Damnable Butterflies
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I make no profit.
An: Now I know everyone's anxious to get some Fleurmione action, but with Voldemort dead and gone in this story, drama has to come from somewhere and honestly I believe that if Hermione's world wasn't thrown off kilter in some way then her reaction toward Fleur and what she represents wouldn't be positive. Hermione's world has imploded around her and everything that was routine and familiar has devolved into chaos, so when Fleur comes along, it's just one more thing she has to deal with. But that's not necessarily a bad thing. Fleur's presence might just be seen as a breath of fresh air, a bright spot in her gloomy world.
But that's only if Hermione accepts the Veela girl. Will she? Read, Review and Enjoy.
Hermione sighed as she sat down to breakfast next to Harry and Ginny. October was almost over and Ron was still being a git, though Hermione sometimes caught him looking over toward their group like he wished he could join. She didn't pity him because he could join them, if only he got over his stupid prejudices and apologized for his actions.
Hermione thought it funny, Draco Malfoy and his mother had enough character to apologize for their behavior, granted her blood status and family name probably made them comfortable enough to do it. She wasn't delusional as to think that they turned a new leaf all because of her, but she had spent some time talking with Draco, and she had met with Narcissa or Ms. Black as Hermione called her to her face, once in Hogsmead, both Harry and Snape had been there to discretely supervise.
She had found that particularly hilarious though Harry was obvious about his presence, the Potion's Master sat in a close corner and pretended to ignore everyone around him. Hermione knew differently. Her meeting with Ms. Black was a strange occurrence. The woman had been intent on educating Hermione about her upbringing, and thus the standard of Pureblood upbringing.
She found herself with a new kind of awareness of Blood Purity supporters. The way Narcissa had explained it; it was the fear of discovery that drove most of them. They didn't understand the Muggle world and believed that the two worlds should cross as little as possible in order to keep the Wizarding World safe and protected. The presence of Half-bloods and Muggleborn threaten that secrecy.
The Muggle parents threatened their way of life through the ever present threat of exposure. Of course other ploys were at play. The more Half-bloods and Muggleborns there were, the more the Purebloods fell into the minority when they had been the ruling class for so long, it was a scary possibility for most of them to face. Especially the older generation.
Hermione had explained that she would never agree with that point of view, but she did understand their view of things a bit more. She told Narcissa and Draco that while her name and heritage had changed, she still believed in the equality of all Witches and Wizards; that would never change. Narcissa hadn't scorned nor praised her for her thoughts on the subject, she only said that Hermione had a strong constitution and that was admirable.
Overall she hadn't known what to think about the whole ordeal, but she had written Sirius and explained the experience in depth. Her Uncle had explained to her that what Narcissa said was in fact true, and that growing up under the Black name was especially harsh and cruel at the best of times. He explained to her that the elders of his family weren't just supporters, but fanatics.
Hermione could tell that Sirius was a bit disappointed that Narcissa hadn't lied or try to gloss over her past, but he admitted that there was a possibility that Narcissa was truly looking out for the wellbeing of her family. The Blacks did after all, hold family above all else.
Apparently Sirius was struggling with this idea just as she was; he had been disowned after all.
Hermione blinked as she focused back onto the here and now, it seemed that George and Fred had joined them while she was lost in her thoughts. "So, whatcha think about…" George started.
Fred cut in. "…the schools being here on Thursday?"
"Pretty exciting, yeah?" They finished together.
Hermione shook her head with a bemused smile. "Should be interesting, yes. Beauxbaton is an all-girl Academy and in like Durmstrang tends to solely Wizards. I imagine we all will be in for an adjustment with the different cultures, though I myself have spent time in France, albeit not Wizarding France. At least I do know a little bit about that. No one knows where Durmstrang is, however many speculate that it resides somewhere near Romania or even perhaps the northern parts of Russia." She shrugged and picked up her pumpkin juice.
The Weasley siblings gaped at the girl whilst Harry snickered, completely used to the rambling knowledge of his best friend. "Blimey 'Mione! Just imagine if you used that brain for something other than books!" George grinned.
"Something more like the elevation of inspiring devices for the use of distraction makers." Fred finished with a smirk.
Hermione snorted in disbelief at them. "If that's your way of saying I should help you with your plans of shenanigans, I respectively but adamantly decline." She stared pointedly at them until they rose from their seats and scurried away.
"You're glare is almost as bad as Mum's." Ginny giggled. Hermione smiled, though she didn't know if that was a compliment or not and set about finishing her breakfast before her first classes of the day.
Hermione sighed as she leaned against Harry's side, they were all lined out in the courtyard awaiting the arriving schools, honestly she rather be in the library working on her Potions essay on Unicorns. Professor Snape's segue into Magical Creatures and their many uses in potions was a bit surprising, but Hermione found herself enthralled by the material.
She had been even happier when each student was assigned a creature to do their essay upon and she was lucky enough to get Unicorns. Honestly she couldn't have thought of a more fascinating creature. She had already completely two of the five rolls of parchment required for the essay; she briefly worried about Harry's own essay.
She draws from her thoughts as the crowd starts to shift and a collective of students start pointing at an approaching spot in the sky. "Oh! Can you see it Harry?" She questioned as she watched it approach.
