A/N: After everything our cute couple endured in past chapters, this is a little reprieve. :)
By the way, this one is shorter than the last. Some of you enjoyed the monster chappy (and my friend had such a major ego boost from it that I'm wondering when I'll manage to live it down), but I'm aiming for short chapters for a while.
My huge 'thank you' to all that still follow this fic, one way or another. English hasn't been my main speaking/reading/thinking/writing language in a very, very, very, very, very long time, and it takes a lot to put each chapter together, especially long ones. Not surprisingly, one of my main motivations for writing this in the first place is to 'improve my Eenglish', to quote Fleur in all her canon flourish. There's plenty I have to work on, and your criticism helps me more than you can imagine, both positive and negative.
A special apology to those that have complained, with good reason, about my awful delay in updating. My Dad has recently undergone major surgery and these past weeks felt like we've been walking through a field of landmines, with a piece of bad news following right after the other. Radiotherapy is the next step in his near future and the family... well, let's say we're hanging in there with him the best we can. Please, be patient. This fic is far from over, but there are plenty of things going on at the same time.
COAYH has been a personal challenge in more ways than I'd ever thought it would be. At the moment, I'm grateful it's such a detour from everyday life.
Chapter 7.
Dawn finds you long awake and already halfway down to the castle. There wasn't a single good reason to remain in your room any further, so you're now walking alone, only leaving behind a small note to warn your companions of your absence.
Sleep evaded you for most of the night and you tried your best to relax, sketching away many of the unforgettable memories from your stay at Hogwarts. Especially some involving a certain lovely Gryffindor. Your lovely Gryffindor.
'My girl... Can I call her that now?'
Since yesterday, nothing could put a stop to the permanent smile that took control of your lips. You stand a bit taller, more confident, excitement bubbling up and spilling over from you, barely leaving room for anything else. There's even an extra spring in your step now. It's wonderful to be in such an amazing mood.
After all that's happened, you'll finally have some good news to send home involving Hermione and yourself. There's no guessing how your mother or father will react, but at least Gabrielle is sure to be thrilled when she learns about it.
You can almost picture your little sister's wide grin when she finds out you have a special someone now. Plus the ten thousand questions that she'll start shooting at you right away.
Chuckling out loud, you try to guess how much she'll torment poor Tonnerre into flying as fast as possible to deliver her demand for more information. That owl is never going to forget about your time at Hogwarts.
A frosty waft sobers you back to reality and you bury a trembling chin into the loose scarf around your neck. You notice the temperature is exceptionally low this morning. Absolutely freezing, to be exact. The chilly air rushes without mercy through your airways, each lungful punctuating the steady rhythm of your progress to the school. It's unexpected that the warming charms on your robes have been able to resist wave after wave of this degree of cold.
Unfortunately, the darkness barely had any chance to recede at sunrise and the sky is now already covered in thick gray clouds, probably setting the stage for one very stormy day. A faraway rumble of thunder bounces off the wall of mountains standing tall behind the castle. It makes you wonder if it'll be incoming rain, snow or both.
Brrrr... Either way, it's a guarantee of even more cold.
Shaking your head, you try not to think too much about the weather. You have quite the day ahead of you, with lots of classes, the visitors for Hagrid, a long letter to write home, and trying to make things play out smoothly with Hermione on a regular school day.
A smile stretches your lips widely again. Your thoughts haven't been able to stray from the brunette a single lasting moment before quickly making their way back. You wish that arriving this early can grant you the chance to meet her before the huge mass of curious students is already settled for breakfast.
A few minutes alone would be a nice way to start off the day. More than that, deep down you also seek reassurance. You need to look into those eyes and find the same resolve you saw yesterday. Memories of the constant push-and-pull dance you've both practiced for months still feel too close for comfort. Whatever obstacles might show up from now on, you're confident that you can face them together. You hope she thinks along the same lines.
Snowflakes begin to fall and melt on your face and clothes, cutting short any further musings. You rush a little across the entrance courtyard, scampering to reach the doors of the old building.
Once inside, you shake off the droplets scattered all over your cap and shoulders, using your wand to scourgify the puddle gathering at your feet and to dry up most of the moisture left on your robes and hair. Realizing that you really can't do a pristine job without a mirror, you huff impatiently at the extra diversion and try to recall the location of the nearest ladies' room.
That is, until you notice you're not by yourself at the Entrance Hall.
Weak and fast whispers coming from a corner distract you. Three students are crouched there, a slim blonde boy bossing around two much larger of his friends. All of them are grinning wickedly and brandishing their wands in a way that clearly shows they're getting ready to scare someone out of their wits.
You shrug, unimpressed, and turn to leave. Young boys having their kind of fun. Dismissing it as another silly student prank in the making, you are already striding away to the restroom, when parts of their hushed conversation reach your ears.
Particularly the mention of the words 'Mudblood', 'blood traitor' and 'pounce on them' in the same phrase makes your eyes narrow. Maybe this is designed to be more serious than a simple prank, after all. You stop in your tracks and lurk about, straining to listen more and have a better look, though still keeping a safe distance.
To your luck, they are watching the stairs closely and your presence goes unnoticed. As you had suspected, their uniforms belong to Slytherin. These must be some of the troublemakers giving Hermione a hard time.
Engrossed in your little espionage activity, you're completely taken by surprise when a light weight connects with the top of your head, followed by a popping sound, and then a freezing trickle that spreads down through your hair, neck and torso. You instantly shiver and, startled, lift your arms by your sides, looking down at yourself to figure out what just happened.
Before you can put two thoughts together, more freezing water bombs strike and you totter back unsteadily. Lost in a blank stupor, you only manage to look up, finding your assailant bobbing about, cackling softly and clearly pleased with himself.
He looks sweetly at you, appraising his handiwork with an evil smile. "Aren't you looking peachy today," and then he feigns a curtsey, "oh, Miss Championshipness?"
Once you realize he's taking aim again, you give the poltergeist a seething glare, whispering a warning "Peeves!" through clenched teeth. You're having an inner debate on whether to try to blast him to bits or not, then a little idea just snaps out of nowhere.
A quick look at the boys gives you the assurance that they are still focused on the stairs and oblivious to Peeves and you. Quietly, you change your position so that Peeves is now right between the trio and yourself.
When his arm starts to spring forward for a new discharge, you react as fast as you can, casting such an intense non-verbal Protego that the convex shield almost explodes from the tip of your wand, expanding into a huge mass that knocks some balloons out of his hands and sends the mad spirit crashing backwards onto a wall, right on top of the Slytherin huddle.
