Welcome back to Unheard Music everyone. Thank you to those who reviewed and read this story, your reviews lit up my day. I hope everyone enjoys this chapter. Fleur might seem a little unpredictable in her emotions, but in this chapter at least, the parts are merely segments from a much larger period of time.
Hopefully I'll be able to update this story and keep it going. (your support has been wonderful) I already have chapter 3 written, which I'm super excited about, but we'll see. By the way, I am still looking for a beta if anyone is interested…
Disclaimer: I own nothing and am making no profit from this story.
Standing outside her classroom, Fleur steeled herself. She took a deep breath before pushing open the door and striding purposefully into the room (she cringed, she could practically hear drool falling onto desks) to stand in front of her desk. "Good morning class," she began. "My name is Fleur Delacour, but to you, it is Professeur Delacour." She could not help when her accent came out, even though she had worked hard to suppress it. She actually rather liked saying words with a French lilt, English was just so ugly sometimes. She looked at the class from beneath her eyelashes as she continued. "It is my pleasure to be your teacher this year. Let us begin, shall we? Turn to page 2 of your books if you please."
The class went relatively smoothly, the only major bump coming when she asked a question of Ronald Weasley, and he responded by asking if she was single. But apart from that, Fleur was very pleased. The highlight of the lesson came when she asked what a Protean Charm was used for. When no one raised their hand, she called on Hermione, who had been staring moodily out of the window. The girl answered with perfect accuracy (Fleur managed to comprehend that much as her brain became a befuddled mess upon hearing the brunette's voice, which happened to be the loveliest thing she had ever heard).
At the end of class she assigned a roll of parchment on what areas of charms would the students like to explore, and how would that area be useful to them after their graduation from Hogwarts (an easy assignment to be sure, but it was the first day after all).
After the seventh years had all left, which took some time as many of the boys crowded around Fleur in vain attempts to get her attention; she left the castle and made her way down to the lake where she sat at the water's edge. To her left there was a dock which had been built since she had last been to the school, it extended a large distance into the water, perhaps ten meters and it was at least two meters wide.
Fleur let herself fall back into the grass "Mon Dieu…" she breathed. Behind her closed eyelids she could see Hermione's face, every detailed engraved in her memory. "Elle est très belle." She mumbled to herself.
She stiffened as she heard footsteps approaching, and made to sit up but she paused when she heard the voice of Albus Dumbledore. "Relax Miss Delacour, there is no need to get up." Dumbledore folded himself down gracefully on the ground next to her before speaking again. "I hope you found your accommodations pleasing."
"Mais, oui!" replied Fleur immediately. It was true; her quarters were wonderfully decorated in soft blues with a giant fireplace and a beautiful view of the lake.
"Ah good, I had hoped you would find them to your liking." He continued. "I trust your classes are going smoothly, no one is giving you any trouble…" he left the question hanging in the air. He looked at Fleur, whose bright blue eyes were fixed on his own. "But I see that is not all that troubles you…" he mused, "I suppose it must be the matter of Miss Granger that is on your mind.
Fleur's eyes widened in surprise.
"Ah yes" he chuckled. "I can see I hit the nail on the head. Part of the reason I sent you the invitation to come here was to give you the chance you deserve. While it is true my knowledge of Veela and their culture is limited, I am aware that until you are one with your mate you will not be truly happy in life."
He chuckled again and cut her off. "Ah, young love…" he rose, "Good day Miss Delacour."
The Library, a quiet place, a refuge from the bustle of life in the castle, a place where young minds could come and study with shelves upon shelves of knowledge all around them. This is where Fleur found herself in the hours after dinner, immersed in a copy of the biography of Albus Dumbledore. (Not that she was shirking her work as a teacher; she was merely taking a break from grading, yes that was it.)To say it was interesting was an understatement. It was extremely interested, and Fleur wondered why she had never read it before. About half way through the seventh chapter, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, her pulse raced for no apparent reason and tingles raced up and down her spine. She knew that feeling; she knew who had just entered the library. Fleur got up and moved into the shelves of books: watching. Stalking her mind told her. She ignored it.
Hermione, her bag loaded down with books made her way to the secluded corner where Fleur had been moments ago. Fleur watched with interest as the girl sat and began to work. Hermione's pen practically flew across the paper as she wrote, and Fleur could not help but notice her delicate wrists that were exposed as she pushed up her sleeves.
When Hermione paused for a moment, Fleur made her move, approaching the table where Hermione sat. "Oh," she exclaimed, feigning surprise. "I had not expected anyone to be here. I hope you don't mind?" Feeling bold Fleur sat down before Hermione could respond. Hermione shrugged and continued with her work.
With a mental shrug of her own, Fleur opened her book and continued to read. She did not get far before her gaze was drawn upward to Hermione's face. The girl's brow was furrowed in concentration as she mouthed something to herself. Fleur smiled gently, she was so cute. Hermione glanced up at Fleur who quickly looked back down at her book. The girl gave her a look of irritation before continuing her writing.
Smirking internally Fleur decided to play a little. She looked up at Hermione again; fixing the girl with a look that she knew could make any man's pants just a little tighter. Her gaze fell on the brunette's lips, which were pink and full. The girl was nervously biting them. Her eyes blazing, she raised them again to Hermione's deep brown orbs. The girl's quill had ceased its movements and her eyes were wide as they stared at Fleur. Fleur smirked, the action causing the younger girl's eyes to narrow dangerously at her. A challenge. And Fleur was not one to deny any kind of challenge. Her pride was too great for that.
In a fluid, graceful movement Fleur was standing. She walked behind Hermione and looked over her shoulder; the girl stiffened. She leaned in close, and she could feel the heat radiating off of the girl. "Ma belle, I'm afraid you have spelled exhilaration wrong…"
Hermione's face turned a deep shade of red as she felt Fleur's breath against her ear. Rechecking her parchment, she saw that the French woman was correct. She wondered how she could have possibly spelt the word wrong, it was very uncharacteristic. She turned back to the blonde to give a snide reply, but when she looked around, the Veela had disappeared.
Thanks for reading!