the closest to being in control we will ever be
is in that moment that we realise we're not.
~Brian Kessler
viii. biding time
The chatty ambiance in the classroom quickly snapped to one of a sombre silence as soon as the door opened and closed shut. The greasy, poised figure of Severus Snape walked in without looking at any of the brats in his classroom, paying no regard to the questioning looks of horror on the faces of the Gryffindors.
Black robes and greasy black hair followed the Potions Master in his wake whilst he strode down the aisle of Lupin's Defence Against the Dark Arts class, flicking his wand about his head every so interval to shut each and every window as he went. Most students were watching him warily whilst he walked to the fore of the class, right by the large white projection screen. Draco and Pansy smirked as the most of the Slytherins watched with glee how Professor Snape did a quick glance about the classroom with his glacially attentive eyes and drawled his instructions.
"Turn to page three hundred and ninety four." Snape kept the usual brogue in his voice and the students hastily followed his instructions, the Gryffindors exchanging wary glances first. Fleur didn't even look at her book while she sat in between Draco and Pansy.
Snape noticed Fleur's indifference to his authority but made sure to leer casually at any Gryffindors, namely Ron, who were making slow work of following his orders as he treaded back down the aisle of students. The sound of slowly turning pages and muffled exasperated breaths adjoined his flat soles upon the floor as he walked.
Harry, the prat, had the gall to try and make eye contact with Snape while he left his book alone and spoke his mind. Snape looked at him as if he had made a dire mistake, though his usual coldness was still about himself while he regarded Harry.
"Excuse me, sir," was Harry's small attempt at strained politeness. "Where's Professor Lupin?"
"It's not really your concern, is it Potter?" Snape pursed his lips momentarily and continued his walk, raising his voice ever so slightly to speak to the class at large. "Suffice it to say that your Professor finds himself incapable of teaching at the present time." Snape reached the podium at the back of the classroom and tapped the magical slide machine with his wand as he spoke a tad louder now, for emphasis and a reminder that this was his classroom. "Turn to page three hundred and ninety four."
When Ron appeared to be taking an unusually long amount of time to find the intended page, Snape's mouth thinned while his wand helped the poor boy along a little faster. Ron took a second to realise exactly what page his book was opened to, and widened his eyes considerably in shock and mild protest.
"Werewolves…?" Ron asked incredulously. Hermione seemingly appeared out of nowhere next to Harry and whipped around to face Snape, her eyes burning questionably at the substitute teacher.
"But sir, we've just begun learning about Red Caps and Hinkypunks. We're not meant to start nocturnal beings for weeks."
"Quiet," Snape droned, eyes boring dangerously into Hermione's.
Ron turned about and gaped at her, completely baffled as to when she came in. He whispered his concerns to Harry who looked just as clueless as he while Hermione just now retrieved her book from her bag.
"Now," Snape continued as the projection began and he walked back to the fore of the room, "which one of you can tell me the difference between an Animagus and a Werewolf?" Naturally, Hermione raised her hand, looking at Snape with her usual attentiveness of academia. Snape's back was to her as he continued on, not even looking at anyone else as he walked. "No one?" He reached the projection and slowly turned on his heel, hands clasped at his waist. "How disappointing."
"Please, sir," Hermione began, Snape's face falling into a frown while he regarded her. "An Animagus is a wizard who elects to turn into an animal. A Werewolf has no choice. With each full moon when he transforms he no longer remembers who he is. He'd kill his best friend if he crossed his path. Furthermore, a Werewolf only responds to the call of his own kind."
"Awoooo!" Draco cried mockingly while he turned to face Pansy, both of them sniggering at Hermione's annoyance. Fleur ignored the activity, noting more what Draco was so busy doodling on his parchment with his uninjured hand while Snape spoke with a flat curtness to his student.
"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy." While the slides changed from a drawing to the proportions of a Werewolf to a vase showing a depiction of a Werewolf and two humans, in profile, the Werewolf eating one man while Snape faced Hermione and slowly began his walk once more. "That is the second time you've spoken out of turn, Miss Granger." Hermione scowled at him as much as she could get away with in the classroom, trying to not be hurt by his next words. "Are you incapable of restraining yourself or do you take pride in being an insufferable know-it-all?"
Snape put a very keen emphasis on his final words and his eyes flickered slightly at Hermione's angry defeat while she directed her gaze downward.
"He's got a point, you know," Ron whispered to Harry. Neither Snape nor Hermione appeared to have heard him.
"Five points from Gryffindor." The Gryffindors all clicked their tongues and sighed in protest while Draco placed his note atop his hands, now in the shape of a crane before he smirked thoughtfully and blew it over to Harry, Ron and Hermione's desk. "As an antidote to your ignorance," Snape continued, "hand on my desk, by Monday morning, two rolls of parchment on the Werewolf," everyone groaned but Fleur and Hermione, the latter of whom had a suspicious glint in her eyes after Harry caught Draco's parchment. Fleur simply didn't care, "with particular emphasis on recognising it."
