easily.
"Well, I should go and talk to Julie before we have Transfiguration," Fleur said, standing up from the table, "But I will see you later, Hermione."
"Absolutely," Hermione grinned, watching her girlfriend saunter away from the Gryffindor table.
"Absolutely," Ginny mimicked, adopting a mock-lovestruck face.
"I do not sound like that," Hermione replied, crossly, turning back to the redhead across from her.
"You do a bit," Ginny chuckled, "You know… I have to take it back. Fleur isn't so bad when she warms up a bit."
"Tell Harry that," Hermione replied darkly, looking down the table at the sullen Boy Who Lived.
"He's just winding himself up," Ginny said, waving a hand dismissively, "Ron's exactly the same. Besides, it probably doesn't help seeing Fleur and you so close at the dinner table all the time."
"Yeah," Hermione said, remembering her need to visit the kitchens, "Hey, let's catch up later about your ball partner problem. I just remembered I have to do something."
Ginny nodded, sullen again at the mention of the Yule Ball. It was fast approaching and the redhead was running out of time to get a partner.
It didn't take Hermione long to get through the cold and shadowy halls to the kitchen area, which was strangely deserted. Once again, Hermione was reminded dreadfully of when she had been roaming the dark halls alone, looking around each corner for a mirror for a basilisk.
She pushed the memory out of her mind, tickling the pear on the wall. As the kitchens came into sight, so too did her eccentric elf friend.
"Hi Dobby," Hermione greeted, relieved she had immediately encountered one of the elves more likely to talk to her.
"Greetings Miss Grangey," Dobby replied, bowing so deeply his nose almost touched the stone floor, "What bringses you to the kitchens? More hot chocolate?"
"No, thanks, Dobby," Hermione replied, casting a glance at the other house elves busy bustling around the kitchen. They really did work in appalling conditions— but that was a fight she would continue later.
"What brought on the Veela food at the Gryffindor table, and Gryffindor table alone?" Hermione asked, getting straight to the point. She found her hand on her hip without realising how it got there, before frowning at the memory of Ginny calling her bossy.
"I don't know about Veela food, Miss Grangey," Dobby replied, "But we have been supplying you with special plates of olives, nuts and strawberries. They only appear where you sit."
Hermione was temporarily lost for words, her brows knitting together in confusion.
"At who's request?" Hermione asked.
"Why, Professor Dumblydore's!" Dobby said brightly in his squeaky little voice. His big ears flapped as he emphasised the professor's name.
A dead end. Worse than a dead end. More questions and more confusion.
"I don't get it," Hermione said forlornly, feeling even further away from answers than before, "Why would Professor Dumbledore come down to the kitchen and tell you to put food where I sit that is irresistible to Veela?"
Was Dumbledore eccentric enough to meddle in his own students' love lives? Surely not.
Dobby chuckled.
"Well of course Professor Dumblydore didn't come down here himself!" Dobby corrected, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "He was far too busy! He sent one of his staff members instead."
This had Hermione interested again.
"Who?"
"Moody," Hermione growled, sitting down in the Common Room between Ginny and Ron.
"What about him?" Ron asked through a stuffed mouth, munching on some crackers.
"Moody put the house elves up to putting food that lures Veela wherever I sit in the Great Hall," Hermione informed them, "But told them it was on Dumbledore's orders so they wouldn't get suspicious!"
"What?!" Ginny said, surprised.
"I know!" Hermione exclaimed, "Finally something solid to take to McGonagall!"
Ron choked on his crackers before swallowing heavily.
"Hold up, Hermione," Ron said, leaning forward to lean on his knees, "You're telling me you're going to go to McGonagall,"
"Of course!" Hermione replied loudly. She was really worked up about this. It creeped her out to no end thinking about Moody manipulating Fleur. He'd clearly got his hands on Hermione's Veela book and notebook.
"And you're going to tell her about this," Ron replied, deadpan.
"Yes!"
"So let me get this straight," Ron said, tenting his hands, "You're going to barge into McGonagall's office to tell her that Moody made some house elves put your girlfriend's favourite foods where you sit at the table."
"Well…" Hermione faltered.
"And that this is evidence that he is up to no good," Ron finished, staring at Hermione. Hermione scowled.
