A.N: Thank you guys for all the follows and reviews! I apologize in advance for any mistake I might have overlooked. If something doesn't sound right, sorry, it's probably my non-english-speaking roots showing.
Hope you guys have as much fun reading as I did writing it :)
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The air quickly became thick in the girls' room at the Burrow and one Ginny Weasley knew better than to stay for the outcome of whatever was to happen. She had only known the Delacour matriarch a couple of days, but from the way the brunette witch got tense at hearing the woman's voice, that wasn't the case for Hermione. If she hadn't been able to convince Hermione to stay, perhaps Madame Delacour would have a better chance. So with a short nod in acknowledgment to the older veela, Ginny was gone from the room.
The poised veela walked fully inside the room and the door was closed with a wandless spell. Hermione was afraid to turn and face the woman because she knew what would happen if she did so, but she didn't count on the woman moving swiftly in front of her and into her personal space.
"Did you hear me, child?"
When she finally looked up, she saw not the disappointment she had expected, but a deep kindness and concern reflected back to her eyes. That was the tipping point to her resistance and self control. She broke down sobbing and the older woman seemed nothing if not prepared as she held the falling body of the frail young witch.
"I can't do this, Apolline" Hermione weeped.
"Yes, you can, ma petite loutre. However troubled you might feel right now, it shall pass. We are far more resilient than we give ourselves credit for, and you my dear is one of the most resilient witches I've had the pleasure of meeting." voiced Apolline affectionately. She had seen many go through what the brunette was feeling and it was never once pretty or pleasant.
"It feels as though the cruciatus curse is cast whenever I see her smiling at him. How can I watch her accept him as her husband? How can I sit quietly and watch them bond each other for life?"
A somber look crossed the older Delacour "You do not know the pain of such curse, child. If you did, you would not say those words. Torture, causing others pain for one's pleasure, is the vilest of things"
"I have watched you and Fleur hurt each other, but I have yet to see either take pleasure from such actions." asserted Apolline.
"She hates me, Apolline. I tried to...but she hates me" said Hermione.
"She does not, but would you blame her if she did?" Madame Delacour questioned and Hermione conceded.
"No, I wouldn't"
"She could never hate someone she loved so deeply, ma petite loutre. I loathe to admit that my oldest, broody child has never shone as bright as those winter days you first spent in our home. She is simply a stubborn woman. I blame her father, of course."
Hermione chuckled through her tears as they both knew whom Fleur and Gabrielle had taken to.
"As were you once a stubborn woman. She once gave you space and respect to take responsibility for your own bad decisions, now has come the time for you to give her that courtesy." conveyed the veela. "Don't leave my daughter's side, Hermione. She needs you more today than any other day"
Apolline continued to hold her as she cried the last of her tears, aware that she could no longer go ahead with her plans to flee the ceremony.
When she first met the veela matriarch she had been so scared that she nearly jumped for the portkey back to Hogsmeade from where she had traveled with her then girlfriend. There was no doubt that Monsieur Delacour was by far the most welcoming Delacour at first. Madame Delacour watched for afar most of the days that she first spent at the Delacour mansion. It wasn't during the good times that Hermione developed the close relationship she now possessed with the impressive creature that was Apolline Delacour. No, the woman only reached out to her when she was spinning downwards, oppressed by the feeling of being apart from her loved one. It was as though she could feel Hermione's despair and came to her rescue with kind, motherly eyes and a shoulder for her to try on.
Apolline had always been so protective of her children, as all veelas are, that Hermione had expected her to enact revenge on her for hurting her daughter, but Apolline only offered her comfort. It took a long time for Hermione to understand that perhaps the reason Apolline did not hurt her was because she somehow considered her like a daughter. "It's in our nature" She had once said, "My child's...love, is also my child" And Hermione never questioned her motives again. It was possible she had been hasty in accusing the universe of leaving her no one to turn to.
"You are not alone, ma petite loutre" As if she could hear the brunette's thoughts, Apolline reassured her. She looked outside the window wittingly and smirked as if she possessed a knowledge of her own "And be a little more lively, I have a ...feeling this will be a very long day for you to be this depressing so early"
"Now, you will wash your face and shower off this awful stink." She took a step back and magicked an expensive feeling towel and richly scented bath supplies onto Hermione's arms. "We need to discuss better alcohol choices for you in the future, young lady. If you are going to foolish waste yourself away, at least do like my daughter and steal from a decent stash like mine"
She was out of the room before Hermione could react on being called out. Apolline did always have a curious humor to her.
Hermione wouldn't put it above the Delacour woman to have enchanted the bathing lotions because that shower felt infinitely better than her first mere hours before, or maybe it was that feeling of not being alone that soothed some of her pain.
it was time to get ready and face the music. She had skipped lunch and there was no more time left to postpone. When she got back to the room, Ginny sat by the window, ready for the ceremony.
The silence in the room is never broken as Ginny helps her with her hair and make-up. No one discussed that Ginny had 'borrowed' her mothers' Atacama-dry-eyes powder and cream they had often joked was the most expensive and useful item in the Burrow for Mrs. Weasley's flair for the dramatics and tear ducts were legendary.
They walk to the tent hand in hand. The gathering already in full motion as aurors guarded the tent for the arriving guests with Ron, Harry, looking chubby and redhead as cousin Barry, and the twins going around with Mrs. Weasley's and Apolline's detailed charting plans and some help from Gabrielle, although not many people from Fleur's family had shown up so far. Hermione found it odd as she had met at least three times more relatives for the blond veela's during her christmas stay, but she reasoned being in the same place as a number of well known Order members might be an unnecessary risk for many.
