F: First Impressions
Author Note: Am I Joanne Kathleen Rowling? Nope. It's not mine, then. Continuing the full skeleton from the brief summary shown, this mini-series of poetry is about Fleurmione. It's time that I wrote about my guiltiest fanfic pleasure. Fleur/Hermione rules! Each chapter will be subsequent to the previous, with alternating POVs.
She paraded in with the other Beauxbatons students, a duty she secretly hated.
But just before she bowed, prompting her Veela allure, her breath abated.
The moment she saw her, Fleur's head started to spin.
The bushy-haired beauty with an infectious grin.
Maybe she saw that said beauty had glimpsed at her, and gotten a stolen heart.
But then again, that may have been wishful thinking on Fleur's part.
Hallucinations weren't ever for the part-Veela, she got super-delirious.
However, what she felt for the mystery girl from just one look was dead serious.
She had to develop a scheme and think outside the box.
No use donning that in-built oh-so-usual persona of a flirty fox.
Fleur was seen as the queen of cool, but now she had to be the lady who would wait.
The lady who bid her time for the one who caught her eye, and not get in a state.
The mystery girl was in a Gryffindor robe. Strange, for Fleur would have to be brave.
Courage was what she needed to pick up, and she was determined to not to cave.
Fleur knew what she wanted, and what her heart permitted.
Maybe, with time and friendship, her love at first sight wouldn't be unrequited?