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Hermione's Twelve Days of Christmas

The Great Hall was alive with activity. More so than usual. The finishing touches were being made on the Great Hall's Yule decorations, causing an excitement to sweep over the normally groggy students as they enjoyed their breakfasts. Talks of the upcoming Yule Ball were heard across the room, as some giggled and discuss what they were going to wear and who they hoped would ask them, while others boasted about who they'd asked or discussed which girl or guy they wished to take.

Hermione grumbled into her cup of tea about it all being silly. Harry nodded his head in agreement, while Ron looked across the hall longingly, causing Hermione to shake her head at him. A flurry of hoots and flapping wings came from above signaling the morning post had arrived.

They looked up instinctually, although only Hermione was expected to have an owl who brought her the morning paper. They were surprised when two owls dropped down in front of her.

"Oh… Hello," she said as she handed them each a piece of toast, then untied her mail from their legs. Harry reached out to pet the closest one, then gave them each a piece of bacon from his own plate. The owls hooted happily before taking off again.

"What'd you get?" Ron asked as he leaned closer to her as she opened the brown parcel. His eye's furrowed in confusion as she unwrapped the package to find it wrapped in brightly colored paper with snowman who wasn't moving on the paper. "I don't get it," he said.

Harry and Hermione chuckled lightly. "It's a Christmas present wrapped in Muggle Christmas paper," Hermione explained lightly. "It must be from one of my cousins then." The present was, unsurprisingly, a book, however it was most definitely not a muggle book. Her eyes lit up as she read the title, Little Known Facts About Hogwarts. She had been trying to get a copy of this book for ages, but there were only a handful of copies made of it. She had only learned about from the librarian who saw her reading, Hogwarts, A History for the umpteenth time and mentioned that there was another book with even more lesser known facts about the school.

She glanced at the torn muggle wrapping paper, then back to the wizarding book. There was no way a muggle could have gotten a hold of this book. So, who sent this to her? She dug through the torn paper to see if she had missed a card or note, but there wasn't one.

"Isn't that the book you've been dying to get a hold of," Ron asked. Hermione looked up at him in surprise. "What? I pay attention."

"Not always," Harry snorted, earning him a kick in the shin. "Ow."

"Serves you right."

Hermione rolled her eyes at them, then opened the book. Stuck to the cover was that elusive note she had been searching for.

"Who's it from?" Harry asked.

She looked up at him with confusion written in her eyes. "I don't know," she said, then handed him the note.

All that was written there was, Day One, in neat handwriting.

"What do you think it means?" Harry asked.

"Maybe they meant one day instead of day one, or perhaps they are planning something else.

"Or it was just a note left there by the previous owner," Harry added.

"It's a little strange they wrapped it in muggle wrapping paper," Ron commented.

"Maybe they were raised in the muggle world," Harry suggested.

Hermione lit up at realizing he was probably correct. She started going through a list of all the student she knew who fit that criteria. Her elated mood deflated a little when she realized something. "Who would have known that I wanted this book though. I've only talked about it to you."

"Really Hermione?" Ron said. "You've been talking about that book for ages. In the common room, in the library, in the Great Hall, in classes. Every time you bring up a fact about Hogwarts from that other obnoxiously large book, you tell us how much you wish you could get your hands on this one." He tapped the book in her hand for good measure. "Someone was bound to overhear you."

"He's right Hermione," Harry agreed. "I'm a bit jealous. I've had a letter in to every wizarding book shop in the country trying to get you a copy. I even looked at a few used bookstores in Surrey over the summer on the off chance it made its way into the muggle world. Had no luck."

"Awe. That's so sweet Harry," Hermione gushed.

"I'm just glad someone finally found a copy for you," Harry said.

Hermione stared at the book in her hands overjoyed. As she opened the book, all thoughts of who had given it to her floated away. All that was on her mind were the words written on the pages.

~ Fleurmione ~

The next morning Hermione paid more attention to the Great Hall's ceiling than she did to her food. Only looking down long enough to shove a piece in her mouth or take a sip of her pumpkin juice. She was eager to see if her Secret Santa would strike again and maybe get another clue as to who they might be.

When the post finally came, she watched the owls eagerly, only to be disappointed when only one Owl landed in front of her.

"Guess the note didn't mean anything after all," Harry commented.

"Or it could have meant to say, one day," Ron reminded.

"Guess I won't find out until they're ready," Hermione sighed. She returned to her food as she read the morning paper, then continued her day as though nothing had happened.

Classes flew by in a mess of excited teenagers and frustrated Professors who tried, and mostly failed, to get their classes to simmer down and focus on their work. Much to Hermione's dismay.

After classes she headed to the library so she could work on her Charms essay. She went to the back of the library, where there was a lone table that Hermione preferred to sit at. She set her books down, then went off into the stacks to find a book Professor Flitwick had told her about.

She returned as few minutes later with her head already buried in the book. As she went to sit down, something shiny red and green caught her eye from beyond the bottom of the book. Curious, she lifted the still open book up to look at what she had saw.

"Huh," she hummed and set the book off the side. Sitting on the table next to her book bag was a Christmas present wrapped in the same muggle wrapping paper as the book but tied with shiny red and green string. Slipped under the string was a small card, with her name on it.

She smiled softly as she plucked the card off the present. It was written in the same handwriting as the note in the book. She opened the card and written there were two words in the same neat handwriting. Day Two.

Hermione looked around her to see if the person was still nearby. Other than a few students whispering at one of the main tables and Madam Pince shushing then quite loudly, she was alone. Her focus returned to the present and pondered for a few moments on opening it there or taking it back to the common room to show Harry and Ron first. She opted for there, knowing there was a chance the person was waiting in the shadows to see her reaction.

Hermione carefully tore open the wrapping paper, not wanting to seem to eager or childish, then set it off to the side. A gasp escaped her as her eyes fell on a beautiful rectangular wooden box made from spruce wood, if she was correct. It was about a foot long, two-thirds of that wide, and about half that deep. The lid was curved around the edges and only about two inched deep. A tree was hand carved, or perhaps magically, into the left side of the lid reaching up to the top and over to the right. In the blank space to her lower right was her full name carved in fancy lettering. Around the sides of the box there were quills, ink pots, and books carved in a pattern wrapping completely around to the base. She ran her hands over the smooth wood, letting her fingers trace over the carvings. It was so beautiful.

She lifted the lid carefully, gasping again as there were more gifts inside. A leather bound journal with her name written in gold letters, a fancy quill that made the had a special tip that changed to accustom the writers preferred writing style, and an ink pot of special ink that changed whatever color the user wished.

"Oh, thank you," she said aloud, hoping the person was nearby.

Grinning ear to ear, Hermione grab her bag and the box and headed back to Gryffindor Tower, eager to show Ron and Harry her gifts.

~ Fleurmione ~

It was during lunch the next day that her next present arrived. One second there was a platter of ham sandwiches in front of her, then in the blink of the eye it was replaced with a present about the size of her hand. The same wrapping paper as before was used, and there was a little tag with her name on it.

With a smile upon her lips she grabbed the present and looked around to see if anyone else noticed. Only Harry and Ginny had noticed the exchange. "What is it, 'Mione?" Ginny asked.

"Hermione's been getting presents from a secret admire," Harry explained.

"Ooooo. Sounds romantic," she gushed.

Hermione just shook her head as she unwrapped the gift. Inside a black velvet box laid a beautiful silver chain bracelet with a three silver charms hanging from it. A solid book with her initials ingraved on it, what looked like a knitted cap, and a button with S.P.E.W. engraved on it. It was a simple bracelet that she could wear every day.

"Wow. Someone really likes you," Ginny commented.

Hermione ran her fingers over the book, then looked up to see if anyone was watching her. Disappointment washed over her as she met no curious eyes. Still, she smiled and asked Ginny to put it on for her. She spent the rest of lunch and most of her free time staring at the beautiful bracelet on her arm.