"Is that…is it a carriage?" The boy squinted through his glasses as he too peered up into the sky. Indeed the powder blue carriage flew closer, pulled by eight of the largest, winged horses Hermione had ever seen. It was coming in fast and she took a nervous step backward as she grasped Harry's arm to pull him with. Sure enough, the massive carriage careened into the ground, rocking precariously on two wheels before finally settling upright as the colossal white winged horses pounded their hooves onto the ground.
"Oi! Look at that over there! Somethin's in the Black Lake!" Ron's voice called out, catching both Harry and Hermione's attention. Sure enough ripples could be seen upon the surface and then the top of a mass breached the surface quickly giving way to the rest of the ship.
"Durmstrang." Hermione whispered, her mouth and nose buried into her scarf, though Harry had heard her just fine.
He drew out a low whistle. "Mighty impressive." Nothing else was said as they were quickly ushered into the Great Hall, taking their usual places.
Dumbledore stood up. "Now if you'd please give a warm welcome to our wary travelers. Let us welcome the fierce sons of Durmstrang and their Headmaster Igor Karkaroff!" His voice boomed as the Great Hall doors slammed open to a stream of fur coat wearing men, because these were certainly not boys, pounding sparking staffs to the rhythm that strongly resembled a militant march. Then the Headmaster appeared walking up between them with a very familiar Quidditch Player at his side.
All at once the pounding grew to an intimidating rate as the men took off at a run toward the Professor's table, flipping and doing tricks as they went. One of them producing a fiery Phoenix from his wand just as Headmaster and what seems to be his star pupil reach the table. The Headmasters embraced, Igor taking his seat at the table, along with the other guests, as his students took their seats with the Slytherins. Hermione laughed softly as Ron's groan reached her ears.
Again Dumbledore stood before them all. "Quite an Entrance Igor." He applauded his friend? The Great Hall clapped and laughed, before quieting down once more. "And now, please welcome our visitors from France, Beauxbatons and their Headmistress Madame Olympe Maxime!"
This time the doors didn't open with a bang, but a whisper as two rows of girls dressed in silk powder blue uniforms, dresses and cloaks that didn't look to be keeping the cold out and hats, filtered through the door. Then they danced. They bowed and sighed to each side, releasing magical butterflies as they went, that fluttered and disappeared in wisps of smoke. It was, in a word, entrancing. Then, with an elegance that Durmstrang's performance utterly lacked a girl made her way up the middle, sighing and dancing like her sisters had done, and as she bowed before Hermione, the Gryffindor was struck by a shocking shade of blue that made her lose her breath.
A sigh and butterflies released, the girl smirked and carried on up the isle until perfecting a magnificent ballet move before Dumbledore, getting up only to bow as her Headmistress passed to great him. So enraptured was Hermione that she almost didn't notice the half-giant Headmistress, almost. "Wow." She whispered as her eyes tracked the movement of blue robes until they sat across from them with the Ravenclaws.
Despite her best efforts of trying, and ultimately failing, to pay attention, the rest of the feast passed by in a blur of powder blue and butterflies. Hermione for the life of her couldn't stop thinking about the entrance of the Beauxbaton students, or really one girl in particular, but why? She had heard the whispers already, about her being Veela and it made sense.
She had met a Veela, and she knew how magnetic their presence could be, but Marguerite hadn't spelled her so thoroughly, had she? No, Hermione was sure that this was no different than how she felt in the Grandmother Veela's presence…of course the Veela thrall was to only work on men and/or the mate of a Veela...No, surely that meant nothing. It was the movement, Hermione was sure of it, after all she was not the only one affected by the scene.
Of course it did seem that only the male population was still memorized by their presence…and she of course.
No.
She was simply over thinking things, Merlin she needed some sleep. She picked at her food, ready for their dismissal so that she might find herself in her chambers sooner rather than later. Harry and Ginny were at her side talking about Quidditch, when she felt a warmth brush against her back. She gasped softly. "Excusez-moi? Do 'ou 'ave ze bouillabaisse? Ze o'zer table is out."
Hermione had never in her life heard something so…angelic? And it frightened her. She did not turn, she did not answer, all she could do was stare down at her plate…and her dinner of bouillabaisse. Harry frowned at his friend, but it was Ginny who came to rescue them from the awkward tension. "It's all yours, the only one that even wanted it was Hermione anyways." She gave a short laugh.
The pot exchanged hands, but the warmth was hard pressed to leave. "Oui, zank 'ou… jusqu'à ce que nous nous reverrons." Every second that the warmth drifted away, Hermione found herself wishing it back as her body shivered violently from the biting cold that replaced it.
"Hermione, what was that about?" Ginny asked, leaning close and pressing a hand to her shoulder.
Harry peered at her from across the way, having been the only one to see the French girl's expression, he thought maybe Hermione had offended the girl by not turning around. That wasn't like his friend at all, not even indirectly. "Mione, you okay?"
Hermione shook her head and stood abruptly from the table. "Right, well if you'll excuse me I'm having a bit of a headache and should retire of the evening. Harry, I'll see you in the morning, and remember to at least start your Potions essay. Ginny, I shall see you in our rooms if I am not already asleep. Goodnight." She left it that, not even waiting for a response as she all but ran from the Great Hall.
If she had been more aware, she would have found two sets of eyes following her from the room. Blazing blues darkened in sadness while dark browns shown in understanding and a touch of sympathy from where he sat at the Professor's table.