"Sir, it's Quidditch tomorrow," Harry fought back while Snape stood not too far from his, Ron and Hermione's desk. Snape made quick work to place his hands atop the desk, his hooked nose practically in Harry's face while he spoke of his dearest sentiments on the mild complication.
"Then I suggest you take extra care, Mr. Potter." Harry surveyed Snape's eyes with a flicker of surprise and modest indifference whilst he listened to the Potion Master's ever meticulous pronunciations. "Loss of limb will not excuse you. Page three hundred and ninety four," Snape repeated when he noticed Harry had still failed to open his text to the asked page.
The rest of Snape's lecturing was drowned out by Harry who had now opened the parchment, Ron and Hermione looking on with slightly frightened interest while they watched the poorly drawn doodle Draco had made. Harry immediately turned his head to look at Draco questioningly after glancing at it, but the blond merely leered right back at him, raising his eyebrows momentarily for emphasis through Snape's droning. The sneer on his and Pansy's faces contrasted starkly with Fleur's bored visage. Hermione took a moment to glare at her, though her rage went largely unnoticed and only received a snigger from Draco and Pansy. Harry, too, looked at Fleur. But the surprise on his face turned to fear.
The fear was much more pronounced when he and Hermione turned back to the parchment, a doodle of Harry flying on his broomstick and occasionally being struck by lightning while what appeared to be Pansy continued to throw Bludgers at him and screeching 'HAHAHA!' Not to mention his scar was in the shape of an L..
But the biggest surprise was yet to come the following morning at eleven 'o clock sharp.
"I can't believe this!" Ron bellowed to the winds while he and Hermione sat in the Gryffindor stands in the Quidditch Pitch. "I just can't believe this!" he repeated vehemently, the rain picking up strongly and the wind whipping their crimson cloaks about.
"They couldn't be bothered to touch base with Wood ahead of time!" Hermione cried, Neville loosing his footing and stumbling on her. He quickly apologised and joined in the conversation.
"I'm sure Harry'll be fine!" he assured them. "But Dean says Fred 'n George actually looked terrified! Fred! George! Terrified! Not like 'em at all!"
"I know!" Ron shouted, thunder roaring dangerously while they continued to wait for the teams to come out to the field. "They've been prepped for Hufflepuff's defence this entire time! I bet you anything Snape had something to do with it!"
"Oh honestly Ron!" Hermione reprimanded, "don't go about assuming things! I'm sure there was just a bit of a mix-up—"
"A bit of a mix up?" Seamus interjected angrily, "Hermione, this ain't no tiny mix-up! Who cares if she's inexperienced? For all we know she may've been practisin' 'er 'ole life!"
"I saw 'er flyin' tha' other day!" Neville added fearfully, Hermione for once unable to even scowl while the boys listened to him earnestly. "I think she may even be better tha' Harry! I dunno 'ow she does it, but she's go' skill."
"Who's got skill?" Ginny came and asked, really only to keep the conversation going with her own fears simmering in her stomach like three quarters of the rest of the school.
Her needless question was answered, however, when the teams finally came out onto the field. The Slytherins were hollering and clapping louder than the rest, their emerald cloaks nearly glowing in contrast to the stark wood of the stadium and the gray rain clouds. The Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and especially the Gryffindors were trying their best to clap for the crimson players, but it seemed difficult. Even Harry looked rather pale; he and many of his teammates were also temporarily struck dumb from Fleur's thrall.
The only girl to ever be on the team strutted out in her jade and platinum Quidditch robes, right at the fore next to her Captain and Chaser, Marcus Flint. She had her weight on one side, her hip cocked slightly with her knee bent while she dug her black and platinum Nimbus 2001, courtesy of Draco, into the soaked grass underneath her feet. Her russet equipment, including flat shoes for once, as well as her robes, broom, face and hair were completely untouched by the pouring rain. She managed to Impervius herself, something no one else seemed to think of. She had no need for silly goggles either. Fleur licked the outer rim of her teeth, smoothing down her cream pants and observing her shin and arm guards before boring her eyes into Harry's fearful emerald ones behind his goggles.
Bole and Derrick, the Beaters, looked extremely smug and were grinning wonderfully at Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet and Angelina Johnson. Bletchley, the Keeper, was also smirking at the Gryffindor Chasers, as well as the flabbergasted look upon Oliver Wood's face. Montague and Warrington, the other two Slytherin Chasers, were picking up the rear and eyeing Harry dangerously. Flint shifted his smug eyes from Wood to Fred and George every so often, smirking more and more every time.
Fleur herself was looking passive, Flint smirking and nodding to her before he and Wood walked to the centre ring without cue from Madam Hooch. Lee Jordan was making some strained commentary about the last minute changes in matchups while the teams continued to size each other up.