Regaining his balance, he finally takes notice of the unaware boys and smirks in self-satisfaction, forgetting about you and launching a full-blown attack that instantly drenches them from the head down in icy liquid. The boys try to defend themselves and even retaliate, but in less than a minute it becomes clear that they're no match for him.
The poltergeist is an expert and doing what he does best.
They soon give up on their previous plans and start to flee, with a wildly amused Peeves on their tail. When the spirit runs out of ammunition, you conjure extra projectiles and levitate them into his reach. He barely spares you a side glance and continues with his pursuit.
The blonde boy notices, though, stopping briefly to give you an angry 'how-dare-you' glare. Your determination doesn't waver under the boy's silent threat. You have as much reason to glare back at him and ask how dare he call Hermione a Mudblood.
With an upright poise, you cross your arms in front of you and keep your wand poking out in intentional display. A challenge for a challenge.
He is too young of a boy, but you'd stand up to any of the older Slytherins just the same, if need be. Whatever it takes to make them show proper respect for muggle-borns.
The blonde keeps his narrowed eyes locked on you, gripping his wand tightly. You tilt your head in amusement, raising an eyebrow at the youngster and uncrossing your arms. With a short twirl, you let your wand roll through your fingers and then freeze, watching him carefully and waiting for him to make the first move. Is he seriously considering attacking you?
Peeves is having none of it, however, breaking your staring contest by making the eager boy double over under a generous onslaught. The blonde gasps and shouts something you can't understand at Peeves, but seems a bit crude. His friends gather around him and they all turn to leave, running up the stairs. The poltergeist obviously takes it as an invitation to play and chases after the disheveled students.
You release the breath caught in your lungs and relax again, loosening the hold on your wand. When you decide you've been a spectator long enough, you whirl around and leave them all to have their fun. Perhaps this will teach those boys a bit about the inelegance of trying to hurt someone from behind.
Either that, or you probably just landed your name at the top of that Slytherin's black list. Oh, well, maybe it'll take his mind away from Hermione for a while.
You pocket your wand and steer your attention back at your surroundings. There are now students starting to file in for breakfast, some of them unable to avert their eyes from you. Looking down, you soon understand why.
The soaking robes clinging to your skin are anything but flattering, and even your shoes and bag were sprinkled in Peeve's hastiness. Madame Maxime would be shocked to see you like this in public.
You sigh. It's more than time for some damage control. Keeping a low profile, you find your way to the ladies' room, check your appearance and at once finish off spell-drying your hair and your clothing the best you can. The mess has been so thorough that it demands quite a lot of fixing and you forget about the passing time.
When the reflection on the mirror finally resembles what it should, you head back, mind heavy with impatience and weariness. The Great Hall is no longer packed and it's easy to realize that you're very late for the meal, since many students are already leaving with the undeniable afterglow of a satisfied stomach.
While walking to the Ravenclaws, you look up at the owls tending to the post and check there are still no deliveries for you. Ruffling your hair anxiously, you start to ask yourself what could be worse, the arrival of a harshly reprimanding letter or this extended silence.
You frown, not knowing what to make of this anymore. No matter how many times you turn things in your mind, the absence of news from home is quite the burden on your nerves. You love your mother to pieces, but she definitely knows how to drive you up a wall. Perhaps this will change for the better when you send out another letter to assure her that everything is working out well lately. That is, assuming she agrees with your concept of 'working out well'.
Reaching the usual sitting place, you don't waste time, soon choosing a chocolate muffin and a goblet of pumpkin juice. You are careful to keep an attentive eye on the time now, interrupting your meal shortly to wish the few students around you a good morning with a smile, but barely participating in the small talk going on.
With a bit of amusement, you look over your shoulder and notice the Slytherin boys didn't show up, yet. Peeve's pestering endurance is... impressive, it seems. Glancing forward, to your dismay the very last Gryffindor students are leaving their table right now. You completely missed out on the chance to greet Hermione.
Pouting, you stretch a glance all around and realize most of your friends have finished breakfast also and your own table is nearly vacated, a few students standing up and saying good-bye to you as you try to temporarily quench your appetite.
While you're busy, someone stands up a little to your right and comes close to you. Through the corner of your eye you check it's Luna, when she leans down to make a short whispered comment for your ears only. "Hi, Fleur. I'm sorry I can't stay longer to talk to you. I promised to meet a friend before class."
Although you've know each other for so little, you appreciate very much the young girl's attentive and sweet demeanor, "It is alright, Luna. Zank you for stopping by. I could not arrive sooner to chat today. We should catch up later, non?"
"Sure, let's do that. Didn't I tell you the Nargles would give my things back? I'm so happy that they did, already. During lunch we'll have lots to talk about." A loud voice calls her name from the doors and Luna is about to leave, but then she stops and leans close to you again, "Fleur, you're glowing today, even the Wrackspurts are staying away. Something new happened, huh? Now I can pick it up really well. It's all over you. So clever."
A raised eyebrow is your reply, at the same moment you're emptying the last of your goblet. She nods and gives you one of those wondrous dreamy smiles of hers, "It's almonds and pine, isn't it?"
The girl leaves in a hurry and you're left alone to deal with your instant choking fit on pumpkin juice, almost knocking down your goblet in the embarrassing outburst and trying to cover your mouth with a handkerchief. Where does Luna come up with stuff like that?
Someone starts to slap your back a few times until you raise a hand, making sure they understand your windpipe is not blocked anymore. The slapping stops and is replaced by a gentle rub up and down your back instead. It takes you a good number of seconds to recover your breath and completely stop coughing.
Drying up your teary eyes and steadying yourself, you turn to thank whoever helped you, recognizing Hermione as the one standing right behind you, smiling shyly and squeezing your shoulder a last time before she pulls her hand away, "Good morning, Fleur. Feeling better now?"
You only manage to nod, trying to get over the surprise of her presence. Noticing her voice had some hints of strain, you twist sideways on the bench to better look at the brunette.
Yes, she's nervous, alright. The girl is chewing her bottom lip, standing stiff as a broom and keeping her stare close by, avoiding other people's eyes. Perhaps it was too much to hope that she wouldn't feel so self-conscious when facing the other students by your side.
By the way it looks, the best student at Hogwarts still needs to work things out in the emotional department. At least until her confidence goes back to regular levels. It will all come down to patience and time. For both of you.
And it's okay. You see she's clearly trying, although this is not easy on her. She waited on you today, didn't she? And was ready to help you when you needed it, too.
Blinking, you interrupt your current thoughts. That was too long spent inside your head. Time to let her see that you can do this. Together.
You smile brightly at her to make her at ease and her features loosen up a bit, stretching into a small smile.