"Well, when you say it like that it doesn't sound very convincing!" Hermione retorted, crossing her arms and leaning back on the couch.
But she knew Ron was right. This was hardly the smoking gun she needed. It was just another odd piece of the puzzle when it came to Moody's behaviour.
Ginny patted Hermione on the shoulder comfortingly.
"It's okay, 'Mione," Ginny said, "We believe you that something is off, even if you sound mental."
"Er, thanks… I think…" Hermione replied, before forcing herself off the increasingly more irritating subject of Moody, "So what about your ball partner?"
Ginny groaned.
"I took matters into my own hands," Ginny frowned.
"Who's the lucky fellow?" Hermione asked, leaning forward with interest.
"Yeah, who have I got to keep a close eye on?" Ron said menacingly, though he looked more comical than scary as he cracked his knuckles in front of his patchy ginger moustache.
"I can't even say!" Ginny groaned, covering her face with both hands.
"That bad, is it?" Ron asked, furrowing his brow, "It's not a Slytherin is it?"
Ginny groaned, confirming her brother's fears.
"Ginny!" Hermione was surprised, especially given how vocal Ginny had been about Luna attending with Pansy Parkinson, "A Slytherin?!"
"It gets worse," Ginny groaned, "I just want you to know… I really didn't want to miss out on the ball. And, you know, once I get in there… I only need to do one dance with them to be polite…"
"Who is he?" Ron demanded, squaring his shoulders and standing up from the couch, "What Slytherin prick do I have to go warn to keep his hands off my sister? Don't you tell me it's Malfoy, Gin!"
Ginny slouched in her seat, her face still covered with her hands.
"I wish it was Malfoy," Ginny said darkly.
Hermione was finding the situation a mix between amusing and shocking, watching her redheaded friend squirm under the fire of questions.
"Come on, Gin," Hermione encouraged, "It can't be that bad!"
"It's Millicent Bullstrode, okay!" Ginny burst out, garnering several shocked looks from surrounding Gryffindors in the Common Room.
Ron's face went from pale shock, to bright red anger, before he suddenly dissolved into laughter.
"You're kidding!"
"I am not, Ron," Ginny snapped, "She was one of the only people who didn't have a date who was old enough to get me in. Even Neville is going with one of the Creeveys."
Hermione shot Ginny a sympathetic look. She really must have been desperate. Millicent Bullstrode had looks as unappealing as her personality. She'd been a frequent bully of Hermione's over the years. And unlike Pansy, hadn't been a very interesting rival. She was dull and unintelligent. That plus her mean streak made her incredibly unpleasant to spend any time around.
"I'm sure it won't… be that bad…" Hermione managed, though she spoke it stiffly and as if she obviously didn't believe her own words.
There sure were going to be some odd pairings at the Yule Ball. It sounded set to be a night they wouldn't forget any time soon.
Fleur scrawled her essay lazily, looking up across the table at Viktor every now and again. The Bulgarian seeker was writing a letter to his girlfriend back home. Partly because he missed her, partly because he was eager to soothe her mind against the lies that had been published about him and Fleur.
Fleur was relieved that at least Hermione new Skeeter published terrible lies. She didn't know how she would cope if she were in Viktor's position.
"I am going to get this off to the owlery," Viktor said, abruptly finishing and folding his letter in half.
"Are you sure?" Fleur asked, "It is late."
Viktor shook his head, irritated.
"I can't wait a minute longer with all the lies in the media," Viktor replied grimly, "It isn't fair on Yara. She gets enough of this type of stuff when I am on the road for quidditch."
Fleur nodded, understanding how difficult it must be for the young Seeker.
"Goodnight Viktor,"
"Goodnight Fleur."
Fleur returned to her essay, scratching down as much as she could muster on the subject of curse breaking. It was a keen interest area of hers.
Fleur hadn't been alone for long when Viktor's vacated chair squawked back on the floor and another figure dropped into it.
Sighing, Fleur raised her head to tiredly tell off another silly boy caught in the thrall.
"Pansy?" Fleur asked, baffled at the stylish Slytherin sitting at her table.
"Fleur," Pansy greeted sweetly.
"Hermione isn't here," Fleur responded flatly, narrowing her eyes at the dark haired girl. She knew Pansy harboured feelings for her girlfriend, from the way Pansy intently watched Hermione, to the way they bickered— not to mention the fact they had previously kissed.