~ Fleurmione ~

On the fourth day, Hermione's gift nearly gave her a heart attack right after dinner. She had just crossed the threshold of the Gryffindor tower, when her robes began to shake. It took her a moment to realize that there was a small box inside one of her pockets. She pulled it out and smiled widely at Harry, Ron, and Ginny who were staring eagerly at the shaking present.

"Whatever is in there wants out," Harry grinned.

Not caring if she seemed too eager, she tore open the same muggle wrapping paper as before, right there in the mouth of the common room. She jumped as the lid to the small cardboard box leapt off, flying one way while the present within the box zoomed out the other way. It flew around the heads of Harry, Ron, and Ginny before finally coming to a stop, floating a few inches in front of her face.

She laughed boisterously as she realized what it was, drawing the attention of half the common room. Floating in front of her was a tiny red sleigh, being pulled by eight tiny reindeer. In the sleigh sat a plump old man in a red suit, who was waving at her.

She could hear laughter and excited chatter from her classmates raised in the muggle world, mixing with the confused questions coming from the ones who weren't.

"What is it, Hermione?" Ron asked.

She looked over at him and the sleigh took off, flying over their heads, gathering even more attention their way. Not that she cared. She had a small piece of her childhood with her.

"It the muggle version of Father Christmas or Santa Claus as some know him," Hermione said, then explain to him, as well as the other purebloods listening who he was and the legends surrounding him. At the mention of her favorite Christmas poem, 'Twas the Night Before Christmas, a muggle born first-year excitedly exclaimed he had a copy of it, and dashed up to his dorm before anyone could get a word in.

He returned a less than a minute later with a large thin book, with a smiling Santa on the cover. He handed it to Hermione and bashful asked her to read it. She smiled at him and allowed her classmates to usher her across the room and into one of the old worn armchairs by the fire.

Nearly every Gryffindor third year and below, both muggle-raised and wizard-raised alike, as well as most of the upper wizarding-raised classmen, gathered around her. As she read the poem, pausing after each page to show the pictures drawn on the pages, the Santa Claus and his eight tiny reindeer flew over their heads, weaving in and out, occasionally coming to stop in front of students who were trying to get a good look at them.

Once the book was finished, she went on to explain the history of the poem, giving them the alternative names, a little about the author, and some of the modern day traditions and adaptations that stemmed from the poem.

She was surprised that for once her classmates didn't roll her eyes or walk away as she spilled the knowledge gathered in her mind. They were hanging onto her every word. It reminded her a little of how she had been growing up, experiencing the 'magic of Christmas'.

When she finished, everyone began talking and asking questions. Some asked questions about the muggles who believe the tale. Others, who were more creatively inclined, drew magical conclusions from the tale, adding wizarding spins to it. Which caused some to speculate that perhaps the author had been a wizard.

She sat back with a smile on her face and listened to the lively chatter. As the group broke off into groups, some still actively talking about the poem, the Santa returned to Hermione. He floated in front of her, and for a moment she could have sworn he winked at her.

She reached her hand out, palm to the ceiling, so the sleigh could come to a rest. A giggle escaped her lips as the reindeer pawed at her hand, causing a ticklish sensation to run up her arm.

Hermione loved this gift. It was something so simple, yet so joyful. A little piece of her muggle world brought to life by her magical world. 'The best of both worlds,' she thought to herself.

Harry sat down on the couch across from the fireplace, followed my Ron and Ginny. "Well this present really narrows the pot of possible people."

Hermione hummed her agreement, "Definitely raised in the muggle world." She pulled the box out of her pocket, where she had stuffed when she was being ushered across the room. There was a note at the bottom of the box, which caused her to laugh, "And most definitely an older student."

She handed Harry the box, "I charmed it myself," he read aloud. "Day Four."

Ginny reached over Ron and plucked the box from his hands. She looked at the note. "The handwriting is beautiful," she noted. "Day four. How many of these you reckon you're going to get?"

"I don't know," Hermione said. "I suppose it's leading up to something. Perhaps Christmas day."

"So eight more," Harry said. "The Yule Ball is that night. Maybe it's leading towards that.

"Do you think he's going to ask you to go to the ball with him?" Harry asked.

"Oh, I hope not. I already have a date to the ball, remember," Hermione reminded.

"Right. This secret guy you refuse to tell us," Ron gibed.

Ginny shook her head at Ron and handed the box back to Hermione. "Could these be from him?"

"I had thought about that, but I don't think it's him," Hermione admitted, but didn't explain further than that. She didn't want Ron to have any clues to her secret date, not after how he treated her.

"So, you have a date to the ball and a secret admire. Someone catching some eyes," Ginny teased lightly, causing Hermione to blush.

'It is strange,' she thought to herself. 'Strange, but nice.'

~ Fleurmione ~

As Hermione got ready for bed the next night, she did so slightly disappointed. No present had been delivered, left for her, or magically appeared before her eyes. While she wasn't disappointed at not receiving a new gift, she was disappointed at them suddenly stopping without her know who the person was. She had hoped that at the end of the days, however many there were, she would get to know who they were.

She wanted to be able to thank them for making her feel more special than anyone had, aside from her parents of course. Although they made her feel special in a vastly different kind of way.

She gave her gifts a look over, then pulled back the blankets of her properly made bed. She let out a gasp at the present wrapped in Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer wrapping paper. A giggle escaped her at the silly muggle wrapping paper, her mood increasing tenfold. It wasn't over, which meant she still had time to learn who they were.

The rest of the girls came round to her bed to see what had their roommate uncharacteristically giggling like a little girl. Lavender and Parvati jumped onto her bed in excitement at see the present, while Fay and Kellah stood off to the side.

"Well, go on then. Open it up," Parvati urged.

Hermione didn't need any more convincing than that, and quickly tore open the wrapping paper. Unlike her previous gifts, this one wasn't in a box, and slipped from her hands one the package had been opened enough.

She scooped up the red material, which was in two pieces, and marveled at how soft it was. It was the softest thing she had ever felt. She flattened them out on the bed, so she could get a good look at them. It was a two-piece red silk pajama set, with gold trimming and buttons.

"Wow, Hermione," Lavender said, as she picked up the shirt to feel. "This has to be real silk."

"And real gold buttons," Parvati added, her fingers running over the buttons.

"That can't have been cheap," Fay said.

Kallah nodded her head in agreement, "Whoever gave this to you has good tastes."

Lavender handed it back to Hermione. "Put it on," she instructed.

"Yeah," Parvati agreed. "We want to see how it looks on you."

Hermione quickly changed into the pajama's, not caring if the girls saw her naked chest. She stood in front of them with her arms outstretched, giving them a good look.

"They're a bit big," she commented, even though she didn't mind.

However, as soon as the words rolled off her tongue, the pajamas began to shrink, conforming to her body, until they fit her exactly as she liked. Tight enough that the fabric moved with her, but loose enough that the fabric didn't rub uncomfortably against her sensitive skin.

She looked down at the pajamas in surprise than back up to the girls who were looking just as surprised. She looked through the paper for a note that didn't seem to be there. Then she felt in the pockets resting over her breasts and found it in the right pocket.

"Day Five," She read aloud. "I hope you enjoy the pajamas. They are charmed with a spell of my own creation. They will grow or shrink to fit you however you wish."

"That a handy spell," Fay commented than looked down at her pajama, which were looking a little tight and several inches too short as though she'd grown a fair amount since the start of school.

"You really do need new pajamas," Kellah said.

"Or to just stop growing so much," Parvati teased lightly.

Fey smiled, "Or for Hermione's secret admire to share that handy spell with the world."

"It would come in handy here, wouldn't it," Hermione agreed. She ran her hands over the soft material.

"You look good, Hermione," Lavender said. "Bet you'll sleep like a baby tonight."

She did in fact sleep very comfortably that night, but only after going over every clue as to her secret Santa was and who could fit that those criteria. It had to be one of the older students, who had been raised in the muggle world and excelled at Charms. Unfortunately, she didn't know enough about the upper classmen to narrow it down further.

~ Fleurmione ~

Day Six's present arrived during a study period in the Great Hall via a third year Ravenclaw girl. It was rectangular and weigh about ten pounds, but it was the student Hermione was more interested in.

