The familiar sound of a pop goes off in the distance as you steady your breathing.
Your heart beats in rapid tandem.
The reality of what's just transpired settles in.
She really cheated on you.
Had no regard for how this would affect your relationship.
Had no regard for you.
If she had, she'd never would have had the affair to begin with.
She could have at least had the decency to break things off with you if she had.
You didn't deserve this.
No.
Not after all of the years of support.
Of comfort.
Of love.
You thought she really loved you.
Ths sobs wrack through you as you sit in your study.
You thought wrong.
Of all the people she could have thought to do this with.
She'd done it with the only other woman you'd felt inadequate next to.
Fleur Delacour.
The quarter veela Tri-Wizard Champion.
Her first love.
The woman she'd hoped to spend her life with before the war.
You were aware of the situation between them.
Hermione had confided in you as the years had passed.
As your relationship grew and was nurtured.
As much as she had felt hurt by Fleur she'd re-assured you that she was over it.
Had been over it.
Was supposed to be over it.
The first instance Fleur walked back into her life she decided to betray your trust.
Had thrown your relationship into the dirt like it had meant nothing.
Had it meant anything?
You want to believe that it had.
Every touch.
Every kiss.
You want to believe that it had meant something to her.
It'd meant something to you.
You loved her.
Wanted to start a family and grow old with her.
Did she want the same with you?
You had thought that she had.
Now, you weren't so sure.
How could you be?
Your future had been thrown into the realm of uncertainty.
Into the abyss of anonymity.
Could it come back?
Would it come back?
Did you want it back after the pain she'd put you through.
Your head tells you no.
This type of betrayal is unforgivable.
But your heart screams no!
Your heart yearns to be held by her still.
It years for her touch.
For her assurance that all would be as it once was.
That it was simply an impasse.
And that you'd get through it.
Bullocks.
You don't know what to think.
You let the sobs course through you.
Allow yourself to feel the pain.
To stay within your feelings and let them take their toll on you.
Only once they've subsided enough for you to get up and make your way to your bedroom do you go through the familiar motions of getting ready for bed.
You draw your bath, remove your make-up, brush your teeth and allow yourself to soak.
You feel the blistering heat of the water upon your skin but you feel numb.
You repeat familiar motions to wash yourself.
Only once you're satisfied do you make your way out of the tub and put on a pair of pajama pants and the emerald green jumper your mother got you last christmas.
It was Hermione's favorite sweater on you.
She'd whispered it into your hair as she'd held you close one night.
You shrug off the memory as if its very thought will burn you.
You make your way under your duvet and take a shuddering breath.
A quick spell and the lights are turned off.
You settle into the silence and allow yourself to fall into a fitful slumber.
This was a nightmare.
X -
Its been 2 days 8 hours and 23 minutes since she left.
You'd told her to leave and not return until she'd figured herself out.
It wouldn't have been right for her to stay.
But darn it do you wish she'd have fought back.
You wish she had at least have had the fight in her to fight for you.
To say anything but agree to your plea for her to leave.
Will she leave you?
Would she choose Fleur after all these years?
Had she already left you?
Had your relationship really meant nothing to her?
"You're doing it again Daph," Astoria's concerned tone startles you from your thoughts.
You look over to your sister that is sitting opposite you.
She'd come over to bring scones she'd baked the day previous and had found you in your state.
You were close so it hadn't taken a lot of prodding for her to get the truth of the matter out of you.
She'd had very choice words to say on the matter and had been half way out the door to give Hermione a "piece of my mind!" before you'd pleaded with her not to.
It would only cause more unnecessary pain and you didn't need to trouble your sister now that she had little Scorpius.
You'd tried to reassure her that you would be alright, but she had had none of it and had promptly floo'd home to let Draco know that she'd be spending a few nights at yours.
He'd understood, such a sweet man. A far contrast to the shite he'd been in your school days.
She'd helped you go about your day, had even asked if you needed help arranging things around now that circumstances had changed.
You'd broken into a fit of sobs at that.
Things had changed.
You were meant to be preparing for a wedding.
For the rest of your life.
For your happily ever after and now you would have to scrap it all.
All because of Fleur bloody Delacour.
Astoria held you as you sobbed your heart out.
How would this play out?
