I am so, so sorry for not updating. I will now continue with a good amount of chapters, promise. And thanks so much for all the other reviews!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THANK-YOU!

This is very inaccurate, (and short!) but just give me a bit of authors license.

Yes, OSUSprinks is to thank for this for this chapter. It is my poke, though in my defence, I was just going to start it fairly soon.

Chapter Five.

The Forbidden Forest.

It was snowing thick and fast; all the occupants of the castle were sitting in classes, concentrating on turning their matchsticks into needles or making their cushions fly into boxes – all but Olympe. She watched the snow falling. It was now impossible to see the closest shore of the lake. Would they still be able to go into Hogsmeade?

A big gust of wind hit the carriage; Olympe, muttering darkly about the English weather, went back to her cherry wood desk and sat down, sipping at a nice cup of Earl Grey tea, something she had become rather partial to since coming to England. When was it going to let up?

--

Hagrid picked the Bowtruckle up by it's arm and examined the spindly leg that was bleeding white pus sadly. "Well, mate, yer gonna take a load o' cleanin up, en't yer?"

The Bowtruckle just took a swipe at his fist with its sharp-clawed hand. Hagrid grinned at its show of bravado, but complained all the same. "Stay still, yeh ruddy thing, an' let me 'elp yer!"

Fang howled as a young Krupp, recently released form the pens outside because of the bad weather, sat it's spiky bottom on the dogs tail. Hagrid nearly dropped the Bowtruckle at such an unearthly noise. "Fang! Yeh'll wake the 'hole castle with tha' noise!"

Fang sniffed his tail apologetically, then nosed his hand into Hagrid's lap. "Ah, yeh're a real softie, en't yer, boy?" Hagrid said affectionately, fondling his behind the ears with the on free hand he had. The Bowtruckle was still glaring balefully at him through milky white eyes. "There's no need ter be like tha'," he admonished the Bowtruckle sternly, and proceeded to bandage the weeping wound.

A little over half an hour later and the Bowtruckle was happily reunited with others of it's king who were also convalescing in Hagrid's care. Stretching luxuriously – knocking a few pots from the shelf above to the floor in the process – he looked outside. It was a howling blizzard outside! Hagrid groaned. He would be lucky to find his way through his vegetable patch in this weather, let alone the Beauxbatons carriage. He groaned again as his careful plans for the evening were dashed.

"Ruddy English weather!" He growled as a gust of wind extinguished his lamp.

--

"Ah, zis English weather!" exclaimed Olympe as her candle was extinguished for the this time. "Do zey 'ave no zummer-time?!"

No answer was forthcoming, so Olympe lit her candle again, this time casting a minor shield charm around it, then began writing once more.

Nous serens enchentes ...

But she did not get much further, for yet another gust of wind blew all her papers off her desk. Olympe let out an anguished groan of frustration and began to gather the papers together again.

"Ruddy English weather ..."

--

The snow had slowed a little now. It was possible to see the yawning black expanse that was the lake now, if only faintly. Hagrid decided to go and apologise to Olympe. Pulling on his great beaver-skin over-coat, large steel-capped boots, and a warm, home-made hat that had once been green, he pushed open his front door. A drift of snow, promptly and peacefully, collapsed onto his doormat, crashing over his boots. "Damn." He said, then closed the door and headed to the back one.

The snow had not managed to pile up in the frame of this door, and so Hagrid as able to battle his way through his vegetable patch – which now looked like a lumpy blanket – and forced his way towards where the Beauxbatons carriage was parked.

--

Olympe clutched at her hair in exasperation. Was the world determined to punish her by interrupting very moment of peace she had.

"Yes, Guaittons, I am coming," she said to the short man who was the footman. "I will greet zis guest now." Making her way to the front door, Olympe wondered who it was. Dumbledore ... ? A lost student ... ? No, it was ...

"'Agrid! 'Ow are you?" she said, somewhat needlessly. His nose was pink and starting to turn blue at the edges and he was so frosted with snow that he looked a Christmas decoration.

"I jus' came ter say sorry fer not bein' able to go with yer inter Hogsmeade." He tried to shuffle his feet, but they didn't seem to respond to his wishes of movement.

"Oh, zat is quite all right, 'Agrid. I was not expecting to go down to ze village today anyway."

"Oh, er, quite." Now his ears were turning blue.

"'Agrid, your ears are turning blue." She said, alarmed. "Do you want to come 'een and warm yourself?"

He felt his ears cautiously. "Ah, I see wha' yer mean. Nah, thanks anyway. I'm a bit wet."

"Yes, I can see zat," she said, fighting an urge to giggle most un-properly. " I will see you up at ze school, zen?"

