3rd March 1995
Hogwarts
Hermione stopped at the doorway of the Great Hall. Her eyes instinctively scanned the Ravenclaw table before moving across the other house tables.
Ben wasn't there. A quiet sigh escaped her, carrying an odd mixture of relief and disappointment.
She had spent the last week avoiding him. She would arrive at breakfast after he had already eaten, leave lessons before he could catch up with her, and choose seats as far away from him as possible whenever they had to be in the same room. She had even stopped visiting the Arcane Club whenever she knew he would be there.
It wasn't that she was angry with him. Not at all. Hermione knew Ben had been just as taken aback by Fleur's actions as she had been. He hadn't encouraged her. He hadn't kissed her back. He hadn't done anything wrong.
She knew that.
That was exactly what made everything so difficult. She simply didn't know what to say to him. For once, words had failed her. Logic had failed her.
Hermione Granger could usually find an answer for almost anything if she was given enough time to think about it. She could dissect a problem, examine it from every possible angle, identify its causes and consequences, and eventually arrive at a reasonable solution.
But there was nothing reasonable about the tangled mess of emotions inside her chest. So she had kept her distance. It was safer that way. At least until she could sort everything out.
She made her way toward the Ravenclaw table and sat down beside Luna. Daphne and Tracey were seated nearby, along with Harry and Neville.
Luna looked up from her breakfast. "Good morning."
"Good morning," Hermione replied quietly. She reached for the teapot and poured herself a cup.
Luna studied her for a moment. "You look tired."
"I'm fine."
Daphne glanced up from her plate. "That's what he said. Although, I don't think either of you actually are."
Luna gave Hermione a sympathetic smile.
"I'm sure if you just talked to him, it will be okay."
Hermione stared down at her tea. She knew Luna was right. At least, she hoped she was.
"I will..." she murmured. After a moment, she nodded. "I will." She hesitated before asking, "Has he... been here already?"
Harry nodded. "Well, he did come down. But he left without eating anything."
Hermione's brow furrowed. "Why?"
The others exchanged glances. Tracey was the one who finally answered.
"He came to tell us that he was going on another trip. You know... offworld."
"Again?" Hermione asked, unable to conceal her surprise. "But... he just returned from one a few weeks ago."
"We know," Neville said. "He said that it was really urgent and that he had to leave immediately."
Hermione stared at him. "Did he say when he'd be back?"
Tracey shook her head. "He just asked us to inform you and Rachel that he was going away for a while."
Hermione didn't know what to say. Didn't know what to do. Didn't know what to feel. When Ben had been there, she had felt as though she didn't know how to face him.
And now that he was gone, all she could think about was his stupid face, his playful voice, and that roguish smile that could make even the most serious situation seem somehow less frightening.
She pushed her chair back.
"I need some air."
Before anyone could respond, Hermione turned and walked out of the Great Hall. She crossed the Entrance Hall and rushed through the castle's open front doors.
The grounds were almost empty. Most of the students were still inside, making their way toward breakfast, leaving the lawns strangely quiet.
Hermione kept walking. She didn't have a destination in mind. She simply needed to move.
Her thoughts were too loud. Her heart hurt. Ben had been her first friend at Hogwarts. He had been there with her from the very first day. Over the past four and a half years, their friendship had gradually evolved into something beautiful—something Hermione had been grateful for every single day.
Ben was everything she had ever imagined a partner should be. Kind. Considerate. Thoughtful. Someone who seemed to understand parts of her that even she didn't fully understand herself.
She had naively assumed things would simply continue as they were. That nothing would ever come between them. And yet, at the first real hiccup along the road, what had she done?
Instead of talking to him and clearing the air, she had shut him out. For a week. While he tried. While he waited.
And now he was gone. Gone without a word. Whether because he hadn't wanted to see her... or because she had spent the entire week making certain that he couldn't.
Hermione's pace gradually slowed. She lowered her head.
"Idiot," she muttered to herself.
She looked up and saw that she had reached the edge of the Black Lake. The water stretched before her, dark and still beneath the pale morning sky.
Hermione stopped. Her eyes drifted across the lake. And suddenly she was back there. The Second Task. The darkness beneath the water. The moment Ben had appeared wearing that ridiculous black armour glowing with bluish-white light. The way he had rescued her and carried her up safely from the depths of the lake.