How could you tell your parents?
Your mother might near faint at the revelation.
Your father might dare challenge Hermione to a duel for besmirching your honor.
Regardless of how this all played out you'd end up hurt.
How else would it end?
With your heart on a platter for the vultures to feast on.
Society would revile you.
Pansy and the other ladies of noble birth would look down on you.
Cheated on before her wedding day.
Left for another.
A better partner?
No you couldn't think that way.
Fleur had left.
You had been there for Hermione for years.
Surely that had meant something to her?
You don't know what to believe anymore.
Astoria places her hand over yours and you look over in abject wonder.
Your little sister who'd come crying to your bed in the dead of night when you'd been but girls was doing what she could to comfort you.
You were grateful to have her.
You try to give her a small smile.
The uncertainty of it all plagues you.
And will continue to do so until Hermione makes her choice.
Would she choose you?
Or her?
Xx -
"With zis kiss I pledge my love,"
You startle awake sitting up as you come back to the realm of consciousness.
Had that really happened?
You look around you, you're in the spare bedroom at Harry's house.
You've been here for the past week trying to put your thoughts and your feelings in one place.
What had that dream meant?
Where you meant to choose Fleur?
Did it mean that you wanted Fleur more than you wanted Daphne?
Daphne.
The thought of your fiance sends so many feelings coursing through you.
You want nothing more than to soothe whatever pain she may be going through.
To assure her that everything will be ok, as she did for you all those years ago.
You hurt her.
You hurt her and you cannot take it back.
You have to live with the consequences of what you've done.
You had an affair with Fleur.
Fleur who left you all those years ago.
Fleur who hadn't even thought to send you a letter all those years ago.
Fleur who hadn't had a spare thought for you all those years ago.
Fleur who was your mate.
And who you couldn't help but find yourself attracted to.
Fleur who left you.
Not like Daphne who held you.
Who comforted you.
Who held you up when you couldn't stand.
Daphne.
Daphne.
Daphne!
You gather yourself and stand up from your bed.
The choice is clear.
It should have been from the beginning.
You won't let the mistakes of the past.
You shake your head.
Of the present.
Keep you from your future.
You make your way to the attached bathroom and get yourself ready for the day.
Today was the last day of your work with the French Delegation and you had decisions to make.
Xxx -
"I can't continue this, I should never have let it happen," you utter as you stand before Fleur.
The quarter veela looks at you with such a pained look.
The emotions etched on her face are oddly reminiscent of the ones you'd felt all those years ago when she'd left you.
Ironic, how it would all come to a head years later.
"I-I don't understand, I love you, I would do anyzing for you! To make you happy!" Fleur declares as she looks at you in pained horror as if the words you'd just spoken hadn't been uttered.
"It hadn't seemed to matter 10 years ago when you left me," you reply back. It was the truth, she had left you in the same state. At least you respected her enough to tell her you were ending things in person.
"I thought zat you 'ad forgiven me?"
"Forgive yes, but I don't forget, I've done both you and Daphne a disservice," you start to explain, she needed to understand where you were coming from in all of this.
You needed to be clear.
Above all else, it needed to be well and truly ended.
"And staying with ze Greengrass girl out of a sense of duty is enough for you?" Fleur counters.
You had expected her to put up a fight in all of this.
She was afterall Fleur Delacour, she never took anything lying down, she was a fighter.
You want to smile at the fond memories you have of a passionate Fleur, a Tri-Wizard champion Fleur.
You mentally check yourself, no!
You cannot allow yourself to fall into old emotions.
Fleur was your past.
She could not be your future.
That had always belonged to Daphne, if she'd still have you.
You take a strong breath and stand your ground, you meet Fleur's penetrating gaze head on.
"It's no sense of duty that keeps me to her Fleur, I love her," you declare.
Your gaze does not waver.
It cannot in this moment.
Fleur's gaze falters for a moment at your words, it desperate intensity is back in an instant however.
It searches within you for anything to betray the words you've just declared.
"And you do not love me?" She utters, voice trembling.
"I do, and I did, you were all I had at one point in my life," you start as you attempt to convey your emotions to her in this moment.
Above all else she needed to understand why you were saying these words.
Needed to understand the depth of your emotions.
