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The last thing Hermione wanted for today was for Ronald to barge into the library, and exclaim how he had a date for Yule ball before her. She rolled her eyes in response, dropped her quill, and slammed her diary before rising from her seat to facing the annoying disturbance. She glanced at her companion—well, not companion, the veela just happened to choose the seat in front of her—she didn’t think too much of it (with the ample sunlight coming from the windows, it is the best place to read anyway). She tried not to dwell on the way the sunlight contouring the veela’s sharp features.
“Hey.”
The way her eyes are enlarged as a sea slowly encapsulates the whole world. And her eyelashes flickering against the sunlight.
“Hermione.”
Her eyes are so blue like the sea at dawn, just after a strong rain. It's so peaceful and yet as robust.
“Hey!”
“Oh.” Ron was here.
“What are you looking at—“
“Who accepted you?” Hermoine interjects.
“Now, why would you word it like that” Ron scoffs indignantly although a smirk already creeps its way onto his lips. Hermoine hears a movement behind her but tried to focus on Ron.
“Ugh. Then: Who did you ask?”
“Well, it's just— hey isn’t that your diary?”
Hermoine now registers the cold cackling of heels and shadow inching across their bodies, a blue figure walking past Ron like a blur. As Fleur walks a good foot away from them, her blue diary atop the decrepit books greets her tauntingly. Like a fire alarm sounding inside her, her eyes widen and she looked at Ron for help. However, the redhead just chuckled at the mess blanketing the table they shared.
“Your tables’ messy that’s why.”
After asking around, no, she still couldn’t find the blue-eyed veela. And Ron is certainly not helping. “Let’s take a break” Ron suggested. “We just started. You go on, I’ll look for her myself.” Hermione started to walk away, knowing Ron would rather slack the whole day off. “We can continue tomorrow!” Ron supplied. “Until she reads it?” She grumbled under her breath. “Oh… wait, did you write about your crush on her in that diary.” Hermoine’s glare was enough to send him away.
It’s not her fault. Fleur was just so attractive, smart, perfect, and heavenly. Everyone was bound to fall for her with or without her thrall. There’s just something about her grace and hidden aggressiveness that everyone seems to gravitate to. That’s why Hermione convinced herself it’s only natural to feel this way. But one thing that she doesn’t share with everyone regarding Fleur—aside from her admiration beyond her looks—is: they don’t write their admirations about her on a diary, and let her hands on it! Hermione sighed in resignation as she plops herself on her bed. Today proved to be unfruitful. Not only did she not get a single glimpse of the blonde beauty, but she already feels this nagging feeling that the veela have already had a peek inside her diary. She kicked her feet above irately and when she was tired, she dropped them back on her bed. However, she felt a paper crunch against her soles.
She peered down and saw a crumpled yellow sticky note reflecting against the moonlight. She swiped it rapidly, she could almost feel her spine crack at the sudden force.
“Bonjour Mon cher, You may have already known, but your journal is currently in my possession. I could not find you for the rest of day. Par consequent, the note. I will be vaiting for you tonight in the Beaubaxton’s coaches. – Fleur”
Hermione instantly glanced at the clock. It’s only half an hour before the curfew. She briskly sprung up and ran down, across her friends in the common room sending her questioning glances.
Hermione played different scenarios in her head. Prepared for an apology in the event Fleur had read it; prepared for a veiled nonchalance in the event that Fleur rejected her; prepared for a quick thank you and run back to her room without looking back, in the event that Fleur would just hand it back to her without saying. She shook her head fearing every possibility that configured inside her head.
What she didn’t expect was Fleur greeting her in a warm embrace and rambling beside her ear that she couldn’t register anything she said.
“Fleur—“
“Et tu es si jolie— O’ pardon ‘ermione. I vas just.” Unable to finish her statement, Fleur just sighed heavily and released Hermione from her hold. Then their eyes met.
A sweet silence fell upon them. Hermione could not think of anything as blue eyes held her captive unable to think of anything aside from the blue eyes that penetrate through her. The splinters of black dancing around the blue, the black pupil seemingly expanding as time passes. A collective chuckle behind the blonde broke them for their momentary stupor. Fleur coughed and raised the blue diary to her chest.
“As I vas saying. First, pardon. I ‘ave read your book without knowing its content, and it vas too late before I realized it vasn’t one of the biographies I borroved—”
Hermione felt her cheeks warm as Fleur continues her speech. The otherwise cold night, was now warm beyond control and she could no longer process what the veela was saying. She could only tuck her chin in shame. So much for planning.
“And, I just like you so much.”
Hermione stared back at her, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. The veela is smiling warmly at her. She heard her own breath hitch seeing the view in front of her. As if the moonlight gave birth to Fleur, hugging her with its light. She is still unable to think, unfortunately.
“I’ve been ‘oping to talk to you for a while. And today vas the first time I ‘ad the courage to sit in front of you after staring at you for weeks… And now, you’re ‘ere.”
Like a light bulb flicking open, Hermione finally understood everything she said. Merlin. Fleur likes her too.
Drenching on warm water of realization, Hermione beams, and chuckles to herself. She ducks her head unable to contain the elation, until the scent of vanilla invades her senses, long arms encircling around her. Fleur tucked her under her chin.
“Vould you go to the Yule ball vith me ma chérie?”
Hermione didn’t reply back, she only raised her arms to the veela’s neck and tugged her closer to her body. Maybe this wasn’t the best confession—she didn’t even plan to confess—but she couldn’t deny, losing her diary was one of the most memorable things that happened in her days in Hogwarts. Especially when it was what led to her caressing the blonde's hair first thing in the morning years later.