Her gaze slowly moved toward the opposite shore. There, beneath the distant branches of the enormous oak tree, lay a place that held an entirely different memory.
She remembered standing beneath those ancient branches with Ben. Remembered the nervous excitement of that evening. Remembered the secret he had trusted her enough to reveal.
His dragon form. The first time he had shown her what he truly was capable of becoming. And later, beneath those same branches, they had finally said the words neither had been brave enough to say before.
I love you.
Hermione's vision blurred. A silent tear slipped down her cheek. Her shoulders trembled faintly as she stared across the lake.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
The words were almost lost beneath the gentle breeze.
"Please, come back..."
Her voice broke.
"Come back to me."
---
April 1995
Granger Residence, Oxfordshire
More than a month had passed since Ben had left Hogwarts, and he still hadn't returned.
When he had first disappeared, Hermione had convinced herself that he would be gone for only a few days. But gradually, the days had stretched into weeks, and the weeks had eventually become a month.
Now the Easter holidays had arrived, and Hermione had returned home to Oxfordshire.
Normally, coming home was comforting. There was something reassuring about the familiar walls of the Granger residence, the quiet of the neighbourhood, the smell of her mother's cooking, and the simple rhythm of ordinary life. Yet this time, the change of scenery had done little to ease her mind.
If anything, being away from Hogwarts had made Ben's absence even more noticeable. At school, there had always been something to occupy her. Classes. Homework. Books. The Arcane Club. Her friends. Even the endless bustle of Hogwarts itself provided enough distractions to keep her thoughts from lingering too long on things she would rather not think about.
At home, there were far fewer distractions. And whenever her mind was allowed to wander, it inevitably returned to him.
Hermione sat curled up on the living-room sofa, a book open in her lap. Her eyes were fixed upon the page, but she hadn't actually read a single word for quite some time. Her thoughts were somewhere else entirely.
She didn't even notice when her mother entered the room.
"You're not actually reading that, are you?"
Hermione looked up. Emma Granger was standing in the doorway, watching her with a concerned expression.
"What makes you say that?"
Emma walked over and sat beside her daughter on the sofa.
"Well, for starters, you have been staring at the same page since I brought you that cup of tea, my dear."
She tilted her head towards the coffee table. Hermione followed her gaze.
There, beside the sofa, sat a cup of tea that had long since gone cold. She hadn't even noticed when her mother had brought it.
"Oh."
Hermione lowered her gaze and shook her head.
"I'm sorry. I'm just tired."
"I've noticed."
Emma's voice was gentle, but there was concern beneath it.
"You've been that way since you came home. Is everything okay?"
Hermione forced a small smile.
"Everything is fine, mum."
Emma studied her for a moment. She clearly didn't believe her. But rather than press the matter, she simply rose from the sofa.
"If you say so."
She walked towards the doorway, but stopped just before leaving. Turning around, she looked back at her daughter.
"When you're ready to tell me what's wrong, I'll be here."
Hermione watched her mother leave, staring at the doorway for several moments after Emma had disappeared from sight.
Three days later, Hermione found herself sitting in the small garden at the back of the house.
It was a pleasant spring morning. The air was cool and fresh, carrying the faint scent of flowers beginning to bloom. Sunlight filtered through the branches of a large tree that stood at the centre of the garden, casting shifting patterns of light and shadow across the grass. Two wooden swings hung from one of its sturdy branches.
Hermione sat on one of them, moving gently back and forth without any real purpose. Her hands loosely gripped the ropes as she stared into the distance.
"Mind if I join you?"
Hermione looked up. Her mother stood nearby.
"Of course not."
Emma smiled faintly and sat down on the other swing.
For a few moments, neither of them spoke. The only sounds were the gentle creaking of the swings and the occasional rustle of leaves overhead.
Eventually, Emma broke the silence.
"Would you like to tell me now what's eating you?"
Hermione looked away.
"There's nothing—"
"Hermione."
The single word was quiet, but firm. Hermione looked towards her.
"I'm your mother. You don't have to pretend with me."
Hermione held her mother's gaze. For several long seconds, she said nothing. Then her shoulders slowly dropped. A deep sigh escaped her.
