This is a love story from the perspective of Rubeus Hagrid and Olympe Maxime, which takes place at the end of the Triwizard Tournament. Ive always felt like these two deserved a story of their own in which their personalities, history and romantic relationship comes though. Here is my attempt. I hope you all enjoy.
My story is rated M because it gets much more graphic in latter chapters.
All Characters belong to JK Rowling.
Hagrid sat in the dim light of his hut listening to the soothing rhythm of rain trickling outside. On this particular night he neither had the will to surround himself with the company of his fellow professors, nor posses the motivation to cook anything for himself. All the man could do was sit, Fang at heal, and relive his actions on the night of the Yule Ball.
It had been five long months since that horrible Skeeter article announced his heritage to the world, outing him as the half-breed he was always so ashamed of. However, Hagrid wasn't currently occupied with what that Skeeter woman published about him. No, it was his actions towards the only woman he felt so deeply for that played in his memory like a broken record.
"If I only waited," the half-giant thought to himself, "got to know her better, perhaps… perhaps…"
Hagrid lingered on this thought for a while. "Perhaps what?" he continued to himself. He had festered on exact thought for months, only to arouse a clutter of conflicting emotions.
"Yea, so what? I've 'ad others. Plenty o' them…" he continued aloud, justifying his sexual past to some unknown defendant, "...though, most 'ave been curious 'bout me size, so to speak. Curious 'bout what the 11' foot giant 'as packaged away. No, not 'bout me person or soul but…" Hagrid stopped there. His sudden outburst of thought woke up his dozy companion and now had a pair of lazy eyes looking right up at him.
It was true that Hagrid has had many lovers throughout the years and by no means was short of inexperienced. However, his suitors were women who took an interest in him because of his noticeable size. Many of his past 'flings' were the least bit interested in the loving heart or gentile soul of the enormous man, but mainly intrigued by what they imagined to hang between his legs. True, he's never disappointed their expectations, which aroused a small feeling of pride in the giant. But mainly, it made him feel a deep sense of insecurity.
"Ah, ain't no one ever going to love me," He grimly thought, "I blew it with the one woman who I could 'ave a real relationship. O'lymp knew the pain o' bein different… HA! But she ain't goin' ter admit THAT. Why would I to be with a woman who's ashamed o' what she is? Ain't no way I'm lyin' to meself!"
Hagrid knew that wasn't true. He was lying to himself, and he knew it.
"But…" he started out loud, only to receive the raised eyebrows of his lazy boar-hound. "O'lymp knows the pain. O' course she do. But no woman, let 'lone a MADAME would admit that. As well, wouldn't mind a woman with some true meat on 'er bones, ya' know. A woman a could 'old without hurtin' er, if ye get me drift." He chuckled the last part down to his canine companion, who only started blankly back at his master with a slightly cocked head.
Hagrid had always been extremely delicate with his suitors, considering the fact that he was petrified by the thought of accidently snapping a woman in two. However, that primal voice which never truly dies out within a man aroused a very animalistic thought.
"I wouldn't 'ave to hold back with 'er, now would I? Not that I'd hurt 'er, but she never struck me as the 'delicate flower' type. Her eyes- them big beautiful black eyes- always seemed like they had a fire ragin' behind 'em. Must be that French blood in her; passionate an' feisty they are. O' I bet O'lymp is dyin' for a bloke like me givin' er the attention she deserves. A bloke that worship a woman 'er size like the goddess she is and, if she'd let me, a little more."
With a sly smile painted across his face, the giant let out a deep chuckle. Voicing his juvenile fantasies was something Hagrid didn't do often, but despite their fallout on the night of the Yule Ball, the half-giant never prevented these thoughts from lingering in the back of his mind. The man couldn't help it, regardless of the emotions he harvested towards her; these 'thoughts' would sneak up on regardless of what the man might have been doing. Randomly, images of Olympe's graceful figure would consume his mind, swaying sensually to some sweat music he couldn't hear, catching him off guard by bring a warm sensation to his lower stomach. Reminiscing about the time they spend getting to know one another, Hagrid's heart would melt remembering how her plump lips would slightly purse before turning into a coquettish smile. He would often find himself lying awake well into the night fantasizing about those voluptuous velvety lips fervently interlocking with his, occasionally biting his lower lip or giving him a playful lick.
