Challenge of a Young Heart

by Narthal

Fleur arrives at Hogwarts and struggles to get along with Hermione. Fleur/Hermione.

9. Chapter 9

A/N: My poor updating ability should be enough of a hint on how life's going. Sorry about that. On a good note, Radio will be over this week. I can't wait to have that one in the past. I hope this means some improvement.

I want to thank everyone that sent suggestions of fics to read. I'd mentioned only a few T-rated FleurMione suggestions in the last chapter, all with few chapters. I still don't have the time to read anything long. Actually, hardly anything at all.

Now, about this chapter... Fleur is portrayed with very light blonde hair (the books seem to describe it as lighter than in the films), but still not an absolute white color. The difference has a meaning here.

And it's another long one.

Thank you for sharing your opinions and ideas. :D

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Chapter 9.

Sneaking out the Entrance Hall, Mr. Filch and his cat are the only witnesses to your careful departure. The caretaker has always shown less interest in investigating the foreign students, so it comes as no surprise that a curt nod is enough to stave off any questions from the man, though his distrustful eyes follow you all the way to the doors.

Going past them, you rush into the quiet night awaiting outside. Quick strides take you across the courtyard and you stop only once to look back at the castle. Rows of windows glint weakly against the darkness, highlighting the imposing school from within. It's quite a sight. As you amble away, this feels like your temporary farewell to the affairs of wizards.

You notice the clouds have spread out and covered all the sky while you were dining. Not a single star can be seen overhead now, and before you lose sight of the last traces of light coming from the castle, the tip of your wand is already glowing ahead of you.

A long sequence of silent spells gradually removes the snow from the familiar path to the Beauxbatons carriage. You're particularly careful to watch where you step, for the uneven ground under your feet is full of surprises at your current speed. Somehow you manage to make it, only skidding ungracefully a couple of times, but without any serious consequences. When you get close enough to see your destination in the distance, your eyes check further for Hagrid's cabin.

The door and windows are closed, as they have remained all week, but there are lit torches at the entrance and also ground torches illuminating a trail from near the edge of the forest to his front door. Hagrid probably knows where to expect the visitors to arrive from the woods.

You smile at the sight. It seems he took your message seriously and is prepared for company.

A little later, you reach the carriage and undo the wards to go inside. Everyone else is still at the castle, so the only source of sound and warmth is the soft crackling stack of embers burning at the fireplace of the central hall. You don't waste time looking around and hurry to lock yourself in your room.

Stepping out of your shoes, you remember to first take care of a few important things that you'll have to go through when there's time. Your hand slips into the bag and retrieves those precious items, setting the letter to Gabrielle and the flask of corrosive potion on the desk, and then Hermione's scarf on your bed, by the pillows.

You enjoy a sip of water and a series of deep breaths as your heartbeat returns to normal. With the necessary spells, your trunk is lying open in the middle of the room and two rows of hidden compartments are now visible. You tap only the ones that contain clothing and disclose their contents.

Time to sit down and check your options. A long sigh escapes from you as your stare wanders, regarding the alternatives. This, searching through your Veela belongings, is something you thought you wouldn't be doing until you were back in France.

'Focus, Fleur.'

Okay, what is the appropriate dress code for a meeting like this?

Ceremonial robes? Warrior garb? You take some time considering those. Hmmm... no. You can't be sure the occasion calls for so much. They're ostentatious, quite over the top and you don't want to come off as arrogant by overdressing. Besides, you'd be giving away bits of information about yourself that you want to hold on to, at least for the time being. Not to mention that if any of your Beauxbatons friends sees you like that, you won't hear the end of it for the rest of the term.

Next. Your stare shifts between your Sentinel and Healer suits... Running a quick list of pros and cons in your mind, once again you decide maybe these aren't the best options. Still rather formal, there's plenty of indication of your ranks and the look would be highly unusual for Hogwarts.

You shake your head and remove your cap, setting it on your bed. Perhaps you're overthinking things and you could show up dressed in the school uniform. Frowning, you give this some further thought. It wouldn't hurt to blend well into the atmosphere of Hogwarts as a witch and a student, right?

Finally, you ruffle your hair and settle against it. You went to the village dressed as a student, but in your capacity as a Veela. That's why they believed you in the first place. And that's how you should present yourself now, when you're the one to wait on their visit.

Next option. Scouting uniform, then? Hmm, not bad. Better than the rest. Simple, humble enough and practical, a regular choice of wear for any caste, in any village, and only a little out of the ordinary for wizardkind standards.

Right. With a set mind, you pick the forest green version of the outfit, arrange it on your bed, close your trunk and dash to the bathroom.

It takes a fleeting glance at your bed and, while you shower, your mutinous brain starts once again to conjure images of a steaming mug of hot chocolate to go with that duvet. With whipped cream on top and sprinkles of vanilla and cinnamon essence. And a couple of cookies. Hmm...

You shake your head, smiling, and move those thoughts to another corner of your brain. Only a bit more left to do.

There's now little time to get dry, tidy your hair in a ponytail, dress, grab your wand and leave. You tuck your gloves in your belt and fasten the cloak over your shoulders on your brisk way to Hagrid's cabin. To your concern, there's one last minute until the time is up.

Reaching Hagrid's door, you use your wand again to get rid of the snow, sludge and rocks, producing a large clearing all around the warm trail of torches and up to the forest. For good measure, you conjure small sets of bluebell flames around the new clearing, bringing out more warmth and lighting.

A soft wind plays with the flames, making shadows shift and the cloak snake wildly against your boots. A column of smoke is billowing from the chimney and a soft smell of spices and vegetables makes you wonder what the Gamekeeper is cooking. Probably, a stew to offer the visitors. After such a long journey, they are bound to appreciate a conversation over a hot and tasty plate of food.

Feeling still tired and with nothing else to do, you put your gloves on and start to pace up and down slowly, calming down your adrenaline levels and waiting for the visitors. By now, they're fifteen minutes late and you know how Veela are punctual in their appointments. Perhaps there were difficulties along their way, after today's heavy blizzard.

Both excitement and apprehension take turns battling inside you. Will their visit go smoothly? Can Hagrid benefit from their presence? Did you do the right thing when you took action that led to this?

At last, the distant sound of snow being crushed in a steady rhythm alerts you to their impending arrival. You stand still, facing the spot closest to the source of the noise, watching for any signs of the visitors. A little later, three unicorns of the purest white, more so than the color of the snow beneath their golden hooves, come trotting gallantly in tandem from between the trees.

Their posture is impeccable, long manes and tails whipping at will, and their low snorts spread a hazy mist in front of them. These are fantastic creatures, magnificent in their raw strength and natural beauty.

And then you look up to watch the Veela who are on their backs, riding expertly without saddles or bridles.

You notice that they're almost completely concealed from view, except for fractions of their striking faces. All are wearing heavy black cloaks that reach down to their shoes and barely flutter in the wind. The lowered hoods and gloves must have helped to keep them protected from the cold during the long ride.

The Veela who arrived last is a little away from the others, making an attempt to calm down her younger and most restless unicorn, that took to trying to rear on its hind legs. She carries a longbow and curiously glances at the profile of the castle whenever she has the chance. The one in the middle is cradling a small bundle in one arm that you can't discern well. And the leader wields the wooden staff of an Elder.

After giving them some time to take in their surroundings, you walk in their direction and stop to bow at the place where you start to sense the frontier of their charms. When you straighten up again, you know they have sensed you as well, and three sets of eyes are now trained on you.

You address the small group in a clear voice, "Good evening. It is an 'onor to welcome you to 'Ogwarts. I am ze student zat found your village a few days ago."

"Fleur Delacour," the leader whispers softly.

"Oui. To assist in your visit," you add, nodding.

A few careful steps later, you are standing beside the Elder with a raised hand, offering to help her down from the steed, when you notice the Veela are all firmly staring at something behind you. The Sentinel in particular has narrowed her eyes and you can see she's assessing for danger.

Turning around, your stomach quickly crunches into a tight knot. The Gryffindor trio is knocking on Hagrid's door.

You sigh loudly and shake your head, "Please excuse me. I will fix zis." And there goes your chance to find some time alone with the Veela to ask the number of things plaguing your mind.

In large strides, you return to Hagrid's home and both boys are making a ruckus, knocking and calling Hagrid to open the door. Hermione is standing behind them, with a very annoyed look on her face and arms crossed in front of her.

"'Ello. What are you doing 'ere?" you ask loudly enough to be heard over the noise and get their attention.

They silence down and glance at you, once again stunned by your outfit.

Frowning at them, but mostly at Hermione, you ask with a hint of frustration, "I 'ad asked you not to zink about zis, non?"

"I tried to tell them not to leave the castle, Fleur." She gives the boys a hard look, "But no, they wouldn't listen to me."

You finally focus on them, "I do not understand. What did you expect, coming 'ere now?"

"Hagrid's our friend, too. We'd like to see him," Ronald says defensively, standing behind Harry.

"Stop that, Mione," Harry interjects, not flinching under his friend's glare. "He's been locked up all week, Fleur, because of that Skeeter cow. We want him back!"

You understand his concern, and his choice of words gives away his discontentment with this entire situation, "It is a delicate issue, Mr. Potter-"

"Harry," the boy interrupts you awkwardly, "erm, please, call me Harry, Fleur. Okay?"

Nodding, you start over, though your accent gets in the way of saying it as he does, "Of course. Je suis désolée. As I was saying, 'Arry, perhaps 'e is not ready to face any of us, yet." Tilting your head towards the group of visitors, you continue in a more hopeful tone, "I zink zey will be more successful to help 'im zrough zis. But we all need to step aside so zey can approach ze cabin. Perhaps you should return to ze castle?"

Harry chances a look in the direction you showed and shakes his head vigorously, "We are staying."

Hermione observes the unusual group and can't resist making her own question, "Are they... Veela?"

Craning his neck in all directions around you to try to get a glimpse at them, Ronald blurts at once, "We have Veela here?"

"Oui. Zey 'ave known 'Agrid for a long time," you say. "Ze Skeeter article was very unfair to 'im. Zeir presence tonight is a token of zeir friendship. Veela 'ardly leave ze forest. Zis is a special exception for 'im."

Ron speaks dreamily, "They must be so beautiful. Blimey, I don't want to leave."

"Zey are pure-Veela, hmm... Ronald," you testily try out the boy's first name as well and he doesn't seem to mind. "You would not be yourself under ze effects of zeir charms. If you are intent on staying and I cannot convince to ze contrary, we should at least make room for zem to reach 'is door. Zis is for your well-being," you reply in no uncertain terms, waving your hand to a side in a silent request that they follow your directions.

Harry complies and pulls Ronald away with him. As Hermione is about to go after them, you hold her shoulder softly and whisper for her ears alone, "Please, stay behind me at all times. Do not go near zem by yourself."

It's obvious that the girl doesn't have a clue of your reasons for saying that, but she nods, and then hurries to catch up with her friends. At a slower rate, you stroll towards them, making sure they are at a safe distance from the trail of torches before you take your place, standing at their right and slightly ahead of them.

Your eyes find the Veela again. They have dismounted and are talking quietly among themselves as they settle the unicorns close to the bordering trees. The steeds are right in your sight line, concealing the Veela, but from the little there's to see, you can guess they are removing their cloaks and rearranging their accessories, getting ready for the meeting.

When they finally step around the unicorns and you have the chance to look at them, you think it's a terrific thing that you're so completely frozen on the spot that your jaw doesn't hang open. Or simply unhinges and falls off.

Long velvety formal robes have been revealed, which you know are matched to the same color, but in a darker shade, to the eyes of each Veela - that means blue, purple and green in their case. A fine goldwork all along the lower hem of the robes, around their necks and at the edge of the long sleeves states their standing and caste in their respective Clans. A more elaborate silver embroidery on the right side of their chests tells of their personal accomplishments.

This is not just any friendly visiting party. It's a Consular Triad, as you recall from the folktales that your grandmother used to tell when you were a child. Tales of old about heroic quests turned legends, from a time when the kingdoms of the magical races carefully swore their alliances, knitted in honor, blood and magic.

They are offering Hagrid the same distinguished treatment reserved over the centuries for monarchs and powerful allies. This is something your grandmother will absolutely want to hear about. You wonder if the Gamekeeper is fully aware of how highly they think of him.

As the visitors advance in your direction to go to the cabin, they come into view under the feeble lighting and you can finally watch them thoroughly.

It's a formidable display of beauty, elegance and poise. They look inhumanly sublime, ethereal, almost unreal. Every move is so effortless, they appear to glide over the ground. Silky hair strands softly flap behind them, caught in an undetectable breeze that must be blowing only for their sake. An inspired artist in a perfectionist streak must've been the one to sculpt their features. And they don such a candid expression of serenity that you find it difficult to believe anyone from a different race could ever match.

Without a doubt, mesmerizing.

In respect to tradition, the Triad comprises a Seeress, a Healer and a Sentinel.

The Elder is also the Seeress, still taking the lead of the group. Her robes are of a dark blue, in a stark contrast to the light tint of her eyes, her fair skin and the wheat-golden color of her very long hair. There are a few shallow creases around her pale pink lips, the only giveaway of her actual age, which you'd estimate somewhere around early sixties. The staff is taller than she is, thoroughly polished and carved in an elaborate pattern, probably related to her Clan.

This Veela is the embodiment of humility, a regular feature within her caste and also a highly desirable trait in her position as a ruler. She must lead not by the force of orders or harsh threats, but by sheer respect earned in the eyes of her peers. And she seems to wears well the double burden of authority and foresight. Her kind expression and piercing stare, ever so present in the Seeresses you know, probably come from years of patiently unraveling secrets in the future, of making careful decisions that affect the lives of many.

The Healer receives your attention next. She took the place at the Elder's right, glancing at her often, and her height is a bit shorter than the others'. A unique sway marks the way she walks and there's a very exotic quality about this one. Her skin has a light olive tone, and the details of purple eyes, wine-red lips and black hair arranged in a waterfall braid make for an enticing combination. From what you can guess, she seems to be in her mid-thirties.

The narrow silver belt around her waist holds a very small knife, commonly used to harvest herbs, and small pouches to store a variety of potions. The ones she brought tonight were probably chosen with Hagrid in mind. According to the way their meeting goes, she'll determine the need to leave him some of them. In her left arm you can now see the small unwrapped bundle, a gift to the Gamekeeper of evergreen seedlings of a rare hybrid linden tree, ready to be transplanted to fertile soil.

To their left follows the Sentinel. This is the one that spikes your curiosity the most. Her hair is a pure platinum-white, with rare sprinkles of soft gold here and there that you suspect is a phantom reflection from the torches. Unusually, it's... well, short. From what you can see, just down to the level of her nape. The haircut is flattering, with loose strands reaching around her ears and careful layers to give it volume and shape, framing well her features.

And you can't bring yourself to stop looking for a while. This is the first time you've seen a Veela with short hair. No, actually, you've never even heard of Veela with short hair. It must be rarer than finding a Troll with the ability to recite poetry.

Her skin is very pale and all the light colors of her hair and complexion make a perfect background to highlight cherry-red lips, the rosy tint over her cheekbones and deep green eyes. Through the bangs covering her forehead, you catch a glimpse of honey-colored eyebrows. You don't even know if it's possible, since these are all Veela, but her features seem a little more refined than the others', designed to a precision that could defy an observant eye to find any imperfections.

A long huntress' knife is strapped to her lean waist, a quiver with arrows hangs at her back and her longbow is securely held in her left hand. She's too young to be considered for a Triad, probably barely of age, by Veela standards. That alone should vouch for her abilities, though you know there's more to it.

When you start to sense their charms again, you brace yourself and build your own barrier once more, only this time spreading its invisible reach at a larger range, to cover the position of the students. If they stay in constant clash, you reason there's a chance that the Gryffindors will be spared.

