—Fleur de Saison—
Author: Fleur plays a prank of Gabrielle. Hermione's teeth get a bit enlarged. Snape makes his debut. Rita Skeeter makes an appearance. Madame Maxime isn't happy. Again, not much plot here, haha. I hope it's entertaining enough, though. Check out 30 Minutes by t.A.T.u xD. A brilliant song.
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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#—Instinct: Chapter 6
Sunlight filtered through the light, blue curtains of Fleur's temporary bedroom window; beam directly slithering across Fleur's porcelain features. Nose twitching with annoyance, eyelids blinked open slowly—only to snap abruptly shut at the burning the harsh light caused to the teenagers sensitive retinas
Fleur suddenly wanted the dreary, overcast weather back. England really wasn't so bad when it was raining. . .
Scoffing—a rather unladylike habit she had, that played on Madame Olympe's nerves to no end—sardonically at her thoughts, Fleur sat up in the bed; light cream sheets falling to pool around her hips as she rubbed sleepily at her eyes and yawned. Ruffling her permanently straight and silky flaxen locks, the lithe witch got out of her comfortable, inviting bed and padded along the varnished wooden floors.
Shivering at the morning cold, she cursed England—something else that was beginning to become a habit. Closing the bathroom behind her, Fleur—with narrowed, stinging eyes—set to brushing her teeth and having a shower. When finished, she exited in only a towel and immediately snatched her wand from her bedside table to cast a warming charm on the room.
Flickering a glance over at the still peacefully sleeping Gabrielle, curled adorably around her pillow and lightly snoring, the elder Delacour dropped her towel and swiftly got dressed in her school uniform. Hair fixed in a high pony-tail, she adorned her blue hat, before smirking over at the blissful Gabrielle.
Wand in hand and a mischievous smirk pulling at her pouted-lips, Fleur tiptoed over to her sisters sleeping form and muttered a small conjuring spell. Freezing, clear water poured from the tip of the long white stick, and splashed over Gabrielles face—shocking the small blonde awake.
"Wakey-wakey, Ga-bri-elle." the words were sung from her mouth, as the mischievous smirk transformed into a smug one. Fleur jumped backwards reflexively as Gabrielle lunged at her—looking amusingly like a drowned rat as she did so.
"Fleur!" she shrieked shrilly, eyes half-closed as she fumbled around for something to wipe her face with. "I am goeeng to kill you!"
"Oh, don't be 'zuch a wet blanket, Gabrielle." Fleur laughed as she sauntered to the door. Gabrielle fumed behind her and threw the makeshift towel she had used to dry her face with at the older girls retreating form, but the well placed closing of the door stopped it from making contact.
A stomping noise could be heard through that closed door, and Fleur found herself leaning against the hallways wall as she struggled to stay upright throughout her body-wracking giggles. It really had been too long since she had played a prank on her little sister—the younger girl's furious expression was really too amusing.
Once she had recovered, Fleur continued to glide gracefully down the corridor's of Beauxbaton's carriage. As she walked along, she received a plethora of congratulations and claps. Unable to help herself, she basked in the attention. For once, she was being recognised for something other than her beauty. It was a gratifying feeling.
Even girls, those who had glared and sneered at her back when they were at Beauxbaton palace, smiled and applauded her—expressions of distaste nowhere to be found. Though, she knew it wouldn't last, it was relieving not to be a victim of her fellow schoolmates constant jealousy. Furthermore, the extra limelight also helped to keep her from wallowing in her woes concerning Hermione's fury at her entering the tournament.
Soon enough, Fleur was being followed by a large group of girls and boys respectively, as they all made their way to the Great Hall for breakfast. Honestly, Fleur had never understood why they all found it fitting for her to lead. Oddly enough, it had become the trend ever since she had entered her name into the Goblet. Boy's and girls had began to crowd her, giggling and simpering.
It was quite bothersome. Especially when she wanted to sneak away to speak to Hermione—to gain the younger, wild-haired witches forgiveness; for what exactly, Fleur had no idea. But it was obviously very upsetting for Hermione, so naturally she wanted to fix whatever she had done. Though, however, she was beginning to become slightly infuriated at the bushy-haired Gryffindor's actions.
Because, really? What did she think Fleur came here for? Beauxbaton Academy had many more student's over the age of seventeen who had wanted to come along as well, but weren't allowed because they didn't want to enter. Fleur wasn't even asked. Madame Maxime had merely appeared at her dorm room one afternoon and told her to pack her bags; she was going to Hogwarts.
Shaking herself from her thoughts, Fleur glanced over to her left just as they began to enter Hogwarts; only to see Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived and Hermione's best friend, fire a curse at a similarly aged boy with blonde hair. Her step halted immediately when she saw the other boys spell had completely bypassed it's intended target and hit Hermione instead; who Fleur had'n previously seen standing beside Harry.
