—Fleur de Saison—

Author: Hogwarts, here we come. TWT is announced, communication is now cut off between to two girls. This is really just a filler, honestly. The real arc of this story probably won't develop until Fleur arrives. The song I listened to while writing this was Freeze by Jordin Sparks—yeah, check it out. xD.

Hermione/Fleur. Sum — Life was hectic. Voldemort was lurking around the proverbial corner and the Triwizard Tournament was making everyone crazy. Hermione just wanted to get through the year alive; not fall in love with the beautiful Fleur Delacour, who she had thought she would never see again.

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#—Losing Touch: Chapter 3

Hermione smiled slightly as she leant against the concrete column, watching the various wizards and wizards rushing around platform 9 3/4. Many where wheeling along large trolleys, with trunks and familiars in cages. Children too young to go to Hogwarts were shrieking and laughing as they ran around, driving their parents to distraction as they tried to organise the children that were going to Hogwarts.

Looking over to her left, her eyes landed on Molly Weasley, who was tearfully chiding Fred and George and telling them to behave themselves, though her tone betrayed how much she would miss them along with their antics. Hermione was suddenly pulled into an embrace herself, and hugged the plump, red-haired woman back hesitantly. In that moment, she missed her own parents—her mothers protectiveness, and her fathers calm demeanour and obliviousness.

Everything was a whirl of motion and blur of colours, and soon Hermione found herself sitting in a cabin with Harry and Ron, glancing around and feeling slightly disorientated. "What a rush," she said, rubbing her temples. "It still feels like my head is spinning."

"I know what you mean," Harry pushed back the slightly long dark hair that had fallen into his eyes and obscured his vision. "It was worse than last year. Do people have to have such sharp elbows? I mean, really—I'm going to have bruises." he rubbed his side, wincing slightly as he did so.

"Yeah," Ron mumbled his accent distractedly, "What do you guys think Bill and Charlie were talking about? With the whole 'it's going to be and interesting year' stuff? Bagman wanted to tell us at the World Cup, but my own mother—"

"Shh," Hermione hissed as she strained to hear Malfoy's voice outside their compartments door.

". . . Father actually considered sending me to Durmstrang rather than Hogwarts, you know. He knows the headmaster, you see. Well, you know his opinion of Dumbledore—the man's such a Mudblood-lover—and Durmstrang doesn't admit that sort of riff-raff. But Mother didn't like the idea of me going to school so far away. Father says Durmstrang takes a far more sensible line than Hogwarts about he Dark Arts. Durmstrang students actually learn them, not just the defense rubbish we do. . . ."

Hermione scowled, moving quietly to slide shut the door so she could block out his irritatingly pompous voice. Malfoy's self-importance was the last thing she wanted to hear in the morning. Sitting back down, the train ride passed relatively uneventfully—with her briefly explaining about how the magical schools hid themselves to her clueless best friends. Seamus, Dean and Neville paid them a visit, and Hermione buried herself into a book as they all began to talk Quidditch.

Turning a page, Hermione—to her credit, didn't jump when the cellphone in her pocket vibrated against her thigh. Unbeknownst to herself, a small smile immediately appeared on her face as she took out to device and read the newest message she had received.

Bonjour, ma chèrie. I hope your train ride isn't too boring. I was just hoping to catch you before you made it too school. It's too bad cellphones and computers aren't allowed at your school during the week—I will miss talking to you, but I'm sure being in my last year I'll have plenty of exams to occupy me. Anyway, what are you doing right now? Other then riding the train. —Fleur

Hermione ignored the odd looks she recieved from Neville and Seamus as she began typing on the phone's keypad. She knew Seamus was from a rather traditional magical family, as was Neville, so they most likely had never seen a cellphone in their lives. Dean was muggleborn like herself, so he would obviously know what it was, and Harry lived with his muggle family. Ron had merely become used to it's frequent presence and stopped questioning it, to her relief.

Hey, :). Yeah, It is rather boring =/. Ron and Harry are talking sports with some of their friends, and I've been reading a book for school. I can't even stare out the window because it's such a dreary day, it would just end up making me feel depressed. How are you getting to school? Do you walk, bus, get dropped off? —Hermione

A reply didn't come for a few minutes, and Hermione had just slipped the phone back into her pocket when it vibrated.

I get dropped off. I go to a boarding school like yourself, and maman usually takes me there at the start of the year. It isn't too far from our home actually. Enough talk about school, how come you aren't sitting with your replacement for me? Genna was her name, non? :( —Fleur

"Er—Hermione?" Seamus queried tentatively, glancing wearily down at the cell in her hands as she looked up at him with a piqued eyebrow. "Uh, what exactly is that thing you've got there. . .?" Neville looked at her too, at the mention of the mysterious gadget, his eyes dancing with curiosity.

