A/N: Hey there. So, I've never written anything like this before. I'm trying out different writing styles so, bear with me, yeah? This is my first fan fiction of this kind and I really hope I can get it right. This is really an experiment so depending on the response I'll continue or not. :] So let me know, ya?

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Maybe I'm crazy
Maybe you're crazy
Maybe we're crazy
Probably

-'Crazy', Gnarls Barkley

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Chapter 1: Crazy

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Destiny, that unknown force which supposedly lead you in the direction you were meant to take in life. It accounts for every action, every word and every look. If something good happens, it is due to destiny. If something bad happens, it is destiny's fault.

In Greek mythology, there were three Fates that controlled a person's life. Three days after a child was born the Moirae (Fates) would show up to determine what kind of life that child would lead. They were always depicted as cold, unfeeling and remorseless.

In religion, fate was personified by God or by multiple gods. God's will created all things and caused all things to happen to his subjects. No single person seemed to be responsible for their actions or the things that happened to them.

But where was the individual's choice in all of this? Was destiny actually an individual's decision of what happens next?

Fleur Delacour did not know the answer to the questions, but they haunted her daily. Did the elder Delacour daughter end up in her troublesome predicament through fate? Choice? Or by some god playing a bad joke on her?

She had yet to figure it out.

The blonde part-veela stared out her window to watch the rain drop to Earth in its magnificent way, mulling the questions over in her mind. The window seat gave her an ample view of the grounds of Hogwarts, with an especially pleasing view of the lake. One of the few things she was enjoying about living in at Hogwarts.

The rain pelted against her window in the familiar pattern that soothed her. Her shoulders began to relax and she sighed with contentment. Because of the way almost every male and many females saw her, Fleur was known for being an airhead, a flirt and flamboyant. Few people saw her other side and Fleur wanted to keep it that way.

Fleur continued to stare out her window with a look of longing. The rain was so tempting, inviting her to go outside and stand under the drops of cool water. Destiny, fate, the words were so foreign but they attracted her thoughts like a wand to its owner. Was destiny playing some cruel trick on her? Why had she fallen for one who would never feel the same about her? Why was she now setting out to woo one of the few people who hated her? How could one accomplish such an endeavor?

And when did she become so damn pessimistic?

A growl of frustration bubbled up in her throat as she tried to focus on her situation with a certain curly-haired witch—the maddening situation that was consuming the blonde's very life. When had life and love become so difficult?

It had been two years, five months and six days since Fleur had treated Hermione at Shell Cottage. It had been five years, ten months and ten days since Fleur had first seen the brunette (not that she was counting). For five years, ten months and ten days she had had to live with a secret that was destroying her soul and her sanity. For five years, she had been forced to put aside her own love in order to help others.

Why did she do it to herself?

It was a question her parents, sister and everyone who knew her well asked. Why was she choosing to allow her heart (and her sanity) to suffer? In all honesty, Fleur didn't have a reasonable answer herself.

That was what she kept telling herself.

Damn the veela blood coursing through her veins. Damn the fact that she couldn't love like any other human being. And damn the fact that she couldn't have been happy with Bill Weasley no matter how much she wanted to. They had parted ways as very good friends, but it had made for quite the scandal.

The separation had happened when Fleur had received a wake up call about her false love for the red-headed werewolf. She had tried convincing herself for three years that he was the one. That he was her destined mate and that she wouldn't be happy with anyone else. Of course her family, her veela ancestry and even Bill himself at times would hint, tell her out right or scream it in her face that he wasn't the one (Bill was never one to tell her out right or scream anything.).

When Bill decided to finally act on the lack of complete and utter love and devotion, their marriage went downhill. Rather than be a coward and hide from the truth, Fleur had told him everything and they remained together for a little while longer, restoring their friendship. When they announced the divorce to both families, the reactions were so entirely different it would have made the divorcees laugh, had it not been a serious issue.

Fleur let out another soft sigh and rested her cheek against the window, relishing the feel of the cold glass against her cheek.

Her mind began to wander yet again and she couldn't remember a time when she had been so completely distracted by her own thoughts. However, it was beginning to happen more and more as of late and it wasn't something she was enjoying very much.

She knew she should do something, get out of her head before her thoughts were dragged back to the painful subject she tried to avoid. Fleur knew she should be writing lesson plans or replying to a letter from Gabrielle. As much as she wanted to, however, she couldn't drag herself off of the seat that held her so lovingly. Her eyes fluttered shut and she inhaled and exhaled deeply. Then before she knew it, she was gone to the waking world and had stepped into a world of dreams.

Knock, knock. Fleur's eyes snapped open and scrambled to stand up straight, gasping with pain as her joints refused to obey her. Luckily her moments of ungainliness generally happened when she was alone. Cursing herself in French for staying in one position for too long, the blonde witch headed for the door. She passed by a window and cursed again when she saw that it was dark out—although the rain was still falling.