"Who gave this to you?" she asked, even before she took the gift.

"I don't know," she stammered shyly. "They wore a cloak."

"What about their voice? Was it masculine or feminine?" Hermione asked.

"Neither," she answered. "They didn't talk. Just pointed to the card and handed me a galleon."

"Well, was their hand more masculine or more feminine?"

"I'm not sure. Their hands were covered in thick gloves," the girl replied.

"Alright," Hermione said, and took the gift. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she said, and practically fled from the Gryffindor table.

"I think I scared her," Hermione commented guiltily.

Harry pointed his quill in her direction and playfully said, "You were a bit aggressive."

She rolled her eyes at him, then plucked the note off the top of the present.

Dean moved a little closer to her and asked, "What's it say, today?"

She wasn't surprised by him knowing about the rest, as by now the entire Gryffindor house was aware that she was receiving gifts from someone secret. Partially because they've seen her open a few and the rest by the spread of mouth. She hadn't even had a chance to tell Ron and Harry about the pajama set she received because they already knew.

"Day Six. For when you decide you want a real challenge," she read aloud. More people moved their way down the table, gathering around to see. Thankfully, the Great Hall wasn't packed with students, as most were still in classes.

The wrapping paper was the Rudolf again. She almost felt bad for tearing it off. As the paper fell away, she realized she was staring at another box, made from the same wood as her other one. However, this one bore no markings, or even, by the looks of it, a lid. She looked across the table at Harry in confusion, who in turn was looking at the present with his head tilted sideways. In fact, everyone behind him was doing the same.

She turned the present around to see that the boxed housed a series of books. 'That makes more sense,' she mused to herself. Her head tilted sideways as well reading the titles off. Becoming an Animagus, The Dangers, Rewards, and Downfalls of Becoming an Animagus, A Worldwide Guide to Laws regarding Animagi, and The Journal of Falco Aesalon, (English Translation).

The last title made her gasp. Her hand flew forward on its own volition to grab the thick book.

Skylar, a sixth-year girl year girl with short shaggy brown hair and rectangular glasses, leaned forward to look over her shoulder. "Blimey Hermione. Whoever fancies you has it bad. I don't even think McGonagall could get a hold of this one."

"She hasn't," Hermione said, then looked up at her. "I asked and she practically laughed at me. Said trying to find a copy of this was harder than becoming an Animagus."

"No doubt. Let me know if you're willing to lend it out once you've had a chance to read it. Been on my reading list since third year." She went to turn away, then changed her mind and added, "And when you find out who sent it, keep them. Anyone willing to go through the trouble to find that is worth it."

Hermione nodded her head. She was still stunned that she was holding a copy Falco Aesalon's journal in her hand. She was so engrossed in the book she hadn't realized the whispers around her, or Harry trying to talk to her.

It was only when Ron gave her a kick to the shin that the rest of the world faded back in. She looked up at him. "I can't believe they found a copy."

"A copy of what? What is it?"

"It's a copy of Falco Aesalon's journal, translated into English of course."

"Who's?" Ron asked.

She rolled her eyes at him. "Honestly, Ron. How did you pass Transfiguration third year?"

"You," Harry and Ron said.

A soft smile graced her lips as she said, "Right. Falco Aesalon was the first Animagus. He was the one who figured out how to do it. Took him half his life to figure it out. He took meticulous notes as he attempted it. Every thought, every test, every failure, every success. He wrote it all down. Years of notes. After his death, his children compiled all his notes into a journal. Somewhere along the way, The Greek Ministry took possession of it. It's still there tucked away in a glass case, heavily spelled to protect it from deterioration. But the Greek ministry did allow someone from each Ministry to translate the book into their own language when book printing was evented. Our Ministry produced about fifty copies. Hogwarts got a handful of copies, all of which have vanished, and the rest sold them off to the wealthiest families."

"Not to sound daft," Harry rubbed his head. "But if the book is so coveted, then why haven't they just made more."

"Money Harry," Hermione stated. "If a book is easy to get then, the originals wouldn't be worth nearly as much. That and everything you need to know about becoming an Animagus is widely known and books with the information are easy to come by. The only people who want to read this one, are ones who want to read Falco's thoughts and process."

"You mean brainy types like you Hermione," Ron joked.

"Well Mister Weasley," McGonagall said, causing half the remaining group to jump. "It's nice to know you think so highly of us brainy types. Perhaps if you had paid a little more attention in class, you would have known who Falcon Aesalon was."

Ron turned bright red.

"Now if you will all please return to what you were doing," she said, ushering what remained of Hermione's crowd. "You've been popular this week, haven't you Miss Granger," she said, with a smirk, then reached her hand out across the table. "May I?"

"Certainly, Professor," Hermione said, handing the book to her.

McGonagall gently opened the pages and quietly thumbed through the book. "It is wonderful," she said after a few minutes. She handed Hermione the book back. "I hope you'll come to me if you decide to make the change, Miss Granger," she offered lightly. "Or if you want to have a conversation with someone who will appreciate your thirst for knowledge."

Hermione let of a quiet laugh as McGonagall walked past a still red-faced Ron and to the Professors table.

"So, Hermione," Harry said, drawing her attention onto him. "That's two hard to come by books that you've been dying to get a hold of. Whoever it is must be wealthy and well connected, or at least wizarding parents who are."

She looked down at the worn, but still in good shape book. Harry was right, whoever was sending her these gifts couldn't possibly be a muggle-born and absolutely had to be wealthy. "They have to be half or pure-blooded then," she said, looking back up at him.

"That tosses out a lot of possibilities then," Ron said.

"They have to have some Muggle knowledge though," Hermione said.

"That kind of throws out a lot of pure-bloods then," Ron said.

"Unless they're taking muggle studies."

"They would have to be knowledgeable enough to go into the muggle world to get the wrapping paper and find a Santa and his reindeer. Judging by how many people listened to me the other day, I think my pool of people is dwindling."

"Unless they've spent time in the muggle world with a muggle-born or half-blood friends," Harry suggested.

"Good point," Hermione said, then huffed loudly. "That puts me back at square one. I just know whoever this is, is have a good laugh at me right now.

Across the hall, her admirer was watching as Hermione attempt to figure out who they were, with a smirk on they're face. It wasn't quite a good laugh, but it was still close. She was happy that her gift had pleased Hermione, but she would be lying if she said watching her wonder wasn't amusing. She knew she would never figure it out, after all Hermione was only considering Hogwarts students. Having seen enough, she turned on her heels, and headed back to the carriage to prepare Hermione's next present.

~ Fleurmione ~

Hermione's seventh gift was equally as embarrassing as it was amusing.

Hermione was studying in the library, when a third-year boy came running up to her table in the back, telling her to come quick. That her next present was waiting for her in the common room and that she just had to see it. She huffed lightly and thanked the boy. She packed up quickly and made her trek back to the tower as quickly as her feet could carry her.

As soon as the portrait swung open, the boisterous noise from inside accosted her ears. The sound of crackling electricity, loud yells, and lots of laughter. She paused just inside, suddenly dreading what the present could possibly be.

The twins were the first to spot her. They bounced over to her and each threw an arm around her shoulder and guided her through the common room. The wave of people parted easily to allow them to pass.

"Whoever your Secret Santa is, has a wicked sense of humor," George laughed as they moved along. She smiled lightly at the term Secret Santa. It had caught on over the course of the last two days, so that nearly everyone was referring to her gift giver as such.

"Bloody brilliant, I'd say," Fred added.

Another electric shock cracked through the air, followed quickly by someone yelling out in pain. They reached the edge of the group just as Dean Thomas was being thrown through the air, landing safely on a pile of what looked to be every pillow in the common room.

"My turn," Colin Creevey yelled as he dashed for the chair.

"Watch this," Fred said. "It's bloody brilliant."

Hermione watched in horror as the younger boy sat down in a brand-new reclining armchair by the fire, where her favorite armchair used to sit. Within seconds there was another crack of electricity, and Colin followed Dean's path through the air, landing safely on the pile of pillows.