Your breathing picks up as soon as they start to interact. With every step they walk closer now, you can feel a new degree of tension as the charms collide and engage in their silent battle. You're not at the best of days to be going through this, but it somehow feels easier than at your trip to the village, even with the added challenge of protecting three humans, too. It makes you wonder how the trio at your side is coping.

Chancing a quick glance at them, you almost smile at their awestruck states, each letting it show in their own way. Ronald is purple and gaping, Harry is clearly unable to blink, and Hermione's eyes are bulging out a little. The girl is probably using all of her will control to keep her gaze unlocked, taking in a bit of each of the Veela before looking at the other.

You clear your throat and the brunette's glance strays to you, her curiosity taking over. You give her a small smile and she manages to smile back. Good, so her mind is in working condition. She's only surprised, not affected. The blockade is working as necessary.

To distract yourself from the charms, you go back to surveying the Veela instead. It might help you understand them better.

The Elder leans heavily on her staff at times, which she grips with obvious strength, and it oddly makes you wonder about a pain in her knee or hip. You watch in admiration as she still pulls off the gliding-instead-of-walking performance, even though it should be a cumbersome task. Whatever happened, it must be an old wound, since she doesn't request assistance and the others don't seem surprised by it.

The Healer has an air of apparent aloofness, but through her practiced mask transpires a certain uneasiness at walking out of the woods. You can see it in the twitch of her fingers every time her right hand swings close to her knife, and it isn't hard to guess that she's on heavy alert.

And then, there's the Sentinel. This one should be the most anxious of the group, but she looks the exact opposite, completely in her element. Her eyes casually roam, from the castle to the cabin, then to the edge of the forest, the lake, the Beauxbaton carriage, and a full cycle again. Any small noise and they zoom away to the new disturbance, and then return to the previous routine. Her attitude says it all. This one is ready to react swiftly at the predictable. You bet she can be quite creative in the face of the unpredictable, too.

A short-lived sprinkle of light dances over the Sentinel's knife, drawing your attention. Only it doesn't look like a knife at this range, but rather a short sword. The soft lighting is enough for you to see well the goblin-made hilt, finding a pattern of symbols there that you'd recognize in your sleep.

While you're still looking, the Sentinel glances in the direction of your group for the first time. Your stares meet and she smiles warmly, nodding once in recognition. If you ever doubted it before, now you're convinced this is the owner of the soft voice back at that encounter by the village. The one and the same with the fancy agarwood scent that you trailed up in the trees yesterday.

You take a deep breath, release it slowly and keep an impassive face.

In a surprising move, the Veela take a detour from the torches leading to the cabin and veer to your assembly. A snap of the Elder's fingers melts the snow in front of them, carving a steady path to where you are. They barely notice the younger students when they come to a stop, and their attention wraps around you, the hostess to this small gathering.

Without further delay, you slowly bring your right knee down to the ground and incline your head, "Forgive me for not recognizing ze Triad before. I could not see your robes under ze travel cloaks."

"Rise, child," the Elder speaks in a soft voice, her mere presence radiating authority. "It does not suit you to kneel before your equals."

"Merci," you reply quietly and stand up, keeping your head low.

"Fleur Isabelle Delacour, we thank you for waiting on us. Allow me to introduce Hestia Petros, of the Elatia Clan, our finest Healer," she continues, starting the introductions and waving her hand at the Veela at her right.

You unglove your right hand and keep it open, palm upturned, offering it to the Veela. Hestia hands the gift she's carrying to the Sentinel. Her features light up briefly in a smile that could rival the beauty of a sunset and her intense stare studies you for a few moments. Ronald makes a weird sound, a mixture of gurgling and gasping, but no one takes notice. Hestia then bows, removes her own glove and brings her hand to hover above yours, palm facing down.

You let the tingling surge of your magic gather and collect in the center of your hand, just as she does the same. A fresh smell of lavender fills the air and her magic seems to reach out in small tendrils that flick over your skin, precise and methodical in its probing. Shortly, she steps back, bows again, gloves her hand and collects her precious cargo from the Sentinel.

"This is Katalin Virág, of the Szárny Clan, our highest ranking Warrior," the Elder proceeds with a hint of pride.

A frown flickers on your brows. 'She was called a Warrior, not a Sentinel? Not even a Huntress? Why in such a peac-'

"Fleur, we meet again," the Warrior chants in a whispery soft voice, too outlandishly charming to belong to a human being. You feel a harder pressure against your charms. "How extraordinary. You're not the same as when we first met."

Something unusual must have shown on your face, for her lips curve into a smug smirk that interrupts your thoughts. It makes your eyes narrow considerably. She treads closer and you're overwhelmed with the intense scent of agarwood. The Warrior takes the time to appreciate your scent as well. She carefully keeps the longbow in her left hand, almost hugging it to her side.

With your right hands stretching near, you notice a certain stiffness in her wrist and a small purple shape between her thumb and index finger. Her magic feels thick and strong, reaching out to drown your hand in warmth. It lasts longer than Hestia's exchange, but then she also retracts her hand and returns to her place.

"And I am Anca Sarac, of the Calenica Clan, Seeress and Elder of the Eilean Village at the Forbidden Forest," the older Veela claims, bowing before approaching you.

Her hand rises above yours and you realize how soothing and light her magic feels. You inhale softly, recognizing the essence of jasmine as that of her pheromones.

Unexpectedly, while her eyes give you a deep and searching look, boring their way through to your very soul, her hand drops slowly and makes contact, gripping your palm. You barely have time to gasp in surprise when a powerful wave of magic invades your hand, reaching deep to spread up your arm and into the rest of you. This is the first time you feel the prickling sensation take over your entire body and you can't fight back or control it.

A series of images flutter in your mind's eye, mixing with erratic flashes of your surroundings. It's all too fast for you to understand. Faces, figures and landscapes distort into unrecognizable shapes and colors, illogical swirls mixed with the occasional soft humming of voices in the background, sometimes meaningless sounds, and then loud screams and growls that make your bones chill.

You totter back a little, but she doesn't let go. The sensation intensifies.

Even though you're wide awake and your eyes are open, what you see and sense now is only what is going on in your mind. Vaguely, you realize you're losing connection with reality. The skin against your hand is the only perception you trust to be real.

And then, apparently as fast as it all started, your mind is still and silent again. The episode ended, probably lasting only a few seconds to the others, but what seemed to be very long minutes for you.

You blink a few times to focus your eyes and steady yourself, only to realize your forehead is damp from cold sweat and your knees are half-bent, not supporting your full weight.

A pressure by your waist makes you notice that Hermione is the only reason you're still standing up. Katalin has moved very close to you, but the brunette caught you first, it seems. One of the girl's arms is wrapped around you and she's holding your left arm over her shoulder.

Blushing, you straighten up at once and nod at the brunette, who gives an uncertain glance in Anca's direction. The girl must have felt reassured in some way, for she starts to release you and takes a few steps back, standing once again between her friends. Katalin still looks at you with obvious concern, but ends up retreating as well.

You take deep breaths and fight down the strong residual nausea, wondering if you'll ever allow a Seeress to touch you in the future. The last bouts of tingling slowly die out in your right hand while you glove it, closing the fist in the hopes it'll return to normal again soon.

You catch a glimpse of Anca's curious stare at Hermione and are relieved to notice the girl reacting with ease, standing upright and relaxed. It lasts a few seconds, until the Elder turns her attention to you once more and smiles in that calm, detached and maddeningly enigmatic way of the Seeresses. As if nothing unusual had just taken place, and turning your mind upside down and inside out was the most natural thing for her to do. Up to this day, you still wonder if they receive special lessons to learn to look like that.

Sighing, you try to come to terms with the fact that there's no point in making her any questions about what happened. Her secret oath forbids any explanations of the visions. You'll just have to hold on to one more set of questions.

"It is my chance for introductions now," you say, overcoming the unpleasant stirrings inside and testing the use of your voice. "Zese are students at 'Ogwarts - Ronald Weasley, 'Ermione Granger and 'Arry Potter."

Anca raises one of her elegant eyebrows, "Fleur, have you told these students about us?"

You reply softly, "Non. 'Agrid is zeir friend. Zey were 'ere trying to talk to 'im, when I first delivered ze message of your visit. I only said ze right time and place. And now zey came to knock on 'is door again to see if 'e 'ad a change of mind."

"I understand." The Elder nods and finally faces them, offering a warm smile, "Greetings from the woods, Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter. Hagrid is a blessed man to earn such devoted friendship. We respect his friends as we respect Hagrid himself."

In an unspoken agreement, the Veela Triad curtsey to the very surprised teenagers, remaining silent afterwards, calmly analyzing them. The Gryffindors are at a loss on what to do, but they eventually bow in response and try to keep straight faces under the scrutiny.

You notice Katalin is looking intently at Ronald, while said redhead can't tear his eyes away from Hestia.

"Ronald Weasley..." The Sentinel rolls the words around her mouth slowly, appraising the stunned boy who gapes in surprise at being addressed by her. "Would you, by any chance, be related to one Charles Weasley, who works at the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary?"

In a new deep shade of burgundy, the overwhelmed boy stutters an answer, "H-he-he's my brother."

"That is very interesting, Mr. Weasley. Your brother is an exemplary wizard," she says, grinning at him with sincere amusement. From her expression, it becomes clear it is an exceptional compliment, coming from her. "He knows his dragons. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

By the look on his face, Ronald himself is wondering why there's no steam coming out of his flaming ears.

While everyone's eyes are trained on the nearly fainting boy, the quieter Hestia decides to speak, and she turns to Hermione, "Miss Grandzer, from Gryffindor House?"

Hermione's eyes widen at that and she freezes in shock, not even breathing anymore.

The Veela proceeds in a grave and solemn tone, "Your name is the most known to me among your friends. I believe you are the student that speaks of free houze-elves."

The brunette starts to bite her lip anxiously and you have to strain your eyes to see her weak nod.

"Your ideas have a long reach," the Healer adds with a pleasant lilt, bowing her head respectfully at the girl. There's a fresh tint of admiration in her voice and she smiles cordially, "You would be surprised to know."

The dazzled redhead has his stare glued again on Hestia, and he suddenly sputters, "I've been saying it all along. Haven't I been saying it? Support those poor house-elves."

You give the boy an inquiring look and you can tell Harry is having trouble holding in a smile. Hermione, on the other hand, looks ready to hex him on the spot.

Anca breaks down the tension, her captivating laughter pulling in everyone's attention.

"It looks like we have been given the privilege of meeting a most unique group of students tonight. A trio that we all recognize in one way or the other," she explains. Her stare moves from Ronald to Hermione, and finally stops on the student left for last. "Mr. Potter, I understand you are no stranger in the world of wizards."

The boy seems once again uncomfortable about the whole celebrity-child theme so present in his life.

"To us, however, there was another Potter that took precedence in gaining our attention." With a kind smile, she watches the surge of interest in his face, "I used to follow your father, Mr. Potter, in his adventures through these grounds, many, many years ago."

"You knew my Dad?" he asks with a mix of incredulity and wishful hope, stepping forward to have a better look at the Elder. The other Gryffindor's gapes are priceless.

"Oh, yes," she chuckles in amusement, bending her left leg and adjusting her position to lean her weight on the staff. You don't miss the action or her new posture. It's typical of a bad knee. Anca notices your stare, but doesn't interrupt her explanation to the boy, "I knew James Potter and his friends, too. They were the ones that never realized we were there. At the time, I was in charge of the patrolling team that kept a close watch on Prongs, Padfoot and Moony, as they called themselves."

"The Marauders," Hermione states, exchanging a surprised look with Harry.

Even Ronald decides to contribute. "There was a fourth one, my-" he stops to frown shortly, "I mean, a rat."

"The small one, yes. I remember him. They came out at night to practice. It was harder for him to learn the ways to become an Animagus," the Elder says, nodding slowly. "Prongs and Padfoot learned faster. Their magic was strong. The animals they became were larger, powerful enough to deserve Moony's respect. Once the four boys were ready, the nights of the full moon started with Wormtail controlling the Whomping Willow. Then, the others took over."

Harry asks with more confidence, "Did you always follow them?"

"It was my special assignment, Mr. Potter," she confirms firmly, closing her eyes and sighing. "Two of us tracked them all night long when Moony suffered his transformation. We were there to guarantee protection for the students and the villagers at Hogsmeade. Many near-accidents were avoided under our vigilance. And with all the help he could get, no one was infected with Lycanthropy through Moony."

"Why did you do it?" Hermione queries quietly, as if she was afraid to interrupt the conversation.

Anca gives the curious girl a benign stare. "Werewolves are a particular concern of ours. Even when they are invited into the school as students," she smiles suggestively at Harry and the brunette, "or professors."

"What?" Ronald cuts in, wide-eyed and now gaping, while Hermione uncomfortably shifts her weight from a leg to the other.

With a nervous glance at his friends, Harry tries to put their scrambled thoughts into words, though he doesn't make much sense to you, "Then, last year, you...?"

"Some of us were there that night, Mr. Potter. Not I, unfortunately," she replies in a forlorn tone, glancing down at her leg. "My health now renders me unfit to chase after a werewolf in his prime."

Harry frowns as he seems to reach an unpleasant conclusion, "You could've captured Wormtail."

"Not without showing ourselves. And that, Mr. Potter, is something we were unwilling to do, unless it was a matter of saving one of your lives. Our priority was to keep Moony in check. In due time, it was providential that so many good things happened. Padfoot took action quickly, the..." she pauses, glancing quickly at Hermione, "other Miss Granger called Moony away from your exposed group and, when all seemed lost, Buckbeak protected you before we needed to step in."

"It was a night to be remembered, wouldn't you say?" she asks with a smile, though it looks heartbreakingly sad. "That was when you cast your powerful Patronus, Mr. Potter. Thanks to you, Prongs galloped through these woods once again."

You stopped registering the words in the middle of the long explanation and interject before you miss the chance, already feeling the signs of a major headache in the bloom, "Uzzer Miss Granger?"

Hermione answers in an apologetic tone, "Ermm... It's a long story, Fleur."

"Anuzzer one, zen," you reply with less humor then you intended originally.

The brunette gives you a weird look, until Harry speaks addressing all the Veela, "It was a wrong judgment, suspecting him. We know Professor Lupin. He is a good man."

"Oh, but I agree with your opinion, Mr. Potter. A good boy he was then. And a good man he is now," Anca comments seriously. "Moony would never turn into a dark beast. The heart within would not allow it. Those three friends were inseparable."

"Y-you keep forgetting the fourth Marauder," Ronald stutters once more.

"For good reasons. Wouldn't you agree, Mr. Weasley?" The Elder gives the nervous boy a hard stare as her words become heavy, though her voice is even softer, "He was not a true friend. Darkness and ambition thrived in that boy. Wormtail craved the skills of the others. As he grew older, greed for power controlled him completely. His partners paid the price of all his wrong choices. One with his life, the other with his freedom."

Harry nods silently, listening with rapt attention.

"We were very satisfied to learn last year that Padfoot had escaped Azkaban. Sadly, his fugitive status leaves him little chance for comfort among wizards," Anca continues. "We assist him as we can. Every time our scouts detect his presence near Hogwarts, we ease the way for him. Padfoot arrives in pitiful condition, but a few days of safe shelter and fresh food allow him to improve slowly."

The Elder waves her hand at the other Veela, "Katalin and Hestia usually scout together. They are experienced in tracking his moves."

Katalin nods and adds in a smooth voice, "We set up diversions close to Hogsmeade. It gives him more liberty to move around."

"You've been protecting him?" Harry asks with traces of disbelief, though he tries to tone it down not to sound impolite, blushing softly.

Anca's soothing voice reassures the boy, "We trust him. Sirius Black would never betray his friends. He is not the killer that wizards were led to believe." She steps closer to Harry and lays a hand gently on his shoulder. "What else could prove it better than his actions? Is that not the reason why he risks his own safety to return to Hogwarts? He's looking after you, Mr. Potter, his friend's only son."

Without realizing it, your eyebrows slowly but steadily rose to their limits. They're talking about the fugitive Sirius Black. Your brain is reeling, trying to commit the overload of information to memory so you can ask more about it later. Hestia and Katalin are following the conversation without any hints of surprise. At least the Gryffindors look a bit taken aback, though you bet you have it worst.

Probably worrying with the late hour, the Elder stops to glance shortly at Hagrid's door. She then takes a few steps back and nods at Hestia and Katalin, "It is time." Smiling at the students, she adds in a friendly tone, "We shall return soon. Let us hope it will be with good news."

The older Veela slowly whirls to the cabin and Hestia follows suit immediately, accompanying the Elder. Katalin, however, remains where she is.

"Fleur," she says softly as the rustle of her companions' robes indicates their growing distance from your group. You let your stare accompany the wandering Veela before finding Katalin again.

The Sentinel is quietly regarding you and, for whatever reason, she seems oblivious to the trio at your side. Perhaps she's stayed so long in the woods that it is more comfortable for her to talk to Veela than humans. A weighing discomfort amplifies around you, making known that her charms are, indeed, very strong, and you sharpen your concentration to keep your mind in place.

"There really is something different about you," the Veela adds. "So much progress in such short time. I almost can't recognize your charms. And your change has only just begun. You're even protecting your friends from the effects of the daze, aren't you?"

You glance at the other students with a small smile to make sure she notices you do consider important to remember their presence, "Oui. Apparently, it works."

"For now." Distractedly, she also takes a better look at the silent trio, "You are not strong enough to keep this for long. Why don't you make it easy on yourself? Use your wand. A shield charm should do the trick."

You retort at once, keeping an unemotional expression. "Are you testing me, Katalin? My muzzer taught me manners."

Her chiming laughter fills the air. It is a beautiful sound, however galling at the moment. "How did you learn to do it? You don't look old enough for that part of your training."

"No one taught me," you state defensively, facing the inquisitive Sentinel again. "I 'ave done zis on my own since ze age of twelve."

"Twelve. Too young, then," her brows slowly knit together and she tilts her head, watching you. "Rogue problems require quick, creative thinking. Someday, I would like to hear that story. Did it work?"

So she reached the right conclusion. You feel glad that she didn't dig further, "It fit ze occasion."

"Good, very good." Noticing you didn't elaborate, Katalin changes the subject at once, "How is life in the castle?"

"Everything 'as been well, zank you, but I do not live in ze castle. I only attend classes and 'ave meals zere. My sleeping quarters and ze places where I spend most of my spare time are in ze carriage from my school, over zere," you reply, showing her the large structure beyond Hagrid's cabin.

"I was wondering about that. There's something else new in the lake. I don't remember that ship, either," she says, with a sharp look in its direction.

"It belongs to ze delegation of Durmstrang," you explain, glancing at the anchored vessel, bobbing on the dark water. A soft breeze must've picked up speed over the lake, for the black sails are rippling and luffing.

"Ah, yes. The wizarding school in the north, where winter never ends. A place for quiet and solitude, away from human civilization," she replies with a vacant look, taking a deep breath. The pressure on your charms increases considerably and you notice her grip on the longbow growing tighter. In a firmer voice, the Veela adds, "What an interesting year this must be for students at Hogwarts, then. So many new people to meet, so much to learn."

You nod slowly, watching her. Katalin was surprised to see the carriage and the ship. She knows these grounds well, so why wasn't she aware of the most recent events taking place at the castle? Trying to keep your mind focused, you push the conversation in a different direction in the hopes of reeling this puzzling character out of her distracted state. "What about you, Katalin? You are very far from 'ome. What brings you to ze Forbidden Forest?"

"My family visits other villages constantly. I grew up with plenty of traveling, especially to the most isolated ones. The habit became my own. I took a particular liking to the Eilean Villages," she answers in a subdued tone, almost dreamily.

Her answer was evasive enough to avoid the specifics of your question. Perhaps you're on to something. "It must be a long stay zis time, if you were made a part of a local Consular Triad."

"I am currently stationed here, as I have been for the past couple of years. I belong to this village now," she whispers as she closes her eyes and her charms nearly break through yours, agarwood flooding your senses to the limits. This is getting much worse.

"Is everything well zere?" you struggle to redirect her own question, a small tremor shaking your entire being. You frown, pulling yourself together. Has she remained in the woods ever since she decided to live here? Two years in complete isolation?

"This is different. No place can ever compare to home. Mother always said that," her answer sounds almost automatic, her mind far, far away from your surroundings.

The charms are becoming unbearable to withstand. You have to coax her back to reasonable levels. "May I ask for a favor?" The strangled words escape your lips in a whisper.

A few wrinkles on her forehead match the concern in her voice and her unfocused stare quickly sharpens up on you, "Certainly."

"Could you please... contain your charms? I am exceedingly tired to endure zis," you continue with a cracking voice.

"Forgive me. It was an instinctive reaction," she explains, finally putting a stop to the waves crashing against your dwindling safe harbor.

"Instincts?" you ask raggedly, massaging your temples, unable to fully convey the indignation you are feeling at this. "Do you zink I pose a zreat to you?"

"Not that type of reaction, Fleur. It was a way to bring out your pheromones. Sweet almonds," the Warrior argues and inhales deeply, lost in thought. "I haven't sensed anything like them in a long time. Brings back memories."

"Some memories zose must be," you mumble more to yourself than expecting anyone to listen.

"Indeed," she replies with a lazy grin and in a tone that you can't decipher, but makes you regret making that remark to begin with.

She seems so distracted now that she's unaware the other Veela are already knocking on Hagrid's door. It should be time for the Sentinel to leave as well. And you could use the rest.

Perhaps a little hint is appropriate. "Is zere anything else I can do for you, La Fae?"

The effect of your words is instantaneous, though completely unintended. She stops smiling at once. The alarmed look on her face has an eyebrow climbing high on your forehead. Katalin turns to check on Anca and Hestia, only calming down when she realizes they're distant and busy enough not to have heard you.

"What did you call me?" she asks weakly, taking a step closer to you. "Have you heard my name before?"

Your expression remains the same and you count off the small list that makes you sure about what you're saying, "Szárny, Warrior, agarwood, birth mark, white 'air, too young for a Consular Triad..."

You quickly glance at her sword, "And carrying Magyril." Lowering your head, you speak in the same stealthy tone as hers, "It all fits. I zink I made ze correct guess, non?"

She closes her eyes and nods despite herself, "When did you figure it out?"

"I 'ad my suspicions before," you answer truthfully, though you're not about to reveal the detail of Harry's magical map, "and tonight, after you removed your travel cloak, ze details were just zere, ready to be seen."

Tilting your head at the other Veela, it's your turn to make a question, "I presume zey do not know?"

"Anca does. She's a first class Seeress. Even what I want to keep from her..." she sighs wearily, shaking her head. "It doesn't stay that way for long."

You nod in understanding. The Seeress at your village is someone who can see right through you, too.

"But you recognized the signs. How can you be aware of them?" the Warrior asks in a rather demanding, almost urgent tone.

"My grandmuzzer taught me about ze Szárny," you reply simply. "She studied all over Europe when she was young, learning about ze legends and stories of ze Clans. I loved to listen to 'er."

She slowly nods, evidently surprised. "So you know," she mutters a little later, with a mixture of wonder and confusion. "And yet, you don't treat me any different."

"I was also taught not to show someone like you unusual deference. At least not in your current status," you watch the frowning Veela, hanging to every one of your words, a troubled look still quite clear about her. "Unless ze conditions for your special assignment arise, zere is no reason to see you under anuzzer perspective."

Old memories from conversations with your grandmother replay in your mind. The Warrior in front of you has a long lineage of reputable ancestors to live up to, as well as a hard path of responsibilities lying ahead of her. That's a life you wouldn't choose for yourself if you had an option out of it. Katalin never had that option. She was born without one.

You sigh and try to offer her something that might ease her discomfort, "And ze little I did just now, I can stop. I will not call you by title again, should zat be your preference."

"Yes, it is. Please," there's a degree of fatigue in her voice, making her sound bored and older than her years. "I find it exhausting to live up to the expectations of blood all the time. It's a relief to be treated like anyone else, don't you agree?"

"I would not know, Katalin. You are speaking to a part-Veela zat lives among wizards. I am one of zose anyone-elses. Blood does not come wiz as many demands for me," you counter with conviction.

"No," she replies slowly, carefully, "maybe not. I meant no disrespect. In my eyes, it doesn't lessen your worth. On the contrary, actually. Your blood has an interesting mix, Fleur. You seem to have the best of both worlds. Some emotional control, from the human side. And from the Veela, strong charms. It's surprising that they can be so gentle. But I can't say the same for your pheromones. Those are-"

"Out of control, I know. I am working on zat. Or I would be, if I knew 'ow," you grouse in dismay.

Anca calls out for Katalin and she swerves to acknowledge the Elder, "I should go."

The Sentinel sneaks a short look at the unicorns and frowns. You can guess what that means, "Oui, you really should. 'Agrid is waiting for you. I can tend to ze unicorns while you are wiz 'im."

She seems uncertain to accept, glancing at the unicorns again, "I appreciate the offer, but there are three of them, Fleur. I won't let you do that by yourself. We can work faster together while Anca and Hestia get started. I'll see Hagrid after we're done. How's that?"

The trio trades a look and Hermione moves closer, speaking for her friends, "It's alright. We'll help. Fleur can show us what to do."

The Veela slowly nods at the Gryffindors and sounds relieved, "Thank you. That is very kind of you. Here," she adds, removing a small bag attached to her belt and handing it to you, "these are their favorite sugar-honey lumps. They can have as many as they want."

"And fresh water? Or something else?" you ask, wondering about any other special instructions to follow.

"Water, yes. They should appreciate some water," she says. "The ride was long."

"We will take good care of zem." Realizing most of her accessories will be unnecessary inside the cabin, you volunteer somewhat uncertainly, "Would you like me to take your longbow and quiver, too?"

She regards you in silence before agreeing, "Certainly, why not? Hagrid's home has always been a crowded place." Katalin presents you the items, keeping only the sheathed sword at her belt, "Please, handle them carefully."

As you're nodding and securely taking hold of her things, the Sentinel continues in an inviting tone, "Go on and put them to good use, Fleur. We'll be busy in there for some time. It must've been a while since you last had the chance."

You raise a challenging eyebrow at her, "You do not even know if I am like you."

"Call it intuition. Something tells me you have it in you," she replies with the smallest of smiles, turning sideways to leave. The Warrior takes a single step and stops, hesitating.

Glancing at the Veela patiently waiting at the door, you ask a soft "Katalin?" to prompt her from her thoughts.

"There's an interesting old saying in my Clan, Fleur, about how a first impression lasts for life. Elders have passed it down from generation to generation until its roots were lost in time." The Sentinel's voice is too low now for the Gryffindors to hear, as if she was being careful to speak to your ears only. Her head hangs down a little and the awkward position conceals most of her face from you, "That rings very true to us, Veela. Little do we need, to learn the best and the worst in each other. There never is any room for mistakes."

If you weren't looking, you'd miss the flash of green checking your expression through dangling bangs.

Lower and lower, her voice fades to a weak whisper, "It's a very rare occasion when someone makes a striking first impression."

Her lips slowly curl as the few words start to shuffle and reshuffle your features to mirror the surprise twisting inside you. She spends a few more seconds to fall back into her neutral expression before drifting away.

At last you don't detect any unfamiliar charms in range and can stop worrying about your blockade. It's refreshing to ease your mind once again. Soon, the Triad stands together, knocking and calling Hagrid's name. There's a soft squeaking noise of rusty hinges in motion and, right on time, you catch a last glimpse of the visitors gliding indoors.

Whirling in the other direction, you head for the unicorns, shaking your head the entire way. You look at the items in your hands and think of their owner. What a character. Veela think humans are weird. Well, some of them make an effort to take the cake, at times.

Footsteps follow you to the first line of trees and you stop in your tracks for a quick request to the Gryffindors, "Please, wait 'ere. I will bring ze unicorns when zey are ready. You should give zem some space, especially 'Arry and Ronald."

They nod and take a few steps back. You set the bow and quiver next to the Veela's cloaks, noticing they are piled on a rock too dry and clean not to have experienced the effects of magic. Standing straight, you tie Katalin's bag to your belt and face the majestic creatures, smiling. The unicorns raise their heads high when they see you, their long manes spilling loosely around their necks.

"Wow. Jus' look at that," Ronald exclaims in awe, a little behind you. "They ride unicorns in the forest, mate. Is that cool or what?"

Approaching the unicorns, you remove your gloves and stop a few feet away, extending your right hand at them, "'Ello, zere. Your friends asked me to look after you. Are you 'ungry? 'Ow about some water?"

"Definitely cool," Harry replies to his friend, excitement seeping into his voice. "Check their horns, Ron. And all three are whiter than the snow. How do you think they caught mature unicorns?"

The unicorns nicker softly and accept your invitation, pacing closer to nuzzle your hand and try to nip the bag at your waist. You take the time to pat all of them, rubbing between their eyes in the way you know they like.

"Beats me. They're s'posed to be really fast," the readheaded boy chirps. "Look, the tails reach the ground."

"Yeah, some of the strongest hairs there are. And great for magic," Harry continues.

"Like the core of both my wands," Ronald says proudly.

But then his upbeat tone sinks a bit, "What's wrong, Mione?"

Wondering if something happened, you're about to take a look at the Gryffindors, when a rustle of robes is followed by Hermione's swift, though half-stunned answer, "So you can pay attention in class, when it suits you."

Dead silence. You nearly laugh out loud, imagining the look on the boys' faces.

And then they dash to get out of the tight spot.

"Unicorns, Mione. Who wouldn't want to learn about unicorns?" Ronald raves in a tone that implies the brunette has gone mad for even bringing it up.

"C'mon, it can't compare to Potions with Snape," Harry argues next, a bit softer, trying to make an appeal to his friend's logical side. "It really can't."

"Yeah," the ginger adds in, "Or staring at crystal balls, or goblin rebellions and, er, warlock somethings, and the rest from History of Magic."

"You're impossible, the pair of you. Honestly. Every class is important," the brunette retorts, and you notice the very subtle hint of humor lacing her voice. "One day I'll stop lending you my notes, you'll see."

At last you turn around slowly and a small smile breaks free on your lips at once, unseen by any of the students. You just stand there, watching as Hermione is trying hard to manage the simultaneous task of glaring at her friends without letting her smile show. But the boys eventually catch up and they're soon back in good terms, chuckling together. Though her arms remain crossed for a while longer.

You smirk. Talk about friendly banter. That's something you recognize well.

In small steps, you walk back to the clearing and the creatures tag along, still trying to sink their teeth into Katalin's bag. When they see there's extra company, they ignore Hermione and start rowdy complaints addressed at the boys. Katalin's unicorn, in particular, decides to put up a feisty show and flings its head back, threatening to kick the front legs.

Spreading your arms in front of the unicorns, you manage to get their undivided attention and say a loud "Easy" that makes them calm down temporarily, although they snort, swish their tails and ogle the boys very suspiciously. Turning to the Gryffindors, you notice that the two friends have retreated several paces on their own, while Hermione is doing the exact opposite, seeking out the beautiful creatures.

There's nothing more you can do than offer the boys an apologetic look, "Zey did not react very well. You know zey prefer ze company of girls, non?"

"We saw that in class, Fleur. It's alright, really," the black-haired boy smiles, grabs Ronald by the arm and they back away further, until the unicorns become silent again. But the one thing he can't do is completely hide his disappointment. Noticing your stare, Harry becomes a little self-conscious and points out, shortly after, "Hermione's doing okay."

You chance a glance, watching Hermione soothingly pat the unicorns' heads while whispering to them.

Returning your attention to the quiet boys, you try to get them involved, too, "You can still 'elp, if you want. Zey will like to drink water and we need a container for zat. Does 'Agrid 'ave anything we can use?"

Without a blink, the eager boys scurry away to find out while you smile inwardly. They didn't even stop to consider that you could've transfigured a large rock into a nice tank.

Walking to the brunette, you take the small bag from your belt and search inside, picking half a handful of sticky golden lumps with a strong and sweet scent. Hermione takes a few and starts to offer one at a time to each of the hungry steeds.

"That bag is so small," the girl remarks. "Will it be enough to feed them properly?"

"I zink so," you reply. "Zese are enchanted treats, made by fairies. Zey should be satisfied wiz less zan 'alf ze lumps in ze bag."

Her eyebrows jerk up in surprise and she smiles, pleased at the news, "That must be a quite the recipe."

"Fleur," Ronald calls out to you, keeping a proper distance, "we found a couple of large buckets that could work. Harry is emptying them now. What do you think?"

You nod at once, "Bring zem over, please. Zose should do."

Shortly after, Harry and Ronald have returned and the champion takes advantage of his summoning abilities, "Accio buckets!"

The objects zoom at him, easily floating into his grasp. Hermione's grin couldn't stretch wider at her friend's successful spell. Harry hands them over and you set them close to the unicorns, tie the bag to your belt again and reach for your wand with your clean hand. Non-verbally, you conjure a weak jet of water and wash out the syrupy residue on your other hand.

"Was that the spell you used at the First Task? To put out the fire from the dragon?" an observant brunette asks.

"Oui. Your 'ands need cleaning too, non?" you say, letting more water trickle in her direction.

She starts to rub them under the soft spray, but her stare doesn't leave your wand. Guessing where her thoughts have gone, you volunteer, "Would you like to learn zis spell?"

The brunette looks at you and smiles in excitement. You wave your wand again and this time hot air starts to vent from the tip. Carefully, you move your hand over the steady stream until it's dry and soon she's following your example. Entranced by your wand again, she starts to absentmindedly bite her lip.

"Zis one too?" you suggest, smiling at her unrelenting stare.

Her cheeks take on a pink undertone and she nods slowly. You take a look at the unicorns, realizing soon that these spells can be well applied to their needs.

"Zen I zink zis is a good chance for you to learn both. Tonight you will 'ave plenty of chances to practice," you say, squeezing her shoulder in an encouraging way. "Take out your wand when you are ready, 'Ermione."

She checks that her hands are completely dry, unpockets her wand, and then raises an eyebrow at you in an expectant way.

"First, we should fill zese buckets, non?" You stand beside her and move your wand slowly, making sure she can see well, and then repeat the same motion a few times. "Ze incantation for zis one is 'Aguamenti'. Remember to be careful about ze intensity of ze magic. Now it is your turn. Try it out."

Mimicking your demonstration, she rehearses the wand movements a few times until there's nothing left to improve. The brunette finally attempts the complete charm, adding the incantation. A slow drip starts to fall from the tip of the wand and the smile on her face is just... luminous. You chuckle softly.

The unicorns pace closer, showing interest in the leaking liquid. It's proof enough that they are quite thirsty by now, especially after munching on the overly sweet snacks.

"Zat is it. All you 'ave to do now is learn ze way to control ze jet," you say and step back. "Time to practice. Change ze rate of ze flow of water until you master ze spell, 'Ermione. I will see if your friends want to learn it, too."

You leave the brunette attending to the buckets and find the boys sitting on a farther couple of rocks, deeply engrossed in chatter, guessing what the Marauders must have done while they spent their nights running through the grounds. When you're close enough, they notice your presence and stop talking, giving you rather shy looks.

Taking the sudden silence as your cue, you start with a cheery tone, "'Ermione is learning a few spells and practicing wiz ze unicorns. Would you like to try zem as well?"

"Study and practice? No way," Ronald answers awfully fast.

So fast that he only seemed to realize it could be taken as a crude response a few seconds later, and that's when his ears turn a deep red. He glances around, trying to find a way to fix that in a loud voice, "Er, Mione can handle it just fine, right, Mione?"

The girl stays where she is and replies in an unfazed tone, "Sure, Ron. Never you mind. I can help Fleur by myself."

Harry smiles awkwardly and changes the subject, "Uhm, Fleur, is it like that in every Veela village? Do you ride unicorns, too?"

You shake your head a few times, "Non, in my forest zere are no unicorns. Each village adapts to ze creatures in zeir woods. Wild 'orses are our option."

"Oh..." Ronald states in an apathetic voice, giving you a look full of pity. "Regular horses?"

Before you can think of reacting, Harry steps on his friend's foot as stealthily as he can and turns to glare at him. You quirk an eyebrow at the flinching redhead, while he looks at Harry with an expression of unveiled pain.

Whatever he saw on Harry's face makes him stretch a weird smile at you and perform an overdone shrug, raising his palms in front of him, "I'm sure it's the same as riding unicorns."

You clearly hear Hermione's snort at his attempt at pleasantries.

"I disagree, Ronald. You were both right before, for ze most part," you say, pretending not to see Ronald massaging his foot and mouthing an angry 'What' at his friend.

Harry shakes his head in frustration, just as you head back to Hermione's side so the boys can't see your wide grin. Ronald is really something.

"It must be incredible, to ride zrough ze woods on a unicorn. A wild 'orse cannot compare. Unicorns are very fast, as you said, and never get lost. Zis is probably why zey were chosen as zeir mounts. But you made one mistake, 'Arry," you remark loudly enough to keep the boys within hearing range, at the same time you're nodding in approval at the two bucketfuls of fresh water that Hermione is presenting the unicorns. "Zese unicorns were not caught against zeir will. Zey were asked to carry ze Veela."

"Asked?" Harry's voice reaches you. Through the corner of your eye, you see the boys testily coming closer, but still respecting a reasonably large bubble of space around the steeds.

You nod and continue, conversationally, knowing they're all curiously interested, "Oui. Veela protect ze woods and ze creatures zat live zere. When zere is real need and a request is made, it is said zat even ze most untamable creature will come to our aid."

Hermione touches your arm, "Fleur, only the most dangerous beasts are classified as untamable. Even those would answer that call?"

"Oui, even zose. We cannot control zem indefinitely or ask zem to give up zeir freedom and remain wiz us. We explain what needs to be done and zey 'elp. Once ze request is fulfilled, zey return to ze wild. Zat is what will 'appen 'ere as well. Zese are free unicorns. After ze trip back to ze village, zey will go back to zeir 'erd. Zat is, until zey are called upon again. Is it not correct, mighty one?" you reach for the nearest unicorn, rubbing its head lightly.

The unicorn nickers and nods a few times, waiting its turn to drink some more. A loud responding neighing comes from behind Hagrid's cabin. The abraxans must be awake now.

Hermione starts to stroke Katalin's unicorn, combing careful fingers through the long hair on its back, "Their winter coats are really thick, much thicker than on the unicorns we've had in class this week. So fluffy... Have you notice they seem softer than wool?"

"Zey should," you reply with a smile and sink your fingers close to hers. "Unicorns 'ave ze softest 'air among all ze equines, magical and non-magical. I am impressed wiz 'ow long it is, zough. Probably zis cold weather favors so much growth. It feels amazing."

Crouching at the side of the tall creature, you run your hand through the full length of one of its legs, down to the hoof. "Zey crossed a forest covered in snow. Zeir legs are all damp. It gives us a good use for ze uzzer spell. Are you up for it?"

She smiles confidently, gripping her wand, "Sure. I'm ready when you are."

"Great, 'Ermione," you reply, than speak in a louder voice to her friends. "Would you like to try anuzzer spell? Zis one is more complicated. You can find it interesting."

Harry takes the lead before Ronald can risk an answer, "We're okay, Fleur. Ron and I will watch from here."

The ginger nods in agreement and they settle down on a very large rock, closer to the edge of the forest. You were not expecting that. The Aguamenti spell was quite simple, but you thought that a more complex one might make them curious enough to want to participate.

You turn to face Hermione, "Very well, it seems zis is between you and me. Ze Hot-air charm requires a fast and very wavy wand movement. I will do it slowly a few times," you say, starting the same procedure as you'd done before. First a demonstration of how to manoeuvre the wand, which you repeat a very large number of times, trying to make it as easy as you can, and then the incantation.

The brunette concentrates harder for this one, practicing, repeating and correcting it until you have no more input to offer. Once she reaches that point, on her first attempt at the full charm, a column of hot air swiftly shoots from her wand.

"Zat deserves praise, ma belle," you whisper. "You managed very quickly."

"Only because I have the best teacher ever," she returns in the same tone, her pinkish cheeks framing a small smile.

"Come on, now. Zere is much to do," you say, guiding her closer to her first target, the front leg of Katalin's steed. "You need to take care because ze temperature can be too 'igh. Test it on your free 'and to see if ze distance is enough to dry, but not burn. And always stay at ze side of ze unicorn."

"Okay. Are you going away?" she asks.

"Non. I will be right 'ere wiz you. Zere are uzzer zings I want to check to make sure zey are ready for ze ride back. And we can talk, too," you reply. Then you hunker down beside her to reach for the golden hoof on the hind leg and light up the tip of your wand for a good look. Pausing, you glance as she casts the spell slowly, "I forgot to zank you for 'elping me. I 'ope zis is at least a little entertaining to you."

"It's more than that. Everything was surprising. Take a look at Ron and Harry," the brunette points out, overlooking her friends in wonder. "They can't go inside to see Hagrid, they can't come near the unicorns. I know my friends and they should be bored. But no, they're excited, just talking by themselves. This is nice, for a change. Harry was so down after dinner that I couldn't convince him to stay away."

"You all like 'Agrid very much. Ze Veela saw zat. Zey even tried to cheer you a bit, zat is why zey talked to all of you. I was surprised zat Anca shared a little of zeir activities wiz you. I zink tonight was ze first time someone discovered zeir secret existence 'ere, and it did not bother zem," you add. "I cannot complain myself about zeir visit. Zis 'as been much more absorbing zan a class in ze dungeons."

She nods, offering you a sympathetic and rather small smile.

"What about you? 'Ow are you doing after your night of poor sleep?" you ask curiously, while you pull out a small pebble imbedded in the hoof you're cleaning.

"I'm fine. I don't feel as tired as I should... You're probably right. This meeting has kept us all interested. Veela in the Forbidden Forest... Who would've thought? A Seeress, a Healer, a Warrior, unicorns, patrols, the Marauders, even Sirius..." Her stare lingers on you. The brunette straightens up and moves closer, "A few times you were so formal I almost didn't recognize you. There was so much I didn't understand. I guess I really don't know anything about you, do I?"

You glance at the girl and set the hoof down, "I am done 'ere, too. We can trade positions so we always stay side by side, taking care of the same unicorn."

Hermione nods and takes your previous place. You move on to check the other hoof as she performs her spell carefully. In a softer tone, you reply, "You know a little about me, zough it is mostly related to ze 'uman part of my life. I understand your impression for ze uzzer part. Veela are not ze same as wizards. We follow some ancient formalities and it must be a bit strange to witness."

She stops and bites her lip, "Is it something of a secret?"

"We are a bit secretive, of course. Every sentient magical race is. Ze location of ze villages, our numbers, 'ow we survive in ze forests, ze details of our magic, even our traditions, zose are not common knowledge. It was zrough isolation zat we made it over ze centuries. Trust me, 'Ermione, ze enchanted woods are a different realm. Ze life of a Veela 'as little to do wiz ze life of a wizard," you explain, watching as the brunette starts to frown.

"Okay, when it comes to comparing living in the woods with living in a city, you have a good point, Fleur, but it can't all be different between us. We are the same in essence, at the most basic principle, I think. Wizards and Veela have highly organized societies, each with their codes of conduct, their laws and their secrets. Like this one," she says, and lifts her wand to illustrate. "But everything is made possible because of magic, for all of us. We should be brought together by magic, not apart."

You think about her words and slowly nod, "Well put, but ze problem is zat our views on magic are not entirely aligned. Veela 'ave a purpose to find balance, to improve ourselves in order to serve better zose zat depend on us. Little 'as changed since ze first village was founded. We keep ze same caste structure, ze same values, ze same relations wiz beings and beasts, ze same allies and ze same enemies. Our lives are as simple and as complicated as zat. Zere is no ambition for more. Our magic 'as never been used to seek power. We do not consider ourselves superior to uzzer races."

Her reply zooms out briskly, somewhat defensively, "Well, many wizards agree with the Veela's point of view. Only a radical group has beliefs of supremacy like that."

"I know, and although zat group is powerful enough to influence governments, it gives me 'ope zat change can 'appen in ze future. Zere will be a day for union and better understanding. A day when secrets will be shared as a sign of trust and friendship," you say gently.

Her face falls with disappointment, "Until then, does it mean I'm not allowed to ask you anything?"

You chuckle at her reaction and she gives you a questioning look. "Actually, non, zat is not correct. I will clarify your doubts about Veela as best I can."

"Really? That's great, Fleur," her faces relaxes instantly into a cute smile. "I've been trying to find the right way to ask about this since they went into the cabin."

"Oui, I know. It is almost like I can read ze questions in your eyes," you tease her. "But it is fine. Ask away."

And then, there is a smirk, "You do know that speaking like that, you're giving free rein to my curious side, right? You might end up with regrets."

Your eyes narrow a little, "You are correct. I am starting to 'ave second zoughts on zis. Considering it is you, I am sure zere must be a scary number of questions ready after all zat you saw and 'eard tonight."

She huffs in that playful way and you go on, more seriously now, "It should not be too 'ard to explain at zis stage. Even you, 'Ermione Granger, will need to learn ze basics before you start making some of ze complicated questions. Or ze uncomfortable ones."

"Mmmmmmm," the brunette hums suggestively, "thanks for the tip. So there are complicated and uncomfortable questions to make. I'll keep that in mind."

"Non, stop right zere," you cut in while she chuckles at the look on your face. "I was not supplying you wiz ideas, only stating ze obvious."

"See? Regrets already," she deadpans in a satisfied tone.

You roll your eyes at the laughing brunette as she stands up, appreciating the effects of her spellwork on the dry leg in front of her. You both move to the other side of the unicorn. While Hermione gets started, one of them sniffs at Katalin's bag and you serve another round of treats.

After cleaning the sticky remains from your hands, you refill the buckets and Hermione starts, "They are pure-Veela, aren't they?"

"Oui," you reply simply, already holding up the hoof opposing her and lighting up your wand.

"I'd never seen pure-Veela up close like that. They are... erm... uh..." her voice trails off and you notice she's started to bite her lip with might. Nothing coherent finds a way out of those lips.

You let her hesitation last a few heartbeats and then chuckle softly, "It is quite difficult to put into words, non? Veela can be baffling to describe."

Even though she tries to keep it from view, her blush is very noticeable, "Baffling doesn't do them justice... I... I'm sorry, Fleur. Is it awkward that I'm talking to you about someone else like that? Actually, failing to do that?"

One of your eyebrows rises slowly, "Non, of course not. Zat is who zey are. I know 'ow it is for 'umans, to be face to face wiz adult Veela for ze first time. I 'ave seen it before too many times. My muzzer is only 'alf-Veela and it is common for wizards to lose ze ability to speak in 'er presence. Ze beauty of a Veela is something zat anyone living outside ze woods would find wizout equal."

"I can't argue there. Their looks are almost unbelievable." She still bites her lip. "Er, you mentioned that they're adult Veela. Does age matter a lot?"

You nod, watching as the other unicorns move about, making sure they don't go near the boys, "Age 'as an influence. Pure-blooded adults are ze most striking of ze race. Zere are indications of beauty during our younger years, but it only blooms completely in ze grown-ups."

