Fleur was chatting with her classmates and 'new' friends at the Ravenclaw table. She made sure to sit next to Cho Chang, who she remembered from her first go around at Hogwarts. Fleur bristled when she saw 'Mad-Eye Moody' sitting at the staff table, she couldn't do anything, lest she give herself away. But otherwise Fleur found her conversation with Cho to be rather pleasant, but as time went on, her Veela started getting restless.
Her English had significantly improved in recent years and most of her accent had faded, so she made a point to lay it on thick when she spoke English. She knew that no one in Hogwarts would notice but she didn't want to raise suspicions amongst her Beauxbatons peers who would be expecting a heavier accent. Besides, as much as she hated it, she could use it to her advantage. The over the top French accent helped her develop a 'silly, cute, air-headed girl' image and the other Champions wouldn't take her seriously. Then she could blow them all away while they were too busy underestimating her. It was a tactic she was very accustomed to using.
She tried to stay focused on the conversation at hand and not the irritating Veela in her mind but that was becoming increasingly difficult. The Veela was making it known that she was not to be ignored. She quickly ended her talk with Cho and turned her thoughts inward.
«Seriously, you menace, what do you want?!» she snapped.
«Look, look, look!» the Veela responded excitedly.
Fleur rolled her eyes but did as the Veela suggested. Anything to make her calm down. Her crystal blues scanned the tables.
«I don't see what you're so excited about! We've already been through this! What's so…» Fleur stopped mid sentence as her gaze swept across the Gryffindor table. Oh… that's… different. She felt warmth radiating through her body, filling her with a sense of calm tranquility. She felt… Whole. Complete. Everything seemed to disappear around her and she only had eyes for one. Even though the girl's back was to her, she recognized the bushy brown hair. Hermione… Hermione Granger.
The Veela purred softly, content. «Mate.»
Fleur blushed at the thought. She knew the awkward teen would become something of a legend, she had already made a name for herself. 'The Golden Girl' as the Daily Prophet called her. She was smart and witty and had a stubborn streak that rivaled her own. They had had heated debates over late night cups of tea at Grimmauld Place. Hermione challenged her in ways no one had before.
But she was a child! Even though there was physically just a 2 year age difference, that gap was more obvious so now. It made Fleur cringe to think about. Despite her appearance, she was a grown woman thinking about a 15 year old. That was just not right at all!
She shook her head to rid the unpleasant thoughts and turned her attention to other questions she had about the situation. Why was her Veela suddenly claiming that Hermione was her mate? A mate can only be identified once both parties are of age. She certainly didn't remember having this reaction the first time around. She would have to write to her grandmother and ask her to clarify.
She was on the verge of obliviating herself when she pulled from her thoughts by a sharp jab to her ribs. She glared down at her sister who was fixing her with a broad grin.
«What?» she huffed, irritated.
«Who are ya staring at? Hmmm?» the younger Delacour wiggled her eyebrows.
«For your information I was not staring! And it's none of your business!»
«Fine… whatever you say… can you get me more soup?» Gabrielle pushed her empty bowl toward her sister.
«There's soup right there.» Fleur pointed out.
«It is empty. And as alpha it is your duty to provide! Would you deny your little sister?» Gabrielle pouted. It was almost comical the way she was sticking her lower lip out, quivering it slightly. But it worked. Gabrielle knew how to play Fleur like a finely tuned fiddle.
«Fine. I'll get you soup. But only if you put that lip away. Maman would be appalled!»
«Good thing you're not Maman then. Now… Soup, please!»
Fleur rolled her eyes and got up, ruffling Gabrielle's hair on the way, ignoring her protests.
She barely registered walking across the Great Hall, her feet seemed to be moving on their own accord. She blinked and suddenly she was standing at the Gryffindor table. Oh, merde, merde, merde! She cursed internally, panic rising in her chest. She noticed people were starting to stare at her. She quickly schooled her face back to a cool neutral expression and cleared her throat.
"Excuse me… are you wanting ze bouillabaisse?"
Hermione froze when she heard the soft French lilt. What the bloody hell was Fleur doing here? This definitely didn't happen the first time. Maybe her presence was throwing off the timeline more drastically than she expected. Thinking back she had acted no differently when the schools had arrived… So what changed?
She slowly turned around and looked up, her eyes meeting soft crystal blue. "Oh… uh…" She stammered, her ability to speak and form coherent sentences suddenly failing her.