She had spent weeks keeping everything bottled up inside, trying to reason through her feelings on her own. But perhaps she had reached the point where she could no longer carry them alone.
So she finally stopped pretending. She told her mother everything.
She told her about the Second Task. About being chosen as one of the hostages. About Ben arriving in that extraordinary magical suit of armour and rescuing her. About Fleur Delacour, the Beauxbatons champion. About how Ben had helped Fleur reach her own hostage and how, after everything was over, Fleur had kissed him.
Right there in front of everyone. Including Hermione.
Then she told her mother what had happened afterward. How she had avoided Ben for an entire week, because she hadn't known what to say to him. How Ben had suddenly left Hogwarts. And how, more than a month later, he still hadn't returned.
When Hermione finally finished, silence settled over the garden. Emma reached across and placed a reassuring hand on her daughter's shoulder.
"I see."
Her expression softened.
"I'm sorry, my dear. This past month must have been very trying for you."
Hermione looked down at her hands.
"I know it was stupid. I just didn't know what to do." Her voice became quieter. "I was angry, but not really at him. It wasn't his fault. I was jealous. And confused. I kept thinking about Fleur and wondering whether she..."
"Whether she might take him away from you?"
Hermione nodded.
"Yes."
Emma was silent for a moment. Then she said, "In all honesty, I'm not surprised something like that happened."
Hermione looked at her. "What?"
"Hermione, charismatic, powerful and successful people like Ben tend to attract attention. They are like flames, drawing other people towards them like moths to the light."
Emma gave her daughter a small, comforting smile.
"Tell me about this Fleur Delacour."
Hermione hesitated.
"She is beautiful...very beautiful. She's smart too. And talented. There's a reason she's the Beauxbatons champion."
"And how does Ben treat her?"
Hermione shrugged.
"Normally. He is courteous and polite to her. But he doesn't treat her differently from anyone else."
She paused.
"Although..."
"Yes?"
"He does seem to care about her. He warned her about the dragons before the First Task. He didn't have to. But he wanted her to be prepared."
"And the Second Task?"
"He practically rescued her."
Hermione looked down at the grass.
"She was being attacked by Grindylows. Ben found her underwater, drove them away, recovered her wand, and then took her to the hostages. She wouldn't have been able to free her sister otherwise."
Emma looked at her daughter carefully.
"Do you think Ben likes this girl?"
Hermione didn't answer immediately. Her gaze drifted across the garden.
She thought about everything she had seen between Ben and Fleur. His kindness towards her. His concern for her safety. The warning before the First Task. The way he had gone after her during the Second Task.
Eventually, Hermione spoke.
"Yes. I think he does." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "Although how much, I can't say. Maybe he doesn't even realise it himself."
"And that's what frightens you."
"Yes."
Emma nodded slowly. Then, after a brief pause, she asked another question.
"Do you think Ben truly likes you?"
Hermione paused.
"I..."
Her mind slowly filled with memories.
The first time they had met at Hogwarts. All those years of friendship. The countless conversations they had shared. The evenings spent together. The laughter. The quiet moments when neither of them needed to say anything. The times Ben had confided in her—his hopes, his dreams, his fears.
The way he trusted her. The way he had wanted her beside him. For eons. A small, almost wistful smile touched Hermione's lips.
"Yes," she finally said. Her voice was soft but certain. "I think he does."
Emma smiled gently.
"Very well." She paused. "Finally... do you truly like Ben?"
Hermione's eyes gradually moistened.
"I do."
Her voice trembled.
"I really do."
She swallowed hard.
"I love him, mum. I love him more than anything."
A tear slipped down her cheek.
"And the thought of losing him..."
Her voice broke.
"It's more painful than I can bear."
Emma stood from the swing and crossed the small distance between them. She wrapped her arms around her daughter.
"It's alright, darling. It's okay. You haven't lost him."
Hermione buried her face against her mother's shoulder.
"He left, mum."
Her voice was muffled by tears.
"I pushed him away. And I don't know if he will ever come back..."
She hesitated.
"...to me."
Emma gently stroked the back of her daughter's head.
"Do not underestimate the strength of your bond, sweetheart. I have seen how close the two of you are."
