Okay, so the reason behind this story is that I felt guilty and almost a bit of a traitor for pairing Hermione off with George in my last story. One of my very kind reviewers said that Ron deserves to be happy too, so this is me making amends.
Please feel free to leave opinions and comments, correct my spelling and grammar or point out errors. All input appreciated.
Disclaimer: Not mine, obviously. The site's called fan fiction and we all know the score.
Oblivious
Chapter One - Foundations
Gabrielle Delacour could not believe she had been brought here to this freezing cold country just so she could be fished out of a slimy, murky lake. As always she got roped into her sister's drama and as always she had not been consulted.
Oh Gabrielle, this week we're going to knock you out and sink you to the bottom of a merpeople and grindylow infested loch. That okay with you?
Well, no it wasn't!
And to add insult to injury Fleur had not even manage to rescue her.
Gabrielle was sulking and shivering and managing to pull off a watery version of the famous Delacour pout all at the same time. It really was quite a feat for an eight year old.
"Hey!" Someone interrupted Gabrielle's brooding by sitting down next to her. She noticed that he too was soaking wet and huddled under a blanket. The difference was that he didn't seem bothered.
"It's bloody cold in there, isn't it?" the boy grinned. He had red hair and blue eyes and, upon closer inspection, Gabrielle noticed that he had steam puffing gently out of his ears.
"Oh," he said noticing her staring at him. "Yeah, I forgot… Here you go." The boy handed her a little purple bottle.
"You need to drink it," he added pulling the cork out for her.
Gabrielle took a cautious sip. It tasted revolting but a warm feeling stole though her. Encouraged she necked the rest of the liquid and in a matter of seconds she was no longer chilly and the damp was rising from her in visible clouds of vapour.
"Thank you," she replied as her teeth stopped chattering. She hoped she got the words right. She could follow most of the English conversations that went on but she couldn't speak much of the language yet.
"No problem," the boy shot her a friendly smile.
Glad that he had understood her, Gabrielle beamed back. She wanted to ask him why he had been sent to the bottom of the lake too but before she could form the sentence Fleur bounded over and swept Gabrielle up in a bone crushing hug.
"I'm so glad you're okay," she whispered to her sister. Gabrielle was forced to believe her but she still thought that if her sister was so bothered about her welfare she would have stayed with her rather than flirt with that tall, dopey looking British boy who was gazing, slack-jawed at Fleur from a distance.
Gabrielle was used to boys turning into idiots around her sister. Even the kind red-headed boy was looking dazed.
"Ask him what his name is?" Gabrielle murmured to her sister. Fleur looked surprised but passed on the question.
"Ron…" The boy coughed and looked embarrassed. "Ron Weasley."
A few summers later after Fleur had got engaged to Ron's older brother, Bill, Gabrielle's mother had decided that she wanted to take Fleur and Mrs Weasley out for lunch as a sort of pre-wedding war council. Gabrielle couldn't think of anything more boring. Luckily she wasn't invited and was rather unceremoniously dumped at The Burrow, the Weasley's family home, where Fleur had been staying for a few weeks.
Ron and Ginny were given the task of babysitting her. Gabrielle bristled at first but soon forgot her indignation when she was given a large helping of Mrs Weasley's apple pie and lemonade.
After lunch Ginny got out a roll of parchment and started to write.
"Who are you writing to?" Gabrielle asked. She was a nosy child but artful enough to get away with it.
"Hermione. She's coming to stay in few weeks. Really Ron should be doing this, she supposed to be his friend, but he's allergic to letter writing or something."
Ron just shrugged. "I'm terrible at letters. Anyway she has Harry to write to if she wants a pen pal."
Ginny rolled her eyes and muttered "Boys!" before returning to her letter.
"So, Gabby," Ron said cheerfully. "It's a perfect English summers day…"
Gabrielle glanced dubiously out of the window. Rain lashed down in broad sheets and occasionally lightning flared in the black sky.
"…what would you like to do?"
"I do not mind. What is zere?"
"How about a game of chess?" Ron suggested enthusiastically.
"Don't do it Gabrielle," Ginny intoned, not even looking up from her parchment. "Ron is freakishly good at chess. No one knows why since he's crap at everything else."
Ron didn't seem remotely bothered by that little jibe. "Ginny won't play any more because she's a bad loser," he said mildly.
"Alright. I play very well actually," Gabrielle told him.
"Excellent!" Ron rubbed his hands together in anticipation.
An hour later Gabrielle was in the process of demonstrating just how well she could play. Ginny had abandoned her correspondence and was taking great amusement from the scowl on her brother's face and the mess he had made of his hair as he pulled at it distractedly.
"How old are you again, Gabby?" he asked testily.
"My name is Gabrielle," she corrected him firmly. "And it should not matter how old I am. Fleur said you defeated an enchanted chess set once. I should not be much of a challenge, vrai?
Ron muttered something under his breath and Ginny laughed uproariously.
"I hope you kick his arse, Gabrielle."
Gabrielle smiled in reply and ordered her knight to take Ron's rook. There was a second when the piece protested that she was sending him to his doom but Gabrielle leant in and said sweetly, "Ah, but such a noble end. I know you have a valiant heart."
"There must be a rule against flirting with the pieces," Ron complained.
The game continued evenly for another hour. Gabrielle gave Ron a fierce match, something he hadn't had in a long time, and he had to work hard to control the game. Gabrielle was enjoying herself. Seeing Ron so focused was entertaining to say the least. He was so absorbed in a world of strategy that he was completely oblivious to the growing audience.
Fred and George had rolled in and Ginny had made popcorn. They were all cheering for Gabrielle.
Gabrielle realised that she was going to loose when she noticed Ron's ears turn a vibrant shade of red that was almost on a par with his hair. He had seen an opening and worked out a way to win.