Hermione couldn't dwell for long on that thought as she walked fully inside the tent and, at the end of the long purple carpet covering the aisle, she saw Bill Weasley standing by the altar.
She froze on the spot and all the music, laughter, chatting and even Mrs. Weasley's shouting were turned on mute.
It was really happening.
She confessed he looked very handsome in his deep burgundy colored dress robes that matched his younger brother. His scars, which in some might look unattractive, only gave him character. At least she knew Fleur thought as much as she made a point of saying so before they brought Harry to the Burrow.
It was approaching 3 o'clock in the afternoon and it was really happening. The words kept repeating over her head so as to remind herself that this was not another of her nightmares.
As for Bill Weasley, he displayed serenity and composure as he chatted with his brother Charlie, who stood by his side as best man. He felt her stare immediately, like a laser pointing straight at him, but he chose not to return the look in fear of what they both might see in each others eyes.
"Come on, Mione. You got to get to your seat before mum shoots ya a forbidden curse for being in people's way and me for not being in my spot for the entry or whatever are the plans now" That was how Ginny left hermione standing in the middle of the tent and disappeared. Thankfully Ron and Harry had already seated their guests and Ron was waving maniacally for her to come and save him from his Great-Aunt Muriel.
His Great-aunt's tongue was on fire that afternoon, even Hermione had been at the end of her ramblings already that day with some mumblings of "Bad posture skinny ankles".The Weasley matriarch should have thought better than to have put her so far into the tent for she progressed through the aisle offending every single guests in reach. Most guests were quite familiar with the old woman's temper, but Fleur's cousins seemed far from amused. It was a godsend for Hermione as it kept them from their usual glaring at her. Apolline treated her with nothing but kindness, but that couldn't be said for the rest of the Delacour clan.
The twins shared hilarious stories on their late uncle Bilius eccentric behaviour and the group's laughter and lightheartedness helped distract Hermione from what was about to take place. It helped that the twins were also responsible for the much needed spike of the fruity punch their mother had prepared. Usually, she would have chastised the boys, but she didn't feel like being hypocritical on top of a killjoy.
She paid half consideration to cousin 'Barry's conversation with a enraged looking Victor Krum. He looked positively murderous as he stared daggers at Xenophilius and ranted to 'Barry' in the most erratic english.
Except for odd the newspaper and Ron's comments on the latest Quidditch news, she hadn't heard from Krum since her fourth year. Despite Krum's indomitable reputation, Hermione knew she had hurt his feelings by leading him on and essentially using him as a means to keep appearances. Before he left with the rest of Durmstrang, she sought him out and apologized for her actions, because even though he was the one who asked and pursued her, she should have refused. Still he seemed understanding, almost empathetic as they had said their goodbyes.
Before she knew, the guests had all seated and conversations were reduced to occasional whispers.
It was time. A collective sigh issued as all women turned to the entrance.
The music began and not even whispers were heard. Not by Hermione, for she was transfixed.
She could not recall seeing Ginny or little Gabi pass by her. All she'd remember were those dark blue eyes and the simple white dress made her look all the more like an angel, a comparison the blonde always struggled to comprehend with her limited understanding of the muggle culture, but it resonated with Hermione all the same. She looked radiant, her beauty eclipsing even Muriel's famous tiara.
All at once in her mind, she watched a younger and more carefree version of the blonde crossing the Hogwarts' Great Hall. Just like that day, Hermione watched her move without blinking. That familiar warm feeling clawing its way under her skin and drowning her in the blond's scent. It reeled her mind and evoked deep feelings that had her thankful for Molly Weasley's magical makeup.
Soon, the veela reached the small altar and Monsieur Delacour handed her to the glowing groom.
"Ladies and gentleman" The small tufty-haired wizard presiding over the wedding went on with his speech, over the loud sobs of two thirds of the women in the tent and Hagrid. "We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of two faithful souls…"
Hermione recalled that amongst the weeping she heard a snicker, but thought better than to look for whichever Delacour relative was responsible.
As Bill began his vows a reassuring hand came from her side and held her trembling ones. Harry sat by her side watching not the wedding, but her with a look of tardy understanding.
Hermione wasn't listening and apparently neither was Fleur. She had promised herself not to look back at the seats after marching down the aisle, but was betrayed by her own nature. Like always, her body knew exactly where the brunette witch was sitting and like the treacherous thing it was, it couldn't resist one last look. One last exchange.
They held each other's eyes all through the redhead's loving vows.
His words didn't matter anymore, because Hermione recognized the silent words conveyed through her loved one's eyes.
It may be the case that the Weasley family may never forgive her for what she knew she was about to do, but her body lifted itself without consequence.
For Hermione, it all happened in slow motion. She felt Harry's hand slowly falling from her lap and heard his stunned gasp. She saw Ginny's knowing look and Gabi's immediate smile.
However what remained on her mind as all the madness of people shouting, running and spells flying abound went on was that Fleur Delacour had looked relieved.
For the voice that had cut through the tent and stopped the wedding was not Hermione Granger's.
It was something large and silver that had come falling through the canopy over the altar. The graceful and gleaming lynx had landed right in front of the marrying couple. The Patronus's mouth opened wide and it spoke in the loud, deep, slow voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt.
"The ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming"