A/N Here I am again, I somehow managed to live up to my deadline. My exams are once again behind me - I keep getting loads of inspiration while I should study - and hopefully the results will be acceptable.

I won't be making any promises as to when I will update again, as I am currently facing one of the biggest challenges of this fic to date: the second task. As of yet I have no clue how to write it, I had several ideas but they all proved to be ridiculous over time so... we'll see. Ideas are always welcome.

If you have time, please leave a review, they make my day!

My gratitude goes - as always - out to Peeves' Best Friend and xtonguetied, for some reason, they are still sticking with me and pulling me through the mess that is my fanfiction.

Thank you for reading and I hope you'll enjoy it.

FLEUR DE LA MER

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: BOYS WILL BE BOYS

RON (Gryffindor Common Room, Sunday January 4th, 2:22pm )

On the very last day of the Christmas break, the Common Room was filled with people lazily hanging in the armchairs or the long couches, desperately trying to enjoy the last seconds of doing absolutely nothing of importance. Every once in a while the portrait would open and people would run in and out because Merlin knew why. It was chaotic and noisy, just like the Gryffindor Common room was supposed to be.

Parvati and Lavender were in the middle of loudly discussing the newest gossip spread by Witch Weekly, when they were suddenly rudely interrupted by another one of Ron's infamous Exploding Snap sessions. And once again, Harry was losing to him.

"You know mate," Harry said while he tried to extinguish one of his eyebrows, "this game is pure bollocks."

"You just say that cause you suck at it." Ron laughed loudly before he started shuffling the deck again for a new round. He simply loved how Harry's eyes would grow wide in admiration every time he niftily - somehow without mucking up - shuffled the deck at a high speed. Ronald Weasley might not be the brightest of the bunch, but he sure was good at games, he thought with certain pride.

"Do you need me to explain the rules again?" Ron asked mockingly while he eyed his best mate at the other side of the small coffee table. They were sitting on the thick Persian carpet on the ground in front of the happily burning fire.

"Please don't." Harry muttered, "I really should have gotten it by now."

"You sure?" Ron cocked an eyebrow. "I mean, your hair is starting to look just like Diggory's new haircut."

"You know, Cho actually cut that." Harry objected and Ron laughed at his friend's miserable looking face. It was no secret that Harry liked the Ravenclaw, even though Ron truly couldn't understand what was so special about that tiny Asian girl. She was not his taste at all.

"Well you sure can see she did it the muggle way." Ron mocked "They should ban those cutting-thingies, instead of whatever Filch finds dangerous."

"You mean scissors?" Harry asked, while he went with his hand through his hair, it couldn't be that bad, could it?

"Sure, those." Ron shrugged and started dividing the cards but then Ginny dropped a heavy book in the middle of the table.

"Oh come on!" Ron groaned in frustration. "Can't you see we're busy?"

"No, Ronald." Ginny sighed. "I'm busy, you're just playing some game."

Ron could feel his ears heating up, but instead of looking for a fight with his little sister - she would find a way to win anyways, she was getting too smart for her own good - he just picked the book up from the table and shoved it into her hands. "Take that back to the library where it belongs, would you?" He snarled and then returned his attention to the deck of cards, he was in far too good a mood to let Ginny rile him up.

"I would," Ginny rolled her eyes "if it was a library book. But it isn't."

"What?" Ron eyed the dusty old tome in her hands. "It can't be yours, you don't read."

"For your information, I do read." Ginny scowled at her brother and Harry had difficulty trying not to laugh at the typical Weasley-sibling-interaction. "But you're right, it's not mine, it's Hermione's. Have you seen her?"

At the mention of Hermione's name, Ron's face instantly grew dark.

"We haven't." Harry said quickly before Ron could spit out something nasty and Ginny would, in all probability, unleash some Weasley-anger. "She went out this morning and hasn't returned, I would just bring the book to her dormitory."

"She doesn't want me to do that." Ginny shrugged again and continued in a mock Hermione voice "one doesn't shove books under one's pillow, Ginevra. I just thought that would be an Hermione thing to do but I was wrong. Ever since then I need to personally hand the book to her if I want to keep borrowing books from her."

"Who cares about Hermione." Ron grumbled, "She's probably just around Delacour anyways."

"Are you still on about that?" Ginny shook her head with a mocking smile. "You should just get over yourself."

"He's right though," Harry interjected quickly, "you should check the carriage."

