Monday morning, Blaise was back, eating breakfast as he read the Daily Prophet by the time Hermione got there. Draco was having a loud conversation with Theo about the teaching standards at Hogwarts and how the Board of Governors was considering establishing a firm curriculum for Care of Magical Creatures, so Hermione wasn't able to talk Blaise quietly herself. Not that he would have been willing to talk to her, though - he was practically emanating the cold shoulder he was giving her with just his posture and expression, without saying a word.

There was a pleasant surprise in store for her, though – a raven swooped down with a letter and a pink lily, the letter sealed with bronze wax and a fleur-de-lis. Hermione felt her breath catch as she took the letter, opening the wax as fast as she could and unrolling the parchment to read.

.

Dearest Hermione,

Bon anniversaire! I hope you had a wonderful birthday.

My own birthday was a trial. My mother was correct to be concerned for my coming of age – my transition into adulthood did not go smoothly. My Veela blood is very powerful, perhaps more so than my mother's, and though I am forbidden to speak of many of the details, I can say that there was a not-insignificant time I was trapped as a bird.

There are no new abilities, to my despair, only enhancements of the allure I already have. But now, my dampening amulet is not strong enough, and it does next to nothing. Even with a wig, I cannot stop the boys from following me with their eyes. I have tried everything I can think of so far – I have worn a wig, I have worn a dampener amulet, I have worn the boys' uniform, I have worn a mask, I have worn a shapeless black cloak, hood, and cowl. No matter what I do, it is as if they can sense it is me, and their eyes are drawn to me all the same.

My mother insists that I can learn control, to learn to control the allure consciously, but I despair over ever mastering the skill. All her advice is useless. My friend Jules is the only defense I have at the moment – he intercepts the entranced boys and flirts with them himself, which seems to snap them out of their trance. I will continue to try and learn this skill to reign it in, but I struggle with it. It seems like too much.

Ah, the irony of this! An allure meant to capture the hearts of men, but the only men I would want would be ones not captured by my allure, those who were instead drawn to my mind and heart. No matter how handsome the boy or how clever his mind, when I see their eyes blur and their jaws go slack, any attraction I may have felt flies away. You have ruined me, Hermione, for the traditional Veela way – I cannot use my allure to pick a mate as I desire, for now I only want ones who want me as me.

I should not weigh you down with my own struggles; it was recently your birthday, too! Happy 15th, my dear Hermione. Though I must confess, I did not send you a gift…

…I intend to present it to you in person, and soon.

.

A unexpected squeal of excitement escaped Hermione as her heart raced, and her eyes devoured the elegant script as she read on.

.

Yes, I am coming to Hogwarts! Madame Maxime intends to bring anyone of age who wants to come for the Triwizard Tournament, and we have all signed up. While being a Triwizard champion would be an incredible achievement, I confess my ulterior motive is primary for me – going to Hogwarts means being close to you.

Léa, Manon, Juliette, Jules, and I are all coming. Many of the others who are of age are coming as well, but I care not about them – I care that I will have the support of my friends around me, and I care that I will see you. I am eager to meet your friends and your coven, to see who cares about you.

Madame Maxime says we will arrive near the end of October. For now, students who intend to go have an additional class for the next month that trains us to compete. Each day we are faced with a physical and magical obstacle to overcome. Today, I ran across a field of tentaculas and saddled an Abraxan. Yesterday, I had to climb a tree to avoid an erkling. Tomorrow, who knows what I might face?

Thank you for your letters, even though I was unable to write back for such a time. Your words gave me something to hold on to, a reason to hope and pull through my Veela trials. I long to see you again, to hold you and tell you how I have missed you so. I know Hogwarts is not like Beauxbâtons, but I do not care – I shall do whatever you desire, however you want. If I cannot hold your hand in the halls, I shall meet you in secret if I need. Manon tells me I should refuse to accept a secret liaison, but she does not understand what you mean to me.

Am I being presumptuous? I know not if you would want to see me as intimately as I crave. Your letters and eagerness for the tournament give me hope, but I know not if your romantic feelings still match mine. This thought, somehow, bothers me not – I know from your letters that you have not forgotten me, and I find myself almost looking forward to wooing you and making you mine once more.

Take care, Hermione. I look forward to seeing you soon.

Yours truly,

Fleur Delacour

.

Hermione rolled the note up, cheeks burning, and tucked it into her robes. She ate her breakfast absently, not engaging in discussion, merely shrugging when Draco asked her if she thought Hagrid should be fired.

Fleur was coming to visit. More than that, Fleur was coming to stay. She would stay nearly the entire year for the tournament, and Hermione would get to see her as much as she desired. For the first time, time with Fleur wouldn't be a limited, fleeting thing – it'd be a constant, subject to the mundanity of daily life, with its ups and downs. Hermione would get to see how well-suited they were to each other when they weren't caught up in a whirlwind of romance, what it would be like to consistently have Fleur at her side.

Hermione wondered if Beauxbatons students would have their own classes in French or if they'd join in with the Hogwarts classes 6th and 7th years. Would see get to see Fleur in the hallways? At mealtimes? Or only at the end of the day, once classes were over?

And Fleur had had a birthday, Hermione recalled. She'd come of age with a traumatic experience, it sounded, and Hermione wanted to be able to give Fleur something nice as a gift, something she could have that would at least hold some happy memory when she thought of her birthday.

Hermione was sure she could come up with something. She had a full month before Fleur would arrive, and there was plenty of time to experiment and devise the perfect gift for her.

"You want permission to leave the grounds?" Snape looked up from Hermione's request and raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, sir," Hermione said, nodding. "I want to take Frank and Alice Longbottom to see a muggle neurologist. That's a muggle doctor who specializes in—"

"I know what a neurologist is," Snape said curtly. "What I want to know is why."

Hermione bit her lip, considering.

"Neville's parents are… practically catatonic. But there's no physical reason why – their bodies seem fine." She shrugged. "Magical medicine hasn't done anything to help them. I thought, 'why not give muggle medicine a shot?'"

"And you decided to arrange all of this on a whim?" Snape inquired silkily. "Just woke up one day and decided to save the day?"

"It's not like that," Hermione protested, annoyed. "I met Neville's parents over the summer. I thought I might try to help. If the muggle doctors find nothing, all I lose is my time. But if they find something, it could help."

Snape surveyed Hermione from over his desk. Hermione clasped her hands tightly together, trying not to fidget.

"To be very frank, I am surprised you asked for my permission at all," Snape said finally. His eyes glittered. "Do not think I am unaware that you are using your newfound power as a landlord very loosely to leave the grounds."

Hermione winced and gave him a smile. "I'm just trying to be productive and helpful?"

Snape sniffed. "I'm sure."

He looked over the request again, before he rolled his eyes and sighed, signing it.

"I will allow you to use my Floo to get to St. Mungo's," he conceded.

"Yes!"

"—however," he went on, eyes glittering, "I am going to request the Ministry send a chaperone with you."

Hermione paused. "…a chaperone?"

"You will be a teenage girl wandering around London with two mentally unstable adults," Snape said, raising an eyebrow. "The Ministry has people who interface with muggles who can assist in your endeavor."

Hermione had no idea that people could just request help from the Ministry in dealing with muggles. It made an odd sort of sense, though – most wizards seemed to have no earthly idea how to properly interact. She wondered what department handled things like that.

"Fair enough," Hermione conceded. "Thank you, sir."

"I will need specifics," Snape told her sternly. "The time of the appointment, the names of the doctors, hospital, and procedures—"

"I have all that," Hermione said quickly. "All the details. My parents helped me get the appointments. I can provide them to you to give the Ministry. I have the whole thing planned out."

Snape nodded, then paused.

"Miss Granger," he said. "I understand your desire to help. Your idea is not a bad one. But you need to prepare yourself. If the results come back, and nothing can be done…"

He trailed off pointedly, and Hermione nodded.

"Prepare for the worst, hope for the best, right?" Hermione said, giving him a grim smile. "But it's always worth a try."