Hi guys, back again with a new story that I had to do after seeing a prompt on the OTPPrompts page on Tumblr.
An AU of sorts, with the Wizarding world a part of their lives - just imagine that Hermione could never warm to Fleur during her visits to the Burrow or Shell Cottage. Also, a rather important detail, Fleur never married Bill but their relationship is positive and somewhat a sibling dynamic, with good relations with the Weasley family. I think Hermione would be about 20/21 and Fleur should be about 23/24.
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05:14pm, October 12th, 2000.
Emerging from her fireplace Fleur Delacour was the image of poise. She (gracefully) dropped her bag in her empty flat, kicking off her heels and letting her bare feet sink into the pristine cream rug. Upon first appearances you'd think she hadn't a care in the world. With her youth, beauty and wealth why wouldn't her life be perfect – she was a Delacour after all, and that's what they were known for.
While this was somewhat true and her only real stresses were whether The Goblins made her stay late at work and what recipe she should make from her immense collection of cookbooks (adapting the measurements for one of course), Fleur couldn't help but feel the slightest gnaw of loneliness when she would arrive back home. It's not like she didn't have her friends or her family, but most of them were in France and with her sister still at Beauxbatons and her parents travelling due to their involvement with the interpretations of magical artefacts it was rather sad arriving back to another empty home.
She didn't even think about meeting men anymore. No longer did she want to deal with the long line of men who came under her veela charms, becoming a drooling and babbling mess whenever she tried to speak with the majority of them. She knew not to blame them, it truly wasn't their fault her effect was so strong, but that didn't stop her from rolling her eyes.
It became a habit of Fleur's, when she'd moved to London after her appointment at Gringotts, to spend her nights outside on her private balcony. With a gorgeous view of London's skyline Fleur took pride that her balcony was at the top of the building, giving her the privacy of being able to dress as much or as little as she wanted (and she usually opted for the latter). There was however a balcony directly to her left that she knew belonged to an elderly couple whom she'd had pleasant conversations with over how to cook the perfect genoise sponge. They'd told her they were planning on selling the property and moving to the Bahamas as soon as they could and she'd wished them the best of luck, attempting to hide her distain at losing good neighbours (who never used their balcony).
So after dinner as she silently slid out into the cool evening air she almost dropped her sketchbook when her vision was overcome with a wave of bushy, brown and beautiful hair.
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07:27pm, October 12th.
This girl, scratch that, this woman. Hermione Jean Granger, whom Fleur hadn't seen in nearly two years after she'd gone back to finish her seventh year at Hogwarts and was now working at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures (not that Fleur checked up on her every few months) was completely and utterly oblivious to Fleur's awestruck staring. She stood their, fingers wrapped tightly around the sketchbook she clung to her chest, a chilling breeze blowing her hair wildly across her face with her lips slightly agape. This woman, who ignored her at Shell Cottage, who purposely avoided her at the Burrow and who used her best scowl whenever she spoke was meters away from her reading. This woman, who's laugh has been the only thing to make Fleur smile at one dark point during the war, who's thirst for knowledge made Fleur want to better herself, who's very self was one of the reasons she and so many people she loved were still alive was sat, tea placed precariously on an immense pile of books, reading.
By sheer coincidence (or bad luck) a flock of birds dove past making Hermione's eyes shoot up and land directly on Fleur. Fleur, at this point, wearing an unimpressive pair of sweatpants and an old hoody she'd acquired when attempting to get into running was so alarmed Hermione was staring directly at her she stepped back, knocking her chair to the opposite end of her balcony.
"Merde," She uttered, bending down to cradle her now pounding foot. Fleur didn't get nervous. Sure the Triwizard tournament had been scary and sometimes she still had nightmares, but she had the skill and knew she'd be fine – even if her performance had been pretty appalling upon reflection. Even during the war she hadn't had time to think about her feelings and just got on with things. So talking to people was simply a breeze. So how did Hermione Granger make her act like such a fool?
"Fleur?" Came the hesitant voice of the younger witch who she could imagine had closed her book but marked her place almost militarily. Fleur placed her head against the cool white stone, the barrier blocking her reddening face from Hermione.
"Hermione!" Fleur replied, as coolly as she could manage (not at all), standing up a little too quickly and placing her own book behind her back. "It's been a while, hm?"