"I should, shouldn't I." Ginny tilted her head and wiggled her eyebrows in annoyance. "Ugh. That means ploughing through snow and those French bitches probably won't even let me enter."

"Désolée!" Ginny continued in horrible French and spoke "Zies ies only for Beauxbatons stud-ents. I am afraid you wiell 'ave to go." She shrugged. "It's a miracle how Hermione survives in there."

And in a flash of red hair Ginny turned around and left Ron staring angrily at his balled up fists.

"Are you really still mad about Hermione and Fleur, mate?" Harry asked hesitantly.

Ron hadn't spoken much about the whole ordeal ever since he found out it was in fact true - unlike what he had claimed - he had been ignoring Hermione ever since and refused to even sit with her during dinner.

It wasn't that he objected to two girls being together - yeah, it was something he needed to get used to but it wasn't like the world was ending just because two girls fancied each other - no, it was that it was about Hermione. It was hard to admit, but maybe somewhere in the back of his head Ron had sort of hoped that he and the bushy haired girl would end up together. She was the only girl who wasn't blood-related to ever show any interest in him, and somewhere during his drooling sessions over Delacour he had apparently missed the boat.

And quite frankly, that was the worst of it. Hermione wasn't just dating any girl, no, she was dating Fleur Delacour. The witch who had been haunting his dreams for weeks now. If only Hermione would be dating some Hufflepuff girl or something, all problems would be resolved. Instead, she went straight for what he could never get.

"I don't know, mate." Ron sighed and shook his head. "This just isn't what I expected, you know."

Harry smiled in sympathy. "Look." He said. "I know it's not easy, it hasn't been easy for me either, but this is Hermione we are talking about. She's been our best friend ever since that troll, remember?"

"If only she was dating a troll." Ron grumbled. "No, she picks the most dauntingly beautiful witch I've ever seen."

"It's not like she can choose who she falls in love with, Ron." Harry shook his head and looked at his best friend before continuing. "Fleur is alright, you should give it a shot."

"Maybe I don't want to give it a shot." Ron said bitterly. "Ever thought about that?"

"You should, mate." Harry said quietly and his eyes followed the person whom had just stepped through the portrait. Hermione hesitantly walked over to the coffee table and dropped down on the carpet beside Harry before taking her scarf off.

"Hey Harry." She said happily and then turned her attention to Ron. "Hi Ron..." She spoke a bit fidgety. "How are you?"

"You know what?" Ron spoke loudly whilst completely ignoring Hermione. "I'm done playing Exploding Snap. I'm going to see if Dean wants to go throw dungbombs at some firsties."

"Alright.." Harry said hesitantly, but Ron ignored the clear accusation in Harry's voice and pushed himself up. He walked away without giving Hermione an ounce of attention.

"He'll turn around." Ron heard Harry say. But if he was honest, Ron wasn't too sure.

FLEUR (Her room in the Carriage, 4:37pm)

"And thus, if you apply but a tiny change to your equation, you'll reach an entirely different spell!" Hermione finished almost out of breath in excitement.

She was sitting cross-legged on Fleur's bed, with her favourite Christmas gift opened up in her lap: The Beginner's Guide to Basic Spell Creation. It had been a rather late gift from her girlfriend - who got it for her during their trip to Hogsmeade -the same girlfriend who was now lazily laying next to her on the bed.

"What?" Hermione exclaimed when she noticed Fleur fondly eyeing her sideways "What are you looking at me for, now?"

"You are such a dork." Fleur laughed lightly and pushed herself upwards while slipping her arms around Hermione from behind. She rested her head against that of Hermione while the girl tried to squirm out of her arms out of protest.

"I am not a dork!" Hermione protested weakly, but gave up squirming shortly after that and settled into Fleur's arms while at the same time still balancing the book in her lap.

"Okay maybe just a little." She then admitted when Fleur remained in a somewhat happy silence.

All Fleur did in response was cock an eyebrow and then started to softly kiss Hermione in the crook of her neck. When Hermione's hand reached up to caress Fleur's head, the blonde stopped to enjoy the simple touch of her girlfriend. Fleur's nose was now pressed lightly against Hermione's neck and she had trouble keeping in a smile. If only they had more moments like these.

"You know." Hermione dropped her hand beside her and Fleur groaned in protest "It all really depends on what your definition is of the word dork."

"Do we really need to 'ave a discussion on ze definition of ze word dork?" Fleur muttered and let go of Hermione to fall back onto the bed.

