A/N: Not my sandbox, just my sand castle. I don't own anything from Harry Potter. Additionally, no one has permission to bind and sell my works, fandom or otherwise. Shame on you for exploiting other people's works!

Hello everyone! Welcome back to another fic :) Written in a haze (because I was so tired XD ) this is what my brain thinks happened had Hermione's parents pulled her from Hogwarts after the Troll Incident.

This one is for Round 3 of The Houses Competition, where I'm in Gryffindor House and writing for Potions. This competition, we have to write a drabble (500-1000 words) as well as a standard (1000-3000 words). This fic is the Standard of the two. Prompts are listed below.

Thank you kindly to Dora, and Ash Juillet for the beta!

Word Count: 1090

Disclaimers/Warnings:

Summary: Due to trauma from the Troll Incident, Hermione transfers schools only to find that friends don't have to be fairweather.

Prompts:

The Houses Competition Y11 R3

Beauxbatons Academy of Magic

Non-verbal

"Transfer Student"

Fleur wasn't entirely sure what had happened to the morose transfer student who had joined Beauxbatons only a few weeks ago just before the holidays. She was a first-year student, a witch born to non-magical parents, who had come in from Hogwarts. The teachers knew, but none of the students could figure out why the girl had transferred to the French magical school. Rumors ran wild, of course, but each idea seemed more outlandish than the last. From teachers attacking the students to a giant spider to the girl flunking out of Hogwarts in her first term, each seemed more ridiculous the longer the rumor mill persisted.

No one had yet been able to ask the girl in the three weeks she had been here. She had yet to speak a word to any of them–even the professors–and it made Fleur extremely curious to see what was so bad for the first-year student to switch schools mid-term.

The curly-haired witch was an enigma. So far, every homework assignment was textbook-accurate and well over the required length for their essays. Her work in Charms was astounding–as the fourth-year teaching assistant for Professeure Magnifique, Fleur was in charge of grinding the first-year essays–and Miss Granger's obvious intellect just made Fleur want to know more.

For the longest time, Fleur's superficial classmates always judged her because of her beauty and never took into account her dedication or intelligence or talent. This girl, however, would be Fleur's chance to have a friend…to make a friend.

But now she just had to learn how to get her to speak.

Surprisingly enough, Hermione's first two months at Beauxbatons were lightyears easier than Hogwarts, both socially and intellectually. At Hogwarts, Hermione had felt stunted and frustrated at how slow the course material was. Here at Beauxbatons, something that would have taken all month at Hogwarts was covered in a week.

And Hermione thrived.

Her parents had been understandably upset with the troll incident on Halloween and had immediately set out to withdraw her from Hogwarts. They had given her the option of where she wanted to go, but in the end, she wasn't allowed to stay in Scotland.

It wasn't that hard of a choice, after all. Hermione had no friends at Hogwarts, and she had been teaching herself the material in order to keep her mind engaged.

The troll incident was just the straw that broke the camel's back.

She had been hiding in the girl's bathroom, crying her eyes out at Weasley's latest taunt, which always hurt more than Malfoy's. Malfoy had the excuse of being a Slytherin pureblood snob. But Weasley? He was in her house. He was supposed to have been her family. Hermione thought she could weather his bullying, could handle the whispers behind her back, but in the end, Hogwarts was just like every other school: full of bullies and teachers who did nothing about it.

She had only had to endure another month of school at Hogwarts before her parents had pulled her out, but Hermione didn't care. That Halloween experience, of her housemates locking her into the girls' lavatory with the troll–she heard Potter and Weasley out there…she knew it was them–was traumatizing. She screamed so much; it felt like her voice would explode if she ever talked again.

And so she didn't.

Her professors were understandably upset with her about it, saying there was absolutely no reason why she couldn't speak. But Hermione just couldn't muster up enough energy to use her voice. And so she went nonverbal. Her classmates enjoyed her not speaking up in class, and while her classmates began to treat her better, Hermione noticed that her academics hadn't suffered like she thought they would. Her participation in class meant nothing to her grades, so she stopped.

Now, at Beauxbatons, she did the same. She still hadn't found her voice no matter how hard she tried to vocalize, but Hermione found she quite liked the silence. Classmates here in France didn't bug her for homework help, give her scathing looks for being eager, or bully her for her blood status. Classmates here involved her in teamwork and gave her research responsibilities for group projects.

They never made her speak if she didn't want to.

"Hello!"

Hermione grinned as the blonde fourth-year student approached her. Quickly scribbling on her Muggle pad of paper with her pen, Hermione held up a well-used lined pad of paper.

Hello Fleur! How are you today? Hermione asked back on her only mode of communication. Thankfully, French was one of the languages her parents insisted on her knowing. They vacationed there all the time, and their rationale was it was easier to ask for help in French than find an English speaker to help.

Fleur grinned back. "I'm good. How are you?"

Hermione blinked in surprise as Fleur used her hands as she spoke, gesturing with stunted motions. Hermione blinked again as it took her a moment to process what she had just seen.

What are you doing? Hermione asked curiously. Fleur grinned in response.

"I'm having a conversation with you, of course!" the beautiful blonde replied. Hermione had been intimidated by the stunning girl when they first met, however through her perseverance, Fleur had all but demanded a friendship.

No, with your hands! Hermione wrote frustratingly before practically shoving the pad of paper in Fleur's face.

"Oh, I'm signing," Fleur said, her hand movements hesitant.

Signing?

"French Sign Language. I just started learning, and I don't know how much you know, but if it's not a lot, we could learn together! And then you don't have to rely on that pad of paper to talk to your friends!" Fleur grinned.

Blinking in surprise once more, it took Hermione a moment to register Fleur's words before she grinned widely back at her friend, tears filling her eyes at the effort the other girl was willing to put in for their blossoming friendship.

I'm willing to learn! Hermione underlined the statement several times in her pad, and Fleur nodded in response.

"So, the alphabet is like this–" Fleur began her impromptu lesson on French Sign Language, and Hermione couldn't help but settle into her side. Here was a friend who was willing to learn. Here was a friend who liked being around her. And as Fleur concluded their first lesson twenty minutes later, Hermione couldn't help but thank her lucky stars for the move. If France meant better schooling and better friends, Hermione knew she never wanted to go back to Hogwarts.