Contrary to popular belief, i am still here. New story, i might even update it. Holidays are coming up if that is any indication of free time. I might even update my old stuff, who knows. This hasn't been beta'd or really read over more than once. If the mistakes are there then they're there, don't fret. A misplaced comma won't impregnate you.

disclaimer: the cool kids don't admit failure.

--

The spoon had made thirteen clockwise rotations within the bowl, slowly it was lifted from the murky liquid before being tipped to the side letting the broth fall back into the bowl. Hermione let out a soft sigh, allowing her free hand to support her head. It was not that she was alone, no it was far from that. Hermione sat on a busily chatting table in an even louder hall. A girl with a mop of flaming hair had been speaking to her animatedly for the past ten minutes, obviously too taken by her own words to notice Hermione's distance. A loud thump resonated to the left of the room, as a line of blue-clad girls in uniform began to walk – no, they were certainly not walking, their legs moved too swiftly, too lightly across the floor. The girls were most definitely gliding.

But Hermione didn't care for girls in blue, even ones that held an element of dance to their stride. Her eyes fell back to the soup, the spoon now submerged wholly into the concoction. It had been far too long since she felt any sort of appetite. Bouillabaisse? Hermione frowned into the soup, wondering momentarily if it had just spoken to her.

"Gorgeous." Suddenly broke her spell, the hall's buzz now becoming words and conversations around her. Blinking she looked up and noticed blue. The girl was looking down, a cleverly sloping hat concealing her face. A lilt chuckle began to reverberate and the hat moved, revealing the most perfectly shaped features Hermione had ever seen. Her breath caught in her throat as the girl in blue stopped her expression of amusement. Eyes - still twinkling in mirth met her own, two pale pink lips parting perfectly to reveal pearl-like teeth. Hermione became aware of thudding, deep, melodic thumps that began in her chest and echoed throughout her head. The girl continued to hold her gaze, shifting only slightly to push silver strands of hair away from her face.

"Blimey." Once again Hermione blinked. The gaze lost and a bowl of soup was gingerly passed from the rough fingers of the boy beside her. The girl thanked him with a swift nod and flicked her lips up in one more smile before turning around and retreating to the next table. The rest of the conversation was just as tuned out, but for far different reasons. When a boy with soft eyes and a messy black hair touched her arm in concern, her smile and reason was all too cliché. The library she spoke, and at once made her leave. The library however, was the furthest from her real destination.

The sky above the lake crackled in glee; flashes of white darting, sinking, falling into the lake in jagged patterns. Hermione stood under the cover of an oak tree, a bright red cloak wrapped firmly around her body. With the hood drawn she looked about to meet the wolf for a discussion about grandma, but Hermione knew that thoughts like that would not achieve anything. Keeping in mind that at Hogwarts, this wasn't that obscure of an idea. The rain, fell in an uneven drizzle, but charms were made for such situations and Hermione sat bone dry. The hood was eventually pulled back and tamed hair fell between smooth shoulders. Another thing that bothered the girl - the amount of attention that can be drawn with a little dental work and hair charms. The amount of friends that can be drawn with a little beauty.

Footsteps echoed behind her, crunching on thin leaves and treading them into the dirt. A green cloaked figure sat beside her, a soft hand seeking her own.

"Hello Draco." Hermione whispered, keeping her eyes trained on the night sky.

"Hermione." He replied, giving her hand a little squeeze.

"You didn't give me any signal at dinner, I just had to assume you lied to Potty." Hermione smiled at this, her eyes training on the boy beside her. He truly was handsome, it was ignorant of Ron and Harry to deny such things. Such perfect alabaster skin, sharply slicked back hair and dazzling eyes.

He reminded her of blue.

"I was a bit distracted." She finally replied, scooting closer to let a strong arm encompass her shoulders. Green and red fabrics overlapped, such a rarity in the old school's eyes and yet, it seemed to be a nightly thing between the two.

"Her name is Fleur." Draco drawled, a foreign accent taking over his pronunciation.

"What?" Hermione quipped, albeit a bit too quickly to carry the nonchalance she was hoping for.

"The girl, don't be silly. I know when my little lion sees a pretty bird." Draco's smile was languid and perfect, his eyes catching Hermione's in understanding. "You should go speak to her, she's in the library looking for you." Hermione visibly jumped. Draco chuckled and leant over to place a warm kiss on her cheek. She stood and said goodbye with her eyes, a hood was drawn once more, footsteps heavy down the path.

Draco leaned back and sighed, lips quivering from where they'd met her cheek.

"Fuck." He whispered, and as if the night understood, the wind grew a little quieter and the rain a little softer.

Hermione slunk through the library, the bookcases offering coverage from Madam Pince's gaze. There, by the door. Blue. The shadows that splayed up the walls in flame licked patterns, shrunk as she grew closer. Her hand fell on the small of a warm back, the figure spun. Eyes met once again, the gentle thud returned and a hand was forgotten on shapely hips.

"'ermione." She spoke. Fleur, flower. Hermione's mind reeled, the distance between them was growing smaller and the girl's scent peeled off her in waves of earthy charm. How beautiful she was, how her skin glowed under the dusky lamps of the library. Hermione's lips tilted in a smile that spoke more power than the most saintly of preachers.

How their bodies were pressed against one another, a red cloak pushed against musty tomes before pooling at her feet. As their heads tilted to the respective sides, and their lips grew closer – how her body tingled in ripples of bliss.

After the briefest of a touch, a light groan elicited from French lips.

And Hermione stood.

"What?" was whispered, the Frenchwoman continued to smile. The cloak still sat snugly around her back, her hand still on the hip.

"'ermione? Zat ees your name, non?" Fleur's eyebrow arched in curiosity, the girl before her's face registering a look of utter disbelief.

"It didn't happen." She whispered, her eyes downcast. Fleur continued to patiently wait, her own confusion masked by a veil of placid elegance.

"I apologise, I am not feeling the best." Her hand, long fallen from hips (was it there to begin with?) was suddenly taken by another.

"Unteel next time, oui?" A kiss was placed, and a tingle born.

Hermione watched in silence as a blue cloak spun, blonde hair spilling from a tight bun. The shadows upon the walls flickered, mocking her brief failure.

And how her heart beat, and how her breath hitched in rhythm.