"What are you doing here?" Came the curt reply from the Gryffindor whose arms were folded steadily across her chest. Her signature scowl had found its way to her stunning face making Fleur think how much she preferred her expression when she hadn't been aware of her presence. While feeling her heart drop at the girls readiness to be hostile she also couldn't stop her racing heart at the prospect of living next to the main reason she couldn't marry Bill.
Placing a hand on her hip she put on what she hoped was an award winning smile. "Well I've lived here for two years, so shouldn't it be me asking you that very question?" She could see the shorter girl's cheeks redden in the darkening light and had to hold back the urge to try and reach out and touch the flood of curls framing her face perfectly. It was only a slab of stone that was blocking her from reaching out to touch Hermione but it felt more like being in a jail cell. The (annoying) thing about being quarter veela is that you fall for certain people much harder than the average person and when that happens there's really no escaping those feelings par death or falling for someone else – which was rare. Yet there were the plusses that your veela charms do help people fall for you. Except for when those people were immune, like Hermione.
"The Ministry buys property I'm sure you know," Hermione turned her sharp gaze from Fleur across to watch the setting sun, allowing Fleur to see the exact moment her striking features softened. "They put me here so I'd be near the Portkey in Hyde Park, it takes me directly to the Beast division who we've been having... problems with," Hermione let her arms drop to her sides as she turned to Fleur once again "It's simply for work, and I wanted a change anyway. I had no idea you lived here, plus it's none of your business," she added quickly, grabbing what looked like an old copy of 'Hogwarts: A History' and marching back into her flat, leaving a fairly stunned Fleur in her wake.
Sitting down glumly at having a not so positive first impression with her neighbour she let her sketchbook drop onto her lap and opened to a fresh page. Instinctively she began to draw the younger witch, letting the pencil glide delicately across the paper. Almost instantaneously she felt her shoulders becoming lighter and her heart rate slowing to a more normal level. Before the war Fleur had loved art but there had never been much time for painting at Beauxbatons. Thus when the war was finally over Fleur told herself that whenever she had free time, which was a lot now, she would spend it working on her paintings or simply doodling. However her favourite thing to draw were portraits, and she'd never done the one she truly wanted to draw, until now. She could easily recreate Hermione's features from the hundreds of pictures she'd found in the Daily Prophet or in the Burrow but she still wished she had her model in front of her, especially when tackling the sheer amount of curls.
As Fleur was about to finish the sketch fifteen minutes later she heard the crack of an opening door, the clinking of a cup and the closure all done very slowly in an attempt to be as silent as possible. A small smile formed on her face as she closed her book and sighed.
"The English and their tea."
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07:00am, October 13th. (Friday)
Groggily opening her eyes to the blaring of her muggle alarm, Fleur reached over and turned it off with an exasperated tap. Unfortunately sleep had not come easy and after hours of tossing and turning, flinging the duvet to the floor and then regretfully having to get up and put it back on, Fleur had only found sleep at around four in the morning. Making a mental note to buy a sleeping draught in Diagon Alley Fleur started her lengthy morning routine to get ready for work.
Due to her lack of sleep and focus being on a certain someone only a wall away Fleur took even longer than usual to finish everything. Yet, as she did so every morning, she went to the back of her building into a communal courtyard that no one seemed to use during the winter months and was greeted by a small white cat. Replacing the old bowl with a fresh one of Whiskers (that she still gagged at the sight of) the tiny cat rubbed itself against her calf, a quiet purring accompanying the morning birds.
"Bonjour, Trésor" She mused, gently sliding her hand over his fur as he began to eat the mess that she had put down. Checking her watch she pulled herself up quickly, rushing back inside to make it on time, unbeknown to her was the presence of the young Gryffindor staring down at the duo two stories up curiously.
When Fleur finally arrived at work she was only just on time and got numerous dirty looks from different Goblins as the sound of her heels reverberated around Gringott's hall – not that this was any different from her usual, more punctual, entrances.
Spending an uneventful morning having consultations with numerous witches and wizards, as well as politely declining the numbers of five different people, Fleur found herself finishing work early at one o'clock on the dot. Therefore Fleur, otherwise excelling as potions back at school, much preferred to buy them from the apothecary rather than having her home smelling of miscellaneous ingredients for days on end. Thus she found herself waiting for her potion to be completed by visiting Florean's Ice Cream Parlour for what she believed was a well deserved reward.
