A/N: Hi all. I actually had this almost done about a month and a half ago, but I broke my nose and got a nasty concussion while playing baseball. So I was out of commission for a while. I'm still recovering from the concussion so bear with me here, but just know that I'm not neglecting this story. From now on, you can expect an update every two weeks or so. As always, let me know what you think! -WR

Disclaimer: Harry Potter ain't mine.

Chapter 5: First Day

Brook had a love hate relationship with mornings. Waking up earlier meant that she could get more done before the day truly started. But doing so was a pain in the ass. It usually took five different alarms for Brook to actually wake up because she just turns them off and goes back to sleep, grumbling about five more minutes. However, on the first day of school, she had something far more effective than an alarm clock.

"Brook, I swear to God if you don't get up in the next five seconds, I'm going to spill water on your face." Brook only groaned in response, covering up her ears with her blanket. "Five…four…three…two…" One never came. Instead, her blanket was snatched out of her grasp. As she turned her head towards the source of the intrusion, she was greeted by a splash of water. Brook shot up, coughing violently.

"Lex, what the fuck!" Alexis immediately rushed to her side and patted her back.

"Sorry! You weren't waking up, and you were going to miss breakfast. And you love breakfast."

"Doesn't mean that you should assault me with water!" Another cough.

"I did try to wake you up for like 30 minutes before that." Alexis reasoned. Brook shrugged her best friend's arm off and headed to the bathroom to get herself a towel. "Ok, let's be real. Would you have woken up if it weren't for the water?" Alexis called after her. Brook didn't reply.

After an internal debate, Brook exited the bathroom and leaned against the doorframe with her arms crossed, glaring at Alexis. "Yes, of course."

"Brook."

"Eventually."

"Brooklyn."

"OK, fine. I wouldn't have woken up if it wasn't for your water park in bed." She relented. "It still doesn't take away from the fact that I'm mad at you." With that, Alexis put on a bright, wide smile and nearly skipped over to Brook, carrying a steming mug in her hands.

"Would it help if I told you that I got you a fresh cup of coffee?"

Brook gladly accepted the mug and sighed. "You know one of these days, coffee isn't going to solve everything."

"But…?"

"Today isn't that day. Come on, let's go to breakfast, I'm starving."

Fleur began to stir in her bed when see heard a series of taps on her window. She stretched and rubbed her eyes, trying to get the morning out of her system. Who would write her at this early in the morning? Fleur opened her window, shielding her eyes from the sun. Her snowy owl held an envelope in its beak.

"You deserve some rest. I don't think I'm going to write an immediate response to anything." The owl flew away from the windowsill and into the rare sunny sky of Scotland. Fleur opened the envelope and sat down on her bed. The letter read:

My dearest Fleur,

Your grandmother and I are so proud of you! We felt that something was different in the air last night, but we didn't expect it to be this momentous! And yes, we know. Are you at all surprised that we knew before you even wrote us? Never underestimate a Delacour, Fleur.

And don't worry too much about not writing us; we're sure you had a very busy day trying to get accommodated to your new surroundings. Just know that we are so happy for you and your mate. We do want to see a photo of her at the earliest convenience (preferably both of you in the same picture!).

I know that all this may seem like it's all happening too fast, but I want you to understand that it's completely fine to do it your own way and at your own pace. You may be a Delacour but you're also my daughter. I can't stand to see you be uncomfortable or ill prepared for an event that quite literally will change your and your mate's lives forever. With that said, it's perfectly understandable if you want to take your time. Easing your mate into all this may be wise—considering she's not a veela. No matter what happens, Fleur, I just wish that you be the brave and confident girl you have always been. You are going to do amazing. We are so proud of you, Fleur. Don't hesitate to write us with more questions (and pictures)!

Love,

Your Mother

P.S. Please send Gabrielle our regards! Make sure she doesn't get into any trouble!

Fleur clutched the letter close to her chest and let the tears fall. They weren't tears of despair—they were of relief. Finally. Almost all veela girls dream about meeting their mate and courting him or her. The one.

But not Fleur. While girls her age talked incessantly about their fantasies of falling in love, Fleur spent the time worrying. She wasn't just any veela; she was a Delacour. The weight the name carried was almost overbearing to Fleur. The centuries of prestige and tradition to hold up, outside perception and expectations of her family, and additional pressure that she created for herself.