Realizing you owe her a proper answer, you try to speak, but no sound escapes you. The scratchy soreness of your throat is quite unpleasant and you sip a bit more of juice to ease it down. Careful not to make it even worse, you answer in broken sentences, testing the waters, "Bonjour, 'Ermione. Much better. Merci."
She gives you a concerned look and reaches into her rucksack, "Took you forever to show up today. I saved you an apple, in case you didn't make it to breakfast." She hands you the ripe fruit, carefully wrapped in a napkin, and adds after lifting a curious eyebrow, "Did you oversleep?"
You shake your head and wrinkle your nose in jest, "Non, nothing like zat. I arrived early, but Peeves was in ze mood to give me a little workout." You lean closer and lower your voice to a whisper, as if carefully sharing a secret, "I zink zat poltergeist 'as a soft spot for me."
The brunette rolls her eyes, laughing at the obvious tease, "I see... So now I have competition. Should I worry?"
Playing along, you give her a wink and enjoy the easy exchange, "Oh, I do not zink Peeves should make you concerned."
You finish the last of your muffin and continue in a more serious tone, "Zank you for waiting on me. I know I was very late today."
"It's alright, Fleur. I'm glad you didn't miss another meal." Her voice sounds firmer, more natural and relaxed. After a look around the nearly empty Hall, she takes a step behind, leaving room for you to get up, "We're really running short on time. Classes should start in fifteen minutes. I've got Transfiguration now, what about you?"
"Charms. I am ready to go." Collecting your cap, you stand and place her apple into your bag, "Ze apple will be great later, 'Ermione. My breakfast was very rushed today. It was very zoughtful of you."
It's amusing to see her bashful reaction at such a simple compliment. The brunette's stare shifts down, letting her unruly strands hide her face while you're walking side by side. When her face lifts again to reply, there's that soft blush across her cheeks, "Er... Don't mention it, please. It's nice to look after you."
The sincerity in her tone and words work like a balm for you, and any last traces of anxiety flee from your system. You can tell she's getting there as well, at least for now.
Upon reaching the Entrance Hall, she bites her lower lip and gives you a coy glance, pointing at the heavy oak doors, "Er... Would you mind stepping outside for a bit?"
You catch an extra sparkle in her eyes and smile instantly, "On ze contrary, I would not mind at all. Courtyards 'ave been very interesting lately, non?"
Chuckling, you head out together and stop just outside the doors for a few moments, appreciating the view of a fresh spread of snow covering the courtyard now. As soon as you're all by yourselves, she envelopes your left arm in a firm grasp and her body moves closer, shaking slightly under the sudden cold. You try to release your arm to wrap it around her, but she slides her hand down until one cold palm touches the other and eager fingers mingle, falling into place.
Spinning to look at her, you use your free hand to wrap her scarf in a more protective way around her neck. Smiling and with the cutest blush, she starts to tug you sideways to the sheltered cloister, careful to clear a path free of snow for both of you to tread.
Her efforts are interrupted by a firm but soft voice that comes from the doors behind, making you halt at once. "Excuse me, Miss Delacour. May I have a word with you?"
Hermione's hand breaks apart from yours and the brunette back steps, stopping close by.
You turn to acknowledge the newly arrived short witch, noticing her polite smile, the earthy color of her sturdy robes and that curious amount of loose dirt clinging all over the attire, "Oui? Professor... Sprout?"
The Herbology teacher realizes you're not alone and addresses the brunette as well, "Oh, hello, Miss Granger. Good morning to the two of you."
The Gryffindor smiles back, shyly, "Good morning, Professor."
With a stern look, Professor Sprout directs her attention to you, "I was wondering if I could speak to you, Miss Delacour. Perhaps you can provide us with a little help or guidance."
You instantly nod, ready to listen, while Hermione shifts from a foot to the other, "Is this private? Should I leave, Professor?"
The older witch's gaze softens at the sight of her unsure student, despite the tired creases on her face and her rather slouched posture. "Well, no, of course not, Miss Granger. I gather you two must be good friends. This shouldn't be a big deal. I'm grasping at straws here, but anything at all, even a small idea, can be of use."
You begin to wonder what a Herbology teacher could request from you and promptly offer, "'Ow can I be of 'elp, Professor?"
She crosses her hands in front of her and starts in her teacher-giving-lecture tone, "There's a magical and valuable tree on the grounds, Miss Delacour, a rare Whomping Willow. Have you seen it?"
"Oui, Professor. It is quite 'ard to miss. Ze students are a little scared of its... 'ow should I say... enthusiasm," you give her a small smile and pointedly raise an eyebrow at that last word to underline the on-going opinion about the frightful tree.
She chuckles wholeheartedly, "Yes, I can see that happening a lot. We're lucky not to have had any significant incidents with the students. Except, of course, for the time when two of them crash-landed a flying muggle car straight into the willow. As expected, the tree reacted in kind. It was a stroke of luck that no one was badly injured that day."
With a nod and a teasing smile, she turns to Hermione, "I believe those were your friends, Miss Granger, correct?"
Stunned, you look at the brunette, not believing something so farfetched can actually be true. The girl shrugs in response, trying to conceal a smile, "They still remember the Howler from Ron's Mum, Professor." Taking in your startled look, she gives you a huge grin and whispers, "I'll tell you later, Fleur."
"For a little over a week now, the willow's been behaving in a most unusual way. I'm afraid there are no words to explain well its symptoms. You'll have to see for yourself." The teacher's stare drifts from you to Hermione and you catch a little reluctance before she continues, as if handling a touchy subject, "I couldn't help but notice you underwent a few subtle changes of late. As a Veela, that is."
Neither of you react unusually to that, so you glance at Hermione before looking back at the anxious teacher, "'Ermione knows, Professor. It is alright to talk about it."
Smiling in relief, the older witch continues, "Oh, good, good. We've tried to find out what is going on with the poor tree. I'm neck-deep in books, sending owls to ask for the opinion of experts all over Europe. Many already sent back their best guesses and not one has shed light on the matter. We remain clueless. Your change made me wonder if you might have the ability to understand the language of magical trees."
You frown, considering her words before replying, "I do not know, to tell you ze truth, Professor. My grandmuzzer is pure-Veela and she 'as ze ability, but my muzzer is 'alf-Veela and she is not very skilled wiz trees. My own change is too recent. Perhaps I do not even 'ave it… Also, I zink zere is anuzzer problem zat should be considered. Whomping Willows are a bit bizarre in zeir nature. Zere is a large difference between ze magic of ancient trees and zat of ze willows. As far as I remember from ze tales of Veela, willows do not use language, only movement for communication."
"Oh, dear. If that is correct, we may have hit another dead end… Would you do us a favor and try?" The worried glint in her eyes is so striking that you don't even consider saying no.
