This popped into my head the other day when I was flicking through my playlist and Elton John's 'Sorry seems to be the hardest word' came on. It made me think of Hagrid/Maxime and that period after the Yule Ball and then this fic was born. This takes place in 'Goblet of Fire' and stretches from the arrival of the other schools until just after Rita Skeeter's article on Hagrid's half-giant ancestry is published.
So this is a reworked version, as I had to take the previous attempt down after it was pointed out to me that song lyrics aren't allowed, which had completely slipped my mind in my hast to post this but hopefully I've sorted all the wrinkles out now and this is ready to go. I would highly recommend that you listen to the song as you're reading this (if not just because it's a brilliant song).
Disclaimer: Don't own anything.
He had felt his breath leave him when he first laid eyes on her. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. He would even go as far as to say that she was even more beautiful than his beloved dragon, Norbert, with her smooth olive complexion and deep, soulful black eyes. He could stare into those eyes for hours and could do so without having to look down too much. Normally, he had to tuck his chin into his neck, sometimes even stoop a little, in order to be able to talk to the much smaller witches and wizards around him, but looking at her, he got the shock of his life when he realised that there was barely an inch difference in height between them. He had wanted nothing more than to talk to her, get to know the giant witch but had no idea what to say to her. She had been the one to make the first move. Admittedly she had approached him to enquire about the health and comfort of her Abraxans, but it was a start…
...
All her life, she had towered above the world. As poetic as it sounded, the reality of it was harsher than it seemed. She literally towered above her peers and not by just a few inches. Life could be very lonely when you stand at an impressive eleven feet tall. It left her isolated and often ridiculed and shunned from the rest of society. Although her position gave her a certain level of discretion and her skill as a witch earned her the begrudged respect of her peers, she knew they still whispered behind her back. The more she grew (and grew and grew and grew) the more she began to view her giant ancestry as more of a curse than anything else. And so she hid it, repressed the true nature of what her mother had been and simply remained vague and allowed the world to believe that an errant spell had been the cause of her imposing stature. She had resigned herself to the fact that she would stand alone, slightly apart from society. No one in her life, no man, woman, colleague or lover could ever truly meet the needs of this grand witch. She spent her life looking down at them and thought it would forever be this way.
Until the day she met a man who made her look up.
...
With sweaty palms and a stutter so bad he bit his own tongue, he managed to force out an invitation to join him for a walk in the Forbidden Forest. At night. So he could show her something. It wasn't until later, when he was making himself a cup of tea, that he realised how wrong it sounded. He thought he was being mysterious but now he could just pour the tea over his head. What she must have thought of him. He'd probably given her the wrong idea; made himself seem like a cad who was only interested in one thing. Not that the thought hadn't crossed his mind but he had wanted it to seem…romantic. However, she had not mentioned his blunder, but rather gave him a playful smile and said she'd be delighted to accompany him.
It had never crossed his mind that she may not have appreciated his idea of a 'first date'. In his mind, there was nothing better than a big ferocious creature, and that meant nothing would suffice but the biggest and most ferocious.
Dragons.
His heart leapt with joy when she exclaimed her wonder at the fire breathing creatures in that beautiful French accent of hers. He was so swept up in her reaction that he almost completely forgot about Harry, concealed beneath his father's cloak. The boy had seemed eager to leave once he'd discovered why the dragons were there, but Hagrid didn't mind. He spoke with Charlie Weasley for a while until Olympe was ready to leave. They had enthusiastically chatted about all manner of magical creatures and he couldn't believe he had found someone who shared his passion. She was perfect in almost every way.
When they reached the Beauxbatons' carriage, she bid him goodnight and made to enter into the enchanted carriage. She paused, one foot on the step, and turned back to him and pressed a light kiss to his cheek and then was gone. It happened so quickly that he wasn't sure if he imagined it.
He raised his hand and pressed it to where she had kissed him. The skin was still tingling.
...
She had immediately awoken the Beauxbatons Champion, Fleur Delacour. "Dragons." She had hissed under her breath, cautious not to wake the other slumbering students. She spoke in English, knowing full well that only a few of the students could understand it. "Zee first task, eet is dragons."
Naturally the girl had wanted to discuss it. How did she find out? What task could possibly involve dragons? What strategies could she possibly use? But Madame Maxime had been resolute; they would discuss it in the morning, after a good night's sleep. But sleep seemed to evade the half-giantess. No matter how hard she tried, she could not seem to drift off. Her mind was reeling with so many thoughts that it made her dizzy. The first task would be dangerous. Dragons were temperamental creatures and one false move could be fatal. She would have to come up with a plan that would keep Fleur safe from harm, yet would impress the judges and score her highly.
Sighing deeply, she glanced out the window of her room and between the gap of the silken curtains she could just make out the outline of the groundkeeper's cabin in the twilight.
She had kissed him when she said goodbye.
...
He hadn't felt pain like this in a long time. The day his beloved dad had died, that was probably the last time he had cried with such fervour. He had thought that he'd finally found someone who understood what it was like to be different, and he had tried to express how happy he was at finding a kindred spirit. The other half of his soul he had wanted to say.
He'd pissed it right up though.
He'd presented her with the absolute truth and she had run. 'Big bones' she had claimed and left him with a broken heart and an article ousting him as a half-giant. A monster born of another monster. He was crushed. The things that Skeeter woman had written about him was enough to make him lock himself away and never want to see the light of day again. He'd even tried to resign, but Dumbledore had refused to accept it. His students refused to accept it.
There were so many who accepted him for who he was. He didn't need her. If she couldn't live up to what they were then he would continue on this path without her.
He might drag his feet though, hoping one day she'll catch up with him. But for now, he would survive without her.
The question was how though?
...
The walls she had built to protect herself had finally isolated her from the one who really could love her for what she was, for who she was. He had confessed the truth to her and encouraged her to do the same, then when she hesitated he had nudged her, confronted her with what was so glaringly obvious.
It had stung.
She had allowed herself to be swept along with her pride and fear and the prejudices of a society that could not accept the different. She had thrown it back at him and stormed away, retreating back into her inner sanctuary.
She had cried that night when she realised what she had done. And again when she read the article. She should have known that the damned woman would be sniffing around for her latest scoop. He had sacrificed so much to try and show her he cared and she had been too blind to see it. Every day she watched his cabin, hoping to see a sign of him, to know that he wasn't too hurt by what they said. That he knew that none of them mattered, that he was wonderful and kind and that they were the monsters for judging him for who his mother was.
Why would he listen to her though, when she could not even listen to herself? She was frightened that the world would look at her, with that god awful expression that had always lingered in the back of their gaze. She didn't know what she would do if it was the only look she would ever see again. But she remembered the tender gaze he had given her when they were sat in the gardens the night of the Yule Ball. It had been filled with compassion and tenderness, desire and something she dared not name for fear of watching it slip away.
She had to make peace with him, so that he would look at her in that way again, so that she could return his gaze unashamed.
The question was how though?
It's a bit angsty but most of my works at the moment seem to be. I will write some happier ones soon for this pairing and others. I'm kind of in love with these two at the moment and in my opinion this pairing doesn't get enough appreciation (neither does Hagrid as a character really) and I'm really enjoying writing for them. Anyway, thanks for reading and please leave me a review and let me know if you thought it was any good.