So, she was terrified. A moment a veela meets her mate can only be described as the single most important moment of her life. In a single glance, a single look, a single touch, two lives are altered irreparably. They are forever intertwined. It occurred in every veela's life. It is a fundamental essence to their being. Fleur couldn't imagine what would happen if she were to fail. She shrouded herself in a cloud of self-doubt and fear, afraid of what her family would think of her if the unthinkable did happen. Apart from the physical ramifications (Fleur's death from, ironically, a broken heart), the social effects would be immense. The family legacy would be ruined. The Delacour name, with all its prestige, would be tarnished. To cope, she relied on a steady dose of temporary boyfriends and girlfriends. Getting them to like her was no trouble, she is a veela after all. There was no pressure, as she knew that none of them were the one. She would know when the right person came around as her grandmother told her. Her revolving door of companions gave her solace. No matter what she did, no matter what mistakes she made, it wouldn't matter. Over time, she started to push the thought of her mate to the back of her mind. Ever present, but lurking. She'd cross that bridge when she gets there.

But now, it was real. It was far too real. No amount of advice from her mother and grandmother truly prepared her for the moment she laid her eyes on Alexis. It was during the middle of the Beauxbaton entrance ceremony. By happenstance, Fleur turned her head towards the Gryffindor table and made eye contact with the redhead. She was completely caught off guard by the green orbs that stared back at her. Fleur nearly tripped on her own feet mid-stride. She had to force herself to stare straight ahead to avoid ruining the procession, ignoring the dozens of hormonal teenagers who were practically drooling. Fleur desperately tried to push the image of the girl to the back of her mind, instead focusing on making sure that her steps were in sync with the other girls. Despite her efforts, the redhead was seared into her mental image.

It was only when the Beauxbatons students were seated at the Ravenclaw table that Fleur allowed herself to let out a breath she didn't even realize she was holding. Her heart pounded with such ferocity that it was starting to hurt. She wasn't quite sure of her surroundings even though she was vaguely aware that she was sharing pleasantries with the Ravenclaw students. Fleur put on her best smile while introducing herself to the fumbling seventh year boys and entertained them for a short while, but her interests lied somewhere else. More specifically, near the end of the Gryffindor table. The ceremony continued on with the Durmstrang boys and Dumbledore's speech, but they faded to background noise.

She wasn't exactly staring, but one might say that her eyes were lingering far longer than normal on the redhead across the Great Hall.

OK, fine, she was staring.

But admitting that fact wasn't going to stop her. The more she stared, the more she noticed about the girl. How the candlelight shined through her strawberry locks. How her bangs fall softly on her face but just enough to not cover her eyes. How her freckled nose scrunched ever so slightly as she smiled at something her friend had said.

Merde. That smile is enough to bring any man or woman to their knees. It just radiates warmth to all corners of the room, making Fleur feel something that she was deathly afraid to feel all those years. She should have been terrified. This exact moment was what she had warned herself against for years. She should have been afraid of rejection, of failure, of consequence. But she felt none of that. There was something about the girl that made Fleur feel so… safe. So warm. As if with that dazzling smile she wholeheartedly told the entire world that it's going to be okay. She was the one.

Fleur suddenly strode over to the Gryffindor table with a determined look on her face, ignoring a curious glare from her little sister. She could feel dozens of eyes fixed on her as she made her way across the Great Hall. It was almost as if she had a black hole-like gravitational pull. As she neared the two friends, Fleur put on her best, most charming smile.

"Excusez-moi, can I have ze bouillabaisse?" Wait. What? The bouillabaisse?

The duo turned around and seemed taken aback by the Fleur's unprompted appearance. The redhead was slow to respond, perhaps in shock, maybe even confused. Her friend had to explain to her that another human being was talking to her and was expecting a response. She stumbled her way through a reply and meekly handed Fleur the dish she pointed to. Merlin, she's even cuter when she is flustered.

"Merci, mademoiselle. My name iz Fleur Delacour. Pleasure to meet you."

"Like—likewise. Alexis Thompson."

Alexis.

