Introductions
Hermione thinks that Fleur Delacour is a pompous narcissist.
Colloquially speaking, that is.
Vain, stuck-up, arrogant, gorgeous…
The Gryffindor watches her from afar, giggling with her friends, gliding down the halls as if everyone around her isn’t just completely transfixed, drooling after her. It’s obvious she knows the effect she has on people. The boys, that is.
Most embarrassingly, the Hogwarts boys.
It makes Hermione quite upset. She loves Hogwarts. She doesn’t like seeing the school or the students made a mockery of. And to make matters worse, all she hears is criticism and disdain from the Beauxbatons students. The loudest of all the condescension is of course from their Tri-Wizard Champion herself.
NOT a great example to be setting for the other students.
They get into an argument one day. It is the first time either of them has spoken to each other directly.
Hermione hears her disrespectful drivel as they pass each other in the halls.
“Ze abundance of filthy stone in zis castle leaves much to be desired. I miss ze marble at Beauxbâtons. And zhese floating candles? Très… Comment dit-on … Tacky –”
“Excuse me!” Hermione jumps in, unable to listen to any more of it, “but if you had bothered to read, ‘Hogwarts, A History,’ you would know that –”
“Pardon moi, petite souris?” Fleur looks back at her, a glint in her eyes, “You are speaking to me?”
They get into it.
Hermione fumes.
Meanwhile, the older girl seems to relish the continued escalation.
“It is not my fault everyzing ‘ere is so moche!” she taunts.
“Why must you be so… URGH!” Hermione turns away with an exasperated groan and stomps off.
Fleur watches her, amused.
Their next encounter is accidental, taking place just a week later in the owlery.
Hermione sees her as soon as she makes it up the spiral stairs. Fleur’s back is to her, but Hermione immediately recognizes her distinctive posture and the way her silvery blond hair flows down her body.
She attempts to head back down unnoticed, but she steps into a pile of owl pellets causing her to reflexively gag and fall back into a crate.
“Qui es là!?” The girl exclaims, turning away from a startled owl with a half-tied scroll around its leg.
“Sorry!” Hermione calls out, pulling herself up and using her wand to clean up the mess on her shoe. “I didn’t know anyone was up here.”
She immediately notices Fleur’s tear-stricken face and knows she isn’t meant to see her this way. Fleur looks vulnerable, exposed. And infuriatingly, still beautiful.
“Oh. It is you,” Fleur turns back to her task. She seems unbothered by the interruption, unlike the agitated owl who has begun pecking her fingers.
“Bonsoir, petite souris.”
“Are you okay?” Hermione asks. She still doesn’t know what it means, but she finds that she doesn’t mind the diminutive nickname as much when it’s just the two of them.
“Ah, oui,” she quickly wipes the tears from her face. “I apologize for my state. Whenevair I think of my ‘ome my emotions, zhey pour out much too freely.”
“I’ve read that it is best to allow the expression of difficult emotions,” Hermione states as she walks up to her. Something about Fleur’s demeanor feels inviting, like she wants Hermione to be there.
“It was a suggested reading,” she adds in response to the inquisitive look.
“Ah,” Fleur doesn’t press her.
“Is all your knowledge gained through books and reading?”
“Well…” Hermione is used to defending her intellectual prowess, but she doesn’t sense any judgment in the question.
“For the most part, yes. It is the most efficient way to say, learn the history of a place or obtain proper instructions to brew a potion or perform a new spell or –”
“Or understand ze complex ‘istory of a divairse magical species and wizard race relations?” Fleur adds with a smirk.
“Well… yes, also that.” Hermione nods in surprise. She wonders if Fleur knows about her newly formed S.P.E.W. campaign. She continues speaking before Hermione can ask.
“And ‘ow can you be so sure zat what you read is ze truth?”
“Well, that’s the most exciting and interesting part, isn’t it?”
“Oh?”