"Oui, Professor. I would like to assist you wiz ze tree."
"Thank you, Miss Delacour. I appreciate your willingness." Wearily, she nods a few times and her attention shifts to the heavy clouds above, "Let's step back into the castle, now, shall we? I'd say it's about to snow again."
When you return to the Entrance Hall, the professor clearly shows apprehension about the hour, "We should attend our classes of the day. I wouldn't want this particular activity to interfere with your studies. Can we meet close to the Whomping Willow a little before lunchtime this Saturday? That should give us enough time to check the tree and be back for a nice, warm meal. I'm keeping my hopes up that the weather will improve by then."
You have nothing else planned for your Saturday morning and this seems to be an amusing side project, so your answer is as sincere as it could be, "I zink zat should be fine, Professor. I will be zere."
Still a bit timidly, Hermione risks a few words into the conversation, "Professor, am I allowed to go and watch?"
"Yes, certainly, Miss Granger. There's a student that has dedicated many hours to care for that tree. It will be the four of us, then." With a more cheerful demeanor, she waves her hand at you and goes for the stairs, "Now I must find my greenhouses. Miss Granger and Miss Delacour, we shall talk more soon. Take care."
Hermione's voice mixes with yours to bid good-bye to the retreating witch, and shortly all that's left of her is the patched tip of a hat turning a corner on the first floor.
After the sound of the teacher's footsteps is gone, the brunette whirls on you, clearly excited, "You're already talking to trees?"
"What? Oh, non. I mean, I do not know. I 'ave not been around magical trees since ze change. And we do not talk to trees. Some say it is more a matter of a different perception, or perhaps intuition..." your voice trails off and your face goes blank, "Wait. You do not seem surprised at all wiz zis."
She rolls her eyes, smiling, "You gave me that book, remember?"
"Oui, but zat was... yesterday. Zere was not enough time for you to-" You stop short, realization slowly dawning on you. Shooting her a small smirk, you add in a teasing tone, "You 'ad trouble to sleep, non?"
Hermione bites her lip and turns a solid pink, avoiding your stare, "Can you honestly blame me after the day we had? Besides, that book kept me entertained a lot."
Smiling, one of your hands glides over a warm and now reddish cheek, reaching down to lift her face and allow your eyes to meet. You relish that vivid fire burning deep in her russet gaze, and some odd part of your brain notes the brown color appears to be lighter during the day, tiny golden spots enhancing their natural allure. Your fingers remain forgotten under her chin, moving back and forth over the satin feel of her skin.
Time seems to slow down. Or perhaps it just lost all meaning. Not that you care either way.
Slipping her renegade strands away to bring out even the most hidden corners of her face, you answer in a voice barely louder than a whisper, "Non, I cannot blame you. I am smiling because I almost did not sleep, either. Zere was zis beautiful brunette zat crept into my mind and kept stealing away any chance of sleep."
You realize she really mustn't be used to receiving praise. When this regards her looks, perhaps it's even harder for her, since she just flushed a deep tint of purple that would make even Ronald proud. Her eyes finally leave yours altogether and she takes a tentative look around, probably to check you're alone.
And this is it... You can feel her tensing up again, an invisible wall of fear separating you now, inner struggles weighing her shoulders down. The lines in her features are somewhat strained and taut, her eyes shifting in a nervous way. Holding your breath in anticipation, you watch as she considers what to do.
Being seen with you at the Entrance Hall must feel like quite a risk for someone as collected as her. With gossip spreading like Fiendfyre in the student ranks (and possibly out to the rest of the world, thanks to the Triwizard Tournament and Rita Skeeter), a relationship like this demands a whole new level of courage from the Gryffindor. And since this time around there are true feelings involved, dealing with it is probably that much more real, serious and hard for her than when the sham with Mr. Krum turned heads at the Yule Ball.
You reach out and grasp her right hand, squeezing it tightly so she can sense your presence. And your unwavering support. It's not your place to push her, but you want to make it clear that you're by her side no matter what.
After a few moments, her internal debate comes to an end. Heaving a long sigh, she licks her dried lips and slowly looks at you again. The brunette steps in to stand right before you, adjusting your joined hands sideways and braiding your fingers together. Her free hand finds your cheek and rubs it gently, leaving a cold trail in its wake.
You don't wait any longer, whirling your face to graze her open palm with your lips before smacking it loudly only once, "Your 'and is freezing, ma belle." Turning back to face her, you add with a light tone, "Do you zink I can perhaps warm you up?" Offering slightly open arms in her direction, you let the hinted invitation hang in the air.
It takes her no more than a second to really relax. She gives you the sweetest of smiles, nearly leaping forward to lace her arms around your waist. Any space left between you vanishes at once, the hug replacing any signs of cold with a comfortable warmth that spreads straight through each other's skins. Her eagerness makes you chuckle, dissipating the somber mood from minutes before.
Closing your eyes, you touch your forehead to hers and savor that scent that is so undeniably Hermione, "I wish zis did not worry you so much. You are not doing anything alone, 'Ermione. I am 'ere wiz you. For you. Do you understand zat?"
She nods and answers in a small voice, "Yes, Fleur. But this is too new. I can't help myself, yet... It will get easier, though, right?"
"Mm-hmm... Zat is what I believe." Actually, that is what you wish to see happening.
She nuzzles the tip of your nose and tilts her head to a side. In the swift move, her mouth brushes against yours, stealing a sigh from your lips.
There's no need for more. You both recall how to take it from here, meeting midway into a soft and lingering kiss that sends all doubts and anxiety to the very back of your minds. This feels perfect, just like it had yesterday. A good reminder of just how well you fit together. And, as if you're both sharing the same thought, one puts as much ardor into the caress as the other.
You stretch every minute to its fullest, although there's the pressure of the hour, for neither is willing to stop just yet. When you finally break apart, you're sure it ended faster than you wish it would. Eyes flutter open, stares match again, and she is smiling at you in silence. Words have no place in this moment.
Her head comes to rest on your shoulder and you run your fingers over her wild strands, taking a final instant to simply enjoy each other's presence.
At last, the brunette breathes out the words that you can't. "We should go."
She slackens her grip and sighs, adding in an expectant tone, "What are you doing after the morning break, Fleur? Do you have more classes?"
You shake your head, "Non, I only 'ave Charms in ze morning. Zen I 'ad planned to go to ze library. I 'ave to write a letter to send 'ome."
After giving you a quick peck, she straightens her rucksack, "Great. I'm free after the break too. I'll find you there."
The sound of alien steps coming down the stairs and someone clearing their throat freezes you on the spot. Hermione stiffens at once, slipping apart. Before she can panic away, you hold her hands and keep her close, knowing the brunette is concealed by your frame. You try to reassure her with a small smile, but an imposing voice you had not expected rises in the Hall.