The name echoed through her mind. She grinned from ear to ear.

Alexis.

It was music to Fleur's ears.

Brook was late. Not that is was out of the ordinary for her to be unpunctual, but on the first day school? For the first class of the day? That was setting the bar pretty low. So now, she was running. Maybe sprinting. It was a peculiar sight: a girl with a messy high bun sprinting with a book in one hand, croissants in the other, and a chocolate chip muffin held tightly between her teeth. Not to mention the open bag slung across her shoulder with stacks of paper threatening to spill out at any moment.

She was hoping for a more subtle entrance, but her momentum carried her forward with some considerable force, causing her to burst through the classroom door. About thirty heads snapped towards Brook, obviously startled. Shit. Ok maybe not as subtle as I thought. Thankfully, Professor Moody was nowhere to be seen, so technically, she wasn't late. Brook scanned the classroom for any empty seats and more specifically, the redhead ball of sunshine. She finally found her near the bookshelves that lined the right side wall of the classroom. However, her usual seat next to Alexis was taken by an exchange student from Beauxbatons. Alexis mouthed a silent apology to her friend before shrugging and gesturing to her right, looking as flustered as she was the day before during the welcome feast.

Brook then continued her search for an empty seat, regretting the time she took to grab extra pastries on the way out from breakfast. Grey eyes met hazel and Hermione was motioning to Brook to take the open seat next to her. Brook slumped into the chair, setting her pastries down next to her books. Her hand immediately reached for her muffin in her mouth so that she could actually speak without looking and sounding like a complete idiot.

"Good morning, Brooklyn. Did you not eat breakfast?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow at the pile of pastries that formed on the corner of Brook's side of the desk.

"Morning. I woke up late," she explained.

The office door swung open suddenly and the students all jumped in surprise. Professor Moody's metal foot clanked with every step he took on the stone steps. Some of the Slytherin boys in the back whispered amongst themselves, wondering how the wizard lost this leg. When he reached the floor, he began frantically writing on the chalkboard, muttering something unintelligible. The words "Unforgivable Curses" were underlined for emphasis.

"Which of you can tell me what the three Unforgivable Curses are?" He asked gruffly. Hermione raised her hand almost instantly. "Yes, you there. Miss Granger."

"The three Unforgivable Curses are the Imperius Curse, Cruciatus Curse, and the Killing Curse."

"Very good, Miss Granger. And why are those curses unforgivable?"

"The use of any of the curses are deemed so heinous that the wizard or witch that casts it will—"

"Earn themselves a one way ticket to Azkaban." He spit out the last word, writing it on the chalkboard as well with harrowing speed, his tongue flicking almost snake-like. "Yes, correct, Miss Granger. Well done."

"Thank you sir."

"Now, the Ministry believes that young witches and wizards such as yourselves are too young to be learning these curses. I think different." Murmurs broke out among the students. "It is my belief that you should be know what these curses do." He pointed at a sliver locked boy in the back. "You there. Mister Malfoy, what is the name of this course?"

Brook gripped her quill tightly, strangling it in her hold. Her fingertips turn white from the sheer amount of pressure she was putting on the writing utensil. "Uh, Defense Against the Dark Arts?" The boy replied. So, it is him.

"Exactly!" Professor Moody banged his fist on his desk, doing nothing to assuage the tension that now permeated through the class. "How will you hope to defend against the dark arts if you are not exposed to it, hmm? You need to know what you're up against! It is my job to prepare you all. And what better way to prepare you for the dark arts than with some of the darkest of them all?" Hermione's brows frowned in consternation, wondering what the professor had in store as he pulled out a caged spider from his trunk. "Longbottom! Come up to the front!" He barked and beckoned the hunched boy over. He unsurely shuffled his way to the front of the class, standing face to face with the professor, their bodies only separated by a desk. "Now, tell me one of the curses."

The boy froze. After a few beats of silence, he managed to stutter out, "The—the Imp—Imperius Curse, sir." Professor Moody quickly pulled his wand out from his pocket and released the spider.