She paused before continuing.
"And knowing Ben, I doubt someone like him would give up on you just because you gave him the silent treatment for a week."
Hermione slowly pulled back and looked up at her mother. Her eyes were red and tearful.
"You really think so?"
Emma smiled.
"I do."
She gently brushed a strand of Hermione's hair away from her face.
"I am sure he will be back once he is finished doing... whatever he's off doing."
Hermione gave a tiny, almost reluctant smile.
"However, when he comes back, you must speak with him and clearly tell him how you feel."
Hermione nodded.
"And one more thing."
Hermione looked at her.
"Whatever Ben decides in regards to Ms Delacour, promise me that you will stay out of it."
Hermione's expression became uncertain.
"Why?"
"Because love isn't ownership, Hermione."
Emma's voice remained gentle, but there was a quiet firmness to it.
"You can't force someone to choose you simply because you love them. If you truly care about him, then you will let him decide what he wants."
Hermione lowered her eyes. After a moment, she nodded.
"I promise."
"Good."
Emma kissed the top of her daughter's head.
"For if you try to force your choice upon someone, sooner or later they end up resenting you for it. And nothing destroys a relationship more completely than resentment. Once it takes root, it gives rise to bitterness. And bitterness, if left untreated, ultimately turns into hatred."
Her arms tightened gently around Hermione.
"You don't want that."
Hermione shook her head.
"No."
"Then don't give it a chance to grow."
Hermione remained in her mother's embrace for a long while. The uncertainty hadn't disappeared. Neither had the fear. But for the first time in weeks, Hermione felt as though the weight pressing against her chest had become somewhat lighter.
---
26th May 1995
Hogwarts
By now, Hermione had stopped telling herself that Ben would probably be back tomorrow.
It had been almost three months since he had left Hogwarts. His absence was no longer merely something Hermione missed. It had become a genuine source of concern.
She knew better than anyone else what Ben was truly capable of. Since the beginning of their second year, he had been teaching her and their friends spells that were far beyond anything they were normally expected to learn at Hogwarts. Some of them apparently came from other universes—spells and techniques that Hermione had never even imagined existed before meeting him.
And those were merely the things he had chosen to teach them. She could only imagine what else remained in his repertoire.
Then there was his dragon form, his extraordinary magical abilities, his artefacts, his armour, his seemingly endless collection of knowledge, and perhaps most importantly, his ability to think quickly when things went wrong.
Hermione was fairly certain that Ben could survive situations that would have been fatal to almost anyone else.
But knowing that did not mean she didn't worry about him. And now, with less than a month remaining before the Third Task, that worry had become increasingly difficult to ignore.
Hermione sat at her desk in the Transfiguration classroom, staring at the tiny swallow perched on its edge.
The bird was the result of the exercise Professor McGonagall had assigned them for this lesson. Each student had been given a small wooden box and instructed to transfigure it into a living creature.
Hermione had managed the transformation almost perfectly. Around the classroom, however, the results varied considerably.
Some students had produced birds that looked reasonably convincing. Others had created creatures that were only vaguely recognisable as birds. One particularly unfortunate attempt had resulted in something with two wings, four legs and an expression of profound confusion.
Hermione barely noticed any of them. Her attention remained on the little swallow in front of her.
For a fleeting moment, she wondered what Ben would have thought of the assignment. He probably would have turned the box into something ridiculous just to amuse himself. The thought brought a faint smile to her lips.
The bell rang.
The swallow vanished as Hermione carefully reversed the transfiguration, and the little wooden box reappeared on her desk.
Professor McGonagall rose from her chair.
"That will be all for today. Homework—write a three-foot essay detailing the specific mental barriers encountered when forcing a non-mammalian object to take on mammalian traits."
A collective groan spread through the classroom.
Hermione ignored it and began gathering her Transfiguration book and notes, carefully placing everything inside her bag.
"Ms Granger."
Hermione looked up. Professor McGonagall was watching her.
"Would you stay for a moment, please?"
"Of course, Professor."
The other students began filing out. Within a few minutes, the classroom had emptied. The door closed behind the last student, leaving Hermione alone with Professor McGonagall.
The professor approached her desk.
"It is my understanding, Ms Granger, that Mr Carter is on another one of his trips?"