He sat up with the biggest smile she had ever seen on the boy. "I want to do that again."

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. She broke free from the twins and walked along the edge of the group to the new chair, eyeing it curiously. It was a simple chair, deep maroon that meshed well with the Gryffindor color scheme, that was soft to the touch. High backed with the top slightly puffed out for her head to rest, and a lever on the side to release the footrest. It wasn't very wide or bulky, fitting into the space just as nicely as the previous chair had. If it hadn't looked brand new, unlike most of the Gryffindor furniture that looked a little worn, you wouldn't have thought it out of place. Of course, there was also a giant green bow stuck to the top which made it stand out, along with a note attached.

She took the note, very aware that she was being watched, and let out a loud laugh at the words written on the paper. She turned around and sat on the chair watching her housemates faces closely. Some were looking eager to see her fly through the air, while others were looking at her fearfully.

The chair was as comfortable as it looked, instantly comforting to her body just the way she liked. Unlike her fellow Gryffindors, she wasn't shocked, nor did she take flight. They were watching her curiously, causing Hermione a great deal of embarrassment. She really didn't like all the attention she was getting.

Raising the note up, she read the words aloud, "Day Seven. So, you may always have a comfortable place to rest after a long day. Only those you allow may sit. Everyone else will get a nice shock."

"Bloody brilliant," Fred exclaimed again, breaking the silence that had fell upon the common room. He rushed forward, pulling George along with him. "Let's test this out, Hermione. Give me permission, but not George."

Hermione couldn't help but smile at his eagerness. She rose, curious to see the results herself and gave Fred permission to sit. He moved slowly, pulling his robes closed and making a little show of it. Then sat down as though he were a king. After a few moments of nothing happening, he rose from the seat with a triumphant yell, causing a wave of excitement to run through the room.

George was next and mimicked his brother's playful show. However, unlike Fred, he was shocked almost instantly and propelled across the room, landing on the pillows in a fit of laughter. A swarm of older students went to help him up as the crowd began to yell at Fred to try again.

Hermione didn't say a word this time as Fred made a show of sitting down. This time walking around to the side closest to the fire and hopping into the chair with a twist. Unlike before, a shock rippled through the room, propelling him through the air landing where his brother had just vacated. He too broke out in a fit of laughter as he laid there, unable to stand on his own.

Hermione smiled at the twin's antics, then turned her attention back to the chair. Fred had been right. It was bloody brilliant, although a bit embarrassing. She ran her fingers across the arm, then sat again.

She had already suspected that her Secret Santa was gifted at Charms, but this was ingenious and rather sweet, if she were honest with herself. She truly did love the chair that once sat there, but it was more than the chair itself. She loved being by the fire as she read. The sweet smell of burning wood, the soothing sounds of the wood crackling as the common room died down for the night, and the dancing light upon her books from the flames. It never failed to calm her. She always gravitated towards that chair whenever it was empty.

She looked around the group, some of whom were watching her with interest while others were avidly chatting about her gift. She was sure now that whoever her Secret Santa was, had to be a Gryffindor. How else would they know how much she loved that chair and where it sat?

There were a few older students congregated, but she didn't know enough about them to know if they were excellent Charms students or their heritage. Her eye's flicked over each of them, until they fell upon the twins. If she didn't know that there was no way either of them could afford the chair or the expensive books, she would consider one of them. After all they were much smarter than they let on, having gotten into a few in depth discussions with them over the years, and the shocking chair did have Fred and George written all over it. They were also close enough to her to know a few things about her, and whatever they didn't know, they could easily learn from Harry and Ron without raising any suspicions.

Still, she didn't think it was them, but she wasn't going to rule out the possibility that they had a hand in this. Whoever it was could be using their help to set everything up and get intel on her from Harry and Ron.

~ Fleurmione ~

By breakfast the next morning, nearly everyone in the school had heard about Hermione's shocking chair, given to her by her Secret Santa. So, she wasn't sure why she was so shocked that the gossip had made its way to the professors. Still, she was.

It was nearing the end of her Transfiguration class, as her classmates were growing a little rowdy (as rowdy as McGonagall would allow anyways), when McGonagall approached her desk and slyly placed a small silvery blue wrapped present.

"Not nearly as large as your last one, but I'm sure this one's not nearly as shocking either," She said quietly, with just a hint of amusement in her voice.

She walked away as Hermione snatched the present off the desk and tucked it away in her bag. Unfortunately, she wasn't quick enough. Parvati, who she was sharing a desk with that day, chose that moment to turn towards her to ask for her help. Her question died on her lips, and an excited, "Open it," replaced it.

Hermione shushed her and gestured for her to calm down. She looked around to see if Parvati's enthusiasm had drawn anyone's attention. Thankfully, nobody seemed to notice anything going on. After the spectacle the chair had caused, and the endless gossip she had overheard about her Secret Santa, she wanted to keep the present under wraps as much as possible.

She considered telling Parvati that she would open in later, but that also risked drawing a crowd. She decided that, while everyone else was busy and most definitely not paying attention to her, she'd sneakily open the gift.

Tucking the gift under the table, she carefully tore open the wrapping paper, attempting to make as little noise as possible. Tucking the paper to the side, she pulled the box into her lap and gently lifted the lid. Inside was a piece of paper that was clearly muggle, then underneath that resting on a cloud of cotton, was a silver ring about the size of a man's wedding band in thickness. Around the outside was a strip of colorful plastic that looked like it was shimmering.

"Pretty," Parvati gushed. "Put it on."

Hermione slipped the ring onto her right ring finger. She wasn't even surprised when the ring's size change to fit her finger perfectly. No doubt the same charm was placed on it as her pajamas. What did surprise her was when the shimmering colors changed to a solid lime green color.

A laugh escaped as realization washed over her. She covered her mouth and quickly looked up to see if anyone had noticed. A few eyes were watching her curiously, but thankfully not many. She smiled at them, then turned to Parvati as though nothing was going on.

"It's changed again," Parvati noted. Hermione looked down and saw that the ring was now a purple. "What is it?"

"It's a muggle mood ring," Hermione answered. She pulled the paper that came with it, then tucked the box and paper into her bag. "See, it changes colors to match the person's mood. It's clearly been charmed to work accurately, because the colors usually take forever to change and rarely accurately reflect the wearer's mood."

She handed Parvati the paper with the color guides inside, then looked down at the ring, which had changed to a bright pink.

"So, you were feeling mixed emotions, then you got extremely happy, and now you're feeling romantic," Parvati listed. "Ooooo, Hermione. I think your Secret Santa is definitely tugging all the right strings."

Hermione blushed, "Perhaps."

Parvati nudged her with her shoulder, then flipped the paper over to the back. "Look, they've left a note."

She passed the paper back to Hermione, who read the neat script. Day 8. A small piece of your muggle world brought into the wizarding to brighten your day.

"They certainly are romantic, aren't they," Parvati commented. "Doesn't really sound like any of the boys here. Maybe a few of the girls though." Parvati did have a point. "Do you think it might be one to the French or Bulgarians?"

"I don't think so. I've only really spoken with one of them, and I've already ruled him out. His English isn't well enough to talk with anyone to learn all these things about me."

"And who is this boy?"

Hermione smirked at her, "You'll see at the Yule Ball."

The bell rang before Parvati could comment, causing a flurry of activity among the students. Hermione took her chance to flee before Parvati had a chance to draw in the other girls to see her latest present. She did look back down at the ring as she went though, noting it had changed back to purple to reflect the happiness she was feeling.

~ Fleurmione ~

Her next present was already waiting for her when she woke the next morning, making her wonder how they had gotten it into her room without anyone noticing. Although she was grateful for the small reprieve from curious eyes eager to see her next present. Sitting on her nightstand was beautiful stand glass picture frame, with a bronze boarder. Inside was a moving picture of her, Harry, and Ron during the Gryffindor house party celebrating Harry's fantastic performance during the first task. A picture that was taken by Colin Creevey.