"Take a step back, Longbottom." The boy staggered backwards tentatively. "Imperio!" A yellow green mist emitted from Professor Moody's wand, enveloping the spider. There was a collective gasp of surprise as the professor forced the spider to latch itself onto chalkboard. "The Imperius Curse will leave the victim completely at the mercy of the caster. You can make the victim do just about anything. And I mean anything." With a flick of his wand, the professor made the spider return to its cage, even managing to lock itself in somehow. "Now the next one, Longbottom." Brook could see the boy practically shaking in his shoes. If she could squeeze the quill any harder, she would have snapped it in half. She let out a growl and huffed. Hermione gave her a worried look as if to ask about her well-being.

"The Cruciatus Curse, sir." The boy squeaked out, taking a more serious interest in his shoelaces, not daring to look the professor in the eyes. Well, eye.

The professor nodded, pleased by the answer even though a majority of the class couldn't hear it. "Crucio!" A sickening screech from the spider filled the room. Brook wasn't even aware that spiders could produce a sound so horrifying. Or any sound for that matter. All of the students doubled over in pain with palms pressed tightly over their ears. And the boy was noticeably pale with tears threatening to spill over. But the spider definitely had it the worst. Its legs were curled in on itself, sporadically extending into the air and grabbing nothing. Its body wiggled fervently, desperately wishing for death's sweet release.

"Professor! Stop! I think that's enough!" Hermione pleaded. Thankfully, a burst of green light ended the suffering.

"Avada Kedavra!" Professor Moody yelled out. Silence fell over the room as students tried to regain their bearings. "That's enough for today. Class dismissed." Students from Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Ilvermorny alike hurried to file out of the room, eager to get as far away from the class as possible. Brook sat still in her chair for a moment, almost stunned from the events that just unfolded. Hermione reached out and laid her hand on Brook's shoulder.

"Hey, Brooklyn. Are you all right?" Brook flinched, jumping in her seat. The Gryffindor quickly withdrew her hand when she noticed Brook's obvious discomfort. "Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you," she explained.

"No, I'm good." Shaking her head to pull herself out of stupor. She absentmindedly began stuffing her belongings into her bag, her fingers on her right hand twitching ever so slightly as she moved. "I need to get to my next class," she murmured.

"History of Magic, right?" Brook merely grunted in the affirmative. "I can walk with you, if you'd like. If I remember correctly, I do have that class next as well."

"Sure."

"Hey, Brook. Sorry about the seat, she just sat right there and wouldn't take no for answer." Alexis popped in.

"Sure."

The trio made their way out of the classroom and down the hallway with Hermione talking animatedly. "I just cannot believe he just did that!" She exclaimed. "Teaching Unforgivable Curses on the first day of classes, never mind to fourth and fifth years! Poor Neville, he looked so scared up there."

Near the foot of the stairs, Alexis suddenly stopped short. "Ah shoot! I left my book in the classroom." She said, snapping her fingers in frustration. "I'll see you guys in class?"

"Do you know the way to class, Alexis?"

"Yeah, just up the stairs, to the right, and down the hallway. I'll be fine."

"All right then." As Hermione and Brook made their way up the stairs, the lioness continued on her rant about the carelessness of the newly appointed Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Brook only chimed in with noises that affirmed she was listening. Her focus was mostly on the strap of her bag she was desperately clutching onto.

When they turned the corner, Hermione bumped into a Slytherin boy, his silver hair flying in all directions as he tried to regain his balance. Cursing, he rubbed his forehead, trying to soothe the pain. Equally, Hermione yelped out in surprise and pain.

"Watch where you're going, Mudblood." He spat. Brook tensed up at the sound of the derogatory word.

"Shut up, Malfoy. You are also at fault here."

"Be careful what you say, Mudblood. You just might regret it."

"What the fuck did you just call her?" Brook snarled at Malfoy. Hermione jerked her head towards Brook, caught off guard by her sudden outburst.

"Oh, are you making friends now, Granger?" Malfoy sneered. He directed his eyes to Brook. "I called her a filthy Mudblood like the abomination she is. Do you have a problem with that?" He snorted. Hermione was about to intervene with some peacemaking words, never being the one to incite unnecessary conflict. But the words never left her mouth as Brook grabbed Draco's collar and violently pinned him against the stone wall. Draco took in a huge breath, gasping for air, clearly unprepared for such an assault. Brook then proceeded to pull out her wand with her free hand and held it threateningly against Draco's neck.