Hermione nodded.
"Yes, Professor."
"Do you have any idea when he would be returning?"
Hermione shook her head.
"I'm afraid not, ma'am."
McGonagall sighed.
"That is what I feared."
For a moment, she seemed to consider her words.
"Earlier today, Mr Bagman informed the Headmaster that he has some important information regarding the Third Task which he wishes to convey to all the champions. But as Mr Carter is absent, and we have no indication of when he will return..."
Hermione immediately realised the problem.
"If it helps, Professor, I can listen to what Mr Bagman has to say and explain everything to Ben when he comes back."
McGonagall's expression softened into a small smile.
"I was hoping you might be willing to do that."
She paused.
"I realize it is not ideal, but under the circumstances, it is the best that we can do. Mr Bagman will be meeting the champions tonight at nine o'clock on the Quidditch pitch. The other champions have already been informed."
Hermione nodded.
"I'll be there."
"Good. Thank you, Miss Granger. You may take your leave now."
Hermione gathered her bag and left the classroom.
As she walked down the corridor, she found herself thinking about Ben again.
She was fairly certain that he would return before the Third Task. After all, taking part in the Triwizard Tournament had been his choice. Ben took his promises seriously, and Hermione knew how much he prided himself on keeping his word.
The question was not whether he would return. It was when.
Yet, regardless of everything else, Hermione had little doubt that Ben would ultimately win the tournament. She had seen what he had done during the first two tasks. Whatever the Third Task contained, she was confident that Ben would be more than capable of handling it.
But the tournament wasn't what occupied her thoughts now. It was one of the other champions.
Professor McGonagall had said that Ludo Bagman would be meeting the champions on the Quidditch pitch. Which meant Fleur Delacour would be there.
Hermione's expression tightened slightly. For the last three months, she had deliberately ignored Fleur.
It wasn't because Fleur had mocked her. She hadn't. And it wasn't because Fleur had tried to humiliate her or behaved smugly about what had happened after the Second Task. She hadn't done any of those things either.
If anything, Fleur had been remarkably polite. She had even tried to speak to Hermione on several occasions. Hermione had simply shut her out.
Hermione didn't hate Fleur. She couldn't. There was no justification for hating someone simply because that person had developed feelings for the same man she loved. But neither did Hermione particularly like her.
Fleur Delacour was beautiful, intelligent, talented and confident. She was a champion in her own right, and Hermione knew perfectly well that Fleur could have attracted the attention of almost any boy she wanted.
And yet, she had chosen Ben.
Hermione knew that love wasn't ownership. She knew she couldn't force Ben to choose her. And she had promised her mother that she wouldn't interfere.
But none of that meant that her jealousy had simply disappeared.
It was one thing to understand something logically. It was another thing entirely to feel it.
---
By half past eight that evening, Hermione left the Arcane Club. The castle was much quieter now. Most students had returned to their common rooms for the evening, leaving the corridors unusually peaceful.
Hermione descended the Grand Staircase in silence. Upon reaching the Entrance Hall, she stepped outside. Despite the late hour, the sky above the Scottish Highlands had not yet become completely dark.
The northern latitude meant that twilight lingered surprisingly long at this time of year. The western horizon was still painted in fading shades of gold, pink and deep blue, while the first stars were beginning to emerge overhead.
Hermione descended the broad stone steps, crossed the lawn and continued towards the Quidditch stadium. As she approached the stands, she noticed that the entrance appeared to be blocked. After looking around, she found a gap beneath one of the stands and slipped through it.
The moment she stepped onto the field, she stopped. And stared.
The Quidditch pitch was no longer smooth and flat. Instead, long, low walls seemed to stretch across the entire field, twisting and crisscrossing in every direction. Bending to examine the nearest one, Hermione realised that they were hedges.
"Hello there!"
Hermione looked towards the centre of the field. Ludo Bagman stood there with Viktor Krum and Fleur Delacour. She gave an inward sigh and began making her way towards them, carefully climbing over the hedges.
As she approached, Fleur offered her a tentative smile. Hermione pretended not to see it. Instead, she noticed Bagman's expression. There was clear disappointment on his face. He had probably been hoping Ben would be the one showing up.