It took her a surprising long time to track the boy down, who ironically had been in the photography club's dark room the entire time. Colin knew the photo she was talking about and who had requested a copy. "For a very special, very secret present," Colin had said, imitating the person.

Hermione didn't know why she was surprised by the person being Dobby. Perhaps it's because she never considered the person was getting help for the school's house elves. Although she should have. It made a lot of sense. Obviously, that's how they got her pajamas and picture frame into her dorm. How the present had suddenly appeared where a platter of sandwiches had been seconds before. That's probably how the chair had gotten into the common room without anyone noticing. She also had to consider the house elves were how the person knew so much about her, expanding her list of people to those in other houses.

After an exhausting trip to the kitchens, Hermione was no closer to learning her Secret Santa's identity. In fact, she was further from it than she had been when she woke up. All Dobby had been able to say is that he couldn't tell her because he had been sworn to secrecy.

She huffed into her chair by the fire and stared into the flames. She played with the ring on her finger, spinning it around her finger absentmindedly. She let the calming sounds from the crackling fire sooth her annoyance.

"I take it Colin hadn't been helpful," Harry asked as he and Ron flopped onto the couch.

She turned to them, noticing that her ring had turned from orange, which had reflected her annoyance, to a dark blue, which represented her relaxed state. "Oh, he was. Dobby on the hand wasn't."

"Dobby?" Ron asked.

Hermione nodded. "Whoever it is, has enlisted Dobby's help as well as a few other house elves apparently. That's all I could get out of them."

"That's bloody brilliant," Ron said.

"It really is," Harry agreed. "Can't believe you didn't think about it before."

"I know. I don't know how I could have missed it. It was so obvious," Hermione huffed.

"Don't beat yourself up too much, 'Mione," Harry said. "If you're right, then you'll know who it is in three days."

Hermione relaxed a little. Harry was right. She'd know who it was in a few days. It was just waiting to know was frustrating. Still, it was a little fun not knowing. Fantasizing about who it could be. She had learned a lot about who she was and who she wouldn't mind dating. She already knew from the start she wouldn't mind the person of any gender, but some of the people she had hoped it would be had surprised her.

Like Parvati (although she was certain it wasn't her), Fred and/or George, Neville, and she had even for a brief moment envision it being one of the Beauxbatons students. That was until she heard Fleur Delacour complaining about the Hogwarts food being too heavy. It clearly wasn't her if she was worrying about fitting into her dress. She preferred girls who cared about their academics and not just their looks. She kept her fantasies to Hogwarts students after that.

"Parvati's excited about the Ball. Hasn't stopped talking about it for days," Hermione told Harry, who looked a little less than thrilled. "Come on Harry. Liven up. Parvati's nice. You should give it an honest go."

"I know. I'm just worried about having to dance in front of everyone," Harry admitted.

"Don't be mate. What's one little dance, compared to fighting a dragon."

"Yeah, but the worst that could happen there was me getting eaten. If I fumble this dance up, I'll be a laughingstock, and I'll be pulling someone sweet along with me."

"You'll be fine, Harry," Hermione assured.

"I hope you're right, Hermione," he sighed. "So, can we see the picture that's had you tearing through the school like a mad woman."

"I was not tearing," Hermione gasped.

Ron chuckled, "You kind of were."

"Well just for that, I'm not going to show you today's present."

"Come on," Harry and Ron whined.

"Please," Harry added.

A smile broke through the façade, as she couldn't stay made at them for long. "Sure," she said, then bounced up the staircase to retrieve her present. As she came back down, she noticed a note on the back that she had missed in her haste to find Colin.

Day Nine. So, you may always have your best friends close.

The note brought a tender smile to her lips as a happily content feeling filled her chest. She noticed her mood right had change to reflect that, as both magenta and purple could be seen. She couldn't wait to find out who this person was. She just hoped the buildup wasn't for not, as they already had a way to make her feel special and happy.

~ Fleurmione ~

For Hermione's tenth gift, she wasn't even embarrised that she had a crowd to receive it, or the fact that Professor Sprout had turned her gift into a spontaneous lesson.

Class had begun just like every other, with them tending to the plants they were nursing to life. It was about halfway through class, when the idle chatter around Hermione turned into excited whispers and a chorus of her name being called. She turned away from her Alihotsy, to see that most of the class mixed with Gryffindor and Hufflepuffs were standing around the long table in the center. Professor Sprout had even joined them to see what all the fuss was about.

Like they had the night she received her reclining chair, her classmates parted ways for her to pass. Sitting on the table with a note that said, For Hermione, Day Ten, was a small potted plant. The pot was a small glass square. The plant itself consisted of two thin stalks that stood about six inches high, each curving to her left, with several brilliant purple flowers already bloomed and some just beginning to sprout.

Neville, who was standing right next to her, said, "It's an elegant orchid."

"Very good Mister Longbottom," Professor Sprout. "Can you tell Miss Granger what these beautiful flowers represent?"

Neville nodded his head. "They represent beauty, strength, luxury, and love."

"Indeed," Sprout agreed. "I believe the message with this gift is clear, Miss Granger. What of their uses?"

"Besides their symbolism, many use their leaves to brew a tea that is said to help cure cancer, strengthen the immune system, and even improve eyesight."

Seamus laughed, "Potter could use that tea then, eh Potter."

Harry laughed and gave Seamus a playful shove. "Nobody would recognize me without them."

"Sure," Dean laughed. "It the glasses that's your defining feature. Not the brilliant green eyes and lightning shape scar on your forehead."

"Those are merely accented by his dashing round glasses," Hermione added. "He simply wouldn't be Harry Potter without them."

"See, Hermione agrees," Harry grinned.

"I think we can all agree, Mister Potter wouldn't look the same without his glasses. So, no slipping him a cup of orchid tea in the future," Sprout joked along. "Now, Mister Longbottom. How about you tell Miss Granger her how to care for her new friend."

Hermione summoned her bag so she could take notes on what Neville was saying, as well as the comments Sprout was adding here and there.

A little while later Hermione made her way back to the main castle, with Harry and Ron beside her. They were discussing the orchid and her Secret Santa as they went along, not really taking notice to who was around them.

"It is a beautiful flower, non?" a voice from behind them said in a thick French accent. Hermione turned to face the woman who spoke. Fleur Delacour was standing with two of her friends by the entrance to the Great Hall. "It is a flower of love and beauty." She gently stroked one of the petals. "A beautiful flower for a beautiful girl."

A soft smile tugged at her lips as she danced away, leaving Hermione behind to wonder what had just happened.

"Blimey Hermione. Fleur was chatting you up," Ron whisper loudly.

"Of course, she wasn't Ronald," Hermione stated.

"Oh no, I think she was 'Mione," Harry insisted.

"Honestly, why would Fleur Delacour want to chat me up?"

"Maybe she fancies you," Harry suggested.

Ron's eyes widened. "Oh. What if your Santa is Fleur?"

"Don't be daft. The both of you. We haven't said more than two sentences to each other. There's no way it could be her," Hermione said.

"I haven't said more than two sentences to her either and I fancy her," Ron insisted.

"Yeah, and one of those was him asking her to the ball," Harry added.

Ron nodded his head eagerly.

"It can't be her. How would she know so much about me?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Dobby maybe. The other house elves."

She rolled her eyes at them and turned away. She was sure there was no way Fleur Delacour could be her Secret Santa.

~ Fleurmione ~

Hermione was reading in her chair by the fire when a wrapped gift suddenly appeared in from of her. She looked up to see that the hand holding the gift belonged to Harry.

"Is this your way of telling me it's been you all along?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No," she said as she took the gift. He sat down on the couch. "I'm just playing delivery boy for Dobby. He said that the kind master wanted it to be handed to her by her absolute best friend."

"Master? So, it is a boy then," Hermione mused. She looked down at the present, wrapped in the Rudolf wrapping paper. That did narrow it down significantly.

"Well… Are you going to open it, or have you discovered what spell is used on Moody's eye?" Harry prompted with a chuckled.

Hermione shook her head and opened the present. It was once again a jewelry box. It was quite a bit larger than the one her bracelet had come in and had a seem down the center of it where it was to be opened. A wave of nervous excitement washed over her. She used her thumbs to push open each side to lid at the same time.