Hermione held back a sigh of annoyance as she looked at him. There would be no point in trying to explain it, seeing as Seamus would just end up nodding blankly like Ron no matter what she said. "It's like sending a letter with an owl," she said, biting the inside of her lip as she paused, "Just minus the owl." and the quill, ink and paper.

Seamus, like she had predicted, nodded at her blankly. Neville however, didn't even bother to pretend he understood what she meant, and continued to gaze at the slim, electronic device with puzzlement, looking utterly perplexed—as though he was questioning the meaning of life. Hermione resisted the urge to shake her head in defeat, and went back to using her cell.

Ginny, was the name of Ron's younger sister, if that's who your talking about. I bet your smirking right now. . . I see what your trying to do, Delacour, and I'm not falling for it. Your not sneaky enough to get me to admit to replacing you. ;) I'm just too quick for that. Looks like you'll have to try harder next time, yeah? lol. Oh and she's not sitting with us because she's with girls in her own year. —Hermione

Hermione turned her phone off silent as she glanced slyly over at Seamus, Ron and Neville on the other side of the compartment—smiling mischievously. Like she had expected, when the loud sound of a pop song blared from the cell's speakers, all three jumped in fright—looking bewildered at the sudden noise. The hazel-eyed witch couldn't contain her amusement, and burst out in giggles, receiving glares from them all. Rolling her eyes at their sulky reactions, she looked down at the LCD screen.

Désolé, mon coeur. I must go now. The headmistress is calling us to attention, and I'm afraid she would be rather displeased with her favourite student if she caught her texting underneath the dining table during her welcoming speech. I'll talk to you again next weekend, oui? Try not to miss me too much. Ah, and do tell Genna to back off from what's mine ;D. —Amour, Fleur.

Hermione grinned broadly with amusement as the mental image of a blushing Fleur being reprimanded by an elderly headmistress popped into her head.

Ha, no I don't think getting caught texting would be a good idea. I wonder who this Genna is that you speak of? I must look into that, really. I won't miss you. I will miss your banter though, your conversations are surprisingly intelligent for a blonde =P. I know you'll miss me as well. I guess I'll ttyl, then —Love, Hermione.

The rest of the train ride was filled with jokes and chatter. Malfoy made his presence known briefly with some vague words, before disappearing with his cronies cackling as they followed him away. After changing into their school robes, and getting off the Hogwarts Express, Hermione glanced with loathing at the overcast sky as she shivered.

A hundred or so horseless carriages stood waiting for them, and Hermione smiled with relief as she climbed into one with Harry and Ron—glad that the staff at Hogwarts had thought to enchant them so they were heated. Sitting in a freezing little box did not sound appealing whatsoever.

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Hermione ignored Ron's whining about the length of the Sorting and the state of his empty stomach as she found her eyes fixed on the vacant seat up at the staff table, the only usually reserved for Lupin, their previous Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. A flash of intense dislike surged through her veins as she glanced at Snape, who looked a oily and slimy as ever. If he hadn't made it known of Lupin's affliction, he would most likely still be here.

Turning back to look at Ron and Harry, Hermione smiled slightly as she caught Harry looking over to the left at Ravenclaw's table. Her keen eyes saw his gaze lingering on a girl in the year above them that she vaguely recognised as Cho Chang. A pretty girl, that appeared to have been of Asian decent, with dark almond-shaped eyes, and shining midnight-coloured hair.

Finally, the Sorting finished and Dumbledore announced for them to begin the feast. Hermione began to eat, absently tuning into the conversation Ron and Harry were having with Nearly Headless Nick about Peeves. She had just lifted her goblet to take a sip of pumpkin juice when she heard the ghost say something about how the poltergeist had been terrifying house-elves.

The goblet slipped from her hand and made an obnoxious clanging noise as it hit the table. Dark orange liquid was staining the table cloth, but Hermione paid it no mind as she gaped at Nearly Headless Nick, looking horror-struck. "There's house-elves here? Here at Hogwarts?" the words rushed from her mouth, conveying her disbelief.

"Of course," Nearly Headless Nick answered, looking slightly stunned at her unusual reaction to the information. "The largest number in any dwelling in Britain, I believe. Over a hundred, at least."

"I've never seen one!" Hermione retorted, still clinging to her disbelief.

"Well that's the mark of a good house-elf inn'it?" Ron mumbled around a mouthful of food, his words coming out slightly garbled. Hermione's nose wrinkled in disgust at the horrible show of etiquette. She had gotten used to Fleur's sophisticated and impeccable eating habits—to be exposed to Ron at his best so abruptly was unappealing, to say the least.

"They get pensions don't they?" she looked at Nearly Headless Nick imploringly, "And—and sick leave and everything? They're paid, at least? Aren't they?"