"W-well, what with the schedule change and Malfoy's, ahem, injuries…" McGonagall cut Lee a stern look before he shrugged and continued on, "…Slytherin's Reserve Seeker as of just this year, Fleur Delacour, Third Year, takes the spot in a real game for the first time. According to Flint, she'd just become Reserve Seeker not too long ago for her own private reasons… I've heard stories about her flying… Turns out she's just as beautiful as she is skilled!"
The Slytherins in the stands cheered and whooped loudly to this, and the rest of the school paled considerably, on top of the bone-chilling rain already. Fleur seemed to embody the intimidation of the Slytherin team, as well as the entire House itself while her hair blew about behind her, shimmering even in the murky weather.
Hooch gave Wood and Flint the order to shake hands, and Flint took notice with a smirk the way Wood winced at Fleur before the two gripped hands and turned to walk back to their respective teams. Flint nodded to Fleur, who merely regarded him and gave a small nod of her own before turning back to intimidate the Gryffindor team.
Wood shouted to his team to not give in to the Slytherin's dirty tactics while they mounted their brooms and waited for the signal to begin the match. He gave clear instructions to the boys to not let Fleur's thrall get to them too much, even though he was fighting back blushes and his own lustful stares in her direction.
There were no cheers of 'Go, Go, Gryffindor!' this match. The only resounding cheers that they could hear was from the Slytherin stands, riling Fleur up and making crude sexual jokes to Harry to avoid accidentally shoving his broomstick anywhere in Fleur's direction. The Slytherin team merely guffawed, Fleur herself allowing a small smirk in Harry's direction, whereupon the poor boy blushed profusely.
Meanwhile, in the stands, Hermione was watching the exchange fearfully. Ron was purple in the face, not that Hermione noticed, and Seamus, Neville, Ginny and Dean were engrossed in deep conversation about Fleur's skills. They tried to reason that she was very good but they still needed Gryffindor to win. They sounded very uncertain of themselves while the whistle sounded.
While the teams began to take off and Lee Jordan immediately began his commentary, Fleur averted her gaze from Harry's crimson face to Hermione's fearful one. They held eye contact for a very long time, Hermione completely baffled as to why Fleur singled her out and was staring at her, and why she herself couldn't look away. Hermione was terrified for Harry because she believed the stories about Fleur's skills; she wouldn't put it past the Slytherins to win the match, even if they did cheat. But, perhaps, they could attest at least one victory to playing fairly and winning because of the newest addition to their team.
The stare continued to last. Hermione tried to narrow her eyes, but it was nearly impossible for her frozen face to move. The rain and wind were more powerful than ever now, and Fleur merely continued to gaze lazily at her. Fleur's azures somehow managed to stand out so much more against the grey skies, her natural grace following her even whilst she sat on a broomstick. The tautness was thick between their eyes, but it was soon smashed by the axe of the Quaffle, Bludgers, and Snitch being released in their own respective places and Fleur was off.
It took Hermione a very long time to realise that her eyes, binocular-aided or not, never left Fleur during the match.
Fleur was gripping her broomstick safely, just enough to avoid being knocked off while she gained altitude and began scanning for a mild golden glint. Harry was circling the pitch, his form leaving much to be desired now that he was clearly nervous. He tried to keep his eyes off of Fleur, but it was difficult to not watch in wonder how she could fly as confidently and elegantly as she walked and carried herself on the ground.
Her body curled about like a cat whenever she turned, or maybe even a lion on the prowl while she, too, circled the pitch, mindful of stray Bludgers that Bole and Derrick were only too happy to keep out of harm's way for her. Her back stayed upright whenever she hovered passively, and whenever she did fly forward her back was all too eager to become perfectly parallel with Draco's broom. The Slytherins were chanting her name like the burly crowd they were, and Harry was thrown by Lee's subsequent commentary and forced his eyes from lingering on Fleur's body any longer.
"And Montague's scored once more… Slytherin leads forty to nothing," Lee droned sadly. The Slytherins cheered their heads off once more and went back to chanting Fleur's name. "Again, Fleur Delacour is doing wonderfully for her first shot. Dodging Bludgers with ease… her size is just right for a Seeker… Thin and tall for great manoeuvring and aerodynamics… Oh and it looks like Flint's scored this time… Slytherin leads fifty nothing… Gryffindor really needs to pick up the pace here, we're in shambles…"
Harry sighed and dodged a Bludger that Derrick sent at him, his eyes darting back to Fleur who was still circling the pitch like a hawk. He thought back to the lesson they had with Professor Lupin and the Boggart. He was extremely perplexed when Fleur's Boggart changed to a Dementor and she actually fought it off with a Patronus Charm.