"Daphne was there after you left, she stayed by my side and I grew to love again, the love I hold for her is unlike any I have ever felt for another person," you declare this with a steadfast resolve.
If Daphne would still have you, you intended to do all in your power, in your very being to make her the happiest witch in the UK.
"Ze love you hold for her is more zen ze one you hold for me?" Fleur pleadingly inquires.
You watch as the tears roll down her cheeks and you cannot lie to yourself that they cause an inner turmoil within you.
More than anything you hadn't meant to hurt her or Daphne.
But you were here to make a decision.
And you needed to remain stead-fast.
"Yes" you reply in turn.
You watch as she crumbles into herself as she takes a few steps into a nearby chair.
She grips the handles ever tightly as she looks down.
Her gaze leaves yours and you hear the gut wrenching sobs emit from her person.
"Will you be ok?" you ask, but you make no move to comfort her.
It wouldn't be right.
"Leave me" she mutters out, gaze still refusing to meet yours.
Its what you deserve.
Its what must be done.
You take one last look at Fleur.
Fleur, graduate of Beuxbatons.
Fleur, the heir to the Noble House of Delacour of France.
Fleur, Tri-Wizard Champion.
Fleur, your first love.
Fleur, your weakness.
Fleur, your nothing.
You apparate away and into the foyer of your home.
The home you share with Daphne.
And who you hope to one day start a family with.
Provided she still wants you after all the hurt you've inflicted upon her.
You take a shuddering breath to steady yourself before making your way through the home.
You hear voices in the direction of your sunroom and so you make your way through the home.
What greets you is the sight of two smiling sisters, Astoria and Daphne in the middle of a conversation.
No sooner do you enter the sunroom do they take notice of your appearance and their once prominent smiles are gone.
"Astoria," you start, you are unsure how to tread with Daphne's younger sister after all that has transpired.
No doubt Daphne would have filled her in.
They were very close.
Astoria looks at you with a look of anger.
Her features are scrunched in a way that tell you she is unhappy with you in a most foul way.
"You have the nerve- ,"
"Astoria," Daphne chides, reigning in her sister as she was undoubtedly about to bring upon you a tirade of complaints.
All of which you would have justly deserved.
"To what do we owe the pleasure, Hermione," Daphne says gaze turning to meet yours.
She looks slightly disheveled and a tad sleep deprived.
You can see it in her features that she had not expected to see you today.
Can feel the anxiety rolling off of her in droves as she waits for your response.
Did she think you were here to leave her?
To tell her that you'd chosen Fleur?
Your dream had shown you that reality.
You would not be making that into a reality, not today, or any other day from here on out.
"I was hoping to speak to you regarding our engagement," you start.
You can see Astoria from the corner of your eye ready herself.
"To what regard?" Daphne responds in turn, voice steady but with an underline of fear.
You take a breath and prostate yourself before her, you take a knee before her and take her hands in yours.
"If you'll still have me, I've been an utter and complete fool," you try to steady yourself as the tears roll down your cheeks.
"I betrayed your trust, and made you think that I did not love you in the way you deserve to be," you grip her hands firmly.
She does not grip yours in turn and your heart starts to plummet.
It'll hurt you deeply if she leaves you.
But it will have been deserved.
"I never should have betrayed you or made you feel less than, you are the only one for me, I love you and couldn't bare it if I was parted from you, I have struggled, but I will not continue to do so. My feelings will not be repressed, you are and will forever be the one I fervently and ardently love," you look at her, soul laid bare.
She does not respond.
And you think to take your hands away from her's, before she grips your hands in turn.
Hope blooms within you.
"You hurt me deeply," she utters, a lone tear cascades down her cheek.
You want to reach up and brush it away but you will yourself to hold back.
"I know," you respond "but I intend to spend every waking minute of my life making it up to you,"
Her grip becomes stronger.
"Can you be sure of that?" she implores looking into you.
You meet her imploring gaze with your fervent resolve.
"I told Fleur I could never love her, she was my past and you are my future, there's only ever been room for you Daph," you implore.
A look of shock comes over Daphne's features
"You told her you," she starts to utter, disbelief etched into her words.
"I did, and I'd do it again to assure you of my love, you are everything Daph, if you'll still have me I'd love to marry you and show you how much I love you till the end of my days," her grip tightens in earnest in your own and she surges forward to engulf you in her arms.