"No..." Hermione spoke softly, before she closed the book in her lap, carefully placed it onto Fleur's bedside table and then nuzzled beside the older girl who slipped an arm around Hermione's shoulders to draw her nearer.

They laid together in silence and Fleur was so comfortable, she was actually close to falling asleep. It must be her smell, Fleur figured, and her warmth. And just like... all of her. She smiled and kissed the side of Hermione's head as the girl's arm slipped around Fleur's waist so she could hold her girlfriend even tighter.

"Do you really think I'm a dork?" Hermione ask with a tiny voice.

And for the first time Fleur realised that Hermione might considered it actually offensive. Now that she thought about it, the brown-haired girl was known as a bookworm, as a know-it-all. And it probably didn't matter that Fleur thought it the most adorable thing ever, because they both knew how much whispers could hurt.

"Of course not." Fleur whispered. "And even if you were, you would be a very cute dork. A very cute dork zat I like very, very much."

And with that, the discussion was pretty much over.

They'd been having a lot of these moments lately. Where Hermione would come over to Fleur's quarters, arms filled with books, parchment and quills. She would install herself on Fleur's bed. Fleur would simply laugh, and go off to make some tea for the Brit and would then let the fourth year do homework in the middle of a holiday all the while trying to keep her eyes off her.

Which was about as impossible as it could get in a world filled with impossibilities. Of course, it wouldn't take long before Fleur would start to distract Hermione with light kisses in the crook of her neck, slowly but surely making her way to the girl's lips.

Hermione would then sigh in exasperation, smile, close every book she had and let Fleur fill all the attention she could muster. After a while, they would just lie on the bed again, enjoying each other's closeness.

Like they were doing right now, really.

"What happened to your egg?" Hermione asked after her eyes found focus on the golden egg unceremoniously dumped in a corner of the room. The slowly diminishing sunlight revealed scratches and bumps all over it. Almost as if Fleur had been using it as a football or something.

"I may 'ave dropped it off ze stairs a few times." Fleur grinned. "I 'ave never 'ated an object as much as I 'ave 'ated zat egg."

"Harry has been having issues with it too." Hermione nodded compassionately "He says he figured it out but I somehow doubt it."

"Oh!" Fleur exclaimed and detangled her arms from around Hermione "But I 'ave figured it out already! Ages ago!"

"Really?" Hermione teasingly cocked an eyebrow.

"Of course!" Fleur spoke slightly insulted. "Before ze Yule Ball even."

Hermione pushed herself up so she could stare at Fleur's scowling face. She tilted her head and her eyes had this teasing sparkle when she continued "Since when are you so smart?"

"Oh!"

Instantly Fleur threw her arms around Hermione and flipped her over so that she was pinning the girl down. Her blond hair fell beside her face and when she looked into Hermione's brown eyes, Fleur's breath hitched. Slowly she reached forward and gently pressed her lips against Hermione's.

She could almost feel her face glow as she felt Hermione smile against her.

The day couldn't get much better than this.

HARRY (Some classroom on the third floor, Wednesday January 6th, 3.31pm)

Harry never thought he would have said it, but he found a gigantic golden egg depressing. For the better part of the time since the first task, he had simply ignored its existence, and he had been completely fine with it. The second task was still months away and no matter how he had looked at it, there had been more than enough time. Unfortunately, now that Christmas had passed - and New Years - February 23rd was suddenly eerily close.

And it didn't help that Diggory had apparently solved his egg already, with him handing out tips left and right. Well, just to him, Harry supposed. As payback for Harry telling him about the dragons. But nonetheless, no matter how much Harry thought the Hufflepuff golden boy was all in all an okay guy, the golden boy knew what awaited him during the second task and Harry didn't.

So after some glaring looks from Hermione - they both knew she didn't believe him when he told her he had already figured it out - he had dug up the golden disaster from his trunk, set it down on his bed, opened it... and then he'd gotten thrown out of the Gryffindor tower by Fred and George.

Clearly, the egg wasn't welcome there.

And that explained why he was sitting in an out-of-order classroom on the third floor. It was cold in here, the house elves hadn't bothered with lighting the fire because no one was supposed to be here anyway after Peeves had somehow routed all the water from the lavatories on the third floor through this particular classroom. Harry sighed, there was still some toilet paper hanging from the ceiling and a leftover puddle of water in the far right corner.

