A/N A sincere apology to anyone that I have unintentionally adopted ideas from, to say your work is inspiring doesn't begin to cut it. As for my English (grammar, punctuation, spelling etc.) , they don't exactly teach it terribly well in my school. Updates shall be sporadic, after the summer and no guarantee they will be any better during. So I'll leave it at that, enjoy if you can, if not thanks for reading anyway. Let me know if you have any questions, suggestions or if you think it's worth continuing. Obviously this is non for profit and purely a stress reliever, I own only my story none of the characters or the original world it was set in.

Cheers all,

razingcain

Edit: To clear up confusion regarding the language they are speaking I have decided to use a key of sorts which goes as follows-

Italics" = French

"Block"= English

Italics = Thoughts, dreams, surreal moments etc. (in the event these are used) also used for a line or two after chapter title as catch up.

Bold and italicized= Memories (in the event these are used)

Hope this helps make things a little clearer.

Chapter One: In the name of motherly love..

Living on a large patch of land in the French countryside, young Fleur Delacour found the sights, smells and sounds of the larger cities overwhelming and captivating. It was all too easy to get distracted by everything around from the well-kept shop fronts in the central business district to the more dilapidated and run down areas that housed the poor and the homeless.

It was as the nine year old was walking down the streets observing everything with her wide icy blue eyes that a small body barrelled into her knocking her off her feet and winding her. It was with indignation that she half lifted, half shoved the unknown entity off her. Standing before her was a young girl who looked all the younger due to her ill-fitting and tattered clothing, paired with hollow cheeks from obvious malnourishment likely resulting in her diminutive size.

Hastily the girl shook her scraggly mousey brown hair out of her face revealing a pale complexion and deep chocolate brown eyes that betrayed a fiery temperament and intelligence beyond their undoubtedly young years. Although the girl was so very clearly not a local she spoke perfect French and respectfully as she extended a hand to help Fleur on to her feet. 'Sorry Miss, I didn't mean to knock you over.' Although genuine it was clear that the girl was distracted.

'Hey!' The young girl's head snapped around eye's narrowing in fierce determination and the taller boy heading towards them. 'What do you think you're doing London? I'm not done with you!' The boy's speech was rough and although he too was underfed his gangly limbs gave him an unfair advantage over the girl. It was only then that Fleur noticed that both children were bloodied. The girl had numerous scratches, a black eye, busted lip and was struggling to stand straight, however it's clear she gave as good as she got. The boy had a broken nose, blood still pouring from it in rivulets, stepped gingerly and his voice was noticeably higher than it should have been.

Before Fleur could do anything the boy had hauled the girl away and pinned her to the wall of what Fleur presumed must be an orphanage if the grimy faces pressed up against the window were any indication. The girl spat in his face, not bothering to struggle, likely having learned from experience.

It was at that moment that Apolline Delacour made her appearance. 'Fleur! Why did you go off without me?' She sharply reprimanded her daughter before realising that her attention was fixated on the scene before her. It was in that moment that she knew, the girl was her daughters mate. Her brow furrowed and her mouth twisted in disgust. However she was left with no choice.

Apolline tore the older boy off the girl just after he had head butted, dropped and proceeded to lash out at the child. A set of nun's came rushing out of the ruined building. One grabbed the boy and clipped him 'round the ears. 'Phillipe! How dare you? What do you think you are doing? Do you want to end up in a young man's institution?' Her words flew as she scolded the boy who rightly glanced down sheepishly at his toes. 'No Sister,' he replied in a half whisper. She took him firmly by the elbow before leading him inside. Likely to clean him up and set his punishment.

Phillipe however was of no concern to Apolline.

She turned to observe the young girl that had captured her daughter's attention. The nun was doing her best to treat the girl with cloths and water. 'Allow me sister, perhaps it would be better to revive her inside and I may be of assistance.' The nun startled out of her muttering and clumsy motion snapped around to find the Delacour matriarch she gave her a terse nod, brow knitted. Apolline barked an order at Fleur who scurried after them rocking on the balls of her feet wringing her hands worriedly. Together the two carried the prone light body indoors to lay her on the barren and scarred wooden table in what was clearly the dining area.

Apolline requested a bowl and fresh cool water to use to revive the girl. Again the nun merely nodded before rushing out to the well to pump some water as in the house if one could call it that, it was tepid and sour. While the woman was gone Apolline subtly sent a spark of healing through the girl. Large eye's opened unafraid and questioning. 'You were unconscious,' Apolline explained uncharacteristically gently however her tone remained firm. The girl went to nod only to stop, 'Thank you,' she said her voice roughened and hoarse after her ordeal. 'What is your name young one?' Apolline asked gently. 'Hermione,' came the reply, slightly clearer, slightly louder.

The nun rushed over passing Hermione a wooden goblet of water, 'Drink dear.' She then turned to the woman who had helped, 'Thank you Madame, you were most kind if there is anything we can do for you.' It was then that Hermione had her fill and sat up slowly, spotting the girl standing in the corner, it being a small room that was barely two feet away. 'There is in fact something that I would ask of you Sister. Fleur,' her mother's presence was once again commanding when she addressed her daughter. 'Yes Mamman?' 'Keep,' she attempted to keep the disdain out of her voice as she said the distastefully British name, 'Hermione, company while I talk to the sisters.'

Fleur tentatively offered her hand to Hermione who graciously took it despite her curiosity. 'My name is Fleur Delacour,' she introduced herself. Hermione who knew something of manners and chivalry brushed her lips against Fleurs' knuckles, leading her to blush prettily, 'It is a pleasure to meet you Miss Fleur, my name is Hermione.' Fleur chose to bite back the question as to her family name.

It was then that Apolline returned, once again her perfect face distorted by disgust. Sister Marissa who had left with her cleared her throat before motioning to Hermione to speak with her. Hermione frowned going to release Fleur's hand. Panicking Fleur tightened her grasp, a small smile pulled at the edges of her new friend's mouth. After a reassuring squeeze, Hermione assured the young lady who had inadvertently done so much for her that she wasn't going to leave her. Apolline Delacour smirked at this, although she wished it weren't so, the young girl unknowingly spoke the truth.