Lupin had praised her exceedingly, clarifying to the class that its shape took the form of a sphinx. Beautiful, riddle-ridden and strong – he'd said that her Patronus was such a perfect fit as expected. Naturally, Hermione was furious and jealous of her performance. Harry, however, pondered asking Fleur how she learnt such a spell so advanced but could only consult Lupin for assistance. But it appeared that Fleur, too, had a nasty vulnerability to Dementors.
Harry found a small connection to the part Veela, and the two began exchanging curt nods whenever they passed each other in the corridors. Hermione sniffed and went on long rants whenever this happened, and Ron would ramble on and on about how lucky his friend was to receive her attention, but Harry had learned to pay his friends no mind.
"Oh! Fleur seems to have spotted something! Look at her go! Wait… oh, blimey, whatever… Do you see her, you lot? Like a hawk, she is!" Lee bellowed to the audience. The Slytherins hooted louder than ever while the rest could only look on in amazement.
Harry shut his eyes and jerked his head slightly while he reprimanded himself for his laziness before spotting Fleur's twittering emerald robes and zooming off after her. Malfoy's broom was a notch above Harry's now meagre Nimbus 2000, and he was having much difficulty keeping up, let alone catching up in the first place. It seemed as if Fleur only continued to soar faster and faster, farther and farther away.
Fleur kept up as fast as she could, at now dangerous speeds while she followed the Snitch. Her eyes were narrowed dangerously while she followed the flittering gold, noting that she may crash into the stands at any second if it kept its course and she couldn't catch it. She wasn't close enough to extend her arm, and only let the adrenaline fill her and speed her up as Draco advised her.
Her wonderful experience in the air just months ago fuelled her decision to join the Slytherin Quidditch team, even if only as a Reserve player. Flint had automatically given her the Reserve Seeker spot after Fleur's insistence to not take Draco's spot completely. Draco soured slightly and from then on drilled her in the art of flying his broom. He apologised for his antics in Hagrid's class that day soon after, and she forgave him and continued on with her lessons. Brooms could not compare to Buckbeak at all, but it was good enough.
And the Snitch did indeed lead her right to the stands, only making a sharp change in direction up and forcing her to veer her broom right after it after nearly colliding with Hermione and Neville. Neville had jumped for cover while Hermione only stared on, simply amazed that she was flying so well and Harry still hadn't caught up to her. The almost crazed look of concentration in Fleur's eyes had rooted her to the spot. She didn't even feel fearful that Fleur and the Snitch were making a beeline to her at horrifying speeds. Ron bellowed incredulously at her frozen state but she couldn't hear him; she was too busy keeping her eyes on Fleur's slowly disappearing emerald and platinum robes, her blonde locks fluttering in her wake.
Hermione swallowed and retrieved her binoculars, her gaze still never leaving Fleur's body.
Higher and higher in the skies Fleur went, Harry barely on her heel. Her heartbeats began to thunder in a nervous delight from the thrill, the possible win, and even the satisfaction from her House cheering her off in the far distance. Lee's still shrill commentary about her exceptional abilities was even wonderful. A deadly sneer adorned her features while she kept on higher through the cutting rain, almost close enough to extend her arm. She didn't even notice her soaked broom beginning to freeze on the spot while the air began to chill and freeze more and more.
Harry was shouting something but she couldn't hear; the wind was ripping at her ears comfortably and she didn't want to hear anything else. Even the stunned look on Hermione's face helped to speed her up just a little more, her arm finally able to extend with some assurance that she would soon catch the Snitch. But, again, yet another change in direction made the annoying little twit zoom horizontally behind Fleur, whereupon she immediately stopped and arched her body backwards, quickly spinning about to become right-side up again and zoom right after the Snitch once more. She barely heard Lee praise her flying while she kept following the gold higher again, Harry still shouting and Fleur still not hearing nor caring about what he had to say.
Her hand was precariously close to being able to clasp the Snitch, nearly any second now, but then she finally noticed what Harry was so busy crying about back there. A large group of Dementors was swarming the skies, flying right after her. She took note of her frozen broom, the water surrounding it having frozen instead of the Imperviused broom itself. Fleur fought back the attacks of screams and morbid recollections threatening to throw her from her broom, still going onward.
Further and further she went, Harry finally having caught up with her and was urging her back down. She blatantly ignored him, using all of her diminishing willpower to keep chasing the Snitch that he was even reaching for. Her Slytherin instincts were telling her to kick the idiot boy away, but she doubted her multitasking skills at the moment. Her nails were so close to grazing the Snitch that it sent another jolt of adrenaline through her, and yet everything else had such horrible timing –
One Dementor in particular became so close to them that it blocked Harry's path, sucking the very life from him and eliciting a loud cry from the boy. His entire body was pulled right with the current of his happiness, diagonally and then downward as he tried to fight the thing and keep going. Meanwhile, another Dementor was doing the same to Fleur, her own frustrated cries filling the air right with Harry's. She finally gave in to the freezing cold and the emptiness within, her broom still going and her nails somehow managing to encroach the Snitch before she and Harry fell from their brooms at the same time.