"Good evening, Ms Granger," Bagman said, brightening up. "Thank you for coming. Professor McGonagall has apprised me of the situation."
Hermione nodded.
"I'm sorry he's not here, sir."
Bagman waved a hand dismissively.
"Nothing to apologize for. As long as Mr Carter returns before the Third Task, everything will be fine."
He paused. Then, a tad nervously, he added,
"He will be returning before that, won't he?"
Hermione answered without hesitation.
"I'm positive he will."
"Oh, well, let's hope so."
Bagman quickly returned to his usual cheerful tone.
"Anyway, since we are all here now..."
He gestured broadly at the field around them.
"...can anyone guess what we're building here?"
Hermione glanced around. The answer seemed obvious.
"A maze?"
"That's right! A maze."
Bagman's grin widened.
"The Third Task's really very straightforward," he continued. "The Triwizard Cup will be placed in the centre of the maze. The first champion to touch it will receive full marks."
Fleur looked at him. "We simply have to get through the maze?"
"There will be obstacles," said Bagman happily. "Hagrid is providing a number of creatures... then there will be spells that must be broken... riddles that must be answered... all that sort of thing, you know."
He gestured around them.
"The champions will enter the maze in sequence, based upon their current total number of points. But you'll all be in with a fighting chance, depending how well you get past the obstacles."
He gave them an eager smile.
"Should be fun, eh?"
There was a brief silence. Hermione, who knew only too well the kind of creatures that Hagrid was likely to provide for an event like this, thought it was unlikely to be any fun at all.
"Very well," Bagman said. "If you haven't got any questions, we'll go back up to the castle, shall we? It's a bit chilly..."
They began making their way out of the growing maze. It already seemed surprisingly complicated, despite the hedges being barely waist-high. Hermione found herself wondering what it would look like in a month's time.
Eventually, they reached the edge of the Quidditch pitch and started walking back towards the castle.
As they crossed the grounds, Krum separated from the group and headed towards the Durmstrang ship, which remained anchored in the Black Lake. Bagman, Fleur and Hermione continued towards the castle.
The evening had grown colder now. Their footsteps echoed softly against the stone path. As they approached the route leading towards the castle steps, Fleur suddenly spoke.
"Ms Granger?"
Hermione stopped. Bagman turned around as well.
Fleur looked directly at Hermione.
"Could I speak with you for a moment?"
Hermione stared at her. For nearly three months, she had avoided this exact situation.
She didn't want to speak with Fleur. Not because she feared her. Not because she hated her. But because she had no idea what Fleur would say, and Hermione wasn't entirely certain she was ready to hear it. Yet she also knew that she couldn't keep avoiding Fleur forever.
Hermione took a slow breath. Then she nodded.
"Alright."
She turned towards Bagman.
"You can go ahead, Mr Bagman. I shall be along shortly."
Bagman smiled and nodded.
"Very well."
He gave both girls a brief glance before continuing towards the castle doors.
Hermione watched him leave. Then she turned back towards Fleur.
---
Hermione and Fleur walked in silence, leaving the castle's front courtyard behind them. Neither seemed particularly eager to begin the conversation, and for a while, the only sounds accompanying them were their footsteps against the gravel path and the gentle rustling of the evening breeze.
They eventually stopped halfway between the castle and Hagrid's cabin, not very far from where the enormous Beauxbatons carriage had been stationed since the beginning of the Triwizard Tournament. Nearby, the magnificent winged Abraxans were gathered inside a makeshift paddock, their pale coats gleaming faintly in the lingering twilight. One of the enormous horses raised its head as the two girls approached, regarded them with mild curiosity, and then returned to grazing.
Hermione turned towards Fleur.
"So... what is it you wanted to talk about?"
Fleur took a deep breath. A small smile appeared on her beautiful face.
"First of all, I wished to introduce myself to you. Even though I have been here at Hogwarts for months now, I haven't had the pleasure of making your acquaintance."
She extended her hand.
"Bonjour. I am Fleur Isabelle Delacour, final-year student of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. You can call me Fleur."
Hermione looked at the offered hand. For a brief moment, she didn't know what to make of the gesture. It was such an ordinary, courteous thing to do, and yet, given everything that had happened between them, it felt strangely significant.