“One must be a responsible reader, which can be a difficult and time-consuming task! Ensuring that your sources are reliable and updated, as well as unbiased. You must cross-reference and find different perspectives and viewpoints.”
“So. Research is ze most exciting part?”
“Oh, yes!” Hermione responds enthusiastically. “That is when we really get to exert our critical thinking skills so we might expand our minds! That is how we truly absorb and learn as opposed to just memorizing! And not to mention –” she stops suddenly, realizing just how much she has been talking.
“You are very passionate about zis,” Fleur says in a delighted tone.
“Sorry…” Hermione blushes. “I get carried away sometimes. I know I can be a bit much.”
“Zat is not what I said,” Fleur continues to smile as she looks back at the task at hand.
Hermione’s face continues to redden.
“Allez, oiseau têtu!” Fleur tries to wave her owl off. “Why does zis bird refuse to carry my lettre?”
“Oh, here!” Without thinking, Hermione takes Fleur’s hand and pulls a few bits of candy corn out of her robes, pressing the treats into her palm.
Fleur’s hand is soft and cold. Hermione wonders if the gloves she has seen her wearing will be warm enough for the approaching winter. She quickly realizes how silly the thought is; surely, she knows a spell to keep warm. Fleur is a 7th year after all and the selected Champion of her school. She must have loads of spells up her sleeve and expertise about things Hermione could only dream of. And here she is lecturing her on research! Embarrassing.
“What do I do with zis?” Fleur asks, hand still in her grasp.
Hermione quickly pulls her hand back, gesturing towards the owl. “He’s waiting for you to give him something worthwhile. And his name is Cornelius by the way. Hence, the candy corn.”
Fleur looks at her, again with no judgment, just curiosity before glancing up at the sign hanging above their heads.
DO NOT FEED THE OWLS
I’m talking to you!
Yes, you!
Don’t do it!
“Err… right. It’s far too late for that,” Hermione shrugs. “Generations late. They’ve come to expect it now. Which is likely why we weren’t supposed to do it in the first place. Though I don’t think it’s a bad thing that they get compensated for their work. They are living creatures after all.”
“D’accord,” Fleur agrees. “Though, I must tell you, I thought you would be more of a rule followair.”
“I break loads of rules!” Hermione says defensively.
“Is zat so?”
“Well… within reason.”
“Ah.” Fleur nods and turns back to Cornelius. “Désolé mon petit ami,” she says as she offers the corn. He takes his snack and gives Fleur an appreciative nip.
They both look out as he flies off into the dark night.
“To your point,” Fleur states, turning to look at her. “I agree. It is cat'artic to… release. Non?”
Hermione nods awkwardly under her gaze. She herself tends to struggle with emotions, finding it difficult to express the ones that make her feel weak and vulnerable, and yet not knowing when to hold back the fiery ones that get her into trouble.
It does make her very good at changing the subject though.
“You miss your family?”
“I do,” Fleur looks back out into the sky. “My family. My seester. My ‘ome.”
“Is that why you’re so disparaging towards Hogwarts?”
“Non,” Fleur shakes her head casually, “’ogwarts is just ze worst.”
“Hey!”
“I am joking,” Fleur snickers, nudging the shorter girl by her side. “It is not so bad. I do wonder what you would think if you saw Beauxbâtons. You would per’aps not be so… biased.”
“Hm…” Hermione knows it’s not an invitation, but something about the idea of going to visit Fleur’s home makes her giddy. She brushes it off quickly. Perhaps she is a bit biased, but she loves Hogwarts, and she vehemently defends the things she loves. Even if she has a bit of a blind spot for them.
“Steell,” Fleur continues, “I am a visitor ‘ere. I am sorry for being so rude.”
“Thank you,” Hermione appreciates the gesture, though it is not lost on her that the apology was for her rudeness and not the actual comments. “I suppose I should also apologize. For attacking you. That was rather rude as well and you are our guest.”