Gratefully Harry stepped in. "Sure. Here you go…" he nudged the bowl closer to Hermione. "Hermione, aren't you going to help?" He prompted the bumbling mess.
Hermione snapped out of her daze and grabbed the bowl, all but shoving it into Fleur's hands "Right… yeah, here. It was good."
"Are you sure you 'ave finished? I would not want to be a trouble."
"No, no trouble at all… we're finished with it." Hermione quickly stated with an awkward smile.
"Zat ees very generous." Fleur watched the young witch, looking at her expectantly. When Hermione didn't respond or elaborate, she went on "I am Fleur. Fleur Delacour."
Hermione had to catch herself from saying "I know."
Fortunately (possibly unfortunately) Ron chose this moment to regain use of his mouth "Hi! I'm Ron by the way. Ron Weasley!" He quickly blurted out eagerly, his voice several notes higher than usual, and shoved his hand forward. Not to be put off by Fleur's lack of response, he continued babbling. "I'm Harry Potter's best friend! That's him, right there." He pointed around Harry, who waved awkwardly. "And that's Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of our class! Don't be fooled, she's not usually this quiet. Usually you can't get her to shut her yap!"
"Enchantee, 'ermione…"
Hermione shivered involuntarily at the way Fleur said her name. God she had forgotten how much she liked it. The way she ghosted over the 'h' and rolled the 'r.' Shit, shit, shit… stop being a gay disaster! What was going on? She knew that she was immune to Fleur's thrall… Oh, sweet Morgana's left tit, why was she behaving like this? She smiled up at the alluring Frenchwoman, crumbling under the intense gaze that Fleur was giving her, unable to do much else. Her usually sharp tongue seemed to have chosen this moment to go on an extended vacation.
"Oi, you're new to Hogwarts! You probably need a tour, ya know, lots of halls to get lost in. I'd be happy to show you around!" Ron offered eagerly, his face a color that would have made an eggplant blush.
Hermione's smile quickly fell when she noted Fleur's raised eyebrow, her lips twitching in poorly disguised annoyance, possibly disgust. Sure, sometimes Ron could be a complete arse that didn't know when to cut his losses, this moment being one of those times, but he was trying to be helpful. She bristled at the idea of anyone being mean to her friends. She was still very protective of her family.
"I am fine wizzout, zank you for ze offer. I would not want to be a bozzer." Fleur replied simply, clearly put off by the redhead. In her defense, it might have been the fact that he had a glob of Yorkshire pudding on his cheek. "Well, I should be going zen. Zank you for ze bouillabaisse."
Hermione turned around in her seat and glared at her peas and mash. It annoyed her how haughty Fleur was back then. Now! How haughty she was now. But she couldn't help but be a little curious as to why Fleur had approached them. Probably to get a look at Harry.
She glowered quietly, ignoring Ron rambling about how Fleur had come to talk to him and 'they don't make 'em like that at Hogwarts.' His second comment grabbed Hermione's attention.
"You are such an arse, Ronald!" She whacked him on the shoulder.
"Oi! What are you on about! It was a compliment to her! Ya know, what Dumbledore said about forming international relations and whatnot! I'm just being a good host!"
"Objectifying women is not a compliment!"
"Sounds to me like you're just jealous of her because she's so pretty and has nice objects."
"I… ugh! Ronald, you are such an arse!" Hermione growled, so exasperated by her friend that she didn't even care that she had repeated herself.
"See? Jealous…" Ron snickered.
"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" Hermione exclaimed loudly. To make her point she jumped to her feet and glared down at him "I AM NOT JEALOUS OF FLEUR DELACOUR!"
The Great Hall was completely silent. You could have heard a pin drop on the fifth floor.
Hermione didn't realize how quiet the Great Hall was at the time of her outburst, everyone had tuned in for a classic "Hermione's verbally beating the crap out of Ron" drama. She prayed that no one, 'no one' being Fleur, heard that. A soft giggle from the Ravenclaw table was all she needed to know that wasn't the case. She didn't have the strength or courage to turn around and look. She was absolutely mortified by her behavior.
She quickly sat back down in her seat and dropped her head to the table with a loud thud. "God, if you're up there, just strike me down right now please…" she muttered into the hardwood
"Who's the arse now?" Rob taunted in her ear.
For once, Hermione had absolutely no comeback.