"Does this answer your question, you prick?" She was practically growling now.

"My father will hear about this," he managed to choke out.

"Go on, run off to your daddy and tell him all about it. I fucking dare you. You think your pathetic family scares me, Malfoy?" Brook's eyes darkened to a midnight black. Hermione could only watch, her feet betraying her brain, which was yelling at her feet and arms to do something. Anything. "Do you even know who I am? I have more wealth and power than you've ever imagined in my left fucking toe. I could end your entire family with the snap of my fingers, you chicken shit. Tread very carefully. Never talk to her like that again. Do I make myself clear?" When Malfoy didn't respond, Brook pressed even harder with her wand. "I can't fucking hear you. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes. Crystal." Draco struggled to get the words out his mouth. Brook released her grip on the Slytherin and watched him scamper away down the stairs, silently cursing. When he was out of eyesight, Brook collapsed against the wall, her cheeks pale, her lungs desperately gulping for air. She brought her legs to her chest instinctively, as if to protect herself from something unforeseen.

Hermione broke out of her short paralysis and rushed over to her side. There was a flurry of footsteps and the redhead was kneeling in front of her best friend. "Oh my god, what happened?" Alexis turned to Hermione for an explanation. Meanwhile, Brook's breaths quickened. Her right hand was quivering violently.

"She got in a fight because of me." Hermione offered meekly, not knowing what to do in the situation.

"I was barely gone for a minute!" She turned her attention back to Brook. "Hey, Brook? Brook, look at me." She said gently. Grey eyes met green. "I need you to take some deep breaths for me, okay? Can you do that?" Brook's breathing changed into an erratic pattern of long and short breaths as she struggled to regain control of her respiratory system. Tears pooled at the corners of her eyes. "Hey, you're doing good, Brook. Just keep looking at me and keep taking those deep breaths. In and out. In and out." Alexis dramatically breathed in through her nose and out with her mouth, hoping to make the maneuver a bit easier for Brook as she mimicked her breathing. "That's it. Just keep doing that." She turned her head towards Hermione. "Where's the nurse's office?"

"On the first floor, I can show you where."

"Quickly." Back to Brook. Her breathing was beginning to slow down, but her shaking hand had yet to improve. "Hey Brook? We're going to take you to the nurse's office, is that okay?" Brook could only slightly nod in the affirmative. "Hermione, help me lift her up." The three slowly and gently made their way to the infirmary, greeted by Madam Pomfrey who was motioning the girls to place Brook on one of the open beds.

"Oh dear. It looks like she is having quite the panic attack here. Nothing some calming potion can't fix." She held a vial near Brook's lips. "Drink up dear. It'll make you feel better." Brook obliged, taking small sips of the potion. Within seconds, her breathing normalized and her right hand seized to shake. Soon after, she drifted off into a deep slumber. Hermione let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

"I'm going to go back upstairs and put her stuff back in her room. I'll be right back." Alexis said before rushing out the door. Hermione's eyes fell on Brooklyn, relieved to see her cheeks regain their color and her chest rising and falling with each breath. There was so much she didn't know about this girl. They had only first met the day before, after all. Brooklyn had only known her for a day and yet she confronted Malfoy on her behalf. Protected her and threatened Malfoy with extreme ferocity. The way her eyes tore through Malfoy's… Just recalling them made Hermione shudder.

Why did Malfoy's pure blood supremacist slurs make her spring into action like that? So quickly, without any hesitation. Again, Hermione and Brooklyn were only acquaintances at this point. It was almost jarring to see so many different sides of her in such a short time span. She saw glimpses of her distant nature the night before and the coldness when she strode into class. Then her fury. Then her vulnerability. There were many layers to the young Wayne. Hermione was determined to see all of them. Despite her icy shell, there was something else in the heiress. Something…caring. Something wonderful. She just had to make the effort to find out.

"Hermione, dear. Shouldn't you be in class?" Madam Pomfrey asked.

She shook her head. "No, ma'am. I'll be fine." She pulled up a chair and held Brooklyn's hand, thankful that she was getting better. No class in Hogwarts could make her leave her seat. Her academics could wait. She already knew the curriculum by heart now anyways.