You wrap your own around her and pull her up into you.
You hold her too you and she holds you to her.
You almost left the best thing that could have happened to you.
"I'm still upset with you," she mutters into you, in that special way that she often does when she's trying to convey her feelings to you.
In the way that only you know.
"I know" you mutter back as you hold her to you.
Your bodies mold into each other as you hold each other.
As if made for the other.
"You're helping me with the rest of this wedding" she finally mutters after a few seconds.
Seconds that feel like an eternity.
You wish this moment would never end.
You'd come so close to losing this precious wonderful woman.
You pull back to peer down into her deep pools of cerulean, "Course"
No sooner has the word slipped past your lips, than Daphne surges to meet your lips with her own.
She pulls you ever closer as she conveys the depth of her longing.
Of the emotions coursing through her.
You meet her kiss with yours.
You attempt to convey the same.
The love that you hold for her.
The feeling of peace and completeness you feel with her in your arms.
She's yours and you're her's.
As it was meant to be.
As it'll always be.
Xxxx –
The minutes.
The hours.
The days.
The weeks.
They go by in a flash as you wrap up your work in the UK.
As you make your way back home.
You had thought to win her back.
Had deluded yourself into believing even for the briefest of moments that she'd chose you.
After every kiss.
Every caress.
Every emotion you'd tried to convey.
Emotion you'd thought you'd seen in her eyes when you'd been together in the throes of passion.
You'd allowed yourself to feel hope.
All the sins of the past corroding away as you allowed yourselves to feel the pure passion of emotions coursing through.
Had thought that it would end with the two of you choosing to be with the other.
Had thought that she'd realize it.
She had not.
Reality was cruel.
She'd chosen the Greengrass girl.
Had chosen a lesser woman.
Or so you'd like to think.
She'd chosen you for someone who had stayed.
Who hadn't run.
You hadn't left her.
Who'd been there for her when she'd really needed it.
But still you had thought.
That for a second you could.
You could take up the all-encompassing love she held.
And even now as you sat over the Cliffside overlooking the ocean in Étretat, newspaper in hand.
The headlines burn marks into your hands as you read the words over and over.
Golden girl marries Greengrass Heir.
A fated romance
You want to rip the writer to shreds.
Fated Romance.
Fated.
What did they truly know of fate.
What could they ever hope to?
You scoff at the words.
Hermione could no more be fated to have married Daphne than you could be fated to marry a seagull on the beach.
It was not fate that brought them together.
It was your idiocy.
Your misstep.
Your lack of thought in a trying time.
That was what had brought them together.
For the first time in a long time, you feel lost.
What will you do now?
You must marry in time.
Provide an heir to your family name.
How will you?
Perhaps Gabrielle could in time provide you with an heir with whoever she marries.
Not you.
You could never bring yourself to do it.
You would never be able to love another the way you love her.
Hermione.
Your fated.
Your lost love.
You couldn't do that to another.
Have them know that you'd never love them.
They'd simply be a partner of convenience.
You couldn't do that to another.
Was Hermione doing the same with Miss Greengrass?
You both hope and dread the thought.
Hope for the veela side of you that hopes for another opportunity to be reunited with your fated.
Dread for the reasonable side of you that feels guilt that Hermione could be unconsciously hurting another in this way.
No.
Hermione had made her choice.
She had not chosen you in the end.
And for good reason.
She really felt strongly enough for Daphne Greengrass to choose her over you.
You had to admit that much.
What would you do with your life now?
Continue in your job at the ministry?
Make a proper career of it?
Perhaps vye for the position as Minister of France?
You chuckle to yourself.
A funny thought.
Funny indeed?
- - - - - x - - - - - - -
Youngest Minister for Magic of France in a century.
The ever illustrious unofficial title most gave you as you had made headlines in your bid.
At the age of 45 you were the youngest Minister for Magic France had had in quiet well over a Century.
You had made quite a name for yourself as the years had passed.
Had ensured the successful integration of the English equality act across the channel to France.
Had integrated proper reform and had worked to bring proper protections for those of creature blood in your country.
You had well and properly dedicated yourself to your career and the citizens of your country.
