Ron and Harry had fallen asleep, which all things considered was wonderful. It left Hermione alone with her thoughts, and though she could be with them at any moment, she felt especially drawn to them right then. She loved both her boys dearly, but she couldn't talk to them about these things and when they put themselves together, they could usually figure out when she has something bothering her. Separately, though, they have a right mind to dismiss it like she wished she could dismiss the thoughts themselves, the thoughts of her.
Hermione, at once, was reminded of the proverb about speaking of the devil.
Is it odd to think, whenever Hermione saw her, that Fleur looked more and more gorgeous than she could remember? Hermione thought not. It couldn't be odd if it were true.
"Hel-Hello!" Hermione called out. Stupidly.
If Madame Pince were around, Hermione would be immediately shoved out of her sanctum for even that. Speaking in a library was distasteful, rude, but then she, her friends, and Fleur were the only ones nearby that Hermione could tell. Besides, if she hadn't spoken up in this deadlock of silence, Fleur could easily slip deeper into the walls of shelves, and Hermione had the last couple of weeks' experience to know that Fleur would evade her even if she took off straight after her.
Today – now – was different, however. Fleur looked left and right in the sections of S's until she heard Hermione. The elegant arch of her eyebrow peaked and she turned in the direction from still three shelves over. Her hand was tracing idly along the spines of books as she passed until then. Fleur smiled.
Clearly, somewhere in France, they taught girls how to walk differently. Ron had said something about it earlier, and about how they don't make them like that at Hogwarts. It was nothing Hermione was meant to hear; she was retrieving the book of charms off the shelf when the boys were discussing it. But she had heard, and blast it all she agreed just then if only for a fraction of a moment. They don't make them like that at Hogwarts. And this was Fleur Delacour. Hermione didn't think they make them like that anywhere else in the world, only Fleur.
It was weird how Hermione went from not knowing a thing about her to finding her the most fascinating thing this side of the English border. Ironic, as it were, since she was not the one originally initiating their... whatever it is that they were going for.
Truth be told, Hermione was scared. It was funny when the idea was just an idea, when Fleur was just that girl who may possibly be into Hermione, but now... They were playing at something, and Hermione could never be sure – because her mind wouldn't let her believe it to be true – that Fleur meant anything by any of it.
That day after they had first met, Hermione would say because that is when they officially shook hands and greeted another like civil people, something happened that changed the tone of things a little bit, a small bit that should just be ignored because Hermione was thinking too much about things again.
But Fleur looked... So very confident.
As soon as she was close enough, Fleur slowed and slowed herself until she crept inches away from Hermione.
" 'ello," her lilt flowed smoothly from her elegant lips that were at once – Hermione realized far too slowly – upon the side of her face. A kiss on the cheek is entirely platonic, yes, yes, yes. If she keeps telling herself that, she can play down the sudden thumping of her erratic heart like it had just tripped down the stairs while trying to fetch its mail. Or the wave of warm, warm, heat crashing like a tsunami over her skin. And if her mind would keep on with these lovely images, she wouldn't need to even look at Fleur, but of course she did. She looked at Fleur pulling away from the simple gesture.
"Hermione Granger," Fleur breathed lightly.
Her name had never sounded better, if she was to be so honest.
"H-hello, Fleur," she replied much more quietly than before. Fleur was no more than an arm's reach away, and this was intimate space Hermione. She couldn't tell if it was because this was Fleur or this was because of Fleur... Or, if that made any sense. She had found that with her, not much seemed to.