Her breath got caught in her throat at the sight of a beautiful necklace. On the end of an adjustable silver chain, rested a diamond encrusted silver crescent moon, about the size of a galleon. From the tip of the moon, hung a silver backed sapphire heart. Her birthstone.

"It's so beautiful," she said softly to herself.

"Come on Hermione, show us," she heard Lavender said. She looked up to notice a handful of people had gathered around the couch. With a smile on her lips, she turned the box around so everyone could see the necklace. There was a round of 'Oohs' and 'Awes', accompanied with a few giggles from the girls.

"There's a note on the lid," Harry pointed out.

She turned the box back around and stared down at the note attached to the left lid flap. The nervous excitement she had felt before amplified as she read the words written there.

"What's it say?" Parvati asked.

With a slight shake in her voice, she read, "Day Eleven. Save me a dance. Eleven o'clock in the rose garden."

A wave of excitement rushed through the common room. Her housemates were just as eager to learn the identity of her Secret Santa as she was. She noticed the twins in the way back taking notes in a small black notebook. Their gambling notebook. She honestly wasn't surprised that they were taking bets on who he was.

Anxiety washed over her, as she realized she was just a little over twenty-four hours from finding out who he was. It was no longer a possibility of it, but an actuality of it. She had enjoyed fantasizing about who he was, but what if she didn't like him? What if this had been an elaborate ploy to make fun of her. What if it was, Malfoy? What if it was Malfoy playing an elaborate game with her, and was going to humiliate her?

'No,' she told herself firmly. Malfoy wasn't clever enough to pull a scheme like this off, and whoever did it was, had gone through a lot of trouble to impress her. That person clearly wasn't Malfoy and clearly wasn't trying to humiliate her. She let those thoughts calm her anxiety, allowing her mind to flow back into fantasizing about who she hoped it would be.

~ Fleurmione ~

Hermione spent all of Christmas day a nervous wreck. Not only was she going to the Yule Ball with a champion form another school, but by midnight she would finally know who she Secret Santa is. Of course, there were a few small reprieves from her anxiety. Harry and Ron dragged her outside with most of the school to play in the freshly fallen snow. The snowball war that broke out kept her active mind off the night's events, and firmly on a strategy for beating the boys.

Her next reprieve came from her Yule Ball date, Victor Krum, who was a most satisfactory date. He was kind and engaging. They talked about their homes, the differences in their schools, where they've traveled, how to pronounce Hermione's name, and even what they would like to do once they'd finished school. When they weren't talking, they were on the dance floor. Krum was much more graceful than she believed, which was probably thanks to his seeker training. Overall Hermione had a wonderful night.

However, as the hours ticked closer to eleven, Hermione's mind did return to her Secret Santa. Her eyes washed over the crowd, searching for any final clues that would give her an idea of his identity before the big reveal, with little avail.

One worry that had been plaguing Hermione, was how she was going to split off from Victor at eleven to go see another man. She had been fretting about it all day, coming up with a dozen different ways to phrase it. In the end, she hadn't needed to worry at all, because a little after ten, Victor subtly asked what time she had to meet her Secret Santa, although he looked as though he had little clue as to what it actually meant.

She smiled a breath of relief as she told him the time, then proceeded to make sure he was alright with her ending their date early. He seemed almost as curious as the rest of the school was to learn his identity as well.

At quarter to eleven, Hermione made her way across the Great Hall, trying extremely hard to ignore the growing number of eyes watching her. She knew at least a hand full of them would be discreetly following after her, hiding somewhere they could get a descent look.

She paused at the entrance to the rose garden, which had been decorated with fairy lights, and considered waiting until she was sure he would already be waiting for her. Hermione hated to be late though, choosing to always be where she was supposed be on time, or early if she could swing it. Which is why she headed to the center of the garden to wait for her mystery person.

At exactly eleven o'clock Hermione heard the sounds of footsteps coming towards her from behind. They were light, with a soft 'clinking' sound with each footfall. The tell-tale sign of a woman in heels. She turned, her periwinkle-blue dress fanning out slightly as she did. Her eyes fell on the last person she expected to see… Well one of the last people she had expected to see, after all, she hadn't given any Slytherin much thought beyond one of them pulling an elaborate prank on her.

For the second time that year, Ron had been correct about something to do with Fleur Delacour, as she was the one standing in front of her looking like a goddess beneath the brilliant moonlight. Her silvery-blonde hair was almost glowing, and her silvery-grey robes were twinkling with the dual glow of the moon and fairy lights. A soft smile was upon her lips, and in her hand was a single crystal rose atop a gold stem.

Hermione was struck silent by how beautiful she looked. Like a moon goddess.

Fleur stepped forward until there was less than a foot of space between them. "You look beautiful as well, ma chérie," Fleur offered, a hint of amusement playing in her voice. "You were not expecting me to be me, no?"

"No," Hermione said.

"Then I have done a good job at hiding my identity," Fleur said, her accent so thick the 'th' sound turned into a 'ze' sound and the 'h' sounds were silent. Much like how the American's often pronounced herbs like 'erbs

"Yes, you have."

"Good," Fleur said as she tipped the rose towards Hermione. "Day Twelve."

Hermione took the offered rose with a smile. The ring on her finger practical glowed bright green, emulating her mixed feelings. Truthfully, she wasn't sure how she was feeling, or which feeling was the strongest. Confusion for sure. A little guilty for thinking Fleur was shallow. Happy that she finally knew. Lust because she was a fifteen-year-old blossoming woman. A strong pull towards Fleur.

That last one Hermione zeroed in on. It didn't feel wrong per say, but it also didn't feel natural either. More like supernatural. She cocked her head to the side, as she realized what it was, although slightly confused as to why she was able to feel it.

"I can feel your thrall," she said bluntly.

Fleur nodded her head. "There is a reason for that, but first you promised me a dance, no."

"We can hardly hear the music," Hermione said.

Fleur smirked then pulled out her wands and gave it a wave. A few seconds later the music from inside could be heard clearly where they stood. With a confused look, she bent down to the nearest rosebush. "Is the music coming from the roses?" She asked in amazement.

"Oui," Fleur said and offered Hermione a hand. "May I have this dance?"

Hermione smiled widely as she stood up straight and took the offered hand. "You most certainly may."

Fleur gently pulled Hermione close so that there was barely an inch of space between them, causing Hermione's breath to hitch for a moment before remembering how to breathe again.

Hermione let Fleur lead them in a simple waltz around the circular garden center, allowing herself a moment of silence to gather her thoughts. As soon as the first dance was over, Hermione fired off several questions at once. Although she didn't pull away from the older girl, however, the did slow their pace and come to a single spot, where they continued to sway to the music.

Fleur let out a laugh and brought her hand up to silence Hermione's questions. "One at a time," she chuckled.

Hermione blushed. "Why can I feel your thrall now, but not earlier."

"You have a strong mind, Hermione. Strong minded people are able to resist the thrall of a Veela more than others."

"But I feel it now. Why?"

"You feel it now because you want to feel it. Although my Maman and Grandmother says you will feel it differently than everyone else."

"Why?"

Fleur smiled. "Because you are my, how do you English say it, soulmate? Oui, you are my soulmate. If you wish to be that is."

Hermione went from stunned to confused very quickly. "How can I choose to be your soulmate."

Fleur hummed, "We Veela can meet many potential mates, but only one can be a soulmate at a time, and only if that person chooses."

Hermione stopped dancing. "Is this a metaphorical soulmate."

"Non. We Veela form connections with our mates," Fleur said.

Every question Hermione previously had, flew right out her head as a dozen knew ones formed from her firing synapsis. She had been curious to learn more about Veela ever since she saw them perform at the Quidditch World Cup over the summer. Unfortunately, there was so little information on them. Hermione had search through every book she could find, but the only information she could find were the information she already knew.

"How do you know who your potential mates are? How do you form the connection? Can you break the connection after it's been formed? Do you have any control over the connection being formed? How does the connection manifest if each partner?