Fleur shut her eyes in mental pain from the memories of familial screams and blood tainting her mind, but some part of her still held onto the Snitch. She and Harry continued to fall right through the clouds and biting rain, the wind now cutting her terribly and her mind slowly going blank from shock. She could only open her eyes momentarily right when her body had curled about to have her facing down, the sudden fear of the altitude striking her horribly right with the loudening cries of shock from the school. She saw that Harry was completely unconscious, and before she gave in to the loss of control herself, she and Hermione finally made eye contact once more, the fearful intensity in the girl's eyes somehow sustaining her, even for a second…
Well, Fleur joked to herself sarcastically before drifting off, at least Slytherin won fairly thanks to her, even if she was completely frustrated and terrified of the lack of control she was experiencing from freefalling at such great heights…
Hermione awoke frighteningly early that morning – five 'o clock. The first thing she noted to herself was that she woke up smiling – not a rarity anymore since her friendship with Fleur began to blossom. She'd gotten a good night of rest really, and she tried to go back to sleep after she'd awoken but nothing seemed to be working. Breakfast wouldn't start for a few more hours, and she made up her mind with a task with which to occupy her time while she got out of bed and washed up for the day.
After changing to her uniform and retrieving her quill, ink, and a fair bit of parchment, she walked quietly down to the Common Room and sat in her favourite chair. She looked out the window and noticed a bit of pre-winter snow already falling in the still dark sky. After subconsciously smiling at that same corner in the room and then at Crookshanks who'd fallen asleep on the hearthrug, she set her ink bottle and parchment on the table in front of her and chewed her quill thoughtfully. She knew they'd understand, but she was simply having difficulty wording her thoughts…
Dear Mum and Dad,
How are you? I hope you're both doing well. Classes and things are still the same here, and I've been nearly consumed with prepping for finals in about a week and a half's time. Harry, Ron and Ginny say hello as well. We were just talking about you the other day and so I figured I'd write you.
I'm not sure if I'll be going to the Burrow for the holidays, but I'm sure Ron and Ginny will invite me along. I know you don't mind but I'll be sure to drop by for a while on Christmas Day and before I return to Hogwarts.
But what I didn't mention in my letter a while ago was that I made a new friend. Her name's Fleur Delacour and she's one of the few people here who isn't Scottish or English. She's French, actually. I've spent a lot of time with her, telling of what we all did whenever we went on holiday to France. Fleur's in my year and she's a Slytherin. Yes, I know I told you that Slytherin isn't a very friendly House, but she's an exception. For the longest time I didn't even like her because I'd assumed that she was snobby and mean just because of her…appearances. It was horrible of me, I know. But I've learnt my lesson.
It's funny how she and I became friends, really… She's the one that I've been taking care of because of the flower incident. I didn't mention her name at the time because it was hard enough to tell you both about the huge mistake I made. She isn't angry at me at all, really. We've grown to be such close friends…maybe even closer than I am with the others. I don't think it strange, but a lot of people here do. I've learned to ignore them, though. It's just old hen talk.
But I really need to tell you something else about her. I mean, for one she's part Veela. Veela are magical creatures, usually women, who are strikingly beautiful and have the ability to use their thralls to seduce whomever they wish. It's a bit annoying for her, I think, that people gawk at her so. I think Ron and Harry are still having trouble with it, but they've gotten much better as far as I can tell. Still…she's only a quarter Veela and yet she's still so gorgeous. Tall, blonde hair, blue eyes, a bit of a French accent, and she's very intimidating until you get to know her…
I suppose what I'm trying to say is that I've taken a strong liking to her. We've become such close friends over time, and I've told myself to just get a feel for how things go between us before I try to pin down my feelings with words. She has no idea how I feel. I'm not sure but…writing this, now, I feel like I want to tell her. I don't think she feels the same way since she's so guarded. I'm afraid of ruining things between us if she gets scared about what I tell her. But then again she isn't the type to scare easily… I don't know. I'm just so confused. I'm not worried that she's a woman. Oh, and… I suppose I should tell you that she's twenty. A lot of unfortunate circumstances happened unto her.
So now I'm wondering what to do. I know I'm okay now, but whenever I see her I just get this…feeling. It wasn't until last night that I realised it may have something to do with love. I don't think I'm in love with her…not yet. But I'm falling for her, dangerously, and I'm almost positive that she doesn't feel the same way. Well… I'm not sure. I get the feeling that she can do so much better than me. She deserves the best and I'm sure I'd probably only hold her back. But I'm the only one who knows her this deeply… it's frustrating.
Anyway, before I bore you with any more talk of that, I'll end it here. The Weasleys will be picking me up from King's Cross and I'll be at the Burrow unless I notify you otherwise before term ends. I miss you both terribly and I'm really looking forward to seeing you and the rest of the family on Christmas. Until then.