Blood boiling within her veins, a fierce protective instinct welled up inside of her at seeing her mate being put into any kind of danger—no matter how small—and before Fleur was aware of herself she was sprinting over to Hermione and pulling the younger girl's hands from where they were trying to conceal her mouth.
"Get out of 'ze way, you stupid boy." hissed Fleur, as she pushed the red-haired boy she assumed to be Hermione's other best friend—Ronald-something—out of her way. Ron backed away quickly, rapidly colouring as he did so; incapable of protest.
"F-Fleur—don't—" Hermione tried to prevent Fleur from moving her hands, to no avail.
"Merde. . ." Fleur gasped as she saw two rapidly growing front teeth. They had been already rather large before—something else Fleur had found completely adorable—but now they where reaching around five inches long. Whirling around, with deadly fury flashing brightly in her eyes, Fleur snarled at the blonde boy responsible and the group of people standing just slightly behind him
"You," her tone wasn't forgiving as she advanced, her wand clutched tightly in her gasp. "What eez you're name? I wish 'zo know it before I crush you like 'zee insignificant leetle bug you are. You 'ave made a grave mistake daring to 'urt my—"
Fleur was half-glad she was cut off by another, equally frightening voice. As it was, she wasn't quite ready to show Hermione just how important she was her, let alone the rest of Hogwarts.
"And what is all this racket about?" Fleur shivered as her gaze landed on a tall, imposing man. Pale and gaunt, with oily-looking jet-black hair and a hooked nose. If she hadn't been as angry as she was, she might of felt slightly intimidated. Obviously, the blonde-boy and his friends seemed to be more than a little scared of him—as did everyone else on the scene.
Rapidly, accusations and shouts began escaping the small group's mouths. Uninterested in anything else, Fleur ignored them all and once again focused her attentions back on Hermione, who was now clutching her long teeth and looking panic-stricken. It wasn't until the imposing man in dark robes made an insulting comment about how he saw 'no change' in Hermione's appearance, did Fleur find herself shouting herself; along with Harry and the Ronald boy. The tears that had sprung to her loves eyes had crumbled whatever sliver of composure she had been clinging to.
No one, no one, made her heart cry.
"'Ow dare you!" out of the corner of her eye, she saw Hermione's retreating form disappear into another hallway. "To see 'zuch disrespect 'ez astounding. I am disgusted to 'zee a professor of this 'zo-called prestigious school stooping 'zo low as to say something so immature and pety! You should be ashamed of yourself!"
Her rage-filled words were mostly unintelligible unfortunately, seeing as Harry and Ron had shouted as well—making the retorts sound more like a garbled mess. The dark-haired man's sneering expression, however, conveyed he had understood what they had been trying to communicate.
"Lets see," Fleur bristled further at the drawling sound of his voice, gritting her teeth as he looked down his nose at them haughtily. "Fifty points from Gryffindor and a detention each for Potter and Weasley. Now get inside, or it'll be a week's worth of detentions. Oh, and Delacour is it?" he arched an eyebrow, "I'll be speaking to your Headmistress promptly. I am sure she can think of a suitable punishment for you."
"Go ahead," she spat at him, before spinning on her heel and rushing in the direction Hermione had ran off in.
After fifteen minutes of wandering the large, labynrith of hallways, Fleur found herself knocking tentatively on a door marked 'Infirmary: Medi-Witch Pomfrey'. An older woman, dressed in typical nursing robes opened the door, a stern look on her face. Narrowed, dark eyes scrutinised Fleur before she spoke.
"Yes?" The impatience was palpable, and it made Fleur shift uncomfortably on her feet.
"I am looking for 'Ermione Granger," biting her lip, she paused. Taking her hat from her head and fiddling with it in front of her, she continued. "'Eez she 'ere, by any chance?" For some reason, the older witch made her feel like a naughty little school boy who was being scolded. It was a disconcerting feeling.
"Yes."
Fleur's already tense shoulders tensed further when the older witch made no move to allow her entry. Eyes darting around uncertainly and her brows pulling together in a furrow, Fleur bit her cheek before asking. "May. . . May I 'zee 'er? I only wish to make sure she 'eez okay."
The Veela's own impatience was beginning to seep through as well. The Medi-Witches behaviour was far from professional. All she wanted to do was check if her destined one was alright. Instead, she was being treated like some sort of vagabond!
"No." The Medi-Witch made to close the door in her face.
Just before it closed however, Fleur stuck her foot out to stop it from completely closing. Outrage was prominent on her face. "What do you mean 'no'? I demand to zee' her, right now!" This was unbelievable. She couldn't grasp why in the world the old woman would be acting so oddly.