He looked a bit shifty. "Actually, I was wonderin' ... would yer come wi' me somewhere else ... next Wednesday, like?"

"Where is zis 'somewhere' zen?" she asked curiously.

"It's ... ah, a secret, o' sorts. It en't dangerous, jus' a bit unusual. It's really amazin', I can promise yer tha'." His gaze shifted towards the Forest. "O' cours', if yer don' want ter, I don' -"

"Oh, no, Agrid. I would love to come wiz you. When will zis mystery outing take place?" She teased him now.

"Oh ... bou' twelve, say?"

"Will you not be at lunch?"

"Eh?" he seemed quite startled. "Nah, this is at twelve midnight."

"Oh." She said, surprised. "Oh, I see. I will be ready for you zen, Agrid."

He tipped his cap in farewell. "G'day, Olympe." And went back through the drift towards his home, leaving Olympe standing in the door, shocked. Why was she so surprised at him using her name? It had felt like ...

"Madam?" It was the tall Head-girl, Antoinette. Her long brown hair fluttered in the cold breeze that swept into carriage in gusts. "Madam, will you not shut ze door?"

Shaking herself out of her reverie, Olympe shut the door, smiled at Antoinette, who she liked extremely and walked back to her room. Once inside, she sank onto her bed with happy smile. All bad thoughts were forgotten in the sudden and unexpected joy of seeing Hagrid. With a little wriggle of girlish happiness, she started getting changed for bed.

--

The night was nippy, but not too unbearable. It was five minutes to twelve and Olympe was just a tiny bit nervous. Maybe quite a bit nervous. Actually, she was very nervous. And when a loud bang on the door rang out, she leapt up and opened the door before it could wake any of the students.

He was standing in a very pleased manner which barely showed nervousness. A large flower was tuck in his buttonhole and he was wearing a tie.

"Ah, Agrid, Is eet time?"

"Bong-sewer," he said cheerily, taking her hand to help her down from the carriage. She giggled a little, then stopped herself.

"And whair ees eet we are going?" she asked as he led her towards the forest.

"It's in the forest," he said happily. "We'd better hurry up." He looked over his shoulder at something, but when Olympe looked as well, there was nothing.

The Forest was as dark as it had been ever since Olympe's first look at it and in the dark it was even more chilling. But she was not scared of the dark and it would take a lot more than merely a slight foreboding to scare her truly. And Hagrid's hand on her arm was reassuring too.

"Agrid, whair -" She began, but he lifted a finger to his mouth.

"Listen," he whispered,eager expectation in every line of his face. Olympe listened, then heard, in the distance, a roaring of -

It was dragons. Four of them. All of them just awakening, giving the wizards on the ground a hard time.

"Oh, Agrid ..." she whispered reverently. "Zey are amazing! Magnifique!"

"Do yer want ter get closer?" he asked. She nodded and they approached the pen holding the four roaring animals inside. A red-haired wizard came up to them, panting in a dark blue, hand knitted sweater.

"Well, Hagrid, they're all here." The wizard began to talk of the dragons with Hagrid. Olympe wandered off around the pen. A large black one had just been knocked out, but was even now eyeing her through an orange slit in it's horny eyelid. A smaller, smoother one was walking unsteadily around her enclosure, while a blue one surveyed her captors majestically. In the far corner, a medium sized red one was sniffing at a pile of huge, granite coloured eggs. That brought a question to her mind.

What were they doing here?

The red-haired wizard said loudly over the hubbub of roars and groans that filled the clearing, "They wanted nesting mothers for the champions, don't know why ..."

Of course. The tournament. So they had to get past the dragons to do what ...?

Hagrid's voice drifted over to her. "An' they got ter get the golden egg, eh?"

So now she knew. Did Potter know? Did the other champion know? Did ... did Karkaroff's champion know? If he did there was no way that Fleur would win this Task ... Olympe chewed her lip worriedly. Oh dear.

--

A brisk but cool wind blew when they stood again before the Beauxbatons carriage and Olympe shivered. How could the English stand it?

"Are yeh cold?" Hagrid asked concernedly.

"No, no, I am just a trifle chilly, zat ees all." Olympe hesitated. "I 'ave enjoyed zis evening vairy much, 'Agrid. I hope I will see you at breakfast tomorrow." She smiled warmly at him, which he returned cheerfully, if a little shyly.

"I look forward ter it as well, Olympe." He bowed a little awkwardly, then strode off towards his house. Olympe smiled like a schoolgirl after him, then shut the door.

Now, these dragons ...

--

Uh-oh, can you see some trouble? I will update this soon, I swear. I have just re-discovered how much I love this story and it's two amazing characters!