Hermione was nose deep in a thick, musty tome. All of the professors were assigning as much homework as possible to prepare the fourth years for their O.W.L. examinations next year. Hermione took this as a sign to begin preparing herself for her O.W.L.s , and in doing so, her untamable mane of hair was especially bushy from her frantic state of studying.

To add more stress to Hermione's plate, Harry was the fourth champion of the Triwizard Tournament, and Ron hadn't spoken a word to him since it was announced last week. Hermione believed it was preposterous that Ron thought Harry put his own name in the Goblet of Fire. Harry already had enough on his plate, let alone adding the fact that he lost his best friend due to petty jealousy.

With a huff, Hermione snapped the book closed, stood on her tiptoes to place it on top of her discarded pile, and grabbed another from an equally as tall stack of unread books. Against her better judgement, she was trying to find any sorts of spells that would help Harry in the first task. The only clue they were given was that the first challenge would "test their courage and daring." It wasn't much, but it would have to do. Given the 700 year history of the tournament, it was bound to consist of an incredibly dangerous magical creature. That meant that a combination of simple and complex spells would be needed. Simple hexes such as the stinging hex would be a good one to learn. Hermione made sure to jot that down on a spare scrap of parchment. She would look up the incantation later.

Hermione was so absorbed in her search for spells that she didn't notice her necklace growing warm or the soft padding footsteps of someone approaching until a chair was dragged over to her table. A student in a powder blue uniform plopped down, their long blonde ponytail swishing back and forth with the motion.

"Bonjour, 'Ermione," Fleur greeted softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Hermione spared her only a glance over the top of the book and a low grunt in greeting before returning to the text. Fleur didn't say another word. She simply cracked open her own book and was content to sit beside Hermione in silence. The only sound that passed between them was the occasional scratching of a quill on parchment and the rustling of a page being turned. Hermione wished that Harry and Ron would do the same when the three of them would do their homework together. So much more gets done when they stay silent and don't flick rolled up bits of parchment at each other.

With a resigned sigh, Hermione closed her book and rubbed at her eyes. In the couple of hours that she had been in the library, she had only found four spells that Harry might find useful, and one of them required complete concentration – something he struggled with when he wasn't searching for the snitch or on the hunt for an escaped chocolate frog.

Fleur glanced up from her book when Hermione sighed. Hermione's brows were furrowed and her hair seemed to be even larger than it was when Fleur pulled up a chair. Her shoulders were held rigid and tight, that much was obvious. Perhaps it was time she had a bit of a breather to take her mind off of things.

"'Ow 'as your day been, 'Ermione?" Fleur asked.

There was a visible sign of relief from Hermione. "As fine as it could be, I suppose," Hermione answered. She rolled her shoulders back in their sockets before leaning her elbows on the table with a sigh. "Ron and Harry have been using me as an owl between them," she said offhandedly.

"Are zey not talking?" asked Fleur, raising a pristine eyebrow.

Hermione shook her head. "Not since Harry was announced as a champion. Ron thinks he somehow put his name in and didn't tell him how to do it."

"I do not zink zat Harry should be allowed in ze tournament, he ees -"

"He's perfectly capable of being an active participant in the tournament!" Hermione bristled.

"Zat ees not what I meant, pardon," Fleur said calmly, hardly registering the fact that Hermione lost her cool. "I simply meant zat he 'as been zrough more zan most wizards would ever experience and deserves a break. Zough he ees young and inexperienced, I 'ave no doubt zat he will be a tough competitor."

Hermione flushed bright red. "I'm sorry for snapping. There's just so many people that don't believe he should be able to compete."

"Eet ees a binding magical contract, even eef he didn't put 'is name in 'imself. He must compete."

"But what if he doesn't? What if he doesn't show up to any of the tasks to participate?"

Fleur glanced around them for eavesdroppers before leaning in. Hermione leaned in close, so close that Fleur could feel her soft breaths against her cheek. She had to give her head a slight shake to refocus herself. "I 'ave 'eard terrible stories about zose zat did not heed a magical contract," she said in a low voice. "My maman told me zat some die a slow, painful death as their organs slowly grind zemselves up, but my papa said zat ozzers burn from ze inside out. He 'as also said zat ze lucky ones die instantly within a few minutes of breaking ze contract, and no one knows from what exactly. Zey just drop dead."