The older, greying witch gave a heavy, exasperated sigh before opening the door again and staring at Fleur evenly. "Miss Granger does not want any visitors. I am only conceding to my patient's request. Now, I'm sure she will be finished shrinking her teeth within the hour. You can check on her at lunch, if you're so worried." she went to close the door again. "Goodbye Mademoiselle."
Fleur gaped at the closed door for a few moments before laughing incredulously.
"You know, I thought you were crazy before," Fleur whirled around, only to see Gabrielle standing a little ways down the hall, looking amused. "But 'zis surely proves you really are. . . what is the English expression? Mad as a 'atter, I theenk."
Fleur however, wasn't in a mood to be teased. "What do you want, Gabrielle?" she rolled her eyes, "Planning on getting me back for 'zis morning, perhaps?"
Gabrielle's face turned sour and coloured rapidly at the reminder of her 'wake up call'. Angrily, she crossed her arms. "I will get you back for that, 'zister," she assured, glowering. "'Owever, I am here on more important buziness'. 'Zey want all 'zee Champion's for photographs. Why they would want a picture of you though, escapes me. . ."
"You are a real comedian, Gabi." retorted Fleur sarcastically. "Lead 'zee way, 'zen little sister."
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Fleur kept her expression of neutrality on her face as she handed over her wand to the man who had been introduced as Mr. Olivander. The stout, chubby man had been staring at her hungrily for the last ten minutes, and it was making her increasingly uncomfortable.
She was in no way oblivious to the effect that her unintentional thrall had on men and boy's alike, but most didn't make their appreciation of her looks as blatant as he was. They would blush and stutter, but many usually became more resistant to the effects after the initial shock.
"Mademoiselle Delacour, would you mind—?" Mr. Olivander stepped forward, holding his hand out expectantly. Flipping her hair over her shoulder, Fleur ignored the shudder of disgust that coursed through her as the photographers eyes followed her movements intently.
"Hmm. . ." he examined her wand closely, he twirled it around like a baton and pink and gold sparks emitted from the end. "Nine and a half inches. . . inflexible.. rosewood.. . and containing. . . dear me. . ."
"The 'air from 'zee 'ead of a Veela," she interrupted, "From my grandmuzzer."
A warning glance was shot at Harry, who stared at her with wide eyes. She had not yet informed Hermione of her Veela blood. She would much rather she herself tell her, instead of the other girl finding out from someone else.
Photo's were then taken, and it was only after the overzealous Rita Skeeter was satisfied that they were allowed to leave. Fleur was the first to exit, glad to be finally out of proximity of the creepy, smoking photographer. When she finally reached the Great Hall, she was disappointed to find no Hermione. Sullenly, she continued to eat her food and make cordial small talk with the people at Ravenclaw table.
"Are you waiting for someone?" Cho Chang, a pretty oriental girl a few years younger than herself asked, causing Fleur to glance at her quizzically.
"Why do you ask?" Fleur couldn't help the way her eyes once again flickered quickly to the doors of the Great Hall. The absence of Hermione was worrying her. She was about ready to force herself into the Hospital Wing just to make sure her heart was really alright. It was weighing heavily on her nerves.
Cho smiled slightly as she replied. "You've been staring at the doors since you got here."
"It 'eez notheeng." Fleur shook her head, forcing her gaze down to her plate.
Before Cho could say anything else, however; a large, looming shadow was cast over them both. Frowning, Fleur turned in her seat, only to come face-to-waist with Madame Maxime. Swallowing her food and swiftly wiping her mouth with a napkin, Fleur spoke while craning her neck awkwardly to meet the tall woman's eyes. "'llo, 'eadmistress. To what do I owe 'zis pleasure?"
Madame Maxime did not look impressed, and Fleur had a sneaking suspicion that the imposing, greasy-haired man from earlier had something to do with it. "I request 'zo speak with you in my office immediately, Mademoiselle Delacour. I have had 'zome rather. . . unsavoury complaints about you from on of the profezzor's 'ere. Also, I need to inform you of 'zomething concerning the upcoming task."
Fleur stood up from her seat, casing an apologetic look as Cho, she then turned to Madame Maxime. "Of course, 'eadmistress."
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Note: Okay, so about the French conversation thing—I'm going to keep it the same. Honestly, there isn't really going to be that much dialogue in French anyway, seeing as they are at Hogwarts. Furthermore, I'm going to be switching POV's every chapter between Hermione and Fleur.
There hasn't been that much interaction between Fleur/Hermione yet, but that will change soon, I promise. Oh, and this relationship is going to be very slowly developing. I mean, going from close friends to lovers doesn't happen quickly. There's the whole 'their friendship could be ruined' and 'do they feel the same way?'. Plus, they are teenagers. Insecurities rule their lives—Hermione especially so.
Have questions? Feel free to PM me or just add it into your review. xD