Sleep avoided Hermione that night like a troll avoided bathing. Despite the soft, fluffy mattress she used to love, she found herself tossing and turning, unable to turn her brain off. Her mind was so full, racing between thoughts, trying to process everything and come up with a plan. She needed a strategy. And there were so many questions to be answered.

The most immediate question was 'What to do about the Goblet?' She knew that the age line didn't care about physical age. Fred and George had clearly demonstrated with their attempt at an aging potion. Perhaps it was emotional age? That was unlikely, but if so, technically she was 19 in mind and spirit, so she might be able to submit her name to the Goblet and try for her chance to be the Hogwarts Champion. If she did, then that would give her the chance to stop Voldemort from rising again in the cemetery!

On the other hand, she didn't want to draw too much attention to herself, assuming she was chosen. Having two 'underage' Hogwarts Champions would be a scandal with unforeseen consequences. Maybe she should just allow things to play out how she remembered them and only make small changes when necessary? Could she do that? Could she sit back and watch as Barty Crouch Jr. impersonated Alastor Moody all year? So much depended on the decisions she was about to make. It was overwhelming.

She curled her fingers into Crookshanks' fur, absentmindedly petting him as she thought. He had forgiven her for hurting his ears earlier and was curled up next to her side, ears twitching as he slept. She found great comfort in his warm and rhythmic purring.

As the sun started to creep over the Scottish Highlands, Hermione rolled out of bed and quietly transfigured her sleepwear into exercise-appropriate clothes. After spending over a year on the run, quite literally, she had energy to burn and lack of exercise made her feel restless. Even if this body wasn't conditioned for exercise, it wouldn't hurt to get into shape. She tightened the laces of her sneakers and adjusted the long-sleeve outershirt before sneaking out of her room.

She ran around the Black Lake, simply enjoying the burn in her legs. When so much was out of her control, at least she could do this. She breathed deeply as she ran. It was so quiet. Peaceful. She took her time, jogging at a leisurely pace. It took her almost an hour to make the four mile lap around the Lake. The Giant Squid came to visit her at some point, staring up from the inky waters, watching her curiously before lazily waving a tentacle and slipping back into the depths.

She stopped on the sandy beach near Hagrid's hut to stretch before returning to the castle. She started doing yoga poses, a combination of stretching and meditation would help her steady her mind. A soft voice behind her pulled her from her thoughts.

"Ah, Miss Granger, fancy seeing you here."

Hermione screeched and her war instincts kicked in. She grabbed her wand, pointing it at the voice. She immediately dropped it when she saw Dumbledore leaning against a tree, staring out across the calm waters.

"Sorry, Headmaster, you gave me a fright."

Dumbledore hummed "My apologies, Miss Granger. That was not my intent. A beautiful morning for a run. I never understood why Muggles insist on physical exercise, but I suppose I can appreciate wanting to seek peace and solitude."

Hermione nodded. "Can I help you with something?" She hadn't meant her question to come across so stiff, but in the back of her mind she was bitter. This was the man that sent three teenagers on a life threatening mission to track down the remaining Horcruxes with no leads or anything useful to go on. Then again, his death was rather unexpected, who was to say that their Horcrux hunt had been his original plan.

"Ah, yes in fact. I was hoping to catch you alone. It has come to my attention that your classes are no longer a challenge to you."

Hermione furrowed her brow. How did he know? She and Dumbledore had maybe three one-on-one conversations in her entire time at Hogwarts. This definitely didn't happen before.

As if he knew what she was thinking, Dumbledore continued, unphased by her suspicious look. "Your professors have told me that you are… performing on a much higher caliber than expected of someone your age."

"I suppose that's true. I do like a challenge. But I'm afraid that I still don't understand."

"Let me explain. Rather, let me show you." He pulled out a scroll of parchment from his robe pocket and handed it to her.

Hermione took the paper and unrolled it "This is a new class schedule… for seventh years..."

"Indeed. I believe you can handle the Advanced classes, don't you think?"

"But I haven't passed my O.W.L. Exams yet…"

"I think you and I both know you will with flying colors. I've always expected great things from you."