“You ‘ad assumptions about me,” Fleur looks away with a resigned shrug. “Zat is something I am used to.”
“Well, it shouldn’t be!” Hermione feels a pang of guilt at her behavior. She knows what it is like to be talked about, to have assumptions made about you. She doesn’t want to do the same to another girl. “No one should make assumptions about you based on bigoted stereotypes or your appearance!”
“You ‘ave bean thinking about my appearance?” Fleur peers back at her with a smile.
“Wha – No! – Well, I – Not that – What I mean –”
She lets out an affectionate laugh at the stammering. Hermione huffs but can’t keep herself from smiling. Perhaps Fleur doesn’t take herself as seriously as she had thought.
“So, you are aware zat I am part Veela.” It was a statement more than a question.
“I’d heard rumors,” Hermione answers quietly. She may not have partaken in the gossip, but she certainly hasn’t stood up for Fleur either. “And I might have allowed others’ opinions to influence my beliefs about you. But it won’t happen again. I promise!”
“Thank you," Fleur smiles genuinely. "I accept your apology about ze assumptions, but you must not 'old back if you 'ave something to say to me. I did enjoy our… eempassioned discussion last week and do ‘ope for more. You are a worthy debate partner.”
“Well, I’m more than just talk.” Hermione responds. She has no idea where her sudden confidence is coming from. She just feels a need to impress the older girl.
“Oh, I do believe zat is true.”
They stand in silence for a moment. Hermione feels a pull, a desire to get closer to her. She shuffles her feet instead, keeping herself at a safe distance.
“Well, I suppose it’s bedtime,” she says suddenly. “Early classes.”
“May I walk you to your dormitory?”
“That would be lovely.”
They walk side by side in silence. Despite the continued pull she notices herself struggling against, Hermione finds her companion’s presence comforting.
“If you’re ever feeling lonely,” she speaks up as she leads them through the maze of stairs and hallways. “I can always be your friend.”
Fleur looks at her in surprise.
“I mean, I know you have friends! Not that you have any need for more, I just thought, it might be nice to –”
“I would like zat,” Fleur nods appreciatively. “To ‘ave a friend from a place zat feels so foreign and strange… makes it feel more familiar.”
Hermione nods back, smiling to herself about how quickly she has shifted from villainizing the girl to offering friendship. She might have to process that later.
“This is me,” She points to the fat lady.
“Thank you for your company zis evening,” Fleur says. “May I kiss you?”
“What?!”
“Désolée,je pensais que… Are we not friends?”
“We are, but –”
“Ah, bien sûr! Of course!” Fleur laughs. “We ‘ave not yet been introduced!”
“HELLO,” she says, intentionally pronouncing the greeting. She takes Hermione’s hand and does a quick curtsy, “I am Fleur Delacour.”
“Hermione,” the smaller girl pauses to take a breath. “I’m Hermione Granger.”
“Enchanté, Mademoiselle Granger,” she bows playfully.
“Enchanté,” Hermione repeats, very aware that her hand is still in Fleur’s.
“Alors, now we are friends! It is customary for friends, a kiss on each cheek to bid farewell.”
“Yes!” Hermione responds a bit too quickly. “Err… since we’re friends and all. And if it’s customary.”
Hermione is practically levitating as Fleur approaches her. She takes a steady breath as she feels Fleur’s lips against one cheek and then the other.
She feels light. She feels like she is on a cloud.
She feels… confused.
She looks up at Fleur who is still standing there expectantly.
“Umm… sorry," Hermione beings to ramble, "I would invite you in. It’s just so late and not that I always follow the rules, but –”
“Oui, of course!” Fleur nods quickly. “Zat is not what I –”
“And I CAN'T say the password in front of you. Not that –”
“ ’Ermione.”
Fleur stops her with a gentle squeeze of her hand.
Hermione melts at the sound of her name coming out of Fleur’s mouth.