Much to the surprise of your family you had chosen not to marry.
Gabrielle would take after you or a child of her's through her marriage to her husband, Mael Dampierre.
Your parents had been scandalized at first.
"You do not wish for a child of your own blood?" your father had asked.
Your mother had been pained at the idea that you would never have a child of your own, but had understood all the same.
She was veela as much as you were.
And could understand your choice.
You could not be with your fated.
And so would in turn never marry.
Could not bring yourself to love another.
Your veela would never allow you to.
And so with quiet resolve she had understood you.
In time she had placated your father.
It had been a tough choice to make.
But a choice you'd make again in a heartbeat.
You had resolved to live with yourself and the mistakes of your past.
Your Hermione had recently been made Minister of her own country and so you'd be forced to work together once more.
For the good of your respective countries.
You chuckle at the irony.
The feel of the cold breeze hits you, and you allow your hair to whip about as you make your way to the floo terminal.
Today was a momentous day in Wizarding history.
Today the Tri-Wizard Tournament would begin.
A truly asinine tournament really you scoff, but your predecessor had negotiated it into existence.
A way for the wizarding world to heal in a way.
The last one had ended to tragically you think to yourself as the dead eyes of Cedric Diggory remain etched in the far recesses of your mind.
You shudder to yourself as you allow the floo to whisk you away.
You appear a moment later in the Headmistress' Headquarters.
Your school mate of old Suzette Evreux greets you as you appear.
She'd been made the Headmistress of Beauxbatons much to you and your mutual friend Claude's surprise.
A wild spirit this one, had surprised those within your circle of Nobility with her settling down as the Headmistress of your old Alma Mater.
"You're late" she remarks, eye brow raised, hand on her hip.
"I'm an hour early," you retort as she takes a few steps towards you greets you with a kiss to each cheek.
"Claude arrived an hour ago," She retorts.
You snort at that.
"Naturally, his son is of competing age," you remark as your friend agrees with you in turn.
"That and he's the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," she remarks as she motions for you to take a seat.
You do so in turn, a tad surprised at the motion but nevertheless you acquiesce.
She sits on the other side of the elegantly elven carved desk and takes a breath before her eyes meet yours.
Something has unsettled your friend.
And you feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand.
"I feel it incumbent upon me to inform you of a development before we go out to greet the students," Suzette starts before the sudden opening of door to her office opens with an abrupt boom.
"Has she arrived? Its almost time for the-," the presence of your friend and colleague Claude greets the both of you as he enters the spacious office.
"It is not and before you so rudely interrupted me I was going to inform Fleur about the Minister of Britain-
"She was not previously informed?" Claude interrupts as he looks between the two of you.
Suzette breathes a heavy sigh.
"If you'll allow me to," she says with a huff.
Claude recoils in shame at recognition of his interruption.
Your interest is very much piqued what could have these two in such a fuss.
Was there something you'd needed to be informed about prior to arriving?
You were sure your assistant had thoroughly briefed you on the necessary litigation and schools participating.
Hogwarts and Durmstrang.
Much like it had been in the previous tournament.
Ilvermorny, Castelobruxo and Mahoutokoro had declined.
'They didn't have idiotic former ministers' you think to yourself as you tune into your two friends staring at you in concern.
Before either of them can say anything further to qualm your growing curiosity a knock is heard.
A moment later a minor Ministry official steps forward informing you that your presence is requested in the Grand Ball Room.
You make a mental note to corner either Suzette or Claude later.
Both adopt a serious demeanor as they fall into step beside you.
'Like old times' you think to yourself as you make your way to the Grand Ball Room where all three schools have been assembled.
Today the selection of the champions would occur.
You can't help but feel nostalgic to the tournament all those years ago.
A bushy haired girl staring at you in abject wonder before stubbornly turning away from your own curious gaze.
Your heartstrings grip you tightly as your expression betrays nothing.
But your emotions war internally.
Shy glances.
A courtship.
Stolen kisses.
They all come to a forefront as you make your way into the Grand Ball Room.
You make your introductions and warnings.
The Tournament was no minor thing to take lightly.
It was as dangerous as it had always been since its conception.
You make sure to make an extra emphasis on the dangers the tournament holds for those chosen as Champion.