"All ze students should be in class now. Eet is not allowed to stay in ze corridors after ze ring of ze bell." The voice makes a pause and a loud sneeze echoes several times in the small chamber.
'Oh, Merlin. Not like this. Not now!'
Holding in a major groan, you pointedly wave your head in the direction of the corridor leading to the Transfiguration quarters and give the brunette a suggestive look, mouthing 'I will take care of this'.
The brunette nods in understanding. Slowly, you turn to face your Headmistress jovially, "Oui, Madame Maxime?"
Her eyes widen and another sneeze resonates loudly, "Eet is you, Fleur?"
You wag your hand for Hermione to leave and she doesn't waste time, scurrying away. Searching your bag, you fetch a small box of paper tissues, which the large witch promptly accepts. With a sideways look at the corridor, you notice Hermione stopped right after she was out of sight to check on you. She winks and you try to keep a blank face in front of your Headmistress.
After Madame Maxime has used enough tissues to temporarily stop her sniffing, you address her again, "Oui, Madame. Professor Sprout needed to talk after breakfast and I was running a little late."
"You were not running at all, Fleur," she says in a suggestive way, though without malice. "Who was wiz you?"
"I was only saying good-bye to my gir- hmm... g-good friend," you stutter, almost letting slip something you most certainly don't want to share. Something you're not even sure you should or can say yet, anyway. "My very good friend, Professor."
She gives you a suspicious stare and repeats slowly, "Your good friend, hmmm?"
You nod and remain silent. Enough said. Good moment to keep mouth shut.
The Headmistress sneezes again and you steal a look at the corridor. Hermione has her arms crossed and she is leaning on her shoulder, against the wall of stone. However, it's her face that makes you wince. She is carefully watching you with a raised eyebrow and tightly pursed lips.
"Very well, you should go or you will be even later for class. We will talk at ze carriage," the thundering voice of your professor states matter-of-factly and she hurries you off to the stairs.
"Oui, Madame," you reply in a weak voice. When she tries to return the box of tissues, although her nose is tomato-red and her eyes are all puffy, you shake your head at once, "Oh, no. Please, Professor, keep zem. I 'ave more in my room. Should I call on Madam Pomfrey to 'elp you?"
"She 'as asked zat a potion is brewed for me. Eet will be ready soon," she shares in a softer voice. "Go on to class, Fleur. I shall be at ze carriage to rest until ze potion is complete."
With a small smile, you finally turn to leave, only to feel your happy face dissolve as soon as your back turns. Of all the possible whens for this to happen, two professors had to interrupt Hermione and you particularly today, with Hermione's anxiety just dying to show its colors. And your Headmistress was one to catch you red-handed.
You're already treading on thin ice with her as it is. You recall she wasn't thrilled at all to learn you returned late to the carriage one night and escorted by no other than Professor Snape.
Rushing to your expected classroom, you're pretty sure you've just climbed the three flights of stairs in record time. Ironically, no matter your history as an upstanding student, you're not exactly in the mood to answer 'the call of duty' right now.
With a worried mind reeling over the turn of events, you startle Professor Flitwick when you interrupt his explanation, opening the door to arrive late for the first time ever. Properly embarrassed, you make a short apology and quickly go to your seat.
Curious eyes from all around track your every move and you wish you could simply disappear or blend into the background. It makes you grateful that the professor simply continues his class when you sit down and not even your friends bug you about it for long, as they were sure to notice you were late since breakfast, anyway.
Silently, you start taking notes on his full revision of Fidelius and Muggle-Repelling Charms. He makes it clear that this is the last revision before the next exam and the statement is followed by a symphony of low groans and whines coming from the farthest corners of the classroom. You could swear the short professor just barely hid a smile.
Once the theory is covered and a few questions have been answered, the professor slowly enunciates the incantations and performs the correctly timed wand movements a few times for the class to observe, and then asks all to stand and practice as he walks around, watching and adding any necessary adjustments.
When he stops by your side to check your performance, you do your best not to disappoint, stirring your wand in fluid motions that you've long committed to memory after hours of drilled efforts.
You're interrupted by the ring of the bell and everyone else start to leave, while the tiny professor is giving you more pointers, carefully demonstrating extra techniques to enhance a semi-circular spin to go with the last incantation you were practicing.
After the other students are out the door, in a worried voice the professor awkwardly asks you if everything is alright. You quickly let him know that you were delayed by a request made by Professor Sprout after breakfast and he is very understanding about it, even repeating the small part of the revision you missed in case you had any doubts left.
Collecting your things, you thank him and bow your head before leaving. You make a mental note to study hard enough to ace the next Charms test as you walk out the door. And then you freeze, stunned where you stand.
The transition from the quiet classroom to this roaring sea of students taking over the corridors is almost beyond belief. There's shouting and running just about everywhere. You see lots of personal things and books being tossed around, with the annoyed owners trying to recover them, magically or not quite so. Thankfully, some of your friends are close by, talking loudly, and they invite you to return to the carriage and join their study group, showing concern about the incoming exams.
As you listen to them, you fish out the apple from your bag and enjoy each refreshing bite of your quick snack. You accompany them in the direction of the staircase, explaining that your study schedule is a bit tighter because of the demands of the Tournament. After all, you're still trying to figure out the contents of that maddening egg.
Unyielding under their insistence, you tell them of your need to go to the library now, and then promise to discuss a schedule over lunch to study with them during the weekend. They don't look too pleased, but finally concede and leave, rambling on about the unfairness of studying for regular exams and still preparing for NEWTs in the same term.
Smiling at the silly arguments that you can still overhear, you vanish the leftovers of the fruit and stride into the nearly empty library, quickly setting course for the far corner of Hermione's favorite desk, eyes roaming about.
The vigilant librarian is occupied, tending to books left on empty tables, but her piercing eyes don't miss your arrival. A few students are scattered, mostly in small groups, and whispering. You notice a couple of them are blinking excessively, probably trying to stay awake, and you're sure you even caught sight of a lone Hufflepuff in deep sleep, drooling and all.
Hermione didn't arrive, yet, so you fetch the letter you wrote to Gabrielle a few days ago (and never sent) and the sketchbook from your bag. Searching through the latest drawings, you choose four that look interesting and detach those pages, setting them face-down.
After preparing quill and many scrolls of parchment, you reread the letter and get started. It's amusing that there are more news to add little more than a day after you wrote so much. You try to tone down a bit of your enthusiasm about it, knowing full well that Gabrielle will be ready to throw a party the minute she gets this.