"Relax," Pansy said, rolling her eyes, "I thought you might not be in the most receptive mood."
Pansy reached into her bag before pulling out a small container of strawberries. She opened it and set it on the table between them.
The sweet scent reached Fleur's senses instantly and she felt a wave of pleasure. The heightened Veela senses were both a blessing and a curse when it came to certain foods. Fleur instantly found her mood lifted and her hand was in the strawberry container before she could even think about resisting.
"That's a good girl," Pansy said condescendingly, smirking and crossing her legs as she leaned back in her chair.
Fleur didn't like her tone, and cast her a wary glance, though at the first taste of strawberry in her mouth, she was suitably placated.
"What do you want?" Fleur asked, in between devouring strawberries. There was no edge to her voice now. She was happy, content to snack on the strawberries and let whatever else happen around her. A warm buzz filled her body as she licked some strawberry juice off her fingers.
Pansy watched her intently for a moment, not coming out and saying what she so clearly had come to discuss. There was a twitchiness about her. A nervous energy, as though she expected someone to leap out at any moment.
Pansy reapplied her blood red lipstick with slightly trembling hands.
Fleur barely noticed, blissfully overwhelmed by the snacks provided to her.
"I came to warn you," Pansy said finally, speaking in a low voice, "I assumed you wouldn't want to listen to anything I had to say, so I had to bring the little Veela treats."
Fleur had to hand it to her, the Slytherin girl wasn't wrong. In her happy daze, she was fine to listen to whatever the raven-haired girl wanted to tell her— which definitely wasn't usually the case.
"What are you warning me about?" Fleur asked, with all the carelessness as if they were discussing quidditch scores.
"The Second Task," Pansy replied, looking about the library cautiously.
"Nobody knows what the Second Task is yet," Fleur pointed out, before pushing two strawberries into her mouth. Pansy watched her with interest.
"Not yet," Pansy conceded, "But I wanted to warn you about the day of the Second Task. Do not eat breakfast provided in the Great Hall."
Fleur almost paused with her strawberries then, confusion mixing with the bliss.
"Why not?" Fleur asked. The strawberries were almost entirely gone, only one left in the container now.
Pansy stood up, brushing down her skirt. She allowed Fleur to grab the last strawberry before she took the container back.
"Because the person who let me know Veela can't resist strawberries," Pansy said, tapping at the container, "Is the same person who is going to dose you before the Second Task to sabotage you."
Fleur swallowed, the strawberries gone and her mind clearing enough of the happy haze to focus more fully on what Pansy was saying. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
"Why would you help me?" Fleur asked, naturally cautious of her girlfriend's rival.
Pansy smirked, packing the empty container back into her satchel before running a hand through her silky hair. She glanced around the library once more.
"Just… Don't let Granger get too full of herself, yeah?" Pansy said, rolling her eyes, before turning and walking away.
"And she just walked away?" Hermione echoed incredulously. Fleur had just finished filling Hermione in on the odd encounter she'd had with Pansy the previous evening.
The two girls were spending their lunchtime in an empty classroom, Fleur having let Hermione know that she had something to tell her that she didn't want anyone else overhearing.
Hermione had lit a small enchanted fire in a jar in front of them on a desk and they were sitting closely together, Fleur's legs draped over Hermione's lap. Hermione was running a hand absently up and down Fleur's shin as she listened intently.
"Oui," Fleur replied, "I did try and follow her, but she must have left quickly."
Hermione thought for a moment. Pansy had been cryptic and irritating, but she had been truthful about the few things she did disclose.
"This is good," Hermione said suddenly.
"It is good someone is trying to poison or drug me?" Fleur replied, looking at her girlfriend with confusion.
"Well, not that part," Hermione agreed quickly, "But we know that someone— probably Moody— is planning to, we know how they get to the food— via the kitchens— and we know when they will do it!"
"The proof we finally need," Fleur said, realising what Hermione was saying.
"The smoking gun," Hermione agreed, before smiling apologetically at an adorably confused part-Veela, "It's a Muggle saying. Guns are… Well, it doesn't matter. It's a turn of phrase."
Fleur sighed, leaning further into Hermione.
"Finally," Fleur exhaled, "Then all the trouble will be done and it will simply be a tournament."