Eventually, she reached out and shook Fleur's hand.
"I am Hermione Jean Granger, fourth-year student of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
Fleur's smile widened slightly. If she was disappointed that Hermione hadn't offered the use of her first name in return, she gave no indication of it.
"Pleased to meet you, Ms Granger."
They released each other's hands. Fleur's smile gradually faded, replaced by a more serious expression.
"Secondly... and more importantly... I wanted to apologise to you."
Hermione blinked, not having expected that. She remained silent, allowing the French witch to continue.
"Since I arrived here, I have come to know how close you and Ben are. There is no denying that you both have something special, something beautiful."
Fleur paused, choosing her next words carefully.
"The last thing I want is to come between the two of you. And yet, when it comes to matters of the heart, we often find ourselves strangely powerless."
She looked straight into Hermione's eyes.
"I like Ben. I really do. I wish to have a place in his heart... in his life. But I also want him to be happy. And I believe he can only be that way with you by his side."
Hermione remained silent.
She had spent the past three months trying not to think about Fleur, and whenever she had failed, she had invariably imagined the Beauxbatons champion as someone who threatened the happiness she had found with Ben.
Yet here Fleur stood, openly acknowledging the importance of Hermione's relationship with him. It was rather difficult to reconcile that with the image Hermione had constructed in her mind.
Fleur took another deep breath.
"Please know that even though I ended up hurting you, it was never my intention to do so."
Her expression softened.
"I'm sorry."
Hermione looked at her for a long moment. She wanted to say something, but the words refused to come.
Fleur seemed to understand.
"Thank you for listening to me. Good night."
With that, she turned and began walking towards the Beauxbatons carriage.
Hermione watched her go. She had expected an argument, perhaps even a fight. Instead, Fleur had apologised, explained herself, and walked away without asking Hermione for anything in return.
It left Hermione with an uncomfortable sense that the conversation had ended before she had managed to say anything meaningful.
She released a long, weary sigh.
"Why?"
Fleur stopped. She turned around, looking puzzled.
"Excusez-moi?"
Hermione hesitated, then raised her eyes to meet Fleur's.
"Why him? You seem smart, confident, beautiful...probably the most beautiful young woman I have ever met."
She paused.
"Why would you go for Ben when you could have any other guy you wanted?"
Fleur stared at her for a moment. Then her expression became thoughtful.
"...Why Ben?"
She repeated the question softly, almost as though she were asking it of herself.
"I don't know. There is just something about him... something that draws you close and won't let you leave."
A faint smile touched her lips.
"For me... I think it was his kindness that attracted me. That, and his chivalry."
Fleur's gaze drifted towards the distant Black Lake.
"The way he protected me and my sister... it was like something out of a storybook."
Her smile grew warmer as she remembered.
"I couldn't help it. I couldn't help falling for him."
Hermione looked down. She understood that feeling far better than she would have liked to admit.
Ben had always possessed an extraordinary ability to make the people around him feel safe. He could be reckless, infuriatingly confident, and occasionally so fond of showing off that Hermione wanted to smack him over the head with the nearest available book.
But beneath all of that was someone who truly cared. Someone who would go to extraordinary lengths to help another person. It was one of the things she loved most about him. And apparently, she wasn't the only one who had noticed.
"But beyond that," Fleur continued, "there is also another reason."
Hermione looked up. Fleur observed her for a moment.
"What do you know about Veela, Ms Granger?"
Hermione frowned, somewhat surprised by the sudden change of subject.
"Not much," she admitted. "I know that Veela are human-like magical beings who appear as young, beautiful women. And that they possess the ability to charm people with their innate magic."
Fleur nodded.
"Close. It's not so much an ability as a trait."
She folded her hands in front of her.
"You see, whenever their emotions spike, whenever they feel happy or excited, Veela naturally release a mixture of pheromones and magic from their bodies. This causes most people who are attracted to women to experience a hypnotic, blissful blankness that compels them to do foolish things to gain the attention of, or impress, the Veela."
Hermione remembered the Veela who had performed at the Quidditch World Cup. She had seen the effect they had on the spectators, including otherwise perfectly sensible people who had suddenly behaved like complete idiots.
"It is an involuntary response," Fleur continued. "And it takes decades of the most stringent Occlumency practices for Veela to learn how to control their instincts."