Even worse was when he would occasionally see her eating at the staff table when he decided to have meal in the great hall. Most of the time Olympe would be consumed in a book as she ate, barely paying attention to the food in front of her, as she would write notes for her next class. On occasion she would be idly chatting with who ever struck up a conversation with her, which would cause Hagrid to be overcome with an immature sense of hostility towards her.
Hagrid was tenacious about making sure she never caught his making occasional glances and unknown to him, she would be doing the same. Occasionally, he couldn't help but notice her long delicate neck that led into a tasteful décolletage, decorated by elegant collarbones. She once caught him staring right at her as he was seemly frozen and time, fork lingering in his mouth with a piece of meat still attached. He quickly realized that she was staring right at him and met her eyes before hastily looking back down at him food, face blushing a magnificent shade bright red. Hagrid was too busy imaging himself kissing his way down her neck as she forcefully pushed her body up against his to realize that she looked up from writing her lesson plans to reach for the ratatouille to her left. Considering how embarrassed he felt, he neglected to notice that her lips curled into a frown. As much as he resented her reaction the night of the Yule Ball, Hagrid couldn't help his lingering mind from drifting upon the unique beauty of the French woman.
"Who the hell am I kiddin. I blew it, 'nd there's no turnin' that around," Hagrid declared to his boarhound. "Best get me mind off it; it ain't to good to linger on the past, especially when it holds no future."
At that moment the half-giant propelled himself out of his massive armchair and made his way towards the entrance of his hut.
'Common, Fang. We got a maze to finish up."
Madame Maxime watched from the window of her office as the Hogwarts caretaker made his way towards the Hogwarts Quittich pitch. Walking by without even a glance towards the mansion of a carriage, Olympe couldn't notice the feeling of disappointment that came over her.
"Putain de merde," she swore under her breath as she tossed he quill to the opposite side of her table. She missed him. She missed him terribly.
"What was I thinking? Why did I act so asininely to a man who was pouring his heart out to me," she thought to her self, "one of the only men who has ever made the effort. I should have kissed him or at least changed the subject, but I foolishly got carried away with my damn emotions. He was offering me no offense; it was quite the contrary, you stupid woman."
It wasn't like she neglected to apologize. Three months back she approached Hagrid while he was digging a massive patch near his cabin in hopes to make peace. Unfortunately, her attempted ended in a heated argument in which, realizing her loss, she left with unresolved sense defeat.
"Ugh," she thought to herself. "Why the hell is the man being so stubborn?"
"Oh why do you care if you ever speaking to him again?" whispered her conscious, "He is simply a professor at Hogwarts, our rival school, nothing special."
"Ouais." She answered aloud the small voice in her head.
"But," the voice continued, "a very tall, rugged, and masculine professor. One who makes you feel small in his presence." She didn't combat the voice knowing full well of the truth behind its words. "Don't kid yourself, Olympe. You can't help but notice how burly and strong he is; He handles your herd of Abraxans like they are mere ponies. Don't deny that you've laid awake at night imagining how easily he could handle you."
"Oh quiet!" She stated to the voice. She didn't want to continue down that train of thought, considering that it only lead to self-resentment and frustration.
The voice was on to something though. Olympe was missing the time they spent getting to know one another at the beginning of Tri-Wizard tournament. At first she was skeptical of the untamed and wild-looking and man, believing that there must have only been a slight attraction based on their mutual height. However, after getting to know him she was surprised to find out how much of the two got on so well. Hagrid was kind, warm, considerate, funny (when his nerves didn't get to him) and very intelligent when it came to magical creatures. He was the only person, besides her self, who her herd of Abraxans immediately warmed up to and let handle without issue. They still do to this day and despite their mutual hostility, Hagrid still treats them with the best of care.
Olympe sighed to herself. "What eez ze point of reminiscing," she said allowed, "eet eez pointless. He eez too stubborn, and so are you. After ze third task, we will never 'ave to see him again. So stop ziz madness, Olympe."
With this thought, she decided it was best to continue her work and picked up her quill once again to commence on boring paper work in hopes to distract her mind from Rubeus Hagrid.