Fleur laughed loudly. "Ah, ma chérie, so many questions so quickly. Come, dance with me again, and I will tell you whatever you wish to know."

Hermione blushed again and allowed Fleur to sweep her up in another dance. After a few moments, she quietly asked, "How did you know I was a potential mate? When did you know, for that matter?"

With a smile on her lips, she responded, "My very first night here at Hogwarts." She then proceeded to recount the moment her eyes fell on Hermione, so vividly, Hermione swore she could see it.

~ Fleurmione ~

Fleur Delacour was cold in her powder blue summer robes. She had been a Hogwarts for less than an hour and already wished to return to warmth and comforts of the Beauxbatons' carriage, which had been charmed to look and feel just like the school itself. Hogwarts was nothing like Beauxbatons. It wasn't homey like Beauxbatons. It wasn't inviting. It wasn't even warm. It was cold and imposing and ancient.

Still it was nice of them to include foods from home and the enchanted ceiling beyond the thousand floating candles was a marvel to look at. It almost made up for how cold the room was.

As she ate, she looked around at the students whom she and her fellow classmates had chosen to sit with. They were dressed in black robes, just as all Hogwarts students were, but their table's robes were adorned with blue and bronze colors. She knew from her research that they had sat at the Ravenclaw House table, where a sharp mind was considered the most desirable trait.

She shivered, not for the first time that night, and pulled her robes closer around her. Her friend Bella instinctually moved closer to her, allowing her to soak up some of her werewolf heat.

Bella was busy talking to their friend Zola about a boy across the hall. She pointed towards him subtly and said, "That has to be him, no." Curious about who she was speaking about, she looked to where she was pointing. Her breath hitched as her eyes fell on, not the boy they were pointing to, but the bushy haired girl he was sitting next to.

As though someone flipped a switch in her mind, her cold body suddenly grew warmer and she could feel her thrall suddenly expand outwards, causing several Ravenclaws and a few of her fellow classmates to turn their heads her way. Not that she noticed. Everything and everyone in the room faded away into a blur of colors and sounds. All except the girl her eyes laid upon.

She could hear her sweet laugh as though she were sitting next to her. She could see the twinkle in her brown eyes as she teased her friend about his crush of Victor Krum and her adorable buck teeth as she smiled widely at him. Fleur was sure she had never heard a sound sweeter or seen a person more beautiful.

An aggressive tugging on her arm drew her attention away from the beautiful girl and onto her friend. "What is it?" she asked in French.

"Your eyes. They're practically glowing, they're so bright," she whispered.

A wave of shock washed over her as she realized what had just happened. She rapidly blinked her eyes hoping it would fix them.

"They're normal again," Bella said after a few moments "What just happened? Even I could feel your thrall."

"I don't know," she lied. She gracefully removed her scarf, that felt like it was suffocating her now that her body was warmer.

Bella said something to her, but she didn't hear the words as everything in the room faded away again. Then suddenly she felt herself moving across the hall towards the girl, as though her feet had a mind of their own.

Her mind ever so quick, came up with an excuse to be around the girl. "Excuse me, are you wanting ze bouillabaisse?" she asked. Her heart skipped a beat as the girl looked up at her.

The girl didn't reply, however the boy next to her did. "Yeah, have it," she said as he pushed the dish across the table towards her.

Wanting just another moment near the girl, she asked, "You 'ave finished wiz it?"

The boy who had gurgled at her was the one who responded to her and after a moment she took the bowl and headed back to the table.

Bella and Zola were both staring at her as she sat back down, eager to asked about the boy.

"Is it him?" Zola asked.

Fleur looked at them in confusion, unsure of what they were asking. Surely, they didn't know what had transpired within her. "Huh?" she asked.

"Is he Harry Potter?" Bella asked.

"Oh," she said as she physically relaxed. She looked back over to the girl and her friends and for the first time actually looked at the boy sitting next to her. "I don't know."

They rolled their eyes at her and went back to discussing the boy in question as well as anyone else who might fit Harry Potter's description. Fleur's mind stayed firmly on the girl whose name eluded her.

~ Fleurmione ~

"It was a though someone flipped a switch and I just knew," Fleur finished.

"It sounds a little like your thrall in reverse," Hermione commented.

"Oui," Fleur replied.

"Why me?" Hermione asked. "I mean, what is it about me that you recognized as a potential mate? How does that work?"

Fleur hummed again. "My thrall is not only for attracting men, like a siren's call. It is also to feel out people who would be the most ideal mate for me. Someone who is intelligent, wise, kind, brave, beautiful. All things you are."

Hermione blushed again. "How do you know so much about me?"

"I asked around. Discreetly of course. The Ravenclaws speak of you fondly. They believe the hat made a mistake when putting you in Gryffindor."

"Yes, they've told me the same on a number of occasions," Hermione said. She pulled away from Fleur. "May we sit?" she asked, pointing to the bench at the edge of the circle.

Fleur nodded her head and guided Hermione over to the stone bench. There was a reindeer on either side, reminding Hermione of the Flying Santa and Reindeer. "How do you know so much about the muggle world?"

"I only know a small bit. My best-friend Bella was raised in the muggle world, although she is a pure-blood. She helped me come up with ideas for your gifts. Did you like all of your presents?" There was a hint of worry in her beautiful voice.

"I did," Hermione gushed. "I loved them all. I have to know though. How did you find Little Known Facts about Hogwarts and Falco Aesalon's Journal so quickly? I've been searching everywhere for both. Not even Professor McGonagall could find."

"It was not easy. I was afraid I was going to have to give you the Animagi set without, but a few days before the start, my mother sent it. She works in the French Ministry overseeing foreign affairs in North America. There is a rare book dealer in Toronto that deals with magical and muggle books. He was able to locate a copy."

"It can't have come cheap."

"Non, but no price is too big when it comes to pleasing you," Fleur said, causing Hermione to blush again.

"How did you even know I wanted it, or even that I was considering becoming an Animagus?"

"I did not know," Fleur hummed.

Hermione let out a laugh. "You just thought it would be something I liked?"

"Oui."

Fleur innocent sounding 'yes' made Hermione giggle more, which brought a smile to her lips, despite her confusion.

"I do not understand why you are amused, but it does make me happy to hear your laugh," she mused. She lifted her hand to Hermione's cheek and gently caressed her cheek. "It is music to my soul."

Hermione's giggles may have died away, but the smile on her face did not. She leaned ever so slightly into the hand that was gently touching her cheek. It was the simplest touch, yet it felt deeper than that. She had never had anyone touch her in a romantic way before. It was new, a little strange, but it also felt right. Like Fleur's hand was made to touch her.

"Is this the connection," she asked. "Is this why you're touch feels… so right?"

"Non," Fleur said. "The connection… The bond… hasn't formed between us yet. Only on my end. There is a process. What you are feeling is all you."

Hermione looked into Fleur's eyes and for a moment her breathe escaped her. Twelve days' worth of fantasies, longing, hope, and happiness that grew stronger with each new gift, suddenly felt amplified in her chest. She had never felt more special and wanted than she had her entire life. The question she had repeatedly asked herself over the last week was finally answered. Would the feelings she felt remain when she finally met the person she was crushing on? That answer was a resounding yes.

Hermione leaned forward slowly, making sure Fleur knew what she was doing, and gently kissed her. Her senses exploded with happiness and lust and content. She had never kissed anyone before, let alone someone she barely knew, but it felt good and right.

She pulled away with a slight blush on her cheeks, a soft smile on her lips, and another question on her tongue. "Is there a reason why you chose twelve days?"

It was Fleur's turn to chuckle. "Oui," she laughed. "It is tradition for Veela to shower their potential mate with twelve days of gifts. To prove to you that I am worthy of courtship. The handcrafted box and flower are tradition also. The flower is given to us by our mothers and grandmothers when we blossom into womanhood. I care for the flower until I find a potential mate to give it to. It symbolizes my ability to care and provide for you. The box is to symbolize my patience and dedication. The rest of the gifts were an array of things I hoped you would enjoy, while showing off a little bit of my spell casting, which is a quality I believe you covet in a partner, no."