Her expression grew more subdued.
"But in the meantime, most Veela are left wondering whether those who profess their love for them do so because of who they are... or because of what they are."
Hermione's expression slowly changed. She had never considered the matter from that perspective.
"My grandmother is a Veela," Fleur explained. "Before I started my fourth year at Beauxbatons, she warned me about what I would soon have to go through. The same thing that she had experienced, and my mother after her."
Fleur looked straight at Hermione.
"You say that I am probably the most beautiful woman you have ever met. But this beauty is as much a curse as it is a gift."
There was no bitterness in her voice, merely a quiet resignation that made Hermione suspect she had come to terms with the reality of her heritage long ago.
"That is the other reason why I was attracted to Ben. He seems to be one of those rare few people who are naturally immune to Veela charm."
Fleur's expression softened.
"With him, I don't have to guess. If he compliments me, helps me or smiles at me, I know it's because he wants to, and not because he is being forced to by my magic."
She paused, allowing the significance of her words to settle.
"You have no idea how rare and fortunate that is for someone like me."
Hermione looked at her in silence. To her, Ben's immunity to Veela charm was just another one of his remarkable abilities. To Fleur, however, it meant that she could be certain Ben's kindness was genuine. She began to understand why that might matter so much to someone like Fleur.
"Once again, I apologise for the trouble I have caused you," Fleur said quietly, then offered Hermione a small, almost rueful smile. "But the heart wants what the heart wants."
With that, she turned and began walking away. Hermione watched her take a few steps before Fleur suddenly stopped.
"Oh, by the way..." She turned around again. "Do you know where Ben is? I have not seen him for months, and no one else seems to know either."
Hermione's expression became complicated.
"I don't know exactly where he is..." She paused. "...but I do know that he is out there helping someone in need."
Fleur smiled.
"That does sound like him." Her expression was warm and sincere. "Thank you, Ms Granger, and good night."
She turned and began walking towards the carriage once more.
Hermione watched her departing figure. Her thoughts were still complicated, but something had slowly changed. She no longer felt the same bitterness that had accompanied every thought of Fleur for the past three months.
She still wasn't comfortable with the idea of another woman loving Ben. She doubted she ever would be. But Fleur hadn't tried to diminish what Hermione and Ben shared. She hadn't demanded that Hermione step aside, nor had she pretended that her own feelings were more important. She had simply been honest.
And perhaps Hermione could offer her a little honesty in return.
"You can call me Hermione."
Fleur stopped and turned around. For a brief moment, she looked actually surprised. Then a brilliant smile spread across her face. She nodded.
"Good night, Hermione."
This time, Fleur turned and continued towards the Beauxbatons carriage without looking back.
Hermione watched her go. She could have sworn there was an added spring in Fleur's footsteps, as though the French witch had just scored some small but meaningful victory.
Perhaps she had. Hermione wasn't entirely certain. What she did know was that she no longer wanted to hold on to the resentment that had been festering inside her for the past three months. It was a corrosive, exhausting thing. A burden that had gradually drained the joy from her days and left her feeling perpetually weary. And she was tired of carrying it.
Now, after speaking with Fleur, she finally felt ready to let it go.
That didn't mean that she had suddenly become comfortable with the idea of sharing Ben's affection. And it certainly didn't mean that she and Fleur had become friends. But perhaps they no longer had to be enemies, either. And for now, that was enough.
Hermione drew a long, deep breath. The cool evening air filled her lungs, and as she slowly exhaled, she realised that she felt lighter than she had in months.
Fleur had been right about one thing. The heart wants what the heart wants. And Hermione knew exactly what hers wanted.
Whatever Ben chose, whatever the future held for them, she would not allow fear or jealousy to dictate how she treated the person she loved. She would tell him how she felt, and she would trust him to make his own decision.
Because, whatever happened, her heart would always belong to him. And whatever choice he made, she would always love him.
With that thought, Hermione turned and began walking back towards the castle, feeling a little more at peace with herself than she had in a long time.
----
[Sorry about the recent lapses in upload, guys. High School Mid-terms are about to start and I'm really busy helping my students prepare. I'll try to make up for them later. Hope y'all understand.]