Chapter II
Magical Beasts

Most of the school had already noticed Fleur's presence. How could they not. Fleur practically illuminated the halls with her sheer appearance even if it was just to stroll a corridor in search the Headmaster's office or even just the front door. Hermione couldn't blame her for that, Hogwarts' winding halls and stairs needed some getting used to even in her sixth year. Sometimes the halls liked to change orders because they simply got bored of their previous layout.

The brown haired witch's mind couldn't let the revelation over this morning's Daily Prophet go. Why would Fleur want to come to Hogwarts if Veelas were in fact being recruited to the Dark Army? She reminded herself to be careful with assumptions... Just because Death Eaters were spotted in Bulgaria, it didn't necessarily mean they were after magical beasts at all. Even if it was a tendency for Voldemort to instill fear and demonstrate his power through the volume of his army and followers. But why Hogwarts? Why England? She could have decided to go to Bulgaria instead and stopped the Death Eaters in their tracks there. The young witch made a point with herself to research a bit further in the library. She didn't particularly know much about Veela aside from the fact that they originated in Bulgaria, and also only seemed to activate an intoxicating thrall through dance. She shuddered remembering the Beauxbaton's entrance with the dance that Fleur led elegantly. Hermione remembered how she felt when that thrall enveloped her and those closest to the quarter Veela. The soft embrace felt like a blanket of warmth and when her eyes met Fleur's, the older girl smiled at her. Just the thought of this exchange brought a deep flush to the witch's cheeks. It was the only time they truly looked at each other without exchanging annoyed quips or looks in each others direction. Deep down, the younger witch knew that she started to question herself long before that, but that interaction brought even more confusion to herself. Was it the thrall or was it Fleur she found attractive? Whatever it was, her feelings were pushed away with such force that she wondered if that was why she had disliked Fleur so intensely...

"Hmph," muttered Hermione.

Ron nudged her and smirked, "C'mon Mione! Maybe Harry's just that good at Potions after all." the brunette broke out of her daydream. Once again, she got caught up in stupid thoughts about that woman instead of focusing on her task at hand. Harry's potion had already turned the perfect shade of deep royal purple, whereas hers barely emitted as much as a sizzle.

She eyed his potion with scrutiny and disbelief but then put her mind solely on her cauldron and began to work. Soon enough, the liquid within her cast iron pot sparked and finally turned purple, albeit, not as deep as Harry's.

"Well, well, it seems like Gryffindor has two Potion geniuses here!" Slughorn strolled to their desks and took a waft of the potion's scent in. He closed his eyes and breathed out. "Perfectly executed Mr. Potter! Miss Granger, yours is just missing one more stir before adding that extract but it's just as good. Ten points for Gryffindor!" he excitedly ushered other students to take a good look at their potions.

Hermione narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms while Harry gave her a lopsided and sheepish smile.
"You two would certainly do well to come to one of my parties," whispered the professor before going on his merry way to give some pointers to a Ravenclaw who wasn't having as much success.

After class, the Golden Trio decided to sit outside as Harry showed them the Potions book Horace Slughorn lent him for the term. There were scribbles everywhere, words crossed out almost on every page and then notes littered on the sides. Hermione looked at the text incredulously. It was blasphemy and a crime to the highest degree to desecrate such important source material.

"Blimey Harry! This is so cool! What does it say at the bottom here?" Ron squinted to take a better look at what was drawled at the bottom. "Property... of the Half-Blood... Prince? I wonder who this bloke could be."

Honestly, if these boys weren't her closest friends, she'd have turned the book in already. They were like family but were also frustratingly mischievous. "Harry, you have to return this book," she said sternly. "It's clearly writing out all the answers for you. That's cheating!" Hermione exhaled as the boys looked at her, then back to the book, ignoring her call for justice.

"Don't worry 'mione. If this becomes very problematic, I'll make sure to return it to Slughorn." Harry said while flipping through the pages of the textbook with Ron looking over his shoulder excitedly.