Harry mustered up his courage, took out his wand and then gave the egg a small tap on the top. Naturally, nothing happened.

He sighed, he knew what he had to do next and he absolutely dreaded it. He stuffed his wand in his back pocket again, gave one last hopeless look at the egg and then opened it.

Instantly, the wailing, screeching sound filled the empty classroom with the decibel volume of the hard rock concert that he had once been dragged to by the Dursleys whom - except for Dudley who wanted to go - had been about as happy about it all as Harry had been.

As quickly as he had opened it, he closed it up again. This whole plan of action was absolutely useless.

"Maybe you're supposed to scream back?" Ron put forth from the doorstep and Harry turned around in surprise.

"How long have you been here, mate?" Harry asked a bit flustered, but then he remembered Ron probably didn't care that he had been putting off figuring out the egg's secret.

"From about when you opened up the egg." Ron grinned and closed the door behind him when he entered. He was holding the Marauder's map in his left hand and Harry instantly realised how Ron had found him. "You forgot to take this with you, mate." Ron waved the parchment around. "And I didn't feel like staying in the tower after Hermione returned from the library."

Harry eyed him in disappointment - this whole feud between them was getting a bit old - but then simply shrugged and returned his focus on the egg. "You really think I should scream back at it?"

"Well it is trying to tell you something, isn't it?" Ron scratched his chin. There had been one tiny red hair on his chin this morning and he had been feeling rather proud about it. "It's just looking for a way to communicate."

"Mate." Harry frowned "I don't think screaming back is the answer though."

"Well you don't know 'till you try, right?"

Harry grimaced while he looked back to the egg on the dusty old desk on which he had placed it. The object had titled a bit and was now leaning more towards the left than to the right.

He opened his mouth and took a deep breath, ready to scream back. Then he figured how ridiculous he looked, glared at Ron and spoke: "You almost had me there, mate."

Ron sniggered: "I actually did think it was a good suggestion."

"Whatever." Harry shrugged. "I'm not screaming at a bloody egg."

"Alright." Ron laughed and hopped on the desk on which the egg was still resting, it started wiggling a bit and Ron quickly grabbed it to make sure it wouldn't fall over the edge. "You're going to have to figure it out somehow though. And preferably soon."

"Tell me about it." Harry scowled, "Maybe I should listen to Diggory and just go take a bath with it."

"Wait... Golden Boy suggested what?" Ron's eyes widened. "And you think screaming at the egg is a bad idea?"

"Well I am sort of running out of options here, Ron." Harry wrinkled his nose in distaste when he picked up the egg.

"You have tried like two things..." Ron pointed out.

"And those two things were the best I could come up with!"

"How the Goblet ever selected you as a champion, I'll never know." Ron shook his head, "It's a small miracle you survived that dragon, and now you'll get beaten by an egg."

"If you don't watch out, you'll get beaten by an egg." Harry growled.

"As if you could." Ron sniggered, and Harry laughed while he stuffed the egg in the green old bag he had nicked off Hermione.

"So you'll go take a bath with an egg?" Ron asked as they walked back to the tower.

"Looks like it." Harry spoke. "Let's not mention that to anyone though."

"You got it, mate." Ron laughed again "You got it."

FLEUR (The Carriage, Friday January 9, 8:43 pm)

"I am not touching that." Jacques Gaillard spit out as he pointed towards a particularly filthy brown part underneath the far left wheel of the Carriage.

"I am afraid you will be." Madame Maxime spoke curtly. "It is either this or I'll let you clean the Hogwarts' Owlery. I'm sure Professor McGonagall would be very happy if I suggested that you two wanted to clean it."

"This is work for a house elf." Gaillard muttered but after seeing Maxime's murderous glare he then reached, defeated, towards the scrubber and the bucket of water.

"You should have thought about that before you decided to throw curses at each other." Maxime shrugged and crossed her arms while watching as both Fleur and Gaillard continued to scrub the Carriage clean.

"Oui, Madame." Fleur simply said. She had suffered through more than her share of detentions to know that it was a lot easier to just accept your faith and get on with it.

Gaillard on the other hand, tended to weasel his way through most detentions without ever having to do anything. Fleur just assumed his father had something to do with that, but even he hadn't been able to stop this one.

"I am a wizard." Gaillard muttered under his breath when Maxime had turned around and walked away - but not before wishing them a happy detention and warning them to play nice or else.