To make it all the more unexpected, you jot down large paragraphs about school, the restart of term, exams, books, grades, the weather, your friends, how you're getting nowhere with the Tournament, and a description of the sketches. Then, as the sneaky surprise, you finish with a whole section on Hermione, letting your mind wander free as you put in a few hints of the two of you getting along quite well and not exactly as only friends. Gabrielle is young, but she'll know how to read between these lines.
Fully satisfied with the long extension, you're writing your signature at the end, when a quick grip on your shoulder has you bolting up in surprise. An amused voice breathes on your ear, "Hey, you... Looks like I really can catch you off-guard."
Her low chuckle sets you at ease and you only shake your head a few times, smiling, "You are late, ma belle." Putting down your quill, you continue, "Ze time is not agreeing wiz us today, non?"
Hermione leans down for a quick kiss on your cheek before she reaches for one of your hands and places a soft bundle on its palm. You frown at that, take a better look and notice it's one of her scarves, neatly folded and showing the coat of arms of Gryffindor House.
"I guess I do owe you an explanation." She sits on the chair by your side and smiles rather shyly, "That Veela book made me think of you so much. It felt great to have it with me all night, Fleur. The leather cover even had your sweet smell. And this morning it hit me that you didn't have anything of mine, so I just had to go back to my room and pick up that scarf. It's the same one I used yesterday, when we talked. I'd like you to have it. To... hmm... you know, remember me."
Her last words are spoken slowly and she starts to blush despite herself. You look at the scarf briefly and then your stare finds the brunette again. This is so meaningful to you that you're at a loss on how to respond. At least you've managed to keep your jaw in place. Though you can't bring your eyebrows back down.
Your lasting silence makes her more and more uneasy, and she doesn't stop looking at you to check your reaction, "Huh, if you want it, that is. And I'm really sorry for keeping you waiting this long."
Snapping out of it, you finally beam at her, unfolding the scarf on your lap and quickly sensing the distinct traces of her scent on it, "Merci, 'Ermione. Zis is… absolutely fantastic. Smells 'ave quite ze effect on me, too. Are you sure you will not need it?"
Her distress begins to recede as she watches you handle the fluffy gift with care. While opening her rucksack to get some of her things, she dispels your worries, "No, it's alright. I have more of them to last me all winter. Since my Mum is always so prudent, probably to last me all winters until I graduate."
You grin, shaking your head at the remark.
Wasting no time, she eagerly brings your previous adventure to light, "Did everything go well with Madame Maxime?"
Carefully, you tidy the scarf and reply casually, "Oui, better zan I expected. She is coming down wiz something, sneezing like zat. I do not zink she even 'ad ze strength to be mad about students missing classes."
The brunette frowns seriously, "Fleur, I don't want to see you in trouble. You can tell her I was there with you. Even Professor Sprout can explain why we were late, right?"
You shrug and nod, placing the scarf inside your bag.
Letting the touchy subject go, she continues in a conversational tone, "What of your letter? Did you finish it already? Is everything alright at home?"
"Oui, it is finished now. I am sending ze latest news to my sister. It is strange zat zere 'ave been no letters from 'ome in a week. Maybe ze 'orrible weather is delaying ze owls," you reply, considering this possibility for a while.
She raises an eyebrow at your remark and piles up her books on the desk.
You notice how spread out your things are, taking up most of the desk when she's about ready to study. Quickly, you set as much as you can smartly in order to make more room for the brunette, "Hmm… Did you 'ave a good class?"
Hermione nods slowly, preparing a quill and rolls of parchment, "Mm-hmmm, very interesting. Professor McGonagall's classes are some of my favorites. We're doing Cross-Species Switches now. What about you?"
"Professor Flitwick made a last revision before 'is next Charms exam." At last, the letter and sketches are now rolled up together and set aside, near your sketchbook, and the table looks well organized. "Defense Against ze Dark Arts and Charms 'ave been planned out together since December. Zey 'ave taught us many kinds of defensive spells to secure and conceal locations, from large buildings to small 'ideouts. Zat is an interesting line of spells, particularly wards."
She stills her hands on the pile of books in front of her, "This is my latest Potions essay, but it shouldn't take too long. Is it okay if I do it now?"
"Oui, of course. You should not even ask zat, 'Ermione. We can talk later. Zere is some reading I 'ave to do as well," you counter chuckling, enjoying up close the sight of Hermione scribbling away by your side. She's acting like it's the most natural thing in the whole world, already researching from three different textbooks and lost in her thoughts.
Smiling to yourself, you leave briefly to check the shelves for a good tome on protective wards and return with what seems to be a couple of gems on the subject. In little time, you find in-depth chapters on unusual ways to trick wards into ignoring a trespasser and start taking notes on incantations that might fuel further discussions with Professors Moody and Flitwick. Intrigued, you also write down particular exceptions that seem to contradict what was taught in class. This will provide some amusing moments in the near future.
After what feels like a very long period of silence and not removing your eyes from your current activity, you stretch your arm in her direction and give her hand a light squeeze, "'Ow are you doing zere?"
She moves her hand over yours and rubs your knuckles with her thumb while turning a few pages from one of the books. When she finds what she was looking for, she distractedly answers in a whisper, also keeping her attention set on her work, "Just a bit left... Almost finished."
Frowning, you realize she's still writing furiously and about to finish her second (!) roll of parchment, "Do you need 'elp?"
Surprised eyes glance up and lock on yours. With a pointed look at her parchment, you explain, "You seem to be in such a 'urry. When is zat due?"
And then she smiles in understanding, shaking her head, "Oh, in three weeks. I like to stay ahead."
You relax at once when you realize your mistake, "Je suis désolée. For a moment, I forgot zis is you. Most of my friends leave zings to do at ze last minute."
"Tell me about it," she says, rolling her eyes in an exaggerated way, barely concealing a smile. "Harry and Ron drive me crazy all the time. At least we won't have exams anytime soon. They get cranky when there's too much to study."
You nod, recognizing very well the same pattern in your own friends. Satisfied with the little research, you pile the books away and put your fresh notes inside your bag. There's still plenty of time left before lunch, so you pull your sketchbook instead and search for a few pencils, trying out the first traces of a new sketch.
Taking advantage of the fact that you're in the library, you look around and recall one busy evening, months ago, when there were no free spots to be seen and an eager brunette asked to sit with you... A firm hand drags the coarse tip of the pencil to mark down the delicate page, your mind focused on the memory and eyes shifting constantly from your surroundings to the shaping drawing.
The scraping sound from your pencil mixes with the harsh scratches of the quill at your side, both so familiar and relaxing to you. With your slow improvement over the days, it doesn't take long to recognize the image as it gains form. Once the basic scenery is laid out, you start to add in details and the familiar faces that had been a part of that particular moment.