The students present do not waiver.
As it had been agreed upon in the tournament prior, only seventh years would be allowed to participate.
You look on as the Goblet flickers.
Its embers holding a multitude of pieces of parchment.
A multitude of would be champions.
The flickering roars and Suzette reaches out to snatch it.
Language translation spell in place.
"The Champion from Durmstrang is Daenerys Targaryen," a roar goes up from the Durmstrang delegation and a petite girl with silver hair stands forth.
She makes her way forward with all the bravado of a young woman coming into her own.
Not what you would have expected from the gruff dreary Durmstrang.
In comparison to Viktor she's a surprising choice in champion.
The Goblet must sense un underlying ferocity in the girl.
Your interest is piqued.
The tournament so far is shaping up in quite an interesting manner.
The Goblet roars once more and another slip of paper shoots forth.
Suzette reaches out once more and snatches the paper mid-air.
A big smile breaks out on her face as she announces "The Champion from Beauxbatons is Sansa Stark"
Ah, a Stark a recluse noble family from the Pyrenees mountains.
Suzette had taken a liking to this girl the last you'd spoke.
'She's a natural fire spell caster' Suzette had exclaimed much to your amusement.
Of course she'd be thrilled that her favorite pupil had been chosen.
The girl while not the outright pyro your erstwhile friend was in truth, was a natural when it came to fire type spells.
Had quite a natural talent for it.
You don't dwell on the girls talents further as the girl in question steps forward and stands beside the Durmstrang Champion.
She stands tall for her age, hair a flaming red in an elegant braid.
The Goblet roars a final time as a final slip of paper shoots forward.
Suzette reaches out for a final time and snatches the final slip of paper.
She pauses for a brief second before exclaiming "The Champion from Hogwarts is Margaery Granger,"
As the words ring aloud your blood runs cold.
Your eyes look with concentrated interest at the Hogwarts Delegation.
A girl with honey curls steps forward, confident smirk present on her features.
She sports a green crest with a snake etched on it on the left side of her shirt lapel.
Her daughter
The words ring in your head as the girl steps forward and shoots a side wink towards Sansa Stark.
She stands proudly for her school.
Is that what your child with Hermione could have looked like had you not left all of those years ago?
You want to ask questions.
But you don't.
You still yourself, face never betraying your true emotions.
You close the Champion selection with words of encouragement for the champions chosen.
Each girl before you looks at you in awe.
You are the only champion from the previous tournament present.
Margaery's eyes linger on you a second longer as the girls are ushered away.
The rest of the evening goes by in a whirl as you and the other Ministry Officials explain the rules and magical contract entered.
The dangers and the tasks to come.
No sooner are the champions dismissed than you find yourself reclining on a chair in Suzette's office.
Both and Suzette and Claude stand before you.
Both not wanting to break your silence.
"She let her child participate in this tournament?" are the first words out of your lips as you stare at your friends in abject shock.
"It would seem so," Claude responds.
"I made a point to owl your assistant about this," Suzette huffs as she looks to one side.
Yes.
You would have preferred a warning.
Her child.
Her daughter.
The result of her marriage to the Greengrass girl.
You want to scream.
You want to rage.
You want to have someone explain it to you why.
You feel betrayed.
But most of all you feel resigned.
This is no one's fault but yours.
You did this.
You had no right to expect she wouldn't have children with her wife.
Children with someone other than yourself.
As it should have been.
No.
You can't dwell on such thoughts.
It won't do you any good to dwell on old transgressions.
You thank both of your friends for keeping you company while you have your little moment.
They look at you with uncertainty.
Both promising to check in on you the next day.
You thank each in turn, but try to assure them it is not necessary.
With a kiss to each cheek from the two you make your way to the floo and appear a moment later in your personal fire place.
Your home is quiet.
A comforting silence greets you.
You cannot allow yourself to fall into despair.
Things are as they are.
No amount of crying will change it.
If anything you must continue to move forward.
And try to ensure a safe tournament without any casualties.
You owed her that much.
To ensure her child made it out of this tournament with only a few hairs out of place.
If anything this would be an opportunity for you to find closure in your own way.
To observe your beloved's child as she traversed the treacherous tasks before her.
You could see what could have been.
And that.
That would be enough.