Hermione was dumbfounded. She knew Dumbledore wasn't one to follow the rules, but what did he mean by his comment? Had he been paying attention to her academic progress? She nodded slowly as a wide grin spread across her face. "I… I think that's brilliant, thank you, Headmaster."

"Excellent. I've taken the liberty of informing your other professors and have had a proper set of school books delivered. They will be on your bed when you return to your dorm. Good day, Miss Granger."

Hermione nodded and looked down, carefully studying the schedule as his footsteps disappeared up the hill.

At least she wouldn't be completely bored shitless this year. Even still, she knew all of the information that she was going to 'learn' but it was better than nothing. What troubled her was that Dumbledore had been giving her a very knowing look, his blue eyes twinkling. Also, why was the Headmaster delivering a new class schedule? That was usually something the Head of House handled. Yet another mystery to solve. She shrugged it off and hurried back to her room to get ready for the day.

As promised, there was a new stack of books waiting on her bed. She hopped in the shower and grabbed her new Charms text and made her way down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

People were already starting to congregate, cheering whenever someone put their name in. So far she had seen Cedric Diggory and Angelina Johnson submit their names, along with a few Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students she didn't know. The air buzzed with excitement and anticipation. Hermione rolled her eyes and read her book as she nibbled a piece of toast. She didn't bother giving Fred and George the stern talking to when they burst in waving their vials of aging potion victoriously. Nor did she look when they were carried out of the Hall, both sporting bushy white beards.

She was deeply engrossed in her reading about the theory behind the Protean charm, something she would find extremely useful the next year when trying to coordinate Dumbledore's Army. In her mind she was mulling over ways that she might adjust the charm to make it more effective and powerful. She didn't hear someone approaching her.

"Bonjour, 'Ermione…"

"Delacour…" Hermione said stiffly, not looking up. She didn't trust her reaction if she met those dazzling blue eyes. It was bad enough that she could smell the delicate perfume. Lavender, vanilla, and something earthy… like a meadow of wildflowers and hay? Strange. She closed her eyes to steady herself, her heart was starting to race inexplicably. Things got worse when she felt Fleur's breath on her neck as the blonde leaned over to read over her shoulder.

"Ze Protean charm? Zat ees razzer advanced, non?"

"It is…"

"But you are fourz year, non? Zis ees not expected of one so young."

Hermione's temper flared and she dropped the book on the table with a heavy thud, glaring up at the insufferable Frenchwoman that was still invading her personal space. "For your information… Some of us want to get ahead! It's called ambition!"

"Do you not zink of me as ambitious?"

Hermione grit her teeth. She knew that Fleur was definitely driven and prided herself on her drive and merits. But at the same time, she wasn't 'supposed' to know that yet. So she bit her tongue and responded curtly "Not all of us are graced with such looks that allow us to skate by. Some of us have to work for it..."

A flash of hurt crossed Fleur's face for a brief moment. Hermione knew that was a low blow. She knew that Fleur was actually rather self conscious of her Veela heritage and constantly second guessing herself. Then again, Fleur's comment from the night before still stung, the embarrassment still fresh, causing her to lash out a little more than she probably should.

"You zink I am not capable? I am ze future Champion for Beauxbatons."

Hermione furrowed her brow at how self-assured Fleur seemed to be. Did Fleur know something or was she just that cocky? She held her cards close to her chest, not willing to give away her hand. And she definitely did not want to show any interest in the beautiful blonde. She sat up straight and gave a noncommittal reply "Really? What makes you think that?"

"Eet ees simple. I am ze best. I shall prove eet to you."

Oh, you arrogant, cocky git! Hermione thought. I'd love to knock you down a peg or two…

Fleur didn't wait for Hermione to respond. She straightened up and turned on her heel, striding across the room, so gracefully that it looked like she was floating. As she reached up to drop off her name in the Goblet, she turned and caught Hermione's eye, making sure that the fiery brunette was watching.

Despite her frustration, Hermione couldn't help but watch Fleur strut down the aisle. Damn those stupid uniforms! She glared as she watched the haughty blonde made to deposit her slip of paper but her jaw dropped almost to the table when she saw what Fleur did next. The blonde shot her a smug look and then winked at her before dropping her paper into the blue flames.