With a second loud sigh, the brunette sat up and muttered in defeat, "Alright well I'll be in the library with real books."

Hermione started back toward Hogwarts, clearly irritated. She could still hear Ron blabbering about how great this is, and how he'd love to borrow and take notes for some potions. Sometimes she just couldn't see eye to eye with them but she knew that deep down, all three of them wanted what was best for everyone in the wizarding world. Taking a deep breath of the crisp air calmed her down. The sun was out today, gracing her with warmth on her skin as she took her time walking back towards Hogwarts. She felt a little odd going back in with such beautiful weather but she had a missions and answers to look for.

"When in doubt, go to the library," she brunette muttered to herself. Little did she know that the blonde Auror followed her silently as she made her way up the marble staircase, and down a long corridor to the vast room of knowledge contained within books.

Lost in thoughts, Hermione swept the library at incredible speed, eagerly picking out books that might pertain to what her mind was unravelling as she went from aisle to aisle, from Magical Beasts to Folklore, to History of Magic. All the while, murmuring to herself when a particular book seemed misused or damaged in any way.

She gathered a whopping pile of heavy tomes which she carried with impressive strength to her favourite spot, nestled behind bookshelves and overlooking Hogwarts' Grounds through vast windows. The young witch rather liked the little corner as it gave her the privacy she loved, and nice natural light from the large window. Her favourite time of the day happened to either be dusk or dawn where the sun offered a warm glow on the old yellowed pages of a book.

The first one that caught her interest happened to be an old book about Magical Creatures in general. It stated much of the known facts about Veela including their wicked good looks, charm under the form of thrall, and the ability to shape shift into a Harpy-like bird whom is also capable of shooting fire from its hands. Apparently the thrall could be cast either by dance or voice, but Hermione could have sworn she felt Fleur's thrall even without all that. The bushy-haired girl wondered honestly if thrall affected sexuality, regardless of gender, then shook her head to try and bring her attention back to what she was looking for. Were Veela inherently creatures of darkness? Did they have significant hatred towards the wizarding community?

Unfortunately that information seemed scarce. After flipping through most of her pile, nothing else truly spoke of Veela and their history. The only other information Hermione managed to get out of them was from an old Muggle folklore book that referred to Veela as spirits of the forest who ensnared men with their dancing and also rode Stags to battle, striking somewhat a resemblance to Valkyrie. It also said that they had a tendency to be easily irritated and offended, to which, Hermione chuckled and agreed with.

The next and final book happened to be one of Gilderoy's. The witch kept this one for last because, while she knew the author himself was a complete joke, perhaps the story stolen within might have an inkling of truth. It was the tale of how Gilderoy Lockheart fell in love with an evil Veela from Bulgaria, but managed to defeat her through his sheer will for good. Hermione rolled her eyes. This was going to be a tough one.

"Not a great choice of story if you're looking to look for a way to defeat Veela."

With a loud THUD, the witch found herself jumping out of her seat and at the feet of who she dreaded to see the most. There was a moment where Hermione found herself staring wide-eyed at an amused Fleur Delacour. The Auror simply took the book from the younger witch who was sprawled on the floor looking quite embarrassed and took a seat at the table.

Madam Irma Pince shortly arrived and stared angrily at Hermione who was just dusting herself off from the floor. "Quiet!"

Fleur smiled one of her dazzling smiles and pointed to the flustered witch on the floor, "She got too excited from seeing me, Madame Pince. Forgive her for her excitement."

Flushing a deep shade of red, Hermione glared at the French woman as Pince eyed the both of them but then eventually retreated back to her desk at the front of the Library in a huff.

"Why are you here?" she asked a little harder than she intended.

Ignoring her question, Fleur just flipped through the pages of Gilderoy's book much like Harry and Ron had earlier today but with their cheats. "Non mais je rêve," said the Auror to no one in particular. "C'est impossible qu'elle puisse lui faire tomber en amour comme ça, quoi."

