Hermione watched it happen. Ron Weasley her own boyfriend was going goo-goo ga-ga for another girl right in front of her. In this case, a little French tart from Beauxbatons by the name of Fleur Delacour. It wasn’t just her own boyfriend who was obsessed with this girl he just met. All the boys from sweet angels like Harry to little bastards like Malfoy were looking at this total stranger new to Hogwarts who barely spoke English. One dumb girl was captivating them without even trying.

That made the current situation even stranger. The girl had invited Hermione to meet her alone in her dorm room one day. She didn’t know what she wanted, but against her better judgment, she planned on finding out. And she also had a few choice words for turning her man into an idiot.

She hadn’t expected what she found. Fleur was only wearing her underwear, a bra that barely covered her immense chest and a tiny little thong that left nothing to the imagination. Her long hair was pulled up into a ponytail with the shimmering side bangs covering her face making her look intriguing and alluring.

Folding her arms, Hermione shot daggers at her with her eyes not saying a word, wondering if this was some kind of sick joke. She was looking for the proper words to address her. Fleur just looked back at her with an angelic smile on her face. Hermione was about to snap.

But Fleur just turned away. Walking around the room and going about tidying things, like she was a good little girl. Going about in what barely passed for underwear, Hermione studied Fleur. The French girl from Beauxbatons seemed oblivious to how much the other girls were resenting her. Hermione was no different but in the back of her mind she couldn’t deny how radiant she seemed. That silvery blonde hair of hers seemed to shimmer wherever she went, but there was something else about her. She looked fetching enough, Hermione had seen her fair share of beautiful girls here at Hogwarts, Durmstrang, all over Europe, but there was something else about her too. A strange fascination, she seemed more than what she was, here she was at a school for wizards and surrounded by all kinds of strange creatures. Yet there was something about this girl that just glowed.

Hermione on the other hand had come dressed very conservatively. A pair of pants and a jacket, her long hair running free, she was normally secure enough in her appearance. But coming here and seeing the other girl looking equal parts stylish and like some streetwalker, she was feeling very jealous.

How could I think she’s being oblivious? Little bitch Phlegm knows exactly what she’s doing. I should get out of here before she tries anything really weird.

“‘Ermione.”

That snapped her out of her train of thought. Three years older than her, from inviting her here to blatantly wearing nothing at all, Fleur was flaunting her superiority over her. And even in just that one word, Hermione could hear her arrogance underneath, in general she had a high and mighty way of speaking. But hearing that voice addressed to her, saying her name in a cute sing-song manner, it made her feel like they were alone together. Even with how strong her accent was.

“What do you want Phlegm?”

“I just wanted to get to know you better. ‘Arry and Ron saved my sister so I figured we should be friends too.”

Friends. Right. More like frenemies. “Is that really all?”

Looking at her directly, Hermione had to question why anyone could be so taken by her. For Hermione’s strange weird fascination, Fleur seemed positively ordinary in spite of that. She had heard the French girl was a quarter Veela, maybe that was it. The otherworldly lineage coupled with her human bloodline did not water down anything, she still had that ethereal silver glow about her. If anything, it made her ordinary beauty look more bewitching and captivating, not an unattainable goddess you couldn’t have but a girl you could fall in love with.

Especially when she was all but naked. Fleur was already good looking enough, but right now in a little bra and panties that barely covered her up, Hermione was feeling the vapors. She had to look away from the Veela girl who was all but naked. Staring at her for so long, Hermione’s cheeks were getting flushed and heating up.

Why am I thinking like this? I’ve never felt that way towards other girls! I have to calm down. I came here all flustered and now I’m being ridiculous.

“Yes, I don’t really know anyone here,” Fleur said. “That’s why I thought we could start over. Okay?”

Hermione didn’t believe it for a second. But hearing her say that, she started to feel guilty for being so hostile with her. She remembered that Fleur invited her here and didn’t want to disappoint her. That thought didn’t seem odd to her. The only thing she wanted was to make this awkward tension go away.

Then she would leave.

“R-really?” Hermione finally said. Her voice didn’t sound like it normally did, weak and almost nervous.

Fleur was smiling at her. That smile on her face, it was as beautiful as ever despite Hermione not wanting to admit it. It looked so gentle and yet in the wake of current events, there was no doubting just how smug it was underneath. Guys enraptured by her wouldn’t care, while women would see her for what she was and wish they could have that power. Hermione just stared deep into her eyes.

Fleur walked over to her. Hermione was tempted to back away, to tell her to mind her distance. But that close, the way that Fleur looked at her, she found her anger fading away. That same beautiful face and that silvery aura, her eyes were almost glowing at her.

Focus! Don’t forget what kind of person she is! She’s Phlegm! She’s...

That thought faded when Fleur cupped her face. Fleur hadn’t asked Hermione a question when she said her name but she didn’t need to. That beautiful smile so gentle and sweet, Hermione could only think that deep down it was lined with a quiet malice. The type of girl she hated to admit looked good, was better than her at something. She wanted to believe that this French bitch was just another Draco, someone who belonged in Slytherin.

Thoughts only in the back of her head. Fleur was stroking Hermione’s mane of hair, caressing her long locks hanging free. Not pulling her hair, not making fun of her, just massaging her, appreciating her. All thoughts of seeing her as an enemy were quickly being scattered to the winds. And now in the lover’s position, Hermione was feeling very vain to receive such affections from someone she once saw as her worst enemy.

“Oh Fl-Fl...” Hermione said, the temptation to use her real name instead of Phlegm was just too great. She caught herself just in time and turned away with a blush. The words came out of her mouth before she realized it and instantly regretted it. That Veela allure was more of a spell than anything they taught in Hogwarts, more potent than the Dark Arts. But she still had enough awareness to realize what was going on.