Love,
Hermione
After a few careful rereads, Hermione nodded to herself, satisfied with her letter before she wondered what to do. It was far too cold out to go to the Owlery at this hour, but she still had another hour until breakfast began. She collected her things and went back to her dormitory. While she retrieved her cloak, she paused when her eyes lingered on Fleur's Head Girl badge. Hermione smiled slightly and pocketed the badge, making a mental note to return it to Fleur before going back downstairs and climbing out of the portrait hole.
She didn't even notice that she was smiling whilst she meandered the corridors, her mind filled to the brim with thoughts of Fleur. It seemed foolish to linger on what she was feeling for her friend, most especially when she questioned whether Fleur even felt the same way. But she was hit with a pang of the recollection from last night and she nearly stopped in her tracks but instead decided to speed up.
But Fleur wouldn't do that for the sole reason of drying her off. Hermione frowned slightly in frustration, but her mouth quickly switched to a grin while she surmised that Fleur was telling her something with the gesture. Hermione most especially couldn't forget how good it felt. The nerves in her stomach were whispering to her that she wanted to feel it again. And again. And again… Again and again and again and again until…
Hermione caught herself and shut her eyes briefly, grumbling to herself under her breath. No it wasn't like her, but she was allowed her own private thoughts. She didn't even notice that she was already outside, the sun now starting to rise whilst she continued to trek to the Owlery. It wasn't that cold out, but it was cold enough to remind her of the nearing winter while she saw the tower not too far away.
She made herself keep her fantasising to a bare minimum while she walked up the spiral staircase, feeling a distinct sting and tingle in her legs while she did. And one in between her legs as well. Hermione bit her lip and tried to continue on, quickly finding a tawny owl and sending it off with the letter to her parents. The smell was getting to become unbearable while she shook her head and scampered out, stopping just as she got out the doorway.
The colours in the sky just over the expansive lake - a rising violet over a darkening yellow… Hermione smiled, her mind already comparing the yellow to the blonde of Fleur's hair. And the blue sky just above the violet was of course Fleur's eyes. There was a very familiar tapping against her chest while she observed. It was warm and all too familiar now. She wished Fleur was there with her, holding her even…
Another pang hit her when she realised that she was still so uncertain about how Fleur felt. But Fleur did say I love you. That, her actions, how comfortable she was, the possible flirting… There was no other explanation! It sent yet another uncomfortable jolt throughout her, however, because she didn't want to assume. Assumptions, assumptions… Hermione was growing frustrated once more but still somehow wanted to smile at the end of it all. She needed to ask Fleur. Eventually… For now, she could be content with simply gazing out into Fleur's wonders in the form of colours in the sky. But she could do so much more than gaze and stare. A lot more…
More time passed during which Hermione did absolutely nothing to act on her feelings. A lot more time passed with Hermione openly staring at Fleur whenever they were with Harry, Ron and Ginny. Fleur was surprisingly friendly with her friends. They'd grown to be Fleur's new bodyguards of sorts from her incessant fan club. The woman was extremely charming with them all, not that Hermione was suspicious. She was simply expecting a little more withdrawal on Fleur's part. Malfoy and everyone else seemed to be making an effort to stay out of their paths and didn't even look at them anymore whenever they were around. Hermione had made a mental note to talk to Fleur about them once finals were over. And she made a note to talk about certain other things; the prospect that she would keep her raging sentiments to herself until that time came was the only thing that held her over.
And now that she was finished with her last exam for the term, all she could do was sit idly and stare at the front of the room while she tuned out the scratching of quills and shifting of parchment. Hermione gathered that History of Magic was not Fleur's strong point when they studied together in the library; she seemed disinterested in it altogether, really. Or maybe it was just the topic that they were reviewing at the time; Fleur couldn't seem to keep her eyes on her book at all.
But now that she was thinking about it for the fiftieth time, something seemed strange about that.
It was extremely late that evening but Fleur chose to stay and help Hermione review a few finer points for their final tomorrow. Hermione was engaged in her book, reading over the last few pages of the text before asking Fleur any more questions on the topic. But while her eyes were so focused on the words in front of her, she hadn't noticed another pair of eyes across from her focusing directly on her.
Hermione eventually finished the book and took a deep breath while she looked up at Fleur. It didn't register in her mind that Fleur had been watching her the entire time while they both smiled at each other. Though the curl of Fleur's lips seemed to be rather coy. Her eyes were also lidded and dark again. This certainly wasn't like her…or maybe it was.
"Fleur, are you all right?" Hermione asked worriedly.
"I'm fine."
"Are you sure? You seem rather tired…"
"Fatigue isn't anything to be worried about."
"Well it's awfully late… perhaps we should leave. I've read the final chapter plenty of times now and I'm sure you have."
"No, only once."
"And you understand it just fine?" Hermione appeared to be slightly baffled by this, and Fleur's smile widened.