"That's it, finally over..." Your eyes drift to the brunette speaking in a satisfied tone, now closing her books and setting parchment, ink and quill carefully in her rucksack. When she's finished tending to her things, she rolls and stretches her neck until it cracks.
Hermione then turns her attention to you and she tilts her head, curiously, leaning closer to check your drawing, "I thought you were doing homework. What is that?"
You lift the corner of the sketchbook in her direction, providing her a better view, "It is a personal interest, my 'obby. My muzzer says I started to draw when I was very young. Zis sketchbook 'as been wiz me since I first went to school."
She stands up behind you, her face hovering above your shoulder, "That's looking pretty good, Fleur. Will you show me after you're through with it?"
"Oui, it should not take long to ready ze 'ardest part for now. I can finish ze finer details from memory later, and zen I shall show you ze complete sketch," you reply while resuming your drawing, putting extra care to replicate the complex design of a particularly elaborate bookshelf.
She straightens up, small hands tracing your shoulders back and forth. At first it's done absentmindedly, but then there's new purpose in her moves and she sinks probing fingertips to check your muscles. A soft squeeze follows and she starts to rub them carefully, from neck to upper back, "There's so much tension here, Fleur. Even through your robes it's easy to notice. You need to relax more."
Her strokes send shivers running down your spine, "Zat... feels great. My shoulders 'ave been stiff for a while."
She keeps a conversational tone and kneads even more slowly, "When I'm home, my Mum asks for a neck rub almost every single day. She works in a position that strains her back for hours. Your muscles seem just as tight." After a small pause to rearrange your hair away from the areas tended by her hands, she continues, "Er... Is it alright if I keep on talking or does it distract you from sketching?"
"You should know zat what you are doing is a lot more distracting zan talking, ma belle," you answer in a half-hearted complaint.
Not that you had any doubts, but that quiet laugh laden with mischief is proof that she's fully aware of exactly how much she's affecting you, "Don't think too much about it. You shouldn't even be this sensitive when I'm working over your clothes, Fleur. I'll try to keep the pressure soft so your muscles don't hurt. Tell me if it feels uncomfortable, alright?"
You nod briefly and she takes the lead again, "We should get your mind busy about something else." An involuntary twitch evolves to a painful spasm, and she stays on the spot longer, rubbing in small circles to loosen what you can guess has become a particularly tight knot, "Let's see... Is Hogwarts really that different from Beauxbatons? I overheard you saying a few things to Roger Davies at the Ball and you didn't seem too happy about what you saw here."
Feeling glad about the chance at distracting your mind, you rip your thoughts away from the efficient strokes and manage to put an answer swiftly past your lips, "Non, zey are not very different. I was provoking Mr. Davies to see if 'e was under ze effects of my charms. You could say zat I was provoking you a little, too, since you were not talking to me at ze Ball and I knew you were listening in on us."
"Is that so?" She chuckles, squeezing both shoulders in sync, "Truth is, it worked. I got all riled up then, but I didn't feel like saying anything. Er… So I guess this means you don't really have a problem with Hogwarts. That's nice to know. How'd you compare them?"
You try to relax your back to avoid resisting the on-going kneading, "'Ogwarts and Beauxbatons are very different only in architecture. Both schools are remarkable in zeir unique ways, wiz nice facilities and vast open grounds. Uzzerwise, from what I asked, ze educational programs are similar. Ze two schools 'ave a careful selection of professors and zeir libraries 'ave good resources. Also, students benefit from easy access to plants and magical creatures in both, zough 'ere we are exposed to more... dangerous species. 'Agrid seems to 'ave a taste for zat."
"That's him, alright," she says in a good mood. "Harry, Ron and I learned the hard way that small, cute creatures aren't his thing. Hagrid has a preference for fangs, claws and multiple limbs. His favorite creatures are dragons. That pretty much sums it all."
She ends the massage with a last squeeze, pecks your temple lightly and sits down again. Folding her arms on the desk, she slides closer, not missing the progress of your sketch. "What about you? How are you doing in school?"
Rolling your shoulders testily, you all but purr, making your contentment obvious at the wonderful sensation, "I zink I am doing well. Ze Tournament complicates zings a little bit, zough now I am better organized zan last year. During ze 'olidays I worked on all my 'omework and I am ahead, too. Madame Maxime said my grades were good in ze exams before Chreestmas. We shall see at ze next round of exams, wiz Transfiguration, Charms and Potions coming up in a week."
Upon hearing the news, her spine immediately perks into a rigid vertical position, creaking loudly. The unusual sound makes you look up from your sketchbook and you catch her furrowing brow.
"All three in a week?" Biting her lip, she tries to bring her unusually high-pitched voice back to normal, "So you have a busy weekend ahead. Are you going to stay in your room all the time?" Still frowning, she gives you a wishful look, "Maybe you can study at the library?"
You notice her concern and rest your chin on your hand, enjoying the chance to commit her cute expression to memory, before answering softly, "I do not know yet, 'Ermione. Zat depends on your plans, too."
She seems confused and your hand reaches out to graze her cheek, "I am almost prepared for ze exams. All I need is a short review and some time to 'elp ze study group from Beauxbatons. Uzzer zan zat, I zought we could do something by ourselves when you are free."
Leaning into the caress, a bright grin springs on her face, brown eyes sparkling in a surge of joy, "You mean, just us?"
You smile back and nod several times in assurance.
She immediately adds, "That sounds great. I'd love to spend time with you."
"Oui, zat is something we need to do. It will be nice to forget about school and ze Tournament for a while. We can talk about anything we want now," you remark sincerely.
Her eyes turn a bit serious, "The more I think about it, Fleur, the more I ask myself if this is really happening. Everything seems unreal. I'm not used to feeling like this about anyone. It's just so overwhelming. In a good way, I mean. And when I remember all the time we lost..."
You keep your voice in the low tone she seems to like, "Ma belle, I am not used to any of zis, either. What 'appened to us was not lost time. At least zat was what my tired brain tried to tell me last night. We are a stubborn pair and it took us all zat to get 'ere. Now zat we are finally together, what I want is to make ze most of zis wiz you."
"I agree. I'd really like to know more about you," she cuts in. "The sooner, the better."
You smile, chiming in a statement that feels like a promise, "Starting zis weekend, non?"
In the distance, you hear the sound of the bell, muffled through the large bookshelves, announcing that morning classes are over and lunch should follow in a short while. You are actually annoyed at how quickly the last part of the morning has zoomed away.
Sighing, you close the sketchbook, leave the pencils by your bag and stand up, "In a little bit we 'ave to go to lunch, ma belle. We should get ready."