Hermione watched, her face was a mix of shock, awe and something else she couldn't quite determine, as the blonde approached her again. This Fleur was so confident and it was… sexy. Oh, God! No, no, no, don't think that. She gulped when she felt a cool finger press under her chin and close her mouth that she didn't realize was open.

"And when I am chosen, I really give you somezzing to be jealous of." With a light giggle, Fleur continued her march out of the Great Hall, her head held high in triumph. She didn't even cringe when she heard Hermione call her a "French tart" under her breath.

Fleur was in great spirits the rest of the day. She spent time with Gabrielle wandering the grounds and enjoying the relatively mild weather. Her Veela was upset with her at how she had acted toward her mate, but at the same time, she was not going to allow herself to be insulted and just roll over.

After thoroughly exploring the castle, the sisters were laying on the grassy knoll by the carriage, curled up in a blanket to fend off the chill. Both were nursing mugs of hot chocolate, both on their second serving. At home they were usually denied excessive sweets. And definitely not before dinner time. But what their parents didn't know wasn't going to hurt.

«So you put your name in?»

«But of course, Gabrielle. You were still asleep when I did. Besides, it would be inappropriate not to. I came for the chance to compete! I hope to be able to bring pride and honor to our school and prove to the world what I am capable of!»

«Aren't you scared? I'm scared for you. I know you're strong, but I read that people have died in this tournament before!»

«I assure you, I have no intention of dying. Sorry, you're going to be stuck with me for a very long time.» Fleur smiled and bopped her sister on the nose.

«Fleurrrrr!» Gabrielle giggled, going slightly cross-eyed. «By the way, what was up with you and Bushy last night? Did you spit on her plate or something? She looked pissed!»

«GABRIELLE!» Fleur admonished her baby sister's language.

«What? She did!» Gabrielle huffed defensively before switching tactics and flitting her eyelashes innocently to skate over the situation. It wasn't her fault that adults talked around her like she wasn't there!

«You are the worst, my little monster of a sister. And for your information, I did nothing wrong. I was a complete gentlewoman. And do not call her 'Bushy.' She cannot help her hair, just like you and I cannot help our looks. It is unfair to judge someone on appearances alone.»

«Fine… then I will call her Prickly. Because that's her personality.»

Fleur raised an eyebrow but she couldn't exactly argue that point.

«No? What about Grumpy? Or better yet… Booksy!»

«Keep this up and I will make sure you never have hot chocolate again.»

«Why are you being so defensive? What's it to you what I say about her? It's not like you to care…» Gabrielle shrugged and quickly drank the rest of her mug before Fleur could make good on her threat. When she finished, she looked up to face her sister, her upper lip covered in whipped cream. A mischievous glint flashed in her eyes «Fleur… you don't like her, do you?»

Fleur stiffened «No, how could you think that? You know as well as I do that it is not possible. She is a child still.»

«I did not say she was your mate… you can like someone without them being your mate. Just look at Maman and Papa.» Gabrielle watched her sister closely, her scrutinizing gaze indicated that she was far from convinced by Fleur's weak argument. «Whatever. It's not my problem if you're in denial. Come, it is almost time for the feast and the Champion selection!»

Glad to have a break in the conversation, Fleur stood and swished her wand, banishing their blanket and used mugs to her room in the carriage. In her timeline she had almost mastered wandless and wordless magic, so it felt strange to hold her wand again. She held her sister's tiny hand in hers as they walked up the lawn toward the Great Hall.

The Great Hall was absolutely silent, everyone watching anxiously with bated breath, waiting for the Goblet of Fire to make its selection. Dumbledore stood at the center of the room next to the pedestal.

The Goblet was quiet, then suddenly roared to life, the flame shifting from blue to a deep magenta that grew to almost twice as tall as the blue flame. A piece of parchment shot high into the air and the flames settled back to cool blue.

Fleur did not recognize it. She had used a piece of Beauxbatons stationary, round with little ridges, like a flower. She felt her sister stiffen and grip her hand tighter as they watched Dumbledore snatch the paper out of the air and read it.

"The Durmstrang Champion… Viktor Krum!"

The support shown for the Quidditch star was just as irritating the second time around. The entire Slytherin table cheering and clapping, some even smacking the table like a drum. Around the rest of the Hall other "Krum groupies" echoed the sentiment.