Hermione visibly shivered and leaned back in her seat. "So there's no way out of it. Harry has to compete."

Fleur nodded solemnly. She watched Hermione run a quick hand through her hair, and then watched as she nervously plucked at the necklace that she had given her two summers ago. Fleur leaned forward and gingerly traced the pendant, feeling the metal grow warmer from her touch.

"You still wear eet," she said softly, sounding as though she were in awe.

Hermione flushed and placed her hand over Fleur's. She could feel its warmth. "Of course I do. It was a gift from a f-friend."

Fleur smiled at Hermione's hesitation on the word friend. Could she feel the pull?

"Eet belonged to my arrière grand-mère – my great grandmaman – and she passed eet on to 'er daughter, my grand-mère, zen to my maman, and zen to me," Fleur stated. "And zen to you, ma chérie." Her eyes widened a bit, the pet name just slipped out without her meaning to say it. She hoped that Hermione didn't know what it meant.

Hermione suddenly looked confused. "But…why does it grow warm? Is it enchanted?"

"Oui, eet ees enchanted," Fleur answered. "Eet becomes warm when, uh -" Fleur darted her eyes around the library to buy herself another second or two. She had to come up with something fast – she had the feeling that Hermione wouldn't be too fond of the real answer. "Eet warms when ze person zat gifted eet ees near."

Hermione seemed intrigued. "So like a mini homing device," she said. A sly grin suddenly formed on her face. "So I can find you whenever I want."

Fleur laughed. "Yes, I suppose zat could be an eenteresting use."

"Excuse me." Fleur and Hermione turned at the sound of a soft voice. The owner, who was leaning casually around a shelf, was a small, blonde girl from Ravenclaw with radish earrings hanging from her ears and a cluster of butterbeer corks dangling around her neck. Hermione recognized her as the third year girl the Ginny sometimes hung out with. "Could you be a bit quieter, perhaps? The wrackspurts are making you two a bit too loud, and I have an exam tomorrow to study for."

"Pardon, mademoiselle," Fleur apologized, not showing any confusion as to what a "wrackspurt" was. "But may I say zat I like your necklace?"

The girl held up the corks with a mysterious grin. "Thank you, they keep the nargles away." And with that, she disappeared behind a shelf.

Suddenly, the bell rang for the classes to end and head for the next one. Hermione's free period was over. Fleur watched her spring to her feet and grab a couple of books that she didn't get the chance to read through.

"I have to go, my next class is Arithmancy and I really should get going," Hermione said as she gathered up her belongings.

Fleur stood and helped Hermione gather her bits of parchment and quills. "Eet was nice talking wiz you." She jammed in the stopper of Hermione's inkwell and handed it over. "We should talk more often."

Hermione smiled brightly. "I'd like that, Fleur. A bientôt."

And then she was gone.

Fleur stepped up into the powder blue carriage, slamming the door shut behind her to keep the frigid November wind outside. She wished that the carriage wasn't sitting so far away from the castle. The Beauxbatons students had to walk halfway across the grounds to get back to it. Clara, her best friend, immediately stepped up into her space, hands tightly clasped together in obvious excitement and her brown braid swinging to and fro.

"So?" Clara demanded. "Were you wiz ze 'Ermione girl?"

Fleur smiled and nodded. She turned and headed down the hall to her left to her room. "We sat and read togezzer for a while."

Clara snorted indignantly and sassily tossed her braid over her shoulder, hand on her hip as she followed Fleur down the hall. "When are you going to make your move? She ees not going to pursue you herself."

"I am taking eet slow," said Fleur. She stepped through a pristine white door that had her name stamping on it in gold lettering. "She does not know zat I am part Veela yet."

"So she doesn't even realize zat she's your mate?" Clara questioned. "I mean, you did give 'er ze necklace, right?"

"Only Veela can tell who zeir mate ees when zey see zem. My 'Ermione ees not capable of zat. She must fall een love with me on 'er own." Fleur unclasped her cloak. "But she does wear my family necklace – she bears ze mark of a Veela mate. Eet warms whenever I am near."

Clara grinned happily. "I am certain zat she will soon come to 'er senses. She would be dumb not to – you are a gorgeous witch, 'ow could she resist?"

Fleur laughed. "I can feel zat she ees coming around, Clara. I feel zat eet won't be much longer."