"There are more important things to read and understand, Hermione…"
And with that, Fleur put her things away and slung her bag over her shoulder. She folded her arms over her chest and watched the questions and hope flicker in Hermione's eyes in the dim light of the library. A very long time passed, during which they could only stare at one another. The slight slack to Hermione's jaw seemed to make understanding indeed run its course in Fleur's mind while she bent down.
The shifting of Fleur's robes and bag and proximity all seemed to happen at once for Hermione, and it took longer than normal for her to feel her flushed face cupped in both of Fleur's palms. They felt cold for a moment until the warmth was shared with her hands and her eyes. Fleur's smile honestly reached her eyes while she stared into Hermione's that were searching so desperately for something. Anything else… A cue, a clue, a plea, permission; anything…
But Hermione didn't quite know how to read Fleur this way as of yet. She tried her hardest to learn and to master given the limited space and time that they had before Madam Pince shooed them out. The slight tug that Fleur was exerting on her face, towards her, should have sent signals off… But the signals were muffled and awry because of how much they were busy setting her hormones off at the moment from Fleur's increasing closeness. Her back was curled about in that same manner, the glow in her skin was becoming more and more apparent, and the fine details of the hair covering her eye were becoming clearer. But Fleur's intentions were not, especially when she angled her face to the side and slid one hand down Hermione's neck on the same side.
All Hermione felt was cold slipping down her flushed skin. Like ice; molten ice their skin touching skin had become between them while Fleur moved her mouth to Hermione's ear. Hermione could almost hear every other tiny sound in the air combust into nothing while Fleur's naturally more perfect figure came to take their place. Hermione never wanted her to leave; the place was hers and she was all too willing to let her have it for as long as she desired. But Hermione wondered what was brewing between her moistening ear and Fleur's lips now.
She realised with a horrible pang that the nail of Fleur's thumb was residing on her throat in such a way that she could feel her insane pulse. She slowly registered the everlasting scent of chocolate, parchment, and the tiny smell of her thrall. Did it really have a smell, Hermione wondered… But the wondering was smashed to bits and left her with nothing to think about except for soft, perfectly uttered letters and words in the shape of Fleur's deep voice.
"You're looking too hard… Try again when you aren't trying so hard to find something."
"I'm… Fleur, you—"
"Do you know what one of the hardest things about life is…?"
"No… what…?"
"Having words in your heart that you can't utter… Usually it's just better to act on them than to try and make sense of them so soon… But how do you act on them…? How…"
Words were stymied inside of Hermione; an internal flutter was fanning too much of a good thing and rendering her useless. All she could do was feel Fleur breathe in her ear and caress her face and neck with her thumbs. There was nothing Hermione could analyse because she didn't want to. She was acting on what her heart was telling her, and it was screaming loudly for her to close her eyes and feel. It shouted and yelled from the very depths of her being and warmed her so much with the explosion of sounds in such confines of her body. There wasn't enough room for what she was bottling inside of her; she needed to share it…
But there was so much noise inside of her. So many words and impulses and cheers and doubts and memories of her and Fleur together that she didn't know what to do with herself… Instead she merely sat there like a fool and stared even while Fleur held her hand out to her. Hermione came back to reality soon after and hurried to put her things away. After slinging her bag over her shoulder, she took Fleur's hand and let her friend, just a friend, walk her back to the Gryffindor Tower like she did every night.
Fleur always held her hand whenever they went on this walk. Fleur always held her hand whenever they went on walks on the grounds, Hermione only managing to feel confident talking about the weather and classes. Fleur even always held her hand in the hallways whenever she'd walk her to class. People stared and people knew, but only people could see the out of place smile on Fleur's lips whenever they walked together. Hermione was always so busy thinking and thinking, convincing herself to wait until term was over before jumping to any conclusions. Fleur often told her to loosen up but Hermione would always be so caught up in her mental discipline that she didn't know how to go about doing that.
Even now, walking so close to Fleur and feeling her hand that was slightly larger than hers clasp her own…it was difficult. Difficult to keep up with the discipline and to let her worries and fears and doubts cloud her in a more reprimanding manner than a manner that she simply couldn't help but worry and fear and doubt. But tomorrow was the last day of term. Tomorrow was the final string of the web of hesitation she'd woven for herself.
She couldn't even ask Fleur to go to the Burrow with her and the others, but Ginny was only too happy to ask her along. Hermione couldn't bring herself to tell anyone but Ginny, who passed it on to Harry and Ron, that she'd written Mr. and Mrs. Weasley countless times, telling them about Fleur ahead of time, just in case. Of course Fleur obliged politely. Such poise, such strength, such will of character…
"I'm surprised," Fleur said gently after some time.
"By what?" Hermione asked airily.
"You haven't mentioned the weather or classes this entire time. Or anything else for that matter."