Recently, exhaustion had become an unwelcome companion that stayed with her no matter how long she slept. A problem she had yet to figure out how to solve (an addition to the many already present).

The knocks came again, louder and more persistently this time. "Coming!" Fleur called. Her accent had calmed down considerably over the years she had spent with Bill and she could even pronounce the letter h—something she was quite proud of.

"Minerva, what a surprise! I wasn't expecting anyone to visit me for a while," a bittersweet smile crossed her face with the confession. She had no friends with in the staff at Hogwarts and she wasn't expecting any of her family or Bill anytime soon.

The older woman smiled briskly, "I came to see how you were doing. I wanted to see if you needed any assistance with your… condition," she said delicately, as if unsure how to proceed.

Fleur laughed quietly and shook her head, "I am fine Mademoiselle McGonagall. Really, there is no need to worry about me. I will not die of exhaustion despite what many might think. Although I do appreciate you coming out here," she said lightly, carelessly, as if her "condition" really did not matter. Though she was inwardly wondering why the headmistress of Hogwarts would personally come and check up on her. Madame Pomfrey was certainly just as capable, if not more so with her knowledge of ailments.

"Well that is good to know. It's just that I received an owl from your mother that she is concerned about you," the Headmistress disclosed, causing Fleur to turn red.

"Ah, well you know mothers. They can worry quite needlessly sometimes," she replied nervously, wondering how in the hell any of this had happened. It was unusual to say in the least that McGonagall herself would come check up on Fleur on a random day of the week at some hour in the night. Even more unusual was her mother sending a letter to McGonagall. Fleur's hand tightened on the door knob as she thought about what her mother could have written to McGonagall that would send her out and why she had written it.

The Headmistress cleared her throat and Fleur realized that they were still in the doorway. She let out a sound of embarrassement and beckoned for McGonagall to come inside. Once they were both in, with the door shut Fleur quickly lit a fire in the fireplace and led the older woman to sit down.

"I take it there is another reason you're here, no?" Fleur asked, seating herself across from McGonagall. Absently, as if the action wasn't really intended to warm her up, she rubbed her arms against the cold that had invaded her clothing. The other woman, whom Fleur had always seen sitting or standing ramrod straight, leaned back against the cushion of the couch. An act that was highly unusual and worried Fleur.

"Yes, in fact, I had been thinking about this ever since you told me about your predicament," she sighed and Fleur looked on in confusion, "Fleur, Hermione Granger is going to be coming back to the school to teach."

The younger woman froze, all reality melting away but the two words. That name, the one she had refused to even think for over a year. The name that had haunted her for five long years and made her want to tear her hair out. Surely she had heard wrong (right) and it was a different name (not possible).

"I'm sorry?" her tone was disbelieving, but she knew what the answer would be so she was not surprised when McGonagall gave her a sour look.

"Since Hogwarts closed down last year for repairs, it gave me more time to look for a Transfiguration professor. I had already gotten you to be my Defense Against the Dark Arts professor when Hermione contacted me and asked for a job here. Therefore I gave her the Transfiguration class. After all she was always quite a talented witch. I will still be helping her of course."

So she had known. McGonagall had known for a while that Hermione would be teaching with Fleur. She had known for about the same time she had known about Fleur's condition. Fleur ended up putting two and five together and came up with the letter being the push McGonagall needed to actually tell Fleur about it.

"But you knew about my condition…?" The words were quiet and strained, spoken around thoughts that where whirling inside her head.

"Yes, but I did not know how severe it was until the letter," the older woman explained, confirming for Fleur that two and five did in fact equal seven.

"I see," her voice was still soft and the headmistress leaned forward slightly, looking worried. Fleur smiled wanly and cleared her throat, "Where are my manners? Can I offer you anything to drink? Tea? Something stronger?" she asked, making as if to get up. Exhaustion tugged at her muscles, however, trying to hold her back. Fleur sighed inwardly with relief when McGonagall shook her head and smiled tightly.

"I'm afraid I cannot stay, it's getting late and I have some business to attend to before tomorrow," she replied, standing up briskly and heading to the door. Fleur made to get up again, "No need to see me out, Fleur. I know where the door is and you need your rest. She is arriving tomorrow, in case you were wondering," the door slammed shut after her last words and Fleur jumped.

She couldn't believe this was happening. Everything that had just occurred within the last few minutes circled her mind in an endless loop. Nothing made sense and Fleur was positive she was going crazy.

After a few minutes of sitting down with her mind battling between trying to figure out what had just happened and exhaustion kicking in, exhaustion finally won out. With a groan of effort Fleur got up and slowly made her way to the bedroom. Once there she undressed, threw on a nightgown and collapsed on the bed.

She was going to need all the sleep she could get.