Gabrielle was beside herself. She was laughing so hard that no sound was coming out of her mouth. She was the only one who could get away with that. The rest of the Beauxbatons students all were staring at Fleur, dreading the blonde's reaction. She had a fiery temper that they all knew to avoid at all costs. The smallest offense sometimes triggered her, setting off a classic Delacour tirade. After seven years, it was practically trademarked.
For her part, Fleur did a marvelous job at not completely flipping her lid. She had just gotten back to the table and passed Gabrielle the bowl of soup when Hermione's declaration rang out loud and clear through the dining hall.
She stood there, frozen in place. Part of her was angry. How dare her mate say that? The other part was hurt. Why would her mate say that?
Her cerulean orbs were staring intently at the back of Hermione's head, boring holes through the bushy brown curls, searching for answers. What had she done to merit such a hostile outburst? She had been nothing but polite and civil. Even with the drooling eggplant! She suddenly felt rather small about herself. Was her mate rejecting her? She had heard that it had been known to happen before and icy dread flooded her veins at the thought. She simply tilted her chin up proudly, banishing her doubts, and laughed it off.
"And zey call her ze brightest witch of 'er age? I zink I would like a second opinion on zis matter. Clearly she knows nozzing of what she speaks." She spoke loud enough that she was certain Hermione would hear the jab. It was petty and immature but she didn't care. Her feelings were hurt.
She felt the tension at her table release in one collective, audible breath, but she was glad to see that it seemed that everyone else was staring at the brown haired witch across the room. Right, she wasn't a champion yet. Aside from her peers, no one else knew who she actually was. But they would soon find out, she smirked to herself.
It was at this moment that Dumbledore stood up and saved the situation before it could get more awkward. "Right… Now that you all have enjoyed your supper, I have a few more comments before we adjourn for the evening. To our esteemed guests…" He looked over to the Slytherin table where Durmstrang had taken up residence and then over to the Beauxbatons students sitting with Ravenclaw house "We sincerely hope you feel as comfortable as you would in your respective institutions while staying with us. However, while you are here you will be expected to adhere to our rules and standards of conduct. Please note that the Forbidden Forest is just that. Forbidden. You will receive your class schedules on Saturday and I suggest you take time to familiarize yourself with our halls this weekend. And do mind the staircases. They can be devilishly tricky. For everyone, tomorrow's classes are cancelled so you may properly have time to weigh your decision to participate in the tournament or for our younger students, you may show your support to the prospective Champions. Classes will resume as normal on Monday..."
There was a loud groan as the doors to the Great Hall opened and an obnoxious squeaking noise filled the room, effectively interrupting Dumbledore's speech. All eyes swiveled to look for the source of the noise.
Filch was dragging what looked like a cart down the wide center aisle. From the sound of it the front left wheel needed grease and was causing the unpleasant sound. On the cart was a tall object covered in a velvet shroud.
Fleur knew it was the Goblet of Fire sitting on a pedestal. Still, her heart raced a little with excitement and anticipation. She wondered if the Goblet would choose her again this time. Would it sense that she was older and more powerful now? Would that help her or hurt her?
Dumbledore just smiled pleasantly as he waited for Filch to arrive and deposit the cart. "Thank you, Mr. Filch."
The grouchy man simply nodded and turned back, leaving the Hall.
"Wonderful!" Dumbledore turned to address the students again "Without further ado, I present the Goblet of Fire!" He waved his hand and the velvet cover disappeared, along with the cart, revealing the crudely carved wooden chalice sitting on a marble stand. "Anyone who wishes to submit themselves to the tournament need only write their name on a piece of paper and deposit it into the Goblet by this time tomorrow night. Do not do so lightly. This represents a binding magical contract and if chosen, there is no going back without suffering painful consequences. As has been mentioned before but I feel the need to emphasize the importance of the rule, the Ministry has declared that for their own safety, no one under the age of 17 is allowed to submit themselves to the tournament."
He paused when there was the expected outcry. He simply raised his hand and the boos and disgruntled comments immediately ceased. With another lazy wave of his hand, the Goblet was filled with a vibrant blue flame. "As of this moment, the Triwizard tournament has begun. Now off to bed, pip pip!"
Fleur stood and got into line with her sister and the other students in powder blue uniforms. In unison they marched out of the Great Hall, completely silent except for the steady clicking of heels and boots on the stone floor. She stared directly ahead, not sparing a second glance over to the lion's den.
This was definitely going to be an interesting year.