"I just have a lot on my mind…"
"Yes, I've noticed the change in you. But I figured it wouldn't be wise to bring it up unless you said something first."
"Oh…" How considerate of her… Hermione smiled just as they walked up the last staircase to the portrait of the Fat Lady. "I… I'm just worried that I'm reading things incorrectly."
"You seem quite literate to me, Hermione," Fleur mused.
"What…? N-no! No, Fleur… It has to do with you."
"Mmm…what about me?"
"I'm trying to wait until term is over before I try and tell you."
"You're trying too hard."
They had stopped and were standing in front of the portrait for a long time, Hermione merely staring up at Fleur and trying to memorise the shape Fleur's hand took in hers before they let go. Fleur made an attempt to let go, but Hermione gripped a little harder for some ounce of support. The russet of their surroundings was contrasting so starkly with Fleur, easily paling in comparison to her figure. Fleur's smile was creeping down, finally settling into a neutral expression while she eased Hermione into a parting embrace.
Hermione finally let go of her hand to hold her properly, burying her face in Fleur's neck to at least taste her warmth and aura with her skin for as long as she could. At this rate Hermione feared that Fleur suspected what was going on and was tactfully trying to avoid it.
But the assuring squeeze she received suffocated the thought. Fleur's hugs were always something of great value to Hermione…and she didn't want to risk losing that luxury. There was just something about the way Fleur's strong arms fit the contours of her body so perfectly. Even the kiss on her head was perfect; a key and lock to the warmth that she'd been deprived of on this level her whole life…
And the hug was over far too soon when Fleur pulled away. Fleur always pulled away first. It always stung when she did but only Fleur was aware enough to realise that time was ticking and they had other things to do except for hold each other. But Hermione wondered if Fleur could sense this whenever she'd look into her eyes just before they had to go their separate ways. The assuring smile Fleur would give her seemed to say enough. And Hermione received one just like all of the other ones, except this one seemed slightly more encouraging than anything before she turned to walk back down to the dungeons. But Fleur never looked back, only adding to Hermione's confusion…
And it was all of this combined that would make Hermione rush to her dormitory, shut her curtains, place a Silencing Charm on them and curl up in bed while she cried herself to sleep every night.
Like clockwork, Fleur was waiting for the Trio, or really only Hermione, to emerge from History of Magic class once they were out. Her face was set and her arms were folded until she spotted Hermione; she immediately lit up considerably while she towered over the mob of students going to the Great Hall for dinner before their trek to Hogsmeade Station.
Hermione couldn't seem to manage a very genuine smile while she felt her body float over to Fleur, her legs seemingly out of order as of late whenever the woman was around. Harry and Ron greeted Fleur brightly and she returned the salutations before embracing Hermione and taking her by the hand to walk to Ginny's classroom.
The other three knew that Hermione was biding her time. Hermione could have sworn that she walked in on them concocting some devious schemes to get her and Fleur together, but no one had any solid proof that Fleur's feelings were any more than extremely friendly. It was something they knew was bothering her to no end, and it was all she could do to not let it interfere with her schoolwork. But now that school was generally out of the way save for homework over the holidays, she was running out of excuses to find out anything more.
Once they met up with Ginny, the five of them all walked to the Great Hall, everyone but Hermione taking note that Fleur had opened the double doors to let Hermione in first. She walked right inside, still in a daze, not noticing the eyebrow raising going on behind her and Fleur. She wasn't sure if she should go back to preparing her speech or to sit down, which Fleur was waiting for her to do. Hermione tensed slightly and did so while Harry, Ginny and Ron sat opposite them.
"So which test did you write last, Fleur?" Ginny asked conversationally while they all began eating.
"Charms," replied Fleur evenly. "It wasn't terribly difficult."
"I heard you're rather good at it."
"I suppose you could say that, yes."
"Is your Patronus still a sphinx?" Harry asked interestedly.
"I don't know," Fleur shrugged. "I haven't conjured one in a while."
"You should try when we get to the Burrow," Ron commented, "and maybe play some Quidditch at that."
"Maybe," Fleur said dismissively.
"Ah come on! At least we know you're good! Not like Hermione who never plays with us."
"She keeps claiming she's no good at flying," Harry laughed, "you should teach her, Fleur. We haven't had any luck."
"Perhaps," Fleur said just as dismissively.
"And you should teach her something else, too," Ginny said cryptically.
"Like what…?"
"Hmm… I don't know!"
"You don't know, hm?"
"Nope!"
"Interesting," Fleur said flatly, shrugging it off.
And yet Harry, Ron and Ginny noticed the crestfallen expression still on Hermione's face. That seemed to increase their drive tenfold for getting involved in things like the caring friends they all were. Fleur didn't seem to notice their eyes all on Hermione and was instead mumbling under her breath about the food.
Even Fleur's dismissive attitude about everything was endearing, thought Hermione. That was her number one sign that she had it bad.