"You are a very gifted charms caster," Hermione marveled. "Why so secretive?"

"It is tradition. When it is two veela, it become sort of a game to see if the person can guess the Veela who is wishing to court them."

"But wouldn't they already know?"

"Not always. Not every Veela who I might find the perfect mate, will find me there's, but they can always choose to court me anyways."

"Would you have picked me, if your thrall hadn't recognized me as a potential mate?" Hermione asked hesitantly.

"Oui," Fleur responded firmly. "It did not take me long to find out how amazing you are. I am sure that I would have fallen head over heels for you had we met and gotten to know each other the human way."

"I'm not that amazing."

"Oh, but you are," Fleur insisted. "You are smart and kind and care about things many wizards overlook. Like the poor treatment of house-elves. Dobby told me all about your cause. It was then that I knew that my thrall had been correct. That you are amazing. I just hope that you will give me chance to show you how amazing I can be as well."

"I guess that brings me to my last question. At least for now. What happens now?"

"That is up to you," Fleur said. "We can begin a courtship, which is no different than a human one in the beginning, or you can choose to walk away if you are not interested in me."

"But you gave me you flower," Hermione said lamely, suddenly not able to focus on anything but the beautiful orchid.

Fleur laughed lightly, "We are given the family garden, filled with many different types of flowers. If you do not wish to continue, the flower is yours and there are others for me to care for and give."

"Oh."

Fleur stood and offered Hermione her hand. "One last dance?"

Hermione smiled as she took Fleur's hand. The music coming from the roses grew louder once again, as Fleur spun her around the garden. At the end she placed a soft kiss on her hand, and said, "Take some time to think. I will be waiting for when you know."

She walked away leaving her in the garden by herself. She brought the crystal rose to look at, a smile ever present on her lips. It glimmered in the moonlight. Much like Fleur had. She could hear her teachers off calling for students to return to their dormitories. With a finally look at her beautiful present under the moonlight, she headed back into the school, head full of thoughts.

She wasn't disappointed with who her admirer was, even though she had just days before adamantly declared it couldn't possibly be her. This person who Hermione had believed to be a shallow blonde dingbat, was anything but.

A twisting feeling formed in her gut, at the thoughts of her own judgements. She had judged Fleur based solely on her looks and a few overheard comments. The Fleur she had met tonight had been nothing like she believed. She was kind and charming and an amazing charms caster. She had made music come out of the roses! That was an amazing spell, toppled onto a week's work of amazing spells and gifts.

She realized she was grateful for the secrecy, behind the gifts. It gave her a chance to be opened minded and let the wonder of each gift wash over her without her preconceived bias and judgments. She snorted ruefully; she had acted no better than Ron.

It was then that Hermione was sure Fleur deserved a chance with her and that she really wanted to have a chance with her as well. She was everything Hermione hope for in a partner; smart, kind, brave, honest (something she had previously judged her for), and ambitious. She had to be otherwise she never would have become the Beauxbatons' champion. She fit Hermione's need for a logical partner, as well as a not so logical one. There definitely sparks between them, despite the fact that she wasn't someone she thought about beforehand. She was a little older. Likely at least two years.

Although there was a slight appeal to that. Most of the kids closer to her age didn't keep up with her in the academics, even the Ravenclaws. She was always more advanced, working well into higher years for fun and a little challenge.

She smiled as she remembered the note Fleur left with the Animagi books. For when you decide you want a real challenge. Truth be told, that was exactly why Hermione was considering becoming an Animagus. For the challenge of it.

Fleur knew her so well already, despite not actually knowing her. She wondered if that was a veela thing. An instinct where she just knew what would make Hermione the happiest. If it were, it was definitely a nifty gift.

However, the demon that lived in her head, brought doubts to her thoughts. It left her wondering if she could ever measure up to Fleur. She was younger and nothing more than a slightly average witch in the smarts department and average in the looks. Fleur was stunning on both accounts. Much more than just an average witch. Could she make Fleur as happy and Fleur made her this week?

She didn't have much time to ponder that further, as she had arrived at the portrait of the Fat Lady. The noise from within was flooding through the closed door, leading her to believe there was a party going on inside. She climbed through the hole while shaking her head, knowing Professor McGonagall would be round at some point to break it up and send everyone off to bed.

The room quieted down as she attempted to step around the mass of people to the girl's staircase. Then before she had properly realized what had happened, she was surrounded by her housemates, all talking or gushing or shouting out question about Fleur. She didn't know why she was surprised that everyone knew.

Parvati and Lavender were gushing about how romantic it all was. Fred and George were patting her on the back, while melodramatically telling her how proud they were of her for kissing the girl. That caused a bright red blush to rise her neck to the tips of her ears. Colin Creevey was standing on one of the common rooms many tables, snapping pictures as fast as his camera would go, causing a strobe light effect.

It took her a long time to placate the crowed enough by a retailing of the nights events, leaving out the veela information of course, before she was able to free herself from the group and make her way over to the fire where Harry was sitting.

"So, Fleur huh?" He said when she sat in her chair, the tiniest hint of a smirk on his lips. "That makes two champions you've caught the eye of."

She rolled her eyes at him but smiled none the less.

"Ron's not too happy. He was practically spitting fire as we made our way back up," Harry continued. "He'll cool off after a while, he always does. Just don't let him sway what you want. I know you're not helping them win and I know that you deserve someone who sees you for you."

"Thanks Harry," Hermione gushed. She was a little worried that he would believe the rubbish Ron had been spewing at the Ball.

Harry leaned forward and whispered, "So… How was it? The kiss I mean."

"It was… amazing, Harry. Her lips were so soft and warm. It was everything I hoped my first kiss would be like." Harry looked as happy as Hermione felt, reminding her what a great friend he was.

"Do you think you'll give her a shot?"

Hermione bit her lip as she thought about what to say to him. The first thought that jumped into her head was a resounding 'yes,' but she wasn't one to act solely on her feelings. She was a logical decision maker and she wanted to make the decision as such.

"Maybe," she finally said.

"Well I think you should," he said soundly. "You should do the things that make you happy, and I don't think I've ever seen you as happy as I have this week, 'Mione.

That stunned her a little bit. She hadn't realized just how happy she had been. She knew of course that Fleur's gifts, that the time and energy and thought that went into them, had made her happy, but had she really been that happy. "Really?"

Harry nodded his head rapidly. "You weren't even this happy when you convinced all our teachers except Snape to give you our cancelled second years exams for fun."

"I was very happy then," Hermione mused.

Hermione went to bed with that thought in her head. Dreams of Fleur Delacour filled her night and when she rose the next morning, she knew what she was going to do.

Instead of sitting at the Gryffindor table for breakfast, Hermione made her way over to the Ravenclaw table where Fleur was sitting with her friends. She cleared her throat, gathering their attention.

She held her hand out and snapped her fingers. A single red, tiger striped rose appeared, and she offered it to Fleur. "May I sit with you?" she asked.

Fleur smiled widely at Hermione as she accepted the rose, then practically pushed her friend Bella away to make room for her.

"Does this mean I have a chance to win your heart?" Fleur asked softly.

Hermione smiled and pulled a small box out of her robes. She set it in front of Fleur. "You already have," she said softly. "But I am giving you the chance to keep it."

Fleur opened the box and sitting inside was a Claddagh ring, with two hands holding a ruby encrusted heart wearing a crown. "I sent for it a few days ago. Just in case," she explained softly. "I wasn't sure if you were a girl or boy, so I went with something that would work well for both. If you'll have me, the ring goes on your right hand with the point of the heart towards the wrist. That say's you're in a relationship."

Fleur smiled and slipped the ring onto her right ring finger. She held her hand out to show Hermione. "It looks good, non?"

Hermione nodded her head. "It looks good." She smiled as Fleur showed off the ring to her friends as though it was the most amazing ring in the world, which made her blush.

Twelve days. That's all it took to completely turn Hermione's life upside down. Twelve wonderful days of Christmas.