"Really?" Fleur snorted while deciding whether or not to use her fingernail to scratch away some particularly difficult dirty spot. She grimaced and then decided not to. Who knew what it was. "I didn't know you were, Gaillard, with you going to a wizarding school and all."

He shot her a nasty glare and then continued to wipe away some mud "Very funny." He bit. "I am a wizard, yet we have to clean this the muggle way. You don't find that insulting?"

"It's a detention, chéri, it's supposed to be insulting." Fleur just shrugged.

"Don't call me that." Gaillard spit and took off his expensive looking jacket.

Fleur grinned, he should have known after last time that wearing expensive clothing to one of Maxime's angry detentions wasn't the way to go. Last time, they had cleaned the Thespian horses' improvised stable, and it had been about as disgusting as this job.

The thing was, Fleur didn't care that she had to clean up a bit all over the place. She was used to Maxime's detentions. Nothing was worse than having to completely rearrange Beauxbatons' student files without using magic, after a particularly nasty explosion in that side of the caste - Inès fault, not Fleur's - had messed them all up.

So really, having to non-magically scrub the carriage clean was completely fine by her. Although, she didn't want to know what certain of these spots were.

"Any idea how long we will have to keep doing this denigrating work?" Gaillard asked, breaking the silence. Fleur had noticed that he got really uncomfortable in silence. It was funny for a pureblood who seemed so immensely confident in his ways that he would grow so fidgety when no one would speak.

"Didn't she give you the indefinitely-speech?" Fleur laughed and threw another bucket of water against the Carriage. The water had little to no effect.

"Nothing can last indefinitely." Gaillard shrugged and with a flick of his wand filled up the bucket of water again. "What?" He eyed her. "She didn't say anything about using magic to get water. Just that we had to wash it the muggle way."

"Good point." Fleur admitted. "And my last indefinite detention lasted about two months."

"Great." Gaillard muttered. "Just great."

Maybe in another lifetime they could have been friends even. It wasn't like the pureblood was stupid. No, he was rather smart and could be very witty when it came to it. Not only that but he had been close to winning from Fleur in their little sparring session. Unfortunately, life had chosen a different path.

They worked together in silence and slowly but surely the Carriage started to look a bit more clean. Night had fallen hours ago and by now it was freezing outside, and the lit torches helped almost as much as one entire firefly in the sky. Fleur's fingers had almost no feeling left in them as she once more stuck the sponge into the bucket of water and went over the Carriage wheel.

"Next time," She muttered and ignored the clattering of her teeth, "next time we find it necessary to try and kill each other, let's do it off grounds."

"Yes please." Gaillard chuckled lightly, then looked at her sideways, cocked an eyebrow and threw away the sponge in his hands. "I'm done. If she wants it more clean, she can ask a house elf."

"Me too." Fleur grinned, it's not like they could see the filth in the current darkness.

They clumsily gathered the cleaning materials and headed inside the warm Carriage.

The common hall of the Beauxbatons carriage was completely empty and a quick glance by Fleur at the clock informed her that it was already past two in the morning. She groaned and walked over to a couch by the still smouldering fire. She dropped down on it and closed her eyes almost immediately, ignoring her painful muscles to the best of her abilities.

"Here." She heard and peeked through her eyelids to see Gaillard shoving a glass of Firewhiskey into her hands.

"To warm up," he shrugged and took a sip of his own glass before sitting down in an armchair next to the couch on which she had crashed.

She eyed the glass in her hands conspicuously and sniffed it, doubting the safety of the drink. But Gaillard just rolled his eyes and after a few more seconds Fleur decided it was probably alright and gulped it all down. Almost immediately she could feel the warmth spread through her body.

"I don't understand you at all, Gaillard." Fleur murmured with her eyes closed. "You seem to hate me, yet you offer me a drink."

"If I hated you, would I have asked you to come with me to the Yule Ball?" His voice sounded strangely tired, as if Fleur kept asking the wrong questions.

Her eyes instantly flew open. She had almost completely forgotten how this had all started - with her rejecting him on the way to Hogwarts; merde.

"Why did you?" Fleur asked hesitantly, "I'm a half-breed, remember?"

"Serieux, Delacour, why do you think?" Gaillard sighed mockingly. "As if I really cared for the whole part-Veela situation you got going on. Have you seen you? Not just that but you do belong to an old family. You really weren't a bad catch and quite frankly, neither was I for you." He shook his head bitterly. "But then you go off and start dating not just a girl, but a muggleborn girl. It's just one big insult."