“Could you only direct me towards ze exit? I am a little turned around from all ze, euh …” she gestures with her hands and makes a ticking noise, emulating the sound of the staircases arranging and rearranging into each other.
“Oh!” Hermione grimaces. “Well, that was rather impolite of me. I should have walked you instead, shouldn’t I? Well, I suppose I can just –”
“Ah, no need!” Fleur suddenly releases her hand and waves to a Ravenclaw boy on the other side of the stairs. “Yoo-hoo, Marcos!”
“Oh…” Hermione isn’t sure why she suddenly feels so irritated.
“Do you know Marcos?” Fleur asks, turning back to her. “ 'E is a Ravenclaw prefect.”
Hermione feels offended at the question. This is her school after all, of course she knows... No, she realizes she doesn’t actually know the older boy. She’s surprised that he isn’t stumbling over his feet to get to Fleur. Instead he waits patiently for the stairs to come around again. Hmph.
“Marcos 'as been assigned to ‘elp ze Beauxbatons students,” Fleur explains.
“Helpful,” Hermione holds back an eye roll. “I still feel bad I didn’t offer though, perhaps I should –”
“Zen you must sit with me tomorrow.” Fleur’s face is suddenly close to hers again. It comes off like a command more than a question. “ 'Ave break from your seely, boyfriends.”
“They’re not my – !” Hermione is cut off by another kiss on her cheek. “Oh… kay…”
“Magnifique! Bonne nuit, petite souris!”
“Bonne... nuit…”
Hermione had a knot in her stomach. She was feeling incredibly nervous about approaching Fleur and her friends.
Despite seeing her in a more vulnerable state the evening before, Hermione assumed she would still be… No, she shook away any negative thoughts. She had promised Fleur she would not make assumptions about her. It was truly unfair.
She walked into the Great Hall, immediately spotting her at the Ravenclaw table. She reflexively smiled when she saw Fleur’s face, full of life as she engaged with her friends. Perhaps she wasn’t so pompous after all. Fleur was just confident and independent. Surely those were traits Hermione could appreciate.
She looked over to the Gryffindor table. Ron and Harry were in some sort of feud with Neville and Seamus. There was food all over the table, as well as on the boys themselves.
She looked back at the Ravenclaw table. They group seemed to be in some kind of thoughtful discussion over a book. None of them had food on their robes or faces.
Having made a decision, she walked over confidently.
“Hello there… ol’ chaps!” she recoiled at her words. Where did that come from?
The table all looked up at her in confusion.
“Hermione?” The prefect from last night took her aside. “Can we help you?”
“Uh…” Hermione searched the table for her new friend and waved. “Fleur! Uh… Bonjour!” What was she doing?
Fleur looked up with a confused look on her face.
“Do you know zis leettle girl, Fleur?” one of her Beauxbatons friends asked.
“Isn’t that Harry Potter’s little know-it-all muggle?” someone else said.
“Oh, this is the girl who had a meltdown the other day!”
“I heard she has no friends.”
They all laughed, making the knot in Hermione’s stomach double in size and travel up to her chest and throat. She held back tears as she looked to Fleur, pleadingly.
Fleur just continued to stare at her before suddenly breaking out into laughter.
They were all laughing. The whole group. The whole table.
Hermione looked around to see that everyone in the Great Hall was staring and laughing at her.
“What were you thinking, Mione?” Ron shook his head at her. “Why would someone like her want to be friends with you!?"
“Sorry Hermione,” Harry nodded in agreement. “You are a bit much. Even we can only tolerate you for moments at a time.”
“But…”
“ALLEZ, LEETTLE GIRL!” Fleur shooed her away, talons replacing her hands. Her crystal blue eyes were suddenly glowing red, and she was soaring over them.
She looked terrifying and breathtaking.
Hermione woke up with tears in her eyes. The room was dark and quiet, save for Lavender’s gentle snoring.
The Great Hall was gone, but the knot in Hermione’s stomach remained.