Chortling, Nearly Headless Nick gave an an bemused look, "Pensions and sick leave?" he shook his head, smiling in amusement, "House-elves don't want pensions and sick leave!"

Hermione felt like she was going to be sick. Looking down at the food that had been put onto her plate, bile churned in her stomach at the thought of how it came to be. Determined and almost angry, she spoke. "Slave labour—slave labour is what this is. I refuse to play a part in it. It's inhumane!"

Ron looked at her in astonishment. "Don't act 'o barmy 'Er—My—Nee. . . starving yourself 'on't 'elp the bloody 'ous-elves!"

He continued to try and convince her to eat, but after receiving a glare that rivalled McGonagall's, he resigned with defeat. Dumbledore got up again after everyone had finished their meals and made the usual announcements. It was only when he mentioned the inter-house Quidditch Cup wouldn't be held this year that everyone broke out in whispers, people looking horrified at the prospect. Even more whispers broke out, however, when he mentioned something else replacing it.

"This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy—but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts—"

But at that moment, there was a deafening rumble of thunder and the doors of the Great Hall banged open, and scraggly—fearsome looked man with a prosthetic leg limped through, and long black staff in his hands and a bright magical eye rolling around in it's leather and metal socket.

His face was like something out of a horror film. In muggle movies, Hermione had seen actors with make up and props artificially making them look horrendous, but every scar and mark on this man's grizzled face looked to be real. It was a disgusting sight, and Hermione couldn't help but be equal parts appalled and curious to how it came to be.

The stranger hobbled down the silent hall, his magical eye darting around ever which way. Once he reached the staff table, he exchanged what seemed to be a friendly greeting with Dumbledore and proceed to take his seat—the Defense Against the Dark Arts space, reserved for only staff of Hogwarts. It all clicked into place, then; that he must be the newest DADA professor.

After a brief introduction of the new arrival 'Professor Moody'—who Ron seemed to recognise as a fellow called Mad-Eye Moody that Arthur had spoke about a couple of days ago back at the burrow. Dumbledore swiftly got back into the swing of things, continuing on as though tension in the room from Mad-Eye Moody's presence was non-existent.

"As I was saying," he said, smiling at the sea of students before him, all of whom were still gazing transfixed at Mad-Eye Moody, "We are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

There was a moment of complete and utter silence, before Fred Weasley jumped out his seat, yelling loudly. "Your joking!"

Practically everyone in the room laughed at the exclamation, and the previous tension evaporated and instead the room descended into another round of excited whispers—that was, until Dumbledore called them all to attention once again.

"I am not joking, Mr. Weasley," he said, "though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar. . ."

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly.

"Er - but maybe this is not the time.. . no. . ." said Dumbledore, "Where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament. . . well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely."

"The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took it in turns to host the tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities - until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued."

Hermione was once again equal portions disgusted and intrigued, much like she had been when it came to Moody's disfigured features. "Death toll?" she muttered with slight anxiety, frowning as she saw no one else seemed to share her sentiments—most were once again whispering amongst themselves, no doubt about how they planned to enter. Flickering a glance over to Harry and Ron, she sighed despairingly when they both seemed to be enthralled in what Dumbledore was saying.

"The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money."

Impartial judge? Hermione mused to herself, a thoughtful expression appearing on her face. How could anyone be an impartial judge? Ludo Bagman, perhaps? Was it even possible for a human to be completely unbiased? These thoughts where however cut short when Fred began enthusiastically rambling about how he himself was going to enter—only for his hopes to be shot down when Dumbledore made it known that they would be enforcing an age restriction, allowing only those over seventeen to enter. Predictably, many where upset at these turns of events; particularly heo twins, who in Hermione's opinion, had their signature scheming expressions on their identical faces.

After Dumbledore finished speaking and told them to go to bed, it took Hermione a fair bit of prodding before she could usher her friends out of the Great Hall. When she finally made it to her dorm room, she ignored Lavender and Pavarti's gossiping and quickly got dressed and ready for bed—falling almost instantly asleep when she crawled beneath the covers.

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Note: This is all pretty in-cannon so far, but it will take it's own path when the other schools arrive—which will be in the next chapter. Squee; coming up is the Hermione/Fleur meeting. I know a few reviewers wanted for me to have them meet at the World Cup, but I had already had this half-written and didn't want to start over again :(. Sorry if that's a disappointment to anyone. Ah, and there is a few extracts from the Goblet of Fire in here—basically just Dumbledore's speech and a few of Draco's lines.

Review, yes?

Oh, and p.s. I don't own Harry Potter—I forgot to put that in my other chapters, and I'm too lazy to change it all now, so I hope this is enough.