Suddenly he threw his near empty glass into the fire and Fleur knew it would start to crack pretty soon after. The flames raged up again thanks to the leftover alcohol and in her fascination for the fire, Fleur missed him standing up and walking away.

RON (Gryffindor Common Room, Saturday 10, 05:01 pm)

It was hopeless, absolutely hopeless, Ron thought. With one hand he supported his defeated head and his other hand crumbled up his latest attempt at something supposed to resemble an essay on Unicorns: biotope and life assigned by Hagrid's rather unexpected - but in retrospect not surprising - temporary replacement Professor Grubbly-Plank. That Care of Magical Creatures would ever be difficult was not something Ron had seen coming.

Normally, he'd have Harry's help struggling through the mountains of words and battling tons of information in the vague hope of getting something that might be educationally relevant, but his best mate had gone off flying after Oliver Wood had sent a letter in which he had announced that this ruddy tournament should never be a reason to stop practicing Quidditch.

It didn't matter that there was a storm happening outside - again - or that it had been raining down snow non-stop ever since the Yule Ball, Wood wanted Harry to practice so off Harry went, leaving him alone to try and do homework. And when he asked Dean and Seamus for some help, they had laughed.

"No mate, we'll just write that tonight, the girls asked us to come along and have some tea." Seamus had shrugged and off they had gone.

That only left Neville, but for some strange reason Longbottom had already written his essay this morning and after having read it, it was a surprisingly good one. Ron had eyed it suspiciously and had handed it back to Neville after asking if Hermione had helped him write it.

The chubby boy had simply nodded and started to walk away, but not before suggesting to Ron that he should ask for Hermione's help too.

As if.

Ron snorted loudly before grabbing a new piece of parchment, dibbing his quill in his near-empty pot of ink and writing down the title of the essay for the fourth time this afternoon. Then he stared as the ink started to dry.

"Do you need any help?"

Ron almost jumped up at the voice he recognized as Hermione's - who of course had to show up just as he was thinking about her - but then suppressed the urge to look at her and just sneered: "Not from you I don't."

From the corner of his eye he noticed her shuffling nervously, but instead of telling her to piss off - like he wanted to - he started plucking at his quill. The tiny feather-particles whirled down onto he piece of parchment into the not yet dried-up ink from his title.

"Do you want to copy mine?" the girl said in a tiny voice and Ron's eyes widened in shock. Hermione had never - not once - given up her essays willingly so they could be copied. She only would after he and Harry had begged her for hours on end, and even then she would only do so begrudgingly.

Not knowing what to do, he remained silent until she dropped into the chair next to his.

"Can't you just leave me alone?" Ron mumbled, as she took the quill out of his hands.

"No." She sighed tiredly. "I can't."

"Why not?" He asked then and for the first time his eyes met hers.

"Because you are my friend, Ron." Hermione spoke softly, "Because I miss you."

"Well, I don't miss you." He laughed bitterly.

"You don't mean that." She shrugged and Ron almost sneered at her refusal to accept his anger.

"I do." He bit, but her eyes stared at him with what only could be described as pity, and he didn't want her pity.

"I do." He repeated, as if to convince himself.

The thing was, he did miss Hermione. Hermione was just as much his best mate as Harry was. They'd had their fights of course, it's not like last year had been such a good one for the two of them, but when push came to shove, they always made up. When push came to shove, she would be there for him.

Ron closed his eyes as he recalled a memory from last year, when he had been staring at the Hospital Wing's ceiling in disbelief over his pet rat. It wasn't Harry who had sat beside him and it wasn't Harry who had hugged him and told him everything that had happened the night before wasn't his fault.

"Ron..." Hermione started.

"Leave it." He shook his head, "it's fine."

"What is fine?" She asked all confused.

"You and Delacour." He spoke hesitantly. "Look, I'm not saying I don't need to get used to it, I mean, it's you, and Delacour, and..." He scratched his chin. "Look, just give me time. I promise I'll try not to behave like a prick, but please just give me time."

"I can do that." She smiled radiantly, and he couldn't help but give her a tiny smile back, in response, she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. He buried his face into her curls as he hesitantly hugged her back.

"Can I please copy your essay now?" He whispered.

"Ronald!" She exclaimed and let go of him, but started laughing as she saw the teasing look in his eyes.

"What?" Ron spoke with a grin. "You offered."