Harry Potter:Diamond Heart.

Now, though, she had nothing to do and ever so slowly the creeping feeling of isolation began to return.

Fleur could only ignore it for so long and was soon unable to resist the urge to check the time. She hoped that it was not too long until she had to leave for Hogsmeade to meet her family, because the moment she knew the time she could be counting seconds.

It was just after five o'clock.

Her mother and sister would be arriving by portray at six, but it only took half an hour to walk there, and that was if she purposefully went slowly.

Maybe they'll come early.

She straightened her uniform, tucked her wand into the belt at her waist, and carefully scrutinised her room. There was nothing to tidy or adjust. She'd already spent an hour so carefully arranging everything as neatly and perfectly as possible.

I shall have to walk very slowly, she realised, disillusioning herself and stepping out into the corridor.

The communal room was full. Fleur knew from what she had overheard and from what normally happened that the girls were either going out with their dates from the Yule Ball, or together. Apparently the best place to get ready and chatter was the communal room. She supposed it was better than it could have been, none of them were paying any attention to the door, and there were no new copies of the Daily Prophet article on her and Harry lying around. Hopefully that meant they had run out of copies.

It was cold when she stepped outside. The sort of sharp, clear cold that came with cloudless skies mornings of white frost. It was by far the best weather that they had had so far, even if Fleur did hate the cold. After all, casting a warming charm was much less inconvenient than warding off the rain.

Fleur cast three warming charms. One to make the cold bearable, and then two more so it felt like she was in the spring of the South of France.

Warm, and anticipating the arrival of her family, she began to wander as slowly as she could in the direction of the apparently quaint, little village. Fleur had never been to Hogsmeade before, she'd never been to Britain before either, but she hoped to find somewhere a little more refined than Hogwarts.

There was really only one room that Fleur admired in the Scottish school and it hadn't felt right to return there without Harry. It was his room. The way he had shown it to her had implied that it was a secret of his, somewhere precious. It certainly made a perfect place to escape to.

Hogsmeade was every bit the medieval magical community. The buildings looked like they had not been touched since the village had been constructed, only the interiors had changed. Fleur could appreciate the attraction of such an atmosphere, even if she preferred the slightly more modern communities in France.

The French Revolution and the three wars that had been fought across French soil since had rather ruined the majority of anywhere similar in France. Most of the surviving settlements were from the renaissance era like Beauxbatons and the newer ones had been built in the same style out of nostalgia and tradition.

The main street was lined with a handful shops and the two inns that Fleur had often heard referenced by Hogwarts' older students. Most of the shops were closing, or closed, and only the inns and a rather horrible looking tea -shop remained busy.

Fleur eyed Madam Puddifoot's with distaste. There was such a thing as too much pink and Madam Puddifoot had eclipsed that point quite spectacularly within just a few feet of the door. She supposed that if you discounted the horribly overdone colour scheme and the aura of slightly overzealous romance it wasn't such a bad place. It was full. There were almost fifty couples crammed in and only a handful of them looked uncomfortable - normally the male halves of the pairs who felt out of place submerged in Madam Puddifoot's personal vision of romance.

She somehow suspected that there was not a Mister Puddifoot given the witches dedication to the romance of others. Halfway down the street she caught sight of Katie Bell, the girl who had tried to steal Harry away to dance when they had been leaving, she was arm in arm with another Gryffindor. For a second Fleur's heart plunged at a flash of black hair and she turned away to grind her teeth, her disillusionment charm collapsing at her loss of focus, but then her pride returned in full force and she drew herself up confidently. Whomever Harry decided to spend his time with was not really any of her concern. She took another quick glance anyway, just to make sure that he was happy and wouldn't prefer the company of anyone who might better understand him than Katie Bell could.

It was not Harry.

A swooping, flood of relief carried Fleur's heart back up where it was supposed to be.

Merde. She knew enough about relationships to know what it meant when a witch really didn't want to see a wizard with another girl, especially one he might have been more than friends with. Fleur was not stupid enough to try and pretend that she was not fond of the English boy, but, of course, he was only fourteen, no matter how old his eyes seemed.

I can't keep avoiding him, she realised. There was no way she could allow him to be alone, not when it would be so easy for him to find another person to be close to. The worst part about her imagining Katie Bell on Harry's arm was that it could so likely be true.

Katie Bell and her dark-haired female companion disappeared into the Hog's Head and Fleur decided to hold off on her exploration of Hogsmeade's inns. She didn't want to walk in after that girl only to find Harry was there waiting for her after all.

Her mother and sister were portkeying to just outside of Hogsmeade's Post Office, which was back down the street she had followed to where it crossed Hogsmeade's other main thoroughfare and left. She had glimpsed it crossing the road from Madam Puddifoot's.

'Tempus,' she muttered. It was still ten minutes until they were supposed to arrive.

Fleur began to walk in that direction regardless. It would take her a few minutes to reach the Post Office and so she would not be waiting overly long, not unless they were late.

She smiled to herself. He mother had picked up her father's sense of prompt timing, albeit to a lesser extent, and Fleur was normally quite punctual, but the concept seemed entirely lacking in Gabby. She was capable of making the whole family late, even when her parents and older sister organised everything they could for her.

They were both already waiting for her outside the small building when Fleur turned the corner.

How did maman manage to get Gabrielle here early? Fleur wondered. She knew her sister would be here on time, Gabby was as attached to her elder sibling as Fleur was to her younger, but she was very disorganised. She always thought that she was ready to leave, but nothing really ever seemed to occur to her until the very moment of departure.

'Fleur!' Her not-so-little anymore sister let go of her mother's arm and covered the distance between in a matter of moments. She hit Fleur hard, wrapping her arms round her sister's chest and pressing her face into her collarbone.

'Hello, Gabby,' she laughed, patting the top of her baby sisters head and internally marvelling at how much she had grown since the beginning of the year.

Gabrielle, like Fleur, had inherited the abilities of veela magic and now, midway through her fourth year, she was enduring the late surge of puberty that came as part and parcel of being veela. She'd grown three inches since Fleur had last seen her, her head no longer tucked neatly under her older sister's chin, and she had definitely lost most of her childish figure.

'I look like you now,' she beamed, stepping back and twirling for Fleur to see. 'We can pretend to be twins in a few months.' Fleur blinked. Gabby spoke very fast, especially when she was excited, and unless you concentrated words seemed to disappear into one another and vanish.

'You'll still be my baby sister,' Fleur cooed, patting Gabrielle on the cheek. She scowled adorably, but then giggled and glanced back at their mother who was approaching at a much more dignified pace.

'I got your letter,' she smirked, pushing her collar down far enough to reveal the corner of the envelope.

Merde.

Fleur gulped. She had forgotten about that letter, or, more honestly, she had forgotten exactly what Gabrielle might do with that letter when the mood struck her. Her baby sister was every bit a capricious as the stories about veela said, compassionate and shy one moment, only to be loud and cheeky the next.

'Perhaps I could look after it,' she offered, extending a hand out of sight of their mother. Gabrielle's only response was a look of pure innocence, one that was rapidly spoiled by the glint of mischief present in her eyes.

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