Fulcran was four years old when they first met. It was a warm spring day, the type of day that enticed most children to frolic and play. But no amount of chirping birds or flowers could entice him. Instead, he spent his time trembling from an internal chill, eyes focused on the sky without taking in any of the lovely shade of blue.
It was the day he was to meet his fiancée. And he was absolutely terrified. A fiancée meant a future wife. Which meant one day, they would be like mamma and father. He could not think of anything worse than the idea of being stuck with someone who hated him.
She arrived by broomstick, in the arms of her mother. Her petticoat fluttered prettily as she hopped off, her landing light and nimble.
He was immediately taken back. In his imaginings, he'd conjured a dark eyed dragon, spewing slurred insults at him hotter than flame - someone terrible and looming like his mother.
He had not expected…well. Her.
She was a flower personified. Her eyelids were heavy, like butterfly wings, hanging over eyes more vibrant than summer leaves. Instead of the malice and hate he had expected, her eyes showed nothing but the faint sparkle of curiosity as she regarded him. Her petal-like lips parted in a polite and sweet smile. "Bonjour."
Even her voice was pretty. He was pretty sure his jaw hung slack for a moment before he introduced himself. "I...um. Hello mademoiselle. You must be Vindra. I am Fulcran."
He managed not to stumble over himself as he reached out to kiss her hand, the way mamma had told him to. Her eyes warmed and her smile widened. "Enchanté, Fulcran."
This elicited giggles and titters from their mothers as the two women fawned over the two of them, already discussing their wedding. They crooned over the idea of the joining of the two houses, Lestrange and Rosier. The words "adorable", "lovebirds", "family", "pure blood" and "grandchildren" were mentioned far too many times for his liking.
Fulcran flushed and quickly stammered. "would you like a tour of the house?"
Oh no. His mother had told him to ask that after asking her about her trip and then complimenting her eyes. Wait. Was it even her eyes? What if it was her hair? What did she want him to say again?
He glanced over at his mother, fearful for the consequences. But she seemed far too preoccupied by lady Rosier to notice or care.
Luckily, Vindra saved him and gave an eager nod. "I would be very happy to."
He immediately seized the opportunity to escape and hurried the both of them away. The house tour itself did not last very long. He had shown her the grand total of the main parlour before abandoning it all together.
In his defense, he could not refuse the wizarding chess match Vindra challenged him to. That would've been rude. He was relieved to see the way her eyes lit up when she noticed his set. He almost wanted to scold himself for all his fretting. For the first girl he'd ever met outside of his sisters, she wasn't so bad. She liked normal things like wizarding chess and she laughed often. Just like his friends in London.
The only difference between her and his friends was that she spoke French, and much prettier. When he told her so, she'd laughed at him. He didn't mind. She didn't laugh the same demeaning way Corvia did.
He found himself enjoying his time with her. And her visit ended far too soon. As she was leaving, she initiated la bise. Which made him feel warm inside.
He did not get a chance to miss her company for too long however. After their first meeting, both his mother and lady Rosier plotted to have them together whenever possible. Whenever he was in Paris, there was always a social function to attend with the Rosiers. And she was always there.
A good amount of their tutoring was shared as well. They took many different lessons together, dancing being one of them. It resulted in the greatest shame a boy his age could have in his young life - a large portrait of the two of them, spinning and smiling for the world to see. It hung proudly over his mother's mantle, and he hated it every time he passed by it.
Still, their mothers' schemes to push the two together worked somewhat. They forged a sense of comradery over time, only as two children forced to marry one day could.
They also developed a bit of a friendly rivalry, something Fulcran found he enjoyed greatly. There was ceaseless competition in his life, but this was one he welcomed. In addition, they did grow close enough for the occasional, rare argument. Nothing serious of course. Only a small squabble here and there as they fought over who won. It was during that time he started calling her "Ma choufleur" just to annoy her. It was only in great irritation and exasperation did he ever call her that. But eventually it became a well used pet name whenever they fought - playfully or otherwise.
He'd never tell her it's one of his favourite vegetables.