She looks at you as she thinks about that new information, "So you... you are still going to change."

"I might. Perhaps a little... I zink," you reply, with some uncertainty. "Do not forget I am only part-Veela, more 'uman zan Veela, actually."

The wheels are still turning in her head, you can tell, but she sighs and presses forward, "It was at the Quidditch World Cup, this summer, that Harry, Ron and I saw Veela for the first time. There was this large group with the Bulgarian team. But they looked alike. Anca, Hestia and Katalin don't resemble anyone from that group. They can't even be compared to one another."

You smile at that, "It was quite a display tonight, even for me. Zey are from Clans far apart. It must be why zey are so distinct."

"Did you know them?" she goes on as she stands up and walks close to you. Quietly, she pats the unicorn, waiting for you to finish and change places with her.

"Non, not personally. Ze Delacour 'ave strong ties wiz ze Calenica Clan. I 'ave met some of zeir teenagers years ago when zey traveled to our village for an archery trial. I did not know about Anca, zough. Ze Elatia are so secluded zat I zink not even my grandmuzzer 'as been to visit zem. She will be amused to know zat I came across someone from zere. And ze Szárny," you pause and take a deep breath, "well, ze Szárny is ze eldest Clan of ze Veela. We all know a little about zem."

"Mm-hmmm, like what?" the brunette asks and crouches down where you were, as you walk to the last hoof on this unicorn. You notice the boys are now laughing loudly about something to do with quidditch.

"Zey are ze most unique representatives of our race. In ze 'istory of Veela zere were many important Warriors in ze battles to protect ze enchanted forests. Of all ze Clans, none produced as many outstanding names as ze Szárny. It is said zat zey are ze most beautiful Veela in 'uman form. And also ze scariest in our... uzzer morph. Even in ze smallest of zings ze Szárny are unusual and different. Katalin is a good example of zat," you say and take the time to stretch before you continue.

The sudden relaxation helps stir a long yawn and it reminds you of how tired you really are. You blink quickly to clear your eyes from the excessive moisture that rushed there.

Hermione doesn't let the silence linger, "Small things like the color of her hair or that smell of incense?"

"Actually, ze white 'air is extremely rare among Veela, even for 'er Clan. Zat makes Katalin stand out on 'er own," you explain. "But pheromones scented like agarwood, ze natural incense, is one of ze zings zat is quite typical in Veela from 'er Clan. It is considered a relic of ze old blood and 'elps to identify zem."

She turns to look at you, frowning, "She said something about your scent, too."

"Oui. Veela usually smell of flowers. Anything else is unusual. Especially in uzzer Clans," you shrug dismissively.

"What does it mean? Aren't the pheromones in your family like yours?" You can feel her intent stare through the corner of your eye, her activity well forgotten for the time being.

"No one knows for certain what it means. Or if it 'as a meaning at all," you take your lower lip between your teeth for a while, hoping the casual tone hides away your discomfort at the topic at play. Trust Hermione to march straight into your insecurities without knowing it. "My entire family 'as flowery pheromones. I am ze first oddball in zeir midst. It might be because of my mixed genetics. Perhaps my little sister will be like me. We shall 'ave to wait until she grows up and see."

She seems satisfied and soon more hot air is misting in front of a damp leg. It takes little for her to come up with another line of inquiry. "What kind of handshake was that? I mean, it's not even right to call it a handshake, but I can't find a better way to describe it."

This one you were expecting.

You'd be amazed if Hermione didn't ask about it, and you answer while healing a tender spot in the golden hoof, "An adult Veela does not touch another zat is a stranger. We use our 'ands to deliver magic, so ze physical contact between two Veela is charged wiz a lot of zat. Ze sensation is described as too powerful or too intimate."

You pause, thinking you couldn't agree more after zat experience with Anca. "Because of zat, ze touch is a privilege reserved for very close friends, family and lovers. Instead of touching, we introduce ourselves by sensing ze magic of one anuzzer. Each one of us 'as a unique way to manifest magic, an individual signature. No one else is ze same. It cannot be duplicated."

"So only Veela can feel it?" she probes further.

"Oh, non. Anyone who is sensitive enough to magic in general can share ze experience. It is like detecting ze presence of wards," you reply and look at her. "When you cross ze gates of 'Ogwarts, on ze way from 'Ogsmeade, can you feel ze wards? A sensation of 'air standing on end, perhaps? Or goose bumps?"

"I do feel something funny there," she speaks slowly, thinking. "But I never thought it could be a reaction to the wards."

She sets her wand on her knee and claps her hands together, mumbling something that sounds like 'too much loose hair'. The girl finally grips her wand again and watches you set the healed hoof down.

"One unicorn down, two to go. But, before we continue, hold out your hand, 'Ermione. Even I am curious now," you request, already standing up and stretching a hand in her direction. She takes her wand in her left hand and offers you the other one, repeating the gesture she's seen you perform with the Veela. Once again you let a surge of magic build up in your palm and you lower your hand close to hers, not touching it, "Tell me if zere is anything out of ze ordinary."

"My skin... it's prickling," she says in awe. "There's a slight pressure at the center of my palm, like a faint warmth... and then it spreads out in waves, to the tips of my fingers.

You smile at her, "Zat is my Veela magic. You 'ave ze ability to feel it. We can go to ze gates of ze school sometime and practice. I will show you what to do to detect ze wards."

She lifts her palm in front of her eyes and wiggles her fingers as if they were entirely new to her. The brunette is so lost in her thoughts that you choose a fairly creative way to give her a taste of reality: you carefully grip her shoulders and steer her to the next creature. Startled brown orbs finally snap from their trance to look at you and she chuckles when she realizes what you're doing, but doesn't offer resistance as you guide her through the short distance and plant her in front of the next assignment.

As you're moving to the next hoof, a soft soughing wind startles bare branches in a rocking motion and you look at the trees, letting the cold gust bathe your skin. You fill your lungs, absorbing some of that freshness.

This would be perfect, except for a vague stench of rot that you detect at the end of the deep inhalation. There's something about it that makes you take a few more lungfuls to feel it again, but it doesn't repeat itself. You let your eyes wander through the trees, searching. Searching for... you don't know what. Perhaps if you search more you'll have your answer, and so you insist.

"What is it?" Hermione's intrigued question reaches your ears.

"Probably nothing," you answer slowly. "I zought I smelled something unpleasant, but I cannot tell for sure."

You stay a little longer, but your eyes find nothing and the smell has disappeared. Shrugging, you return to your appointed duty.

Even before you get started, another question is already flying at you, "You refer to each other by your given names, but they are more formal with us. Is there a reason for that?"

"It is... protocol," you answer, pleased to notice this hoof is in pristine condition and will take no time to be fully clean. "After two Veela 'ave been introduced, we only use our first names. Zat is ze proper way. But when a Veela meets someone of a different race, zere is a need to get better acquainted before first names are allowed."

The brunette processes that briefly, "You don't trust easily."

Right on target.

You smile at her fast reasoning, "Non, it is an achievement to earn ze trust of a Veela. Something zat comes with time, and only zen ze formalities stop."

Her head bobs up and down a few times, "I see. By merit, then."

"More or less like zat," you agree somewhat. "Trust runs more freely between two Veela, zough it is frail at ze moment of introductions and builds up from zen on."

"Then it is unusual for Veela to be too friendly to someone they've just met?" she asks.

"What do you mean?" you return, standing up and stretching again to ease the tension on your back. No yawn this time.

"That Katalin Warrior," she replies in a sweet voice, patting the unicorn.

Too sweet. You frown and stand behind her.

"There was a moment when she was with us... No, with you, actually. She barely noticed we were there, too... It was odd. The way she treated you was different from the others."

"Oui. She is a Szárny, a special Szárny," you state simply, hefting her up when she's done and exchanging places with her. The hoof in front of you is in even better condition than the previous one. You'll be finished faster this time.

"I fail to see how that explains anything," she grumbles, seriously. You spin to see her deep frown, realizing at last that she's watching you closely and struggling to keep her temper in check.

Her words are a clear demand for more, though you did give her a reasonable explanation. At least one that holds meaning among Veela. After a long sigh, you make your way back to where she is, crouch at her side to help spelling the hair dry, and then offer some extra substance to the argument.

"Je suis désolée. It should serve as an explanation, even if you zink it does not explain much. Ze Szárny are known for being different. I told you zis, hmm? Zeir looks, scent, traditions, everything, zey even fight and 'eal differently from uzzer Veela. Katalin, to say it plainly, is even more unusual zan ze standard Szárny," you say, recalling the inscriptions on her robes. "She probably is a very promising 'eiress in 'er Clan. I suppose zat explains 'er behavior."

"Heiress?" She tips her face towards you, slowly connecting the dots, "Please tell me you mean as in wealth."

You shake your head, "Non. Each Clan 'as zeir riches and treasures, but zat is not what I was talking about. Katalin is a 'eiress, as in royalty. We call zem La Fae, straight descendants of ze first traceable Veela, a bloodline preceding ze registries of our 'istory in parchment. Zey 'ave specific physical traits - ze snow-white 'air, a birthmark in ze shape of a star, ze agarwood scent. All La Fae are Warriors. All from ze Szárny Clan."

"I didn't know there was a standing monarchy among magical beings," the brunette remarks.

You pat the dry limb and motion for you to take the other side of the unicorn, each one of you tending to a different leg again, "Because zere is not. It does not work as a permanent arrangement. I said before, 'Ermione, Veela 'ave no ambition for power. When it is required, in case of extreme danger or war, and only zen, ze appropriate 'eiresses are crowned Queens. Zey serve very specific purposes. La Fae represent Veela in diplomatic negotiations wiz uzzer races and unite ze Clans to lead us into battle. After ze situation is resolved, zey relinquish zeir crowns to become regular Warriors once more."

"It sounds highly unusual," she states. "And why would that explain her behavior?"

"I zink zat one of ze qualities of a good leader should be ze ability to 'andle well new acquaintances, to treat zem politely and earn zeir respect, non?" you speculate. "She would 'ave a tendency to be more attentive to me, since I am Veela, zough she was not impolite to any of you."

She chews on that for a while, conceding at last, "Okay, it makes sense... But then, why was she shocked that you'd recognized her as a heiress? If she is from the right Clan and she doesn't conceal the telltale signs, someone would make the connection, eventually."

This unicorn most definitely has harder, sturdier hooves. The one in your hand is looking great, too. You set it down and use your wand to dry out the leg, getting ahead on readying this creature.

"She was shocked because it is uncommon to find a Veela from anuzzer Clan zat can recognize a La Fae. Ze description of zose signs is not divulged, even among Veela, for zeir protection. I only made ze right guess because I 'ad learned more about zem. As a girl, I was very curious and my grandmuzzer indulged me too much. She spent long 'ours sharing what she learned in 'er exploring trips, and I was an avid listener."

"But Katalin lives in a secret village. She doesn't need protecting," she replies, still not convinced. "She shouldn't need to hide who she is."

"I am only guessing 'ere, but I believe she 'opes zat ze later anyone around 'er finds out, ze better. If she is identified as a 'eiress, someone will forget she is not a Queen, yet, and start treating 'er like one. She would no longer 'ave a chance to be alone or do as she pleases," you say, considering the implications. "For a Warrior used to an independent life, I cannot zink of a worse prospect zan being imprisoned by bureaucracy and procedure."

The brunette follows your explanation carefully, now facing you and oblivious to the limp wand in her hand, "You look concerned. What's on your mind?"

"I was zinking about what zat must 'ave entailed for 'er, to be who she is. It is not something I envy," you admit.

She instantly reasons against your opinion, streaming more hot air on her target, "She's an upstanding figure in your race. Many would disagree with you, wouldn't they?"

"Perhaps you are right. But I consider uzzer zings," your voice sounds tired even to yourself. "She must 'ave 'ad a difficult life. Someone like Katalin was educated from birth about warfare, leadership, diplomacy and who knows what else. And 'er training... I can only imagine 'ow 'ard ze demands must 'ave been on 'er performance."

Hermione doesn't seem to like very much what you're saying and that annoyed frown starts to set in. Again.

She stands, crosses her arms and walks a little away from the unicorn, "I'm done here."

"Now I am ze one zat does not like ze look on your face. What are you zinking, 'Ermione?" you take the turn to ask as you work on the last patch of damp hair, close to the hoof.

She sighs loudly, "People think you're distant, that you put up huge walls to keep everyone away. They're wrong, I know you care. A lot, in fact, sometimes even too much for your own good. You hide it so well that it took me a while to learn how to look past that and really see you. And now it's clear as day for me. You're reaching out to her."

"What?" you ask, not making any sense in her words as you straighten up. You're eye to eye now and you definitely do not like her expression.

"You understand how hard Katalin's life must've been and you feel sympathy for her. I should be touched to see that you are so considerate. But I can't. Not like this. Not with... her. You must think I'm not even making sense anymore," she says, looking down, her voice taking on a harsh edge. "There's something bothering me and I need to get it off my chest, okay?"

You nod quietly.

"Why is that Veela hitting on you?"

You blink.

"'Itting on me?" you whisper as your eyebrows almost shoot out of your forehead.

"Yes, hitting on you," she replies matter-of-factly. "She didn't take her eyes off you the whole time. You wouldn't know, paying attention to the Elder as you were. But Katalin was really into you. She even stayed behind to talk. And that smile..." Hermione growls in a displeased way.

You frown at the large amount of irritation she's finally allowing to radiate around her. "'Er behavior was a little strange, 'Ermione, but it is not as you say. Zat is not possible. It must really be 'er way of being friendly."

The brunette hisses, "How can you think I'm wrong? Did you see anyone else act friendly like her?"

Great. Now you have to defend yourself from something that shouldn't be blamed on you to begin with.

Taking a deep breath, you reply in a cautious tone, "Non, but I 'ave to insist on zis because it is ze simplest way for you to see reason: she is a Szárny. And zey are known to only make ties wiz pure-Veela. As far as I recall, no Szárny ever took an interest in anyone zat was of mixed blood. Some even zink it is a rule in 'er Clan. Ze Szárny 'ave zeir own category of 'different'. Trust me."

This piece of information should be received with an improvement in her mood. A Szárny wouldn't bat her eyelashes twice in your direction, romantically speaking. It's something that just won't happen.

And yet... why do you have a nagging feeling that Katalin was, perhaps, a little, crossing lines?

You shake your head. Enough of this. The thinking abilities of your brain must've hit rock bottom if you're even considering it. Utterly frustrating, that's what all this is.

Hermione remains silent for a while and her forehead unfurrows slowly, "Are you sure?"

"Oui, I told you ze truth," you answer seriously, taking her previous place to analyze the last hoof, which you expect to be easy to process, just as the previous three were. A quick glance is enough to verify it was a safe assumption.

She takes a deep breath and you can feel her relief, ebbing away the worst of her anger, dimming a tempest into a thin breeze. "I suppose I could be wrong. I don't know Veela as well as you do. But I still don't like it. That Katalin can be all the different she wants with any other Veela she wants. Just not you," she states with a finality that you'd never heard before in the brunette, coupled with blushing a fierce pink and frowning and crossing her arms and avoiding your eyes.

You rise again, leaving the second unicorn all set at your back. Tilting your head, you consider Hermione. Is she really this jealous? And of this Katalin Veela?

The girl risks glancing at you and clearly misinterprets your reaction, "Unless you're enjoying it, Fleur?"

That snaps you right back into a defensive stance, "Non, zat is absurd. Of course not."

Her eyes search your face and you can guess what she's looking for right now. "I meant zat, 'Ermione," you offer with a sincere smile, the easiest words you've said all night.

She closes her eyes and sighs, shaking her head, "Okay, let's not make an awful deal out of this. I'm sorry. I've had enough headaches for a day."

You nod and wish this is forgotten soon. "Come on, cheer up. Zere is only ze last unicorn now."

The brunette twirls her wand with a resolute expression. "Then let's do this," she says, and then beckons at the cabin. "Do you think they'll be in there much longer?"

"A bit more," you answer as you go around the tallest and largest of the steeds, stealing a glance at the Gamekeeper's home. "'Agrid missed 'is classes ze entire week. For such an enthusiastic professor, zat is a sign zat 'e needs some considerable 'elp."

Before she takes position, you pass her the bag of treats and Hermione is greeted with interested nickers that make her smile. The brunette pats and strokes the unicorns as she sets them on a new sugar high, earning approving nods from all three creatures. You watch that smile steadily grow, the trusting nature of the steeds calming down her anxiety.

Working by yourself, you change the routine of spells for higher effect, combining cleaning and soft warming charms until you've accomplished in half the time what both of you would have done.

Keeping most of your attention focused on the current activity, you take advantage of her apparently relaxed state, "Can I 'ave a turn to ask questions, too?"

She looks a bit taken by surprise, but nods all the same.

"You and your friends 'ave 'ad very... hmm... interesting years at school. A flying muggle car, escaping a werewolf, anuzzer version of you - whatever zat means, animagi in the family..." she winces at the list and you go on, not waiting for her confirmation. This is a simple description of facts, after all. "'Ermione, ze most my friends and I got to do in school was 'ex a few students zat were rude to us... or getting detention for vanishing ze graded exams from a professor... or spell our own secret passages in ze palace... or... or blast ze Duelling Room apart when we were facing each uzzer. Hmm... Zings like zat."

You blush softly at the confession, but notice that her eyes have gone quite wide at the samples from your series of 'unacademic accomplishments', even though they seem so flat when compared to hers. "'Owever, you and your friends? It appears you 'ave reinvented ze concept of troublemaking. And you are still in fourth-year. Wiz zose records, I cannot 'elp zinking zat you 'ave been up to even more zan zat. Will you tell me about it?"

She bites her lip, considering your request, "Sure. You already know a lot. And the Veela filled you in a few things that'd be awkward to tell you, anyway."

"Ze part of Sirius Black, you mean?" the question had been going round and round in your brain and now pops out smoothly.

She nods, biting her lip again. The brunette rubs the last satisfied unicorn, ties the bag closed and watches your silent progression, from leg to leg.

"I know 'e was announced zrough wizardkind channels to be a mass murderer, but I side wiz ze Veela on zis," you say, undisturbed. "Zey would not defend 'im if 'e was not innocent. And ze fact zat you believe 'im also counts for me."

"We do, Fleur. He's Harry's godfather. Someday you might meet him and you'll get to see for yourself," she replies softly.

"I would like zat," you assure her. If it is important to her, then it is important for you, too. "Zis visit exposed plenty of our little secrets. Perhaps it is better zis way."

"Mm-hmm. It gives us a lot to talk until we're square," she agrees.

You chuckle, "I never zought we would 'ave problems talking, 'Ermione. Zis simply means a more adventurous line of topics."

She smiles. Finally a loose, wide and sincerely happy smile again. "Oh, I know we don't have problems talking. It never crossed my mind."

When you're done, you clean your hands and Hermione's for good, and take the Veela's bag back. You walk in circles around the other unicorns, using a last sequence of spells to remove any traces of clinging mud, dirt, leaves or twigs.

Hermione realizes what you're doing now, "Why didn't you do that from the start?"

You only shrug, "Your spell dried and warmed zem, 'Ermione. I am only covering ze final details."

And then you notice it's silent. Way too silent. Looking around, you quickly ask the brunette, "Where 'ave your friends gone?"

Startled, you look at the path to the castle, back to the trees and start to head for the place they'd been sitting down.

"Look! There they are," Hermione's voice cuts through your thoughts and you walk back to her, trying to understand where she's seen them, "in the shadows, sneaking close to one of Hagrid's windows."

You fix your stare on the darkest side of the cabin, but still, you don't see them. She points in their direction and, alas, there they are, very well concealed in the shadows. You groan in frustration, already spinning to leave, "I will go get zem."

"Do you want me to go with you?" she offers, holding your arm in a light grip.

"Please stay wiz ze unicorns. Zis will not be long, I promise."

There's an adorable pout playing at her lips now and you can't remember how to order your legs to move. It takes all of your restraint not to undo it slowly, in the best possible way. But your eyes skitter to the boys, then back at the girl that makes you swoon, and you know there isn't a chance for that. Still, tempting mental images play havoc inside your skull.

"Fleur, I'm talking to you," a rather loud brunette calls out to you.

Your eyes grow wide. "Je suis désolée. I... hmm... got distracted," you explain, smiling sheepishly.

"Distracted? You blanked out on me, probably didn't hear a single word I said. I wonder where your mind went," she protests, poorly hiding a sly smile as she crosses her arms. "Not that you make it too hard to guess, when your cheeks glow in that color."

Oops. Caught.

You feel your face growing warmer. And now there are more alluring and creative mental images.

You check the boys once more, who are almost molding themselves to the cabin as they strain their eyes to peek through gaps in the shutters. Seizing the chance, you drag her behind one of the unicorns, hold her cheeks carefully, and then steal a long and tender kiss, pulling slowly away when your brain screams for oxygen.

It might be all you can afford right now, but you wouldn't miss this for anything. Your fingers slide down her face and you smile at the feel of her skin, until they reach the line of her jaw and let go. The brunette whimpers at the loss of contact and her deep stare finds you again, shifting between your lips and your eyes. You wink at her.

"You are... crazy," she mumbles.

Smiling shamelessly, you reply in a light-hearted tone, "Sometimes we need a little crazy, non?"

She shakes her head, but that little smile lets you know she agrees with you, "Please get them out of trouble and hurry back, alright?"

You nod, stalking silently after the boys. They're so intent on trying to see anything that they fail to notice your approach.

"And just what," you ask in a heated whisper, making them jump up in surprise instantly, "are you doing 'ere?"

"Geez, we only wanted to watch the Veela," says a very frustrated and very freckled boy.

"Hagrid," Harry corrects him. "We wanted to see Hagrid, Ron."

"Oh, yeah. Sure," the redhead blushes.

Now you understand why Hermione rolls her eyes so much at them. You hook your arms, one around each of the boy's shoulders and steer them back to where they had been sitting before.

"Now, stay and behave yourselves, please. We will 'ave news about 'im soon enough. It should not be much longer. Zere is a limit of time zey can remain away from ze village," you announce.

You vanish the contents of the buckets, and then leave Harry and Ronald to float them back to their rightful place. It is an almost uneventful task, except for the fact that each boy tries to knock down his friend's pail with his own, and a loud string of clanking metal follows their efforts.

And there it is, once more, Hermione rolling her eyes at them, though the way she looks at them afterwards is a resounding statement to the affection she holds for the playful friends. The brunette sits down on the rock they had chosen as their sitting arrangement and waits for their return.

You quietly walk to the pile of items from the Veela and settle down Katalin's bag, close to their cloaks. After a moment of hesitation, your stare locks on the weapons the Sentinel entrusted you. There might be just enough time to accept her offer and you can't deny how much this interests you. There's always plenty that can be said of a Sentinel by checking the quality and care to her weapons.

Frowning, you reach for the full sheaf first. You fish out one of the arrows and start a close observation. It shows a careful fletcher's work, from arrowhead to nock, well built for a powerful longbow. On a whim, you flip and examine the arrowhead closely, smelling it, too. Sharp, snug, not hollow and no definable scents you can detect.

You sink the tip on a mound of snow, pull it back and watch the melting liquid trickle on the metal. Running a couple of fingers over the tip, you rub them against your thumb, smearing the thin coating over your skin to check for residues. Nothing. You take a handful of arrows and quickly search their heads. All turn out similar results. Good news.

Setting down the quiver and leaving all arrows but one, you lift the longbow now, supporting it in both of your hands. As you had suspected, the craftsmanship is superb. Hands down, one of the best you've seen.

The bow is light, despite its size, and made from a strong and pliable stave of yew that must've darkened to its current color over many years. The mottled leather grip looks a bit worn and you glove your hands before fitting your left fingers in a tight clench, noticing how it easily molds to the shape of your hand, yielding under your will. The bowstring is made of interlaced linen threads, attached by dragon horn nocks to the wooden limbs.

Out of blatant curiosity, you pick a distant rock as a virtual target. In a fluid motion, you nock the arrow, raise the longbow in front of you and pull back your right hand until you reach a full draw, keeping the fletchings close to your chin and the rock directly in sight. The flexible arch doesn't make a single sound, even under this strain. And it is a heavier draw than you are used to.

Relaxing your arm and withdrawing the arrow, you check the bowstring again. It looks new and well waxed. This bow was restrung recently, probably within the past week. And you recall that yesterday the other Veela up in the trees with Katalin was stringing her bow, too. It looks like their weapons don't remain stored away, but are always at the ready.

All this just as precautions for scouting? You frown, finding that hard to buy. Perhaps they actually get more use than simple practice.

You draw the arrow again, carefully taking aim. There's hardly any wind and your improved eyesight can pinpoint the far target easily. Your heartbeat starts to picks up speed in anticipation, while a rather crooked smile lifts the right corners of your lips.

A deep breath and you get ready to shoot, when a soft brush against your right arm makes you turn your head, and then remember where you are and that you're not alone. You slowly release the tension and detach the arrow.

"Er... that was a thorough check. So, is it good?" Hermione asks, looking a bit uncertainly at your hands and the Sentinel's possessions.

"You're interrupting her, Mione," Ronald cuts in with a lot more enthusiasm, and you turn to see the boys are sitting down on the rock after the noisy show with the buckets. "Shoot something for us, Fleur. That Veela said you could do it."

Smiling at the ginger boy, you shake your head, and give Hermione your full attention, "Zis is exquisite. It probably 'as been in 'er family for a long time." You remove your right glove and touch the tips of the bow softly, feeling lazy tingles hit your skin, "I can feel ze magic in ze wood, strong and active, preserving it."

"You must've practiced for years to look so comfortable with it. It looks like a work of art, carved and polished neatly. Do you have one, too?" There's no shyness there now. When the spark of curiosity is ignited, the brunette loses a great deal of her inhibitions. You look at the familiar excited glint in her eyes taking over. So her.

"Oui, it is in my trunk. Ze type of wood and design are different, zough, and it is not so long," you explain. "Every Clan 'as its own style and ze best bowyers like to keep zeir special secrets. Making a fine longbow is a very long process. Ze wood is infused in magic for years before it can be carved into ze final shape. Every part of it follows a precise plan, down to ze perfect finish. You are right, it is a work of art, in a way. Someday I can show you mine, if you want to see a different model and zis does not feel too boring or you," you tell her as you run a couple of fingers over the crafted wood, feeling its smoothness.

The brunette keeps track of your hand and you smile, "You can try it, too, if you want."

"I'd like that. I've seen bows before. Muggle longbows in museums, I mean. But I've never handled one," she says, accepting in a beat.

You steal a quick glance at the boys, now engaged in another chat session starring Professor Snape's latest sneers, while you keep your back turned to them.

"It is not so difficult, but you will 'ave to put some effort to pull ze arrow in place. Let me show you." The brunette nods and you're already inviting her closer, offering a stretched hand in her direction.

She takes it and lets you pull her to stand right in front of you. Surrounding her, you guide Hermione through the correct position of her feet, how to hold the bow with her left hand, and then you let her get used to the weight of the artifact. When her arm is steadier, you offer your glove and she slides her other hand into it, "Zis is to protect your fingers."

The brunette closes her fist to get a feeling of the glove, which fits well enough for the experiment. You show her the way to firmly grasp the bowstring and draw it backwards slowly, gauging the resistance of the material. It takes her three tries to get a full draw and you give her time to rest in-between to avoid muscle pain later.

Bringing your face and your left arm right beside hers, simulating her position, you explain how to take aim and make adjustments to compensate for distance, currents of air, rain or snow, and types of arrows. The girl listens closely and, when you give her the instructions to string the arrow, she makes the attempt to pull it in position all the way by herself and release it a few times.

Although it's an exercise that she's never tried, the brunette is persistent, repeating it slowly and not giving up easily as you'd expected. You notice her steady hold on the handle, how she trains the grip of the arrow over and over again, and the way her stare doesn't miss each change in the arch of the wood or the stretch of the cord.

You keep on talking while she practices some more, telling her about famous archers in the woods and their feats. The brunette stays silent as you retell stories you know by heart. Her expression remains calm and focused, more alluring to you than the words slipping from your lips or their meaning.

She looks beautiful and so peaceful, smiling a few times while listening carefully. The weak light around you glimmers on her skin and plays over those bushy strands, that you gently lift and arrange over her shoulders, not missing the faint traces of that soft scent. Somewhere far, far away, you left behind the memories of a troublesome day and a tired mind.

You realize she is here, out in the grounds at night and trying out something entirely new to her, because it has to do with you. A contented smile that she can't see grows at large on your lips. And you're so wrapped in the emotions awakening inside you that it takes some time to realize that the small distance left between you just vanished when she slowly leaned back, resting her head on your collarbone and letting you support a bit of her weight.

"It's alright to stop talking, but you still have to breathe, Fleur. Remember to breathe," she whispers a little later and you can picture the mischievous look on her face.

That sets your lungs straight and working again, as her low chuckle rings in your ears.

"So zis is 'ow you want to do it, Mademoiselle? Perhaps I can 'ave some fun as well," you taunt, removing your left glove, too, to slide both of your bare hands over her waist, tying your fingers together when they meet around her. The jumper of her uniform has a fuzzy texture and you let your thumbs draw small circles, sensing the soft tickling of wool.

Her back becomes stiff against you at once, so you add in a soft voice by her ear, "Zey cannot see zrough my cloak, 'Ermione. Just relax and it will be fine, hmm?" Of course, you could've simply removed your hands, but then again, why would you do that?

She nods and you steer the conversation ahead, feeling a lot better when she starts to loosen up again. You distract her further by correcting her hold on the longbow, "Careful. Ze bow is drooping. Is it feeling 'eavy?"

"I can hold it longer, Fleur. I'm not tired, yet," she replies, but you wonder if she's trying to conceal her weariness.

"You can stop drawing ze arrow, at least. It will make it easier for now," you say, directing her hand to release the pressure on the arrow and finally taking it away from the bowstring. With a glance to assess the right distance, you throw it so it sinks head first in the snow, close to the quiver.

Still keeping a snug contact with her back, you find her limp hand, remove the glove and set it under yours, holding it close to her waistline. It's a bit cold, so you don't waste time to reach out and warm her other hand as well, helping her grip the bow. Tilting your right shoulder, you manage to get your cloak to swirl around in a curve and envelope Hermione also, encasing your bodies together.

"You're so warm. Is it your outfit?" she asks. "What is that? I've never seen anything like it."

"What, zis?" you inquire, tugging the edge of your cloak. "Zis is a scouting uniform, a Veela scouting uniform."

She touches the cloak for a better look, then reaches for your hand and rubs your knuckles a few times, "It's different from what they're wearing. Is that the way they dress at the village?"

"Non. Zey are using ceremonial robes. Zose are meant for special occasions only. Zis, on ze uzzer 'and, is an everyday outfit. It comes in many colors and we can adjust zem for ze seasons. Zis one is reinforced for winter," you explain, showing her the thickness of the cloak.

She nods and turns her attention to the bow again, pinching the fine material of the cord and trying to twirl it between two fingers, "Do you wear it a lot?"

You answer slowly, while demonstrating different ways to grasp the string and test it, "When I go to our village and I 'ave to wander zrough ze woods, zen I do. It is common clothing for us."

She stills her hands and tilts her head sideways, though unable to look at you properly, "I think it looks amazing on you. I mean, you look amazing in anything, but that... I like it. It agrees with you. I guess it shows that different side of who you are, Fleur. Sometimes it's easy to forget that a part of you is not like the rest of us. You look and act so human, I have a hard time reminding myself that there's more to you." She inhales slowly and her voice takes on a hushed tone, "I wish I could turn around right now and kiss you silly."

And there's that goofy smile on your face again. You chuckle softly, knowing she's not only hearing it, but also feeling it resonate through to her. "Merci for ze nice compliments. I did not know what you would zink of zings from zis part of my life. And as for your idea, you can turn around," you say, reinforcing a clear invitation and quickly grazing her temple with your lips. "We are only in ze company of your friends, non?"

"Yes, I know," she replies seriously. "Maybe I'm being too paranoid."

You wait quietly, watching what little you can of the brunette, but she doesn't give away her emotions clearly. Curiosity gets the best of you, "Do you zink zey will not support you?"

"I really can't be sure. We've never talked about this kind of relationship. Actually, relationships in general were never a theme in our conversations... Harry is more down-to-earth. I think he might be supportive. Ron..." she pauses, sighing. "I don't know about Ron."

"You suspect 'e will not be very understanding," you fill the gaps in-between her words.

Slowly, she nods, letting her arm fall in front of her for the first time since she'd raised the longbow.

Guessing she's tired, you take it in your left hand and Hermione crosses her arms, still leaning on your frame. Now that the archery exercise is over, you won't be able to stay so close without drawing unwanted attention from the boys.

You embrace her one last time, rubbing her left arm. "Zis may not be ze right time, zen. But zey are your friends, ma belle, and zis," you say, emphasizing your words with a light squeeze, keeping her closer just a little longer, "is a part of who you are. 'Iding it from zem will not work for long. Friends can see zings zat are not so obvious to anyone else."

She stirs slowly, spinning around to face you and wrap her hands on your waist, "Did... your friends...?"

"Oui. Only one," you say, nodding. "For now."

"I see. What exactly did you tell her?" the brunette asks with a new tint of pink spreading on her cheeks.

"Zere was not a chance to talk, but I will," you reply softly. "She only said zat she 'ad noticed."

"And do you think she's okay with it?"

You catch the uncertainty creeping in her voice. If you're reading this right, the problem is how others will judge a relationship between you. Perhaps it has to do with being the younger one, or your champion label.

"Wiz you and me being together? Of course I do," you reply calmly, hoping some of your confidence rubs on her. You smile and stroke under her chin until she looks better.

And then, you take a risk in an attempt to shift her mood, "Although I did 'ave to endure a good deal of teasing because you are English."

At least with her you're allowed to play a little around that particular landmine, right?

You hold your breath, waiting for her reaction, and then Hermione slaps your hand away playfully, "Oh, really?"

Yup, right. A few scraping noises come from the cabin, and it seems chairs are being moved.

Relieved and chuckling, you step back and seek out the quiver to set all the arrows orderly inside. The brunette stays at your side. "Do not worry too much, 'Ermione. She was more excited zan anything else. And also a bit disappointed zat I 'ad not told 'er, yet. Zat is why I am saying all zis, so you can zink about it before your friends find out by zemselves. It will be best to plan ahead what to say zan to be caught by surprise, non?"

She nods, "Thanks. I'll have to figure it out."

All heads turn around when you hear Hagrid's door swinging open and you stroll together to the spot close to the trail of torches. The boys soon join you, and then the Veela quietly step out, closing the door behind them. Sadly, there's no sign of the half-giant.

The Triad stops midway in the trail outside the cabin and remains in conference. From your position, you have a view of Anca and Katalin's profiles, while Hestia is directly facing you. It's enough for you to follow their interactions.

The younger two speak in turns, clearly arguing with each other and defending their opposing positions to the Elder. You notice Hestia is less vocal and pauses on occasion to oddly massage her face, which plays well to Katalin's outspoken approach. Anca is calmer and more patient, listening and choosing her words slowly, sometimes gesturing in the direction of the cabin, and at other times glancing at your small group.

A soft breeze helps the Veela's voices carry enough that you pick up broken parts of the conversation, though they're too jumbled to make any sense. With your curiosity positively stirred, you make an effort to listen in.

Especially since whatever the Elder is saying just made Hestia nearly gape and twisted Katalin's features into an intrigued frown. The Sentinel looks at your group and soon finds your stare. Her frown creases further. And then she turns back to argue directly with Anca, shaking her head.

Unfortunately, Ronald chooses that very moment to start idle chatting. "That Healer is too quiet. I don't see her smile like the others, either. She only smiled at Fleur."

You try to block out his voice and focus on the Veela, but then Harry joins in, "Yeah, Hestia is more collected."

"She looks anxious, to me," the redhead continues.

His friend stays right on track, "Maybe she isn't used to leaving the woods."

Unable to hear the Veela anymore now, you stay silent and ignore the students, keeping your stare locked on them. Whatever is going on, it seems to be important.

"Are they speaking Veelish?" Ronald asks.

You turn in surprise to frown at the boy. That does it for you. "Zere is no such zing as zat, Ronald. 'Veelish' is nonsense made up by a wizard who wrote a very unreliable book on Veela. Zey are speaking ze language of ze Ancients, ze primary beings to live in ze enchanted woods. Now we all use it, fairies, centaurs, nymphs, forest-elves, not only Veela. Goblins maintain strict trade agreements wiz us, so zey are familiar wiz it, too."

"That's all new to me." Hermione looks taken aback for a while, and then she frowns, "Aren't fairies incapable of speech?"

"Non, zat is a wrong belief. Wizards do not usually learn uzzer magical languages, not even Gobbledegook to speak to zose zat take care of zeir banking and currency needs. Most do not even know ze old language exists, so zey cannot recognize it. And ze unique zing about fairies is zat zey speak very fast and only in Torrevean," you tilt your head at the Veela, making known the name of that language, "so wizards assume zey are 'umming, not talking. It became a widespread notion zat ze small creatures could not use communicate wiz uzzer races."

You're still talking to the trio when the Veela approach again. The pressure on your charms starts to build and you set your measures to counter that. They listen to the last of your words quietly, until you spin in their direction when you're done.

Hestia is awkwardly moving her jaw now. Anca notices all of you watching the display in amusement and she pats the Healer's shoulder kindly, "Please, don't concern yourselves over Hestia. She is one of our latest arrivals at the village. There wasn't an opportunity to acquaint her with a few details, such as the particulars of Hagrid's cooking. The boar casserole was delightful. But his, ah, rock cake, was it?" she glances at Katalin for confirmation, which the Sentinel promptly gives while striving to hold her quirking lips in a thin, neutral line. "Yes. Well, her first taste of one of his rock cakes was... Oh, how should I say it?"

"Unforgettable," Hestia murmurs, glancing back at Hagrid's door. And the more quiet Veela, in a rare moment of fluent curiosity, turns to the young Gryffindors and asks, "Is that how British wizards usually-"

"No!" the three students quickly answer almost in unison, startling the Healer into a stunned expression.

In a calmer way, Harry grins at Hestia and tries to explain, "That's Hagrid. Only Hagrid. I don't know much about wizards and cooking, but Hagrid is, erm, a unique type of cook."

Anca and Katalin share a smile, while the Healer finally starts to relax, attempting a small smile, too.

Taking advantage of the small interval, you step forward to offer Katalin her things and add, "I left ze bag next to your cloaks."

"Thank you." Katalin takes the bow and carefully looks at the quiver, checking the number of arrows left. As the one in charge of guarding the Triad, this is much needed piece of information, just in case there's danger on the way back. The type of danger that may require something other than magic to be thwarted.

The Sentinel arranges the sheaf at her back, swinging it over her left shoulder, before talking to you, "Not even one, Fleur? We carry more with us. It wouldn't be a waste. What stopped you?"

You tilt your head, "I said you did not know me." After all, there's no reason to tell her how close you were to shooting at least one arrow before Hermione showed up.

Her stare burns into you, and Katalin rubs her chin thoughtfully, sizing you up.

In an insightful move, Hermione rips through the awkward silence and sets the conversation on the right course, "So, uhm, what can you tell us about Hagrid?"

"Yes, Hagrid," Anca starts. "He is under a great deal of distress. It is a delicate situation. He told us of these past weeks, the time since we last saw him. The events that started after the Yule Ball shook his self-confidence. It seems he regards as relevant the social opinion on his mixed blood."

Harry takes a look at each Veela before settling on Anca, "But is he alright?"

"He has seen better days, Mr. Potter," the Elder replies. "Hagrid is a great man with the heart of a child. He is not too different from the teenager that one day walked into our village, when he was a student here. Even then, handling slander was not one of his strengths. He told us you know what happened to him. It cost him his wand. Now, he fears this will cost him his job."

"But we know the truth," he replies in earnest, raising his voice. "He was innocent. Hagrid is not the monster this… this woman," the word drops from his mouth as something rancid and vile, "wrote him to be."

Anca nods and smiles sadly, "We are aware of that, Mr. Potter. Hagrid's innocence was never in question to us. And he certainly is not a monster. The newspaper article was outrageous."

Hestia looks gravely at the younger students, "Can this reporter give him more trouble?"

"We don't know," the ginger responds quickly, shrugging.

"The woman is unpredictable," Hermione complements at a calmer pace. "She's been writing all sorts of nasty stuff since the Triwizard Tournament began. If she finds a better target, she'll move away from Hagrid instantly."

Katalin glances at the cabin, "He's pretty much isolated in his home now. I doubt she'll have more to say about him for a while."

"Won't he see us?" Harry starts again, in a pleading tone. "We really want to talk to him."

Anca's voice becomes even softer as she looks at the worried boy, "Tonight is too soon for Hagrid, Mr. Potter. Give him more time. I also suggest your attempts to talk to him do not cease. He has been a loner most of his life. It is in moments such as this that he needs to feel his friends closer than ever."

Hermione squeezes Harrys's hand in encouragement, and then turns to Anca, "Are you going to help him, too?"

"For as long as he needs us, Miss Granger. Hagrid is our friend as well," the Elder declares, smiling pleasantly. "He is particularly defying to us, I admit. Hagrid does not accept too much sympathy, as he mistakes it for pity. We cannot establish a proper empathy bond because his giant blood repels it. The most effective approach for him appears to be a combination of potions, support and counseling. Unfortunately, it's the one that takes longer to achieve results."

"How long? He's missed classes since Monday. There are rumors going on, from people that want him sacked. He has to come back soon," the anguish in Harry's voice is undeniable. It makes your heart clench for the boy.

"Well, there was some progress, already," Anca replies soothingly. "An honest conversation always unburdens the soul. Hagrid also allowed Hestia to pour him a sample of her special brew. It will help with his emotional stability. He required a very high dose to experience any effects, but it calmed him well into a deep sleep. We believe he will show marked improvement in a week. And with a few more visits, Hagrid should be back to his regular self."

"There'll be more visits?" Ronald asks hopefully.

"Yes, we will return to see Hagrid other times," Anca reassures him, and then turns to Harry. "I would be delighted to share memories of your father and his friends in our next meeting, Mr. Potter. Hagrid will likely enjoy your presence, as well as hearing those stories."

The smile on Harry's face couldn't be brighter, "I'd like that."

Ron elbows him squarely in the ribs.

"Ouch," the champion whimpers. "Er, can I bring my friends?"

"By all means, but let's keep this only between us. Our no-interference policy has been sufficiently damaged to last our stay at Hogwarts, I think," she answers with a smile that extends to all the Gryffindors. "We will contact Albus to inform him of each visit."

Hestia speaks in a low and respectful tone, "It is a pity that the Headmaster was busy tonight. Our report on Hagrid's status will be sent to him by post. Maybe in a future visit he will be able to meet us."

Anca nods quietly. With a deep sigh, she straightens up in a very solemn posture and her stare seeks you out, "Our meeting is reaching an end. But we cannot leave without thanking you, Fleur, in our own way. Your actions brought us here, to care for a dear friend. He was very pleased to receive our visit."

You start to shake your head, but she raises a hand and you can only remain still and give in.

"It has come to our attention your current transition. One last change to turn you into the adult you will be," she observes.

"So it is," you confirm.

"This is not a time for you to be alone, far from your family, far from other Veela. You want answers, you will need assistance," she knows what she's saying. Her words come out as conclusive statements, not questions. "We are the closest to you with the ability to provide that. And we owe you a debt of gratitude. I hope what we have to offer will be to your liking."

A surge of interest keeps your attention glued to the Elder. This is more than you could've hoped for.

"Unfortunately, we cannot spare a companion to see you daily. That would be the best alternative," she says in a disheartened tone. "Nevertheless, you can send for us at the village. Hestia and Katalin volunteered to pay you a visit whenever you make a request. And every time we travel to visit Hagrid, I have asked Katalin to spend those meetings with you, instead, since you seem to get along nicely. She has accepted, of course, provided you agree as well."

And that's when your gut jolts painfully.

You chew your lip while you plan out what to say. To decline such a generous offer made by an Elder and concerning Katalin, of all Veela, would be preposterous. On the other hand, you can imagine the state of Hermione's mood and how this will inflate the Veela's ego if you agree.

You lock stares with Katalin. Might as well be locking horns. A clash of something... maybe wills, minds, perhaps opposing natures or temperaments... just something, slowly undermines your previously good mood. And then that small smirk is dangling in front of you. Definitely, she rubs you the wrong way.

Closing your eyes, you breathe a few times. Slowly. Feeling the flow of air first fill, and then leave your body.

There's no way out of this without being the rude one, so it's time to face the music. Steeling yourself, you open your eyes again and pump out flatly, "Non. I zank you for ze very kind offer, but I can 'andle by myself until I return 'ome. It will only be a few months, and zen my family can 'elp me."

That smile, small as it is, quickly withers away, giving place to an expression of open disbelief, tinted by cold hurt. Hestia spares you a glance that lasts less than a blink and seems more concerned about the discomfort of her patrol partner. Anca, however, looks decidedly thrown off by your words and you almost flinch under her analytical gaze.

Almost. This isn't a good moment to send mixed messages about your decision, so you stay impassive and quiet, as cold and detached as you can. And you wait for the slowly stewing reaction that's about to come.

Anca is the one to recover faster and she starts to argue, "Fleur, please reconsider. There will be consequences if you lose control over your charms."

"It will not 'appen, Anca," you reply firmly.

"But it might, Fleur. Can't you see the risks?" Katalin jumps in.

You only shake your head.

"There is much at stake. You did a good job with your charms at the village, but we are unsure if that was a strike of luck or your natural restraints," the Elder explains. "Emotional balance is a very complex task in your condition. You attend a school of human students. They can fall under the effects of unrestrained charms. An event of those proportions may damage the relations between wizards and Veela. The very agreement to our existence in the Forbidden Forest could be revoked for that reason. It cannot be allowed to happen, child. And your charms, in particular, seem to be very strong. My companions tell me they have developed considerably since Monday."

"I apologize for insisting. I answer to my muzzer or, in 'er absence, to uzzer Veela from ze Delacour Clan. You are very recent acquaintances and I cannot agree to zis proposition," you reply slowly. "'Agrid needs 'elp and all you can do for 'im is welcome, but I neither ask nor want anything for myself. Zis would only distract you from your affairs."

Anca intervenes again, "Fleur, don't be hasty in making your decision. Katalin means only to help."

The Sentinel adds with a sad smile, "This is a mistake, Fleur, a very naive mistake. The unexpected happens. Anything that affects you enough will set off an emotional outburst. You're underestimating life."

"I 'ave been making progress on my own," you say to her. "I sincerely ask you to trust me enough to know what I am doing."

Anca tries to speak again, but Katalin touches her shoulder and shakes her head at her, "Fleur has made her choice known. More arguments would only challenge her will."