She also stands and carefully takes hold of your wrist to keep you from moving. Whirling your head in surprise, one of her captivating smiles is all it takes for you to pull her into a secure embrace. You understand. In a few moments you'll be going back to corridors packed with students. This is her way of saying that she does want to be with you, even though she's not ready to deal with doing that in public, yet.
You hear familiar voices in the distance and look past Hermione, noticing Ronald and Harry entering the library, searching around.
"Zere are your friends, 'Ermione," you tell her casually, after kissing her forehead.
The brunette turns her head and sees them too, taking a few steps away from you to pick up her rucksack, "I'd forgotten, Fleur. Ron and Harry were to meet me here so we could go to lunch."
She doesn't make any attempt to call them over or invite you to tag along. Your eyes shift from the still unaware boys to the brunette and she only bites her lip in silence. Sensing her discomfort rise, you act at once to try to ease it down. You've spent a nice morning together and a better opportunity to talk will present itself.
Patience and time. You repeat that over and over in your mind.
"You should go, zen, 'Ermione. Zey are looking for you. In a little while I will be at ze Great 'All, too." Waving your head in the boys' direction and offering her a smile, you start to put your belongings in your bag, "What are you doing in ze afternoon?"
Her head hangs low for a few moments, and then she takes a deep breath, "I have classes until dinner. And you?"
All too aware of what lies ahead until later in the night, you reply dryly, "Ze same. I should make arrangements for ze Beauxbatons study group over lunch. Can I see you after dinner to talk about ze weekend or is it better if we meet tomorrow?"
"Tonight after dinner will be fine. I still have to talk to my friends and check if they are planning anything else." She slowly reaches for your hand, squeezing it lightly a last time before leaving, "Catch you later?"
"Oui. Till zen, ma belle. 'Ave fun," you reply lightly, making sure to hold her gaze and keep a neutral expression.
She nods and spins on her heels to leave. Watching her slowly retreating form, you notice the boys are looking the other way. Apparently, the brunette noticed too, for she's tiptoeing to take them by surprise. You chuckle, curious to see if she'll be able to pull it off.
When she's right about to pass the last couple of shelves to reach her friends, a loud clatter is heard. A very young student just tripped and dropped his rucksack. In less than a blink, all sorts of trinkets have spilt from its insides and are either scattered and broken or rolling around at will. Madam Pince immediately stands up, wand at the ready, to help him collect the mess.
The librarian isn't fast enough, however... Hermione steps unevenly on one of the irregular objects and loses her footing. You haven't missed a single thing, with your attention completely focused on her. And now she's falling, head first, straight to the floor. Not needing a second glance, you snap your fingers and move your wrist exactly the right way, as if you had your wand ready.
The levitation charm stops her fall a few centimeters off the stony landing. You simply hold her there, unsure about overusing a type of magic you don't control very well. Especially when you're applying it for the first time on this sort of spell.
After a few seconds have trailed away, the brunette seems to realize the collision is not about to happen anymore. She slowly unfolds the tight arms around her head and sets both hands down on the floor to ground herself. Spent, you finally interrupt the spell, breathing heavily, and she steadies her weight on hands and knees.
You look down your arm. The hand you used to perform the wandless spell alternates back and forth from going completely numb to being seized by dozens of prickly stings that explode through your flesh. Expecting to find something terribly wrong with it, your eyes nervously examine every part of the extremity, to no avail. The skin looks intact and you have no problem to clench and unclench it. Only the extreme sensitivity seems to be unusual. You really need help to make sense out of this. Badly.
Glancing back at Hermione, her friends have turned around and seen her, moving quickly to pick up her rucksack and offer help to lift her up. The girl shakes her head at them and finally stands again, clapping her hands together to remove the dust. She stares at the floor, her hands, the broken items all over the place, and finally whirls in your direction, tilting her head curiously.
You earn a lopsided smirk from the brunette and she breathes a low 'thank you' that you can almost hear. Nodding at her, she gives you a last wink before settling between her friends and leaving with them.
The trio talks all the way to the doors of the library, and Ronald's curious gaze eventually finds you. Crossing your arms, you only observe as they exit together. Hermione is checking the rolls of parchment in her rucksack for any signs of damage after the fall, Harry keeps on adjusting his glasses and Ronald stares at you over his shoulder the entire time. You're surprised the ginger manages to find his way without running into a desk or smacking his head on the walls.
Once they're gone, you pick up your bag and the letter for Gabrielle, organizing your thoughts around the list of what's left for you to do before going to lunch.
On your way to the corridors, you stop to look out a window and realize gloomily that there's quite the blizzard going on, with dark overhanging clouds and thick mounds of snow piling up quickly everywhere.
It makes you sigh. A trip to the Owlery is out of the question for the time being. There's no way you'll send Éclair to brave this kind of weather. Sighing, the letter is swiftly tucked into your bag with the rest of your things. It'll have to wait another day. One less thing to do right now.
Moving on, you take a quick detour to the kitchens, right on cue to pick up your precious daily delivery from Dobby. You'll save it till the afternoon break for an energy boost.
When you reach the Great Hall, you notice at once the amused laughter of Luna Lovegood, sitting down close to a group of your friends. Grinning, you take a seat near them and quickly join in the animated debate on the best spell to make the most lasting ice sculptures in the middle of a scorching summer day. Clearly, everyone is trying to keep up their good moods through the bitter weather.
Starting a conversation with the young Ravenclaw, she quickly shares that she's very upbeat after finding all the things the Nargles 'borrowed' for a few days. The blonde is so unusual and perceptive that you make an inward promise to try to understand her interest in so many unconventional creatures.
Bringing up the study group during the weekend, a small argument settles the best meeting time for everyone during Saturday afternoon. If it works out well, maybe there won't be much left for you to review after it. This can win you some extra time to spend with your cute brunette.
As the meal is about to end, you steal a glance at the Gryffindors. Hermione is sitting with her back turned to your table. Not much luck there.
Still, you watch her briefly until it's time to leave. Despite all the conversation and laughing around her, she is presently involved in a rather unpleasant task. Siding with Fierce-girl, who is at her left, both are gesturing wildly and scolding Ronald about his eating manners. Or lack of, from what you can see. You shake your head, wondering if they'll manage to get any improvement on his part.
Right before the bell rings again, you leave with your friends for the dungeons. Your mood goes sour instantly.
Double Potions.
Just what you need after lunch: to be cooped up with Professor Snape for the rest of the afternoon, smelling odd fumes in a dark room, and with a heavy drowsiness undermining your ability to think from your night of little sleep...
Your eyelids already feel heavier by the minute.
This certainly looks like the recipe for disaster.
TBC