Fleur rolled her eyes and watched Krum make his way down the long Hall and disappear into an adjacent room.

Moments later, the Goblet came alive again. This time the magenta flame shot out a blue slip of paper. Fleur couldn't help herself. She leaned forward, watching with wide eyes as Dumbledore caught the paper midair. This was it.

"The Champion from Beauxbatons… Fleur Delacour!"

She breathed a deep sigh of relief. She didn't care that her applause was significantly more reserved than the reaction Krum got. Her icy blue eyes flashed over to the red table and when blue met brown, she flashed the smuggest smirk she could manage and mouthed "Told you so." She could almost feel the heat of anger radiating off by Hermione, which only made her grin more.

She made her way toward the front of the Hall and shook hands with Dumbledore and Madame Maxime before making her way to the Trophy Room.

While she waited, she inspected the trophies on display. Last time she remembered being somewhat intimidated by them. Now she just giggled to herself at the obvious power play. Besides, Hogwarts only had 1 win more than Beauxbatons, 63 to 62 respectively. She barely glanced over when she heard the door open again, revealing a handsome young wizard in yellow trimmed robes. Cedric Diggory. So far things were shaping up exactly like last time. She held her breath, wondering if the door would open again and there would be a 4th Champion.

She squeezed her eyes closed when she heard the door open and quiet, unsteady footsteps descended the stone stairs. She heard Cedric ask Harry if he had come to get them to bring them back to the Great Hall. She looked over and caught his eye. The boy looked just as terrified and small as before. His already pale face had lost all color and he looked like he was about to throw up or cry. She gave him a soft smile, trying to be reassuring. That poor boy had been through so much. It really wasn't fair.

No, this time would be different. This time she knew better. This time he had her in his corner and she decided that she would do whatever she could do to help him. Besides, she was still a member of Order of the Phoenix, even if she didn't look like it. She had made a vow and she was going to honor that oath.

"I protest!" Madame Maxime's voice echoed down the hallway, her accent was much thicker in her emotional state. "Zis boy cannot compete! 'E ees too young!"

"I agree, if I had known that Hogwarts was going to bend the rules, I vould have brought a larger delegation" Karkaroff drawled with a slight accent.

"And now eet seems zat 'Ogwarts will 'ave not one but two chances at ze apple, non? Zis is 'ardly fair and believe me, Beauxbatons will not be participating een any future Tournaments eef zis ees 'ow ze British operate!"

The room soon became a shouting match between the school Heads and the tournament officials. Dumbledore simply stood in the corner and observed the madness.

"You should be ashamed of yourselves!" Fleur's temper flared and she was unable to hold in her frustration. The room went silent, all eyes on her. "You are so worried about glory zat you would overlook zis boy's safety?"

"Zat ees enough, Mademoiselle Delacour!" Maxime's eyes flashed dangerously, a clear sign for her to stand down, but Fleur held her ground.

"Non. Eef 'e claims to not 'ave put 'is name een, zen I believe 'im. Use ze veritaserum eef you 'ave doubts. We should be worried about who would put 'is name een..." Fleur continued, knowing that she was drawing too much attention to herself, but she couldn't help it. So much for flying under the radar, she thought. She knew the sacrifices and trials that faced the Boy Who Lived and she wasn't going to sit by and allow him to be treated like a criminal.

"Mmm, if I was allowed to distribute points to our foreign schools, I would give Miss Delacour merits for her cool use of reason and logic." Dumbledore spoke softly.

"'Ow can you joke at a time like zis?" Maxime's voice was practically dripping venom.

"I assure you, Madame, it is no joke. I am merely stating that Miss Delacour makes a valid argument. Trust is a rare and valuable gift." Dumbledore smiled jovially, shooting Fleur a subtle wink "Regardless, Harry has no choice. His name rose from the Goblet and he must compete, lest he forfeit the contract."

"Erm, Professor, what happens if I don't compete?" Harry chimed in, speaking for the first time since he denied entering the tournament.

"Well, my boy, the penalty is death! A long, slow and painful death! To dissuade cowardice!" Ludo Bagman chirped happily.