Hermione lifted her chair and sat once more at the table trying her best to compose herself from embarrassment and irritation. She breathed in, and then out. "I wasn't looking for a way to kill Veela, Fleur."

Flipping through another page, Fleur ignored her once more. "This book should be removed from the library," she licked her finger and flipped another. "Veela's can make someone lust but not love. Such false information can be misleading to a lot of people." She finally looked up from the book to stare at Hermione, eyes glinting. The younger witch felt a bit sheepish being caught by the quarter Veela herself with her research that she couldn't pass off as just random curiosity.

"I was looking for a passage of history pertaining to Veela and the wizarding world," she said, her tone trying to remain as civil as possible. It was with great effort that Hermione returned her stare. The air felt a bit thick, but Fleur seemed to be enjoying herself, absolutely care free. In the distance, laughing could be heard from the Hogwarts grounds below.

"You won't find any of that in here," she returned the book to the younger girl who took it a little forcefully. "Humans don't really care for other races unless they pose a threat to them."

"A threat? But... there's plenty about magical beasts who aren't threatening." Hermione tapped lightly on the cover of the most famous book by Newt Scamander, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. There had been plenty of friendly creatures described in there, but alas, no mention of Veela in there.

Fleur kept her eyes on her without taking a look at what she was motioning to. "Those are creatures who do not oppose humans even if their land, culture, or homes are taken from them."

There was an uncomfortable pause. Fleur broke eye contact and looked out the window. Could the quarter Veela be alluding to what Hermione feared? Veela must no doubt be badly treated by the wizarding world much like werewolves... This was exactly what she was trying to find out, to see if they had motive to join The Dark Lord. For a better life.

Fleur had taken interest in what was happening below as her she focused her attention, looking through the window, at what seemed like a group of Slytherin in their dark robes with forest green accent for ties all gathered around.

"Fleur, about my research... I was trying to... you see, I was wondering if you could tell me more about your- I mean-"

"I'm afraid I must go. One of your classmates might be needing a bit of assistance," interrupted the Auror. Hermione directed her attention out of the window to see what seemed like Neville Longbottom being suspended by the ankles in mid air, robes billowing in the wind as they covered his muffled cries.

The elegant woman stood up and closed the distance between them. Hermione's eyes widened slightly as she felt Fleur's body warmth emanating at their proximity. She could swear that familiar feeling of a thrall draped around her like that time in her fourth year. The Auror gently combed her wild hair that had become even wilder after her fall. Perhaps she felt a little guilty for scaring her silly. Her soft fingers meticulously worked through a tangle before tucking the strands behind Hermione's ear. Then, just like that, the warmth was gone as the older girl made her way out of the little nook.

Before leaving, however, Fleur turned her head to look at her, her long blonde hair even seemed almost completely white under the sunlight from the window. Her eyes hardened a little. "They might have to start writing about us soon in their books," she said. "And maybe you should have been researching on how to kill Veela." The Auror left.

Hermione sat there in silence. Her eyes still wide from that encounter. She knew she should be incredibly worried by what Fleur had just said, but all she could think about was how Fleur smelled really good.

AN: Wow, all this support and encouragement has taken me by surprise! You're all so amazing and I'm glad Fleurmione still has so much love. I've been holding onto them for quite some time, so this is really nice to hear about. Thank you, I appreciate all this support. I've already planned my next few chapters. Hopefully you'll enjoy the story as much as I'm writing it.

French moments:

"Non mais je rêve" – Expression that would be the equivalent of: "You've gotta be kidding me"

"C'est impossible qu'elle puisse lui faire tomber en amour comme ça, quoi." - "It's impossible to make him fall in love with her like that". The "quoi" is actually a bit of a way of expression in France. When something is a bit surprising or offending, they'll add that to make it a bolder statement or to express sentiment. Like "voila, quoi" is a bit more dry than just a "voila". "Quoi" directly translates to "what" but it depends in what context that word is used. Not every French person will use that to make a point, much like how we all have a different way of speech around the world in different languages.