"Well, still a dangerous tournament," Hermione said with a slight smile, "Just a slightly less dangerous tournament."
Hermione frowned then, still not thrilled that Fleur and Harry were wrapped up in a dangerous tournament people had died in. Although at least they would be able to weed out the saboteur.
"You worry too much," Fleur murmured, leaning in and kissing Hermione.
Hermione hummed, returning the kiss briefly before breaking it. Warm brown eyes locked with azure.
"I think I worry the appropriate amount," Hermione replied, licking her lips, "I'm just surrounded by cocky gits."
"Cocky gits that you like," Fleur corrected with a smirk, leaning in and kissing Hermione again.
This time Hermione relented, deepening the kiss that Fleur had initiated. Fleur made small happy noise as Hermione slid her fingers through the blonde's hair. It was like liquid silk in her hands. She tangled her hands in there deeper, before giving Fleur's hair a light tug.
Hermione melted as Fleur moaned into her mouth. The brunette's heart rate spiked and she moved her other hand further up Fleur's leg, up to her thigh.
Fleur responded enthusiastically to Hermione, suddenly moving to straddle Hermione in the chair. Hermione's breath hitched, her hands pulling at Fleur's hips with a need she didn't know she had. Fleur responded positively, grinding in Hermione's lap in a way that made the brunette's eyes want to roll back in her head.
Hermione's hands slipped behind Fleur's legs, before moving up to her ass, holding the blonde firmly in her lap. Fleur sighed into the kiss, before slipping her tongue into Hermione's mouth.
Hermione and Fleur had kissed a good number of times since getting together, but this was the most physical that they had got yet. Hermione felt like she was burning from the inside out, blood rushing in her ears, pulse hammering in her chest, throbbing between her legs.
Fleur broke the kiss, before burying her head in Hermione's neck, kissing her in soft pecks. Fleur had discovered early on that Hermione had a rather sensitive neck, and often exploited it unfairly. Hermione's head fell back as Fleur lavished her neck with attention. One of Fleur's hands moved to Hermione's tie, another to one of Hermione's breasts. Hermione snapped her head up abruptly as Fleur began tugging at her tie to loosen it.
"What? Are you okay?" Fleur panted breathlessly, sitting back suddenly at Hermione's reaction. Her hand stilled on Hermione's tie.
"I…" Hermione squeezed her eyes shut. She was about to say something contrary to what every fibre of her hormonal body was saying, "I'm not ready to go further. Not yet."
Fleur let out a long and shaky sigh, before slowly removing her hands from Hermione.
"That's okay, Hermione," Fleur said, smiling apologetically, "I'm sorry, I got a little worked up."
Hermione blushed, overwhelmed at the thought that Fleur was just as turned on as she was by the situation.
There was a curt knock at the door and Fleur practically flew out of Hermione's lap, hurriedly smoothing her uniform and running a hand through her hair. Hermione swallowed heavily, fixing her buttons and tie hastily.
Fleur swept over to the door of the abandoned classroom regally. Hermione couldn't help but hungrily roam her eyes over her girlfriend's body. Part of her was kicking herself for not allowing the blonde to take things further. She was painfully turned on, an uncomfortable wetness between her legs making her all too aware of how much she would have enjoyed exploring further pleasures with the French girl.
But it didn't feel right. Not here, not now. Not in some abandoned classroom at school.
Still, Hermione bit her lip hard, trying to stop her racing mind as her girlfriend opened the door.
"Erm?" Fleur sounded confused.
She stepped to one side, revealing a small Hogwarts house elf.
"Sorry, Miss Deli-coors," the elf squeaked before bowing deeply, "I would have come straight in, but…"
Hermione wasn't sure who blushed more, her or Fleur.
"That is quite all right," Fleur insisted, moving the conversation topic along briskly, "How can I assist?"
"This letter," the elf squeaked, holding forward a fancy looking envelope, "It's for you."
Hermione barely heard the remainder of the conversation as Fleur politely thanked the elf. Her eyes were glued to the envelope. It looked familiar.
Fleur broke the seal swiftly as she turned back to Hermione, shaking a single piece of paper out of the envelope. She held it in steady, manicured hands, reading silently.
"The new Second Task," Fleur said finally, "It is to be held in the first week of January."