Gabrielle studied the board and tried to see what he had seen. There were a few opportunities open to him but they were easily countered. She had to be missing something.
Tentatively she moved her bishop.
Ron moved his remaining rook with deliberate slowness which told Gabrielle that she had fallen into his trap. In vain she tried to think her way out of it, running methodically through the positions of the pieces but she still couldn't see Ron's plan.
The game was lost. In three further moves Ron had her king in check mate and the game was over. Gabrielle felt obliged to throw a minor sulk but it was mostly for show. She was pleased that she had managed to put up a decent fight and hold Ron's attention for hours.
He sat back in his chair looking at her with something akin to reverence. With a smile he said, "Good game, Gabby."
The third time Gabrielle saw Ron Weasley was at her sister's wedding.
Despite her initial misgivings Gabrielle had been seduced by the dress and the attention and was excited to be a bridesmaid. So much so that Gabrielle had pestered her sister constantly about the wedding and knew almost as much about the arrangements as Fleur did herself.
The day came and it was a beautiful sunny day. The ceremony was to be held in the Weasley's back garden at the Burrow and there were a lot of people there. Gabrielle didn't know many people outside her own family so she shamelessly monopolised those she did.
The Weasley twins chased her around half the morning as she gave them the royal run around.
"Hey Gabrielle, you ever need a job…" George said as he collapsed from exhaustion.
"…come and find us," Fred finished, laughing. "Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes could do with a little minx like you."
Gabrielle giggled and flopped down into a chair wondering what she could do to pass the time until the service. Then she spied a battered chess set tucked away on a side table.
"Where eez Ron?" she asked the boys. "'E will play chess wiz me, I'm sure."
Fred and George swapped a pointed look and shifted uncomfortably.
"Erm.. I'm sure he'll turn up eventually…" Fred said shrugging.
"But he cannot miss ze wedding!" Gabrielle was scandalised. Then after a moment's thought, "Is 'Ermione his girlfriend?"
The twins laughed hysterically as thought she had cracked the funniest joke of all time.
"Really I do not see what eez funny," Gabrielle pouted. "Ginny, she goes out wiz 'Arry. It would make perfect sense, non?"
"Our little brother is a bit of a prat when it comes to girls," George told her in a confiding tone.
"So he does not like her?" Gabrielle tried to clarify.
Another bout of helpless laughter.
"Why are you so interested, soon-to-be little sister?" Fred said slyly.
"I just wondered…" Gabrielle replied unembarrassed. "I expect Victor will wonder too."
"Krum?" said George.
"Yes. Fleur invited 'im to ze wedding. He asked about 'Ermione in his letter."
"How do you know?" Fred said conspiratorially.
"I read them," Gabrielle grinned wickedly, "while my sister and Bill were 'walking'." Gabrielle scrunched up her face indicating that she highly doubted that walking was the pastime the young lovers were indulging in.
"Give the kid a cracker, Fred!" George snorted with amusement.
"We'll make a Weasley of you yet, Gabrielle," Fred said, impressed.
"But I would 'ave to marry to take zat name," the little girl said seriously. "Luckily for me, after Bill, there are many other Weasleys to choose from."
"Fred," George said turning to his twin. "I'm scared now."
"I'm bloody terrified," Fred agreed.
They both looked at the twelve year old witch sitting across from them and it suddenly hit them that not only was she growing up, but she was growing up into a heartbreaking half-veela. And by the look on her face they reckoned Gabrielle would take no prisoners.
"She will be sick if 'e keeps on spinning her like zat," Fleur Weasely complained to her husband of a scant few hours.
Bill glanced over at his youngest brother dancing enthusiastically with his new sister-in-law. He was not remotely interested but he was prepared to humour his wife.
Ron, at over six foot tall, was twirling Gabrielle like a top. She seemed to be enjoying it and Bill was glad to see Ron loosen up.
When Bill had arrived at The Burrow that afternoon to get dressed for the ceremony, Ron's demeanour had set Bill on edge. Bill was used to seeing Harry look tired and serious but he could usually rely on Ron to keep the mood light. But even Ron had seemed distracted and the forced smile on his brother's face worried Bill more than he would like to admit.
After a while though, both teenagers managed to relax and sank gratefully back into the familial idle of The Burrow and Bill could turn his thoughts back to his wedding day. Just one day away from the war.
"They seem fine," Bill said soothingly.
"Perhaps," Fleur shrugged. "I think Ron should be careful though. Gabrielle is at zat age."
"What age?" Bill said intrigued. "What do you mean?"
"What age do you think? She's starting to like boys and I think she might have a crush on your bother," Fleur said factually.
"On Ron? You must be joking?" Bill laughed at the absurdity of it. "Come on, darling. She's got to have more taste than that."
"'Ow can you say zat? 'E is you bruzzer!" Fleur's accent veered dangerously toward the French end. That was how Bill could tell she was angry. He was starting to get cross too; why on earth were they arguing about Ron. On their wedding day!
"In any case, I do not think you give 'im enough credit," Fleur continued. "'E fights on ze side of good in a war that should not have fallen to someone that age. You and I, we had a choice of sorts. Ron did not. But 'e is still loyal and brave – like you. Why shouldn't Gabrielle follow my example and choose someone with those most excellent qualities."
"She's twelve," Bill pointed out.
"Then it is less of an age difference than between you an me," Fleur insisted stubbornly.
"Ron likes Hermione," Bill countered.
"They are not suited," Fleur said dismissively. "They argue too much."
"We argue," Bill grinned kissing his wife's neck. "Sometimes that's the best part."
"Ah," Fleur sighed as she submitted to his attentions. "That I will not deny."