The Sentinel then looks at you, "These meetings are necessary. We'll be crossing the woods to be here for Hagrid, anyway. I don't deny my interest in talking to someone with a different perspective on things. You are intriguing. The offer stands. Please think about it at a later moment. We will see you again."

Your eyes narrow at her words, but you incline your head as she does the same to you.

"We should prepare to leave," Katalin says, pointedly looking at Hestia. "It'll be a dark night in the woods."

The conversation leaves unsettling aftereffects and you sigh. Hermione will have more to say on this, you're sure.

They walk to the unicorns and Anca picks up the travel cloak to wrap around her shoulders. Katalin and Hestia take off their belts and start to rummage through what can only be concealed pouches in them, soon pulling out a few things from their search. A complex bit of magic later, Katalin is changed in her full Warrior outfit, while Hestia sports a black scouting uniform. They shrink their ceremonial robes and carefully place those in the belts.

Your edgy thoughts drift to your previous topic of conversation and a spark of realization lights up somewhere in your brain. Anca. You turn to look at the Elder. Of course, how could you've missed this entirely? Katalin didn't know about Hermione and you, that's why her behavior towards you was so forward all night, right in front of the brunette. But Anca is a completely different scenario. She knows about Hermione. After her initial interaction with you, Anca has to know.

So as Hestia and Katalin fix their boots and tie up bracers over their forearms, you slowly stride to the Elder.

"Yes, child?" she asks calmly.

"Anca, you know why I turned her down," you say, not filtering an apologetic tone from your voice.

She is overlooking as Katalin straps the sword at her waist, and then sets cloak and quiver over her shoulders. "Do I, Fleur?"

"Oui, you do. You really do," you reply with emphasis. "Please, make 'er understand."

Anca's stare digs into yours, and then shifts to the spot where the students remained, quietly wrapping her thoughts over what you're implying. She tilts her head, "You should tell her yourself. It would be better that way. You know that, don't you?"

"Not now, I cannot," your voice is no more than a whisper. You quickly glance at the Gryffindors, making sure they are still out of range.

She nods, patiently, "If you say so."

Hestia restores her shrunken set of bow and sheaf to regular dimensions and Katalin helps her set the final details in order.

"I 'ave personal reasons involved, but I still do not wish for problems," you reason.

Anca smiles at you, "She is not like that, Fleur. There is more to Katalin than you think."

Your eyes find the Sentinel at Hestia's side, "I know."

"No, I believe you don't," she answers with a slow shake of her head.

Katalin and Hestia, finally ready, approach you, too. Their curious stares barely check Anca and quickly return to you.

"I just remembered I wanted to warn you. When you were in ze cabin, I sensed an unpleasant stench in ze forest," you tell them.

Anca's features become serious and she inquires in a new stern tone, "Did you recognize it? Can you tell what it was?"

"Non, Anca. It was very faint and reminded me of something rotting. I only felt it once, and zen zere was no more 'int of it in ze wind," you explain.

From the look on their faces, they don't underestimate anything within the woods.

Katalin's calm demeanor changes into a more concerned version, "Do you remember where it came from?"

"Zere," you say, pointing in the correct direction, "ze wind brought it from zere."

Anca turns to Katalin, "What do you think?"

"I asked all patrolling teams to be especially careful around this area during the day. The reports were clear. Nothing strange was seen," the Sentinel states.

She glances at you, "We talked to the last team on our way here. This scent can only mean something new. It had to happen after sundown."

"But nothing could rot in such little time, particularly in these low temperatures," Hestia argues somberly. "I didn't feel anything when we arrived. I'm still not picking up any scents now."

Katalin nods and addresses the Elder, "You know what that means, Anca. Whatever the source, it's moving or being moved through the woods."

The Elder sighs, "We cannot stay, Katalin. The village needs us back."

"You know I will follow, Anca. I will always follow your lead. The decision is yours," Katalin replies quietly. "Hestia and I never found a threat this side of the wards that couldn't be parried. But we're not alone this time. Your safety has to be considered, too."

"I am ready to accept the odds. Duty should always be a priority. Our duty is to go home," Anca replies. Her voice then becomes a little less constricted, "Don't forget we ride unicorns. There's nothing faster in this forest."

"Very well, you have reached a decision. Home it is. We are taking over from here, Anca. You will ride in the middle." Katalin allows no room for argument as she arches an eyebrow, "Hestia?"

"I'll take the rear, Katalin," is the swift answer, as the Healer falls in sync with her partner.

"Keep your senses on alert," Katalin directs.

Anca strolls to the students and you all follow suit.

The Elder looks at each of the students with a warm expression and nods at them, "This was a long stay, much longer than we had planned. The village awaits our return. Be cheerful, for your friend will be better faster than you expect. It was a true pleasure to meet all of you. We wish you a good night. And it is our hope to see you again soon."

Hestia and Katalin bow at either of her sides and the students repeat the gesture, expressing their gratitude for the visit and saying their good nights as well.

The unicorns realize there's finally going to be some action and pace closer. The Veela approach you and each one takes turns holding your hands silently. At last, they head to their mounts, settle on their backs and pull the hoods over their heads.

Anca addresses you all, "May your homes be warm."

"And your ride be safe," you offer. "Please, send word to let us know you arrived well."

"We will," Katalin replies with a broad smile and a last wink your way, as her unicorn paws anxiously, all too eager to spring through the trees.

A last wave of their hands in farewell and their mounts trot into the forest at an impressive speed. In little time, they are far enough that you can't hear the soft pounding of hooves anymore.

You remove your gloves, grip your wand and start to put out the trail of torches, while Hermione takes cares of the bluebell flames.

"We should turn in for ze night," you say when there's no sign left of even the smallest spark.

It becomes very clear how dark it is now and you all keep the tip of your wands alight.

"I will accompany you to ze courtyard," you tell them, already marching to the castle.

You all walk side by side at first, but the path is uneven and narrows down at times, so you soon split in pairs. The boys take the lead, brandishing their wands around to cast funny shadows, while starting to recite what they call 'the Veela's best moments'. It would be amusing to hear, you're sure, but Hermione strides closer to you and the thought leaves your mind.

The brunette doesn't waste time to pick up where you think she would, "Why did it take you that long to tell Katalin off? You hesitated, Fleur."

There's no getting out of that one. "Oui, I did," you confirm.

Her tone reflects her dissatisfaction, "Why? If you're having second th-"

"I am not," you assure her quickly. "Please, do not go zere. I did not want to accept 'er offer, but I did stop for some 'ard zinking. Zey do not know about you and me, so in zeir minds I turned Katalin down because I did not want 'er company. It was considered... rude. Very rude."

"Why would it be rude? You were polite. And you're allowed to choose who spends time with you," she says, frowning. "Right?"

You think about that, sighing, "Hmmm... Oui, I am, normally. But Katalin is not simply like any uzzer option to consider for company. Saying 'no' to 'er like zat can start an incident between our Clans. I will write to my muzzer and explain everything. Perhaps she 'as some advice on zis. "

Her frown becomes more pronounced, "She still left with a smirk."

"I noticed." Obviously. How could anyone not notice that? You recall Katalin's expression, "She took it as a challenge."

"But there's nothing she can do about it," she says, and you see that look that tells her brain is hard at work. "Unless... Can she force you to meet her?"

"Non, of course not. She 'as no power over me," you remark categorically.

Hermione remains silent for some time, walking and glancing at you. She finally asks in concern, "What is it, Fleur? You keep looking back."

You hadn't even realized you were staring over your shoulder every once in a while. At her tone, Harry and Ronald turn to listen in. The path just became wider now that the bridge comes into view, so the boys stroll at her friend's side again.

"I am worried," you reply.

"They know the woods, don't they?" Harry's tone makes the question sound rhetorical.

"Oui, zey must know zis forest well," you state. "But if zey were worried, zen so am I. Zere are few zings in ze woods zat are dangerous enough to worry a Veela. And I do not like any of zem."

Ronald suddenly stops walking and his eyes turn wide as saucers as he grabs Harry's sleeve, "Do you think..."

Everyone stops to look at him. The redhead gulps before continuing in a horrified whisper, "Acromantulas?"

You look at him in absolute surprise, "Acromantulas? Zere are Acromantulas in ze Forbidden Forest?"

Harry nods at you, trying to haul his friend back into walking.

"Are you sure? 'Ere?" you ask, unable to believe him. "'Ow do you know zat?"

"We went after them in our second year. There's a huge colony of them, in the forest," he replies.

"You were zere, too?" you ask Hermione.

The champion clarifies, "No, Mione was petrified by the basilisk."

"You were petrified?" you turn to Hermione in a rush of anxiety and the girl winces at your tone. And then your brain hits a wall. "But basilisks do not petrify. Zey are fatal."

"Mione is a genius, a total genius. She figured out it was a basilisk attacking the school," Ronald finds his voice again. "So instead of looking straight at it, she used a mirror."

"Oh," is all you manage to say, your eyebrows still out of their usual place. Okay, the brunette will have a lot of sharing to do later.

This is definitely going to be an interesting weekend.

Hermione reaches for your arm, "Do you think it could be the Acromantulas?"

"It might be," you answer without a drop of conviction. Acromantulas like their prey to be fresh. Anything already rotting is way out of their preferred menu.

You continue in silence now, each one engaged in their own private thoughts. When you're closing in on the castle, you spot your friends straight ahead and walking in the opposite direction, back to the carriage. They're all seniors and allowed to stay late. Considering the hour, you hope Harry brought his special cloak to help them get safely back to their Common Room.

"Zose are my companions, ahead," you speak to your small group and they look up, noticing the approaching gang.

The Gryffindors seem to become quite self-conscious under the curious stares of the seventh-year girls, but they make the effort to look friendly. Alix gives you a pointed look and an ill-concealed smirk.

You roll your eyes and say your farewells to the younger students. At least now you'll have company to return. Still, your eyes follow the trio while your friends wait patiently, giggling about something you're oblivious about.

They reach the first courtyard uneventfully. In a moment the Gryffindors are there, in the next they can't be seen anymore. It looks like they did have the cloak with them. You smile and turn to leave.

"Ah! You're finally with us now," Alix says in mock complaint at your side.

"I only wanted to make sure they arrived well," you reply, not taking the bait.

"Mmmm," she hums, far less interested now. And then she looks at you slowly, from boots to cloak, "Haven't seen you wearing that in a while. Jungle wear, uhm? Trying to impress someone?"

"Hilarious, Alix," you reply with the right dose of sarcasm to make her chuckle. "At least I'm warm."

"That was a low blow," she grouses, bumping into your shoulder, while you enjoy some chuckling now.

Reva, a shorter and lean brunette right in front of Alix heard you too, "Don't remind me, Fleur. My wand will be casting warming charms by itself before the end of the month."

A few approving groans around you say it all.

"What were you doing with those kids, anyway?" Reva asks.

"I met them outside Professor 'Agrid's cabin," you explain. "They were going back to the castle and I offered to keep them company."

"It was the Potter boy, wasn't it?" Félicie's voice comes from behind you and you almost turn around in surprise.

When did they change places? You're now pretty much surrounded by the group of girls.

"And his two friends," you add slowly, agreeing with caution.

"Oh, so that was Miss Granger?" Reva innocently reveals the question that you can guess is on everyone's minds.

You stop in your tracks and narrow your eyes, glaring around. The subject is dropped on the spot and Alix pulls you by the arm to resume walking. Good. At least your friends are sensible enough not to start round two.

The tight pack around you disbands and changes positions again, now that you're no longer the best source of entertainment. You nearly roll your eyes at them all.

"What about you, Cora?" Alix changes the subject. "We all missed out on that last bit of supervision Yvonne was unleashing on you tonight. How was that?"

Everyone chuckles and the black-haired girl snorts playfully, "Annoying, self-centered, temperamental, petulant, obnoxious, exasperating, pompous, ludicrous, nerve-grinding, arrogant, bothersome, infuriating, uhm, among other things. Is that enough or do you want me to continue? I can go on."

"I didn't know your vocabulary included so many long words," Félicie teases, and muffled giggling sprouts here and there. "English girls have that effect on you now?"

"No more jokes about the English," Cora says dramatically, throwing her hands up. Bursts of laughter erupt from everyone and the girl herself joins in. "Yes, yes, laugh while you can. But one more of those jokes and there'll be serious hexing going on."

The carriage comes into sight and your eyes once again make it to Hagrid's home, taking in the clearing in front of it. The girls fall back into easy chatting and light-hearted chuckles. You sneak a glance at Cora, and catch her looking at the castle with a serious expression.

You have a growing temptation to strike up a conversation about her worried look, which is temporarily forgotten when Reva trips on a stone and sends her books flying all over the place. She would have landed painfully on her knees if Félicie didn't catch her in time.

Quietly, everyone pitches in to summon and clean up her books, all of you knowing her well enough not to trust them back to their owner. Alix helps steady her too and the two taller girls walk the rest of the way to the carriage flanking their petite accident-prone friend.

"Not even one good thing about her? That's so not you," you say, walking by Cora's side now.

"There was just the one," she retorts. "Yvonne shook those Krum maniacs off your back. But then, next thing you know, she goes and ruins your potion."

"Huh..." you spin around to look her in the eyes. "I'm sorry for bursting your bubble, Cora, but Yvonne didn't ruin the potion. I did."

"You? Ha, no way, Fleur," her gray eyes almost shut as she chuckles with might. "I know how you work. We've prepared potions together lots of times. My disagreement with Yvonne started with that infamous joke. But after the class, the potion thing was all it was really about."

She gives you an odd look, "And what's this you're doing? Come on, now. She was nice to you and all, but I'm your friend. You don't have to take the blame for her."

"No, Cora, you really got it wrong," you say slowly, trying to make her understand. "That disaster was my fault."

She watches your face carefully for any traces of a smile, still certain you're kidding. When she sees none, her eyebrows start to disappear under her bangs. "For real?"

"I never knew you trusted me so much in potions. What a disappointment I must be to you now, hmm?" you reply, feeling terrible.

She holds your arm and stops you from walking further, "What happened?"

Your head hangs down and you sigh, "I left my lunch on the table, and then I asked Yvonne to put the last ingredient in the cauldron. It's not too hard to work out the logistics."

"Oh, no. This has to be a bad joke." Cora groans loudly, her eyes still wide in dread, "So now I owe her an apology?"

"I think so," you answer in a feeble voice. "If you care to be on good terms with her, that is."

"No, no, no, no. This can't be. After all I said to her, I'll have to go on my knees from the Potions classroom to the Ravenclaw Tower to get her to forgive me," she says. "If she ever forgives me."

You wince.

"And here I was, expecting her to apologize to me," she continues absentmindedly, probably speaking to herself.

The group has reached the carriage and Reva works on the wards. The girls slowly file in.

Before you have a chance to do the same, Cora rounds up on you, "Can you guess what I want to say to you right now?"

You raise your hands defensively in front of you, "No supervision, please. Save that for Yvonne."

Her angry face finally breaks out in a small grin and she laughs a little, "I sure will."

She shakes her head as you both step into the warmth of the familiar environment. "My, my, how am I ever going to make this right? Fleur, you're awful."

"But I'm still a decent friend," you offer with an innocent look, taking your cloak off. "If there's anything I can do, just tell me and I will help."

The girls are quickly taking over the place, laying down books, sitting down and rubbing their hands close to the fireplace.

"You bet I will. You'll have to make it up to me," she replies with an evil smile, already striding away and waving good-byes all over.

You seek out Alix, warning her you'll probably sleep through the morning and not to expect to see you out of your room before lunch time. Though she has permission to bring down the door if you don't make an appearance by then.

Swiftly, you wish everyone a good night and walk to your room. As soon as the door is closed, your brain goes on autopilot.

You barely register setting your wand down, clothes flying all over the place, hugging a scarlet-and-gold scarf tightly, and then somehow flumping on the bed.

---

TBC