It rubbed Fleur the wrong way. That man was way too excited about this but she knew he wasn't behind the plot against Harry's life, so she held her tongue. She was already in hot water with her Headmistress.

Harry gulped loudly and his shoulders curled in. He glanced over to Fleur who seemed to be the only person in the room who had any interest in his well being.

After receiving a vague 'clue' about their first task to be brave and prepared for anything, the champions were released back to the Hall but the group of adults stood around arguing a little longer.

Fleur didn't care to stay and listen, she knew the outcome and nothing she said would change the fact that there would once again be four Champions. The Hall was empty, all the other students dismissed for the evening.

She chased after the dark haired boy, tugging on the sleeve of his robe to get his attention "'Arry…"

"Fleur?" Harry looked at her, his bright green eyes full of surprise. "What were you doing back there? I mean, it's not that I'm not grateful for your help and all but this isn't your problem."

Fleur shook her head "Oui, zat ees true. But I will not sit by while no one will 'elp when you 'ave done nozzing wrong."

"But you heard them, we cannot help each other. And besides, we're competition. Don't you want to win for your school?"

"Some zings are more important zan winning. Eet ees ze right zing to do. I will not 'elp with ze tournament, as you say, we are bozz Champions. But I can 'elp you indirectly. Eef you want. But eet must be private, ozzerwise people will zink we are cheating, non? Can you keep eet a secret?"

"I still don't understand… no one else seems to believe me but you do?"

"Eef eet ees not too bold of me to say… but fuck zem. Zey are idiots."

Harry stilled, his eyes somehow got even wider. "Why are you doing this?"

"Let's just say zat I believe you and truly want to 'elp you. Now, what do you say? Do you accept my offer?" Fleur held her hand out to him.

Hermione stayed awake waiting for Harry to return. The Gryffindor common room was quiet. Harry was taking an extraordinarily long time to return. What was he doing? She paced nervously, chewing on her nails. Her parents would tear her a new one if they knew she was treating her teeth in such a manner. She was mulling over what she would say, how she might comfort him and tell him everything would be okay… she remembered all too well how practically the entire school turned against him and treated him like a cheat and a criminal. Even Ron. She bristled at the memory. So far the stubborn redhead was showing that this time around would be no different, sulking moodily in the corner before going up to his room.

She looked up when she heard the portrait swung open. She jumped over the couch and launched herself into Harry's arms, wrapping him in a big hug.

"Harry!" She exclaimed, holding him a moment before letting go to get a good look at him. When she did, she was astounded by his reaction. He didn't look lost and beaten down like last time. In fact, he looked… hopeful.

"How are you feeling? Are you okay?" Hermione asked cautiously, still a little confused by his demeanor.

"Well, I suppose as okay as I can be, all things considered. Honestly, why can't I just have one normal year where no one is trying to kill me?"

Hermione nodded, the boy was a magnet for trouble and misfortune. Sadly, it only got worse. Unless somehow she managed to correct the course of the future. "I know… you've endured so much. It's really not fair. But I've got your back! I won't let you face this alone."

"I'm not alone. I've got…" Harry trailed off, catching himself before he admitted his shaky alliance with the French Champion "You. As long as I have you, I won't be alone. I'll be alright."

Hermione raised an eyebrow but dropped it when she saw Harry shake his head. "Okay. Well, I'm glad you're okay. Just be ready for Ron to be a right git. He was in a foul mood all evening since the sorting."

Harry nodded sadly "Yeah, I expected as much. Thanks Hermione. I think I'm going to turn in, I'm bushed."

Hermione paused before an idea struck her, one of her theories she wanted to check. "Hey Harry, before you turn in… Can I borrow the Marauder's Map? I wanted to… uh… check something…"

Harry laughed, "Oh Hermione, you don't need to make up excuses. We both know you're just gonna use it to sneak out to the library. Wait here, I'll go get it. Be back in a jiffy."

"Yeah, right… you caught me…" Hermione sighed, grateful that Harry wasn't expecting an explanation. Perhaps her reputation as being a bookish know-it-all had its perks. She fiddled with a loose thread on her cardigan while she waited.

Minutes later she was back in her room, her drapes closed and holding two fully functional Marauder's Maps. Oh, that's interesting...