Placing herself outside with a scoop of chocolate and raspberry she leant back against her chair, letting her hair fall picturesquely over the end. Pulling her coat tightly around her middle she almost laughed as she ate her ice cream (alone) in the chilly October weather, suddenly remembering her little sister shouting 'It's never too cold for ice cream, Fleur' during a family holiday to the Alps. She was glad it was so busy around this time in Diagon Alley, enjoying the hustle and bustle in front of her, as everyone was too preoccupied to notice her watching them. That was until she caught sight of a familiar fiery red colour in her peripheral, situated next to a much shorter and more female accomplice with curlier and browner hair indeed. Whipping her head to the side she focused in on Monsieur Weasley and none other than Hermione. Turning back to her half finished ice cream she bent herself forward, trying her hardest to appear as inconspicuous as possible. Yet she could see the youngest male Weasley had indeed spotted her and had promptly pointed her out to Hermione.
Unfortunately for Fleur, the shorter girl who previously looked as though she had been ignoring Ron turned to look in her direction. Now from what Fleur could make out, Hermione didn't pull a face that said complete disgust as the Weasley boy continued to speak somewhat flamboyantly, she most notably didn't turn to leave in the opposite direction either. Taking this as a small victory and concluding Hermione didn't hate her enough to flee to the Himalayas when Fleur was around, she decided to make their presence known. Looking up she feigned momentary surprise at the duo and sent them a friendly wave.
Ron, who had just barely grown out of his infatuation with Fleur, sent a bright smile back while Hermione stood awkwardly next to him fiddling with her particularly gorgeous cherry scarf. Fleur had almost relaxed until Ron began making his way towards her. Taking a deep breath and reluctantly putting her spoon down Fleur stood up and closed the gap between her and the Weasley boy.
"Bonjour, Ronald," greeted Fleur fondly, leaning in for her traditional kiss on the cheek greeting. It was hard not to fall in love with all of Bill's family, even if Ron acted quite simple sometimes.
"You alright Fleur? Long time no see!" Replied the slightly shorter boy, pulling away from Fleur's French greeting.
"Oui, I'm quite alright. And yourself?" Fleur let her hands clasp together in front of her as she tried to pay attention to Ron. It was becoming increasingly difficult when a certain witches gaze was resting directly on Fleur.
"Oh yeah we're good. Bill was telling me you're coming for his birthday next week. It's gonna be mad, Harry's coming, Neville will be there with Luna. Oh and Hermione's coming too obviously," He gestured behind him to the shorter girl who's gaze met with Fleur's for only one painful second.
Putting her longing to the side, for now, Fleur mustered the most excited smile she could "I'm very much looking forward to seeing everyone again!" Fleur wasn't sure Hermione had told anyone she was living directly next to her, but why would she even bother telling anyone that in the first place, it's not as if Fleur regularly kept in touch with much of the old gang except for Bill. Although she did write Harry every few months who kept her up to date with the goings on of all her old friends, he would also send her muggle cooking magazines which she was truly appreciative of. Sure she could buy them herself, but it ruined the surprise of opening a huge hall of his old magazines.
"Well we should get going, Mione and I were just picking up a few things for her house warming party tomorrow. Why don't you come along? The more the merrier right Hermione?" He turned expectantly to Hermione who's face looked adorably surprised.
"I wouldn't want to barge in on Hermione's new home," Interjected Fleur, nervously clasping her hands together once again. "Plus I probably have some work to finish up tomorrow anyway," Lied an increasingly nervous Fleur.
"No, he's right," Said a hesitant Hermione, "It'll be fun, please come Fleur. It starts at six." Fleur felt her face heat up as she rubbed the back of her neck timidly.
"Well... Ok, I'll see you both tomorrow then," replied Fleur. Pulling her coat tighter round her middle to ensure they thought her shaking was from the cold, she said a quick farewell and went to go pick up her potion. From behind her however she heard a confused Ronald ask Hermione a pretty obvious question.
"But Mione, how does she know where you live?"
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Well there you guys go!
I hope you like this impromptu Fleurmione fic, honestly this is one of my favorite ships in the entire world. Now I know Bill's birthday is in November, but let's pretend it's in October, let's call it – artistic license – anyways.
Let me know what you think! This story definitely isn't finished but I'm not sure how many chapters it might be.